#not as vibrant with naked eye but still visible after a little bit out in the dark

[vivalasthedas]

[multifandomthoughts]

Sadness. Despair. Sorrow. Whatever you’d like to call it. That’s all that was left in your heart after your girlfriend Foo Fighters died. The world had been reset, and you were one of the only ones still present from the previous one. You and a child named Emporio.

Every day you spent without her, more agonizing than the rest. Everywhere you go, you’re reminded of her. Whether it be the giant slurpee cups from the seven eleven, or watching baseball on tv. You know you’ll get over her, you have to.

Eventually, days begin to get easier. Little steps in the right direction, doing more things around the house, and getting outside helped a lot. You won’t ever forget her, that’s for sure, but the pain of her death lessens, even just a tiny bit.

October rolls around, and it’s been an extra long and grueling day. Plopping down on the couch, you flick on the TV. Scrolling mindlessly, you stop on the classic movie channel. The original 1931 Frankenstein. Leaning back, you casually consume the film, not paying much mind to it. Until the titular reanimation sequence.

You don’t know what it is, but your eyes are glued to the screen. From death, comes life. Does this mean that it’s theoretically possible to bring back your girlfriend? Dropping everything, you run to your room to research. Even if it has only 1% chance, you’d do anything to bring back your beloved.

A thought pops into your head, however. What if she isn’t the same person you once knew? What if she’s the exact opposite, or doesn’t remember who you are? Shaking your head you try to push those thoughts to side, and continue to study. The optimism of success pushes you forward.

Onto the next steps, you visit the seaside closest to you. Wading into the ocean with your bucket, you scoop up a bunch of water, smiling widely. There, floating inside your bucket, was a multitude of plankton, visible to the naked eye. If you’re lucky, there’s probably even more plankton, that can’t be seen!

Returning home, you keep the plankton well fed, and in a tank until the next thunderstorm rolls around. Each day without a storm makes you more and more antsy, and you’re wondering if you should take the easy way out and use some form of electricity in the house.

Shaking your head, you decide to wait a bit longer. In your opinion, it would lessen the impact of your reunion, making it less heartfelt. In preparation for your experiment, you set up a makeshift pulley on the tallest tree you could find. This wasn’t Hollywood, not everyone is going to have a gothic lab in their basement.

Finally, the day comes. You can tell that there’s going to be a large storm by the air, it’s thick and heavy. Black clouds cover what once was a vibrant blue sky, for some people this would bring melancholy….but on this day, it brought hope.

Scurrying off to your workspace, you begin to dump the plankton in a large gallon bag. It’s not the most practical or logical way to store the creatures, but you figure that it’s the most convenient, as well as easiest to get out of.

Hoisting it in your arms, you scurry off to the makeshift pulley. Placing the bag of plankton on the makeshift wood ‘table’, you raise the mechanism towards the sky. Sitting below the tree, you hope with all your might that this experiment is a success.

Every time the lightning hits, you look up to discern if the bag is jiggling. Jiggling indicates that the lightning made direct contact, not just hitting the wood. After a few successful hits, you lower the pulley to see what had happened.

Nothing. No movement. Your experiment had been unsuccessful, as tears begin to flood your eyes. It was heartbreak all over again, but this time it was much more agonizing. Your sobs only get louder and louder, unaware of the sudden movement in the bag. Throat raw, eyes red, you only discover the sight in front of you once saltwater splashes directly on you.

Looking down, the colony of plankton had formed into the non-humanoid shape you knew and loved. As it squirms and attempts to get out, you stare at it, dumbfounded. Tearing the bag open, the creature slides out of it like grease on a wheel. They stare up at you, tilting their head as if they remember you.

“What happened to me?” They ask, and before they can receive an answer, you hug them with enough might to crush them. After getting that out of your system, you begin to explain to them how the world had been reset and that you were the only one to survive it.

Foo Fighters looks at you with what seems to be sorrow, and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “Well, I’m glad that I’m back…to feel human again, to spend time with you.” Smiling widely, you can feel tears stinging your face. But this time, they’re happy tears. Something with a less than one percent chance of success, actually happened. As you cry, you can feel a slimy sensation coat your face.

Glancing over, you see Foo Fighters gently kissing your cheek and reaching their arms around you for a soft hug. Wiping your eyes, you look back into their eyes. Taking a deep breath, you suggest:

“I can’t wait to make a bunch of new memories with you. I love you so much, and I missed you so much…How about we find you a body, hm?” With that, you carry your reanimated girlfriend towards your home, to plan for the next steps, whatever they may be.

[ecoamerica]

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[mandoalorian]

Hot Springs [Din Djarin x Reader] SMUT

SPOILERS FOR THE MANDALORIAN SEASON 2, EPISODE 2. [CHAPTER 10].

Summary: when The Mandalorian crashes his ship into a barely habitable and unfamiliar ice cold planet, he has to spend time on repairs. Little does he know, his bounty (you), has sauntered off into the depths of the crystallic cave, finding a hot spring to lounge in. When he discovers you pleasuring yourself amongst the thermal blue waters, he just can’t keep his hands of you. 

Warnings: SMUT (duh...) m receiving oral, p in v, lots of touching and affection.

Word count: 3k

Rating: 18+ only

Authors Note: The devil works hard but I work harder. Chapter 10 was literally released three hours ago and I’ve already knocked this up. The scene with the hot springs gave me ~thoughts~ and well, I hope you enjoy!

MASTERLISIT | Submit a request!

The Mandalorian was just about finished the repairs on his ship when the cooing of his child interrupted him. He put down the soldering iron, and turned to face the little green bean who was knee deep in fluffy white snow. After a few beats of silence, the child let out an incoherent garble and Din sighed. "Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to make yourself useful?" he quizzed, gesturing towards the Razor Crest. The child blinked momentarily and Din let out another huff of annoyance before returning back to solder together some pieces of wire

The child's next garble came only a few moments later and when Din turned around, he noticed that his son was gone. Din dropped the iron once more and raised to his feet, walking around the perimeter of the Crest until he saw the child again. The child turned to his father, babbling and pointing his finger. When Din followed the directions of the child's small claw, he realised that his son had been trying to alert him of something. Din flicked the tracking switch on his visor which highlighted the footprints through the snow.

"She's gone?" he questioned himself out loud. "Wait here." he told the Child, who slumped down in the snow and began to roll snowballs with his small hands.

Din followed your footprints through the depths of the ice cold caves until finally he found you. There you were, lounging naked in what could only be described as a pool of steaming tranquil water. It was a vibrant blue colour, comparable to the beautiful lakes of Naboo or rivers of Alderaan.

"I told you to wait by the ship." The Mandalorian's voice was low and dark through his modulator. There was something sultry about it. If you weren't engulfed in warm water, you might have sworn his voice alone could do things to you that no other man has ever. 

You took in his broad stature. Tall, wide shoulders, and covered in the most pristine Beskar armour. And he was just standing there, watching you.

"Just about all ice planets have hot springs," you informed the Mandalorian, dodging his statement only slightly. "They're almost always in crystalline caves, just like this one. They're heated by underground volcanic activity. I know what you're thinking— volcanoes on an ice planet? But trust me. Legends says they have healing powers and well, I believe them. The natural oils that these thermal waters possess make my skin so smooth." you drew out, kicking your leg out the water and rubbing your hand along your calf and up your thigh, humming in delight at the touch.

"Stars." Din gritted out as he watched you touch yourself. You noticed upon his entrance to the springs, he had completely stiffened up, not moving an inch. His eyes were locked on you. But you didn't mind. In fact, you kind of liked the attention from a Mandalorian. "So you knew about the hot springs here?"

"I knew there'd be hot springs, sure," you shrugged, continuing to drag the warm thick blue water over your skin. The oils in it made it slippery but all the more appealing to the Mandalorian. He shuffled in his boots slightly, dragging them across the thick snow beneath him. "I got bored waiting on the ship. Not much to do for entertainment."

The Mandalorian scoffed, but he couldn't exactly argue with you. "You could've put yourself in danger." he muttered, looking around. Your eyes followed his.

"Do you see anything?" you prompted him. "No? Exactly. It's safe here, I promise." After a long beat of silence, you took a deep breath and inhaled the fragranced air around you. "Join me." you murmured.

The Mandalorian was taken aback, but your offer became harder to refuse by the second. Maker, his cock was throbbing now, constricted and feeling tight under his pants and armour. He tilted his head slightly and watched as you let your hands grace your body and squeeze your own breasts. You knew exactly how to lure him in. You gently closed your eyes at the sensation, a sweet moan escaping your lips.

Of course, the opaqueness of the turquoise water left very little visible to the Mandalorian's eye but judging from the way you were positioned and the slight slushing sound of the water, he knew you were touching himself. 

The Mandalorian wanted to hear that moan again. If that sound was the noise you made when you touched yourself, then he wanted to hear the noises you could make when he touched you.

You were utterly a sight to behold. He wanted to engrain the image of you, lounging in the hot springs, for the rest of his life. 

The thought of you pleasuring yourself in front of him created a fire in his stomach. He felt his already hard cock twitching at the sight of you. Your hair wasn't completely wet, but damp from the condensation in the air, sticking slightly to your skin. Pearls of sweat beaded across your hairline and as he trailed his vision down, he noticed the way it glossed over your collarbones— defining them.

"If I join you," the Mandalorian gulped. "I might not be able to control myself." he warned, a strong level of sterness in his voice.

You bit your lip and extended your arms, propping yourself up in the tub so he could see the way you spread yourself out for him. "Consider this an invitation." you gazed up towards him, fluttering your eyelashes which framed your doe-like eyes.

The Mandalorian discarded his armour one by one, the Beskar of his chest plate and knee pads clanking as he dropped them to the rocky ground beneath him. As he undressed himself, he didn't take his eyes from you, and so, you decided to give him a little show to watch.

You hopped up on to the side of the tub, exposing your naked body. You even heard Din's breathing hitch when he took sight of you. You crossed your legs over, not wanting to show him too much yet, but dropped your head back and your breasts together. The sudden coldness in the air hardened your nipples and made them sensitive as you ran the pad of your thumb over the little bud, pinching it now and again. You dipped your hands back in the water and gently let the warm, oily water drip down your body. Din watched, completely enthralled as droplets dripped down the curve of your breasts and pooled in your belly button. He wanted to spread you out— take you now. Fuck you fast and hard in the snow if he could.

But there was something so delicate about the way you performed for him. The way you gently touched yourself and your whimpers which echoed throughout the crystallised caves. It struck something inside of him. He wanted to take it slow, touch every part of you like it had never been touched before. Grace his finger along every edge and dip of your body.

It wasn't long until the Mandalorian had stripped completely down, his clothing pooled on the floor amongst yourd. You let out a small gasp as you took in his manhood which was hard and pressed against his tummy. Dark brown hair trailed from his belly button down to his crotch and you swallowed a lump in your throat that you didn't realise you were holding. You knew he couldn't take his helmet off, but seeing the colour of his hair on another part of his body awakened a primal feeling inside of you.

He stood there, awkwardly, almost like he was awaiting your instruction. His hand dropped to his cock and he began to rub his length slowly, up and down. It was in that moment you got an eyeful of the precum that was beading at the dark pink tip. Oh Maker…. he was desperate for you.

"Come here." you gestured with a finger that beckoned him to walk around the steaming hot tub. Still jerking himself, he walked to the edge of the tub where you were sitting and you continued to swirl your feet into the water.

When he stood before you, you took his hand and gently removed it from his cock. The loss of Din's grip made his cock bounce forward. You looked down at it, taking in the sight of all the bumps and veins and licked your lips at the thought of how he would feel inside of you. He was big, you knew he'd stretch you out, but you had hope in the oils from the springs that maybe they'd lubricate you before that time came. "I want to taste you, is that alright?" you asked, dipping your hand into the warm water and taking it back out before rubbing his length.

"Y-yes," he stuttered, jerking his hips deeper into your first. You tutted and slowly shook your head at his lack of patience. The oils from the thermal water had made your hands slick and wet.

You rolled your hand to the bottom of his girth and cupped his balls before skillfully swirling your tongue over his pink tip, earning a groan from him. Your lips curved into a smirk as you continued with the kitten licks, savouring every drop of precum that he had created. You wanted to be vocal for him, making sure you moaned when his salty seed hit your tongue. Licking your lips, making sure you could devour every last drop. "Tastes so good," you cooed before taking his full length in your mouth and bopping your head.

On impulse, Din grabbed a fist full of your hair, holding your head in place as you took him as far as you could. With his remaining length, you lifted your hand and began to pump him. You slowly drew back from his cock, a line of your saliva mixer with his precum drawn from the tip of his cock to your swollen lips.

"What are you doing?" Din growled, pushing your head back on his cock. 

"Cmon, I know you want to fuck my mouth. I see the way you jerk your hips. And I want it too. Fuck my mouth, Mando," you commanded, reaching up and pressing a hand along his v-line.

You parted your lips only slightly, but enough for the Mandalorian to push his length inside of you. You immediately found yourself hollowing your cheeks as he began to fuck your mouth, illicitng curses in what you could only assume to be Mando’a. You grabbed onto his hips, fingernails pinching into his ass as he thrusted inside of you. "S-such a good mouth for me," he praised. "Good girl. Take me so well." It wasn't long before you felt his cock twitch in your mouth and you drew back, not wanting him to cum just yet.

"Join me in the water," you pleaded, hopping back into the tub and letting the wetness engulf you. The Mandalorian sat on the edge of the tub and carefully slipped in, the water rising to his chest. He shuddered at the heat and you couldn't help but smile. "You like it?" you asked him, and he nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah, haven't felt anything this nice since- since-" The Mandalorian couldn't finish his sentence because you were already dragging him through the water and on top of you.

Once again, you leaned against the side of the tub and brought the Mandalorian warrior in between your legs. You hooked your legs around his waist and the water pushed his cock against your wet folds, a soft moan escaping your lips. Liking what he could hear, the Mandalorian teasingly rolled his cock over your clit, and your fingers dug into his back.

You didn't think it was possible, but somehow you managed to get closer to him. You pressed your breasts up against his chest and rested your chin the crook of his neck. He pushed the hair out of your face, revelling in your beauty.

In one swift motion, he pushed himself inside of you, desperate for some kind of release. You screamed, fingers digging into his tan skin. His back was strong and muscular and he held himself there, inside of you, warming his cock. You traced his back, enthralled in the way he was using his upper body strength to hold you up against the side of the tub.

"Move." you begged, pressing your lips into his shoulder blade. The Mandalorian groaned at your soft kisses. He hadn't felt such affection from anyone before. His hips moved slightly but his cock still filled inside of you, throbbing as your walls contracted around him. You bit down on his skin at the sensation. You loved how long and thick he was. You loved the way he filled you up. "Move." you repeated, but this time it was a cry of desperation.

The Mandalorian obeyed your order, slowly and somehow pushing himself deeper inside you. His cock curved and hit your sweet spot with every thrust. Fuck, he was good. You whined, rolling your hips and meeting his every thrust. 

"Stars, you're so tight," he cursed and you clenched around him once more. He was certain you'd milk him from his seed shortly.

"Mando, you don't have to be gentle. I need you to fuck me hard and fuck me fast." You whispered, your breath tingling his skin. He wasn't going to say no to that.

The Mandalorian increased his speed, and his thrusts became more erratic. As the oils of the thermal waters seeped into your cunt his actions became sloppier and he had to clutch onto you like he was afraid you'd break beneath him. The waters of the hot springs rolled over the edges of the tub and splashing noises, as well as your moans and his grunts echoed throughout the caves.

"I'm close," he warned. "Fuck. Your cunt is so soft. Ngh- feels so good around me."

"Mando," you wailed, your hands wrapped around his helmet for support as he continued to messily thrust into you. He lowered one hand under the water and found the bud of your clit, rubbing at it as he continued to fuck you. "Shit, don't stop that. I'm gonna cum."

"Yes baby," The Mandalorian growled. "Cum for me like a good girl."

The words spurred you off and you dropped your head back, your entire body shaking as he fucked you through your climax. Your walls clenched around his cock and he started twitching inside you. "Fuck!" he cried out, holding you by the shoulders.

"I'm safe," you gasped, as he continued to thrust deeper into you. "Please cum inside of me. Please."

"You take my cock so fucking good." He praised, his modulated voice echoing through the cave as his hips snapped into yours. His hands drop as he holds your lower back and the pressure feels sharp. He's rough, he's hard just like you had requested of him. You could feel every edge and vein of him as he slammed inside of you, groaning out your name with each savage thrust.

Before long, Din spills inside of you. And he was containing a load. You feel his sticky heat rope your and coat your walls as you yelp in pleasure. He stays inside of you, letting the cum bury deep within you before he softens and gently pulls out. You whine at the loss of his fullness, your eyes fluttering shut as he doubles back.

Both of you are a heaving panting mess, standing before each other in the hot springs. Your legs felt shaky, like he just fucked every last beam of life out of you. You grabbed onto the edge of the tub and pulled yourself up, letting the cool air dry your body.

The Mandalorian took another good look of your body and he felt himself get hard again. Fuck, no credits could amount to that experience. There was no way he could return you now. You were his to keep.

Permanent taglist:

@goth-topic​  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria

[just-a-dumb-gay]

Hear me out.

Lady D with a competitive S/O who's just a little bit smaller than Alcina, maybe she's around 9 foot 1 or something. But, she has giant ass wings... So everytime someone brings up their height, she just puffs up her wings to intimidate said person... DANIELLA

Also maybe to impress Alcina at the same time.

Wings and wing aus are one of my favorite fucking things!!! So y'all are getting 3 things. This ask, Alcina with wings and if both Alcina and her s/o (who is also hella tall) had wings! I can't explain how excited all this makes me, thank you!!

For the sake of details lets just say their wings are magic and can appear or disappear without damaging any clothing but they have marks on their back where the wings appear from. Or they've either become perfect at altering clothes so they can wear whatever the hell they want without wings being an issue. But I'm going with magic wings because it seems a little more fun to be able to hide them!

S/o / Reader With Wings

S/o has wings that look black to the naked eye but in the right light are a deep shiny color. (Whatever matches their eyes. Brown eyed people with lighter eyes tend have slightly golden wings, and with darker eyes it can be closer to a brownish red mix)

When they first came to the castle they kept their wings hidden, they didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention

Alcina was the first person to see the marks where the wings appear when she accidentally walked in on them getting changed. But she assumed the marks were old scars and didn't say anything to avoid possibly bringing back bad memories.

Eventually once they get together she sees the marks alot more once s/o is comfortable getting changed around her. But she still doesn't ask.

One day a few months into their relationship Daniela was in a bad mood and was taking it out on everyone. Mainly s/o, being the newest person around they tend to get the most mocking.

S/o loses their cool and yells back at Daniela during dinner but at the same time accidentally pops out their huge wings.

Daniela, across the table, immediately shuts up as she's not quite sure what to make of the situation.

Alcina doesn't say a word, she just quietly sips her drink seemingly unfazed. But if you look close enough she's definitely impressed.

From then on any time Daniela is being a bitch s/o spreads their wings and reminds her they're pretty equal power wise and Daniela walks away mumbling curses and threats she'd never get away with following through on.

Alcina adores her s/o's wings, along with how powerful and intimidating they looks especially with them fully spread.

Alcina always wants her darling s/o to stay out the fight on the rare occasions vampire hunters stop by. And usually they watch from the balcony, wings spread and usually its enough to scare the vampire hunters away once they notice a dark winged figure watching from the shadows.

But one day a vampire hunter gets a good hit at Alcina with an axe and without a second thought for their own safety, s/o swoops in. They knock over a hunter with each wing and the one who hurt their girlfriend gets a boot straight to the face.

Daniela NEVER messes with them again after that!

Alcina With Wings

She's got huge majestic black wings and the tip of each feather is a blood like crimson colour that changes ever so slightly depending on how much blood she's had. (So darker after not feeding for a few days but more vibrant after feeding)

Each wing is almost as long as she is tall so she tends to keep them hidden because they don't fit within most halls of the castle (but there's plenty space in her room of course)

At first she keeps any knowledge of them hidden from a newbie at the castle because she's grown fond of them quickly and doesn't want to scare them.

Even when the newbie eventually becomes her s/o she still keeps them hidden. She always changes either in her bathroom or with her back away from her s/o so the marks aren't visible.

But one night s/o is the big spoon for a change because Alcina is tired after a long fight with vampire hunters. S/o notices the slightly darker shapes on her back through her thin nightgown but doesn't ask about them because its late and they're both tired.

They ask about the marks the next morning at breakfast but Alcina avoids the question because she's still afraid of scaring her s/o away.

That night more vampire hunters show up after one that got away the previous night informs his friends of what happened.

Alcina and her daughters are still tired from the previous night but have to fight anyways.

S/o is told to stay out of it but when the youngest daughter takes a hard hit they grab a sword that was hanging on the wall and jump into the fight, immediately taking out a hunter.

But s/o doesn't notice the crossbow aimed at them until it's too late. They brace for death but upon opening their eyes wondering how they're still alive they see Alcina off to their side. With a huge wing in front of them, the arrow meant for them having pierced the middle of Alcina's wing.

Between her daughter getting hurt and her s/o nearly dying Alcina is pretty pissed off and ends the other hunters within seconds.

The daughters break off to clean themselves up while Alcina wordlessly starts heading back to her room, injured wing dragging behind her. Of course her s/o follows her, with an apology for not listening and getting her hurt.

S/o helps clean up all wounds Alcina has, including the wing. They only have one question during it all and it's "Why did you keep them hidden?". Alcina then quietly explains she didn't want to scare them off since dating a vampire was definitely already unusual.

From then on s/o loves whenever the two of them are outside and Alcina lets her wings drag freely behind her as they walk. They also love hugs that include the wings. Alcina notices that there's no better way to make her s/o feel safer after a bad day or a nightmare than being in her lap wrapped in a wing or 2.

Both With Wings

Flying together. A lot, almost daily. Over the village, through the mountains and forest. Sometimes going high into the clouds and sometimes so low they skim the treetops.

Wings are great when it comes to hugs. After a long day or tough fight group hugs (this includes the daughters) on Alcinas huge bed are common (almost expected after a while). Alcina and s/o against the headboard with the 3 daughters between them covered by 2 large wings.

They're also great for intimidating people. It doesn't take much to scare hunters away when two tall figures with huge wings are stalking them in the shadows just out of sight while their daughters stand in the light just waiting for someone to make the first move.

One night s/o finds a kid, maybe a 9-10yo, lost in the woods in the middle of the night. Of course not wanting to let a child freeze to death they pick the kid up and wrap a wing around them to keep them warm as they head back to the castle.

Alcina may seem cold hearted to some, but she won't let innocent children suffer. So when s/o moves their wing to reveal a small, shivering kid in their arms her mom instincts kick in. She takes the kid and wraps them in her own wings to keep them warm while s/o grabs some clean clothes and a few blankets (which prove to be unnecessary when the kid falls asleep on Alcina and she refuses to put them down so she doesn't disturb them)

Lots of using wings to smack Daniela and sometimes the others from down the table when they're being snarky at meal times.

Cocoons. When s/o and Alcina can't be together for any reason they can both be caught cocooned in their wings pretending its a hug from the other.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Raise the Stakes, Part 13

I just had to sneak in one more part before the big showdown tonight. Aside from this, the card for Resurgence looks awesome!

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC x Jay White

Word count: 2,897

Content advisory: sexual content (not as graphic as previous parts, but still more than just mentions), language

Previous sections (and the prequel) available on the Master List

This is completely normal, you tell yourself. He has a big match tomorrow. He needs a clear head and sleep and, as he’s fond of telling you, he doesn’t get either of those things when the two of you are together. It makes sense that he’d want to spend tonight at his own place, by himself.

So why do you feel like something horrible is happening?

You close your eyes but the second you do, you get a vision ofJay lifting David limp body off the mat. You can still hear that awful crack of David’s unprotected skull hitting the chair and immediately you feel sick to your stomach, just as you had when you’d watched the moment unfold. You were as powerless then as you are now to change it. All you could do was follow the assistants who’d come to help him to the medic’s room.

By the time they got him back there, there was already a red welt visible on his forehead. He was barely conscious, growling at anyone who tried to help him until you approached. He hadn’t said anything, just leaned into your body and let his head fall on your shoulder. He wasn’t aware enough to notice that you were crying, even when a few of your tears dripped onto his skin.

You’d held him tight until the doctor arrived, her expression doing nothing to ease your mind. Nevertheless, after a thorough check, she pronounced that he wasn’t concussed and wasn’t injured beyond the obvious bumps and bruises. Not physically at least.

Of course, you’d insisted that he come back to your place where you could keep an eye on him and take care of the wounds he had sustained. Well, you hadn’t really had to insist. He was happy to go along, laughing at the way you tried to do everything for him. It became a rather hilarious tug of war, you trying everything to keep him still and him doing everything to annoy you, getting himself a bottle of water from the fridge, trying to make something for dinner until you’d literally smacked his ass repeatedly with a spatula, which had you both laughing so hard you almost fell down.

Getting him into bed was a battle, too, and once you got him undressed and relaxed, he’d immediately started to get frisky. He kept insisting that he was fine and had ended up spending time both last night and the first part of the day today showing you just how fine he was.

“I can’t wait until this weekend is over,” he hissed into your skin during one intimate moment.

You’d agreed because, despite the fact that there are other shows and other matches coming up, there does seem to be a sense of finality around their showdown this weekend. Sure after this, Jay’s going to calm down or get distracted and he won’t be so determined to screw with your lives.

“Never again,” Jay had fairly shrieked, sitting on David’s chest, clinging on to his belt. “You will never beat me again.”

Sure, his words made perfect sense within the context of their fight for the belt and Jay’s determination to avenge his loss months ago. But you knew that wasn’t it. The animalistic way they’d stared each other down before the fight, the rush to get started. Jay always loved to tease confronting an enemy but backed out at the last seconds toying with them until he was convinced he’d rattled their nerves. Not last night. He and David had gone right after each other, brawling like they were in a bar.

Thinking of that reminds you of a night you haven’t thought about in years, back in their early days, your early days, in the dojo. It’s not a night you should remember at all, given the condition you were in but you remember it, or at least the end of it, perfectly.

The three of you had been out drinking. Drinking a lot. You’d stumbled back to your barracks leaning on one another to form some sort of solid mass that could stay upright. You’d still ended up tumbling a few times, which was hardly surprising. You must have all had some kind of homing instinct because none of you could tell where the hell you were.

You knew that by the time you made it back, the door would be locked but your super power at that time was that you were small enough and flexible enough to get through the window in the kitchen that was stuck open. You’d needed a boost from the guys, which had taken a couple of efforts, but you were eventually able to scramble through and unlock the front door, albeit after crashing into so many things and making so much noise that there was no way anyone slept through it.

Your room was in another area of the building but you’d just headed to their room. You’d passed out on the floor on several occasions, always on the floor even though you’d already started sleeping with Jay by that point. The two of you were half-assed pretending that nothing was happening, even though you’d very quietly fool around before falling asleep.

You’d been keeping things a secret to avoid gossip but also, at least on your part, because you hadn’t wanted to hurt David. It was clear already that he was sweet on you and you’d figured that as long as it wasn’t right there out in the open, you could pretend that there was no reason for him to feel hurt. Later on, you’d confide in him about how miserable Jay was making you, but at that point, things were still fun, still inconsequential.

In retrospect, you realize this period must have been agony for him. Jay was a braggart and had advertised his conquest to his roommate pretty much right away, but from there, you’d all pretended that nothing was happening. It’s only been in the last few weeks that you found out just how much and how early he’d liked you. Going through that must have sucked.

But on that particular night, there was no problem because you were all feeling no pain, either physical or emotional. You’d ended up crawling up the stairs on all fours, basically pulling both of them along with you. Jay had informed you loudly that he needed to take a piss and you and David had somehow made it back to their room.

It was dark, which meant the two of you were stumbling all over the place, but eventually David had flopped down onto his bed and turned on the lamp that stood on the shelf just above it. Unfortunately, as he did so, he’d knocked the lamp backward and left it hanging precariously, wedged between the headboard and the wall.

“David, get the light!” You’d been laughing so hard you could barely get the words out. There were tears streaming down your cheeks.

“It’s ok,” he mumbled, laughing as much as his semi-conscious body would let him.

“It’s not ok, David, you have to get the lamp because it’s going to…” You could not for the life of you remember the word “fall” in that moment.

After a few more seconds, you’d gone over to retrieve the lamp yourself, not that you were particularly graceful at it, balancing yourself as best you could on the edge of David’s bed and placing one hand on the wall to try to keep steady, all while trying not to collapse onto David’s chuckling form.

Out of nowhere, he’d snaked an arm around your leg and pulled you down onto his face, which made you both laugh even harder. You’d been giggling as he clumsily pushed your panties out of the way and started licking you with sloppy enthusiasm.

“Oh my god, David, what the hell,” you laughed. “That tickles!”

Maybe you would have told him to stop, or he just would have passed out in the middle of what he was doing because he was just that loaded, but before either of those things could happen, you’d been interrupted.

“What the fuck?” Jay was standing unsteadily in the doorway.

You’d tried to shush him as you fell back a little, sitting on David’s chest. He was laughing too but Jay decidedly was not.

“What are you, eating her pussy?”

You’d just cracked up laughing. David hadn’t opened his eyes, just grinned in a drunk, goofy way and responded, “I don’t know. Sort of?”

“Turn the light off,” Jay snapped.

“I’m trying to!” Another wave of laughter rolled over you as you’d pondered the ridiculousness of not being able to turn off a light.

“Turn the fucking light off!” Jay yelled.

He gave it a hard kick and shattered the bulb, solving the problem. He’d helped you stand up and although you couldn’t see him well, you’d felt like David was already unconscious as Jay led you over to his bed.

He’d pushed you down and started pulling your clothes away, which was unusual. Part of trying to keep things secret was learning how to fool around without getting naked and being as quiet as possible. But that night, Jay had been insistent about getting you naked. He’d been rough and he’d been loud. And he’d bit and pinched and scratched at you until you were loud as well. If you hadn’t managed to wake everyone in the building up with your arrival, that must have done the trick.

The only person it didn’t disturb was David, whose light snoring you could hear while you were going at it.

Jay had never been one to stare into your eyes and focus intently on you during sex, not back then at least. He’d look at you, then away, like he was thinking of what he could do next, or what he could get you to do. But as you remember the night now, you realize that his eyes flickered repeatedly towards the other bed, vibrant with anger. You knew that Jay had come to see you as one of his belongings during the time that you’d been working for him, but it’s only now that you realize how early that had started. Even then, when he’d been very clear that the two of you were not exclusive, he’d been livid at the idea that someone else would touch what was his.

The son of a bitch would have known that David was hung up on you, too. He’d done his best to make sure that he’d hear him fucking you right there in the room, like David didn’t even exist. David who at that point was still his best friend.

You don’t know if David woke up while all this was happening. You hope he didn’t. Although he’d apologized for what he called “his behavior” the next day, you’ve never been sure how much he remembers. Certainly by this point, it might have faded from his memory entirely. You hope that’s the case. You hope he doesn’t remember it anything like the way you do.

In his position, you don’t know if you’d ever be able to trust you, to believe that your emotions weren’t contaminated or at least inconsistent. You can’t believe that doubts don’t start to creep in the second you’re out of his sight, which is why, although it’s understandable that he’d want to spend the night by himself tonight, you feel worried. The second he starts thinking about how many problems you’re causing and how much he’s had to deal with for years because of you, he’s likely to move to Siberia just to ensure he never sees you again.

And as if you weren’t capable of driving yourself crazy with anxiety on your own, Jay’s trying his best to make it worse. Since you are the talent liaison for New Japan in America and Jay is a New Japan performer currently working in America, you’re no longer allowed to stop him from accessing you and tonight, he’s apparently decided to take full advantage of that.

Your phone lights up to indicate another text message. You check every time because it could be David, or someone actually trying to contact you for work, as opposed to what Jay’s doing, which is trying to drive you right out of your mind. But it seems like no one has anything to say to you except Jay.

Are you alone or do you have to take care of your boy tonight?

I hope you’re not wearing him out. I want him to remember how easy it is for me to beat him even at his best. And I know how you can be.

Try not to think about me when you two are going at it.

If he’s not there, come over. I’ll keep my hands to myself if you do.

You know I can get women whenever I want but I never stop thinking about the filthy things I’d like to do to you.

Play the good girl all you want, I know you’re going to be thinking about that last text for hours. I’ll bet you’ll even touch yourself.

Send pictures when you do. No reason for us not to enjoy ourselves.

Wonder how he’d react if I told him you were coming over. Guess I could find out. Not like he’d know I was lying. Or maybe I’m not lying?

That last one does it. You can’t just ignore that because you don’t know if he’s going to make good on the threat. So you type back the only two words you can think of: STOP IT.

Ha. I knew you weren’t sleeping. And I’ll bet your sweet prince is back at his place because he wants to be focused for tomorrow. Poor boy denying himself his last meal.

You flinch and respond again in all capital letters: I MEAN IT. KNOCK IT OFF.

You’re tense. You should definitely come over. I’ll give you a back rub.

You should have just let him keep texting and gone to sleep, not that you can sleep because you’re so tense about things with David and the fact that Jay’s threatening to ruin them. Now you’re caught in one of his mazes that you can never seem to find your way out of.

Fine, you’re not coming over. Phone sex?

NO.

Come on, it’s probably the one thing we haven’t done before. Call me.

NO. GOD WILL YOU JUST STOP? I’M TRYING TO SLEEP.

I know how to help you calm down. Call.

Ok, seriously, let me help you relax. We don’t have to talk about you putting my dick in your mouth.

You roll your eyes and answer: Nothing with you relaxes me.

Seriously, I have a technique.

NO.

You’re no fun. Think I’ll bug Super Dave for a bit.

You don’t even text him back. You call because at least if he’s on the phone, he can’t be texting David to tell him god knows what.

“Well this is a nice surprise,” he purrs.

“You can’t do this. I need to sleep. Hell, you need to sleep. Just let it go, Jay.”

“I don’t really need to be well rested to beat Finlay. He got lucky the one time. Even you don’t believe he’s good enough to beat me twice.”

“Maybe I don’t care if he wins or not. Maybe I’ll be happy because I get to be with him one way or the other.”

“I’ll bet he cares.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No, come on, I promised I’d help you sleep and now you’re even more worked up.”

You try to think of a smart comeback but you can’t. He waits a minute before continuing.

“Are you lying down?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but yes.”

“It’s purely professional interest, I promise.” You can hear a dark laugh buried in his voice. “Lay flat on your back and close your eyes.”

You’re not sure why but you do as he says. You do need to sleep and maybe the bastard actually can help with that.

“I want you to breathe all the way in, really slowly, through your nose.”

You give it a shot and he immediately interrupts.

“Don’t do it like you’re angry at me. Soft and slow, until your lungs feel full.”

You comply, fighting to keep from getting angry at him.

“Ok, now exhale very slowly through your mouth. All the way.” When he’s satisfied you’ve done that properly, he continues, “Keep doing that, as slow as you can manage. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You can’t deny that you can feel your body start to relax after only a few repetitions.

“Now take your hand and place it over your face, right along the hairline. Just barely let your fingers touch your skin. Then run your hand down your face, all the way to your neck. Keep your touch as light as you can.”

The sensation makes you shiver but as much as you feel like your nerves are being activated, you also feel like you’re pulling the tension out of your body. He tells you to repeat this gesture a few times, always keeping your breathing slow and even.

“Good night princess,” he whispers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The line goes dead before you can say anything.

[jungkookiebus]

Voracious pt. 5 | kth & jjk

Genre: smut x fluff x idol!au x bi poly established relationship  Pairing: idol!Taehyung x idol!Jungkook x reader Rating: 18+ Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: mentions of being in quarantine (real time fic lol), cunnilingus, edging multiple times, dom!tae, light degradation? but not really, pet names, face fucking with fingers, choking, ass play, hand job, anal, creampie, unprotected sex, voyeurism  Summary: When in isolation!

“Fuck.”

Sweat rolled down your face as the room grew hotter. It was a small bathroom and you had been in there for at least fifteen minutes. The lack of proper ventilation made it impossible for you to cool off. Your bare ass had been cold when he you sat on the marble surface of the counter, but now you were struggling to stay in one place as the temperature rose. You had since knocked most of the toiletries around into the sink or onto the floor, but none of it was a concern to either of you. If broken, they were replaceable. Taehyung was on his knees between your legs edging you for the second time. Your thighs shook as his full lips once again parted with your swollen pussy, a trail of spit connecting him to you as you continued to drip onto the counter.

“Please let me cum,” you breathed out. Your palms squeaked along the smooth surface and you used the strength you had to keep your back reclined against the mirror as much as possible.

“Hmm,” he hummed while licking his lips.

The look in his eyes said he wasn’t quite done yet as he dived back in. You moaned, head hitting the mirror as you tried to grab the edges of the counter.

Another fifteen minutes, and two more orgasm denials later, he had your cum dripping off the edge of the counter as you finally came. He looked smugly delighted with himself, lips swollen and full, face glistening in the lights as he sat back on his heels.

“Didn’t you come in here to ask me something?” His smile was sweet, and you almost wanted to smack it off his face.

“I don’t know why I let you do this to me,” you said, slumping against the mirror, legs absolute mush and hanging off the counter.

He began to massage them soothingly as he hummed some nonsense tune, waiting for you to come down and finally speak.

“It’s more of a tentative request,” you finally breathed as you sat forward a little. You were starting to get a crick in your neck at that angle.

His eyes were shining as he looked up at you, hands still working over your muscles. “What’s that, babe?”

“I wanna watch this time.”

He stilled, hands grasped firmly around your leg as he looked almost at your now drying cunt, but his mind was elsewhere.

“What do you mean?”

He seemed almost scared to know the answer, unsure of what you were going to say.

“Not like what I did.”

He let out a low whistle as he sighed. You laughed as you watched his posture relax, and he went back to massaging your legs lightly.

“Okay,” he began, “what would you like?”

You bit at your bottom lip and drummed your fingers along the counter. A shiver ran through your body as you began to cool off, fully aware that you were still naked from the waist down and sitting on the cool countertop.

It was an off time, well, not by choice. All of you were in quarantine due to the recent virus outbreak and you had been spending most of your days at Taehyung’s apartment, with Jungkook right down the hallway in the same building. Mostly, you’d all sit around and watch movies, take naps, or eat what you could find, but when the boredom set in is when moments like these happened. You hadn’t expected it when you came into the bathroom to ask him a question. Of course, it was about sex, but you weren’t expecting anything. Before you could get a word out edgewise, he was pulling your pajama pants down and sitting you on the counter. Now, here you were.

“I…I just want…”

“Why are you being so shy?” He stood up now, helping you from the counter and pulling your pants on for you.  

“Because I feel selfish asking.”

His brow furrowed, those thick eyebrows you loved so much almost touching. He was clearly flipping through every thought in his head because you could see each time it changed, his eyes searched the space in front of him, while his lips parted, and his breathing became heavier.

“Is there something wrong? Have we made you feel uncomfortable somehow?”

“No!” you exclaimed. You cupped his cheeks in your hands, squishing them slightly. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I still get shy is all.”

His jaw visibly relaxed and his shoulders slumped. You felt bad for worrying him over something so trivial.

This time you barely spoke above a whisper.

“I want to see you ruin Jungkook.”

“What?” He genuinely hadn’t heard you.

With a little more confidence this time you lifted your chin and spoke louder.

“I want to see you ruin Jungkook.” Then it just came out like word vomit. “I want him begging you to fuck him. I want to see tears streaming down his face as he becomes putty in your hands. By the time it’s all over, I want him a crying mess that can barely move.”

Taehyung’s body went rigid before you as he stared down at you. His eyes widened more than you had ever seen him, and he looked to be holding his breath. You saw the way his pupils dilated, and his cheeks were dusted with pink. The silence between you seemed to draw on forever. You happened to glance down and realized why. He was hard in his sweats and he was willing himself not to explode as you spoke. You met his gaze again and his jaw flexed.

“Text him, now,” he demanded in a low tone.

Immediately, you searched the countertop, finding your phone quickly.

“W-what do you want me to say?” Your hands were almost shaking as you brought up your text messages.

“Just get him here.”

It never took much convincing to get Jungkook to do something unless he was being unnecessarily bratty or playing video games, but he was always so eager to please that he would answer anyone’s call. All it took for you to say was ‘I need you’ to have him at Taehyung’s door within minutes. You stood behind Tae a few feet as he answered the door and watched as he pulled a confused Jungkook into the apartment. He quickly pulled him into a crushing embrace as he shut the door, lips covering his. You watched as Jungkook’s body totally relaxed, hands falling to his sides as he gave in to Tae’s advances.

The confusion Tae had wiped clean came back as he pulled away. You could hear his heavy breathing from where he stood. Jungkook looked around his shoulder at you. You knew your face was heated, incredibly turned on again by Tae’s dominant display after your confession. He moved to go around Taehyung towards you, but he firmly grasped the front of his sweatshirt in his fist before he could move further.

He clicked his tongue before leaning over to speak to him. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

Jungkook’s ears instantly turned red as he gulped audibly.

“Hyung…,” he whispered, eyes darting to yours.

You were rubbing your thighs together, that much he could see from where he stood, and you could tell he was itching to go to you, but Tae kept him in place.

“_____,” Tae said, looking half over his shoulder at you. “Be a good girl and go sit in the armchair.”

You licked your lips, giving him a nod he probably didn’t see as you studied Jungkook’s face one last time. He looked genuinely confused as to what was happening, but you were sure that Tae’s body was blocking his inevitable erection. Moving quickly, excited, you made your way to the living room.

Their apartments were in a high rise downtown and the large windows displayed a town coming to life for the evening, but only through other windows. Lights were being switched on or off, people came out on their balconies for fresh air, and beyond the dim glow of a semi sleeping city, the sun was setting over the mountains. Vibrant hues of purple, orange, yellow, and blue cast the room in a kaleidoscope glow. All his furniture was white, settling it all it its own, natural color pattern. Seconds after you sat down, Tae emerged with a dutiful Jungkook in tow.

The armchair in which you perched yourself was at the end of a long couch, facing the end so that you could see down the length of it. Tae gently grasped his hips from behind and guided him to stand against the back of the couch, facing out into the room. Jungkook’s gaze slipped to yours and he seemed to be waiting for you to join, but when you didn’t move to join, his brow furrowed. Tae began kissing the length of his neck and Jungkook’s eyes fluttered shut as he moaned.

Fresh arousal bloomed inside of you as you watched Tae grasp Jungkook’s jaw and tilted his head to the side as he began to suck on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. His other arm was wrapped firmly around his waist as he pushed himself into his back and Jungkook into the couch. Jungkook moaned deeply as Tae pushed his cloth covered cock into his ass. He buckled forward, hands on the back of the couch to catch himself as Tae slowly moved his hips into his. His eyes were closed, mouth open, as Tae dug his fingers in his slim waist, rutting against Jungkook to get some friction on his cock while Jungkook merely took it. He knew better than to say anything right now lest Tae make him wait longer than usual for some type of relief.

Jungkook peered out at you under his dark fringe.

“W-why…why isn’t _ ____ c-coming over-r-.” He was cut short as Tae pushed his hips into him a little harder, causing him to stutter.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stop asking questions.”

Tae pushed his hands into the front of Jungkook’s sweats as he leaned over, causing his hips to part with the back of the couch. Jungkook moaned loudly as Tae wrapped his hand around his cock, his whole entire body shuddering as he slowly pumped his hand over him.

You were so hot you could hardly stand it. You wanted to strip off your clothes, but you knew if you did it would all be over. Tae would disobey everything you said and would soon be dragging you over to the couch to fuck you senseless. You settled back into the chair comfortably, crossing your legs, and you felt your cunt pulse with desire as Tae laid his head on Jungkook’s back, looking at you while he worked Jungkook up with his hands. His mouth was open, breathing hotly into the grey fabric of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He pulled one of his hands from his pants, reached forward and stuck his pointer and middle finger into his mouth. Jungkook moaned out wantonly around them as Tae pulled his head back.

Tae’s hand moved a little faster on his cock and you felt heat bubble up from your stomach to your chest.

As if reading your mind, Tae demanded, “Push your sweats down so ____ can watch.”

With shaky hands, Jungkook pulled at the waistband, pushing them past his hard cock that Tae still had a tight grip on. You couldn’t help the low moan that escaped you now that you could finally see. Tae pushed his still clothed hips into Jungkook’s as he pumped just a little faster, pushing his fingers further into his mouth. You saw the faint glisten of drool as it began to drip out of Jungkook’s mouth and down his chin and around Tae’s fingers. His cock was so red, so pretty and begging to be relieved. You felt high watching this. This was all you ever wanted, and you were going to enjoy every second. You weren’t sure why Jungkook still mostly being clothed did something to you, but the ‘mystery’ of what was underneath was so erotic. He looked so simple, so casual, yet so beautiful bent over the couch in his sweats, drool in the collar, and Tae pushing himself into him.

Jungkook was quickly falling apart as Tae teased him with the promise of his own cock, dry humping him as his hand soon became sticky with precum leaking from Jungkook. You heard him gag as Tae pushed his fingers just a little further into his mouth. His hand grasped the couch firmly as Tae pushed into him harder and faster. Your mind raced with images of Tae finally pulling out his cock and fucking him. You, too, moaned as whatever resolve Jungkook had left was quickly dissipating into the room. Tears slipped out of the corners of his eyes with each push of Tae’s hips, he cried louder and louder. You heard the faint tap against tight fabric of the couch as Jungkook’s drool dripped off his chin. Jungkook gasped when Tae finally pulled his fingers from his mouth, quickly reaching between the two of them, and ran his fingers into the valley of his ass.

You resisted the temptation to reach down the front of your own pants as Jungkook’s whimpers raised in pitch. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked to watch, but you were too far in at this point and this is what you wanted. Now you knew exactly how they felt when Hobi fucked you.

Tae let go of his cock in favor of bracing himself with Jungkook’s shoulder as he shoved his fingers inside of him.  

“Fuuuck,” Jungkook moaned out as a shiver ran through his body. He would have fallen forward if it wasn’t for Tae’s firm grip on his shoulder.

“Stay up, baby boy, and take it,” he growled as he pushed his fingers up to the knuckle.

Jungkook was on the border of adorable and a mess. His oversized sweatshirt bunched at his wrists, threatening to swallow his hands and the hem brushed along his cock as his hips moved with each thrust of Tae’s fingers. The head of his cock rubbed the back of the couch, smearing precum along the fabric, but Jungkook was pushing so hard against Tae’s hand that he had to brace his legs to stay up.

“T-Tae…,” he stuttered. He was moaning mostly incoherent words as Tae pushed his long fingers into his prostate. His sweats fell the rest of the way off, exposing the toned length of his legs.

You licked your lips as you watched the muscles twitch in his thighs, imagining yourself on your knees in front of him, taking his cock into your mouth.

“What do you want?” Tae pulled him up straighter until his back met his chest, whispering hotly into his ear. “Use your words.”

Jungkook could barely talk as Tae drove his fingers a little harder, still up to the knuckle.

“Fuck m-me, please.”

Tae turned his head to look at you, face set in determination as he held onto Jungkook, who was almost on his tip toes, and looked at you heatedly. Oh, how you wished to walk over and kiss him, stand behind him, reaching around to grab Jungkook’s cock as you both brought him to completion. But you were okay with watching, this was enough.

“Do you think I should?” Tae asked you huskily.

Jungkook’s head was thrown back, but he opened his eyes to look at you out of the corner, slowly looking at you as you sat squirming in the chair. His eyes were glazed as he tried to focus on you.

“______,” he muttered pleadingly.

You didn’t think you could speak, your mouth was so dry, but you nodded instead, giving Tae permission. You weren’t blind to the fact that he had been painfully hard since your suggestion in the first place.

He pulled his fingers away and hastily slipped his sweats over his ass and you involuntarily clenched. Tae’s ass was one of your favorite assets and you loved to play with him. He pumped himself, palming the head of his cock, before languidly gliding his hand over the smooth skin again. Tae was the picture of self-control when it came to sex. He’d edge himself while also edging you, bringing you both to intense orgasms when he allowed you. But this time, he was giving you what you wanted. A show.

He let his cock nestle in between Jungkook’s ass cheeks, pushing it upwards so that he got some relief from his soft skin.

“You’re gonna be good for me, baby?” Tae asked as he grabbed Jungkook’s hips, watching his cock move over his ass.

“I’ll be so good.” Jungkook was breaking down quickly. He was subtly pushing his hips against Tae which elicited a harsh slap on him ass from him.

“Then quit moving.”

Jungkook stilled, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the couch. His breathing was short as he focused all his attention into remaining as still as possible.

“What a good boy,” Tae cooed.

Your panties were well and thoroughly stuck to your folds, ruining probably even your pajama pants. How many mornings had you laid in bed touching yourself imagining this exact situation? Too many to count. You were lucky enough to get to participate, but this was something different, something new. When any of you had sex with just one other, the other was not around to watch, but this was something you could get used to.

Tae guided his cock further between his ass cheeks. Right hand still firmly grasping Jungkook’s hip, he used his left to grab it, tapping it against his ass before lining himself up. Jungkook hissed, coming up on his toes as he pushed inside, and Tae quieted him with a gentle ‘shhh’ and kisses to his neck. Sweat ran down Jungkook’s face and into his sweatshirt, spots dotted darker than the rest as he began to sweat through. Tae always knew how to move his hips so fluidly, like a wave against the shore, rolling up quickly and slowing down, crashing against his partner. Your body shivered in time with Jungkook’s imagining the feel of him inside. He moaned out loudly as Tae pulled out halfway and seated himself again quickly.

Tae leaned in closer, lips trailing wetly across Jungkook’s ear and temple before he spoke.

“I think we need to show ____ a little more don’t you think?”

Jungkook nodded halfheartedly, sweat dripping from his hair. Tae held onto his hips and walked him the short distance to the end of the couch, and directly in front of you. You almost shrank back, unsure of what was happening when Tae sat down on the end of the couch, Jungkook in his lap and facing you. Jungkook looked more of a mess from this angle and you bit into you bottom lip hard. His cock was so hard, veins bulbous under that satin skin, and it bobbed against his clothed stomach. Tae pulled the hem up, prompting Jungkook to remove his sweatshirt. His skin gleamed underneath, hotter because of the thick layer of cotton. Your head swam with the scent in the room; sex, sweat, and mix of Tae’s cologne and Jungkook’s fruity body wash. Tae planted his feet firmly on the floor and you watched as his fingers snaked around, holding Jungkook’s tiny waist in his larger hands. Jungkook always looked so small, but next to Tae he looked even smaller.

“Hold your legs up, baby,” Tae whispered.

Jungkook immediately complied, hands firm on the backs of his knees as he pulled them closer to his chest. You saw the way Tae’s calves muscles flexed and his fingertips pressed into Jungkook’s skin before he was driving his hips into him. His heavy balls bounced as he pushed faster and faster into Jungkook’s tight ass, his own cock hitting against his stomach with each movement. Jungkook was like a ragdoll in his lap, body almost limp as he struggled to hold his legs up. He could no longer keep his eyes open as his head fell forward and then back again, giving in and sinking into the feeling. His mouth fell open, lip glistening in the dying sunlight as drool once again began to slip at the corners. You couldn’t see Tae behind him, but you heard his heavy breathing and the smack of his lips as he kissed Jungkook’s back. Your mind reeled, wanting to be able to watch and hear everything at once. This would haunt your dreams in the best ways possible. You were almost on the edge of your seat, watching Tae’s cock disappear into Jungkook’s tight ass and you wanted so badly to reach out and grab his cock in your hand, pumping him until he came all over his stomach. But you resisted. Instead, Tae reached around, grasping him firmly at the base which elicited a long, guttural moan out of Jungkook. His body tensed up as Tae began to work his cock expertly, knowing exactly what would get him there.

“Is my baby boy going to cum for me?” You heard him ask. His other arm was wrapped around his waist and from the sound of it, he had his face pressed to his back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jungkook’s eyes screwed shut as his mouth fell open into a raspy moan, cum painting his stomach in long, thick strips and leaking over Tae’s hand and down his balls.

Tae let go of his half hard cock to hold his waist again, smearing his cum along the way as he thrust his hips up into him even harder. Jungkook was a sobbing, slobbery mess bouncing on Tae’s cock and your attention was torn between his expressions and the way Tae’s balls seemed to be tightening up. Jungkook didn’t seem to know which way was up, entirely blissed out on the feeling of his orgasm and Tae driving his cock into his ass. Within moments, Tae slammed into him one last time with an animal like growl. The feeling of his cum filling him up caused Jungkook to moan loudly in satisfaction. Tae pulled him upwards off his cock but kept Jungkook’s legs draped over his thighs as he slumped against him.

“Show it to her,” Tae demanded.

Jungkook knew exactly what he meant as his hips tilted upwards and you watched him push the cum out of his ass. God how you wanted to fall to your knees and eat it out of him, but right now you were going to let this situation finish.

Silence was soon blanketing the room, breathing became even, and the three of you were cloaked in darkness with only the city lights illuminating the space. When Jungkook finally felt like he could move he started to lean, reaching towards you. He slipped off Tae’s lap, knees to the floor as he settled his head into your lap.

“You smell so good,” he said as he inhaled deeply, face dangerously close to your center. “Did you enjoy it?”

You ran your fingers through his hair lovingly and he sighed deeply.

“Every second, baby.”

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[marinaaniseed]

Dark ‘n’ Stormy, Pt. 11

Summary: It’s the day after the stuffing chapter. New Asgard decides which system of government it wants. Not much smut, an awful lot of politics.

Length: 6.9k. A more sensible person than me might try to edit this down, but honestly, I feel like you’d all be horribly disappointed if I didn’t write all the words.

Warnings: Eh the usual. Kinky food stuff, smut, drinking, swearing, mental health wonkiness, Asgardian politics, body shaming, intrusive media, social media shittiness, uncomfortable family relationships, mentions of starting a family, mentions of dead characters, smutty pictures, some ridiculously long speeches that might give you feels. I think that’s it.

Notes: This chapter, quite literally, took months to write. Apologies, therefore, if it’s a bit disjointed or I contradict myself. This bad boy is now over 50k in total (!) It took a while, because I couldn’t quite decide how I wanted it to go. Also, writing a story a day for the entire year is quite time consuming and a really fucking terrible idea. Typos and errors are all my own but please alert me to anything spectacularly bad so I can fix. I’ve not given this any distance, so I am hella word-blind.

Also, one of you gets a mention :P

Need a reminder of what’s happened? Pt. 10 & the masterlist.

If you like what I do, please let me know.

It wasn’t the cockerels crowing that woke you, but the dogs excitedly greeting someone.

“Whuh time issit?” you mumbled into Thor’s hair, your hand resting on his still full tummy as you spooned the sleepy Thunder God.

“Too early.”

He wasn’t wrong. Groggily you pulled yourself away, rummaging around for something to throw on so you could investigate who your visitor was.

Opening the bedroom door, you spied the Valkyrie crouched down by the settee, rubbing Geri’s tummy.

“Why?” you asked, not really awake enough to form a proper question.

“Why what?” Valkyrie responded, continuing to fuss the dog at her feet.

“Why are you here? Now? At this godforsaken time?”

“Has Thor forsaken this time in particular?”

Your glare said it all.

“I jest, sorry. Have you been online? Checked your phone? Seen or heard the news?”

“For fuck’s sake, Brunnhilde,” you said, startling the dogs and finally rousing Thor, “I’ve literally just gotten up. Because of you. When would I have done any of that? And why does it matter?”

“I’ll make the coffee, you go get Thor.”

You’d barely turned and taken a step, when you collided with the solid mass that was your lover.

“What’s wrong? Why is the Valkyrie here?” he asked, holding you to his stomach.

“Not a fucking clue.”

You weren’t exactly a morning person. Even less so after a few cocktails, and when your awakening had been rude. Not the good kind of rude, either. Thor knew, from prior experience, that waking you unexpectedly was like deciding to disturb a wasp’s nest. Nothing good would come of it and it wasn’t something you’d likely repeat in a hurry. You were a surly, venomous grump, sure to sting whatever had disturbed you.

Either Brunnhilde was more foolhardy than he thought, or something was seriously wrong.

Brunnhilde returned to find you slouched on the settee, buried in Thor’s hoodie with the hood pulled up and over, almost to the point of covering your eyes, in a vain attempt at ignoring the world. The steaming mug of caffeine placed on the table next to you was met with a snort of derision, and it was with no small amount of trepidation that Thor sat next to you, before pulling you onto his lap. Maybe whatever had brought the Valkyrie would concern only him, and you could doze off against his chest.

“Did you enjoy your pizza last night?” Brunnhilde asked, breaking the frosty silence.

“Yes,” Thor smiled at the memory. “How did you know we had pizza?”

“That’s what brought me here. I’m sorry it’s so early.”

Why would pizza have brought her here, Thor wondered. Did she need a recipe? Did she have some left over? Was she planning to open a pizza place in New Asgard?

“Someone… someone, erm, they snapped some pictures of you. The two of you. In the restaurant. They must’ve recognised you.”

“So?” Thor queried softly, hoping that you had begun to return to sleep in his arms.

“Well, they sold them to some media people. You’re, erm, trending on Twitter. I wanted to tell you before you saw for yourselves, some of the reporting is… unflattering.”

Yeah. Thor could already picture it. Being fat and in the public eye was just a magnet for the worst kind of people.

“If they’ve worked out who Y/N is, it’s not been published yet, but it’s only a matter of time,” Brunnhilde continued.

“Ah, balls,” you said, finally joining the conversation.

“Indeed. A few months back, I asked some friends to do some digging on you. Don’t be alarmed, I just wanted to be prepared for the time when it eventually emerged that you and Thor were together. I didn’t find anything to be worried about in what they found on you, but I understand that there may be things that you’d prefer to stay private. The silence of those involved can be arranged, if you wish.”

There were certainly things in your past that you weren’t exactly proud of. You probably should’ve realised that you couldn’t stay under the radar forever.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t waste your resources, or those of your friends. I’ve been alive long enough to know that if the tabloid press thinks there’s a story, they’ll dig it up somehow. Or just make one up. I’ve done what I’ve done, and that’s the end of that. Anyone commenting on my life probably has stuff they’d rather keep secret,” you answered with a sigh.

“Very well. Do you want to read the dossier?”

“No, no. I’m sure it’s very thorough and accurate. Thor, do you want to read it?”

“Anything you wish to tell me about your past, you can tell me about yourself,” he answered, running his fingers through your hair. “Whatever you have done, it’s of no consequence. You’re here now, that’s all that matters. Some youthful follies could not reverse my love for you.”

You nuzzled your face into his chest hair to hide the tears you could feel beginning to sting your eyes.

“Is that all, Brunnhilde? May we return to bed?” Thor said.

“Yes, of course. Apologies once again for disturbing you. I just wanted you to hear it from a friend before you heard it elsewhere.”

You were fast asleep again by the time Thor gently laid you back on the bed. You must’ve been warm in his hoodie, the early rays of sunshine beginning to seep into the bedroom, but he didn’t want to disturb you. His mind was all over the place, so he decided to check the news on your tablet while you were tucked into his side.

Thor’s Hammered!

King of Ass-gard

Pizza Gut - Avenger destroys pizza buffet

Thor quickly put the tablet back down. It stung to read the words they wrote about him, but even worse was what they wrote about you. They didn’t know you, why did they get to judge you, speculate about who you were and why you were with him? You were just another name on the long list of loved ones he wasn’t able to protect.

Gingerly removing himself from your side, relieved when he didn’t wake you, Thor decided to sit back on the settee, letting Loki slither over him. The snake wasn’t as helpful as his brother, but he found it calming anyway.

15 minutes later, the sound of a message being received made him jump. Unlocking his old phone, he saw it was a message from Brunnhilde.

I know you said you didn’t want to know about Y/N’s past, but I think you might find this interesting…

There were several links at the bottom of the message. Thor didn’t want to pry, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help but be curious as to what was that important that Brunnhilde had felt the need to send him a link.

Moving as quietly as he could, he returned to the bedroom to grab the tablet, before settling back down to see what had been sent.

Typing the address was a torturous process, his fingers weren’t quite dexterous enough to easily manipulate Midgardian devices, although he was becoming more careful with them. Still, he nearly dropped the tablet when he saw where the link took him to.

It was a gallery of pictures. Pictures of you, to be exact. You weren’t naked but it was obvious that these weren’t the kind of pictures you shared with friends or family. He’d heard about these kinds of sites, adult sites they were called. The model had a different name, but it was definitely you. No doubt about it.

Pictures of you in corsets that pushed up your breasts and cinched in your waist. Pictures of you with chokers around your throat. Some pictures where you wore clothing made of a strange material that seemed to fit you like a second skin. Some more where you wore beautiful lingerie in vibrant colours, brilliant blues and vivid violets.

The pictures on the next link were a little different. Leather gloves, ball gags, handcuffs. Fishnet stockings and knee-high leather boots. Why had he never seen any of these outfits? Carefully gripping the tablet with one hand, he moved the other inside the waistband of his pants, rubbing at the head of his excited cock.

For a split second, he considered what Brunnhilde had thought of these pictures. Had she shown them to Sif? What if they’d both enjoyed them?

His cock grew harder at the thought.

And he knew he should feel a little ashamed. You hadn’t mentioned these pictures, so it probably wasn’t something you were proud of, but he couldn’t help but look, hope that others had looked, and seen just how sexy you were.

He didn’t really understand the third link. That seemed to be a niche site. You were barely visible, clad in rain gear, and wrapped in heavy duty tape to secure you to a post.

But, Brunnhilde really had saved the best until last.

Bound, gagged, blindfolded. Eyes wide in another as you looked at the woman stroking your hair as you sat tied to the chair. If he had to be king, he’d insist on having a throne, just so he could recreate that image with you. Only, in his version, you’d be wearing a lot less clothes, his face between your thighs, eating you out until the only thing keeping you upright were the ropes that held you in your place.

It was funny. He’d not really enjoyed being in chains, in a cage, when he’d encountered Surtur. But the thought of you being bound, held captive while he pleasured you in all the different ways he knew how. Now, that was something he liked the idea of.

Freeing his cock, he began to stroke in earnest, the images he’d just seen and images of what he’d like to do to you fuelling his desire. The harder he thought of them, the harder he got, and the harder he pumped his fist.

His orgasm was explosive, and Loki hissed at him angrily. Geri and Freki perked up their ears to see what the fuss was about. He knew he should move and clean himself but he was comfy, he was relaxed, he could rest here for a moment or two.

***

Evidently it was more than a moment or two when he awoke to the sound of pans clanging around in the kitchen. There’s no way you couldn’t have seen him, and there’s no way he could pretend it was anything else. He’d fallen asleep with his cock out, the evidence crusted onto his tummy.

Tucking himself back into his pants, he approached the kitchen with caution.

“Good morning, my love,” he tried.

“Good afternoon,” you corrected. “Dare I ask?” you said, looking at his gut pointedly.

Nothing good would come of lying, so he tried his best to explain the truth.

“Ah, well, what happened was, you see, Brunnhilde sent me an electronic letter with some links on my phone. So I looked at them on the tablet,” he explained.

“Brunnhilde sent you porn?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean maybe? The links were to pictures of you.”

“Ah,” you said, understanding. “Brunnhilde’s friends found those.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them. I enjoyed doing them.”

Thor doesn’t ask for an explanation, doesn’t press you, doesn’t tell you about his fantasies. You’ll tell him when you want to, if you want to. He’ll tell you when you’re not trying to cook avocado eggs Benedict.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbles before walking off to the bathroom. He’s glad that you’re not angry or upset, but he’s still embarrassed that you caught him in that position.

The shower is cold, but not cold enough to cool him down from his thoughts. Thoughts of those photos, thoughts of last night, and thoughts of what he’d like to do with you in the future. He could probably roll around on Jötunheimr and still feel too hot.

He’s quiet during brunch, but you don’t press him. You just hold his hand, silently telling him that everything will be alright.

You’d briefly checked your phone before Thor had woken up. There were so many notifications, you were afraid it might crash, and you’d put it back down again. Today was an historic day for New Asgard, you didn’t want to overshadow it by worrying about what Twitter trolls had to say about you. It keeps buzzing on the table next to you, and you continue ignoring it.

“Are you going to check that?” Thor asked. “It might be something important.”

“I don’t really want to, I’m afraid of what I might see,” you said.

“I understand, but the longer you leave it, the worse it will be. Maybe just check if there is anything from your family. You don’t want it playing on your mind throughout the day.”

Thor’s right, and so with a resigned sigh, you picked up your phone and looked at your notifications, dismissing anything that wasn’t important.

A message from Sam on Skype that read I knew you had a thing for older men, didn’t realise you liked them THAT old ;-) now I know where you are, let me know when I can visit. Ignore the haters, they’re just jealous.

There was also an entire chain of emails from your mum, without a subject. She’d never quite gotten the hang of email.

Is this you/??>????? And then a link to a news website.

It is, isn’t it.

WHy didn’t you tell us. Where you were????

Your father is looking at flights.

He’s found some cheap ones with Ryanair, we’re coming over in a fortnight. Flying to Oslo. Charlie is coming too.

He can’t find anywhere to stay in New Asgard, are there no hotels????

Answer me.

“Ah, fuck,” you said, staring at down at your phone.

“What’s the matter?” Thor asked, worried that you’d seen something critical of you.

“My family knows where I am now, they’re coming to visit,” you mumbled. “In two weeks.”

“That’s wonderful news, I can’t wait to meet them,” Thor said, kissing your hand.

“Yeah,” you said doubtfully. You loved your family, but they could be tricky at times. They were hurt, of course, by your vagueness on the subject of your whereabouts. You already knew they were going to make some unintentionally hurtful comments, either about Thor, or about Alex, or both. They were also likely to do the same about you.

“Two weeks,” Thor mused, still enthusiastic about the prospect of meeting your family. “I think that gives me sufficient time to build a place for them to stay.”

It was lovely that he was excited by the prospect, but you groaned internally. Something told you that Thor was not going to have time for much if the vote went the way you thought it would.

“I’ll tell them we can accommodate them somewhere,” you said, firing off a quick email. “Now, let’s forget about this and focus on the task at hand. Brunnhilde wanted us there no later than two, that only gives us an hour.”

***

At 2:10 you arrived at the mead hall, Thor in his full regalia, you in the dress he’d gifted you for the May Day feast. Geri and Freki loping along behind you. You went to add the one remaining cake to the long table of food, while Brunnhilde intercepted Thor.

“Is everything alright, after this morning?” she asked him.

“Yes, I think so. Y/N is strong, although her family have elected to visit. That seems to have shaken her,” Thor sighed.

“It must be hard to face someone you thought was dead, even if you love them, once you’ve been through the grieving process,” Brunnhilde noted.

“It is.” Thor knows it’s hard, he went through it enough times with Loki, but he’d do anything to have his brother back. Or his mother, father.

There are flowers everywhere. Bouquets on tables, bunting hanging from the rafters, and people everywhere with flower crowns on their heads. Thor’s pleased with how well they’ve turned out. He makes a note to thank everyone involved, as well as to the plants for blooming so abundantly for him. There was something very satisfying about growing things and tending to them, becoming one with nature.

He’s not surprised when you return with a flower crown, plus one each around the dog’s necks. He doesn’t think they’ll last long, which is why he’d made sure to cultivate flowers that wouldn’t make the dogs sick when they inevitably tried to eat them. Thor particularly likes how you look with your flower crown. He’s seen you wear one before, of course, but they really do suit you. He hopes that if he has to be king, then perhaps one day you’ll wear a different kind of crown.

“Hello, Brunnhilde. Apologies for our lateness. I didn’t grab a crown for you but if Thor doesn’t want this one, I’m sure you can have it,” you offered, holding out the wreath.

“That’s quite alright, I’m not really one for crowns,” Valkyrie answered with a small shake of her head. “I’ll leave you two to mingle, just don’t be late for the vote announcement.”

“We won’t,” Thor assured her, knowing full well that they won’t start without him. “I fear this may not be the only crown I accept today,” he continues, taking the flowers from you and placing them on his head.

“I’m sorry,” you said, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ll support you, no matter the outcome.”

Thor knows this, and he’s glad of it. He’s still not comfortable with being in charge, quite content with his life, building things, tending to the plants, and playing with his animals. But at least he doesn’t have to do it alone. After Loki died, he was so very alone. Korg and Miek were great, but there was something missing in his life, a much closer form of companionship that he’d finally found again.

“Let us mingle, I’m sure there are many children who will be glad to pet the dogs,” Thor said, looping his arm with yours at the elbow.

*** By the time it gets to the hour of the announcement, Geri and Freki have had their bellies rubbed by seemingly every child in New Asgard, much to their delight.

A little boy had brought you a small posy of flowers, and was extra pleased when Thor held him in his strong arms and let the child place the flowers in Thor’s beard. It’s very haphazard, and a little one-sided but Thor’s pleased with the end result, when you show him in your pocket mirror.

It makes him ache desperately to have a child - well, children - of his own. He thinks about what kind of uncle Loki would’ve been.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have stabbed them.

It’s too hot in the mead hall. Thor’s been trying to drink slowly, aware that he’s drinking out of nerves more than anything.

Dutch courage, you’d called it. Allegedly, Dutch soldiers had drunk jenever before going into battle. Thor considered that a little risky. Drinking was best done after battle, being clumsy while handling a weapon didn’t strike him as the best strategy. Then again, it seemed to work fine for Brunnhilde. It didn’t really happen to him, but supposed many people got nervous before a fight.

Thor knew you had a Dutch friend, a teacher. He wondered if they might bring jenever with them if they ever came to visit?

Bruce came over, crowds of Asgardians parting easily for his bulky frame.

“Hey buddy,” he said, hugging Thor. “Are you ready?”

“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” Thor answered. A few years ago, he’d thought he was ready. Had almost been crowned king.

He never thanked Loki for royally screwing that up. It was only now, with hindsight, that he could appreciate the favour his brother had inadvertently done him.

“It’s time,” Bruce told Thor, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Thor looks back at you, but you shake your head. This is an Asgardian matter. Your place is at the back with Geri and Freki, not onstage with Asgard’s elite.

“Do you know?” Thor asked Bruce, desperately.

“No Thor. Even if I did, I couldn’t tell you,” Bruce noted. “Whatever happens, you have people that care about you. It won’t be like it was before.”

Thor joins Valkyrie, Sif and several others onstage. Bruce waves his hands, dampening down the crowd that buzzes like a hornet’s nest. Despite all the assurances, this is still a volatile situation and Bruce says a silent prayer that everything works out for the best.

“Thank you all,” Bruce addressed the crowd. “Thank you for trusting in the process and for allowing us, as outside observers, to count all of your votes. No system will be perfect, but we hope that you will all respect the outcome, whatever it may be. It took three rounds of voting for an option to gain over 50% of the vote. I’ll now hand over to Captain America, who has the results.”

Bruce steps down, stands to the right hand side of the stage as Sam steps forward. Anticipation builds around the room, like static during a storm. Sif holds hands with both Thor and Valkyrie, holding in a breath as she waits to see which of the people she cares about most will draw the short straw of heading Asgard.

She fervently hopes that the people will have chosen another option, but she doubts it. Most Asgardians fell on one side of the divide or the other - traditionalists who wanted to continue the existing royal family, and those who felt that Brunnhilde was the best leader amongst those left.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Sam said, grateful that someone the Asgardians were familiar with had addressed them first. “The result is very close, but let me assure you, it is accurate. We counted every single ballot ten times, just to ensure there was no discrepancy. With 50.8% of the vote, the people of Asgard have chosen the option of an octarchy.”

The room erupted with people cheering, complaining, or otherwise chatting with people about what it all meant. Sam waited for the commotion to die down before continuing.”

“Furthermore, the proposed solution, as outlined within the election materials is that Thor, son of Odin.” Sam paused, Thor’s full title sounding odd coming out of his mouth, but that was what the piece of paper he was holding said. “Thor, son of Odin, shall rule as king, and head of state.”

Thor paled visibly and your heart went out to him, glad that Sif was holding his hand.

“Succession will be a matter of blood, as it has always been, unless Thor shall have no issue. In that event, the people of Asgard will once again convene to decide how they wish to be governed. Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall serve as his second in command. She will rule in his absence or if he is incapacitated, if Thor does not have an heir of legal age.”

Sam shook his head. He shouldn’t have let Bucky write the speech, he should’ve known his metal-armed partner would try to stitch him up with flowery Asgardian language. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky smirking, standing next to Bruce. Sam makes a mental note to put on his suit later, pick Bucky up, and drop him in the North Sea.

“The other six members of the council will be chosen as follows. Thor, son of Odin, and Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall each choose one. Two more shall be elected by the people of Asgard. The final two shall be selected at random in a lottery of all citizens who have come of age. These positions shall be reviewed every ten years, unless circumstances, or the will of the people dictate otherwise.”

The place descends into chaos, even the dogs start barking at all the noise, and it only stops when the valkyrie gets to the front of the stage and lets out an ear-piercing screech. Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at her, wincing.

“Settle down everyone, settle down,” she shouted. “I respect this result, just as I said I would, and I pledge to serve both Asgard and its king to the best of my ability, as long as I am able to do so. I would like to thank you for your trust and patience during the time in which I served as Asgard’s caretaker. I know that not all of you were happy with the situation, but I hope I served you well. There is one among us, who I would like to nominate for inclusion on the council. However, I am aware that some of you may feel it is a conflict of interests. As many of you are aware, the Lady Sif and I are in love. She is my nomination if you will accept her.”

Raucous applause erupts. Sif is well liked, and most people are pleased to have her helping to steer Asgard’s course, even if she’s a little too eager to head into battle at times.

“Very well, I thank you all for your trust,” the valkyrie continued. “While I have the floor, there is one more thing I wish to do. I was going to do it later, but I think now is best, to declare my love in front of all those I serve.”

This time it’s Sif’s turn to go pale, as the Valkyrie sinks to her knees, turning back to Sif.

“Lady Sif,” Brunnhilde began. “I have lived long and travelled far, and there is no beauty that can compare to yours. Your love shines brighter than any star, and I am a better person for you sharing it with me. I have no title or riches to give you. This is but a small trinket, for I have already given you the greatest gift I have to give, which is my heart. I would be honoured if you would accept this ring as a token of my love, as is the custom on much of Midgard, and agree to be my wife.”

Sif is openly sobbing, and Thor’s not sure he’s ever seen her cry before. Scores more around the room wipe away tears as Sif slowly moves forward, allowing the Valkyrie to slip the ring onto her finger. Once it’s in place, Sif takes Brunnhilde’s hands and pulls her up, embracing her tightly and kissing her fiercely to a chorus of cheers.

It’s a wonderful sight, and you’re glad that there’s something for Asgard to celebrate, even if the vote didn’t go everyone’s way. Your throat goes dry as Thor nervously makes his way to the front of the stage to speak.

“Hello everyone. Apologies if I seem nervous, it has been many years since I last addressed so many,” he said, fiddling with the hem of his cloak. It’s far too hot to be wearing it, but he’d insisted that this was an important occasion and that he should dress accordingly.

“My congratulations to the Lady Sif and the Lady Brunnhilde. Theirs is an excellent union, and I wish them an eternity of happiness together.”

Thor waits until the cheering dies down before continuing.

“I, too, respect and honour the results of this vote. No man can outrun his destiny, and it seems mine will always be to rule Asgard as its king, even though I feel ill-equipped to do so. Fate apparently wills it so. I have not led Asgard well these last few years, and I apologise for that from the bottom of my heart. I have been remiss in my duties. I know that some of you do not trust that I have changed, but I give you my solemn word that I have. That I will act for the good of Asgard, and the other eight realms, as long as there is life in my breast.”

The entire room draws a collective gasp as Thor sinks to one knee. Panic sets in. This can’t be happening. Surely he’s not about to propose as well?

“I kneel before you, as your humble servant,” Thor continued, and you sighed in relief. “Too long, the people of Asgard have knelt before the throne. No more. I kneel before you all, and ask for your forgiveness. I am not the man I was, but I hope with time, that I will become someone better, someone worthy of the position that I find myself in.

“Asgard is not a place, it is a people. My father told me that, and I see now how true it is. I thank each and every one of you for trusting and believing in Asgard, in each other, when I did not trust or believe in myself. Together, you have created something strong and beautiful. I thank you for sharing it with me. You have rebuilt, you have shown incredible strength and fortitude.

“I am sorry for abandoning you. It is the most dishonourable and cowardly thing I have ever done. I asked the Valkyrie to rule in my stead, because I felt she was the best person for the job. I am truly sorry for abandoning Asgard in her hour of need. Thank you, all of you. Thank you for preserving our traditions and stories. Thank you for building a new home for us all. Thank you to everyone who has helped today. Baking delicacies, creating flower crowns, playing music. All that you do, on this day and every day, to ensure that we survive, that our culture survives, is appreciated by me.

“I hope to be able to thank you all individually, but please understand, it may take me some time. I kneel before you, as your king, humbled by the faith you still place in me. I shall work to rule as a king of the people, not above them. The throne should not be an untouchable pedestal on which I am put.

“Although I do not have a crown, I kneel before you, ready to serve Asgard, completely and unreservedly.”

“About your crown,” a voice called from the stunned crowd, as all eyes turned to look at Lorelei. She walked slowly through them, people parting for her, before she stopped in front of the stage, directly in front of Thor.

“When Hela attacked, many of us realised that Asgard was in peril. As we fled the city, some of us gathered up important artefacts. I apologise for keeping this from you, your majesty, but there never seemed to be an opportune moment…” she trailed off, reaching into a leather satchel, slung low against her hip.

Several people fainted, as with trembling hands, she pulled a crown from it.

“My-my father’s crown,” Thor mumbled, stunned.

“Yes, your majesty,” Lorelei explained. “I apologise again for keeping it secret, but you had already lost so much, I did not wish to remind you of your father. I have kept it safe, all these years. I believed that one day, you would be restored to the throne. I believed that day would be today.”

With trembling fingers, she reaches out the crown as Thor lowered his head. Tears were running down his face, into his beard, for everyone to see as he sat back up, slowly rising to his feet.

A collective sense of shock reverberated around the room, and you anxiously stroked your two dogs, who sat flanked you on either side.

“Thank you, good Lady Lorelei. This truly is an extraordinary gift. I thought I would never see this again, let alone wear it. I do wonder, now, what else was saved from Asgard, but that is a matter for another time,” Thor advised. “I have but one more matter to discuss, before it is time to feast. There is much to celebrate this day, and I hope it is one that will long be remembered.”

Thor paused, taking a moment to look around the hall. His friends, his people looking up at him. It filled him with a tiny spark of confidence that everything would work out fine this time, unlike when he had told Loki it would, all those years ago, after Asgard was destroyed.

“Like the Lady Brunnhilde, I too have someone I wish to nominate to the council. Like her, this person is one who is very dear to me,” he noted, looking across the heads of everyone to look you in the eye.

Thousands of heads turned to face you as you froze, wishing the ground would swallow you up.

“I wish to nominate the Lady Y/N. She has done so much for Asgard, though her time with us has been short so far,” Thor admitted. “As an outsider, I believe she has much knowledge and wisdom to offer us about Midgard, its people, and their customs. Her counsel is invaluable to me, and I would like to offer her a place at this table, if there are no objections.”

Deathly silence descends, everyone waiting for someone to say something.

“A wise appointment, your majesty,” Leifr spoke up, and a chorus of cheers echoed around the room.

“It is settled then,” Thor exclaimed happily. “The other four positions shall be determined in due time, but now I say it is time to eat, drink, and dance our fill. There is much to celebrate as we enter into a proud new chapter in Asgard’s history.”

Everything was a blur for several hours as you try to process exactly what’s happened. Thor being king again was something you expected, and he seems to be taking it well. His speech was genuinely moving and you could see many Asgardians visibly softening to him as he spoke.

But appointing you to be one of Asgard’s eight rulers?

No. No no no. This could not be happening. You didn’t belong here, didn’t want that kind of responsibility.

Judging by the way people keep congratulating you, it definitely is happening. You barely have an appetite, pushing your food around, eating small amounts whenever Thor prompts you to try this dish or that.

It had been a productive few hours for the other three newly instated rulers. Between them, they’d managed to hash out a plan for getting the other council members appointed. They’d even found time to draft a press release with Pepper, covering the events of the day. The world media would be taken aback. New Asgard had never released any information before. Along with the details of the election, Pepper had made sure to note that the new rulers would be willing to engage with journalists going forward to ensure transparency about what the kingdom was doing, but that they would not interact with any outlet that did not respect Asgardian privacy or engaged in hurtful gossip about them.

Apparently, the prince of another country, and his wife, had done something similar a few years prior.

You sit completely zoned out, a zombie. Utterly alone while surrounded by people. Geri and Freki lie protectively at your feet, aware that something is wrong.

Even Thor can sense that something is amiss. You’re paying no attention to him eating increasingly absurd portions. He even mentioned that he was getting full and you just nodded politely, a slightly vacant smile plastered to your face. You didn’t even try to touch his stomach, where it sat pressed up against the table.

Eventually, Sam manages to make his way over, whispering in Thor’s ear. You’re dimly aware that they’re talking about you, by the way Thor keeps glancing nervously in your direction.

“Let us go for a walk,” he said, standing up and tugging at your elbow. “Young Sam said that you look like you could do with some fresh air.”

Moving on autopilot you follow him, Geri and Freki loping along behind you. He leads you down to the beach, the sun setting in the distance as Thor gently maneuvers you into sitting down on a driftwood log.

“Are you quite alright?” Thor asked, running his fingers up your bare arms as he crouched awkwardly in front of you. “You seem distant, distracted.”

“This is all just very overwhelming,” you said, looking at your hands where they rested in your lap.

“I agree, much has happened today. We can return home, if you wish?”

“Why did you appoint me to the council?” you whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t know if I’ll still be here in ten years. What if we split up? I don’t belong here, I’m not Asgardian. I don’t want this responsibility, I’m not qualified, I don’t want to do this.”

Thor’s heart sank and he let out a sad sigh, finally sitting on the soft sand, his hefty stomach making it hard to keep his balance while he crouched. He’d done it again. He’d thought only of what he wanted and hadn’t consulted you. He’d upset you, ruining your evening.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tipping your chin up to make you look at him. “That was thoughtless and selfish of me, I should have consulted you before announcing my plan. Today has been trying for you, and you were already anxious and upset. I’m truly sorry for burdening you further.”

“I know you didn’t mean to Thor, but I’m so scared and sad.”

“Oh my love, no. I really am such an oaf,” Thor said sadly, pulling you into the small amount of lap he had left. If he kept on like this, he was going to really struggle to hold you like this soon.

He wants to kiss your lips, to kiss away all the hurt and worry he sees in your eyes, to kiss it better like his mother used to kiss his and Loki's scrapes and grazes. But he lets you bury your face in his shoulder. All he can do is cuddle you while you cry, chest heaving against his, while he rubs little circles onto your back, mumbling apologies all the while.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to upset you, to make you scared or anxious. I can see that I was mistaken, even though I only meant it as a good thing, as a compliment to your character and your intelligence. I truly know of no other in the whole of Asgard more capable than you, not even Brunnhilde,” Thor explained. “You are wise for one so young, and far more learned than any of us when it comes to this land we find ourselves in. Please, allow me to apologise unreservedly for the hurt I’ve caused. Allow me to make it right, allow me to pick another to serve in your place.”

You're so silent, shaking in his arms. It hurts Thor in a way he’s not felt since his father banished him. What if he's finally gone too far? What if this is the thing that pushes you away from him?

It scares him more than the thought of Thanos returning once more.

“A trial,” you said softly, as you raise your head.

“Pardon?” Thor asked.

“Until the end of the year, I will serve for a trial period. But if at the end of that time, I still don’t want to do it, then you must replace me, without any reservations.”

“Of course, of course. Are you absolutely sure?”

“No,” you admit. “But I am willing to try. I trust you. I trust you not to force me into anything I can’t handle. I’m humbled that you and your people have accepted me, and are prepared to give me this chance. I know it’s a great honour. So I will try to repay that trust that you have, I will try to serve Asgard, even if it doesn’t come easily to me.”

“No one who seeks power or has it come easily to them should ever be allowed to wield it,” Thor noted, rubbing his nose against yours. “Thank you, my love for agreeing to try this. I will honour your request should you change your mind at any point. I admit, I was scared that I had lost you, that my foolishness had driven you away.”

“You’ll have to do more than that to get rid of me,” you laughed wetly, wiping your face on the back of your hand.

“That’s good news, although I hope never to test that theory,” Thor told you, relieved. “Do you wish to return to the hall? I’m sure you could persuade me to have some more wine and sweet treats. As you can see, I am not quite at capacity,” Thor teased, moving your hands under his tunic to touch his taut tummy.

“I think I would like to head home. I’m emotionally exhausted and I just want to faceplant into your tummy and go to sleep.”

“Also an excellent plan,” Thor admitted, standing up with your still in his arms.

“I’m not too tired to walk,” you tried to insist, looking down at your bemused dogs as they trailed alongside the gentle giant carrying you.

“I know that, I just wanted to hold onto you some more.”

Thor’s going to be extra affectionate for the next little while, still reeling from the feeling of almost losing you. Now he finally has something to lose again, he’s resolutely determined not to let it happen.

@innerpaperexpertcloud @morganhoran1671

[noneatnonedotcom]

Wait. Am I The Winner? (sequel to wait are we the baddies)

this was all done useing dice rolls and is based off of a quest on space battles. everything you are about to read was random chance that i gave flavor to

Jaune base stats: 2.62 (limit break 4.19 stat difference=+60) Pyrrha base stats: 2.62

Shielding for jaune =2779 (alright so maybe a bit more than normal) armor 295 (a bit more manageable)

Shielding for pyrrha=253

Jaune rolls: 1d100+10 (two-handed weapon)

Pyrrha rolls: 1d100 Off hand 1d100+10 (sheild)

The third match between Pyrrha and jaune would take place in the vale arena, much like minstrel vale also prized it’s fighters though in recent years Pyrrha had taken much of the attention away from their more homegrown champions. But one man had changed that.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT’S TIME FOR THE MOMENT YOU’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!”

The roar of the crowd was defining, there was more than just blood on the line here. This was the two best of their generation one representing minstrel and the other vale. National pride was on the line and whether the fighters had been informed or not the losers country would be dealing with an influx of Grimm from all the negativity they’d be generating.

Minstrel couldn’t afford that. Not in its current state and so Pyrrha had no choice but to win.

But jaune couldn’t afford to lose either.

“IN THIS CORNER REPRESENTING THE KINGDOM OF VALE, MAY I PRESENT TO YOU THE COUNT OF PATCH, THE KNIGHT OF VALE, THE BIG BAD WOLF OF SIGNAL!”

The vale half of the audience went wild. But jaune’s ears picked out his girls easily, his aura enhanced senses cutting through the noise. To focus on them

That’s why he had to win, winning meant power, power could be used to gain whatever he wanted. And what he wanted was to make a better world for everyone. It was his duty as not only the last descendant of the royal line of vale.

“JAUNE ARRRRRRRRC!” But as jaune arc, lover and boyfriend to both ruby rose and yang xiao-long. So long as he was fighting for them he’d win.

He had to.

“AND IN THIS CORNER, REPRESENTING MINSTREL, THE INVINCIBLE GIRL! PYRRHA NIKKOS!”

Both fighters came out to the octagon armor on their bodies and weapons in hand.

Jaune carried eternal luminosity, a lance forged to act as a replacement weapon to crocea mors. It was a fine weapon, ruby had made it for him. Though in reality, it was more of a banner than anything else. The weapon folded out into a deployable banner woven with gravity dust. Useful when he wanted to make a statement and force others to kneel before him.

It had come up a few times in his fights against the organized crime of vale.

The real advantage was that it was highly visible. Making giving orders on a chaotic battlefield just that much easier.

The same was the case with his armor, custos solis. Made with yang in mind, and named accordingly. It was a vibrant set of armor, made up of golds, dark blues, and whites. It’s advantage so far had been that it hid his true power. His semblance having expanded his aura pool into the three-millions at this point. And there was still room to grow.

Without the armor, he’d seem utterly invincible and that’s the main reason why he wore it and compressed his aura as much as he physically could. It tricked the sensors at the very least. When he was ready he’d show the world his true power. But he needed just a little more time.

His third weapon lay on his hip, blackthorn, a sword forged of the purest hard light dust he could find. It wasn’t quite ready yet. He’d been told the purification of the metal had not been completed so it’s true power was diminished, never the less it was an exceptionally powerful tool. If somewhat costly in terms of aura usage. The thing would drain a normal person dry in a matter of seconds.

Jaune could use it all day and never get tired.

“AND NOW, WITH BOTH FIGHTERS READY LET’S SEE IT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE FIGHT OF THE CENTURY! LET THE FIGHT COMMENCE!”

Roll 1

Jaune: 64+10= 74 Pyrrha: 100 (Pyrrha came for fucking play!” +20=120

Jaune takes 46 damage

Jaune armor reduced to 249

She was on him immediately, her form perfect, her spear striking him from all over, though his armor took the brunt of the assault. He tried to fight back but she was like water bouncing on the balls of her feet jabbing him with her spear like a boxer.

He was sure that a normal fighter would be unable to mount a defense against her but jaune did mitigate the damage she was able to inflict with his own footwork, waiting for the opportunity to strike

Roll2 Jaune: 18+10=28 Pyrrha: 92 (get that weak shit outta here jaune, you’re fighting the champ!)

Jaune takes 64 damage

Armor= 185

She upped her game then, moving faster and fire in her eyes focusing into a single point, she was here to beat him, utterly. Perhaps to show him the power of friendship after their last fight, perhaps simply because her kingdom depended on her. It didn’t matter she had landed blow after blow, jaune needed to do something

Roll 3 Jaune: 94+10= 104 Pyrrha: 80 Offhand: 17+10

Pyrrha takes 24 damage

Shield reduced to 226

THERE!

Jaune saw an opportunity and for the first time since their last fight, the people of the world saw the invincible girl take a blow. Not a major one, but solid as her aura flashed to protect her. Under his helmet jaune sensed the aura she’d used, it was strong. Perhaps one of the stronger ones he’d ever felt. Even in comparison to qrow. But nothing more than a drop in the ocean to him

She was on him again in an instant

Roll 3

Jaune:18+10=28 Pyrrha:45 Jaune takes 17 damage Armor =168

Jaune becomes annoyed activates dust tattoos +20 to combat rolls

And she was somehow faster and stronger than before, gritting his teeth jaune pushed his aura into the dust based tattoos on his body, an unimaginable pain flowed through him but he pushed through using the extra power to thrust into Pyrrha

Roll 4

Jaune: 81+30= 111 Pyrrha: 42 Offhand: 69 (of course can’t have a jaune fight without this (._.) )+10= 79

Pyrrha takes 32 damage, jaune’s armor is removed for the rest of the fight due to 69 roll Pyrrha takes a -25 to rolls due to distraction

Pyrrha’s shielding= 194

The blow landed but to Pyrrha’s credit she managed to bring her shield against him as he hit her. The crowd went wild for some reason but jaune didn’t pay attention to them. Only to the red-faced Pyrrha in front of him. He went after her again”

Roll 5 Jaune:69 (WTF JAUNE!) +30=99 Pyrrha:93-25=68 Offhand: 90+10-25=75

Pyrrha takes 24 damage armor destroyed by the force of jaune’s blow. Jaune takes -20 from distraction, Pyrrha takes -10 from embarrassment

Pyrrha’s shield =170 She wasn’t ready for it for some reason and when the blow connected it hit one of the straps holding up her armor, jaune cursed his luck as the beautiful redhead was stripped naked before him only her boots and weapons to cover her. Trying to shake off the distraction jaune went after her again as the crowd went crazier!

Roll 6 Jaune:75+10= 85 Pyrrha:90-35= 55 Off hand:61-25= 36

Pyrrha takes 30 damage, pyrrha has had enough! Activates semblance +50 to rolls -50 to jaune’s rolls Pyrrha’s shield = 140

The blow struck well as the beautiful woman seemed more concerned with covering herself from the looks of the crowd than from his weapon. He felt bad, he really did but this was for the good of everyone. And she was a warrior she’d understand.

There was no gender on the battlefield

Apparently she agreed because she suddenly glowed with power moving faster than he could track while he felt somehow slower just by watching.

By this point, they were little more than blurs to most people and her nakedness was forgotten in favor of raw aggression!

Roll 7

Jaune:30-40=-10 Pyrrha:74+15=89 Jaune takes 99 damage Jaune’s sheild=2680

A blow that would fell lesser men slammed into him. His eyes unfocused as the flash of his own aura blinded him. He had no time to react to the now greater pain coursing through his body from both inside and outside as she rained down blow after blow on him the crowd having grown silent with awe watching the two pinnacles of humanity battling it out in the arena

Roll 8 Jaune:85-40=45 pyrrha:75+15=90

Jaune takes 45 damage

Jaune’s sheild= 2635

More and more blows hammered into him and he was being pushed back even if he was finally starting to get his guard up it wasn’t enough, he wasn’t enough to fight this goddess on the battlefield

.Roll 9 Jaune:14-40=-26 pyrrha:41+15=56

Jaune takes 82 damage

Jaune’s shield= 2553

Jaune’s angry activates limit break +60 to rolls stat difference

Was this the end? No one could doubt his power as blows that shook the stadium hammered into him both combatants were beyond human, the crowd could see it but for all of jaune’s raw power, it was no match for the skill of the invincible girl. Even so, they felt honored to be able to see this fight. Neither had ever been pushed this far before and even veteran huntsmen were shocked at the levels of power on display.

Jaune’s eyes snapped open, the wolf of signal, that animalistic part of his brain that couldn’t accept defeat that kept going no matter what the cost to himself, equal parts pride and protectiveness. genius, and stupidity.

That’s what looked at Pyrrha when those deep blue eyes opened. And Pyrrha felt small for a moment, the entire world felt small looking at the unrestrained power coming from the boy

This was the apex hunter, the thing that even the Grimm learned to fear.

This was the big bad wolf of signal and he howled his rage as he rushed her his lance thrown aside in the madness his pain brought on. His fist flying for her head

Roll 10

Jaune:1+20=21 (alright not the best way to show off your next to final powerup) Pyrrha:25+15=40

Jaune takes 19 damage

Jaune’s shield =2534

Jaune throws away his lance, draws blackthorn +25 to rolls

Mussels tore as fast as they healed as jaune no longer limited himself by how much pain he was willing to endure and the force from his punch cratered the ground where pyrrha was but a second ago.

Ultimate power vs ultimate skill

The invincible girl vs the apex predator

For a moment skill seemed to win out as she danced around the raging monster his wild swings destroying the arena as he missed. Inching closer and closer to his prey mindless of the damage and pain he was inflicting on himself, his mad howls echoing in the now stunned silent arena

And then she landed and blow

One big enough to snap jaune back to himself and for a moment he simply stood there, his mussels twitching finally aware that Pyrrha had stripped him as well at some point.

The pinnacles of humanity stared each other down nothing between them, perfection for the world to see. The audience held their breath and

Jaune started to laugh

He laughed and laughed seemingly amused at the situation

“Alright Pyrrha, I admit it, you’re more skilled then I think I’ll ever be, you’ve done it you’ve mastered yourself to a point beyond human limits.” he stalked forward and something about the confidence in him made the women (and some men) swoon at the sight.

“You’ve earned a reward,” he said as he picked up the sword that had fallen off him earlier in the fight “something that I’ve never had to do for anyone else, of course, you’ve already seen more of me than I’ve shown to anyone other than my girlfriends so that question is what to show you now,” he said with a wink and a smirk

His eyes grew dark as his sword glowed with golden beauty. A smile like the bared teeth of a predator shown almost as brightly

“Let me show you what true power looks like!”

And they were on each other again. Perfection in motion as far as the audience was concerned. A golden blade fought against the invincible girl and eventually there was only flashes of color as they danced around the arena until finally

The two stopped fighting mid-swing as the alarm signaling the aura of Pyrrha had dipped below 25%

Could she have won if this were a real battle? perhaps, perhaps not. All that could be said in this moment was that the battle was over. Jaune calmly re-sheathed his sword and picked up his lance. The two combatants shook hands both smiling though jaune’s seemed more a smirk

And then they walked out leaving the stunned audience to collect themselves.

It was five minutes before anyone had the presence of mind to cheer

It would be two hours till they stopped.

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In the back room Pyrrha smiled as she listened to her friends gush about the fight, yes it truly was something she supposed. The main difference between jaune and her was the amount of aura they could bring to bear, she would have to look into being more efficient in the future. But later, she wanted to spend time with her friends.

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In the back room jaune coughed up blood as his abused body and soul finally gave in, he struggled not to cry in pain as it felt like his body was being ripped apart from the inside. There was a price for power, always. He could reach levels of strength that none could match but it didn’t mean he could survive using those powers. His anguish was lessened as ruby placed his head in her lap and yang gently rubbed his back

He passed out shortly after.

He wouldn’t wake up for a week.

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The world was shocked in the wake of their fight, overnight jaune and Pyrrha became legends. The fact that they accidentally stripped each other was morphed in the minds of all the watchers to be the fact that both fought with only their weapons and souls. That they had no added advantages or disadvantages. It was pure combat.

Something that came to be common later on as fighters sought to emulate them. Fighting naked against your opponent became a way of declaring your own power.

Jaune’s tattoos became something to emulate as well though obviously no one made their out of dust, the process was immensely painful after all. The world was divided on who was more impressive, jaune, or Pyrrha.

For his part jaune spent most of his time doing paperwork recuperating and spending time with his girls. There would be time to capitalize on his newfound popularity to advance his political career. But later. For now, jaune lay in a field of flowers watching his sister, yang and ruby play with Zwei

Life was good

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Ozpin subtly played with a knight piece as he studied the board, as well as a queen. The arcs were descendants of the bastards of the royal line of vale. The very same line he’d thought he’d ended with his life as the last king of vale during the great war.

He was powerful and would be a key to winning the war, as would Pyrrha

The only question was who’s piece was he?

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here’s the next chapter of accidental villain jaune, based off of the dice rolling system for a quest on space battles. it was all random chance and i think i did pretty good with what the dice gave me. what do you think?

[unchartedterritoria]

A Scathingly Brilliant Idea, Not So Much (Sam Drake x Reader)

I cannot believe I never published this one shot here! I put up the AO3 link but never the story itself, so, here you go guys!

Description:  You and your friend Jenn spend time scoping out your hot neighbor Sam Drake. What happens when you add 3 bottles of wine? This is just a piece of fluff that was rolling in the head that I had to get out. Not my best work but it was fun to think about.

Rated T for language

“Oh my god, you’ve got to see this!”

You went over to your friend Jenn's house to unwind and unload about your morning. You were expecting a couple of glasses of wine and maybe some bad TV. Now, she was dragging you through her house onto the balcony on the second floor.

“What?” You question her as you approach the balcony doors.

"I have a new hobby," She says with a rueful smile and opens the doors dramatically. Her balcony was a decent size, big enough for two solid Adirondack chairs and small table which, at the moment, held two glasses of ice and a pitcher of bright red sangria.

“Day drinking is not new, Jenn,” You tell her, still thankful there is booze to be found.

    “Sit down and look to your right,” She says, pouring large glasses from the pitcher for the both of you. Putting your purse down with a sigh, you plop down in the chair and take a look. Jenn’s balcony overlooks her neighbors' backyard. The house was a fixer-upper and had been on the market a while, but your friend had told you someone had moved in two weeks ago.

"Whoa," You utter, finally getting a good look at her new neighbor, who was outside mowing the lawn in his backyard. He was older than both of you, probably in his late 40s, maybe early 50's if you had to guess. His dark brown hair was receding, showing off a prominent forehead and nose. He was wearing a dark pair of jeans and an open Hawaiian shirt over a white tank top and filled out everything just right.

    “Oh trust me,” Jenn says as she roots around behind her chair, “It just gets better,” Finally finding what she was looking for, she hands you a pair of binoculars.

"Are you serious?! He's gonna see us!" You protest, your face turning a little red, the thought of spying on a hot guy like a couple of teenagers.

"Trust me. He can't see us past the railing. Just look at him!" Jenn says, pointing towards him.

    Oh, what the hell. You hold the binoculars up and see exactly what she is making a big fuss about. He had to be almost six and a half feet of taught, lean muscle, pushing a lawn mower across the yard. His forearms were solid and muscular. His eyes were hidden behind aviator sunglasses, but you could make out a tattoo on his neck below a chiseled, beard stubbled jaw. As he stops suddenly, you tense up. Crap, he must have seen you. Instead, he takes off his Hawaiian shirt and throws it on the stoop of his back porch. Your jaw drops open. His arms are sculpted, the kind that comes from actual work instead of working out, and his shoulders are broad. You can see another tattoo on the curve of his left arm. His whole torso was covered in sweat, the back of his tank top damp on his lower back just above what could only be called a fantastic ass in a pair of jeans.

    “Oh my god,” You groan and slump back in your chair as Jenn grabs the binoculars eagerly out of your hands to get a glimpse for herself. You watch as he methodically walks the mower up and down the yard, his arms, his legs, the fluidity of his body and its movements.

    “Who is he?” You ask, taking a couple of gulps of your drink to cool you down.

    “Not a clue but lucky for us, he sure loves his yard work!” Jenn says giggling.

THREE WEEKS LATER

"I have a scathingly brilliant idea!" Jenn says to you, pouring the last of the bottle of wine into her glass as the two of you stand in the kitchen. It was the third bottle the two of you had polished off that night and both you had a good buzz going.

"What?" You ask cautiously. Jenn's ‘scathingly brilliant ideas' tended to always end up more on the severe end of the spectrum and less on the brilliant end.

    “C’mon! Let’s go spy on the hot neighbor!” She whispers loudly, chugs the rest of her wine and heads out of the kitchen cackling wildly. Knowing you’ll need it, you drain the rest of your glass quickly and go after Jenn.

    “Why aren’t we going upstairs?” You ask her as you follow her out the front door instead of up the stairs. In the dark, Jenn runs around the fence that separates her yard from the neighbors and into the bushes under the back windows. You duck into the shrubbery next to her, twigs and sticks poking you as you hide.

    “Are you out of your mind? You’re gonna get caught! We’re gonna get caught!” You say in a harsh whisper.

    “I wanna see him naked!” Jenn whispers, giggling, obviously more drunk than you are. She starts to stand up and grab the ledge of the windowsill.

    Pulling her down by the waist, you get her back into the shadow of the bushes. “No! Jenn! He’s gonna see you!”

    “I bet he’s huge,” She whispers emphatically before going for the window again to get a look inside. Suddenly, from inside the house, comes the bark of what can only be a large dog causing your eyes to go wide and Jenn to drop from the ledge and land noisily on her butt against the side of the house.

    “When did he get a dog?” You ask in a furious whisper over the barking. Jenn shrugs when you hear the sliding glass door at the back of the house open and footfalls into the backyard.

"Hello?" A husky, male voice says. You duck down with Jenn as quietly as possible and slap a hand over her mouth.

    “Quiet Buddy!” He calls back into the house causing the dog to go silent. You manage to keep a drunk you and your drunk friend motionless. A few seconds pass. Please, please, please go back in the house, you think. Just when you think are home free, Jenn wrenches your hand off of her mouth and lets out a muffled belch.

    “I know you’re there and I’m tellin’ you right now, I got a gun,” He says, a little bit of an accent in his voice. You think it might be New York. Maybe Boston.

You stare in horror at Jenn. She shakes her head in doubt, causing the bush to move just enough to swing a few leaves.

    “Come. Out. Now. Last warning,” He commandingly cautions loudly. You look at Jenn. You know the gig is up, and you need to stand, but your feet are frozen in place, your knees locked in fear. A loud bang echoes and you feel a sudden, hot pain in your upper arm. Jenn takes off like a shot out of the bushes, shrieking, running past her house and fleeing down the road in horror like a babysitter in a bad slasher movie. You stumble out of the shrubs, knees wobbling. In the moonlight, you see a large dark patch forming on your shirt, right on top of the throbbing spot on your arm. You touch the spot, feeling the warm blood. The pieces slowly fall into place in your boozy brain, and for the first time, you look up. You see your friend's neighbor standing twenty feet away, lit by the warm lights inside of his house. Though you can't make out the details of his face, you can see a hard expression change to surprise. He almost looks like he recognizes you.

    “You shot me you fucker!” You yell at him as the world begins to go hazy.

    “Oh shit,” You hear him say as you feel yourself falling back, the world going black as you faint, not even feeling yourself land.

    You open your eyes slowly and squint against the brightness of the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. Your arm and your head are throbbing. With the sounds of bustling people and beeps and the smell of disinfectant and old people, it could only mean that you are in a hospital. Your eyes adjust as you find yourself in a curtained off little corner alcove of what you assume is the emergency room. Your friend is nowhere to be seen, but a tall, handsome man is leaning sideways against the wall, arms crossed in front of him.

Oh god, it’s the neighbor.

You look down sheepishly, thanking God that you aren't in a hospital gown. You still have on the green tank top that was under your sweater, which your pretty sure is now a bloody rag.

    “Hi there,” He says. Embarrassed, you raise your head to meet his eyes, vibrant hazel ones. You were right with the age range, the lines, and wrinkles on his face giving him a rugged, weathered look. The tattoo that you had spotted on his neck was barely visible over the edge of the collar of his shirt. With his arms crossed, the muscles in his biceps strained against the dark brown shirt on top of them. Lord, he's handsome, and I'm a fucking idiot, you think to yourself as you drop your gaze back down to the blanket across your lap.

    “Where’s Jenn?” You manage to mumble.

"Your partner in crime? She made it three blocks before I could catch her," He says, with a surprisingly complete lack of anger in his voice.

    “You shot me,” You say, looking at the bandage and sling around your arm, your friend completely forgotten.

    “I told you I was gonna shoot,” He admits, holding up his hands in defense.

    “Who shoots a gun in a suburb? That’s just wrong,” You grumble to yourself, trying to move your arm a bit.

"Stop that. You're gonna make it hurt more,"

    “Well, I’m sorry, I’ve never been shot before!”

He pulls a chair next to the upright head of your bed.

    “Ok, let’s start fresh. I’m Sam,” he says, offering his hand. You manage to introduce yourself and take his hand, giving it a quick shake. His hands are calloused and strong.

    “So why were you guys in my bushes?” He asks in an amused tone.

    “Um, Uh…well. Huh,” You stall, trying to think of some viable excuse, any viable excuse at this point.

    “View from the balcony wasn’t good enough anymore?” He offers with a cocky grin. Your mouth falls open in disbelief.

Oh no, he can't see us! You think in Jenn's voice. Yeah, uh huh, sure. Fuck you, Jenn.

    “You saw us?”

    “Yeah.”

    “The whole time?”

    “Yup.”

    “Even the binoculars?” You cringe as you wait for the answer.

    “Sure did. I really liked the time I was out choppin' wood, and you guys had your little scorecards with the numbers you were holdin’ up to each other. I thought that was funnier than hell,” Sam answers, causing you to wince in embarrassment.

The curtain opens, and the attending comes in and asks Sam to step out, giving you a once-over before handing you your discharge papers.

    “Um, are the cops going to come in or are they waiting for me outside?” You ask as you shove the papers in your back pocket. Hiding in a stranger's bushes and being shot just had to be something a person gets arrested for.

"Mr. Drake has agreed not to press charges for trespassing. Consider yourself lucky ma'am," The doctor says condescendingly before turning on his heel and stalking back to the ER.

    “Lucky? I’m the one who got shot!” You say to yourself. You hear a chuckle as Sam pulls the curtain aside.

    “You’re finding this pretty amusing,” You scowl at him.

    “I really am,” He says smiling. God, even his smile is handsome. Well, I’ve got no chance with him now. He thinks, no. He knows I’m a peeping Tom.

    “You’re not pressing charges?”

    “No. Well, on one condition.”

    “Community service? Manual labor?” You question and wait for your inevitable punishment.

    “Dinner.”

    Confused, you ask, “You want me to cook you dinner?”

"That'd be alright, but I was thinkin’ more along the lines of taking you out to dinner.”

"Excuse me?" You ask, wondering if you hit your head, and you were hearing things because this was sounding like a date to your screwy brain.

    “Honestly, I’d been meaning come over and introduce myself to you, but I kept missin' the opportunity," Sam admitted.

    “Oh,” Your brain trying to process this. “So, let me get this straight, you shot me, and you want me to go to dinner with you?”

    “Yeah, I do.”

    “You shot me.” You reiterate.

    “I can call the cops instead. Not sure what trespassing charges are these days, probably just some fines. Maybe a night in jail,” Sam says jokingly as he pretends to reach for his cellphone.

"7:30 tomorrow night work for you?" You say quickly. He gives you a chuckle and that sweet damn smile, and you know this is gonna be one hell of a story to tell someday.

[pangtasias-atelier]

May I request, fat Sylvain, fat Caspar and fat Ashe requesting to Byleth to add Ignatz into their party #risque. Ignatz of course fight back but after being fed full by Byleth he is just as fat and submissive as the others.

All smut will be tagged #risque

Well, this ended up being a lot longer than I expected. And I still feel like it's mediocre lol. Also, wow my smut writing is like really far behind my fat writing (as if that's not already fat behind akdjsjsn)

But, I hope you like it!

______________

"By-" Hand raised in the air as he rushes, Ignatz' steps slow down as his hand slowly droops. Catching sight of Byleth, Ignatz was glad for a reunion after not seeing each other for so long after the war. Yet Byleth's abundant and rapid eating catches him off guard, his enthusiasm dying out. "leth…," Standing to the side, Ignatz stands up straight as Byleth spots him, motioning for him to join him.

Taking a seat, Ignatz immediately blubbers at the ridiculously generous plate of food getting handed to him by the staff.

"Tch uh, Dy," Stammering, Ignatz takes a quick breath. "Do you always eat this much?" Eyes widening at his own question, Ignatz blushes, ready to issue an apology.

"Yeah," Patting his stomach, Byleth's hand meets nothing, his lithe figure the same as always.

"Y-you do?" Visibly perking, Ignatz leans over in his chair, staring at Byleth.

"Need energy to think. It's the same idea as artists," Byleth shrugs. Noticing the way Ignatz nods his head and tries to be discrete as he glances at his own plate, Byleth stretches, hiding his smirk.

Soon afterwards, Byleth nods and follows along to Ignatz conversation, his eyes never leaving Ignatz plate and how he pecks at it, Ignatz forcing himself to finish it.

After dinner, Byleth retires to his room, glad for a day of respite. Upon entering, he's greeted by the sight of Sylvain sitting on the floor right in front of the door. Naked, his stomach pools to the floor around him, his ass jutting from behind. A dollop of whip cream on each nipple, Sylvain struggles to put both arms behind his head.

Ashe and Caspar sitting at the table instead, they wear boxers at the very least. Ashe keeps his head down, absolutely red, while Caspar stares at the can of whip cream on the table.

Closing the door behind him, Byleth motions for Ashe to throw him the whip cream.

"How'd it go with Ignatz?" Ashe questions as he tosses the can.

"Perfect," Byleth grins. Hand raking through Sylvain's hair, he pushes down on him, shoving him to the floor on his back. Sitting on his stomach, Byleth presses the can to Sylvain's mouth, pressing the nozzle. Whip cream filling Sylvain's mouth, he flails his arms, his whole body swaying like a ship.

"Did you convince him yet?" Caspar asks as he stands up, waddling towards Byleth, his thighs rubbing against one another.

"Breathe through your nose," Covering Sylvain's whole face in whip cream, Byleth licks his teeth. Standing up, Byleth goes to Caspar, placing both hands on the underside of his stomach. "It'll take more than a day," Wobbling Caspar's stomach, Byleth gives his ass a smack.

Byleth making his way to Ashe, he shakes his breasts instead, Ashe keeping his hands to himself as he blushes.

Sylvain heaving, his gut quivers above him, rising and falling with each breath. "Ignatz is here?" Letting out a huff of air, he groans.

"Yes, so you're going to have to keep it in your pants until then," Byleth smiles as Sylvain already loses his composure.

Sylvain wobbles back and forth, reaching enough momentum to get on his stomach. Shakily getting on his hands and knees, Sylvain sighs as he stands up.

"So they both knew about this?" Sylvain pointing at Caspar and Ashe, his wing of an arm sags.

"Yes, and they agreed to having Ignatz join us,"

"Well, the more the merrier," Sylvain grins as he rubs his stomach. "But your rule sucks," He whines.

Ashe nods his head, blushing.

"Yeah!" Caspar agrees.

"It's so that they get a good taste when they join," Byleth grins. Heading off to bed, he leaves them to their own whining. The sounds of Caspar's bed dangerously creaking as Sylvain and Caspar moan, Sylvain humping Caspar, makes going to bed all the more difficult, Byleth desperately struggling to not touch himself during the night.

The next day, Byleth finds Ignatz at his old spot of inspiration, nature all around him. Lugging a far too stuffed picnic basket, Byleth smiles as he greets Ignatz, Ignatz surprised.

Sitting down at setting up, he motions for Ignatz to join him, Ignatz obliging him. The blanket crammed with food all over it, Byleth makes sure to keep more of the fattier foods on Ignatz' side.

Sitting opposite from him, Byleth keeps an eye on Ignatz' stomach, the slow little bulge developing as he keeps offering more food to him.

Ignatz groaning, his eyes widen as Byleth places a hand on his stomach.

Blunt as always, Byleth nonchalantly brings a fork to Ignatz' mouth. "I bet you could fit more," Ignatz blushes, opening his mouth as Byleth feeds him a slice of cake.

The days going by, Byleth follows his routine: scout out Ignatz, feed him a bunch of food, and then pamper him.

Growing bolder, Byleth makes sure to keep it up. A rubbing soon strays further than Ignatz' rounded stomach, fingers pinching his inner thigh. An extra plate of food becomes two, even three plates of food. Ignatz' restrictive choking clothing becomes loose strained fabric as Byleth deftly unbuttons it.

Ignatz plumping up nicely, his skinny almost gauntly figure fills out with much needed heft. A slight yet noticeable overhang soon develops, Ignatz' full breasts pairing well with it as they sag. More pear shaped, Ignatz' thighs easily force him to waddle, his hefty ass wobbling behind him.

So shy, everything was done with a blush on his face, Ignatz ever so fearful of imaginary onlookers staring at him. Yet the only onlooker was Byleth, Ignatz too dense to realize it despite Byleth's on-hands self.

Soon, shyness fostered embarrassment, Ignatz dreadfully aware of each jostle and turn his roll riddled body would produce with each simple movement. With even less physical activity, Byleth was all too happy to watch Ignatz grow even wider.

The show of Ignatz' growth all too pleasurable, Byleth had to finally decide and reserve a front row seat.

Which transpired into the current event of Byleth waiting in his room. A letter sent to Ignatz to meet him in his room alone upon midnight, the clear implications along some choice words on Byleth's part led to him waiting on his bed. Sitting on the edge, both of his hands rest behind him and support him. Clad only in dark navy boxers, Byleth's toned slightly scarred body rests perfectly for his guest upon entering the room.

A knock and Ignatz' shy quiet voice sounding, Byleth tells him to enter, his posture straightening up while simultaneously relaxing.

"By-byleth!" Slamming the door behind him, Ignatz turns redder than a fire tome, his neck even turning the same vibrant shade. Clearing his throat, Ignatz keeps still, arms stuck to his side. "So bold," He mutters, bringing his arm to cover his mouth.

Ignatz' clothes too snug now for his width, his only form of fabric come in the form of a snug shirt and shorts, Byleth having given them to him awhile ago.

Byleth hops up, taking slow steps towards Ignatz. Ignatz stands still, forcing his eyes to remain on Byleth's face instead of wandering down.

Draping himself over Ignatz from the side, Byleth hugs him, his hands drifting across Ignatz' bulging middle. "I brought you some more food," He declares, his voice only raising slightly.

"I'm still full from dinner…" Ignatz whines, shuffling under Byleth's intense gaze.

"I can take care of that," Grabbing both of Ignatz' hands, Byleth leads him to the bed, purposefully taking long strides, Ignatz stumbling behind him. Pushing Ignatz down, Byleth leans over him, his hair hanging as he peers down at him.

Ignatz' eyes looking left and right, Byleth grins. Placing both hands on the rim of his shirt, he slowly lifts it up. Ignatz obliging, he lifts his arms up.

"So obedient," Byleth coos, tossing the shirt aside. Placing both hands on Ignatz' stomach, he presses down. Lifting them, he rakes his fingertips across Ignatz' stomach as they wander upward. His hands reaching Ignatz' plush breasts, they wrap around his nipples.

Ignatz squirming under him, Byleth goes forward, pinching them. Ignatz takes a sharp breath, biting his lower lip.

"Don't worry, no one will interrupt us," Ignatz' severe attempts at silence stir Byleth, his flacid dick chubbing up.

"But-" Byleth giving a slight twist to his right nipple, Ignatz lets out a huff, a dribble of drool spilling out from the side of his mouth.

"Is this your first time?" Byleth abruptly asks, getting off of Ignatz, sitting on his knees on the bed.

"Y-yes," Ignatz admits. "I'm sorry, I'm-"

"It's okay," Crawling back on top of Ignatz, Byleth sinks into his stomach. "Just roll over for me," Blushing, Ignatz takes a second to do so. His fat jostles and turns as he struggles to do so. "If you ever want me to stop, tell me," Byleth adds, voice serious.

Licking his lips as Ignatz' ass stares right back at him, Byleth immediately goes to work in removing both of their shorts. Ignatz occasionally shifting under him, his dimpled ass quivers.

Positioning himself, Byleth grins at his handiwork, Ignatz triple the width he used to be. Ignatz hefty enough, Byleth rests on Ignatz' back as he enters.

"You alright?" Ignatz nods his head into the pillow, gripping it.

Going slow, Byleth takes his time. Slowly thrusting, Byleth holds back his whine as Ignatz' cavernous ass envelops his dick. Ignatz' rolls quivering, Byleth huffs, his toes curling as he restrains himself from going loose, pent up. Continuing slow, Ignatz seems to burrow in the pillow, his muffled moans sounding out barely.

Picking up the pace a bit, Byleth's eyes widen as Ignatz speaks up.

"Faster," Ignatz moans. A couple seconds passing by, he adds a thrown out please.

"Of course," Grinning, Byleth speeds up. Letting himself loosen up, he digs his hands on Ignatz' ass, squeezing it. With leverage, he slides in and out, beginning to pound into Ignatz. Focusing, the sensation of someone new under him spurns him on, Byleth quickening. Reaching his own edge, Byleth shuts his eyes close. Groaning, Byleth clings to Ignatz' ass as he releases. Not moving, he huffs as his seed pours out. Waiting a bit, Byleth keeps his grip as he continues to cum, his sexual relief lasting a while after refraining from sex for so long.

Ignatz' ass leaking Byleth's cum, he reaches under for Ignatz' dick. Ignatz' dick becoming flaccid and his fatpad covered in cum, Byleth smirks at Ignatz having climaxed earlier.

Climbing off of Ignatz, Byleth lies down beside him and turns him over, Ignatz' face red and sweaty.

"You fine with cleaning up tomorrow?" Punctuating with a yawn, Byleth dopily grins at Ignatz.

"Y-yeah," Ignatz nods. Going to stand up, Byleth grabs him by the wrist.

"You can spend the night here," Turning Ignatz over, he easily spoons him despite the size difference. Yawning again, Byleth cuddles closer. "Just stay here in Garreg Mach," Resting, Byleth barely registers Ignatz' "Yes,".

Grinning, he pats Ignatz stomach, mind already formulating ideas as he goes to bed, Ignatz' warmth lulling him.

[nevergiveupneverrun]

Bodyguard - Chapter Forty-Five “Out of Body Experience”

Hello everybody, how are you? I’m so so sorry for not posting a chapter for a month but I was so busy with college and I didn’t have time. But now, I have two weeks break and I will post many chapters of this story. Here is chapter Forty-Five of my Story Bodyguard. I hope you will like this chapter.

I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

                           –––––––––––––––––––––––

“Your body will be your bulwark. But it can also lead you to your own loss.”

My head in my hands, sitting on the edge of my bed and staring at the floor, Nathan’s words echo in my head. 

Words he said when I told him I would leave the specials forces to convert me into a bodyguard. Words that have a bitter flavor for me right now… like a premonition… like a prediction that eventually comes true.

My body as a bulwark indeed, my shield, the protection that I represented for those for whom I worked.

But potentially also my loss, by forgetting my mission, by revealing my weakness: my simple condition as a man.

The man with his desires.

Man with his seconds of distraction, inattention, vulnerability.

When everything changes.

When the guard of the professional is lowered. 

My right-hand leaves my face and places on my leg, again covered with my pajama pants.

My eyes stay fixed on this hand.

On that part of me that started it all and was the first to give up.

- I’ll do better to find my room, she concludes with a quaver in her voice.

A voice that seems muted, devoid of hope and acts on me like an electric shock.

My right hand tightens on her thigh… preventing her from escaping.

To escape.

My fingers tighten slightly their grip against her skin going up against her waist, under my t-shirt, and the contact of cotton shorty is revealed under my skin.

Amelia’s head turns directly to me and her eyes express a deep surprise… and a hint of disbelief at my gesture.

But this image only appears to me for a few seconds, when the upper part of my body reacts in turn… without my reason having a say or expressing the slightest reservation.

As if the connections were blurred between my consciousness and my own body.

A spectatorial and helpless conscience facing a dominating body…

My face is actually close that of Amelia and my lips find hers and rekindle that sweet feeling that I had tasted before.

I detach myself after only a few seconds as if struck by the reality of what I had just initiated.

I observe, destabilized, the woman in front of me: her eyes shine in the dim light, but no longer a damp glow aroused by tears, but a scintillating reflection, dark but captivating. 

Hypnotizing.

Bewitching.

I remain paralyzed, suddenly not knowing what to do or how to react. 

But a contact quickly gets me out of this state.

Fingers soon slip in my neck and I feel a gentle pressure in my neck which leads me to lower my face again obediently…

My room is plunged in semi-darkness as the sun gleams pierce through the blind.

I close my eyes to refocus on the present moment.

I run my two hands against my eyelids, and I empty my mind for a few moments, detaching myself from this light announcing a new day… and the difficult reality that I will have to face.

A rustle behind me captures my attention.

I turn and the reality I was trying to deny appears bluntly to me.

She is there…

In my bed, lying on her stomach.

The sheet covers her very slightly and reveals a car part of her bareback.

Her skin seems to attract the few rays of the sun that come into the room: she sparkles almost a few inches from me.

Her hair is untidy and hides part of her face, while her left hand is stretched out towards the place I occupied a few minutes before as if she was looking for me… even in her sleep.

I look away, this image is difficult to accept, almost harder than memories… until I hear a weak sigh behind me…

A sigh of contentment rises in the room.

Intense heat and incomparable softness vibrate under my fingers.

My hand minutely explore the unknown but coveted territory that is finally within my reach: the silhouette of this woman, lying in my bed, a willing prisoner In my arms.

My lips have become one with hers for several minutes, until the urge to taste more is too strong and my tongue becomes insistent, making its way to discover hers and to fight sensually.

An indeterminate sound escapes from me and I find it hard to realize that I am the author… so much it is strangled to me… almost animal, but it intensifies under a caress that draws my neck, a caress that makes me boil from the inside.

My lips break away from hers, but don’t break their connection with her skin: my lips slide on her right cheek, then descend gently into her neck while I perceive her head to rise a little more as if to facilitate acmes and fully offer her neck to my kisses. My face plunges into her neck while my lips discover these new inches of skin that literally seem to vibrate under my kisses. My impression is reinforced by a long sight of pleasure that suddenly resonates very close to my right ear: my body reacts immediately and an intense heat spreads throughout my being until it reaches that part of me that has been dormant for long months… a part of me that wakes up completely under the effect of a hoarse and almost electrifying whisper.

- Owen…

My pulse is accelerating and I perceive my temperature going up a notch at the simple memory of these caresses and these moans of pleasure that I had caused.

I was completely spellbound and charmed a few hours ago by this sweet melody as if plunged into a parallel dimension. 

A dimension where I was just a man… a man abandoning himself with a woman who was, however… forbidden but so…special… and completely irresistible a few hours earlier.

I recognize a feeling of anger rising in me in front of my weakness, my distraction.

The temptation had been visibly too strong.

Stronger than me.

My eyes get lost in the room until a burst of light captures my attention, a burst of silver as a ray of sunshine falls on the metal handle of my wardrobe…

A silvery shine…

Her fingers run through my hair.

Her sighs ring out against my ears.

Her body vibrates under my hands.

She then suddenly comes off, cutting the connection that my lips preciously kept with her skin.

The light of her blue pupils sparkles more than ever. She almost dazzles me.

I observe her as her fingers are placed delicately on my t-shirt which she uses as pajamas.

She pulls it up and removes the tissue from her body, leaving her naked in front of me, except for her shorty.

My gaze is directly attracted not by her exposed chest, but by a slivery shine, that of the key to the chalet which sits between her breasts…the piece of metal catching the gleam of light coming from the half-open door.

My fingers rise directly to touch this object and draw it precisely.

A hand soon covers mine and I immediately find the gaze of Amelia who stares at me, with a slight smile on her lips.

A shy even embarrassed smile.

I feel her fingers tighten my hand around the key then shift our joined hands a few centimeters, to place them on her left breast.

Against her heart.

Do you feel? It’s not bleeding anymore, she whispers, bringing her face closer to mine. Thanks to you…

I indeed perceive the beating of her heart under my hand: regular but strong against my fingers.

The coldness of the metal echoes under my skin in complete contrast to the heat that diffuses violently throughout my body, as I become fully aware of the image that stands out in front of me: Amelia, breast uncovered, look vibrant but slightly hesitant.

My hand suddenly wakes up and slides against her cheek, savoring the softness of her skin, while advancing her face a little more against mine.

A single word escapes me before I seal a kiss, marked by my heartbeat which synchronizes with hers.

- Gorgeous…

I get back on track with reality, chasing this moment from my mind. A particularly disturbing moment since I woke up… a moment of intimacy and tenderness like I had not experienced in a very long time.

My body is still hypersensitive as if inhabited by a new ardor that she would have been able to revive.

I lower my face again to the ground, watching the floor beneath my feet.

Observe, that’s what I did for much of that almost unreal night.

Unreal because I had lived everything in a second state, outside of myself, refusing a way out that had been unexpectedly offered to me.

Unreal because after the observation, I had completely changed my attitude: becoming an actor of events and even the initiator of what had happened.

The opposite of what my life has been for many years: a constant mastery, reserve, step back… and not the unconsciousness and spontaneity that had fully dominated me… surprising me myself… like during this interlude, only two hours ago…

My eyes blink slightly as I slowly regain consciousness after a few hours of sleep.

A movement then a presence is perceived against me.

- Hmm… what’s going on… I pronounce difficult, talking to myself.

- I’m a bit cold…

The thin voice that pierces the silence, takes me by surprise and I open my eyes.

I discover Amelia against me, pulling on the sheet which covers me perfectly but leaves her largely uncovered: my eyes are directly drawn to her breasts which she partly hides by sticking against me. I perceived the curved of her shapes marrying my side, this part of her body revealing to me this cold that she confesses… or would it be something else that provokes this reaction on this chest that I guess against me?

I become fully aware of this connection between us and I observe her for long seconds: I quickly feel a warmth become familiar again during this evening manifest.

An intense and violent desire overwhelms me.

Nothing left in my mind.

Just the touch and the softness of her skin against me.

Just pulsations and tremors.

And a body that vibrates for one thing.

And dictates my next action.

I lean towards her and steal her lips for a few seconds while sliding her under me.

I detach myself from her and she looks at me with an amused look.

- What are you doing? She breathes laughing.

I place a kiss on her neck while letting my hands caress her waist and find her thighs.

- I’m trying to warm you up, I whispered, smiling against her skin, my lips continuing their descend to her breasts.

I see her lefts shift, and I slide against her, while one of her legs goes up against me to keep me in this position. Encouraging me silently…

A position which clearly reveals to her the effect she can have on me in a few seconds… my intensely keen desire…

- You can surely warm me up a little more… she clarified with a smile.

And without hesitation, I react to her invitation and instantly connect us, by this intimate and unique link, marked by our mutual and simultaneous sighs…

What had taken me?

I’ve been obsessed with this question since I woke up just an hour ago.

The memory of that night leaves me with an oppressive impression.

The deepest misunderstanding takes hold of me: my attitude during these last hours seems to me so incredible in the proper sense of the term. I did not recognize myself, in this man who abandons himself thus to his most primary desires… desires which seem in the end much stronger than I suspected.

And the interlude which took place two hours ago is for me the most difficult to accept: because in this precise case, Amelia did not initiate anything, did not upset me by her distress.

She is in no way responsible for that.

I cause everything, triggered everything… blinded by the sensations and the waves of pleasure that flooded me… because too long repressed and channeled.

But I cannot deny reality or turn away from it.

I crossed the red line last night.

I made love to Amelia… several times.

Amelia who is none other than the woman I protect.

I made the most serious mistake of my entire career: spending the night with the woman who is none other than my client.

An unforgivable error.

Unrecoverable weakness.

But now what was I going to do?

How to manage the situation?

I could in no case maintain a relationship with her… because it was compromising my mission… but also quite simply because I was not able to bring her what she was looking for: I’m too tortured, unable to give her the love she expects, and she deserves more than anything to find it. But not with me.

I still haven’t figured out the dilemma I’m facing when suddenly a bell ring in the apartment.

I quickly realize that this is the signal announcing a visitor.

I go out as quickly as possible from the bedroom and find the living room: the sun floods the room and I realize that it is almost noon by looking at a clock on the wall.

I go directly to the videophone screen and I recognize Meredith at the entrance of the building.

- Yeah, hello? I asked shyly, surprised by my almost rocky voice.

- Owen?

I clear my throat quickly to answer her.

- Yes, good morning Meredith, I resume in an already clearer voice.

- Good morning Owen, I have a file for Amelia, as well as a package for her from the record company.

- Uh… Amelia is still sleeping… and I’m just getting out of bed too…

- Ah… but maybe I can just drop the package and the file, I won’t have time to come back until tonight.

I am a little hesitant, but I have no admirable reason to refuse her to come.

- No problem, I call the elevator and unlock the airlock.

- Thank you, Owen, see you!

I blow while moving away from the entrance and get a t-shirt that I had left in the bathroom to avoid receiving Meredith shirtless.

A different bell suddenly sounds, that of the front door this time.

I slip an eye through the peephole by reflex, then open the door with a creak, beckoning Meredith to enter.

- Hello, she repeats shaking my hand. It was a difficult night, I feel like, she adds worriedly looking at me.

I am a little taken aback by her question which spontaneously leads see to furtively remember the night I had just spent… but I quickly chase those moments from my mind and improvise a quick response.

- Yes, Amelia was more disturbed than she appeared yesterday by her return to Seattle, it brought back difficult memories.

- I can imagine, she replies in a whisper while advancing towards the living room table.

I notice that she has a package in her left hand and a file.

- I’ll leave the elements here, she continues. In the file, these are models that we wanted to offer to Amelia. And this package, Mark dropped it three days ago.

- Mark? I asked quickly, surprised by the mention of this name.

- Yes, Mark is also a singer signed in Amelia’s record label. Tonight he is organizing a party at home to celebrate his disc, his album has been on the rise for the past few weeks. He wanted to invite Amelia, I think he must have slipped an invitation card in this package and obviously something else but I don’t know what… but I promised to give it to Amelia if she came back in time to be there. I’ll let you explain it all to her?

- Explain to me what? 

Meredith and I turn directly to the sound of that voice rising behind us. We discover Amelia, dressed in my t-shirt, her hair slightly messy and the face still marked by sleep.

- Sweetie, excuse me, I woke you up? Hastens to inquire Meredith as she approaches Amelia.

- I heard a little noise, but it’s time to get up visibly, specifies Amelia, rubbing her eyes in front of the sun which floods the room.

Amelia’s gaze then finds mine and I feel destabilized by her intensity and the spark that I read there. I’m too afraid to understand what I’m guessing. I feel uncomfortable and I have the impression of suffocating under this piercing gaze and the weigh of the context… of which I am the only creator.

I have to leave this room… as soon as possible…

- I leave you to chat both quietly, I announced while taking the direction of the corridor.

- Owen, you… You are not staying? Shyly asks Amelia, visibly surprised by my eagerness to slip away.

- I’ll take a shower. Meredith has things to explain to you, I justify by stopping for a few moments in my run-up, while immediately taking the path of the bathroom, and avoiding her gaze.

I walk with long strides and carefully lock the door behind me, once in the bathroom.

I sigh a long time, my back wedged against the wood of the door.

The reality was clear but most difficult to accept: I had ruined everything.

And what made me the sickest was that I was going to hate myself even more in the hours and days to come.

Because the next time I read the pain in her eyes, I’ll be responsible for it.

I was going to become a horrible being.

 Because it was inevitable: I was going to make her suffer.

She was wrong.

I didn’t calm the bleeding from her heart.

On the contrary: I will revive them… intensely.

                           –––––––––––––––––––––––

Thank you for reading. Have a great week 💛

[dragonquesttbh]

Reward

For @thechavanator and @elfo98 !! (No spoilers, just El havin a naughty dream)

10. Dreaming of each other

Erik dropped his knife to the ground and wiped sweat from his brow. "Thanks man, you really saved my ass back there. Um, in fact..." He strolled over to El and closed the gap between them, hand stroking his cheek. "I think the Luminary deserves a reward," he breathed.

El gasped as their lips were crushed together– Erik's mouth, on his, effortlessly tearing his composure apart piece by piece with each swipe of his tongue.

Erik laughed mischievously, breath brushing El's lips as he drew back. "Don't act so surprised. I've wanted you for so long. I've wanted to snatch you up ever since you pissed me off in that cell."

El swallowed then dutifully parted his lips, whining as Erik greedily took possession of his mouth. An expert thief– unapologetically taking exactly what he wanted.

Not that El would ever want him to apologise.

"Me too," El gulped between breaths. "I want you so bad."

Erik flashed him a cocky grin, hooking a finger into his mouth. "You liked that, huh? You want some more?"

El nodded and let himself be shoved to the ground with a thud. Erik pounced on top of him and kissed him ferociously, a demanding hand tugging at his hair, bending him to his will.

His head thumped against the ground. He groaned, seeing stars as he searched for that familiar mop of blue.

Erik bent over him and pressed a finger to his lips.

"Shhh."

He stole El's hands and pinned them above his head, dipping his head down to El's to take his mouth once again. He licked a trail over his lips then sucked at the soft flesh of the lower one, mercilessly yanking at his hair as he sank deeper into El's mouth.

His other friends became a distant blur, irrelevant, as he drowned in a sea of tangled hair and unspoken promises.

His eyes fell shut, back arching up against his partner. A whimper spilled from his lips.

Bliss.

-

Then opened to a new blue, an endless horizon. His clothes, now soaked through, clung to him as the warm desert breeze soothed his skin, the edge of the oasis just tickling his ankles.

He gasped as a familiar lop sided grin crept up into his vision.

Gone was the green tunic, the blue trousers, replaced by.... considerably less.

Erik peered down at him in a seriously disheveled version of Serena's dancer's costume, the top half long since discarded, the reflection of the oasis bouncing off his bare chest. Damp blue flopped into his face, and El couldn't help but reach out to stroke it from his eyes.

Erik grinned and ran his hands over El's drenched shirt, feeling the outline of his muscles as the fabric stuck to them. "You're all wet," he whispered, lowering his mouth to El's ear. "Might as well finish the job."

El whined as Erik sank his teeth into his neck, fervently nipping a line down to his chest. He cried out, falling victim to his disarming touch.

Erik laughed and licked over the wound.

El desperately fumbled for a handhold, settling on Erik's hips then slipping an experimental hand under the visible line of his underwear.

Erik brought his head back up to El's and pressed their foreheads together. "Cheeky," he panted. "I like it."

He tossed El's belt to one side, the half-cape at his waist quickly following it on the sand. El quivered as he snuck his hand into his pants, thieving fingers moving swiftly to unravel him.

Erik bit his lip and smirked, casting his eyes up El's body. "Thoughts?"

El almost choked at the sight– Erik half naked, glistening under the sunlight, touching him.

"I need you."

Erik laughed softly, bringing their mouths together with affection.

El's eyes fluttered shut.

Then Erik's mouth ghosted away.

-

When they opened, his vision was no longer dazzled by blue, but clouded with pale pink.

Cherry blossom..?

He jolted up, then groaned. Of course: Hotto.

But where was–

The air was stolen from his lungs.

Erik, standing at the edge of the cliff, red silk kimono blowing in the wind.

He cast a wanton look back at El then beckoned him with a single finger.

El lurched to his feet and scrambled after him.

Erik laughed then disappeared around the corner in a flash of silk.

El's eyes darted around desperately.

A giggle from behind.

Red silk came over his eyes. Then lips against his cheek.

The silk fell away, and he was inside, gazing at the vision before him.

Erik, lying on his side on an inn bed, leg cocked up so a sliver of pale flesh peeked out between the vibrant red of the kimono– begging to be touched.

Then El was on him, kissing him, touching him, feeling him. Erik's legs wound around his back as he cried out in ecstasy.

"Yes," Erik gasped, writhing underneath him.

El closed his eyes as Erik moaned, losing himself to the sound of his cries. He buried his head in Erik's sweat slick neck, tasting salt.

"You're perfect."

.....

El groaned loudly as he grasped onto Erik tighter, burying his clammy face in his chest. His constant wriggling had meant that the lacing of his tunic had come loose and his cheek was pressed up against Erik's bare torso.

"Shh," Erik whispered, stroking a thumb over his silky hair. "You're okay, you're safe."

Sylv gasped excitedly and clasped his hands together. "Ooh! Somebody's getting a morning snuggle!" he sung, taking little consideration for the rest of the sleep-addled party members, who were gradually peeling themselves off their bed rolls.

"Hey, don't wake him, he's sleepy," Erik hissed, putting a protective hand over El's exposed ear.

Serena squealed. "Look, Veronica, they're cuddling!" she gushed.

Veronica rolled her eyes and flopped back onto her bedroll with a huff. "No shit."

Erik ran a gloved hand through El's hair as he squirmed. "Shh, it's okay. It's just a nightmare. You're safe now, you're with me, Erik. Your best friend."

Jade glanced at them and chuckled. "I think you mean boyfriend."

"We're not– fuck sake," he groaned, gently patting El's back. "He sometimes gets cuddly in his sleep and I let him, coz he's been through a lot and I want him to feel safe. That's it. He probably thinks I'm his mum or somethin'."

El shifted further on top him and grasped a handful of blue hair. "Eri–h!"

Veronica sniggered.

"Hey it's okay. Whatever it is, you'll be alright." He glanced up at Veronica, who was shooting him an obvious I told you so look. "Shut up..."

El pressed his cheek against Erik's, face tightly screwed up.

"Hey, what's wrong, partner? You in pain? What's wro–"

El rolled on top of him and Erik felt a hard press against his thigh.

His dagger? He reached between them and scrambled for the worn leather sheath.

His hand paused.

Oh.

That dagger needed a whole different kind of sheath.

Erik blushed heavily as El groaned on top of him.

"Ah, hah, s-someone's happy." He patted El's back and turned away from his sweat sheened face, straining to keep his eyes on the tent canvas.

"What's wrong honey? Your face has gone all red." Sylv leant over him and pressed his hand to his forehead with concern, frowning.

"He's, he's got..."

Sylv tipped his head to the side.

"Morning wood," he murmured.

Sylv giggled and clasped a hand to his mouth. "Are you okay?"

"Mm-hm. Nothin' I can't... handle," he muttered, feeling El's fist tighten on his hair.

El mumbled then shifted entirely on top of him, faces still pressed together, and Erik was suddenly overwhelmed by the heat of his body pressed on top of him.

Sylv held his palm over his growing smirk. "Well, aren't you gonna help the poor boy out? He obviously wants you to assist with his... Wood trouble."

Jade slapped her knee and snorted. "No way... The little shit!" An evil grin tugged at the corners of her mouth, her eyes turning decidedly dark. "Go on, help him. Aren't you supposed to be the Luminary's special little helper?"

Veronica pushed herself up, fighting for breath as she cackled. "Yeah, Eri–h!" she mocked.

Erik growled, desperately trying not to think about El's dagger digging into him. Though, the more he focused on the feeling of it against his body, it started to worryingly feel more like a swor–

El whined softly as he snuggled closer into him, face shifting across Erik's, the corners of their mouths just brushing.

Erik gulped, mouth suddenly dry.

El mumbled and shifted again, lips touching Erik's, groaning against his mouth.

A wolf whistle sounded through the tent. Followed by a cheer.

Erik was powerless to do anything but hold his breath, eyes wide, trying to battle the havoc El's touch was reeking on his traitorous body, particularly in one area.

El squirmed a little more then settled, mouth still resting partly on Erik's.

Erik cursed internally, the problem in his pants now rivalling El's. Various erotic, and slight less so, solutions to the problem ran through his mind, polluting his thoughts.

Erik groaned and peeled his eyes open, barely aware that he'd even closed them, and stroked a shaking thumb across El's cheek.

Don't wake up, not now. Don't–

El opened his eyes with a flutter.

Then immediately yanked his face away, panic flashing through his eyes.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't realise I–!" El jolted off Erik's body in horror and curled up into himself, burying his head in his hands as he rocked.

Erik lay frozen, staring up at the tent canvas, running his tongue over his chapped lips. Then his body finally caught up and he cringed. "Don't look at me..."

He could just make out Sylv whispering some comforting words.

Then a whimper next to him. A familiar one. His eyes darted left. El's curled up form– shaking quietly.

An image that instantly awakened his Luminary-protecting instincts.

Erik bolted upright and shuffled next to him, wrapping a tentative arm around his shoulder. He pressed his lips against El's ear.

"I've got one too, y'know. One that you caused," he said shakily, still reeling from utter disbelief.

El, having an erotic dream, about him?

The thought did instantly alleviate the guilt about the ones he'd had about El, though.

El looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "R-Really?"

"Yeah," he breathed, planting a kiss over a stray tear. "What were you thinking about? What fantasy can I make come true?"

El smiled and glanced at him bashfully. "You. You're my fantasy."

Erik grinned widely and tugged El closer.

"Aw, you're so damn adorable! And, well, if you're stuck for ideas, I remember I always wanted to..." He dropped his voice to low murmur, one that only El could hear. "...y'know, after we jumped off that cliff together. And then..." He pressed his mouth closer to El's ear, ensuring that only he could hear the utter filth spilling from his lips.

El's eyes widened. "That's... ambitious."

"What are you two whispering about?" Sylv asked, eyebrow arching.

"Nothing!" El stood up brightly and offered Erik his hand. "We're off to Hotto."

Erik gleefully took it and let himself be pulled up, adrenaline coursing through his body as their fingers twined. The opposite of before, he realised, when he'd pulled El up onto his horse at the Door of Departure. Brushing their sides fondly, he glanced down at the birthmark on El's hand and gripped onto it tightly– the hand he'd never wanted to let go.

El looked across at him, patiently waiting for his response.

He ducked his burning face behind a palm. "Sure, but why Hotto?"

El offered him a mischievous smile. "To get you a kimono."

[skvaderarts]

Chapter Twelve: Dauntless

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Chapter Twelve: Dauntless

Note: Hey everyone! Thanks for reading the last chapter! I was pretty tired when I edited it, so I’m sorry for any errors. I’ll be more careful and try to go back soon and correct anything I see. In the meantime, I want to thank Random Reader Nothing Special, BeansWithBones, and HunterJamie for their continued support. I always love talking to you guys! Now, back to the chapter! This one is going to be very... interesting. Haha!

-~-

There was nothing visible within the inky blackness. No light pierced the veil, seemingly holding back all time and rendering distance irrelevant and imperceivable. Regardless of how far he reached in either direction, he never touched anything and the sensation of weightlessness he felt was disputed by the lack of air friction but felt nonetheless. Yet somehow he seemed to travel rapidly downward, the sensation of his stomach dropping being the only concrete indicator of any movement at all. After all, it was so dark in here that he could simply have gone blind. He would have no way of telling. Being this deprived of his senses wasn’t reassuring, but until he figured out what was going on, there was no way of knowing.

As V stood (or floated or fell downward... there wasn’t really a way of knowing for sure) within the dimensional equivalent of a sensory deprivation tank, he internally acknowledged that although he should feel threatened or concerned, he didn’t. There was something strangely familiar about this place that he couldn’t quite place. If he didn’t know any better, he would swear that he had been here before. But that wasn’t possible... was it? After all, he should remember that. Or maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe the part of him that swore up and down that it had been here before was the only part of his subconscious that recalled a prior visit to this hellscape. How could he possibly say for sure?

In the blink of an eye, V suddenly felt every muscle in his body tense as he was hit with a powerful gust of air. As it grew in intensity, it dropped in temperature, the once oven-like heat taking on an otherworldly chill that sent him sliding back towards some unknown destination. Or it could have been forward for all he knew. It was literally impossible for him to tell at this point, especially with his arms folded around himself to protect his body from the unearthly force that pressed against him. It didn’t take long for him to lose his center of balance and topple to the side, launching forwards on what he could only assume was the floor. However, when he made physical contact with it, he found that it was soft and pliable, almost buoyant. The liquid clung to him but didn’t stick, possessing a quality similar to that of oil in water. Every bead of the abyssal substance ran off of his skin like it was coated in a hydrophobic substance. Every part of his body that made contact with it tingled slightly in response, and he was unsure if this was a good or a bad thing. Regardless, it was strange how much colder it was than the already freezing air. While not cold enough to remove any skin, it was more than a little bit uncomfortable. 

V launched himself to his feet, pushing himself upward with a quick press against the ground. To his shock, he kept tumbling backward instead of landing on his feet. It was as if the floor had rotated to keep him from gaining the upper hand. As he cartwheeled backward headfirst, he gained speed, flipping more times than he could even try to count. As he did so, his breathing became slightly frantic. Where was he going to land? Was he going to land at all? What if he was trapped here forever and this was how he would spend the rest of his natural (or unnatural) life? Did time even pass in this place? Had the entire day before this been nothing but a fever dream as he passed into eternal damnation? The idea of being stuck here quite literally spiraling out of control forever sure made it seem plausible.

“I need to regain my control over this situation,” He thought to himself with finality,” However I came to be in this place is irrelevant. I refuse to stay here any longer. If I could just stop-”

The very instant that the world “stop” passed through his mind, his body hit the ground with a heavy smack, knocking the wind out of him. The once soft material that he had touched merely a few moments before now felt like asphalt, a substance that he was all too familiar with falling onto. Every part of his body ached, although he somehow knew that he hadn’t broken anything. It was more like a toothache, a dull throb that traveled through every inch of his body leaving him immobile and uncomfortable. Thankfully, his pain threshold was legendarily high, so the instant his breath returned to him, he blinked and carefully clambered to his feet.

“I can only assume that you brought me here for a reason?” V asked cautiously. He had no idea the limits of the power that his place possessed.

The darkness did not respond. Instead, it remained woefully silent, unwilling, or perhaps unable to answer his question. He inhaled, unwilling to take silence for an answer. He hadn’t come here of his own volition, at least to his knowledge. He required answers. He was owed answers. And he was going to receive them.

“So you’re going to tell me that you are capable of manipulating this entire place,” V said gesturing casually to the vast nothingness that encompassed him,” but you are not capable of communicating? How disappointing.”

The air (if that was what he was in. Presumably. After all, he was breathing) became statically charged, causing his thin, lightweight white hair to float upward slightly, spreading out around his head. His arms tingled as the static wrapped around him, making every hair on his body regardless of how thin, stand at attention. He exhaled, lifting his arms to look at them. He almost expected there to be something physically present, but there was nothing. This reminded him of something all too familiar, but he dare not speak his thoughts into existence. There was no way that this could have anything to do with them.

…

“If you have some sort of wisdom to impart upon me, I’d appreciate it if you would do so. I do not desire to be here any longer than I already have been.”

Again, the vast emptiness did not reply. At least not verbally. The inky ground bubbled and churned as if it were about to produce something from within it. Several back abyssal spikes broke free from the ground and encircled him, growing closer to him as they closed him in completely. V stood his ground, now thoroughly fed up with whatever the hell was going on. No, this was going to stop. Now.

“Either make your demands or release me,” he said, completely unamused by this situation,” I’m done entertaining your games.”

Before he could say anything further, the wind returned. Only this time it hit him with the force of a freight train. The spikes encapsulating him from behind dropped into the ground and he went flying backward, tumbling weightlessly, except this time much harder and faster than he had before. Every molecule of air left his lungs and he gasped as he crashed with devastating force into the now almost completely solid surface that surrounded him. He never got the chance to figure out if it was the wall, floor, or ceiling because he was rendered unconscious upon impact. It was lights out the instant he made contact with whatever he had landed on.

The young white-haired man gasped and jolted into an upright position in his bed, gasping for breath. His hair flopped down onto his face, sticking to the sweat that he seemed to be soaked in. As he panted breathlessly in an attempt to grasp as much precious air as his lungs could contain, he moved his arms and jolted in shock. In the places where the black substance had gripped him, were the faint but now fading remnants of his former familiar’s tattoos. Specifically Griffon’s. The marking glowed brightly, emitting white light as it outlined the corresponding markings. After a moment, the light faded, allowing V a better look. His arms and part of his chest were covered in faint grey markings that were barely perceivable to the naked eye. But they were most certainly his former tattoos. Of that, there was no doubt. The only difference was they were completely depleted of their power, the vibrant black luster now absent in its entirety.

After a moment, the marking disappeared entirely, leaving his arms and chest bare again and his mind swirling with a plethora of thoughts and anxieties. Had his resurrection unleashed something within him? After all, the place that he had just been in seemed to be metaphysical in nature. He had woken up in his room again after his visit, and his body was still just as sore as it had been a few moments ago. And to top it all off, his head throbbed from the supposed impact he had made with the ground just moments ago. Some aspect of that had to be real, didn’t it?

It almost felt like he had brought something back with him when he had returned and he couldn’t even pretend that that wouldn’t have consequences later down the line. For now, he would take a shower. Perhaps the soothing water would calm his nerves and give him a much-needed reprieve to focus his thoughts and form a hypothesis as to how this had come about.

Things had made so much sense before all of this had happened.

He didn’t like his old life, but at least he didn’t visit other dimensions in his downtime.

-~-

V’s hair was still stuck to his face, only this time it was from water instead of midnight precipitation. He had changed into the alternate set of clothing that Kyrie had left him the day before and sat down on his bed, noticing for the first time that daylight shined in from outside. It was later in the day than he originally thought. There wasn’t much due to the storm that still raged beyond the safe confines of the house, but at least things had calmed down somewhat since last night. Before there was no light at all, as if the clouds themselves had absorbed it with their arrival.

He sat there for a moment, his wet hair dripping down onto his shirt. He didn’t really notice it, and if he had, he wouldn’t have minded. Something more was going on, and the longer he stayed here, the more pronounced the feeling of ever approaching danger became. He needed answers. Urgently. For perhaps the first time in his life, he didn’t know much of anything about what was going on, and that unnerved him greatly. As his mind tried to piece together a coherent string of thoughts, V stood up and walked over to the window. After pulling the curtains shut, he leaned his head against them, noting how cold the glass was even through the thick cloth.

During his shower, he had time to think. And during that time, something had occurred to him. For the first time in his entire life, he needed to make a decision that pertained to his family. V scoffed to himself at the thought of it. How preposterous, the idea that he was now part of something like this. Until yesterday, he had no idea what it was like to be loved; to be wanted and accepted unconditionally by others. For the majority of his life up until this point, he had been an outsider everywhere he went. His distinct white hair was quite the head-turner in public spaces, and his stature made it nearly impossible to blend in even though all he wanted was to assimilate and be overlooked. And now he had exactly what he wanted, but in a way he would have never fathomed possible. 

More often than V would be willing to admit, he had sat and pondered the possibility of having a family somewhere out there, so much of his idle time and energy spent on possibilities and contingencies. But he didn’t have a plan of action for being loved and wanting to preserve the lives of those closest to him. Despite the fact that he barely knew Kyrie and the children, even Nero for that matter, it was undeniable that he felt… comfort when he was with them. That was something that he treasured. But what was that worth to him truly? Could he equate a worth to that?

It had been no coincidence that he should return and then have such a surreal out of body experience. And then there was this storm. It was anyone’s guess where his familiars had disappeared to when he had died, but he was willing to guess that simply returning to hell or fading into oblivion were off the table as possibilities. That was too simple, and they were not regular demons. Nightmares probably didn’t work the same way as your run of the mill lesser demon. After all, did a nightmare really ever die? Perhaps if they were forgotten, but even then the person who experienced them could still recall vague details about their dreams later down the line.

And then that presented another important question. Did V want his familiars back in the first place? While there was no question as to their loyalty and the strength of his relationship with them, he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to devote himself to that path so fully. At the time that he had made his allegiances, he was presented with no other alternative. Literally backed into a corner, it was either fight or die, and he possessed no fighting experience or knowledge of how to control any abilities that he might possess. Was he ready to give up any possibility of a normal life and commit such a substantial part of being to this world that he had born so far from? When he had been raised away from the chaos that seemed to plague his family, he had been given a chance at a somewhat normal, if not arduous and miserable life. Somehow, even though he had never met the woman, he had the feeling that this wasn’t what his mother would have wanted for him. And a part of him respected and agreed with that sentiment. But another part of him resented the idea that he needed to be protected from his own existence. After all, if he truly was a descendant of Sparda, he couldn’t be that helpless. Maybe he just needed a teacher. From what little he had come into naturally, he knew he possessed abilities. Royal Fork was born purely from his will, no instruction required. And this nagging feeling of uncertainty that he felt now was almost assuredly supernatural in its insistence.

Did the need to repel danger at any cost constitute a choice at all?

By that notion, did anyone in his family truly have a choice in all this?

V gripped the curtains tightly, allowing his eyes to close before exhaling. He would always find the strength to embody the ideals that he stood for. The only issue here was that he had no idea what part he played in any of this. However, coincidences were something he was against on principle and he rejected them as a policy. If he actually thought that whatever was going on with this storm and his experience during the night were not somehow connected, then he was truly stupid. And although V was many things, stupid was not one of them. Before he could decide anything, he needed to be more informed. Going into things blindly had ended badly for him the last time.

Although he was the first to admit that he didn’t know very much about the island of Fortuna, he knew that this place had a history with demons. Word of the disaster here a few short years ago had reached the mainland in bits and pieces not long after it had occurred, and talk of magic and supernatural activity had shrouded the entire place in an air of mystery. Maybe he could ask Nero if he knew something about what had happened here. It was hard for him to believe that there could be a cataclysmic demonic invasion here and Nero hadn’t been involved somehow.

After taking a final breath to clear his overcrowded mind, he turned and headed to the bedroom door. He was tired already, and he hadn’t even been awake an hour yet. As he opened the door, the children ran past, more than likely headed in the direction of the stairs. Nero was standing just off to the side of the door talking on the phone with someone, although he hadn’t a clue who since he wasn’t talking loud enough to be heard clearly. Kyrie and Nico were nowhere to be seen, but he assumed they were somewhere nearby. A distant crash from inside of the garage followed by the sound of Nico cursing confirmed his suspicions. Some things never changed.

He stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind himself just in time to hear Nero read off an address to someone and say something about seeing them soon before hanging up the phone. Nero turned, catching sight of V out the corner of his eye. He seemed to be in a relatively good mood from what V could decipher, his posture more relaxed than he was accustomed. Despite the three children playing not far from them, this was still a much less hostile environment than they were normally accustomed to being in. Wonderful. He could start his morning by totally killing the mood between them for the rest of the day. Just what he was going for.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Nero actually sounded somewhat surprised as he spoke,” I was wondering if you were getting up today.”

V glanced over on the small wall clock that hung over a mudroom rack near the entrance, noting that it was just shy of noon. He scoffed at the comment, seeming somewhat amused. 

“Ironic. This is actually rather early for me, all things considered,” He replied nonchalantly as he leaned against his bedroom door,” I actually have a question for you, if you can spare a moment.”

Nero spared a glance in the direction of the children playing down the hall. They had parked themselves in the living room, not going upstairs as V had assumed. If V was willing to guess, they normally played outside, but the storm had forced them to hang out inside and they were making the best of an unideal situation. Understandable.

“Shoot. What is it?” Nero asked casually.

V crossed his arms, capitalizing on his position against the wall to provide him the balance he required. “I need in-depth information on demons, specifically pertaining to alchemy or binding. Is there anywhere in town that houses that sort of information?”

Nero gave him a sideways look, clearly wondering what he could want with that kind of information. He seemed to ponder the question deeply for a moment as if he were debating something. After a moment, he sighed. “... No. Not in town. But…” Nere glanced up and down the hallway as if he was checking to see if anyone was within earshot,”... There was this one bastard that worked for the Order, a huge asshole named Agnus. He has a lab outside of town in some giant castle that Sparda supposedly lived in forever ago. That place is loaded with books. It was abandoned after the Order fell apart after the attack.”

V took in the response, nodded to himself as he considered the validity of finding anything useful there. It seemed likely. “How do I get there?”

The look on Nero’s face spoke volumes. While he was curious about what V could possibly want with that wretched place, he decided to just go with it. But the last thing he was going to do was let him go there alone. That was just asking for trouble. There were traps everywhere, and just because the Hellgate had been destroyed didn’t mean that the place wasn’t still crawling with demons.

Nero took a step towards the door and grabbed his sword, reaching for his coat with the other. This was going to be a long day. 

“Don’t worry about it. I can get you inside,” his mind was distant. Going back to the place where he had the first glimpse of his power was going to be very surreal,” I just hope whatever you want there is worth it. That place is nothing but trouble”

-~-

PHEW! I am so sleepy right now. But I made sure to check the grammar on this chapter better than the last one. I’m sure something slipped past me, but it has to be better than last time. Thanks for checking out this chapter! It was really fun to write, especially the voice section at the start. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on that one. I’d love to see if any of you can guess what’s up with that place. In the meantime, stay safe out there and I’ll see you on Wednesday, June 10th with another chapter! Take care!

[goddamnitdazai]

wasted nights. | odazai

{ tw: self-harm, mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts, mentions of suicide, past self-harm } words: 3,941 His name held a weight carried by no other man on this earth. For as long as Dazai could remember the world around him had unceremoniously remained monotone in hue. Vibrancy subsisting as an adjective worth as much as the gum stuck beneath a schoolboy’s desk. Meaningless, a playful word met with unbridled disinterest because in the greys and blacks there was nothing of ‘vibrancy’. His attention remained only, and minutely, when he found himself amused in the strings of puppets and playthings purposely dancing in front of him to engage in what he could consider amusement. But vibrant? No. Though, nothing could compare to the elated spring in his step when he sang out those four separate sounds. For the amusement of irritating Ango, and for his own hidden lightness when the response sprang back his own name in equal interest. ‘Od-a-sa-ku~

Watching his prey fall to meticulously laid traps held the second highest rank in his list of enjoyable things left to him on this endless carousel. As always there is a first place, but the holder of that position remained a semi-unknown oddity by Dazai’s own doing for there was a strange twinge in his heart at the thought of the secret falling in to the wrong hands. A secret that Dazai could not place under the category of vibrant though his eyes would often spark in golds highlighted by the bar lights on the evenings he found himself in treasured company. Something uncannily exhilarating ringing out in Dazai’s cheery voice to be met seconds later with a mirrored exhilarance that Dazai had not been able to forsee. Answers he didn’t understand completely and would spend hours, sometimes days, lying in his office wondering where such a comment or reaction could stem from. When the heaviness was becoming too much Dazai often found himself searching for other ways of...amusing himself. Accident tallys left on his skin didn’t match up with injuries on the job and those combined did not reach the amount left on his own accord. By attempts to flee this world or merely a way to stop the obnoxious dread that pricked at his skin. They all left the same reminder that he was able to ignore until the bandages would begin to itch. Dazai wasn’t fond of knives--they bored him, and only in the utmost of lazy times would he lower his standards enough to use one. There were much better ways to pass the time when his mind twisted and spiraled into black smoke. Uncatchable by even his own hands although for the most part Dazai was too lazy to care. “Odasaku!” Genuine surprise. Curiosity. Fragments of something Dazai didn’t quite understand bundled in four syllables. Rarely did anyone enter his office without prompting much less without knocking first. Despite the high-pitched singing of the man’s given identity Dazai felt that name roll off his tongue as if it were coated in sludge. A sharp jolt striking up his spine at the aforementioned man idling as still as a statue in the doorway. Red hair standing out against the plain walls and disheveled books lining the mahogany shelving. Dazai could feel Odasaku’s eyes trace up and down his bare skin now exposed under the dim moonlight. A glow from the standing lamp in the corner offered little shadowing to Dazai’s body from where he was standing in front of his desk. Shoes kicked in different directions and shirt hanging limply around his waist still tucked in to his dress pants. All bandages from his torso up shredded in to bits of thin stringy fabric strewn about his office floor as if a wild raccoon had come in and thrown a party with his medical supplies. “This is so unexpected~” Dazai keeps the ruse going, but he knows better. One hand pinching the end of his bandage roll in the midst of trying to rip a new patch off while the other arm drips thick puddles of crimson onto the hardwood floor. In the small length of time Dazai had been standing naked from the waist down enough blood had fallen to create a blossom at his feet. This is why he never bothered getting rugs despite the scuffing of shoes and marks from Akutagawa’s nails and teeth. Dazai curls his shoulders in stupidly as if the subtle movement would shroud the entire mass of his marred and open skin from Odasaku’s curious eyes. “I would have cleaned up had I known such a visitor would be gracing me tonight!” He glances back over his shoulder good eye looking past Odasaku at the cracked door rather than at the man he so often sat next to for hours on end having uncanny conversations that led to strange situations and topics. Things no one else bothered to discuss with him, and most were too scared. Dazai preferred it that way. This seemed karmatically fair in a way, he supposed. Dazai had memorized every subtle mark, scar, and blemish on Odasaku’s face. Dark, stubborn hairs that continued to sprout up every few days no matter how closely or often Odasaku shaved. When Odasaku would wind up at the bar after being radio silent all day Dazai could see the difference in his hands. When he used his knowledge to subdue someone rather than engage in a fight with weapons he’d often have marks signaling a struggle. Even the smallest, nearly under-a-microscope incision would catch Dazai’s attention immediately. His marks were probably visible from the fucking moon right about now. “Odasaku are you going to come in?” Dazai’s coat was flung off somewhere. White shirt a mangled mess of fabric, blood, and smelling of some ancient chemical he couldn’t find a name for. He’d mixed it after reading something he’d stolen from Mori’s office. It did the job. His arm was proof of that. Upon hearing footsteps Dazai’s body stiffens, but before there is a passing of eyes Odasaku’s foot closes the door behind him leaving the two men in alone with the moonlight and faint glow from the single lamp in the corner. He exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He’s had worse, he thinks to himself in the trapped silence. Practiced indifference tied up in a smile incredibly sinister despite the normalized expectation of what a true smile meant. Blood was nothing but an irritant that forced him to get his laundry done rather consistently but even with the frequency of stains and rips Dazai tended to leave the evidence strewn about on his floor for days on end.  This, though, was an actual rarity nobody knew about. Dazai hated these four walls the most. Being trapped by things that held no interest to him with stacks of reports and reminders of Akutagawa’s shortcomings. And, he could be found here. Though the view--he couldn’t knock that even if he wanted to. Yokohama shimmering in gold fragments as the shadows of twilight cast their darkness along the streets hiding those who needed it. Night was the only acceptable time to be in here. When he wasn’t sought after and Mori had left for the day. Nobody would bother him. Except Odasaku, apparently. Bothering wasn’t the right word. Surprised? Yes, better. Odasaku surprised him here and if it had been under different circumstances he would be able to do more than stare out at the man like a deer caught in the headlights. Odasaku keeps his hands steady in his pockets eyes remaining on Dazai. Reading his body language, drinking in the sight of the executive without his bandages. He wasn’t shocked by what was under them, though their frequency and abundancy struck a chord in the man’s chest that seemed to lock up his throat.“Let me.” Odasaku says, breaking the unnatural tension he feels rising at Dazai’s silence. Dazai was never silent. Not around him. Dazai feels the rumble of Odasaku’s footsteps in his chest. Vibration jarring up his legs making the skin tingle. When had Odasaku been here last? Had he ever? Dazai tries to restart his mind but the ache from the wound mixing with the pills he’d taken earlier slowed his normal process, and for some reason he felt like his skin was on fire. He watches Odasaku’s form ease forward coat shrugged off the taller man’s shoulders with ease and thrown on to a nearby chair. “How bad is it?” Odasaku asks, pointing to Dazai’s arm wet with blood and half-assed gauze. Dazai smiles brightly. “Odasaku~ no need to worry about me. I’ve dealt with worse on my own! Let’s go to the bar I need a drink and this office is so stuffy.” No matter how cheerful his voice he could already tell Odasaku was not going to leave without seeing his wound be tended to. No one had ever been this close to him before, not when he was open like this. Each muscle in his body tenses at once and the hairs on the back of his neck spring up. Dazai fights off a shiver. The urge to shroud himself from prying eyes that look through him like glass. Exposed. He didn’t care about the arm. Stitches, gauze, he’d be alright. Odasaku’s eyes were burning holes in him. Following the path of each criss-crossed and pink scar drawing uneven lines and dips against the paleness of his skin. How many had Odasaku been able to count in this short period of time? His back was probably the worst, and his shoulder. All of which was being displayed to Odasaku from the angle and fuck if he didn’t want to punch himself for not locking the damn door. “Sit.” Odasaku never commands anyone, not with the veracity and darkness Dazai did. Same effect, strange. Or perhaps it was Dazai’s lightheadedness and unnatural skittishness that leads him to sit down in one of the chairs at the front of his desk. Good eye watching Odasaku’s every move with morbid curiosity. What would he think of Dazai now? The question proceeds to burn a hole in the back of his throat. More silence. Dazai could hear his heart pumping blood too quickly in his ears. Odasaku rolls his sleeves up one at a time and reaches for Dazai’s bandages forgotten on the floor. Strips of alcohol wipes and a few patches of gauze still strewn all over the place make their way to Odasaku’s larger hands. Setting each one up on the desk in the order that he’d need it. Dazai wanted to laugh at his meticulous layout. Odasaku was not an extremely detailed person in that fashion though he knew from personal experience Odasaku tended to stick to a routine when in his own element. Breakfast and coffee after showering, sitting at the right spot at the table to watch the sunrise. Eggs and toast. Black coffee one sugar. Repeat. Dazai crashed on his couch enough times he knew the sound of Odasaku’s morning by heart. His heart rate wouldn’t stop elevating and the shift in position made it ten times more noticeable like someone was pounding on a war drum inside Dazai’s chest. Odasaku’s leg extends back foot hooking around the bottom of the chair behind him to pull it up allowing him to sit on Dazai’s injured side. The sound rattles the room making the elder man cringe slightly. “Sorry.” Dazai blinks at him. For what? His smile returns, a mix of the facade and true confusion at the apology. “Odasaku you can’t apologize for an object.” Odasaku blinks back at Dazai. “Sorry.” Dazai chuckles nearly forgetting about the ragged shirt hanging from his hips until he feels Odasaku’s breath fan down his bare shoulder when he leans forward to grab the alcohol wipes. Dazai’s lungs freeze up halfway through an inhale forcing a strange, mangled cough and gasp to come from his lips. “Are you alright Dazai?” The concern in Odasaku’s voice makes Dazai shift away sheepishly. Unamused by the strange sound his body just emitted. “Of course! I told you I’ve had worse injuries!” He sings, eyes drawing in to focus on a single light reflecting gold in the building across the street. What the fuck was wrong with him? Dazai straightens his posture residing his one good hand in the pocket of his dress pants as they always were. Hiding his best attributes other than his mind--or that’s what Mori said anyway. A full moon hangs high above the paralleled building outside dropping Yokohama in a deep, navy canvas of shadows. Lack of stars pinpointing the fragmented moon as the shining beacon tonight with no other distractions to take away from its pale beauty. Dazai watches Odasaku carefully unwrap the bandages in the most delicate manner. It was hard not to laugh at the unnecessary care for the inanimate roll of cloth, but he would not be Odasaku if the action were performed any other way. “Sit more towards me. It’ll be easier.” Again, his commands are never harsh and bone-chilling like Dazai’s, and Dazai couldn’t wrap his head around it. He enjoyed seeing the fear dilate their pupils thirteen times over and the skin on their face fall paler than the moon outside. Odasaku’s commands felt more like a suggestion, but Dazai knew when the elder man was truly issuing a command there was no option to do otherwise. The chair dips beneath Dazai’s weight and he’s suddenly too aware of how he looks without his bandages and shirt on. Scars unhidden now that the angle had changed and the shadows he so desperately tried to cover himself with were two inches too far to the left. A wave of panic that he had not felt in years begins to blossom from his chest reaching out to the tips of his fingers descending down to the tips of his toes. Sweat begins to bead at the nape of his neck hidden beneath dark chocolate strands unruly and partially blood-soaked from earlier. “Does that hurt?” Odasaku’s voice snaps Dazai from his panic-induced daze. Eyes shifting down to see the man’s hands carefully sliding disinfectant pads over the cuts. Blood trailing the white cotton soaking up nearly to the tips of Odasaku’s fingers. Whatever Dazai had concocted led to an interesting, although painful, reaction. The initial sting drove away the darkness. Gave his mind something to focus on rather than the deep oceans of emptiness and boredom that made him long for a noose. After a few minutes it began to tear his skin away from his arm as if a lion had tried to claw off his flesh and muscle for a feast. “These cuts are deep, Dazai. You should have treated them sooner.” They’ll scar now. Why didn’t Odasaku finish his sentence? Dazai felt like he’d swallowed a mouth full of cotton. “I was busy~” He sighs dramatically. Could Odasaku tell he was pushing harder to keep his voice light and airy? Under any normal circumstances of his company the light feeling in his heart was true and happened to come out in his voice. Now, he mimicked that around those he didn’t want being comfortable with him. To be thrown off when his voice dropped and the mafioso in him began to shine through. Demonic prodigy, yet here he was splayed open for the world to see all the scars and imperfections littering his upper body. Vulnerable. Dazai hated that word more than he hated seeing Akutagawa waiting for him at his office door. Odasaku glances up at him blue eyes glossed in exhaustion yet the color seemed to pierce through Dazai’s chest keeping his attention and sewing his mouth shut. Dazai waits, unblinking, for Odasaku’s response. Nothing comes and he can’t tell if the silence is choking him or if it was the smell of blood and alcohol mixing together adding to the lightheadedness he felt from rapidly losing that much blood all at once. “Then come get me next time.” A true command. The words stick in Dazai’s ears. Next time. His hands weren’t soft, Dazai didn’t expect them to be. Handling guns and laboring with a shovel at times to dig graves, climbing fences and walls to chase and threaten thugs not worth ‘true’ mafia time didn’t leave baby soft skin. This felt more natural, though. Mori’s hands were soft and Dazai hated the way it felt on him when he’d patch up a wound even before he agreed to join the mafia. Besides, Mori only saw the scarring when he forcibly treated Dazai in the clinic, but back then it wasn’t nearly as abundant on his body. Mori’s hands were cold, too. Chillingly so that each touch made Dazai jolt back which only led the doctor to laugh at his reaction. ‘Dazai-kun of all the things to dislike you dislike the cold?’ No. He didn’t like being touched, or pain. One was uncomfortable and the other..unnatural. He didn’t mind Odasaku’s touches. Even with scruffy hands he had more delicacy and intricate movements than Dazai had expected. Fingers working through the cuts without spreading blood up his arms, one hand working to clean the frayed edges while the other holds Dazai’s shoulder in place to keep from wasting the cleansing wipes. How odd, he thinks for a moment. Why? “Odasaku,” Dazai instinctively smiles, “why are you being so careful? There’s lots in my desk.” He catches the changed of expression of Odasaku’s face. Thin lines of concentration dissipating for a moment as he blinks and takes in Dazai’s question. “I don’t want to be wasteful. In case you really get injured and we run out of them.” He states. Dazai’s breath catches in his throat. He wasn’t expecting that. We--we? “It would take twenty minutes to convince you to go to the doctor or see a nurse here. It’s easier if I help you, and I don’t want to waste time running out to get more supplies.” Odasaku continues as if he’s speaking about the weather. Dazai’s tongue falls numb. Body buzzing and head coming to a screeching halt. Maybe it was the bloodloss, that had to be the cause. Odasaku was always one to surprise him and Dazai could hit back with a reply within seconds, but the assumption--no, command, that Dazai would seek out Odasaku each time he fell into this revolving occurrence threw him off his game. Odasaku truly wanted to nurse Dazai back to health. Dazai wanted to smirk like the devil he truly was. Odasaku treating Dazai, the demon, like a fragile helpless lamb. Why? For what? His thoughts are cut short upon the feeling of Odasaku’s fingers tracing one of the deeper, older scars on Dazai’s shoulder. From the curve of it nearly down to the bend in his elbow. Self-inflicted, one of many in that area. One of the fewer where he used a knife to satiate the need for release in that instant. After Mori slit the old boss’s throat. Dazai’s body snaps completely rigid, the only feeling left is the tingling trailing Odasaku’s finger. Shockwaves. Dazai’s throat grows dry. “Does that hurt?” Odasaku asks earnestly, watching pale skin pebble beneath his fingertip. Dazai can only shake his head. It didn’t. His eyes flicker to the left watching the moonlight dance on the paneled wall where he hid a government port. All of a sudden he really wanted a reason to go through the information and find something, someone, to play with. Odasaku’s fingers still for a moment before they retract. Dazai forces the air out that his lungs had trapped. “This one is longer, I think.” Odasaku says unbuttoning his shirt deftly letting the edges pop open, right shoulder bouncing up and down a bit to let the fabric slide off. Dazai quirks a brow curiously. Until he sees it. Knife mark, old. From his collarbone down disappearing from view in to the arm of his shirt. “Odasaku.” Dazai starts, but doesn’t know how to finish. Goosebumps roll down his spine. Who did that? It looked old..nearly as old as his, but where they dead? Of course not. Odasaku didn’t kill anymore, but Dazai would. He opens his mouth then closes it again. Eyes locked on Odasaku as he pushes his shirt back up leaving the top two buttons open in favor of going back to cleaning Dazai’s arm. The younger man watches in silence, unsure of what to say. Words tied to the back of his throat and he can’t help but wonder how many other scars are hidden beneath that shirt. Stories. A lifetime ago, two days ago. Did Odasaku know where Dazai got his from?

The thought makes him sick to his stomach. Dazai averts his eyes a second time trying to find that patch of blood still left on the wall from whoever had this office before him. An executive the old boss killed, probably. He never cared enough to ask and still didn’t. His fingers twitch, cold. The wound was cleaned, at least. “I can handle the rest by myself Odasaku~ No need to waste a night on me in this office. Let’s go to the bar! I’m sure Ango is worried sick about us.” He grins wide, hyper-aware of his visible and pebbled skin. Odasaku glances up at Dazai blinking twice before he speaks. “There is never a night wasted between us, Dazai.” He states, smile small and fragile before it falls from his features to be replaced with a look of concentration. Silence. Dazai can feel his heart pounding in his ears. The echo, the unbalanced flutter in his stomach and unknown warmth spreading from his arm. From the bloodloss, maybe. He bites the inside of his cheek staring down at the man beginning to rub topical on his flayed skin. “Isn’t there?” He doesn’t recognize the sound of his own voice. Two steps left of soft and...tepid. Why? Dazai bites his lip harder. His question raises Odasaku’s head again, larger hands stilling on his skin. A flicker of silver catches against deep blue eyes full of concern. “No, there isn’t.” Odasaku answers simply. Truthfully. As if the question itself was ridiculous, but there is no scoffing or abrasiveness in his tone. Dazai, once more, can’t breathe without it scratching his throat. Can’t speak. Needles in his tongue. Odasaku returns to the task of numbing the thicker cuts around the edges. “This won’t feel too good.” He comments, looking up at Dazai for conformation. The brunette simply nods in understanding. Body relaxing and heart rate beginning to slow. If he tensed it would throw the stitching off, and he didn’t want to trouble Odasaku. The man would spend hours perfecting them like it was his only task in his lifetime. After a few minutes the tension in Dazai’s body dissipates completely. Leaving him slightly hunched and slumped on the chair watching Odasaku work the skin closed. Delicately. There is nothing delicate about Dazai. Only what is given to him, in this very moment, and once the doors shut it would slip through his fingers. He didn’t mind it. Moments were never meant to be more than an eventual memory and even then they would fade away. Perhaps this wouldn’t. It was etched in his skin, anyway. Lines drawn in the sand far enough away from the ocean that the water doesn’t reach it. Permanent. He didn’t mind this one, though. Not right now. The way it came about on his skin--the ending, not the process. Odasaku tilts his head to get a better view. Dazai mimics it without a second though. Night drawing on, slowly, lazily. Never wasted.

[qethnehzul]

Tongues - Chapter I

The gentle, steady breeze that carried the distant tang of camp smoke rustled the stiff tundra grass that coated the landscape outside the walls of Whiterun. Overhead, a goshawk circled on the thermals as it searched for unsuspecting prey, its shadow occasionally passing over a pair of figures far below.

A burly redguard man and a thin bosmer woman sat huddled behind a heap of rocks on one of the taller hills, a few burlap bags strewn about them. The woman stretched out, adjusting a sack she was using as pillow before throwing a arm over her face again to try to block out the sun. The redguard didn’t put down his spyglass, scanning the horizon line.

“Ya really sure it’s worth stayin’ here, Casil?” The man grunted, finally pulling the glass away. He turned his head with irritation, arching his brow as he looked to his companion.

She didn’t move beyond giving him a simple nod of her head.

He rolled his eyes. “‘Course it is for ya. Ya haven’t lifted a finger since we got here,” he grunted, before turning back to examine the field with his naked eye. Nothing. Nothing, as far as his yellow eyes could see. Well, he supposed there was a small herd of elk a mile or two away. He felt his stomach growl, but he ignored it. No people. At least three well-worn dirt roads passed through the area that they could see from their hill, but not a single soul had walked down any of them since they’d arrived- probably a good five hours prior. “I’m tellin’ ya,” he continued, leaning back against the hill, “it’s the war. People ain’t gonna travel like they used to, even with winter ‘round the corner. Shit’s been gettin’ worse and worse. Might’ve been a good spot five years ago ‘for all this shit started but it ain’t no good now,” he said. He set the spyglass down in his lap, pulling a whale bone toothpick from a pocket in his leather armor. He brought it up to his badly scarred lips, starting to pick at his gnarly yellow teeth.

Finally, the woman sat up. She rubbed her face, squinting vibrant orange eyes at the landscape around her as she re-adjusted to the bright light of the sun. She let out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t wrong, and she hated that. She waited until his gaze was on her again before lifting her hands. A string of motions followed, each gesture punctuated with a look of irritation.

He chuckled, taking a moment to absorb what was being conveyed. “Look, I know, I know, but this ain’t productive. Least we could do is hunt some elk or somethin’. At least we could use that,” he grunted, eyeing the elk on the horizon again. “Or sell it. Sure someone would buy it. Ain’t like folks are out huntin’ with everythin’ going on either.”

Casil sighed, rubbing her chin as she followed her companion’s gaze. All cows, decent sized. Frankly, she was surprised they were still wandering around- with how desperate the war had gotten, game had started to hurt in other parts of Skyrim. She supposed that Whiterun was still relatively strife-free in comparison thanks to its refusal to participate, but maybe that should have just made game hunting here easier. She shoved it out of her mind, simply shaking her head. ‘You just want to chase something,’ she signed to him, rolling her eyes this time.

“Yeah, I do. It’s borin’ sittin’ here,” he whined. “Ya ain’t the one watchin’ fer shit. Ya just nappin’!” He pointed his toothpick repremendingly at her.

She flashed him a grin. ‘Sorry, Sterlas. I thought more people might be passing through,’ she signed, shrugging. ‘Used to be a good spot for traders.’

“Like I said. Half a decade ago, maybe. Ain’t a good spot for shit now, ‘cept maybe burs,” Sterlas grumbled, reaching up to the thick plate of fur around his neck to pick some flecks of grass out of it.

Casil glanced to the surrounding landscape again, her own fingers moving to absent-mindedly pick at the plants surrounding her. Five years ago this place had been absolutely bustling. They hadn’t seen a single soul now. The war had brought in more money in the past five years than Casil ever had in the rest of her life combined, but it really had made her income… boring. Repetitive. Same old same old. She slowly pouted, blowing a strand of grey hair out of her face as she slouched. She missed the variability of the old days.

Overhead, the goshawk let out a cry, breaking the silence that had fallen over the field. Sterlas grunted and flopped back, continuing to pick at his rotting teeth with the gentle clicking of enamel and bone. “Well, if we’re gonna just waste our sweet time out here, I’m gonna catch some shut eye,” the man yawned, stretching.

Casil glanced at him, before scooting over to grab the spyglass out of his lap. She brought it up to her eyes, taking her turn to scan the horizon. The breeze picked up, making her shudder. Winter was rolling in. The sun hung overhead for now, but heavy rain clouds loomed on the horizon. The ominous spires of Bleak Falls Barrow lay silhouetted against the dark grey, one of many reminders of times long past. Soon, the fields of Whiterun would be soggy with mud, and then covered in snow. Normally, days like this where there was a break in the rain were ideal times for people to be out traveling, coming and going from the city with their goods before bad weather made it increasingly difficult to travel. Casil supposed the damn civil war had been to blame for the severe lack of travelers. The roads were dangerous to travel these days.

Casil swept the spyglass across the hills, before pausing. She moved it back, narrowing her eye as she focused in on movement. People. Casil let out a sigh of relief. Bandits too, from the looks of it. Which, admittedly, she couldn’t see much at this distance, but bandits tended to be easy to spot from their ragged attire. It certainly was no merchant caravan. No horses, no carts. Just people on foot. Traveling light from what she could see.

It was better than nothing. And certainly, it was nobody that was going to be missed. Casil lowered the spyglass, reaching over to give Sterlas’s arm a rough shake. He moved to swat her hand, earning him a dirty look from Casil before he grunted and sat up.

“What?” he grunted. “I was startin’ to doze.”

Casil held the spyglass out to him, letting him take it and bring it up to his eye before she leaned in to point him in the direction she’d been looking. He hummed, squinting and focusing the glass until he could pinpoint what Casil had seen. The redguard gave a low chuckle.

“Well, I guess it ain’t nothin’. What we got there…. Three… four bandits? Armed? Can’t imagine they ain’t,” he said, holding the toothpick between his teeth. He pulled the glass away, glancing to Casil. “What we goin’ for?”

‘Anything. All of it,’ Casil signed, moving to pull the burlap sacks in to hide them behind the rock.

Sterlas moved to help her, before settling down behind the rock. He tucked the spyglass into Casil’s bag, making sure it was safe with the bags. Once Casil was sure that everything was tucked away, she got up, glancing to where their victims were before casually making her way down to the road. It was time to be bait. She kicked over a log and plopped herself down on it, brushing the hem of her robe off before pretending to just be sitting and waiting for… something. Which wasn’t untrue, but it didn’t matter. All she needed was to look like a tiny, 4’10” bosmer woman alone on the road. She hated it, but a disappointing number of bandits fell for it.

Casil forgot how much the anticipation for what should only take 20 minutes felt like after spending hours waiting for absolutely anything. By the time the bandits had walked within earshot, Casil was about ready to just jump up and attack them. Sterlas looked like he was about in the same boat, given that she could make out the top of the redguard’s head peering around the rocks. She just hoped he didn’t blow their cover.

Four men, like they had counted initially. Two nords, a argonian, and an dunmer. Casil glanced at them, pretending to be timid and uneasy from where she sat on the log. The dunmer was the only one not wearing mis-matching leather armor, nor did he carry any visible weapon. A mage, probably. One of the nords and the argonian carried short swords at their side, and the other nord had a beaten-to-shit battle ax strapped to his back.

The battle ax wielding nord, who Casil took to be their leader, flashed Casil a disgusting smile. “Well, lookie here. Whatcha pretty little thing like you doing out here alone?” He purred, putting his hands on his hips as he approached Casil.

Casil had to swallow down a look of disgust, throwing a bashful look to the side instead. She said nothing, keeping her eyes to the ground. She could see a dark shadow move from behind the rocks, slipping to move behind the group of bandits as they moved to stand in a half-circle in front of her. She shrunk back, honestly uncomfortable with the crowd of men.

“Hey, did you hear him? He’s talking to you. Are you just going to be rude and not reply?” The argonian hissed, folding his arms as he leered down at Casil.

Casil looked up at them, narrowing her eyes a bit as the sun slanted into her eyes. It was extra work to do it like this, but it meant less damage sometimes. She didn’t shift her gaze to the dark mass that had moved right behind the men with surprising silence.

The leader gave her a scowl. “Are you not-”

His voice was cut off by a giant claw slamming into his side, ploughing him into the argonian before sending both of of them to the ground. The dunmer and nord jerked to turn, and Casil wasted no time in reaching out to grab the nord’s wrist. There was a sickly green glow around Casil’s hand before it faded into the nord’s skin, his immediate veins glowing for a brief moment before the nord stiffly fell to the ground with a look of shock. The dunmer jerked back, electricity forming around his hands in panic between his companion’s paralysis and… the werewolf taking out the other two.

The dark brown werewolf violently shook his head back and forth, the nord screaming as his arm was ripped from its socket. The argonian was trying to get up, struggling to reach for his sword. The werewolf’s yellow eyes locked on the lizard, letting go of the nord’s arm before barreling into the argonian instead. The beastfolk let out a strangled cry as the werewolf’s fangs found his neck, tearing out his jugular with one swift movement. There was a spray of blood as the werewolf slammed the argonian to the ground, tail wagging as he dug into the argonian’s body.

The dunmer threw a bolt of lightning at Casil, trying to get away from the chaos as quickly as he could. Casil threw her hands up, pushing her magicka forward into a barrier. The lightning bounced into it, fizzling out harmlessly before Casil returned the attack with a ball of fire. Unlike Casil, the dunmer didn’t block the attack with a mage shield, but the fire did little to him.

“Damn it!” He hissed, almost tripping over his robes. He looked back over his shoulder, trying to see if there was somewhere to run to. The field was open, but Casil was starting to step towards him, and the werewolf had turned to finish off his leader. The dunmer cursed sharply, before turning and booking it.

Casil cursed internally. The werewolf noticed the man running, ears perking up before he snapped his head up. The nord under his giant claws gurgled weakly, not quite dead yet, but he’d lost the monster’s attention. Casil didn’t even bother to try to tell the thing not to chase after him. He wouldn’t see it, and he wouldn’t listen. She sighed, stopping as the werewolf took off after the poor dunmer. He knocked the man to the ground, tail wagging in excitement as he moved rip into the elf. Casil ignored the man’s screams, turning back to the others. The argonian was dead, one nord was paralyzed, and the other was… not quite dead yet. Casil walked over to the dying man, putting her hands on her hips.

He wasn’t quite as lucky as his companion. Sterlas had been sloppy. The werewolf had bit into his shoulder, his lower teeth catching his throat in the process. One arm was twisted backwards and lay too far down, ripped out of its socket. The other appeared to be broken. The man looked up at Casil in pain and fear, blood bubbling out of the corner of his mouth. Casil narrowed her eyes. That was what he got. She reached into the sash around her waist, producing a knife. The panic in the man’s eyes only intensified, and his body gave a weak twitch in a hopeless attempt to get away. Casil didn’t hesitate to put the man out of his misery with one swift movement, before turning to the other nord. He hadn’t moved from where he’d collapsed after she’d paralyzed him, still staring up at the sky with a look of shock. Casil nudged his body with her foot, watching him tilt back and forth like a mannequin. Still paralyzed. She crouched down and dragged the blade across his neck, watching the man’s body until it went limp. Well, at least one of the bodies was unharmed. The other three… She glanced back over her shoulder to where Sterlas was. He was still hunched over the dunmer, and the sound of crunching bones was more than audible from across the field. One was better than none, she supposed.

Casil sighed, sticking the knife into some soft skin in the nord’s arm to hold it before she wipe her hands off on her robe. Casil stuck her fingers in her mouth, letting out a loud whistle to get Sterlas’s attention. The werewolf’s ears perked up, lifting his head to look over towards Casil. His muzzle was covered in viscera, and a strand of what Casil could only guess was intestine hung from his maw. She rolled her eyes, making a motion for him to come back over. Sterlas’s tail wagged before he picked up the corpse, dragging it over to where Casil was starting to drag the other three off the path.

One whole body, and three… pieces of bodies. Casil sighed as she worked, her hands moving skillfully as she cut flesh from bones. That was one of the downsides of Sterlas. She glanced over at the beast. The werewolf was laying down in the grass next to her, gnawing on one of the arms that had broken when he’d attacked.

‘You can’t hit so hard, Sterlas,’ Casil said, taking a moment from her work to sign to the werewolf. He was looking at her, but she doubted he understood or caught any of it.

His ears perked up, pausing in his chewing. He lifted his head, before going back to munching on the humerus.

She wiped her hand on a dirty rag before picking her knife again, working on shearing off another slab of arm muscle. It was a few more bones for her collection. She tossed the piece of flesh to a gathering of nearby ravens, letting the birds fight over the scrap. More birds circled overhead. Casil watched their shadows pass overhead as she tossed the mostly-clean bone into one of the burlap sacks. Good. The more scavengers, the better. It would scatter what she didn’t take. She didn’t need people worrying about a murderer waiting on these roads.

The burlap sacks had been organized into three piles - remains, meltables, and interesting. The remains sack had been double bagged to avoid leaks, and was now half full of mostly-cleaned humanoid remains. She wouldn’t bother cleaning them so much if it didn’t mean the bag would weigh significantly more, and Divines knew there was only so much her and Sterlas could carry. Maehaur, her horse, was waiting in the Whiterun stables with her cart, but he wasn’t something she could bring out to the wilderness and leave alone without asking for trouble on some end. She needed to make sure they could carry their loot to another location before she could pick it up with the cart.

And it was always the meltable bag that usually weighed the most. Today, it didn’t have much in it. Casil stripped off a layer of leather armor in disgust, tossing it to the side. Useless, and ruined. With that much blood, it would stiffen and warp. There was nothing that could be salvaged from it. And with no metal armor, the bag would weigh significantly less. The head of the battle ax and what few metal decorations had lined the wood shaft had been thrown in already along with both of the short swords and any daggers the men had on them, and now most of what was left to take from the men was whatever was hidden in their clothing. Certainly, it was all going to be less than what she made from the war.

That was the trade off, she supposed. Bodies, or metal. The civil war gave her lots of metal. Swords, armor, supplies. Casil followed the battles as closely as the ravens did, waiting to scavenge on what the birds and the foxes had little use for. And the supply was high. Of course, Casil had no doubt she wasn’t helping- when half of your armor and swords disappeared each battle, you were going to have to ask for more. And Casil happily provided bars of precious metal to those smiths needing to fill their quotas. They made the swords, the swords found the hands of soldiers, the soldiers fell in battle, Casil collected their weapons, melted them down, and sold them off again. Rinse, cycle, repeat.

And it was boring, and there was little surprise, and there was absolutely no way Casil was going to get away with stealing any amount of the bodies as well. The metal already weighed too much and was, frankly, too ludicrous to pass up for a corpse. Her need for human bones wasn’t that dire. But she had missed her work.

With the last limb cleaned, she straightened herself out and picked up one of the femurs that had been broken, tossing it to one of the wolves that loitered at the edge of the hill. The thin animal quickly grabbed it, trying to scamper away with it before another wolf noticed. A few ravens croaked before following after the wolf, trying to grab a piece of dangling flesh from the leg. Casil wiped her hands off, watching the wolf run away. The scavengers would scatter the remains of the bodies, and she doubted she would hear much of it. Nothing outside of the usual. These bandits had little on them, even as far as bandits went. The sack of interesting items had not changed in visible size- only a few interesting objects to note, like a half-decently crafted bone comb, a handful of small gemstones, and a book or two she hadn’t added to her collection yet. The jewelry they had was just as sparse, but Casil supposed that they at least had a decent amount of metal on them for being piss-poor bandits.

She clicked her tongue at Sterlas, catching his attention again. He snorted, trying to ignore the ravens that kept edging closer and closer to him to steal a bite of his food or to pull on his tail. She patted her side, motioning that it was time to pack up and go. The werewolf huffed, getting up as Casil sealed the bags. The sack with the body parts was the most important to seal well. The last thing she needed was for people to get suspicious of a bag that smelled of blood or rot. Both bags had been specially waterproofed with wax to help keep blood or decay from seeping out, and Casil did everything she could from drawing attention to herself for any bag that could get her into serious trouble. Being caught for smuggling and stealing metal right now was a far, far lighter sentence then being found with fresh human remains.

Sterlas picked up the two heavier bags, throwing them on his back. Now, it was just a matter of getting to the forest line where Sterlas could wait for Casil to return with Maehaur and the cart. And, hopefully, where he could turn back into a human after a few hours. Being caught with a werewolf was probably a nasty crime as well. Not that Casil knew for certain.

The ride home was quiet. The stables of Whiterun were dismally empty when Casil arrived to pick up her horse, and the road down to the southern side of Lake Ilinalta was equally quiet. They passed by a single farmer and his horse during the entire trip, which was fine with Casil.

Casil had holed herself up in a cabin on the edge of the lake, a good few miles from the next nearest home. Few people passed by, and her house was pushed far enough off of the main road that wandering eyes were highly unlikely to see what she was up to. The privacy was one of Casil’s favorite things about the home, besides the fact that it was a very roomy and nice cabin that was far outside of her price range.

Casil pulled the cart up to the side of the house, hopping out so she could lead Maehaur to his stables while Sterlas worked on unloading what little they had on their cart. Sterlas picked up the two bags that were intended to go inside, leaving them by the doorway before he went to pick up the last bag. With a face of disgust, Sterlas walked to the back of the house where the apiary sat- or at least, what had used to be a apiary. It had never been a apiary in the time Sterlas had been around Casil, and based off of the state of the structure and the area around it Sterlas had a feeling it hadn’t been used for its intended purpose in a good few decades. Instead of bees, a eternal swarm of flies and yellow jackets buzzed around the black ooze that dripped out of the various openings of the apiary. No matter how long he’d been there, the smell that wafted out of the structure always hit Stelas like a punch to the gut, and once more he found himself fighting back the contents of his stomach. He scrunched his nose, untying the bag before he quickly opened up the top. The various bones slid out of the bag and into the questionable slurry of bones and flesh with a disgusting plop before Sterlas slammed the lid back down, hurrying away to get a deep breath of fresh air with an exaggerated gasp.

Casil had just unlocked the door, in the process of picking up one of the bags to bring inside. She arched her brow at him, pushing the door open with her shoulder.

“Why do ya have to keep it in there?” Sterlas gasped, hands on his knees as he gave Casil a look of scrutiny.

Casil gave him a unimpressed look, before setting the bag back down. ‘Sterlas, you eat that. You have no room to talk,’ she stated, slinging the bag over her shoulder as she walked further inside the entry hall.

“Not like that! I eat it fresh. Just like eatin’ elk,” Sterlas said defensively, picking up the other bag as he followed Casil inside.

Casil didn’t speak again until she’d made it down into the basement. Heaps and piles of material were strewn across the floor, leaving just enough space to walk and navigate over to the forge that resided on the far side of the basement. Casil set down her bag, rustling through it to start sorting what they had found into their designated piles.

Sterlas meandered over after setting his bag down upstairs, picking up the shovel to help get the forge started up. “‘Bout time we melted this all down, eh?” He questioned, glancing back at Casil.

Casil glanced up as she pulled one of the short swords out, nodding. Her attention turned back to the blade to examine it. Her brow arched after a moment, turning it in her hands. Sterlas looked over his shoulder.

“What is it?” He questioned.

‘Imperial blade. Whiterun made. Probably my metal. Good to see i’m not the only one out raiding the fields,’ Casil signed after tossing the blade into a pile of iron.

Sterlas snorted, shoveling another pile of coal into the furnace before tossing the shovel back against the wall. He walked over, unhooking his leather armor to hang it up before catching a stool with his foot so he could sit down. “Well, it’s gonna go right back to Whiterun then,” he laughed, slapping his legs.

Casil silently chuckled, crumpling up the burlap bag once it was empty before tossing it to the side. She nonchalantly pulled off her shall and her robe, tossing them to the side as well before walking over to grab her work clothing. Sterlas stretched, used to it by now.

“I can’t believe this shit is still going. It’s been over five years and we ain’t any closer to a winner,” he groaned.

Casil glanced at him. ‘Are you complaining?’ she signed after pulling her pants up.

Sterlas chuckled. “No more than I imagine ya are. Borin’, but it ain’t turnin’ a bad profit. Sure beats shit i’d been doin’ before all of this,” he said, brushing his dreadlocks back.

Casil nodded in agreement. ‘Doesn’t matter who wins anyways. Both sides are garbage,’ she signed, finishing up her work outfit by slapping her apron and gloves on before going to check on the smelter.

Sterlas let out a hum. “Though, that begs the question. What will ya do when it ends?”

Casil shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Haven’t thought about it too much. Not that worried about it.’

A peaceful silence fell on the room, broken by the crackling of fire and the sound of metal being shifted. Sterlas leaned back on the stool, reaching up to fiddle with the tassels of some bag Casil had hanging from the wall. “Don’t get me wrong, we ain’t hurtin’ right now, but this gold ain’t gonna last forever if the war comes to an end.”

Casil looked up from the pile of metal, a frown on her face. ‘I’ll worry about it when the time comes. The war doesn’t seem to be close to ending any time soon.’

Sterlas watched as Casil carried a armful of daggers to her work bench next to the smelter. She started to pick the leather and wood off of the hilt, tossing the nonmetal material into a crate at her feet. He slowly teetered back and forth for a few minutes, watching her work before he rubbed his face. “Divines, I wish I could give as few fucks as ya do,” Sterlas finally chuckled, shaking his head.

Casil couldn’t help but smile a bit, giving Sterlas her noncommittal shrug. ‘Never have had a reason to,’ she replied, before tossing the metal of the dagger into the smelter.

[frillyfacefics]

The Knights’ Pet - Chapter 7

Fandom: Star Wars Rating: Explicit Relationships: Kylo Ren/Clan Techie, Kylo Ren/Armitage Hux (secondary) Warnings: Unhealthy Relationships, Abusive Relationships, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Non-Consensual Touching, Slavery, Body Horror (specifically eye-related body horror), Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm Chapter: 7/14

Also on AO3

Read the first chapter

Kylo meets Hux again for the first time since he brought Techie to the Temple.

The change of coming to the Finalizer after so much time in the Temple of Ren chafed at Kylo like a pair of ill-fitting boots. Surrounded by strangers instead of comrades, feared instead of understood, his nerves had always been on edge in the first few hours of adjustment. He had to remind himself to actually speak to people, to lay out plans with words instead of just thinking them and knowing that his will would be carried out. His Knights were extensions of himself, the arbiters of his intention, and without them he felt as if somebody had cut off his arms and legs.

Where the Temple felt like a living body, breathing the hot power of the Force, the Finalizer was a machine through and through. Everything on this ship seemed cold, methodical, clicking into their assigned places without ever understanding the bigger picture. The thought alone that not a single being on board of this ship knew the intoxicating feeling of making the Force yours, this one ecstasy Kylo had hunted his whole life, made him miss the endless corridors and winding bowels of the Temple.

But the First Order’s goals were the Knights’ goals, and if he wanted to see the day when the galaxy would be back to its imperial glory, under the leadership of Snoke, he would have to stop being a homesick little bitch and actually get things done.

The main briefing room was just off the bridge, so that Hux would not have to stay away from the center of his command for too long. The General was already there when Kylo entered, flipping through documents on his data pad. As always, every second that he couldn’t spend working was a lost opportunity. He would never know the insights mediation had given Kylo, the power of even a moment’s complete, motionless silence. But even though Hux would never hold this kind of power, just looking at him reminded Kylo again of the power the General had over him. And when those ocean green eyes looked up at the noise of his helmet’s closing mechanism clicking open and met his own eyes, he felt as if all the countless hours of meditation he had spent in his life had done nothing to prepare him for the gut-wrenching need that Hux created in him. If he was a true descendent of the Sith, if he was true to their teachings, he would be able to take this need and turn it into strength; but looking at General Hux’s face, the beautiful lines of his jaw and nose, the intensity of his eyes, he felt weak to the bottom of his heart. Even though every line and plane of his face was so identical to the pathetic, pity inspiring boy he had started to want, their tension, their set, was so different that for just a moment, he wondered how he could ever have seen Hux in Techie. Where Techie seemed to bruise from as much as a harsh look, Hux seemed to be able to withstand an explosion with the sheer force of his cool, single-minded will.

“Finally,” Hux said as he laid out the holo projector and started it, making the plans of the home of some important person he had to apprehend appear above the table. He started to lay out the mission objective and everything important that Kylo should know, but Kylo just couldn’t bring himself to really listen. His eyes were glued to Hux’ lips, but for quite a different reason than to not miss out on anything he was saying. His mind had wandered back to the last night, to the softness of Techie’s lips, the sweet, but slightly bitter taste of his mouth, to the way he had strained into his touch, so shy but also so eager…

He wondered if Hux would taste like Techie, if his tongue would be able to find their similarities as easily as his eyes. His body would be different, he knew that. He remembered the frail softness that had been evident in every part of Techie’s naked body on the medic’s examination table; he had never been starved, but the bad quality of the food he had eaten had turned his skin dry and discolored, had bloated his belly and rounded his thighs, had left his face puffy. Kylo had wanted to touch him to feel just how soft he was, to grab those hips and feel the give between his skin and his bone. And the sight of his ass…

Hux would be different, definitely. He had been brought up on nutrition bars and exactly measured rations, on drills and discipline, and even in his uniform it was obvious that every part of his body was trained to the exact degree Hux needed for it to function perfectly. There would be not a spare inch of skin, not a pound of fat to dig his fingers in; he would be all wiry muscles and sharp bones, as painful as delicious, so hard to break but so wonderful to own…

Suddenly a hand slapped the table top right in front of him. Kylo guessed that a part of him had noticed Hux coming closer, but since a far more active part of him had been completely consumed by the thought of his body, he had not judged this factoid important. But now he was standing right in front of him, looking down at him as if at a naughty student who he had noticed day-dreaming during class. His nostrils were flaring, and his lips became even thinner in his displeasure.

“When I am talking, I generally expect people to listen to me, Ren,” he hissed. “Especially when I am talking about a mission crucial for the success of the First Order.”

That voice… He was sure that Techie’s and Hux’ voice were just as similar as their noses and ears and chins, but at the same time few things seemed to put them so far apart. He could never imagine Techie speaking to him – or to anybody else – in such a tone, with a cold anger that showed just how much he felt entitled to everybody’s attention, everybody’s obedience. If it had been Techie he’d be ignoring, he’d just shrink back into the background, sure that he had done something wrong, waiting patiently to be acknowledged or punished or treated however Kylo saw fit. But Hux – Hux would pounce on any slight just to rub his General’s stripes into Kylo’s face.

He could see the anger growing in those green eyes glowering down at him, but there was something else, something that pushed its way through the anger and changed the lines of his face into something vicious, wicked.

“Have you completely lost your mind now?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

Kylo leaned back in his chair, looked up at Hux with what he hoped was a challenge in his eyes. “General, can you really not fathom the concept of somebody listening unless you get enthusiastic applause for every word?”

Hux raised his eyebrows at that, but let out a little noise that sounded nearly like a laugh. “You think you’re so clever, Ren…” he said, and then he was coming closer, bending down above him, looking into his eyes with a brazenness Kylo would have beaten out of anybody else. “Do you even realize how easy it is to read your face?”

And then there was a hand in Kylo’s hair, pulling down sharply, forcing his head back as Hux’ mouth descended upon his and crushed his lips in a brutal kiss. A surprised noise escaped Kylo, and the General used the opening of his mouth to push his tongue in, let it sweep over Kylo’s before he bit down hard on his lower lip.

When Hux drew back, still keeping his hold of Kylo’s hair, a vibrant, red smear of blood was visible on his pale lips. The General impaled Kylo with his gaze, then slowly drew his tongue over the blood.

“I am absolutely sick of all your pussy-footing, Ren,” he said in a low, growling voice, then he gave Kylo’s hair another sharp tug. He could feel how the General’s strong fingers weaved through his hair, winding it around his hand. Kylo grit his teeth, but didn’t fight, just stared up into those water green eyes. “I thought you would have made your attentions clear months ago, really, but obviously you are either a lot more indecisive or cowardly than I would have thought.” He bent down again, and Kylo thought he would kiss him once more, but then he just stayed an inch away from his lips, their noses just shy of touching. “If you had even one courageous bone in your body, if there was more to you than just your freakish powers, you would have pushed me against a wall months ago, Ren. I know how much you wanted to do that…”

Kylo’s head was spinning. He was so close to Hux that the smell of his skin, of his regulation shampoo, of his shaving soap, was clouding his mind, and those words were pushing their way into him, filling an empty space in him he had not even known existed. He knew he was insulting him, but it was different than their usual spats. Every single one of his acidic words was laced with a poison of unfamiliar sweetness, and he wanted to kiss his mouth so badly again…

But just when Hux started to move closer again, the General’s comm-link beeped, and he stood up again, let go of Kylo’s hair and left him alone with the sharp sting in his scalp and even more painful hunger in his soul.

“The mission schedule has changed,” Hux said after he had checked the message. “You will have to go right away – apparently our target has gotten intel of our plans. Your transport leaves in T minus five.”

Still dazed, Kylo nodded and stood. But just when he was about to turn around, Hux’ hand caught his shoulder. Kylo looked back, and felt himself burn up in the General’s gaze. “We will continue this later,” he said. Then he turned around and let Kylo leave the meeting room.

~*~

Techie was going through his very first in-depth check of the security system when another technician came into the room.

“Hey Sizzly,” the tech, a dark-haired girl with her goggles shoved up on her forehead, greeted the head-technician, then she nodded towards Techie. “Is that the newbie?”

Sizzly, who was half-hidden inside another droid she was repairing, just gave a low grunting sound and something that might have been interpreted as a nod as reply. Techie had come to like her in the two days he had been working with her, but he had very early on figured out that if she was immersed in a task, nothing short of an explosion could get her out of it.

Which was likely why she had given up the job of security-center tech so freely. You had to be pretty on your feet for that kind of work. Of course, you also had to be able to just sit around for hours without anything happening, which also didn’t seem to be Sizzly’s kind of thing.

The tech smiled at him and came up to his chair. Techie made to stand up, but she just waved her hand at him to stay seated. “Hi! I need your comm-link real quick.”

Her jovial, friendly tone took Techie a little aback. He wasn’t the best at meeting new people, and this girl’s way of talking gave him the feeling as if he had already met her, but didn’t remember. And he couldn’t say that he liked that a lot.

“Why?” he asked, a little bit more suspicious sounding than he had wanted it to come out.

“I’m looking into your little Rancor adventure,” she said, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Techie could feel himself bristle – he still didn’t really want to think about last night (had it really only been last night?), and honestly, he didn’t like the thought that people he had never seen before knew stuff like that about him.

“And I’ve already checked the door to Lady Kashti’s quarters,” she continued, “and since nothing’s wrong there, I figured it’s more likely than not that something is wrong with your comm-link. So, can I have it?” If she had noticed the defensive tone in his voice, she didn’t let anything on.

“Alright,” he finally said and took it out of the breast-pocket of his black uniform jacket. The girl took it and then opened a little satchel she was wearing on her belt, from which she pulled a connection cord; then she unclipped a datapad from the other side of her belt and put it down on an empty surface next to the security console, plugging the cord into both the comm-link and the datapad.

From his chair, Techie couldn’t see what she was doing on her datapad, but it only took her half a minute or so to let out a relieved sigh.

“Okay,” she said, “I know what happened. Whoever calibrated this link put Lady Krel’s name into the wrong tag. She should be in the ‘issued by’ and the ‘authority’ tags, not the ‘proprietor’ tag. That’s why the door thought you were Lady Krel, and Lady Krel has access to Lady Kashti’s place.”

She made some inputs, then she unplugged the cord and gave the link back to Techie with a broad smile. “So. You can still enter Lady Krel’s and Lord Kanar’s places, but this should keep you from accidentally messing up the diet plans of any more of Lady Kashti’s pets.”

She gave him a wink at that, which actually made a smile rise on Techie’s face. And honestly, that was a feat – he couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled. It felt pretty strange.

“Oh, by the way,” she said as she stuffed the cord back into her satchel. “I’m Eff. I mean, actually I’m Effeffiffa, but nobody’s called me that since my father. It’s a generational thing, you know? My grand-grandfather was Eff, my grandfather Effeff, my mother Effeffi, so now I’m Effeffiffa.” She grinned again, and Techie smiled back. “Nice to meet you, newbie. What’s your name?”

Suddenly his smile faltered, and he looked at the security console again. In this environment – with two other technicians in the same room – he felt just how stupid his ‘name’ actually was.

He just really wished he had a real name.

“I…” he started, then cleared his throat, “I don’t really have…” He bit his lip and glanced at Eff, who was starting to frown slightly. “People used to call me ‘Techie’, so I guess that’s my name… kinda…”

Eff’s frown deepened for a moment, but then her eyes widened and her mouth formed a silent little ‘O’. But just a moment later she seemed to shake off whatever feeling she was showing on her face and smiled again. “Are you like, super married to that name? Because I mainly need people’s names to yell at them through hallways, and since you’re also in security, I’m likely going to have to yell at you quite a bit, and if I just yell ‘Techie’ around here I’m pretty sure everybody would think I’m talking to them.”

Techie, taken aback, just stared at her.

“I mean, like, if I gave you a nickname? Would that be okay?” she asked again, a little bit more subdued this time, though the smile was still on her lips.

He couldn’t help but feel suspicious again.

“Like what?”

“Like…” She paused and looked at him intently, obviously thinking. “Red, maybe? I mean, I’m pretty sure you’re the only red-haired tech around here, so there’d be no potential for confusion.”

Techie stayed silent for a moment, thinking. ‘Red’ wasn’t so bad, was it? It was descriptive, but not pejorative. He could live with that.

“Alright,” he said, and tried on another smile for her.

“Great!” Eff said with a grin, then she took her datapad. “I’ll see you in the mass hall tonight?”

“Uhm… Sure?” Krel had told him to eat there tonight anyway, and the thought that he might actually already know somebody in what would likely be a sea of unfamiliar faces gave him a slightly fuzzy feeling.

“Wonderful. See you tonight!” And with that, Eff left the room.

Techie still felt the unfamiliar pull of smiling in his cheeks as he turned back to his security screenes.