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justporo · 4 months

Note

Could I request no. 44 (Public Kisses) please?

Maybe the kisser proving the kissee that they don’t care who’s watching and that they’re proud to be with them

(with either Astarion being worried about Tav being seen with ‘an undead’ or Durge worrying about Star being seen with a Bhaalspawn).

Thank you!

Last one for the kiss prompts - allow me to take the "not caring who watches" a bit further even. I fully didn't intend this to become this long (like always...) but here we are... Oh, and then I edited it and it became even longer. Enjoy Tav making clear they belong to Astarion and vice versa!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) | Wordcount: 2,2k | Warnings: light mention of violence / Act 2 spoilers

MASTERLIST | AO3

Affirmations

Everyone was staring - all the time.

It wasn't enough already that, entering Moonrise Towers again, meant venturing deep into the lion's den. But to add to this you couldn't even go unnoticed.

Of course not, you were a True Soul! In touch with the Absolute itself! Destined for great things! So there wasn't a single moment without a pair of eyes upon you. And you hated it - deeply.

Quite frankly, it seemed like the primary requisite to becoming a cultist of the Absolute was being way too fucking nosey. But you had to be honest with yourself you were at least partly to blame with the scene you had caused with this godsdamned drow yesterday.

Just thinking about her made your blood boil again. Just the way she had looked at you, but most of all Astarion. The arrogance, the unquestioned privilege - it immediately conjured another wave of bile rising up within you.

If not for the sake of the greater mission you would have very much liked shredding her to pieces so she would have never been able to even look at Astarion again. You would have done it with a pleasant smile on your face. But alas, it would have only complicated matters even further

Your visceral reaction had been surprising even to you. Normally you weren’t one for excessive blood shed. Actually you much more liked solving things without weapons: talking your way out of situations, tricking others. That was much more your style. But your bloodlust, brought on by a powerful urge to protect Astarion, had almost taken the better of you yesterday.

It had shaken you; not least your companions as well - and most of all Astarion.

All the way back to camp the vampire had been barely able to hide his wild mix of feelings - shock, admiration, insecurity. You had felt his wide red eyes on you the whole time and had known that something was about to happen. A tipping point had been reached.

But you hadn't even remotely been prepared for what had followed when Astarion had approached you when everyone else had already retired to their tents for the evening.

On the other end of the night the two of you had come out with a new layer added to your bond: fresh still, barely fully formed - but fueled by both of your deep desires to hold onto the other and not let go.

Immediately, it had been weird for the two of you after. The next morning you had barely been able to look at each other. Simply because this was daunting for either of you. Hells, not even the two of you knew how to go on from this but you were determined to make it work. And unsteadiness had quickly turned to small glances, short touches in passing as you all got ready for a new day ahead, affirming smiles - and some suspicion from your fellow companions.

When you had made your way back to the godsdamned towers you had felt uneasiness rise up again, tendrils of negative feelings forming a tight knot in your chest.

And in an overly brave moment you had grabbed for Astarion's hand when you had been about to enter the towers again - repeating a gesture from last night. Wishing to feel same kind of warmth and steadiness again and also relaying the same sentiment to the vampire you saw slightly nervously move his head to loosen the tension in his neck.

It had made the vampire almost recoil as he looked at you with shocked wide eyes and you were sure you had heard a surprised gasp from your other companions behind you. But when you had tried to let go again, immediately regretting your short-circuit action, you found that Astarion had been lightly holding on to your hand and had thrown you a small smile. You would have called it coy with anyone else but him.

The gesture hadn’t gone unnoticed by Lae’zel whose eyes had been steadily narrowed at the both of you from there on out.

Only when you had come across the first guards had Astarion let go, but not without squeezing your hand in his a last time.

You had stayed close to each other walking through the headquarters of the Absolute, trying to investigate this damned place further. An unsettling feeling was filling all of you but the only thing you could do was trying to pull through.

In the main hall - Ketheric's throne thankfully empty - most of the cultists had gathered for some strategy discussion. So, an excellent opportunity to listen in on them and maybe find someone to squeeze for some more information.

Thankfully, Gale and Shadowheart had somewhat taken the lead today giving you and Astarion some time to recover from everything that had happened. You were standing next to the vampire - your partner now, you reminded yourself - stealing glances up at him from time to time. He usually caught you while he stood there, arms crossed over his chest, throwing you a small smile in response that always made you turn away again, slightly blushing. But then you also noticed him peering at you out of the corner of his eyes. And despite your dire situation as a whole you couldn’t help but feel a little giddiness inside of you - maybe all wasn’t lost after all.

At the moment, Gale was talking to another higher-up drow, trying to convince her to give up some more details about Ketheric Thorm. She very much was having none of it, but the wizard kept deliberately trying. Shadowheart, meanwhile, did next to nothing to keep him from verbally digging his own grave.

It was then that you felt the hairs of your neck stand up and felt someone staring at you. With a sinister suspicion, you turned to look over your shoulder to find: Araj Oblodra looking at you angrily. The drow from the day before was openly staring at the two of you, after having just entered the hall, wearing a massive displeased snarl on her face.

You immediately felt your own face sour, a deep fold forming between your furrowed brows. At your negative reaction Astarion’s brows drew together quizzically and he looked over his shoulder as well. When he found what you were looking at his nose scrunched up in distaste, mirroring you closely. You even heard a low growl rumble in his chest. Had he been unsure yesterday how to react you had worked wonders to help him draw a line. Astarion’s repulsion was radiating off him, almost physical.

The drow kept staring. And so did you - not willing to give her the impression that her presence was bothering you.

Moments became minutes while Gale kept rambling with some half-hearted support from Shadowheart (the rest of the group staying painfully silent). Meanwhile, others noticed the silent staring contest across the room. Even more pairs of eyes were observing you now. Probably everyone here knew to the tiniest detail what had gone down yesterday. And the longer this moment was drawn out, the more you felt your grip on your emotions slip. One of your hands had formed into a fist at your side - nails biting into the flesh of your palm and leaving crescent moon indents behind.

Then an idea, or just an impulse really, sprung to your mind. Your eyes jumped to Astarion who was still staring down Araj through his brows, crimson eyes sparkling dangerously. One of his hands had casually wandered to the dagger at his side, wrist languidly resting on its hilt. A leisure threat, but an open one.

“Astarion,” you whispered silently to him, “you trust me, yes?”

The vampire’s brows furrowed a bit more, gaze flitting to you, then back to the drow still glaring at you.

“Of course, my love. Why-,” he began and quickly looked at you again. Then he interrupted himself. He must’ve seen your intention on your face and now he turned his head to fully look at you. His fingers unconsciously clenched around the pommel of his dagger now, focused on something entirely else than making barely hidden threats.

You threw him a questioning glance as you took a deep breath. He lightly nodded, a soft smile curling up one side of his mouth while he turned to you.

And then, before you would get too scared, you moved to grab Astarion’s face with both hands, stepped even closer to him and stood on your tiptoes to reach for his lips with your own.

There was another short moment before your mouths met in the kiss: his full lips slightly parting, his eyes open almost vulnerable, glinting with something much different from the anger before, if not less passionate.

A shaky breath left you as you stared up at him. You knew you must be pretty much mirroring his expression at this moment.

And you were sure that this, all of this, had been the right decision.

Then your lips met. A sigh immediately wandered from your mouth to his as Astarion kissed you open-mouthed, softly opening up yours. Then his tongue shortly ran over your lips, then entered your mouth, taking up yours in a dance you were already familiar with.

Astarion’s arms moved around you. He placed his hands on your hips but immediately let them wander to your behind to pull you closer to him, making you almost slam into his body. You felt him grinning as he did that. A yelp left your mouth, pleasantly surprised by his initiative, but didn’t break the kiss for a single moment.

You had done this dozens over dozens of times, almost the exact same motions. It had been enticing and electrifying each time, enjoying each time it had happened.

But this was different. Everyone’s eyes were on you. You were making it very official what you were to each other. Not only to your friends but for the whole world to see. And in that sense it felt very much like a first kiss altogether.

The passion was there, as Astarion kept deepening the kiss, turning his head, looking at you intensely as you batted your eyes open for a short moment. His hands were stroking up and down your back while yours had entered his hair, tugging on some curls, pulling his head closer.

Somewhere in the middle you had almost forgotten that you weren’t alone. You felt him smile as you desperately wanted to keep going. Gods, you never wanted to let go again.

But Astarion slightly withdrew, his lips hovering slightly over yours, looking at you through his lashes. His voice was sinful. “Think we’ve given them enough of a show, darling?”

You frowned, shook your head. And without another word you pulled him in again as you heard a low laughter from him vibrate through his chest and by proxy through your body as well. He was intoxicating and he knew it. You’d given him the room to start feeling good about it. And you were merely getting started.

The kiss went on for another few moments although becoming softer now, slower. Less a show than a treat for the two of you. Then you softly lifted your mouth from his and looked up at him: breathless and a little shaky now, but a wicked smile already forming on your lips from the passionate kiss as you were still on your tiptoes.

Astarion mirrored your smirk before he pressed a quick peck to the tip of your nose - in just a whim of the moment. His arms were still firmly around you, holding you close to him. You kept smiling at him.

And then your smile grew icy and vicious as you turned to Araj who was looking at you in shock now. You let your tongue run over your bared teeth as you kept up the eye contact, daring her. And eventually the drow turned away, unsettled while your grin grew even broader.

You noticed that almost everyone else around you had also turned away from the public show of passionate affection. Only some still dared to look at you out of the corner of their eyes.

A victorious smile crept onto your face as you looked at Astarion again who looked at you with his signature smirk and a keen sense of pride he didn’t even try to hide.

Then, after a while, you turned to the other side.

And were faced with your friends staring at you in disbelief, just blinking at the two of you. Even the unshakable Lae’zel looked slightly irritated, not being able to hold your gaze for long

“Hot!” Karlach exclaimed, her expression of shock quickly turning to a smug, broad grin. And in true Karlach fashion she gave you a thumbs-up and a wink - causing you to blush and bite your lip. “Get a tent, am I right?”

You must have gone a little overboard with your public display of your newly formed bond. Your heart dropped a little. But Astarion only softly laughed at that and affectionately bit into the tip of your pointy ear. Seemingly the ice for public displays of affection had been broken for him - with a cannonball.

“So, you guys are official now?”, Wyll asked while cocking his head, looking kind of sceptical. Shadowheart just rolled her eyes, while Gale seemed stuck in a state of being too flustered to react.

“I guess you could say that, little lord”, Astarion answered, grinning smugly, one eyebrow twitching and pulled you to his chest again with one arm casually around your waist. He couldn’t keep a proud tone out of his voice as he looked down at you again.

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3 #kiss prompts

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 3 months

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A Pirates Life For Me

Pairings: father Killian Jones x child/teen!reader

Imagine: what it would be like to be Killian Jones child

Warnings: none really, mostly fluff, and Killian Jones being the best father ever, I guess there’s some spoilers for those who haven’t watched all seasons I guess, mention of when he died, NOT proofread yet

A/N back to writing ya’ll (hopefully), thought I’d start it of easy with some headcanons, so a few other will come out too but this is the first because recently I’ve been obsessing over Killian again along with Obi-Wan Kenobi and Hunter (from tbb)

Side note half of this got deleted and couldn’t really remember what I wrote so it’s definitely not as good as the first draft

First things first you were raised on the Jolly Roger, you would most probably grow up as a pirate, and when old enough you’d help him fighting against the other pirates that would attack you at times

I’m sorry but you’re gonna have to deal with wearing dark colored clothes, he doesn’t do light color therefore neither do you at least until you’re old enough to decide for yourself what clothes you want

You’d beg Killian to buy you the biggest hat ever as you read somewhere that pirates has hats, he never bought you that hat… he did steal a tiny hat that fit you perfectly though…

He was scared to death that he would be like his own father, but don’t worry he’s both like that he’s the best and he’d never leave you like that

Your initials are written beside the wheel (you know where he wrote with his hook for Bae/Neal)

Things you carved into the ship as a kid can still be seen in the most random places

He childproofed the ship, put child locks on nearly every cabinet not knowing if it was child appropriate things in them as the crew would put their things in random places, he did not find the thought of you finding a knife, sword, or gun and accidentally hurt yourself very comforting

Adopted child, biological child, doesn’t matter he loves you the same.

Depending on when you were born you might of watched The Dark One rip the heart out of your father’s lover

One of many traumatic events

Killian values you more than anything else, if he had to choose between revenge or you, he’d always choose you, he’d do anything for you even if it meant him dying

He still knows how to say no to things though

He made a mental list in his head on things he would teach you

1. How to sail

2. How to navigate with stars

3. Sword fighting

4. How to survive on Neverland (just in case Pan decided to kidnap you or something to mess with him)

5. How to escape from Neverland

6. What plants are poisonous or not

7. Do not make deals with the dark one

And then the list goes on and on, he would want to teach you everything he knows about everything really, he just doesn’t want you to make the same mistakes he did, or to end up being a villain as he wants you to get your happy ending

Somewhere along the road you got dragged into wanting to help your father get revenge, nearly succeeded in multiple occasions, but as it turns out villains don’t really get their revenge

You once made the crew find a hook and clothes similar to Killian’s and later on that day you’d run up to Killian, hand clutching a hook and act as if you were the captain of the ship, imitating your father (with a really bad “adult” voice). He would let out a wide smile, eyes twinkling and a soft gaze as he looked down at you trying to reach the wheel. He’d eventually pick you up and let you steer the destination as he helped you turn the wheel the other way than he had set the course too. This was also the first time he taught you how to sail. Or somewhat, it wasn’t like you took much of the information in as you soon got bored and went to watch over the railing at the crashing waves.

Btw I’m tired of fics where Captain Hooks child likes Peter Pan, why because a parents ideals usually sets with the child, meaning you’d probably hate Peter Pan and Rumplestiltskin as much as your father does

He would tell you stories of his older brother and how he was a hero and he wished you’d met him, you would eventually in hell though later as you went to rescue your father so that’s fine, turns out he wasn’t the hero your father made him out to be, but that’s fine you only need one hero and that’s your dad

He would also tell you stories of his adventures, it made for quite the long entertaining tales as he tucked you into bed, kissing your forehead before continuing his story which he altered to be a bit more child friendly and a bit more dramatic

He lets you have some of his clothes when he’s going away for a long time because he knows you’ll miss him

He lets you wear his jackets/coats, you freezing he’s already put his jacket/coat over you, even if they’re too big for you , he loves how adorable you look in it as he’s reminded that you’re still just a child and he doesn’t want you to grow up

He’d try to teach you how to paint, might succeed might not still he loves the bonding time he’s good at painting in any universe you can’t tell me otherwise

He hates seeing you hurt

If you get hurt on a raid he’d made sure whoever hurt you would suffer, you want him kiss the injury better, he’d do so in a heartbeat even if it meant his reputation would falter slightly

He starts dating someone else (Emma) he’d make sure that person treated you right, if not he’d dump said person

If he founds out you like someone he wouldn’t be overprotective, he’d still be protective but he’d mostly be supportive. He’d tease you about it until it became annoying, he’d encourage you and give you advice (even if most of his advice failed)and if it failed he’d be there to comfort you through it all

You’d blame Emma for turning Killian into a dark one and you’d blame Emma for Killian’s death

When you rescued Killian from hell he promised you he’d never die again if not of old age and that he’d never take of his good luck ring ever again as you thought he jinxed it by giving it to Emma

You were glad for his sake when he married Emma just because you saw your father happy with someone else again and not just grieving and seeking revenge for his ex lover

He hugs surprisingly great, he’s like your human sized pirate teddy bear

He misses the times when you would come into his room late at night after a nightmare and crawl under the covers and cuddle close to him, not because you had a nightmare but because he liked that you knew you would always be safe with him

He would hate that you’d have nightmares after his death and you no matter what age you are in would sometimes go into his room to make sure he was still alive and maybe even sleep beside him, he’d wake up to you sprawled out over the whole bed clutching his side tightly as if you were afraid he’d disappear

Will make sure you get your happy ending

He’s just father material it’s as simple as that (just look at Nook, love Nook though but original Hook is the best)

#Killian Jones #x reader #x you #x y/n #x child!reader #x teen!reader #killian jones x daughter!reader #killian jones x fem!reader #killian jones x teen!reader #killian jones x reader #Captain Hook #captain hook x reader #ouat x reader #Killian jones x gn!reader #Killian jones x child!reader #Killian jones x son!reader

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insecure-neurotic-control-freak · 1 year

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Teen Wolf Movie: Post Credits Scene

Obviously the below is not a real post credits scene... just me needing to air my frustration somehow. I did not watch the Teen Wolf movie, and now have no intention to. I got all my information from seeking out spoilers online so I'd know if it was worth the watch. Felt the need to write this because my soul hurts. Apologies if I got some minor details wrong from the movie, but I'm not fussed about being canon compliant when the canon doesn't deserve to be complied with ;)

Eli is woken from a fitful sleep by the sound of his bedroom window sliding open. He doesn’t turn his head to identify the intruder, completely uncaring if they are there to hurt him or console him. It wouldn’t matter. Not anymore.

He wonders briefly if Scott or Allison would be able to make it to his room before he was fatally injured by the potential assailant, then closes his eyes in defeat when he remembers they’re not home. They’re never home anymore.

“Hey, pup.”

Eli shoots into a sitting position at the sound of Stiles’ voice. He catches a flash of a red hoodie and finds himself all but collapsing into the arms suddenly surrounding him. The sounds he is making aren’t human and his breath is coming in rough spurts, but he finally, for the first time since his dad’s death, feels completely safe in Stiles’ embrace. Safe enough to fall apart.

Stiles offers no empty words of comfort or platitudes, simply holds the boy in his arms. Once Eli regains his breath, Stiles pulls back just enough to see Eli’s face and speaks again.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” he says, brushing some hair off of Eli’s forehead so he can see his eyes.

Eli sniffles and wipes the tears off his face.

“He’s gone, Stiles,” he whispers hoarsely.

Stiles pulls them to their feet and wraps his arms around Eli’s shoulders. They take comfort in the embrace for several more minutes. Eli’s eyes water, but no more tears fall.

“Eli, buddy, look at me,” Stiles says as he takes a step back, towards the open bedroom door. He waits until Eli looks up before continuing. “Do you trust me?”

The boy can only nod, not trusting his voice.

Stiles sends him a rueful smile and holds out his hand. He leads Eli downstairs and out the door, huffing a laugh when he sees the Jeep parked in the driveway.

“How’s Roscoe doing these days?” Stiles asks as he runs his hand over the hood.

Eli clears his throat twice before he can answer. “Okay. Da - Dad fixed as much as he could.”

He sees a brief look of devastation overtake Stiles’ face before they climb in, but it’s gone as Stiles holds out his hand for the keys. Stiles frowns when Eli simply points to the visor above the driver’s seat, and sends him a well-deserved eye roll when the keys drop into his lap from above when he opens it.

They drive in silence until they reach their destination. It only takes Eli a few minutes to realize where they’re headed, but he says nothing. Stiles asked for his trust, and he has it. He’s always had it.

When they park, Eli exits the car on shaky feet. He can’t bring himself to look up and see his dad’s grave only a few yards away.

“Why are we here?” He asks quietly.

Stiles braces himself, taking several deep breaths before responding. “There’s something I didn’t tell you or your dad before I left after my last visit. I,” he pauses and take a few steps towards Derek’s grave. “I had a - a feeling.”

Eli moves to stand next to Stiles, still not looking at the grave. “A feeling?”

Stiles sniffles and Eli realizes he’s trying not to cry. Stiles coughs roughly and wipes at his face, turning it so Eli can’t see the tears.

“A feeling,” he repeats. “Like I might never see him again.”

The silence hangs heavy between them for several minutes until Stiles sees Eli shiver in the cool night air.

“Only wolf I know who gets cold,” he says fondly, removing his hoodie and wrapping it around the boy. Eli takes it gratefully and sends Stiles a cautious smile. Stiles musses his hair and then nods towards Derek’s grave. “Ready?”

Eli frowns. “Ready? Ready for what?”

Stiles doesn’t answer right away, but Eli follows him readily. They pause in front of the plot and Stiles can’t help but shake his head. After everything Derek gave to the pack, they couldn’t even be bothered to give him a proper grave site. Just a plot of dirt with some wilted flowers and withered ribbons.

“I’ve spent the last year working on this,” Stiles says, pulling a small sealed jar out of his pocket. He opens it and holds it up for Eli to smell.

Eli’s head rears back in shock at the scent. “That - that smells like Dad. How did you do that?”

Stiles snorts. “Not easily.” He holds the jar under his nose and smiles as he takes in the earthy, homey aroma. “Drove me crazy for about three months when I was so close, but knew I was missing something. You know what it was?”

Eli shakes his head, leaning forward to inhale the scent again.

“Cinnamon,” Stiles says, still smiling.

“From those ‘frilly little coffee drinks’ he used to love but pretended to hate,” Eli finishes, smiling himself. “What does it do?”

Stiles sobers and takes another slow, deep breath. “When I got back to D.C., I could’t shake that feeling. Anytime I checked in with him, he’d insist he was fine and the pack was doing well. He just kept telling me not to worry. But you know me,” he flung out his arm, gesturing to himself.

“Stiles,” Eli says, stepping forward into the man’s space, his expression serious. “What does it do?”

Stiles looks down at the jar in his hand and his breathing seems to stop.

“You trust me?” Stiles asks again.

“Yes,” Eli replies quietly.

“It’s going to bring him back to us.”

As if he can’t bear to see Eli’s reaction, Stiles turns suddenly and upends the jar, sending its contents spilling onto the disturbed earth below. The words he whispers to the dirt are lost in the sudden gust of wind, but the fervor with which they are spoken causes Eli to shiver and jump to action.

“What can I do?” He asks once Stiles is finished chanting.

Stiles pulls out a pocket knife and hands it to him. “We only need a few drops.”

Eli nods seriously and steels himself before cutting a small incision into his left palm. He holds out the hand and allows Stiles to direct the stream of blood over the grave.

Stiles takes a second to grip Eli’s shoulder before giving himself an identical cut and letting the blood spill on top of Eli’s.

They both step back to the foot of the grave, completely silent. The wind continues to howl. The sound grows louder and louder until suddenly it turns into an entirely different kind of howl. One they both recognize immediately.

“It’s Dad,” Eli says in amazement. “Does that mean it worked? Stiles, did that just work?”

Stiles doesn’t dare speak, just closes his eyes and allows himself to become lost in the howling. Howling he thought he’d never hear again. The pressure of unshed tears causes him to open his eyes just as the ground at their feet starts to move.

“Oh my god,” Eli shouts, running two steps forward just as a hand breaks free from the earth.

He grabs the hand and begins to pull frantically. Stiles gets over his shock and disbelief quickly enough to join Eli as he starts to dig at the ground around the hand.

Seconds later, Derek is free. And alive.

His eyes glow crimson and he lets out a roar that can be heard for miles around. He is panting as he stands to full height and looks around to orient himself.

Derek barely has time to realize his son is nearby before he finds himself with his arms full. Eli is shaking with the effort of his iron-clad grip, but no force on this Earth could get him to let go of his dad.

“Eli,” Derek says, returning the embrace just as fiercely. “Eli, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

They whisper reassurances and apologies to each other for what feels like hours. Their eyes are closed and their knuckles white from the force of their grasps.

Derek suddenly gets a lungful of a scent he wasn’t expecting, and realizes Eli is wearing Stiles’ hoodie. His eyes fly open and begin searching the clearing frantically.

He sees Stiles standing several steps away, tears flowing down his face and his body trembling.

“Stiles,” Derek whines, opening one of his arms and beckoning for him desperately.

It was all Stiles needed before running to join the embrace, the three of them all opening crying in the moment. His arms wrap tightly around both Hales as they all regain their breath and their equilibrium.

Eli pulls away first, rubbing at his face and clearing it of tears. He takes a step back but keeps his hand on his dad’s arm, not wanting to break contact. Derek sends him a warm smile and shakes his head at himself in disbelief that he’s alive.

“Derek,” Stiles whispers, adjusting his grip on the man.

Derek’s still-red eyes turn to meet Stiles’, and everything is understood in an instant without a need for words. He leans into Stiles’ space and presses their foreheads together. They stay like that, perfectly content, until Eli breaks the silence.

“Okay, I know you guys are, like, having a moment,” he laughs as he ducks both Stiles and Derek’s attempts to swat him in the back of the head. “But I’m not getting any warmer. Any chance we can move this reunion indoors?”

Stiles rolls his eyes but can’t contain his grin. He groans and pulls away with one final squeeze of Derek’s hand. A silent promise they would pick this up later.

“Are you sure you’re a werewolf?” Stiles goads Eli as he messes up the boys hair.

“He’s got a point, Eli,” Derek intones, rounding the two so he and Stiles are bracketing Eli on their walk back to the car. “Maybe a were-lion? Something less acclimated to colder weather.”

Eli whines, looking back and forth between the two in mock-outrage. “Stiles, I thought we had a deal. We’re supposed to gang up on him,” he says indignantly, pointing his thumb at his dad. “Not on me!”

Stiles nudges Eli with his shoulder. “You’re right, pup, a deal’s a deal. I think we can give your dad a pass though just this one night.”

Eli smiles softly. He reaches out and grabs his dad’s hand in a way he hasn’t since he was small. “I guess so.”

Derek and Stiles share a grin over Eli’s head.

“So,” Stiles says cheerily to Eli as they reach the Jeep. “What do you say we go grab Grandpa and get the hell out of this town once and for all?”

#teen wolf spoilers #teen wolf movie #teen wolf #Sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #eli hale #fix it

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ninothebirb · 20 days

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WE WERE ONCE ONE

Content Warning: Unrequited love, angst, fluff?, lore drops, spoilers, wonky writing, unhealthy obssesion, mental trauma, etc. Please reader Chapter 1, Chapter 2, and prologue if you haven't already for the best experience!

Chapter 3: Dan Heng

When Jing Yuan had informed you of Dan Feng being on the loufu, you were immediately ready to go and meet him. This continues on from when the two of you reach scalegorge waterscape from a starskiff.

Jing Yuan had accompanied you on the starskiff that took the two of you to scalegorge waterscape. The two of you kept your mouth zipped throughout the ride, the awkward silence settling in for just a matter of few minutes. The very moment the starskiff stopped at the destination, you spotted the imbibitor lunae- no...Dan feng, talking to a grey haired girl. "Go on..." He gave you a nudge, letting you get off the starskiff and approach the Vidhyadara Prince.

You looked back at Jing Yuan for a second, a little bit of anxiety flooded over your body as you took a deep breath. Meeting your long gone lover after a long time felt so exhilarating and overwhelming that you couldn't help but feel worried. What if he didn't want you anymore-? What if he had moved on? What if he...didnt remember you?

Jing Yuan noticed your hesitation, so he took matters in his own hands. He grabbed your hand and gently dragged you over to the Imbibitor Lunae who was talking to a grey haired person. "Dan Heng, this is (reader). They wished to talk to you...alone." Dan Heng? Since when was he Dan Heng..? Whatever- he was here and that mattered. The grey haired girl waved at you and left with Jing Yuan to converse in a corner.

"What is it you wanted to say?" His voice was so addictive, that same gentle tone he always used when he held you in his arms, or when he comforted you in your worst. "W-well- I...do- do you remember me...?" You mentally cursed yourself for stuttering, and for asking such a ridiculous question.

"No...? I've been told I used to be the vidhyadara prince, however you do look quite familiar. I still have some vague ideas of my old companion's faces in my head." He talked so robotically, like his voice had monotoned itself and all the emotion just left. What had become of him while he was away? And did he really not remember you?

"I'm- ..." You couldn't bring yourself to blurt out that you used to be his lover of all things. "Dan Feng you have no idea how much I- I missed you and- just how long I've been waiting-" He was under a state of utter shock right now- what were you talking about? He wasn't Dan Feng. No. He will never be Dan Feng, they weren't the same..."You've the wrong person. I'm sorry, I'm not Dan Feng. His past has nothing to do with me."

You felt as if you were engulfed into an empty void of despair, time stopped and the only window of hope had closed shut. "Y-You mean- you don't care about anything you did-? Not- not even your friends or perhaps even a- a lover-?" He raised his eyebrow in response, what were you getting on about? "Refer to him as another person, I am in no ways similar to him, nor do I relate to him."

It seemed as if his tone had just gotten a bit colder, a bit more stern... it reminded you of the time when he- no..when Dan Feng committed the unforgivable sin. You were just about to speak when a girl with white and pink hair showed up, her outfit wasn't too flashy but it was certainly unique. "Dan Heng~! What are you doing here?! Where's caelus?!"

Her voice was squeaky and high pitched, not in an annoying way, rather... a sort of cute way. You noticed the way his eyes softened when she came into view- and jealousy flooded over your entire being. Your eyes moved between them- to find any signs of romanticism between the two.

"This is (reader), I was just talking to them." He pointed towards you, and she immediately smiled. "Hello! I'm March 7th! I'm assuming you used to be one of Imbibitor Lunae's friend?! You're really pretty by the way!" She was nice, she meant to no harm yet the envy in your heart overpowered other emotions. You forced out a gentle smile, shaking her hand in return. "Nice to meet you, and you're quite beautiful yourself."

She called over the grey haired boy, and you excused yourself to walk over to Jing Yuan who was standing in the lone corner. "How was it?" You couldn't bring yourself to answer, your lower lip quivered and shook. "Y-You knew- you knew he's forgotten it all-" All you could do was blame someone for what just happened, it was all too much.

"Yes, I knew...but I had assumed he'd be still having feelings. After all, not everything left his heart. It seems my assumption was wrong..." Jing Yuan was relieved to some extent, but the feeling of guilt could not be ignored either. Your head turned over to Den F- no, Dan Heng and his new group of friends.

He looked happy, and much more comfortable with them. It seemed as if he had started new, to let of go of his past- to move on. Something which you could never bring yourself to do. Tears welled up in your eyes, the thought of just being forgotten like that, as if you didn't matter was so hurting and so painful.

Then all of a sudden you just felt warm and hushed. Jing Yuan had wrapped you in his arms, holding you tight so you could cry and let out all that pent up sadness and depression. You didn't push him away this time, but let yourself go instead. It felt as if a deep scar had made its way into your heart and nothing could heal it.

Okay so this story is turning out super dramatic and pretty stupid if u think about it. But then again it's also really dark in a way considering how damn obsessed I made the reader be- making it look like some psychological problem in their head. But that's rly not something to joke about so I'll suggest that minors perhaps shouldn't read this. (PS: I got this idea while overcoming my long lived insomnia.)

#jing yuan x gn reader #Honkai #honkai star rail x reader #dan feng x reader #jing yuan x reader #slow burn #gn reader #Hsr #honkai star rail #March 7th #Stelle #Jing Yuan #Dan Heng #Imbibitor lunae

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physicalturian · 1 year

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The Liar in Love - Tartaglia X F!Reader

[She/Her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] [AFAB!Reader] [No spoiler of any plot]

Words : 11.6K

Summary : You are an actress of the night, an adventurer, a shadow that acts without anyone noticing. And behind the scenes, the passionate rival of the 11th Fatui Harbinger: codename Childe. This game you both play to see who would bend first is the only way you believe you can have each other for a few fleeting moments, even if you are both craving for much more.

So when a fragrant letter arrives with an invitation to a ball in the freezing territory of Snezhnaya, you instantly know your place for the night.

9 in the evening – The hunt begins.

Inspired by : Link 1 - Link 2 - Link 3 - Link 4

Tags : Confessions / Fluff + Smut / Power Play / Power Dynamics / Exhibitionism / Voyeurism / Enemies to Friends to Lovers / Rivals with Benefits / Unprotected Sex / Vaginal Sex / Mask Kink / Fingerfucking / Predator/Prey / Cunnilingus

Mainly posting on AO3

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Could pettiness be a good fuel for anyone in whatever endeavor they had?

In whatever they wished to pursue?

You wondered…

Many would say no. Many would argue that pettiness would not get you anything but hardship and misery. To which you would tell them: they were wrong. It was as simple as that.

Pettiness had gotten you to many places, it had even gotten you to the freezing territory of Snezhnaya. Being petty had you traveling and it was a wonderful thing, you thought. If some knew your deeper thoughts, they would perhaps even argue that pettiness had not exactly been your fuel, but you found it much more powerful to qualify your going to Snezhnaya as petty rather than justify it by the real reason for it.

“What’s on your mind?” You heard the blonde girl by your side ask gently. Lumine had always been kind, perhaps to a fault. No matter what people asked of her, she would help them in exchange for information on her brother—but most of the time, that information would be closer to unhelpful rather than not. Had it been you, you would not have helped all those people, for what they asked of her would often be much more demanding than the reward at hand.

Giving her a side glance, you smirked, “I’m thinking that I should come to Snezhnaya much more often, the weather is enjoyable and you know I’m rather fond of sliding down–”

She interrupted you with a roll of her eyes, and a small smile, “Thank you for coming with me. The journey is exhausting, but your company makes it easier to forget it’s freezing here.” She turned her head to where Paimon was sleeping in her backpack and smiled sweetly, “As long as she’s not cold, I could probably brave whatever is to come.” She commented more to herself rather than to you.

It was interesting to see the dynamic between the two of them; sometimes, Paimon reminded you of a pet rather than… whatever she was. You never really knew what she was and it was slightly off-putting, but as long as she didn’t bite, you would be fine. “Who am I to refuse an invitation to a ball, my dearest Lumine?” You said teasingly.

You had known all along of the happening of the ball—who was organizing it, and what the outcome of it would be, but you also knew Lumine was going. You could not just go there and accidentally meet her, then have to justify your reason for being there. So you’d played innocent and asked her if she would like company on her journey there.

She had accepted at such a speed you had been caught off guard and started preparing everything.

And here you were. “Remind me again of your plan once we get there?” You asked innocently. You remembered every step of her instructions, adding your own mentally, but you couldn’t come clear about your own intentions. Instead, you played the card of being here for her, all too aware that once you’d reached your destination, you would part ways.

Much to her displease, you would not stick with her until the end—you couldn’t.

She was there to go after many people, to probably violently get information out of some or even something… harsher. But among them was the one who had invited you, for his own entertainment. You would be a liar and a cheat if you said you did not like the way the letter smelled from the fragrance mixed with the ink—but your enjoyment did not stop at the smell, it came from those beautiful and teasing words he had written on that thick piece of paper now folded in your traveling bag.

My beautiful actress,

Rumors spread rather fast in the midst of such a big organization as the one I am ranked in, you must have heard of the upcoming event that is being organized.

While it should be reserved for our members only, we are more than aware of the rotten eggs in our basket and of the unwelcome visitors we will receive.

To this extent, and in seek of entertainment and thrill, we have decided to announce the event as a masked ball.

Should it not be evident to your intellect, you will be coming with a mask that makes your features indiscernible.

Only then will our little game start, my dearest. Considering the traveler will visit, perhaps with friends that will later join on their own, I would propose we have our own program for the evening. It should go as follows:

9 in the evening – Your arrival, the hunt begins.

11 in the evening, on the condition that none of us has caught the other, making them cave in the process – Rendezvous at the library.

2 in the morn – My quarters, only if the ball has come to an end, of course.

Should the festivities have yet to come to a halt, it would be my honor to see your disheveled form waltzing in my arms.

Tasteful amuse-bouches will be at our guests’ disposal for the evening, although my palate craves something much more delicate than such displays of wealth and abundance.

P.S. Mind not your name, we are rather keen on anonymity, are we not? In addition, I find the name suits you like a glove, considering it is all but play pretend.

Expectantly yours,

Your adversary,

“Well, Diluc still is in contact with some people that work behind the scenes to try to dismantle the Fatui, one of them heard that there was this masked ball, so…” She pondered out loud, “I thought we would get in, pretend to the best of our abilities and try to gather some information.” She nodded to herself, trying to remember what else she had in mind before continuing.

“I know someone. He might be able to help us, but I don’t think we can fully trust him in this setting.” She seemed to be in deep thought, weighing the pros and cons of asking this person for help. With a sharp shake of her head, she looked ahead and huffed with determination, “No, we’ll gather the information ourselves. We also need to find out if they are the ones holding my friend captive–” As if she had said something she shouldn’t have, she waved her hand in front of herself and chuckled. “But we will think about it once we’re there, won’t we?”

That sweet smile returned.

Even though everyone did her wrong, unable to help, she kept on giving her time, her patience, her compassion to them. Most probably forgot what she was looking for, because most wouldn’t care once she had helped them. While you were not as close to her as some others might have been, you still paid attention around you wherever you went, in case anyone would let out some information regarding her brother.

“I am sure they have other things to do than torturing your friend, you know… there are some festivities that need to be prepared.” You said lightly, not believing a word you had said. Many of the Harbingers found some satisfaction in torturing well-informed people; you were more than convinced they would skip whatever they had planned for such an opportunity.

Lumine nodded, “I’m not even sure he’s there, I just need to make sure of that.”

“Well, what is certain is that you are not going to relax tonight.”

She raised a brow and squinted her eyes slightly, “Neither are you, as beautiful as this ball will be, we are going there with a purpose.”

“Of course, of course. No time off—although, if I get caught, leave me to die and run, Lumine!” You said dramatically, the back of your hand to your forehead. When she laughed, you knew you had convinced her, you knew she believed you would help her. No ulterior motives.

The blonde woman’s eyes widened at the sight ahead, “There’s the inn! Finally, we can rest for a few hours before getting dressed and slipping among the crowd. I would assume it should start–”

“Around 8. As any good ball should, I am convinced the Fatui must have prepared a whole banquet.” You told her. While your adversary’s letter predicted your arrival at around 9 in the evening, you thought it smarter to arrive earlier. Not only would it give you the advantage of catching him off guard, but you also believed he could be trying to fool you. Your goal was to blend into the sea of people that would be waiting to enter the palace; should they have been told to arrive earlier, he would have the advantage of seeing you as the only fool to arrive at 9 in the evening.

Deep in thought once more while you walked, Lumine pondered, “I think I should go earlier, to mark any escape routes, see if there are many people guarding.”

She couldn’t catch her breath and resting seemed something she could not do either. If she wished to leave earlier, you would not fight her about it. You both knew what the other’s mask looked like, meaning you’d be able to find each other easily. So you nodded, “You do what you please, Lumine, but do consider resting at some point. I’ll be leaving the inn around 8 considering the palace is not too far.”

“You’ll be late, then?” She said, gasping.

“Fashionably so, yes. I do not want to be seen as too enthusiastic, nor too disrespectful… a quarter past eight seems like the perfect time.”

From there on, you parted ways after Lumine dropped her bag—without Paimon in it—in your shared room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and excitement. Energy would be more than required for the evening ahead of you so you decided to nap until the sunset, which did not take long to settle in Snezhnaya.

It was almost as if in the blink of an eye, it was already time to get dressed for the event.

To dress to impress was a requirement. While criminals, the Fatui were still a political organization, full of money and they talked. You couldn’t help but want to hear rumors about yourself, the woman in the fox mask. You felt out of your mind enough tonight to attach a delusion you had recovered in a fight around your neck. It was a risk—not only for you on your personal account, considering the humming of the item on your chest, but for your life. If people out there realized you were an outsider, they would consider you armed and ready for an assault.

“And wouldn’t that be thrilling?” You told your reflection as you patted down your dress before smiling at how gorgeous you looked in it. It suited your body and enhanced it in all the right ways, you were ready to bet people would look and you would welcome them with open arms—although only one gaze mattered, only one.

Giving yourself a last once over, you put on your mask and tied it behind your head steadily; you shook your head to make sure it did not fall and upon trial, it remained on. You were fully set for the evening, now all that was left was to make your way to the palace.

You would admit, the weather was not suitable for dresses—no amount of layers could have you sweating with the cold outside, but you pushed through. With all the people walking the direction you were going, you did not seem out of place, that is if you did not consider the looks of awe upon their notice of your attire. After all, you had dressed for the occasion, but it was mostly to get him to look at you. Part of you wanted to have him bend first, see how long it would last. How long before he would simply drag you away, inevitably losing at his own game.

As you approached the crowd at the stairs of the palace, people were already stepping inside—some greeting each other, others simply taking in the sight. You were part of the latter group, being all too fascinated by the architecture and the lights that shone in the air and on the walls. It was as beautiful as a winter night with a stainless sky; white, glimmering stars shining bright but not as scintillating as the guiding polar star.

“Is it the Lady’s first time in the palace?” A gruff voice whispered by your ear as a hand settled on your lower back, steering you out of the way. You straightened yourself, as if your corset was not tight enough to have you standing with poise. With a delicate turn of your head, you looked at the man that bore only half a mask on his face to hide his eyes and nose. It had golden branches shaped like wings from under the eyes to the sides; perhaps the audacity to show part of one’s face along with the expensive mask revealed his wealth. “I must say, I have rarely seen it lit as such. For the few times I was summoned here, it has never been as grand as it is today.”

“Then I must give you a tour of the place, perhaps while crossing the dance floor—it would be my honor to show you.”

You saw the smile on his face and pried, “The place… to show me around the palace, I am sure that is what you meant.” You stated, all too coy for your taste but as you did so, your eyes waltzed around the room, unlike your rigid body.

The man let out a laugh, a rather foul one if you dared think.

“Being a prude can only last for so long.” He held out his hand and tilted his head. Before he could speak again, you placed your hand within his with a fake, yet believable soft chuckle. “It would be an honor,” you paused, giving him time to tell you his name, or anything you could call him by.

“Anatoly. What should I call you?” He said as you allowed him to place his hand on your hips while the other held your free one. Dipping your head forward lightly in a show of humility, you huffed a laugh, “For tonight, I will respond to Vittoria—you see, I am in a playful mood, but I do strive for success…”

“Oh, Victory, should I have had a say in your name choice this evening, I would have chosen…” As he pondered, he dragged you on the dance floor mindlessly—the man was quite skilled, but it was no surprise. One wrong move and it would be humiliating for him, high society was unforgiving on that matter. While glancing around, completely ignoring the beautiful melody that played, your eyes focused on a form that could only belong to him.

You were not quite sure from the attire that adorned his figure, but your intuition could not be wrong. Different settings meant different challenges; if you had seen him in Liyue in a light gray suit, and he had tried to blend in somewhat in Inazuma—this, Snezhnaya, was his battlefield. He had the upper hand.

Your eyes could not tear from the form that walked down the stairs with another man at his side while they talked.

He, whom you believed to be your rival, was dressed in a black suit that had fine red detailing. If you could squint your eyes more than you’d already done, you could perhaps see some glimpses of gold. Around his neck was a fine red scarf, and draped over his shoulders rested a black cape with a mix of dark and light brown fur. Ginger flamboyant hair with a beautiful golden sad mask, with holes for the eyes and a mouth like in theaters.

Your observation was interrupted as Anatoly brought you close to him again, “Or perhaps, Trappola?” Trap. Did he find out who you were? “Scarnecchia…” Sneaking around. The man was more learned than you had given him credit for, so instead of panicking, you laughed coyly once more.

“Those are rather heavy on the tongue, wouldn’t you agree?” You smile behind your mask.

In a few swift moves, he had led you to the side of the room where a dark corridor was lit by the moon—you were far from everyone, and this man was not going to ruin your little game. As soon as he pressed you to the wall, a hand to your mouth, you bit him hard and got out a knife from under your dress. You pulled his long coat to cover your forms and stabbed him in the throat. Just like that, the man was left bleeding out on the floor.

You waited a few minutes to make sure he was out then wiped the blade on his attire before stepping away from the growing pool of blood. Looking down at him, you frowned, “My apologies, I did not believe I would be found out so easily.” You then stepped back inside the ballroom where the festivities had remained the same, not one thing was out of order—if one was unaware of the dead body not too far, that was.

Holding your hands to your front on your lower stomach, you walked around the ballroom trying to find him. It was rather challenging to greet everyone and compliment dresses and masks all while looking for him. You hadn’t wanted to get him out of your sight, but Anatoly had to go too far, you had to take care of him—ultimately, it was for the greater good of this beautiful foreplay.

You felt as if you had gone about the ballroom for more than an hour, participating in small, but all the while interesting conversations. Many complimented your mask, and you told them all that you went by the name of Vittoria. The lover. Although the title remained in your mind, you were not about to proclaim anything to these aristocrats.

In the midst of a passionate discussion about one’s aesthetic choices, you caught him walking by once more. This time, you kept talking and made sure to laugh slightly more boisterously than you had done up until then. “And to believe someone let her go out like this! You see, this is why you need honest servants by your side.” The woman that dressed all too eccentrically for your taste said while nudging you, she was fanning her face even in the very depths of Snezhnaya, you were in awe. She was in the wrong for adding soon after that her servants were trustworthy, loyal, and adored her. You knew for a fact the latter was a fallacy from the way she was dressed. Nothing was handed-down, of course not—far from any of these people to wear clothes they have already worn. But you knew the small people and how easily they could convince the rich of new fashions.

All it would take was a gasp at some fabrics, erratic suggestions and compliments, then voila! You’d have a new garment in the making.

You laughed, nodding gracefully, “How lucky of you, they truly worked wonders. Is that a unique piece?” You asked, giving a once over to the bright, rather distasteful outfit she wore.

Excitedly, she smiled—as you could see from the half-mask she wore, “It is indeed! I absolutely adore this dress.”

To your surprise, someone joined the conversation and your breath hitched, “It suits you wonderfully, Irina Nikolaevna.”

Her face would have flushed anew had it not already been burning red through her thick face powder from the tightness of her corset and the many drinks she’d had. She fanned her hand in front of her in false shyness, “Oh, you flatter me, young man—let us pretend you do not know who I am! I thought my disguise was going to trick everyone.”

The man by your side chuckled, “It probably has, but I would recognize your beauty anywhere.” You were no fool, and you would know that voice among thousands.

You knew he was teasing you in the process, testing you even. But you felt your chest burn up slightly as he flirted, with no intention for it to avail, with the older woman in front of you.

His head then tilted down at you, “It seems you have been slipping through my fingers, little mouse.” He told you playfully.

The woman laughed, “She is no mouse! She is a fox, a hunting beast, nothing as slender and as gentle as a mouse—you see, in my youth, I was so dainty that–”

She was pulled back by an older man telling her something, her husband. You were quite grateful he had interrupted this little discussion of yours, you were in no mood to be talked down to.

Once she had fully turned around, an arm slid around your waist and pulled you close as a gloved, slender hand held yours up, leading you further from the circle of people. “Correct me if I’m wrong—I could have sworn I saw someone wearing this very mask earlier tonight, and yet it was much earlier than nine in the evening.” The lightness in his voice hinted at the smile he wore underneath that mask, you looked to the side and replied, “How curious indeed, some would find it smarter to arrive earlier than the agreed-upon time.” You then faced him, “Why should one make it easier to be found out, pray tell, Tartaglia?”

“Now, let’s not use that title here.” He whispered to your ear once he had your chest pressed against his. You had to hold back from wrapping both of your arms around him—you could not lose.

“Would it be surprising to these people that the Harbingers are present at a Fatui ball?” You asked sardonically. It made him laugh, your cheeks warming up at the sound while you caressed his hand with your thumb, absentmindedly waltzing without looking at anyone but him.

With his head pressed to yours, he said in a hushed tone, “Playing pretend is much more interesting to them, it has to do with wanting to be the center of attention. They hardly wish to be reminded there are greater people around them.” His hand slowly slid higher to the middle of your back as he played with the fabric, “But enough about aristocrats.”

You hummed, grabbing his hand to pull it away from you playfully, “Could it be you had something in mind? Should I take this initiative of yours as you yield–”

“Childe!” You heard Lumine speak.

In a matter of seconds, you parted ways with him and disappeared into the crowd. Your fun had just started, the real game had just begun and it had to be ruined by your adventurous friend. If she was going to keep him busy with her questioning, you were going to attempt to distract him and have him running back to you.

Looking over your shoulder, you threw him a glance—without even seeing each other’s faces, he knew you were going to do something you would regret and you knew he was seething as you stepped in front of a young aristocrat that looked decent enough. The mask made it so you could not get disgusted by his features, which was a good addition as you paraded around like a bird to have him ask you for a dance. It worked wonders when the man held out his hand to you.

Childe was watching the scene, barely listening to Lumine as he observed how you curtsied to the stranger and let his hand rest where his had been moments ago. To be interrupted in the midst of his fun had him frustrated, but he looked back at the blonde woman who had barely done anything to blend in and smiled as he would often do, “I have no idea who that Childe is, but if you’re looking for a kid, it should be at a home with a nanny.”

Lumine hit him, “Stop messing around, I know it’s you and you know it’s me, I just need intel on–”

Leaning over, the man laughed into the young woman’s ear, “See, I will be kind enough tonight. I will ignore that you outright exposed yourself—because I’m under the obligation of reporting any unwelcome visitors to the Captain.” He leaned back and tilted his head to the side, “The music is rather loud, I didn’t hear you right!” The smile behind his mask was one of pride, utter satisfaction at how her face turned sour, which he could see from the dark-coloured half-mask she wore. “You are back from a long mission—you traveled a lot, is that right? You couldn’t be the traveler, correct?”

Her mouth was now flat in a line, her brows furrowed, “I will be taking my leave. Have a beautiful evening, sir.” With that, she followed her own words and slithered away from him and among the occupants on the dance floor.

When Tartaglia finally turned back to where you had stood, you were gone.

You saw how he frantically looked around the room as you made sure to waltz away with the man from earlier, enjoying this hunt much more now that he was frustrated. Ignoring the few slides of the hand of your dance partner that you had to bring back to your waist, the dancing in itself was not as bad as you had expected.

You hadn’t realized he had been calling you, clearly not used to answering to the name you had chosen for tonight—but you quickly looked back at him and smiled behind your mask. The action in itself seemed foolish considering he could not see it, but it did not matter. “Yes?”

“Has something caught your attention? I do not wish to keep you here if your heart belongs–”

Shaking your head, you huffed a laugh, noticing Childe’s gaze back on yours, “Would you mind spinning me? I find it most entertaining to feel the lightness of a fine twirl, it makes me feel–” You let out a forced giggle when he twirled you once, twice, thrice then brought you close to him, finishing your sentence himself with his forehead against yours, “Beautiful.”

It was hard to hold back the sick feeling you had upon being this close to this man, but you played your role and tiled your head back, chuckling some more, “I’m slightly dizzy, I will fetch myself a drink. Do you need anything?”

He shook his head, “Nonsense! What does a woman of fine taste like yourself wish to satiate her thirst?”

Bringing a hand to your mouth, you chuckled, your face blank behind the mask, “You are very sweet, surprise me. I am rather fond of surprises.”

The man nodded and scurried off.

It did not take a minute to feel his hand back on your waist, his head pressed to the side of yours while you both looked around the room. The music was starting to pick up the pace, your step that had almost come to a halt was now faster, “To dance with a stranger is one thing,” His fingers dug slightly in your side, making you huff a silent laugh of excitement. Your hand tightened on his shoulder, but you did not respond right away. “To choose him over a Harbinger is another. Some would consider it an affront, should they care about things like these.” His voice was light, but so close to your ear that a bubble of intimacy had been built around both of you.

As if it was just the two of you.

“So, perhaps to get my pride back, I should show you which is the better choice between us.” People paraded around you so fast you could not catch their faces as everyone crossed the dance floor in rhythm, “Don’t tell me you were so easily toyed with, Taru.” You whispered to his ear, catching the strangled, indignant sound in his throat.

His eyes sought yours through your mask and met them with determination, “Be careful, we do not know each other, remember?”

You couldn’t help but grin, “Ah yes, the same way you did not know our blonde friend. I will admit, I enjoyed seeing you impatient like that.” You mocked, your hand sliding on his shoulder to touch the collar of his cape. You had never seen him dressed quite like this, but the first thing your body needed was to be fucked on that very cape that he wore with such pride and duty. You wanted to know it had been stained by both of your desperate needs to be together. You wanted the world to see but not understand that this very item of clothing bore the mark of a passionate love that burst like wildfire when you were in the same room.

Such a passion could not be contained, but attempting to tame it made it all the more fun for both of you.

“You blend rather well within high society, my lady. Should I doubt it’s an act and start believing you are very fond of scandal?” He asked teasingly, calming the pace of both your steps as the music melted to a new one, much calmer this time.

“I hear you, I truly do, but I am much fonder of that voice in my head that is screaming for us to be at the center of that scandal.” You said sweetly, albeit the words uttered were anything but.

It was the first time in your very long dance that his step faltered. You made sure to hold onto him as he caught both of you—hiding his misstep by tilting you backward, “Be careful what you wish for, it sounds like you are quite literally falling for me.” He whispered against your mask. You heard the low hum of people gasping at the gesture he had made—all but good things.

When he brought you back up, he held you close with his face against the side of yours once more, “But here is your chance, sly fox. All eyes are on you, what is your next move?”

You were not as fond of their gaze on you as you thought. You had been an actress of the night, a shadow that acted without anyone noticing—because most watched the light without realizing it birthed darkness.

With your lack of response, he asked again, “The people are waiting on our next move, what should we do?”

“Turn me, make them swoon.” You scoffed, blaming your request on the people, but it was you who wanted it. You wanted to stay longer in his arms, maybe even for the crowd to feel there was something between the two of you.

As he did your bidding, you watched the world spin, faces passing by rapidly over and over again before everything stopped and you could only see his mask looking down at you. Your eyes still trying to stabilize, you chuckled upon hearing their cheers, “I suppose my attire is well suited for twirls, it’s rather–”

“Of course, far from you the idea of them enjoying your grace rather than your dress.” He said with a roll of his eyes, mocking you.

Squeezing his shoulder tight, you felt your chest warm up but roughly said, “It played a big part, and… and–” You caught yourself losing your words, finding your throat constricted in embarrassment at his compliment. Clearing your throat, you quickly covered, “I meant to say that you are very handsome tonight, it would also bring their attention–”

“I can’t hear much of what you’re saying, I’m still stuck on your little mishap.” He was grinning behind that foolish mask of his, you could hear it. You wanted to defend yourself, but found it would only push your embarrassment further in. He took it as an opportunity to speak up, “Will you excuse us, the lady is rather exhausted from the dancing. We shall retreat for a bit.” He told everyone.

If you thought you would be discreet tonight, he had other plans. It was odd considering no one knew of anything you had going on, not even Lumine.

With a polite move, Tartaglia offered his arm towards you for you to take and you did, holding onto it as you walked to the side of the dance floor. Thinking you would stop by a waiter for a drink, you were about to call one of them over when he stirred you away, still walking.

You were led to a different corridor than earlier this evening. When you could barely hear the music and buzzing of the people, he stopped and opened a door to a room that you soon discovered was a library, “You would excuse this choice of room, let us say someone left a rather displeasing package in the sleeping quarters' corridor.” He said, fully aware of what had happened. You stood in front of him as he leaned against one of the tables, a silence settling slowly.

“Are you admitting your loss yet?” You finally said with your arms crossed over your chest, cockiness dripping from your words.

He gestured with his head towards you, “Take off your mask.”

You huffed a laugh and reached for the knot behind your head, grabbing the loose mask as it came undone, “Are you really that desperate to see my pretty face?” You asked, looking back at him with warm cheeks from how he now stood right in front of you instead of further off by the table. His fingers delicately lifted your chin as his controlled breath could be heard behind his mask, “Look at me—there we go…” He trailed off when you did exactly that, a smirk behind that mask.

He tilted his head to the side mockingly and said, “Are you telling me all I needed to have your guard crumble was flattery?”

Your face lit up in indignation, “I have no idea what you’re saying, but it’s complete nonsense.”

“Then tell me you could go back out there and continue our little game.” He stated, his voice all the more serious even if the words were being spoken with a smile. Because he knew you; you had been playing this game for so long, he knew when you were over. As your eyes darted to the side, he chuckled, turning your face to meet your gaze once more, “Tell me you could play the fool ‘til the bell rings eleven.” His thumb brushed against your lower lip as he pulled at it gently, before mimicking a higher tone of voice in the same slow, almost whispered pattern as he mocked you, “I could never, Taru, my body’s been craving yours ever since you touched me—nay, ever since I watched you walk down the stairs with Pantalone–”

You slapped his hand off and glared at him, “I would never speak like that.”

His voice stern, he asked, “Do you yield?”

Taken aback, your eyes widened but you remained barely a step away from him.

“I do not wish to yield.” You stated, foolishly determined and prideful.

He smiled behind his mask, but you could only see his dead eyes staring at you. “We cannot have you spoiled, thinking you can always obtain what you desire, my little fox, now can we?” His hands suddenly gripped your hips as he pressed you against one of the bookcases, a few tomes falling in the process. Your breath hitched in your throat and he did not miss it, he pounced on it like a weakness begging to be exploited, “There, am I breathtaking?” He cooed.

Your eyes looked all over his mask to find out where it was attached. You wanted to take it off and take in his beauty, but you were starting to grow fond of having him hold the upper hand like this, “Take off your mask, then I’ll tell you.” You smirked, reaching for his head only to have him grip your wrist tightly as he tutted you beratingly, tossing your hand aside to let it drop at your side.

“You’re acting tough, but I wrote the script, I know the asides.” With his face now close to your ear, he smirked and said, “I know what your mind is made of.”

“Then tell me, if you are so versed in my person.” You only now noticed the little bit of skin that was exposed under his collar. You were tempted to pull down his cape and push him to the floor, but something told you it would happen sooner or later, so you whispered back, “If you make good assumptions, I might consider yielding—and if you are wrong, you admit defeat.”

Childe laughed, making your body long for that sound to escape his lips again, “What assures me you will be truthful and admit I’m right?”

You met his gaze and smirked playfully, “Well, don’t you trust me, Tartaglia? I would never dare lie to the eleventh Harbinger, the consequences that would follow…” You teased, tugging at the scarf around his neck and letting it drop on the floor. You heard the annoyed sigh that escaped his lips but he did not do anything. Instead, he tilted your chin up and hummed a moment, “I believe the script went as such…”

He brushed your lips once more with his thumb and in the most seductive tone you had heard from the man, he spoke, “The woman stands against the bookshelf. She is frowning, but she is not mad. She likes the man that plays with her, but he should not know. She is arrogant. Her actions are not thought through, she is erratic.” He enjoyed the look on your face as he read you like an open book. He loved this game you both played not only for that very expression your face bore, but also for the satisfaction of putting all of it out there.

“The man wants her, but is stronger–”

You were going to interrupt him when he continued, “He’s cornered her. He enjoys observing her face after the humiliation of being seen.” Your heartbeat picked up, you could not look away as his gloved hand caressed your hair. You almost leaned into his touch, but held back. You had to keep the little restraint you had left.

“They both know the outcome of this. But none speak of it. One move is needed to reach what they both desire.” He then paused and looked down at your dress before letting one of his fingers hook onto your neckline. “Now, I had a hard time finishing this play… where do you think the script should go? Happy endings are rather nice, but I love letting my muse be free and explore any opportunities.” He leaned back and stood in front of you with an all too confident demeanor, a demeanor that you were keen on, a demeanor that was your weakness. Seeing him retaining his composure.. should someone have walked by, they would have believed you were only being told off, it was so interesting to see.

“So tell me, what will the woman do?” He inquired in a light tone.

You looked him up and down, taking in the sight of his kept attire and hair—finding it all the more attractive that he could contain himself even now. You needed him to touch you, to feel you over and over, until everyone but you was asleep. Until all that remained was both of you in the company of the moon.

As you were about to speak, he raised a finger, “I am a visual learner, little fox.” He mocked.

Clenching your jaw, you lifted your skirts and took off your heels before kneeling on the floor. Unable to look him in the eyes, you said in a mocking sing-song voice, “I yield.”

The deafening sound of his footsteps echoed as he approached you, the tip of his shoes against your knees, “My apologies, I could not hear you over the sound of your pride shattering.” He gripped your chin forcefully and made you look up, your face heating up in seconds as you pushed through the constriction in your throat from the embarrassment.

“How hard can it be, is this not how it ends every time? Hm?” He cooed, splaying his hand on your cheek, caressing it softly, “If you think about it, we both win. You gain the freedom of submitting to me, I gain the power of having you for another night.” He breathed out a soft chuckle, then trailed his hand down to your neck, wrapping his hand tenderly around it as his voice lowered, “So, let me hear you say it one more time.”

“I yield, Taru. You have won for tonight.”

Helping you to your feet with his hand still around your neck, you followed his guidance while he spoke, “And every night prior,” He guided you to a couch that had many blankets laid upon it already, “And the nights to come, I’m sure…” He turned you around roughly and undid your overdress before letting it drop on the floor. Untying the knot of your corset, he then started unlacing it as he continued, “And isn’t that the best way to enjoy it?” Each tug had you closer and closer to being able to breathe again until it was loose enough to slide above your head and be tossed aside. Childe then lowered his head to your shoulder and lifted his mask enough to kiss the exposed skin, “Look at the snow outside, isn’t it a beautiful sight to be fucked to?” He breathed as he pulled his mask back on and turned you around.

“Why keep the mask on? Would it be so bad to be caught with me?” You asked half-jokingly, half-hurt as your hands reached for the button of his cape. Taking the item off his shoulders, you tossed it on the couch behind you, “Or is it a question of power? I hope you are not embarrassed, I can assure you, I have seen you plenty of times panting and moaning my name like the desperate little boy that you are–”

One hand covered your mouth while the other helped the mask off his head, tossing it by your discarded clothes. “Yielding is submitting, what gave you the impression you could speak to me like this?” He smirked, eyes stern but the spark in them showed how entertained he was by the banter. Pushing him even more, you leaned against him and removed his hand from your mouth, “The tightness in your pants—or the growing smile on your face, even.” You stated.

He hummed and gripped your waist, pressing you harder against him as he pushed you to the couch, “The script says the woman will let him do as he pleases, and what he pleases is–”

“Taru, I love the analogy, but this is getting out of hand.” You chuckled.

Laughing, he kissed you without missing a beat. Both your hands cradled his face as you deepened the kiss, moaning into it, trying the best you could to have him closer but this was all you could have. You could not fuse, you could only enjoy one another’s touch.

“Do you believe I could have you scream loud enough for your voice to carry to the ballroom?” He asked teasingly and out of breath.

With your makeup slightly ruined, you pondered theatrically, making him chuckle, “I am convinced you will try, but sometimes you have to accept defeat. If you wanted people to hear us, you should have invited them.” You joked, but his face seemed to consider your words for a second. You splayed your hand on his cheek, making him turn to you, “I am being ironic, do not–”

“Did you think I would share my well-earned—my deserved—meal? Let them starve, let them miss out.” He then corrected himself, and pried your hand away, kissing down your chest, “Not that they would know they’re missing out,” another kiss, “They have never tasted you,” and another one, this time after pulling the sleeves of your underdress off your shoulders and exposing your breast, “They’ve never felt you around them.”

He then looked up at you, “And they never will.”

Carefully, you reached for his hair and brushed it back to make him look at you, “You should make sure of that, I tend to forget it after such a long time of not seeing you.” You teased, his eyes widening at the challenge that had been given to him. He immediately took his gloves off, prying your hands away from his head. He held your legs above his shoulders, making you gasp in surprise at the suddenness, “We shall blame your heels, should you not be able to walk straight in the morning.” He teased back, a mischievous smile on his lips.

Just like that, he disappeared under your skirt after getting rid of your underwear—in seconds, his tongue was between your legs, skillfully playing with your clit as his hands kept your legs spread apart.

“Yes—yes of course, the heels, no—ah, no other reason.” You said between small sounds of pleasure that escaped your lips. You felt the rumble of his laugh down your lower stomach as he gently lifted your thighs more to rest them on his shoulders, freeing his hands. You slid up onto the couch slightly, gripping the cushions for support and felt the need to chat—it felt empty without his talkative attitude. “I will let you keep this up only because you seem confident in what you are doing, Tartaglia–” Your calling of his name turned into a moan when you felt him bite your thigh in a way that made you understand you should be keeping your mouth shut.

With your head lolling back, you laughed breathlessly, “What is it?” You teased, “Relying on violence to make yourself—obeyed?” You managed to utter between contained moans. The pressure on your bud disappeared as a new sensation joined the game. You felt his fingers slowly slide inside you as he hummed under your skirt, his warm breath on your wet skin making you shiver. “Now, what violence am I relying on, little fox?” He coed, helping the skirt off his head to look at you with a mocking smile, “Am I hurting you? If so, I should stop–”

Your hands flew to his own that was about to slide out of you; you gripped his wrist tightly and shook your head, your hair already disheveled from pressing back into the couch.

“Mm, I cannot wait to have you begging for me.” He whispered lovingly. His free hand reached for your face as he gently touched your cheek, “I just need a little bit more time to have you crumbling in my hands, alright?” His eyes were now looking at you with adoration—both of you unaware of how deeply he enjoyed your presence, your entire being, both of you ignorant to how much you needed him and wanted to be with him.

This was a game, nothing else. Right?

Chuckling, you grabbed the sides of his face with both hands and leaned to kiss him, tasting yourself in the process, “I am more than capable of having you desperate to have me–”

“What you are capable of does not often align with what you know is good for you,” You let go of him from the little gesture that made you understand what he wanted, then he kissed your still-covered stomach, then your thigh as he went back between your legs, “That’s why we are in this position every… time…” His voice lowered as he did the same.

His eyes met yours one more time, mischievous and knowing, “And Archons know it will be good.”

You quickly tilted your head back to hide how much you enjoyed him like this, how much his promises got you aroused, and how willing you were to let him do as he pleased with your body. He was aware you were comfortable with him, but he was still ignorant of just how far he could go.

As he started thrusting his fingers inside you, you covered your mouth to hide the moans that were threatening to escape.

“It should be somewhere in here–” You heard a deep voice open the door, muttering.

The speed at which you grabbed the cape from under you to throw it on the now skirt-covered form of Childe had you amazed. You tossed the cloth over him and wrapped your legs around his back to get him closer to you and the couch so it wouldn’t seem too odd.

“Your face…” You heard him whisper before feeling his tongue back on your clit.

Panicked, you grabbed his mask that was not too far on the couch and held it to your face—it was fast enough to hide yourself in time as the man walked by.

“Goodness, you scared me.” You gasped in a too-high pitched voice, not only from the pleasure you felt but from needing to act coy around those fools.

The man looked at your cape-covered legs; you immediately caught his attention back by asking, “What could you be doing here while a ball is happening?”

“I could ask you the same, my lady.” He quirked a brow. You were grateful for the mask that covered your face when you clenched your jaw to hold back a loud moan. The man between your legs had fervently resumed his actions and was now curling his fingers inside you while his tongue lapped over your sensitive spot.

“Can a lady not unwind in the midst of a fantastic ball? Those masks are rather dreadful and hard to—ah, breathe with.” You panted in the middle of your sentence, swearing him off in your head.

The man standing in front of you remained there for a moment, his eyes squinting at your mask, “Have we talked this evening? I am sure I would have remembered had I enjoyed a conversation with you… but I must be certain—your mask…” Seems familiar, I am sure of it, you thought.

“Please, no need to waste time on flattery, I am taken.” You stopped talking, gulping down to hold back a groan then started fanning your face with your free hand. “I am convinced my husband—would not appreciate it if he learned,” A longer pause this time, you were smiling knowing it had a certain effect on him from the pause in his ministrations. “If one of his men started acting friendly—towards me.” Immediately taken aback by your words, the man straightened his back and shook his head, his hands in front of him in a sort of defense.

You gestured for him to leave, “I am sure it was an accident, no foolish man would make any advances on one of the Harbingers’ lovers.” You smiled sweetly, but he could not see it. However, you knew his eyes had widened as he turned around and quickly apologized before rushing out of the library.

The moment the door closed, the cape flew out of the way. Childe immediately stood up from between your legs to look down at you with hunger in his eyes as he removed a few layers of his attire. You looked at him with a hooded and proud gaze upon being able to get a rise out of him so easily.

As he undressed, you partially held your breasts while continuing what he’d started by fingering yourself, “What could have gotten you so worked up, Taru?” You pouted mockingly, knowing full well what had done it.

The shortness of breath in his laugh had an effect on you. Your eyes could not be torn from him even if your life depended on it, much less so after seeing him run his tongue over his teeth while taking his shirt off. “Taru. You are unbelievable—do you understand I do not find this funny?” His tone had lost its lightness, which made you wonder why he was still undressing, why he was continuing this game of yours.

He shook his head and told you to turn around. You frowned and stood up, reaching for his face but he grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “For you, it might be a game, little fox. And I would understand if you wanted just that–” He clicked his tongue, “But to openly play with my reputation, mocking me in the process? There are indeed things I do not let slide.”

“I’m sorry? No, there is a misunderstanding, I was not—Taru, can you please look at me?”

His jaw was clenched, his grip on your wrist tightening for a few seconds before he let go and walked past you to sit on the couch, annoyed.

You remained at the same spot he had left you for a moment, thinking of what could have happened to have him react in such a way. Everything was fine until the other man interrupted you. Something in the words you spoke must have ticked him off, so you repeated them in your head over and over, trying to understand where the mockery had settled when the realization came to you.

Your eyes widened as your face warmed up; with an arm covering your chest, you turned around and patted his hair gently before tilting his head back and looking at his hurt face, “Could this be a misunderstanding?”

For a split second, his eyes softened only to harden immediately, pushing your hand away, “Those words–” He started, you pushed his shoulders and straddled his lap with your knees on each side of him, supporting your weight on the couch. “Those words were not mocking, Childe.”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes and opted to trace the freckles on his torso delicately as you continued a bit more shyly, “I will admit, they slipped out of my mouth in the heat of the moment.” You hummed to yourself, “I wanted to see how you would react, I thought you would enjoy hearing them, I wanted you to enjoy.”

He huffed, “So you did this for me? You knew all along that…”

“That I had feelings for you? Yes.” You sighed, about to put your dress back on, until you felt his hands stopping you. Your heart was beating all too fast for your liking, but you continued, “I suppose I–” You paused, “I am truly unsure of what I thought.”

There was a brief silence, “This game we play is what I believed could be the only way for me to have you, even if it is but for a fleeting moment. Even if it is but for a few hours on a fine evening.” You smiled sadly to yourself and ran a hand on your face, attempting to get a hold of yourself. “Do not get me wrong, I enjoyed it thoroughly each and every time—I suppose what I am trying to say is…”

“That you want more?” He asked, his voice barely audible. Looking up, you met his gaze and saw how soft, if not emotional, he had become. All you could do was nod. His hands let go of your dress and instead held your thighs as he drew you closer to him, a growing smile on his lips, “I will admit, my insecurity got a hold of me and I believed you were mocking my own feelings towards you.” He chuckled, his gentle fingers caressing your skin while his head fell slightly, sheepishly. It was a look you had never had the occasion to witness on him, but found it most endearing. Then the meaning of his words dawned on you and all you could do was kiss him, a kiss he returned briefly before you both had to part ways.

Like two young fools in love, all you could do was laugh slightly at first, embarrassed, before it grew into an open laugh, your hands now holding his shoulders. This felt different from all those times you laid in bed together, from all those times you kissed and enjoyed each other’s bodies.

“Then perhaps I should call you my little fox. You see–”

“Or you could call me my love, I could very much get used to using an endearing term rather than Taru.” You said with more confidence now.

With a slight pout, Childe grabbed the back of your legs and hinted for you to lift yourself up, which you did before letting him lower you onto his cock. He smiled in pleasure and so did you at how good it felt, then he spoke, “You are the only one calling me Taru, I have grown fond of it… my…” He seemed to think before fully sheathing himself inside you and breathing out, “Mine.”

You grinned in pleasure and breathed out, “My mine. That sounds pretty endearing, you are right.” You teased, making him groan.

He rolled his eyes and started thrusting inside you to stop you from talking. It worked well enough since you rested your forehead against his and moaned out a proud laugh. He couldn’t get enough of it and hardened his thrusts, to elate more of those sounds from you. “Give it time and I will be fucking you as my wife.”

The gorgeous sound of pleasure escaping his lips, the promise of his words, the feeling of his cock—you let out a whine of pleasure and continued fucking yourself on him. His grin had you even more aroused when he watched you bounce on his lap, disheveled, all but graceful, you were sinful.

As he looked at you, he couldn’t help but bask in your being.

You were what many wanted but few got, what all deserved but even fewer earned, what was promised but so hard to give. You were the love he so desperately craved, yearned—the love he had longed for.

“No rush—I would be more than happy being—ah, your lover in the meantime.” You panted, barely letting out words in pairs as you spoke, unable to focus on talking from the growing pleasure in your lower stomach.

Childe moaned as he kissed your chest, his teeth grazing your now sensitive nipples from his gentle biting, “My lover, my traveling partner, my companion.” He whispered, his voice more and more strained from how close he was getting. The crack in his voice had you weak as your nails dug into his skin. You nodded, mouth open from how heavy you were breathing. You couldn’t form any sort of sentences, your mind too high on the bliss he was bringing you.

“Archons, you are drooling from just my cock, my mine…” He said contently, almost proud to see the embarrassing state he had you in. One hand remained on your clit while he pressed his forehead to yours once again. His free hand wiped off your drool as he pried your mouth wider open with his thumb, “All dazed, my beautiful woman is on a cloud.” He commented teasingly.

You mustered a roll of your eyes and were going to pry his hand off, but instead simply held it there, “I’m close.” You uttered. With his thumb pressing on your tongue, your speech was not clear but he had understood.

He smirked and gently tilted your head back before cooing, “Then lay back and we shall finish this—there we go, Archons, you’re so fucking hot laying on my cape.”

From his lack of movement, you managed to look at him, “Since I noticed you had a cape, I have been wanting to ruin it.”

He laughed, placing himself back between your legs, “Is it not a pretty cape?” he asked in fake offense.

“I simply believe it would look better with both our essences on it.” You doubted those words and they perhaps even died in your throat as he thrust inside you once more. He was panting heavily, his hands gripping your legs in place as he rested them over his shoulders and enjoyed the sight of your hands desperately gripping the couch, your mouth, the couch, your mouth—you did not know if you wanted to deafen your loud sounds of pleasure or if you needed to hold onto something, anything, for balance.

“Fuck, you look stunning like this, I want to make you cum but—ah, I need to hear the magic words!”

A hand flew to his hair, your fingers threading through it, “Please, please Taru, I need to come, I’m so close, so close, so…” You were repeating it over and over as you felt his pace speeding up, one hand joining back on your clit. He felt your walls tighten around him as your back arched and your hand clawed at the couch. Loud, throaty moans flooded from your lips, some deeper, some higher, he didn’t care. He was seeing you raw, vulnerable, weak, he loved it. He loved you, he truly did.

The light of the moon was illuminating your sweaty bodies and he thought for a second that there hadn’t been a better sight than this one until your eyes opened and met his—one last whine ripped from your throat as you came around his cock. The view had him finding release seconds after you, his thrusts slowing while his fingers held onto your thighs for dear life.

Once you had both been able to catch your breaths, he pulled out and took one of the blankets from the couch before draping it over the both of you as he lay next to you.

“The ball is still going on.” You whispered, your hand finding his chest to be the most interesting thing right now, more precisely his freckles. Grinning, he tilted your head to look at him, “Meaning you wish to go dancing?”

You smiled sweetly, “Well, according to the program I received from–”

“From me, it says that if we are still physically well enough–”

“I am more than physically well, I…” You raised your hand high, laughing through your nose, “I can raise my arms, which is a good thing so far.”

The man hummed melodiously, his arm reaching to thread his fingers with yours high in the air, “I was more than gentle,” He then brought your hand down to his lips and kissed it, looking at you with adoration, “Which could be fixed, should you feel ready for another round of fun.”

You kissed the back of his hand as he did yours, lifting it above his head and against the pillow as you went to straddle his thighs, the blanket sliding off the both of you. You couldn't care less for your dress that still pooled around your waist as you kissed him with a grin, bringing his other hand above his head, “I wish to dance with you as my lover, is it too much to ask for?”

With eyes colored with mischief, he smirked and whispered against your lips, “It could be, if you keep pressing against my cock like this.”

“Like this?” You mocked, rolling your hips again.

When he tried to grab your hips, you rolled off him and onto the ground, laughing loudly before struggling to your feet, almost stumbling in the process. He tried to grab you but you pushed him back, sliding your arms into your sleeves while you hurried away from him, “Oh, to have a Harbinger struggling to come to his feet!”

The little time you looked away from him was enough for him to disappear and reappear behind you, his arms caging you, “What was it about a Harbinger?” He breathed down your ear, a smile on his lips.

“I will not concede this time, Tartaglia.” You spelled out, your hand reaching behind you to touch his face, “Would you like to know what my alias was this evening?” You asked softly, perhaps too proud of the name you had found. Your lover let you slip out of his grasp and looked at you expectantly, lovingly, excitedly; he hummed inquisitively as he stepped aside to get dressed once more, “I feel it will be interesting, go ahead.”

“Vittoria, not only because I was dead set on winning–”

“Which did not happen, continue.” He interrupted, throwing you a teasing smile while he buttoned his shirt up.

You rolled your eyes and tried to slip into your corset while struggling to say, “And because she was one of the lovers in, you know… the inspiration behind your chosen names among the Harbingers?” You finally slipped your corset on, then felt slender fingers trail down the fabric. You tensed and tried to look over your shoulder, but were immediately forced to look forward as Childe turned your head. “No, keep going. Tell me more, I will play the fool and ask why you chose that very name.” You heard him smile as he pulled at the lace of your corset, cinching it as you let out a gasp from how tight it was. You signaled over your shoulder for him to undo it slightly, which he did, prodding you to explain.

“It is as evident as the word is, Taru. What else should I–”

“What else should you tell me? Well, your every thought behind choosing this name! Some would go with fancy names, you chose one that aligned with me.” And he knew exactly why, after all, all that happened moments ago was not insignificant. You had both been open with your feelings, but part of him sought more concrete evidence, or perhaps he was teasing you. He was unsure because admitting the former would mean accepting his self-doubt.

Feeling your face warm up, you looked out the window, “Well, simply because…”

He waited, you had to continue.

“Because! Because–” Pull, tight. “It was enjoyable for an evening–” Pull, tight. “To run around, somehow claiming—ah!–” Chuckle, pull, tight, “The title of your lover. None knew, but I did.” You explained rapidly, gasping out a moan when Childe pulled one last time, melodiously singing under his breath as he tied the lace and pulled you by the waist against him, “Then we shall do it so that everyone knows, would it be even more enjoyable to you? I will admit, I truly wish to see their faces when I announce you as my partner out there.” He swayed you by the hips gently as he talked, his head resting against yours.

You scoffed and pressed your head back against his, “To have a bounty on my person, I cannot wait to see the exciting life to come!” You joked, making him laugh as he tutted you, “No one would dare touch you, and even so, how could they? I am never leaving your side now.” He stated, kissing your cheek from behind before turning you around and placing a mask on your face before you could kiss his lips.

“So let’s!” He grinned, tying the mask behind your head before letting you walk ahead of him, putting on his mask before joining you.

It took you a moment to realize what he had done, but it was all too late to fix it. As you stepped inside the ballroom, arm hooked onto his, you looked straight ahead and spoke loud enough so he could hear, “Did you do it on purpose?” You asked, unable to contain your smile.

“I would never dare!” He exclaimed, leading you to the dance floor.

“My mine, who would be foolish enough to confound our masks?” You asked lightly, grabbing his hand and placing your free one on his shoulder.

His laugh carried above the music, it was contagious. As you both laughed, he leaned in and whispered to your ear while crossing the floor, “But to see Lumine’s face, will it not be priceless?” He asked rhetorically, more amused than anything.

Your eyes widened as your grip tightened, “You will be the one doing the explanations, I cannot even begin to tell her–”

“That you are a liar in love?” He burst out laughing.

You held back from hitting his shoulder and instead opted for silent dancing.

But it was true, you had lied to Lumine and you had lied to yourself for long enough about your feelings for Childe. So perhaps tonight was more than an enjoyable night, it could become a freeing night. A night of honesty.

Ah, who were you fooling? You were more than happy to not have spotted Lumine for the rest of the evening—part of you wondered where she had gone and if she was expecting you at the inn…

But the smarter part of you simply closed your eyes and held him tighter under the covers, there were more important things to think about. Like the feeling of your hearts thrumming against your chests, trying their best to be closer than you already were—a well-paced rhythm that as time went on started beating simultaneously, in perfect synchronization, like a flock of birds.

#genshin fanfic #genshin #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #ajax #tartaglia #childe #genshin impact #smut #physicalturian #ao3 fic #ao3

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rafent · 3 months

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✦ 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑 ✧

* dancer mastery drabble ( fell xenologue spoilers )

Because Rafal hadn’t the shoes, because Rafal hadn’t the lessons, because Rafal wasn't like them, he was not desired at the sides of the other children, unneeded to join their vainglorious black forms on the front lines. When it was learned that he could not transform, that his greatest talents sat only in raising a few nasty spells, his role was decided. Grouped with all the other nobody-sons and nobody-daughters of Sombron per expectation.

"There's a survivor here, failure. Clean it up."

". . .I was getting to him. You don't have to tell me."

Rafal stuck his stiletto into a gurgling throat, abhorrently practiced.

There was no satisfaction in picking up after the clutter of older, stronger siblings and their war paths imperfectly paved. Bodies half-ended, half-sundered, or crushed below the waist and not around the head, vitals and organs missed. Still breathing. In all such ways, Failures performed as expected, hunched to the thankless grunt work of ending foes that were mortally wounded. Snipping threads and draining veins on the battlefield in order to avail quicker of their Corrupted transformations.

Humans, Divine Dragons, and even other Fell Dragons. The distinction of the reaping act didn't matter. Even if Rafal should die he would be reanimated, too. As beasts did not squander the nutrients of their prey from brain to bone, for the Fell kind there was no waste in this either. His dagger moved again, vertical, sometimes horizontal from ear-to-ear. The skin yielding, his dreams flowering in the spilled red.

Imperishable labor for the brood it was, but Rafal wanted for more. Rafal was destined for more. He believed this, even as his unmoving feet and stationary hands turned blue from indolence where backlights failed to reach. Unable to taste combat, action, stage, applause though he yearned endlessly for that spotlight too. That connection, that praise, that dragonstone of his wildest dreams.

That dance.

...

“The sight of your form burns my eyes.” . . .what do you mean you can’t transform?

“You’d step all over my toes!” —the way that you are, it isn’t like the rest of us.

“You’re off-rhythm.” failure. failure. failure.

For centuries, Rafal watched and watched only. A danseur in unending reserve seated behind the tape of action - a wanting fell son, a lacking failed son. None would make allowances for a creature of dearth; of such freakish, loathsome eccentricity as a Fell Dragon more human than dragon, more weak than strong. Born different than the rest of them and made for different things, too.

I can’t with you, he traced his lament over the mound that marked another child who had succeeded only in his failure. Not with Nil, gone too soon,

. . .but perhaps, just perhaps, with her.

So it was. So it could not help but be. Engraved by his inadequacy felt as old as primeval time, his want so equally measured, the least of Sombron's children wanted it the greatest. To move as all sons and daughters of Fell Dragons did dauntlessly, born and killed and made and unmade to do. When the time came, he knew the steps of the routine like he'd learned them himself. Those cues of the symphony for every day he’d listened through the walls, the chest-rattling breath and wingbeats that had what was - should have been - his. The mortal duel between halves, consoled only by one spelled superior over the other.

Revanche tethered to one hand, the other raised for balance like an empty chalice filled only by Nel’s hand, her blood, his heart, his jealousy, he sought to imitate what he had seen even as one question surfaced. Was it the dance he wanted for or the partner he dreamed would make him whole?

He knew the answer but still his feet dragged to position; unquestioning of the motions. Hovered aloft the ground on crossed strings too tangled, unable to undo, left only to deepen, and only to do.

Because Rafal had the shoes now. Scales white and pink and brimming - pearlescent fangs like batons shaved from moonlight, wings to guide the devil's spins, lightning breath spilling operatic from fortified jaws. Stronger, better, bigger than anyone who would ever come before and after him.

Because Rafal had the lessons now. A twin at last to perfect his rhythm, beat, and pirouette. Emblems, seven in their array, used, tapped into, and cast aside like the husks of soft treats to feed this final masquerade. Brothers and sisters all graduated from a bloodstained stage he'd curated now only for two.

Because Rafal would dance now.

“At last, Father. . .I have finally succeeded.”

#◜ ₊ — 𝓡 ˚ ₊ 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ╱ drabble.#to no one's surprise the xenologue pre-canon is REALLY something else :'^)#rafal's unique experiences (also: nil) as a marginalized failure of gradlon society is a vast part of why he is the way he is #i had the vaguest outline of how i wanted this drabble to go #all i knew is that i wanted to incorporate 'shoes and lessons' no matter what. Absolutely Non Negotiable imagery

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icanbeyourjedi-writes · 2 years

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Dear Frankie Chapter Five

Summary: The next steps in the relationship take form, secrets are revealed, and the ugly green monster shows up at a wedding. Frankie and you have built a solid relationship, you two trust each other but will the past ruin what could have been a future Words: 5213 Rating: 18+ SMUT please don’t read if you are under 18 Warnings/Triggers for series: Frankie is active duty military, deployment, death, Adult language, themes, and SMUT A/N: So I don’t really know anything…ok I know nothing about Fayetteville, North Carolina. I am taking my own liberties on what it’s like there. Names of places may exist, but I have no idea if they are real or not as well as some of the events I have. But its fan fiction and there are no rules. While the reader may have some descriptions, I am doing my best to leave out physical characteristics. Just try to have a little imagination while you're reading this.

This story had come to be from that photo of Pedro in the white suit for the NYC premiere of Massive Talent. It made me think of an Angel, then talking with @tauralmie I kinda came up with this idea of a story where what if one deployment Frankie didn’t come home, and you had been dreaming of him so much, you see him wearing that white suit. That is how this little series was developed. As always a huge thank you goes out to @heythere-mel for reading before I post.

**Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. **

Dear Frankie Masterlist

Once Frankie returned he was quiet again, it was like part of him was missing. The part that had him opening up to you, the part that was letting you know him. He would hold you tighter at night, the kisses lasting a little bit longer each time. He held your hand more; a hand on your thigh when you were at dinner, lower back when he would guide you through a crowd. He didn’t talk about what happened while he was away, and you didn’t ask. Deep down you wanted to know, but you also knew that if and when he was ready to talk to you he would. It took him time before and you were more than willing to wait for that to happen again.

After reading your journal he had found, the cover doodled with ‘Dear Frankie’ he realized it wasn’t home that he missed…it was you. It wasn’t the ice cream flavors, it was eating them with you. It wasn’t the movies that were released, it was missing it with you. When he got to the part where you wrote to him that he was a romantic even though he didn’t think he was, it nearly broke him. You think so highly of him and he hopes that one day he would be able to truly be the man you deserved.

It was late June and even in the late evening it was hot. You were laying on his chest like you always do. It was your favorite day, Frankie Friday and you had the evening and weekend to spend with him.

“Biggest fear?” He asks out of the blue. You hadn't played this game in weeks. His fingers trail up and down your back

“Roller coasters” it was a no brainer you hated them with a passion. So much so that you are like a child throwing a fit when your friends drag you on to one

“What?!” He’s surprised “you just went on one with my a few days ago”

That was true, you did. The thing is as much as you hated them, you still went on them. Plus it was getting on a roller coaster with Frankie you felt safe with him so matter where you were

“Yes. Yes I did” you turn your head to look at him “but I’ve seen final destination enough times to know how that story ends” you give an awkward laugh, “I don’t like that once you reach the top and the little pully system lets you go, no one is in control of the ride. One tire slipping off the track, and it’s game over”

“You know it’s a movie right?” He smiles at you trying to get you to smile back

“They had to have inspiration from something” he chuckles at your dramatic inflections “ok tough guy what’s yours?”

“Spiders…” he laughs his fingers ticking your sides “too many legs”

“Ayyy, Frankie” you squirm a bit “seriously…” you try to pinch him. His hand catches your wrist just when you reach his side

“Dying alone…” his voice takes a sudden turn no matter how hard he tried to hide it

“Frankie…” you lift your head up to look at him

“Look, there’s a chance I could die alone on the battlefield. I try not to think about it, but there’s always that chance. And after being with you I’ve realized that I am scared of getting shot at or whatever and dying. I’m scared that no one will find my body. If I died out there,” he takes a deep breath “I use to believe that no one would have cared”

You close your eyes at the comment. Of course you knew that was a possibility. That his job meant maybe never coming home. But hearing him say it, it felt different. You know that people would have cared, people would have missed him. Your hand is over his heart and you can feel it racing “people would have cared, I would care”

He nods and takes a deep breath, “I used to think dying alone in general would be pretty terrible,” he moves his hand to take the one you have placed on his heart. “But now I have you, so dying here wouldn’t be so bad” he smiles while he wraps his fingers around yours, you focus your attention on his eyes “I love you”

“I…” you blink back a tear that is threatening to fall “I love you too”

You lean down to kiss him, sweet at first. Frankie wraps his arm around you and rolls you on to your back. Deepening the kiss, his tongue moves against yours in a dominance he has never shown before. You tighten your grip on his loose curls at the base of his neck. His hand lets go of yours; it slides to the hem of your shirt. Grabbing the fabric he begins to move it up slowly.

He breaks the kiss allowing you to breathe and try to catch up to your racing thoughts. He nips at your jaw before his attack on a sensitive part of your neck. Just below your jawline under your ear. A place he had learned that turns you to putty under his touch. He smiles against your skin when you moan out his name. The shirt rising higher and higher when your finally realizing what it happening

“Fffffrankie,” you breathe “shit…Frannnnnnk”

You can feel him smile against your skin, “mmmm” he hums

“Wait, jussssst…hold on” he kisses your jaw and lifts his head “please…”

“Is this too fast, do you want me to slow down?” his voice deep, his eyes hooded as he rubs his nose along your cheek

“Yeah, no…maybe, shit” you close your eyes and he chuckles, going back to sucking on your neck, sure to leave his mark “yes, Frankie. I…we…there’s something you need to know”

He lifts his head all the way this time. Propped up on his elbow, the other hand still on your ribs holding your shirt. You reach for his wrist trying to hint at him to let go of your shirt which he does. You roll over and off the bed. Standing up and you start to pace his room “Estrelita, baby what’s wrong?”

Baby your mind replays that word. He’s never called you baby before and it wasn’t that you didn’t like it, it was just strange to hear him say it. He calls your name bringing you back to the moment. He needed to know, you needed to tell him; but you also knew that this was going to change the course of your relationship. You stop, you cross your arms and turn to face him. You close your eyes and take a deep breath “Frankie, I’m a virgin” you shout and your head falls in shame. Your hands covering your face, worried about the words that just came out of your mouth.

He’s silent, he’s silent for what seems like a lifetime. You are terrified of what you just told him. A set of thick fingers wrap around your slender wrists, gently pulling your hands away from your face. You're still looking at the ground when you feel his fingers tucking under your jaw to bring your eyes to him “so….what?” he asks with a gentle smile and those puppy dog brown eyes looking at you; and you turn to look away afraid to look into those eyes.

Frankie,

I don’t know why I was so terrified. You haven’t been anything but kind, gentle and understanding. You have wanted to go slow and now only I can hope that you are still willing to.

“So what? SO WHAT!?!” you turn to look at him now, tears starting to fall, “it’s pathetic and embarrassing. I’m 23…and… and your…you are so experienced” you back away from him toward the door.

“Amor…what does that have to do with anything?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Frankie it has to do with everything! I have no idea what I’m doing…

“Everything…just then when you kissed me…most times…I don’t even know what to do with my hands!?!” You throw your hands in the air

He laughs at you falaying your hands about. His laugh causes you to give a small smile. “Estrella…” he says as you continue to tell him how you don’t know what to do with things. “Like when I play with the little curls on your head…do you even like that?” he calls your name

“What?” you hear him chuckling “it’s not funny Frankie”

“First of all, I like it when you play with my hair. I love when those gentle hands hold my face. I like when you look at me as if I’m the only thing that matters in the world. I also really like when you rub my head when we kiss. More importantly, don’t be embarrassed, you have no reason to be.” He reaches for your hands, which you let him take. He intertwined his fingers with yours “you are anything but pathetic, and if anyone has ever said that to you, they didn’t know you the way I know you”

Francisco,

How can you be so sweet and understanding? How can I be so lucky to know you and have you make me feel the way you do. I want you to be my first, I trust you but I was to tell you I wasn’t afraid that I wouldn’t be good, that I wouldn’t be as good I’d be lying.

The two of you made your way back to his bed. Sitting on the edge. Both of your hands resting in your lap. You told him about how you want it to be him, how it wasn’t that you were waiting for religious reasons or anything like that. You just wanted to be in love, you wanted a man to love you back and be there in the morning when you woke up. He nods his head in understandment. He moves one of his hands to cup your face, leaning in to give you a quick kiss

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, you nod leaning into his touch “this deployment changed me. Shit hit the fan real quick and I realized just how much you meant to me. How much you mean to me. I watched people I care about almost die and it scared the shit out of me knowing you didn’t know how I truly felt about you before I left. Life is short and you need to tell the people you love, you love them before it’s too late. And I love you” you smile at those words “and you waited for me in so many ways, I promise you…we'll take it slow and when you’re ready. I’m ready”

“I love you too,” you wrap your hand around his neck pulling him into a kiss, pouring your heart of gratitude into it “thank you”

I don’t know why I ever doubted you, you are a gentleman. Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve someone like you. Life is short, far too short and I shouldn’t be mad at you for something that you have no control over.

You were meeting him for a quick lunch at a bar. A bar you’ve never been to. As you sat and waited for him your bubbly server brought over another ice tea. He’s fifteen minutes late, Frankie is never late and you begin to worry. The little bell on the door chimes and you look over, you see him finally walking in. A pair of khakis covered in dirt, his green shirt damp and his hair more unruly then he wakes up. You put your hand up and wave at him when he looks in your direction.

He quickly rushes over to you, a hand on your shoulder and a quick kiss to the lips knowing he’s sweaty and gross. “Hey baby, sorry I’m late” he sits across from you when another ice tea arrives

“Hi, I’m Claire. What can I get you to drink?” She smiles and looks at Frankie and her eyes get a little brighter

The rest of the meal you watch as Claire flirts with the man sitting in front of you. Frankie is completely oblivious to the special attention he keeps receiving every time she comes to the table.

“Someone has a thing for you…” you comment when she drops off the little black book holding the bill

“Hmm?” He asks pushing around the last few veggies on his plate with his fork

“Call me…Claire, she even dotted the ‘I’ with a heart, isn’t that cute” you look at the bill rolling your eyes.

“What?” He grabs the little paper from the book

I shouldn’t be jealous; you were literally sitting across from me. Your legs touching mine, your eyes always on me. A smile only meant for me to see. You are incredibly handsome Frankie, and I don’t know why but when a girl flirts with you in front of me, I wanted to ring her neck. The way she rolled her eyes when you told her ‘Sorry I’m taken’ and the look of disgust when you leaned in to kiss me. Maybe I am way over my head in this relationship.

Jealousy is a strange thing. Here you are with Frankie’s fingers laced with yours and all you can think about is how Claire flirted with Frankie right in front of you. She flirted with him as if she had known him, you wonder if she was a past experience and what the odds were of ever running into one of them.

“Stop moving, I’m gonna burn you with this iron if you don’t stop” she hisses again

It was Heather’s wedding, you were a brides maid and it was your turn to sit in the chair but all you could think about was seeing Frankie in a suit and how handsome he was going to look. The only thing you hated more than weddings was being in a wedding. The hair, the makeup, the stupid fancy dress. But the longer you were with Frankie, the more you thought about being the one in white. A few more bobby-pins in your hair and you were finally finished.

It was Heather’s turn, as you sit and listen to the other girls talk about some new movie they are trying to get their men to go to there was a knock on the door. “I’ll get it…” you stand quickly and shuffle to the door.

“Tyler hey…what are you doing here? You know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the altar” you push him back a bit and step out of the door closing it behind you

“I know, I know…but will you give this to her?” He asks handing you a folded piece of paper, you nod taking the small paper “thank you, I’ll uh…I’ll see you out there”

As he walks away, you turn back towards the door and hear a familiar voice calling your name. The smile that spreads across your face could light up the entire city. “You look incredible” he moves closer to you whispering “la mujer mas linda aqui (the prettiest woman here) he whispers

“I’m the only girl here” you laugh and turn towards him, his lips quickly finding yours

His hands hold your waist, he smiles when he feels your fingers brush his cheek. “It will always be true Estrella, you will always be the prettiest woman in my world” he leans back in for a kiss but you turn your head and he kisses your cheek instead

“Heather is gonna kill you if you ruin my makeup” you turn back to face him, your thumb pressing against his pouty lip

“As long as it’s in your arms, I’ll die a happy man” he smiles, kissing your thumb before moving your hand so he can kiss you again

As you stand at the front with Heather, her and Tyler reading their vows to one another you look at Frankie who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since you walked down the aisle with one of Tyler’s brothers. You but your lip as you see him mouth the words I love you and you can not sit down and enjoy the rest of the day with him by your side

I have to say, I had honestly stopped thinking what this day would be like, then you came along and standing in front of all those people. Watching Heather and Tyler tie the knot I started to think what it might be like if it was you and me. You in your dress uniform, wearing all the medals I know you’ll receive and me in a white dress. I’m not saying you feel the same way about marriage but I also hope that one day that could be us.

“It is with my great pleasure to pronounce you man and wife…Tyler you may kiss your bride” the Preacher said and a round of applause that snaps you back to the present as you watch Tyler dip Heather and kiss her. “May I present to you for the first time Mr and Mrs Tyler Evans”

Pictures of the wedding party were complete, dinner was finished, and the DJ slowly started playing music for the guests to make their way to the dance floor. Heather and Tyler making the rounds talking to friends and family. You sit at the table, Frankie’s arm around you and your hand resting on his thigh. Frankie’s thumbs tap on the back of your chair, waiting for the perfect song to ask you to dance with him.

“Francisco?” a breathy voice comes from behind him and he turns his head in that direction “I’ve been waiting for over a year for you to call. You look good, How have you been?”

“I’m good?” He replies, the answer sounding more of a question “do I know you?”

“It’s Britney. We met at a bar a few years ago. You said you’d call and then you went M.I.A” she places a hand on his shoulder

He says her name a few times as saying her name would recall his memories of her, “Misfits…Friday night, middle of June, three amazing, fantastic, mind blowing orgasmic rounds. You were getting dressed as the sun was slowly coming up over the horizon said you’d call and then you were gone” she explains

You move your hand from his thigh, crossing your arms, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from saying what is really on your mind. You watch as she flexes her hand on his shoulder and moves closer to him. A new song starts, an upbeat tempo. Her free hand taking his, “dance with me, maybe I can jog your memory”

You clear your throat and she looks over at you, “oh hi, and you are?” She asks.

Sitting up and turning towards her “his girlfriend…” uncrossing your arms, you grab his face and pull him for a kiss. Fingers threading into his hair. After a few moments you finally pull back, Frankie having a goofy smile on his face, you look up at her wiping away the little bit of lipstick on his bottom lip. She drops his hand, tucking a stray hair behind her ear

“Girlfriend?” She says it, like a challenge “well, may I borrow your boyfriend for a dance?”

She was pretty, strawberry blonde hair. Just a bit longer than her shoulders. Green eyes, perfectly arched eyebrows. Fair skin complexion, looked like she spent every morning going for a run. Part of you, no…no more like all of you wanted to say no, but “it’s up to him” is what ended up coming out of your mouth.

She reaches for his hand again trying to pull him to stand up. He leans in, giving you a quick kiss, “I love you” he tells you before Britney is dragging him onto the dance floor.

Frankie shoves his hands in his pants pockets, you watch as Britney dances around him. He stands there awkwardly nodding his head to the music and you make your way over to the bar. The music picks up, she turns, her back now facing Frankie and she starts to grind her ass on him. He keeps his hands in his pocket and does what he can’t to keep his eyes up and not on her.

Heather found you at the bar, seeing Frankie with another girl, “I told him not to invite her, she’s trouble at work just like she’s trouble here” she said. Giving you a hug, telling you to take it easy but you find yourself taking a third shot of Whiskey hoping it would calm your nerves and it’s barely numbing the pain of watching your boyfriend with her. Especially knowing that she has been between the sheets with him. The music ends and Frankie tries to walk away, towards you. But the minute his hands are from his pockets she’s grabbing him and turning him back to her. It’s a slow song, it was some poppy song that you know Heather picked. A Jason Marz song to be exact. She places his hands on her hips and wraps her arms around his neck. You wish you could hear what he was saying, you wish you had the courage to go over and take your man back. And that’s when it happens, she pulls his neck and you watch them kiss.

“What the fuck?” You shake your head hoping that you're not seeing what you think you are. Sadly when you open your eyes it’s still happening

Reaching behind the bar you grab the closest bottle of liquor and pull it to you “hey…hey! You can’t do that” the bartender shouts

“Friend of the bride, just bill her…” you say, pushing yourself away. Grabbing your clutch and the bottle of tequila you make your way out of the hall and towards the elevator to your room.

***********

Her tongue slides across his lip, he grabs her shoulders and quickly pulls back. “What are you doing?” He asks

“Reminding you of our amazing night” she smiles, fingers finding the back of his head gently tugging the little curls

His hands grab her wrists and pull them away from him. “I have a girlfriend” he says

“Is it serious?” Her eyes roam over his

“Yes” he breaks eye contact looking for you “for the first time in my life I’m happy”

**************

Frankie,

I should have realized that someone like you would never be with a girl like me. Especially when I see the women from your past, and how perfect they all are. Your words were exactly that, just words. You are going to leave the minute you get what you want. I’ll just be another a notch in your belt

“Estrella…” he says, opening the door, “baby…”

“Have fun with Britney?” you put the half empty bottle of tequila to your lips taking another swig. Closing your eyes as the gold liquid slides down your throat leaving a burn in its trail

“No,” he says flatly “she isn’t you”

“That didn’t seem to bother you when her tongue was down your throat” you set the bottle down and stand up

You still have on your heels from the wedding, and have had far too much to drink to hold your balance. You try taking a step and stumble, Frankie catching you before you hit the ground. One arm around your waist, his other arm being clutched by your hands. Leaning against his chest you hear his heartbeat, the soothing that you’ve fallen asleep to so many times.

“She kissed me, it didn’t mean anything. You should know that”

“That line is just as bad as ‘she fell and my lips broke her fall’ line guys always use. Just fuck me already so you can leave and save me a worse heart break later when you leave again. Or am I not drunk enough for you?” you lift your head and try to stand a little straighter “leaving before sun up, it’s what you're good at right?”

“What?” The pain in his eyes is unbearable to look at

You didn’t mean it, you really didn’t. The alcohol was making you self-doubt yourself. And say things you never would have sober. Frankie had always been saying how you could do better, how he wasn’t the one you deserved. But truth be told, you always thought he deserved better. You’ve run into an “experience” and you were a goblin compared to her. The words hurt him more than you intended them too. The next words hurt him just as much as they hurt you “why are you even with me?”

You think you have your balance and try to step away from Frankie when you stumble. Grabbing the back of the chair to hold you up. Reaching for the bottle of tequila, fingers graze the bottle before he takes it from you. “How much have you had to drink?”

“I asked you first…” you glare at him

Watching him take the bottle to the bathroom and emptying the nearly empty bottle into the sink. You start to walk towards him, the heels getting in your way and you rip them off throwing them across the room “mother fucking heels” you yell

“I like who I am when I am with you. You make me a better person. You made me realize what love is, and how nice it is to have someone worry about you. I didn’t know she was going to do something like that…I don’t know what else to say but I’m sorry” he loosens his tie “Estrella, you are smart, caring, funny, beautiful…now, how much did you drink?”

Before you can answer, you're shoving past him, hunching over the toilet and throwing up most of the tequila you just drank. Frankie is there behind you, pulling your hair back and a gentle hand on your back. He reaches for a wash cloth before kneeling down next to you “I’m sorry…” you manage to say before hurling again into the toilet “you don’t have to stay” your elbow on the toilet seat and holding your head up

He hands to the damp washcloth, rubbing your back “do you want me to leave?”

You shake your head no, you wipe your mouth and fall to the ground. Your burgundy dress getting in the way as you sit in a pile of twill and satin, you try to push it to the side. “Have you had anything to eat?” He asks

“Just the dinner…4 shots of whiskey and that bottle of tequila” you throw your head back against the wall “why are you being so nice to me after what I said?”

“You're upset, I get it. I should have said no to her…now stay here I’m going to go find you something to eat and get you some water”

Frankie,

I was wrong. I was drunk and I know the words hurt you. And I don’t think I would ever be able to say I’m sorry enough. You’ve been nothing but the sweetest, kindest, gentlemanly…is that a word? Sure, you deserve the world Frankie and I never thanked you enough for taking care of me that night

You aren’t sure how long he was gone, the last thing you remember is your arm resting on the edge of the tub and closing your eyes. Wishing you could have said ‘I’m sorry’ better. You wake up to Frankie’s bed side empty and cold, your hair is a mess, and you're sleeping in one of his shirts. You don’t remember changing and you definitely don’t remember moving to the bed.

Your head hurts and even the slightest movement of the sheets sounds amplified in your ears. You manage to sit up, on the nightstand you see a bottle of water with a little note that says ‘drink me’, next to it a bottle of tylenol and another note in the same handwriting ‘take 2 of me’. You recognize the handwriting is Frankie and you hope that is a good sign that you didn’t piss him off too much. Then you hear his soft, faint snores coming from behind you. You slowly turn your head to see him sleeping on the small loveseat. His back pressed against the back of the couch. One leg up and the other tucked under. His head resting against his bicep on the armrest. The other draped over his stomach.

Your feet touch the cold wooden floor, standing up you feel a bit wobbly. Taking the two Tylenol and half a glass of water you make your way over to him. Hoping that you can make it up to him, apologize for what you said to him last night. You sit in the small space between Frankie and the edge of the loveseat and lay down. Pressing your back against Frankie and resting your legs on top of his. It’s like it's a basic instinct for him now. The hand that was resting on his stomach curls around you. Pulling you closer to him, his leg falling over yours…a Frankie Blankie, as you called it.

“Mañana, Amor” his voice still raspy with sleep. He leans down to kiss the top of your head

“Good morning” you manage to turn your body in his arms so you are facing him, you wrap an arm around him and bury your head into his chest “Pescado, I’m really sorry” you mumble against his chest

He rubs his hand up and down your back, a comforting gesture. How could he be so kind and nice to you after everything you said to him last night? You didn’t mean any of it, you were upset, confused, ‘it’s ok’ you hear him hum. Tears slowly stream down your cheeks, you shake your head against his chest and he hears you sob. His hand moves to tilt your chin up to look at him

“Kiss?” He questions you his head tilting down to look at you

You shake your head no again, “I haven’t brushed my teeth, and I’m all snotty and gross…” you thumb stroking against his hip “I’m just, I didn’t mean what I said last night…”

His thumb under chin, he leans in closing the small distance between the two of you kissing the top of your forehead. Before you can say something he kisses your nose, and then places a gentle kiss to your lips. You gasp in response, “It’s ok, I fucked up too, and I am sorry”

How was it possible he was blaming himself? Frankie really is an amazing man and a man you probably didn’t deserve. You knew he didn’t really have a reason to be sorry, Frankie was being Frankie. A kind soul, and wanting to make people around him happy. Frankie, learned of your insecurities that night, you sharing with him that you thought he was the one that deserved better. He told you, that he would never find anyone better, anyone more trusting and that you were the one for him.

Check out more of my work and other fantastic writers at @littlemisspascal and the wonderful library they have created.

#Pedro Pascal #Frankie Morales #Francisco Morales #Pedro Pascal Characters #Pedro Pascal Character Fanfic #Frankie 'Catfish' Morales #Triple Frontier AU #Christina Writes #Dear Frankie

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motsimages · 9 months

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I watched Joy Ride the other day and while it's entertaining and has some good ideas, it is not as original or fun as I thought it would be. I guess, for some reason, I was not expecting yet another americanada and I don't know if they are aware of it.

After the cut there is a list of things I liked and didn't like. Obviously, all of the spoilers are there:

Things I liked:

Actresses of that age when they start to disappear and that body type that never exists.

Lots of sexual jokes, some actually quite funny or well thought out and respectful (the assisted masturbation is chef's kiss), which is some stereotype breaking for women that age in the US, and Asian women of all ages in general. While it is a very sexual-based comedy, they are very respectful of the one who doesn't want to have sex. They are not mocked or ridiculed. They were given the instruction "have fun" and they all had fun in their own way.

A very gnc character that apparently is non-binary (I read it in comments, I missed it during the movie). Also very clearly neurodivergent with interesting moments and showing that her silly special interest actually helps.

Make up and costuming sometimes is eye candy (the k-pop costuming)

Some scenes are real gems, as are some dialogues. It actually threads quite well some things between them.

There are some international relationships commentary and some "get your head out of your ass, USamerican" (it still falls short to me but it is there).

Deadeye.

Things I didn't like:

As I already said, for a movie that spends quite a lot of time emphasizing about the difference between Chinese-Chinese and Chinese-American, it is still very American: the Chinese-Chinese star of a Chinese show looks very western and speaks in perfect English with his fiancée, his Chinese-Chinese co-star who studied in the US. He is Christian, which fine, there are Christians in China, but I am going to guess they are not like Christians in the US so what was all that "leave room for Jesus" thing? And also, we don't see other beliefs and how they manifest in real Chinese-China so we can't know that Christianity is a minority religion in Asia (unless we already knew).

As a matter of fact, for a story that happens partially in rural China, there sure are a lot of people who speak English quite well, including an old grandmother. Sure, the adopted one who doesn't speak Chinese is at a loss, but they mainly say "oh USamericans never learn other languages" and that's that. She had two friends who were going to serve as interpreters and we barely see that happening. And when we do, they just make up whatever translation they want.

They are all (except Deadeye) terrible people and not very good friends, generally speaking. They use "have a real job and make a career" as a way of showing that you are mature enough and old enough when they tend to behave like teenagers most of the time. They are all very self-centered (which is interesting because an Australian-Chinese makes the point of saying that Chinese people don't hold individuality as a rule, as opposed to USamericans BEFORE they all get angry with each other because of being self-centered).

I can suspend my disbelief for quick travels and no jet-lag for sci-fi and cyberpunk, but not for a more or less realistic set in the present movie. They go from the US to China with no jet-lag. In theory they are only 4 days in China but they travel around it in unsual means of transportation because they can't get on a bus or a train in a way that would take them weeks to reach their destination. They even travel to Korea in those 4 days.

Oh they get their passports stolen. Yes, the Chinese one living in China too, apparently because she worries as much as the others. They do not think of calling the Embassy to fix it as soon as possible, they just keep travelling. They even go to Korea without passports and back to the US. So basically, not having passports doesn't affect their trip in any way whatsoever.

They kind of insist on "respecting someone's decision no matter what" as a good friend behaviour but sometimes your friends make terrible decisions and your job is telling them. The one engaged to a Christian?? She loves sex, she just stopped having sex and pretended she never had sex to be with him. And he lied about that too. And they had been dating for 3 years. When one of them finally confronts her to that (in the worst possible moment and possible way, because as I said, they are all terrible people), another one says "it's her business!" as if it was not one big mistake to base an entire relationship on a lie. And we are not really shown why she likes him other than that he is very hot, so why is she waiting?

That rule, btw, applies to some things only because when it comes to the adopted one saying "I don't want to meet my birth mother", it can be pushed and manipulated.

The men are all eye-candy, which is not necessarily a critique for this kind of movie but they are also very hot according to the Western taste, including having rounder eyes or being bronzed. They criticise the adoped one for not liking Asian men and 1) dismissed her one-time fling with a guy from Kazakhstan because they don't know if that counts as Asia in quite a racist dialogue but I guess it's alright because they're Chinese-American! and 2) they seem to not like real Chinese men either if what we are given is the Western taste of men instead of the Chinese taste.

They constantly tell the Chinese who was adopted that she is so white and criticise her for it, but then they are unaware of their own biases towards other cultures (unless other Chinese people are being racists towards Japanese, for instance). Which could be a good point to make, the way we all have our biases and xenophobia and all that, but they somehow don't know how to make it because it really centers all around "the white one" (adopted). Even after it is found out that she was actually born from a Korean mother and a whole family that had previously accepted as one of their own now rejects her, her friends still mention how white she is. There is a whole story there with the Korea-China relationships and we miss it because it's more important to make jokes.

While they grow more accepting of Deadeye, the scene of bonding between the main character (who didn't like them) and Deadeye felt forced and out of the blue. And also, they are only superficially more accepting. When Deadeye suggest doing their annual best-friends travel to some very US place that they like, they quickly ignore them because it is not as fancy as Paris.

They spend the whole movie mocking the adopted one because she can't eat Chinese food but then they go to Paris and say that they don't have to try French food. It all feels so hypocritical that even comments as silly as this one just add to the whole mess with xenophobia and racism this movie is.

Also, how is the adopted one "so white"? Her white parents wanted her to study Chinese (which she did for one year or so), they introduced her to the only Chinese family so that she had a connexion with her culture. She could have practiced Chinese with them and learned more things about Chinese culture. I guess she didn't do it because she always wanted to fit in, but this is more me putting things together than an actual real explanation in-world.

The message of the movie in the end is basically the same US message of success and hard work. So going to China serves no more purpose than just doing shenanigans that they wouldn't do in the US because that's what travelling is for, I guess.

f you find yoursefl recognising you and your friends in the three girls of this movie, you better find other friends. They all use each other shamelessly, lie to each other, manipulate each other, can't listen to each other and accuse each other of whatever terrible thing instead of facing their own emotions.

#If there is nothing better on tv it works #but I wouldn't watch it on purpose

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dontbelasagne · 2 years

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! The Power of The Doctor spoilers !

as much as The Doctor being DT again is divisive right now, I think it actually speaks to a lot of what went on during this episode and mirroring the inner conflict we saw with The Master.

This whole era has been a summation of The Doctor containing way more than they originally thought, having a sum of knowledge across an expansive history with an ancient soul and new faces to look upon the universe. Having found out about some being taken away from her, it would lead to some crisis of identity. who is The Doctor? are the guidelines they have followed really substantial anymore? what actually is keeping them to being The Doctor?

as much as it is glorious fanservice to have included classic series faces, on a contextual level I think it also shows The Doctor at a tipping point in her own regeneration and attachment to that cycle. whilst nothing is forever, she is destined to carry this legend of The Doctor and shape what it means for the universe and people who are touched by their actions.

Now comes the Master with their newfound hatred, having just been on the threshold of goodness with their Missy incarnation. as she said to Twelve, she is in "two minds" about being good, and having previous Masters rattling around inside your head, you could see how easy it would be for the message of "to be good, I need to be more like The Doctor" could get obscured. Given what we saw in tpotd, it seems that The Master himself has reached a point of abject loneliness, hungry for what The Doctor can achieve, but misguided on why The Doctor was able to be loved, to be remembered. it would drive him mad.

now what does this mean for The Doctor, seeing one of her closest friends ruin himself to this point? obsessing on the supposed greatness of being able to become legendary, no matter your face? as much as The Doctor knows it's about sticking to their rules, never failing to be kind, making the hard choices. you can imagine that it gets tiring to hold a monument of a name. and getting too big, too loud, has its drawbacks as we saw with Eleven.

so in a sense, The Doctors own consciousness could decide to give more time to prepare, more time to realise the ever evolving stakes of their existence in this universe by first transforming into a familiar face, with the next incarnation wondering why they have been told to be patient. it seems like Gatwas Doctor is stuck in a similar consciousness threshold in the trailer, with the open blue sky and not knowing what's going on, seemingly expecting to be able to rush in to their next life. but no, having just seen what The Master has done, and the lengths he went to become them. there needs to be some level of security, with The Doctor knowing how The Master is the closest thing to what and who they are. how fragile this existence can be.

The Doctor needs time to work out who they are, and what better way than the face which fought through the oncoming storm, and a friend who knew when to say you can stop now, that they are are capable of helping the universe still.

#doctor who spoilers #doctor who #the power of the doctor #david tennant #ncuti gatwa #donna noble #jodie whittaker #14th doctor #dw

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strawberry-cowmilk · 2 years

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Mc gets slut shamed pt. 2

Sorry for the delay guys, but here’s the second part with Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor. The Mc is once again female here. Also this is not proof read, so apologies for any mistakes again.

For context, please read the first part. Link:

Content warnings: slut shaming, strong language, crying, verbal abuse, trauma, mentions of alcohol use in Asmo’s part, (slight) violence in Satan’s and Belphegor’s part, spoilers for lesson 16 in Belphegor’s part (not really, but enough to rise suspicion for some)

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Satan

He was peacefully reading a book when his phone suddenly rang. Once Satan saw Barbatos’ name light up the screen he could tell something had happened. When he received the message, he immediately sprinted from the house of lamentation to the castle, not caring about the fact that he brushed past a very confused Mammon on his way. When he arrived at his destination, Satan didn’t waste a second. He started kicking down every door until he found Mc in one of the rooms. He was very angry. Angry at the fact that somebody had hurt his Mc. Barbatos, who watched the avatar of wrath destroy door by door didn’t actually mind the little rampage. He could fix the doors later anyways. When Satan found Mc, his anger melted away a bit upon seeing her pained expression. He sat down next to her on the floor and draped one of his arms over the human’s shoulder. ‘Mc, who did this?’ He asked and Mc knew her family would in big trouble because they had officially provoked Satan’s wrath. Before telling him what happened, Mc tried assuring Satan that he really didn’t need to throw the ones who upset her in the fireplace. While Mc was explaining what happened in the human world, Satan was silent and listened carefully to her words and paid attention to her body language. If Mc seemed like she was about to cry again in any way or form, he would hush her and pull her body closer to his. When Mc was done talking, Satan took it as a sign for him to speak. ‘Mc, lowly fuckers like them have no right to be telling you what you should do with your body. You should be allowed to act and dress in the way you want because it is your choice, and not that of some shitheads who call themselves family.’ he explained while slowly raking his fingers through Mc’s hair. She nodded in response to his words and Satan smiled. ‘Now, do you want to go to the cat café? I heard they got new kittens.’

You don’t want to know what happened to your family the next day in the human world. Let’s just say Satan did more than throwing them in the fireplace.

Asmodeus

When Barbatos told Asmo over the phone that Mc is back early, he started panicking a little. He wanted to throw a big surprise welcome home party for her, and the rose petals he ordered from Akuzon to decorate the bed and bath with had not arrived yet. But, when Barbatos continued talking and telling him something was wrong, Asmo’s anxiety turned into worry. He left the house of lamentation and came to the demon lord’s castle in almost a matter of minutes. ‘Where is she?’ he asked the demon butler. His hair and make-up got messed up from the running but Asmodeus didn’t care this time. He wanted to make sure his human lover was alright. She was the only romantic partner he had who appreciated him for him and not his just body or lust. Barbatos led the firth born to the guest room Mc was in and left him at the door. Asmo knocked on the door to let Mc inside know somebody was coming before opening the door. He felt his heart break at the sight of Mc crying on the floor. ‘Oh honey, come here. You don’t deserve to sit on the floor.’ He said as he reached out his hands to Mc and led her to the sofa. The pair of them cuddled on the sofa for a short while before Mc started explaining what had happened, and let’s just say Asmo knows how it feels to be slut shamed. After all, he attended many parties and met many drunk people but eventually he didn’t care anymore when some drunk demon would throw insults his way. He kind of thought it was funny when something like that would happen. The thought of one’s own family harassing somebody in such a way disgusted him. ‘Mc, their name-calling does not reflect the beauty in your heart. So, let yourself cry it out and don’t feel bad about it afterwards.’ Asmodeus lifted Mc’s chin up and gave her a kiss on her cheek. Mc smiled at his act. ‘I love you.’ she said before nuzzling her head in the crook of his neck. ‘And I love you too, sweetheart.’

The next time Asmo would visit the human world, he would be sure to visit your family’s house when nobody is home and write insults to them on the walls in waterproof marker and leave.

Beelzebub

He grabbed one of Belphie’s pillow cases and stuffed it full of food from his secret stash in their room before rushing to the castle after Barbatos’ call. Once there, Barbatos told Beel where Mc was before watching him run in that direction with the speed of light. He opened the door and rushed to Mc’s side and dropped the pillow case full of food somewhere on the floor next to him. Beel immediately wrapped his arms around the human in a hug and squeezed her close to him, but not too close that he pressed her against himself too hard. ‘Mc, are you okay? What happened? Did I do something?’ he questioned. Mc quickly reassured him that he didn’t do anything wrong, but her family did. She explained what happened on the beach earlier, and some things they did to her over the years she lived with them and it broke Beel’s heart. Family is important to him, and it hurts him that Mc’s own family mistreats her like that. He reached into the pillow case and pulled out one of Mc’s favorite snacks and gave it to her. a small ‘thank you’ escaped her lips before she started to eat the snack. While she was busy consuming the food, Beel started speaking. ‘I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Mc. But those times are over now and I won’t let it happen to you again. Besides, we all know their words are not the truth.’ he explained and held out the pillow case. The two spent the rest of the day sitting on the floor eating whatever stuff there was to find in the pillow case, and there was some funny stuff in there. Like a whole jar of pickles, multiple cans of canned beans and olive oil spray.

The next day Beel got your family’s supermarket card banned so they can’t get their food anymore. At least not from there.

Belphegor

Belphie was sleeping when the ringing from his phone woke him up. He answered the call and his eyes widened in shock. He left the house in his sleepwear and went to the castle. After Barbatos led him to Mc, he rushed to her side to pick her up from the floor with all his strength and place her on the bed. ‘Mc, try going to sleep.’ he hushed her. ‘You can tell me what happened after you’ve calmed down a bit, okay?’ Mc nodded at Belphie with tears in her eyes. While Mc was taking a nap, Belphie held her hand the whole time and didn’t move from his spot next to the bed on the floor. He didn’t even go to sleep himself. He waited patiently for the human to wake up. When Mc finally opened her eyes, Belphie pat her head. ‘Hi, have you calmed down a little?’ he asked, his voice soft and gentle. Mc nodded again and explained everything, and Belphie could almost feel his hatred towards humans come back to life. Well, not all humans, just those scumbags who claim they are your family. When Mc was done speaking, Belphie climbed in the bed next to her, still holding the human’s hand. ‘Go to sleep again.’ He told her. In her dream, Belphie showed Mc a garden full of flowers using his powers. It was his way of telling her ‘I appreciate you, those fuckers are wrong in every way, I love you.’

The next day, Belphie secretly put enough melatonin to make a horse pass out in your family’s food and chocked them out with his tail in their sleep.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #om #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #diavolo #barbatos #angst #f!mc #tw abuse #tw verbal abuse

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the-kaedageist · 2 years

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Spoilers for Campaign 3, Episode 17, as well as Campaigns 1 & 2

He wakes in a body with a resurrection scar across his chest, haunted by the memory of climbing out of his own grave. This happens, sometimes, in the world he lives in. It’s rare but not unheard of. The dead do not always stay dead in Exandria.

He has a faint memory of a half-elven man with black hair and a sad smile. “I can’t do much,” said the man, “but you died protecting her. The least I can do is offer another chance.” He doesn’t even remember who she is.

Second chances are fickle, he learns. He wakes up without even remembering his name.

He flees the area where he was buried, where there are likely people who would know him, repacking the earth over his grave to hide his escape. He ends up in town after town - Byroden, Kymal, Stilben. He gets a job on a merchant vessel and sails to Wildemount, finds a place for himself in Darktow working for the Revelry. One night, he drinks too much wine and tells his story to a stranger in a bar. The purple tiefling nods as though he understands.

“Your past doesn’t make you,” the tiefling says. “I was supposed to be someone else. I was someone else. Hell, my brother also woke up in his own grave. Be who you are; who cares who you were?” There’s a certain sense to this logic, ringing true in his mind.

He’s used many names since that day when he woke up, but none of them have sounded right. When Kingsley Tealeaf asks what he truly wants to be called, he doesn’t know what to respond. What is his name? He still doesn’t know. The Champion of the Matron of Ravens gave him this second chance; that is the only thing he can recall.

It takes three years for his memories to return, and even then, they only come in flashes.

He’s in Marquet by then. He’s established a flourishing trade in wines from Feolinn to Ank’Harel, with a cut of his profits going to the Revelry. He has a stable life, and he’s even somewhat happy.

A loud voice breaks through the evening calm. “NANCY! I’ve been looking all over for you!” He peers around the wine barrels in his cart to see a woman all in pink running up to a group of adventurers in front of a tavern. They are a strange group; one of them looks like a faun? The halfling in the group turns around, giving an exasperated but fond smile to the yelling woman in pink—

It is like being struck by lightning. Orym.

He doesn’t even know his own name, but he knows the name of this sad halfling man. Orym wasn’t sad in his memories, though. Orym wasn’t sad before he woke up in a grave.

The adventuring party hasn’t noticed him, shielded as he is behind the wine barrels in his cart. He studies them. Orym is sad but smiling; he jokes and seems very comfortable with them all. A person made of stone - an earth genasi? - laughs loudly. A woman who looks even more dead than himself plays with a strange puppet.

Orym is sad, but Orym is also happy.

He knows he can’t burden Orym with this, not until he remembers more of who he is. Not until he remembers more of who Orym is. So he does the hardest thing he’s ever managed since the first day of his new life - he signals the horses to drive away.

The barrels are brought to their ultimate destination, a wholesaler who works with Meatman Imports and Sexports. He sails back to Wildemount with gold in his pockets, his memories remaining frustratingly out of reach. He returns to Darktow. Kingsley laughs at his predicament, like his life is a trashy novel.

“I don’t think memory matters,” Kingsley says. “You are who you are in this moment. But if you really want to know…I know someone who can help.”

That’s how he meets the fearsome Sapphire of the Lucidean.

She’s not nearly as terrifying as the stories make her out to be, although she does immediately try to convince him to let her give him a tattoo. After hours of conversation, she presses her palm against his forehead and casts Greater Restoration. The memories return like warmth from her hands.

His name is Will.

He is from Zephrah, on Tal’dorei.

Orym is his husband.

It takes time to find him again. He scours the streets of Ank’Harel, inquiring at the tavern - the barkeep doesn’t remember the strange adventuring party from months before. He considers returning to Zephrah, but he’s not sure he wants to open that can of worms - not until he’s sure of the reception he’ll receive. He finds himself lying on the deck of his ship, staring up at the stars as the waves in the harbor gently rock it to and fro. That is when he receives a message from the Sapphire, who seems to have added him to her messaging rotation.

“Hey Will!!!” her cheery voice chirps in his ear. “We killed so many fish people today, they tried to steal Fjord’s ball again! Did you find your husband? Hope you’re not going—“ The message cuts off abruptly before it is finished, an inexplicable flash of sound in the night.

“Hello, Sapphire,” says Will. He can reply, right? “I haven’t found him yet.” Ruidus is high in the sky, a deeper red than normal; he wonders if it means something. “I don’t suppose you know anyone who’s good at finding people?”

The next day, the Sapphire appears on his ship via teleportation with a tired-looking blond elven wizard in tow. He doesn’t know why she’s decided to help him with this, but with a grin, she produces a mirror for scrying. When he asks her why, she shrugs. “It’s very romantic, you know?” she says. “You died and now you’re alive again, searching for your true love! It’s like something out of a novel.”

“She adopts people,” the elf tells him. He’s been mostly standing off to the side, watching the ocean; Will can’t quite place his accent. “You will never understand why. She is simply your friend now.”

There’s something charming about being bullied into friendship from sheer force of personality. Worse things have definitely happened to him.

The Sapphire starts to scry. (“You must call me Jester!” she insists, but he never once called the Tempest ‘Keyleth’ and he intends to show her the same respect he showed the last woman who gifted him with such kindness.) For several long moments, she is lost to an inner world, magic beyond any that Will has had access to. There is a flash of green across the horizon. Her eyes blink open once more, and she smiles at him. “I found him,” she says. “Ezrin can teleport us!”

Will expects the elf to complain; instead, he smiles indulgently and asks where they are going.

Of all places, Orym and his friends are in Whitestone. Staying with the de Rolos.

There is a bit of chaos when they initially teleport in; Ezrin and the Sapphire end up facing off against a gunslinger before they establish that they’re friendly. The gunslinger turns out to be Percival de Rolo himself, because everyone Will meets these days is both famous and slightly deranged. Will has only heard stories about him; it is like being in the presence of royalty.

“Well, here’s the thing,” the Sapphire says, sitting down with Lord de Rolo at his long dining table. A small tiefling girl runs by being chased by an older child who looks mostly human, except for the faint point in the boy’s ears. Lord de Rolo has fed them a fine meal, and even Ezrin the wizard looks less annoyed. “This is my friend, Will! His husband is somewhere here; don’t you want to help us reunite them?”

De Rolo doesn’t seem to know what to think. “Your husband?” he repeats, focusing on Will. There are dark circles under his eyes; this is a man who is deeply tired, even though Will can also sense that he’s content. Maybe it’s all the children.

“Is there a group of adventurers staying with you?” Will asks. He doesn’t even know the name of Orym’s adventuring party. When he’d known him, Orym hadn’t even been the type to join an adventuring party. But Will has become a pirate and a merchant, spending years not even knowing his own name. They are both changed irrevocably. He wonders if they’ll still fit together as easily as ever, or if some things that shatter can never be put to rights.

“Ah, Laudna’s party,” de Rolo says. Will doesn’t know who Laudna is, but he suspects he’s about to find out. “They are staying in the east wing. She has an…affliction that we are assisting with.” He says the last with danger in his voice. Will suspects he would not want to meet this man in a dark alley.

De Rolo leads them to the east wing; the Sapphire is practically bouncing on her heels as she walks. Ezrin feigns disinterest, but Will catches him studying portraits of generations of the de Rolo family as they make their way down a long gallery corridor. These two from Wildemount are out of place. He hopes he hasn’t led them both too far astray. Maybe they can take him with them, if Orym does not wish to see him again.

He’s surprised to discover he’s nervous. What if Orym has moved on? What if Orym has forgotten him? What if his return throws a wrench into a happy life, a life that Orym’s built from the ashes of their shared life together? Fear roils in his belly like indigestion.

De Rolo opens the door to a different sitting room and ushers them inside. Orym’s adventuring party is very large; they all turn to stare at the visitors, distracted from a game of some sort of cards.

The Sapphire, an expert at breaking the ice in every situation, opens her mouth and begins to speak, and that’s when Orym spots him. Their eyes lock. Orym’s jaw drops. His face is pale, his eyes are bright. Will has never stopped loving him, even when he didn’t remember he existed.

Orym has always been fast; he’s across the room before Will can blink. Will meets him in the middle without realizing he was moving, everyone around them fading into the background as he stands in front of Orym with tears shining unshed in his eyes.

“Hey,” he says. It sounds stupid the moment the word leaves his mouth, but he’s committed to this path, now. “I’m alive.”

Orym opens his mouth. He closes it again. His eyes are suspiciously damp; Will is impressed, because Orym has never been much of a crier. In lieu of words, Orym holds his hand up. It has been nearly seven years, but Will knows immediately what he’s asking. He kneels down so Orym can press his fingertips to his face, tracing the planes of his cheek, his jawline.

“I didn’t remember for a long time,” Will whispers hoarsely. “The moment I did…I had to find you. Even if you’ve moved on. Even if there’s nothing here for me any longer.”

Orym closes his eyes; a single tear streaks down his cheek. “I would never move on,” he whispers. “Not away from you. There will always be a place in my life for you.”

Will feels dampness on his own cheeks as well. “That’s all I need,” he says. “A place.”

Orym tugs him in. Will meets him halfway, still on his knees, enveloping Orym in a hug and pressing their foreheads together. He hears someone in the backroad coo, “awww” - he thinks it is the Sapphire but doesn’t have it in himself to care.

Will pulls apart after a long moment. “I may not be the person you remember,” he confesses. He winces. “I’ve been a pirate.”

Something in Orym’s eyes shines brightly. “I’ve stolen a priceless artifact,” he whispers.

“You have not,” Will says fondly. “I can’t believe that.”

Orym grins and concedes. “Ok. I was cajoled into stealing a priceless artifact against my will.”

Will can’t help himself; he reaches over to brush his fingertips through Orym’s hair. “And you’re an adventurer now. Look at you.” He’s delighted to see that Orym still blushes.

Orym takes his hand. “We’ve both changed,” he says. “I want to hear everything. I want to tell you everything. I need to introduce you to my friends.” He smiles, filled with so much disbelieving joy that Will is honored to have been the one to instill it in him. “Will. I’m so glad to have you back.”

As they hug again, both of them crying, Will hears in the background, “you’re from the Feywild?!“ It is the Sapphire’s voice, in a tone that tends to be followed by trouble.

He pulls away from Orym and breathes in deep. It’s time for introductions.

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grimrester · 3 years

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Deltarune: Whose Choices Matter? (major spoilers for all routes)

I'm so extremely sure others have discussed this to death already, but I'm obsessed with the themes of "choice" in Deltarune. What's really stuck in my head are these three things:

1. At the start, you, the player, are told no one can choose who they are in this world and that your choices don't matter. The character you make gets thrown away.

2. Pretty much the second you're in the dark world, Ralsei starts telling Kris that their "choices are important too."

3. Toby has said many times that there is "only one ending" and, in one interview, that there's "something more important than reaching the end."

Lots of people have said that Toby was lying since there obviously are differences in both chapters depending on the choices you make. But I don't think that's true. Toby's the type to use clever wording to tell half-truths, but not straight up lie.

It's technically true that there's just one ending. No matter what the player does, the king still ends up in jail. Queen still stops her plan and joins you. Kris still opens up another dark foundation.

The changes in each playthrough are only indirectly the result of the player's actions. They are instead direct results of how the characters treat Kris and each other because of how you acted. Your actions don't matter and can't effect how the story plays out in and of themselves. But because all the key moments - the pillars, Ralsei revealing the story of the Roaring, etc - hinge on the characters' actions, their choices are the ones that matter and the ending is always more or less the same. This theme of choice and the effect of your actions on others is central to pretty much every "changeable" part of the story.

Let me provide some examples.

1. Minor Details

If you toss away the manual Ralsei gives you in chapter 1, he'll put a trashcan in Kris' room instead of a stand for the manual.

This is a really small, pretty insignificant detail. It doesn't affect the story. I personally never touched the manual again even though I kept it. If you toss it, Ralsei still gives Kris/the player tips on how to play. But Toby still programmed it in. He programmed Ralsei to notice you threw away something he worked on, and to treat you differently as a result. Maybe just as a joke, sure. But there's many other instances of characters remembering your actions and treating you accordingly.

Another example: If you step off one of the first electric wall switches before Noelle is done crossing to the other side to stand on the other button, she scolds you and then pulls the same prank on you. Kris looks hurt in response - because they're getting punished for something you did. It's a lot harder to brush this one off as just a joke when it ends with someone feeling hurt.

2. Kris' Dialogue

The player chooses a lot of dialogue for Kris. But sometimes Kris speaks on their own or chooses how they say what they're told by the player to say.

After the Spamton NEO fight, if you choose to tell Susie you're okay, Susie will think about how Kris is speaking hoarsely, and so she thinks Kris probably isn't okay. If you choose to say you're not okay, Ralsei says Kris is yelling. No matter what option you choose, Kris chooses to do their best to communicate that they are definitely not okay. It's Kris' choice here that matters and effects how the characters react, not yours.

3. Recruiting

Chapter 2 hammers in the idea that sparing enemies is important by introducing the recruiting mechanic. But recruiting doesn't seem to actually do much yet, aside from giving you some extra dialogue and dojo challenges.

At one point, there's some tutorial text from Ralsei that mentions how from now on, fighting an enemy instead of sparing it will make it unable to be recruited. Then it specifically mentions that there might be times where breaking bonds will make you stronger. There was something like this in chapter 1, too, where Ralsei seems to realize after fighting the king that the party can't always spare everyone.

This is in pretty stark contrast to Undertale, where the fight/spare mechanic basically meant choosing between life and death for any character. The character you're fighting doesn't get any say in the matter in Undertale. In Deltarune, you (or, more accurately, Kris) don't have the power to kill someone. You can only beat them up badly enough that they choose not to join you. At some point in the later chapters, making someone not want to join you might be a better decision.

4. Berdly

If you just focus on the Queen, Berdly tries to remove it himself, damaging his arm in the process. When he wakes up in the light world later, he still can't move his arm.

In the first battle with Queen, Berdly is attached to one of her plugs. You can loosen it to free him, like you did with the Werepires.

You didn't hurt Berdly. But if you choose to ignore him to focus on finishing the fight instead, his own actions in response cause him to be hurt anyway.

5. Snowgrave

Kris doesn't seem to have the ability to kill. Neither does Susie or Ralsei.

But Noelle does.

It's important to note that the player doesn't have complete control over anyone in the party except Kris. At the start of chapter 1, Susie makes her own choices in battle. Even in chapter 2, you can't take equipment off her unless you're swapping in something else (she tells you "Hands off!" if you try). The characters can just straight up refuse to follow your/Kris' orders if they want.

If you command Noelle to brute force puzzles, to "get" the ring, to ice all the Darkners, she gets used to hurting others to feel stronger. Then she can use Snowgrave - the only action that specifies it is lethal - in the fight with Berdly. When you tell Noelle to use Snowgrave, she refuses several times. She even tells you that she "doesn't know a spell called Snowgrave" to get you to stop. If you keep badgering her, she finally snaps, and chooses to cast it.

The wildest part about the Snowgrave route, in my opinion, is that there doesn't even seem to be any reward for doing it. In Undertale, the whole appeal of the No Mercy route was the epic boss fights that couldn't be played on any other route. The reward was the challenge. In Snowgrave, you skip almost half of the story and multiple boss fights. And for what? A slightly harder version of a boss you can also fight on any other run?

You can manipulate Noelle into making a terrible choice and presumably killing Berdly, seemingly just for the hell of it. After you return to the light world, the only things that change in the story are that Berdly doesn't wake up and Noelle is scared out of her mind if she sees you wearing her watch. Susie still walks you home. Toriel still asks Susie to stay over. Kris still slashes the tires on Toriel's car and opens a new foundation. Nothing major changes.

All Snowgrave seems to do is get you to the same ending faster.

Deltarune is about choices, sure. But more accurately, it's about how your choices affect the people around you, and how that informs their choices, and so on.

So, what's more important than reaching the end? It's how you - and the characters - chose to get there. It's about the journey, not the destination.

#deltarune spoilers #deltarune #deltarune chapter 2 #deltarune theory

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hhawks · 2 years

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THE KIND OF GIRL YOU DREAM OF

✰ starring: lady nagant/kaina tsutsumi x fem!reader ✰ synopsis: in which you spend your nights wishing your girlfriend would stay. ✰ content: mha manga spoilers if you squint, post paranormal liberation war arc (i haven't read it so if anything's wrong crucify me), kinda toxic nagant ngl, clingy reader, kinda angsty. i really just put my tummy ache on the keyboard n it wrote this. very self indulgent ✰ warnings: oral (f! receiving), non descriptive fingering, slight dom/sub dynamics ✰ word count: 2.3k ✰ a/n: you ever just want something you can't have bc that's me with kaina tsutsumi

“kaina.”

her name. when was the last time she’d heard it? when had anyone called her anything but nagant? you watch the way she tenses at the doorframe, hand sliding down the dark oak. “hey.”

“hey?” you don’t rise from your place in the bed, your knees curled to your chest, the way she had found you here, on this monday night. “hey?”

“what else do you want me to say?” her voice is tired, you can hear the traces of strain and phlegm and tiredness behind it. “i’m sorry? i am, you know.”

you roll your eyes, leaning back against the headboard. “you could at least sound genuine about it. you know, after leaving for three weeks without so much as a warning.”

it was true. you’d gone to sleep with kaina one night only to find her gone the next morning, a whisper in the wind, not even a goodbye to detail her absence. it wasn’t an uncommon phenomenon; you know kaina’s resilience to duty was stronger than anything else. more important to her than anything.

and that included you, her girlfriend.

“i can’t stay long.” there they are. the four dreaded words you fear every time she comes back home. “i have another mission in about three hours. but i thought i’d come by.”

“come by your own house?” you can taste the bitterness on your tongue, the embers that coat the tip of your words.

she sighs. it’s so obvious she’s tired, and you curse yourself for being so harsh with her, but you can’t help the ache in your heart that tattles on you. the subtle beating of your pulse that rises ever so slightly when she walks forward, planting one knee of the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight. “‘m sorry,” she whispers, and when you look at her, you can’t seem to find even a trace of disingenuity in her eyes, no matter how hard you look. “i really am. i wish i could stay.”

“then stay,” you whimper, reaching forward to wrap your arms around her neck. “please. ‘m tired of sleeping alone, kai.”

you watch her eyes close, the way the moonlight paints the angles of her face silver. the dusty gleam of light cracks through the room, padding softly between two lovers, destined apart. “please,” comes your broken plea, begging, desperate.

she laughs. not a happy, melodical one, but one that’s full of air. full of resignation, full of stop asking, please, stop asking for what i cannot give you. the words aren’t spoken, but they’re there. they’re inkling at the back of her throat and the tip of your tongue. hanging between your mouths, taunting you.

“can i kiss you?” she asks, violet eyes glassy. your heart breaks in two, in pieces, into shards that pierce your fingertips with every inch of skin you dare to touch. like electricity, buzzing in your nerves, synapses crying and jumping and fizzling. you want everything and anything, and so you answer her with a kiss.

she’s warm and sweet, familiar and sighing with a deep, finally. like she’s been waiting weeks for the taste of your tongue, to feel the softness of your skin under the pads of her fingers. you think, maybe she has. maybe she thinks about me. really, thinks about me. there’s the scent of need and desire as she climbs further up the bed to you, enveloping you in her arms, the strong stench of her work and the constant reminder that this is temporary. that her time here is borrowed, a breather between jobs and that you’re not really a priority. just a hobby.

but she’s here, you remind yourself, as her lips trail from your lips to your jaw. you giggle softly, a small tickles, leaves your mouth in a breath. and she laughs with you. she’s here with me, she came to me. are your insecurities unfounded? you’re trying, valiantly trying not to think as she holds you, rucks her hands up your sleep shirt, warm palms to chilled skin. “kaina,” you whimper. “more, please.”

she nods. silent. ever mum, working more with her hands. her fingers twist in the cotton of your shirt, and she glances at you for permission. you nod shakily. “yes, yes.”

goosebumps raise along your exposed skin, your nipples pebbling. she throws your shirt over her shoulder, already forgotten as she watches you shiver. “fuck,” she breathes. “‘s cold, isn’t it? d’you wanna lie down?”

“‘s okay,” you murmur, tugging on her own clothes. “take ‘em off, wanna see you.”

you help her along, undoing the belt and the back of her costume, the dark fabric falling away under your fingers. scar upon scar is revealed to you, stories she’s told you of her time in the hero commission, in tartarus. you shed tears as she rocked you and only whispers as comfort, her arms holding you tightly against her chest. darkened sinew trailing down, down, down.

only the moonlight is privy to this moment between two lovers, who sit across from one another in silence, some sort of twisted intimacy as you look. just look. watch the way her chest heaves as she breathes, new bruises, dried blood. your heart aches to rip itself out of your chest and fling itself next to her own, but you hold it steady. instead, you reach an arm out, tentative hands finding sensitive skin. “kaina,” you mumble, tracing a new scar, barely healed, dried scabbed skin pulling itself taut to heal her.

“it’s nothing,” she assures you, but there’s a warble in her voice that makes you doubt. you’ve never called kaina a liar. she’s the most honest person you’ve ever met. but as she winces, obvious pain rippling as you caress her bare skin, you know candour has never met her tongue tonight. “baby, lay down.”

you look at her, unsure. uncertain creases your brow, makes you ugly. she reaches forward and thumbs the wrinkle away, and guides you to lay on your back before her. “wanna make you feel good,” she smiles against your cheek. “let me?”

kaina hovers above you, lips trailing from your jaw to the hollow of your throat, biting and sucking. you whimper, wrapping your arms under her arms. “kai, d-don’t, it’ll show—”

“i want it to,” she peers up at you. “so people know you belong to me.” she licks a forming bruise, blue and purple and lovely. she leaves a trail, wet and featherlight down to your navel, where the band of your panties awaits her. she digs her fingertips under the elastic, snapping it once. you jerk slightly, a pent up breath expelled from where you were holding it.

“so sensitive,” she smiles, nudging the tip of her nose against it, the only thing separating her from your clit that flimsy piece of cotton. “been keeping it good for me?”

“mmhm,” you whine. “haven’t cum since the last time you made me. promise.”

“good girl,” she affirms, her tongue poking out to run a wet stripe over the crotch of your panties. “so good.” her tongue is so warm, you can feel it even over the cotton, and it makes you clench. just the heat of her mouth is enough to see you come undone, and you think that there’s nothing more you could ever want or need than her pulling them off right now.

you whine. “off, off,” you’re kicking, trying to rub your thighs together for friction. “wanna feel your tongue, kai, please?” you must look pitiful, because her eyes soften and her jaw goes slack, and her fingertips are moving faster than you can register to pull the soft fabric down your thighs. it feels cold, her fingertips tracing patterns into your skin, so soft and teasing they make your toes curl. there’s a beat of silence that passes between the two of you as she helps you toe your panties completely off and she just looks. looks at the way your pussy drips in front of her, silver glistening against the expanse of your skin. milky hands find their way to your thighs, her grip strong as she pulls you closer to her.

“i’ve missed this pussy,” she breathes, nudging the tip of her nose along the slick of your folds. “holy fuck, i’ve missed your pussy.”

“missed y’too,” you whimper, backing your hips up against her face. “thought of you every night, wish you’d—” you cut off with a sharp gasp as she runs a flat stripe up from your hole to your clit. the customary “fuck,” comes out with a shudder.

“wish i’d what, hm?” she hums into your cunt, latching her lips along the weeping mess of your cunt. “honestly, i could just— fuck, i could just breathe you in.”

you feel the steady rise and fall of her breath against you and you whine, “kaina, ‘ts cold, cold.”

“answer me.” she punctuates her command with a tight smack over your clit and you jerk in surprise, squirming under her grip. “wish i’d what, baby?”

you huff, a breath lost between your lungs and your throat. “wish, w-wish,” you muster all you can to answer her but it just won’t come out, not with her stiff tongue drawing circles around the sensitive bud of your clit, fingers rubbing your thighs soothingly. “wish you’d s-stay.”

if you catch the way she tenses you don’t bring it up. her shoulders stiffen and her grip on you gets ever tighter. “wish i’d stay, huh? needy, clingy little girl?” deflecting, evading. all she’s ever known, never one to let herself get tied down to one single person. it’s all kaina’s known, the fastest way to escape, how to fit herself in the grooves of the world just right so she can slip right out. she’d be lying if she said you didn’t soften her, mellow her down enough to get her into your bed, but the tendency remained.

was it enough to lie for the night?

but you beg so sweet, tantalising cherry on your tongue. you command her, you rear your weapon against the tirade of her resistance. you make her feet heavy-laden, sinking into the hardwood floors, tired and guilty with the stench of abandoning you. it hurts, pierces her where she wishes she couldn’t feel, to see you unwrapped and vulnerable in front of her. to know that you trust her, love her even, and she’s thinking of leaving.

could the truth just be denied for the rest of time?

“please,” you’re begging as she keeps her tongue on you, fingers teasing your inner thighs. “please, don’t leave. stay.”

she needs you to shut up. to be quiet. so she sucks harshly on your clit until you’re crying, whimpering pathetically, melting right into the palm of her hand. she gasps when you clench hard, gushing without so much as a “cumming, c-cumming!”.

“there we go,” she coos, rubbing a finger along your clit to ease you through your orgasm. you’re glassy-eyed, peering down at her, hands flexing and reaching for her. “feel good?”

you hum, nodding shakily. “c-can you,” you breathe through words. it’s hard to find your tongue. “kaina, can you c’mere?”

why does she obey? why can’t she find it in herself to step back, to wipe the slick and drool off her chin and vanish into the twilight, just as she’s done every week since you met? maybe it’s the look of pure loyalty in your eyes, glimmering gold under your heavy eyelids. maybe it’s the whipping wind in your voice, icy yet melodic, calling her name. kaina. kaina. kaina. how long has it been since she’d heard it?

and how long has it been since she’d responded to it?

kaina shuffles forward on her knees, hovering above you. “‘m here,” she whispers, lowering herself down so her forehead presses to yours. “‘m here, okay?”

she fingers you to the edge of your sanity after that, watches you in silent horror and wonder as you cum, thrash under the weight of her gaze. she begins to feel, for the first time in her life, the need to stay. the desire to curl up next to your heaving body as you come around from your orgasm, and hold you. to ignore the mission before her, and the war behind her.

(it remains a desire, one she never sought after, and one she never dared to give up on.)

“stay,” kaina hears you whisper as you drift off to sleep. your eyelids are drooping, the torrent of the night finally catching up to you. she thinks it’s over, the navy skies pulling streaks of grey through the horizon, detailing the start of her work. until she moves to leave, and your hand, half asleep, grips hers. “i love you, kai.” you mumble.

(in the morning, you won’t remember you said that. in the morning, you’ll wake up alone, and wonder if the night was a dream. all that remains of kaina is the bruises she painted into your skin.

in the morning, you won’t know that she cried, over you, over this. over your slumbering body, knowing that she could never bring you into her world. knowing that she could never cross into yours. you won’t know how she stayed until the last second, wanting so badly to stay.

you won’t know that in her mind, she gave up.

you only realise when you never see her again.)

#lady nagant #lady nagant x reader #kaina tsutsumi #kaina tsutsumi x reader #mha smut #mha wlw #writing tag #nagant baby <3 #wlw writing #sapphic

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