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honeykaes · 11 months

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—𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

⟡ invocation tcg strip competition feat. kaeya, cyno, ayato, itto

⟡ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact

⟡ disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns, fingering (kaeya + ayato), blowjob (cyno), masturbation (ayato), thigh-fucking (ayato), cunniligus (itto), piercings (itto), monsterfucking adjacent (itto), description of “pretty” and “beautiful”, unedited

Kaeya has been a fan of Genius Invocation TCG for a while now. Wanting to add a bit of spice to the game, he asked if you wanted to play a strip version of it. As his rules went, everytime your card got hit, you had to take an article of clothing off. You weren’t expecting him to utilize so much strategy—a smirk curving on his face as he watched you remove one article of clothing after the other as he only managed to have his shirt off.

As he placed his TCG card of himself down, utilizing his skill—you clicked your tongue in annoyance as he hit two of your cards with his ice attack as they were fully defeated from the Melt reaction. Kaeya grinned tapping his finger on your thighs. He knew you had two options at this point: you could either take your undershirt off or your underwear. With a sigh as you shakily move to peel your undershirt off of you, revealing your chest, Kaeya hummed, pressing his hands to your thighs.

You gasped feeling his chilled hands nip at the plushes of your thighs, murmuring there was a better option than that. Your moving shivered feeling his fingers creeped up to your clothed cunt, swiping a finger up and down your covered slit. A shaky breath escaped you when he pressed the pad of his thumb on your clit while Kaeya narrowed his eyes at the darkening fabric beginning to get coated with your arousal.

Humming in amusement, Kaeya curled his fingers on the band of the underwear guiding the fabric slowly down your legs, licking his lips admiring your entrance, glistening in your slick that was finally fully revealed to him. His fingers swiped up and down your slit, gently brushing the bundle of nerves every so often. Hearing you trying to stifle your moans, Kaeya chuckled, finally dipping two of his fingers inside of you.

He lazily pumped them, curling his digits so they would brush up and massage your velvety walls. You threw your head back, cunt fluttered down at his fingers, as Kaeya soon slid the fingers out, slapping your clit as your whole body shook.

“How long are you going to make me wait, lovely? It’s your turn after all,” he cooed, letting his fingers continue to thrust inside of you—thumb pressing tight circles on your clit. You could barely focus your shaky hands, throwing the dice down as you whined once more, clamping tightly against him.

“Aw come on now. It’s your chance to turn the tides. Everyone loves an underdog. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me now, hm?~”

Cyno knew how eager you were to finally win against him. You were always trying to use tactics and schemes to finally beat down the champion. Cyno could only sigh with a small smile as you challenged him to a game once more, but with a twist. This game would involve the parties stripping one piece of clothing every time they got damaged. You knew he had a soft spot for your physical form, the stares and hands that would often linger on your body when he got a glimpse of your nude form—this could be the thing that finally shifts the tides!

Or so you thought.

Your eyes would go agape as Cyno defeated one of your cards with his signature. You could only look back up to him, scarlet eyes solely darkened and eating up every part of your skin now revealed to him. Out of all your sessions and duels, this was the most determined you have ever seen him.

“And I believe this is game set, beloved.”

As your last character falls, you take a shaky breath. Your hands leave their cross position on your chest that were covering your now hardening nipples as you finally slipped your underwear down—throwing them across the room. Cyno tongue dipped out,coating his dry lips basking in your flustered nude form. He got up from his position walking in front of you before he gently grabbed your chin, leaning up at him.

“Shouldn’t the victor relish in the spoils of war?”

Your eyes snapped down noticing the prominent bulge pressing against Cyno’s pants. Your face feels hot as Cyno lets go of your chin, observing as you shimmied his pants down—cock snapping to attention. His cock was curved, precum drooling out of his brown tip as it shuttered as you gently took a hold of it. You pumped it a couple times, letting his arousal coat on the rest of his length hearing him suck a sharp breath in.

You opened your mouth widely, sliding his cock inside of your mouth as one hand remained on his hip and the other tightly clasped on the base of his cock you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You cracked your hand, pumping him as you sucked—swirling your tongue around his slit as his hand rested gently on your head letting out soft grunts.

As the flat of your tongue grazed along a vein, you felt him twitch in your mouth as he soon groaned loudly—cum soon spurting out of him.

“Don’t swallow yet. Just hold every drop in your mouth,” he grunted, watching you press your thighs together to try to appease your own lust. As he leaned away with a pop, he gently grabbed your chin once more beckoning you to open your mouth showing off the globs of his cum resting on your tongue.

“Swallow every bit of it and I might consider giving you a token of my appreciation for challenging me to such an interesting game.”

The young head of the Kamisato always seemed to be scheming in that head of his. He hated to admit it, but he found himself being very greedy when it came to you—wishing nothing more than to have your lips on top of his as his hands wandered across your beautiful figure. His eyes observed the papers you were tiresomely working on. The two of you had been slaving away trying to prepare for the upcoming Genius Invocation TCG International Competition.

As Ayato placed his quill down, closing the report he was working on—he grabbed your attention, asking if you’d like to indulge him in a bit of TCG. As you agree, reaching out for your own deck he asked if you’d like to spice it up—when a card received damage, the person had to disrobe an article of clothing.

Ayato had no intention of winning this battle; however, he’d win the war.

He basked in your attention and your trembling lips as he bit down on his gloves, pulling it with ease with his teeth. Soon his hoari fell down with it. As his sister’s card fell, Ayato let out a chuckle undoing his obi, covering most of his glowing pale skin. He could see how flustered you were, your moves getting less focused making it harder for him to not seem as careless with his moves that would cause suspicion.

“Seems it’s not my day, is it?” he hummed, nonchalantly.

His Thoma card fell next, leaving his ki-nagashi to pool on the tatami mats. He was only in his tight briefs, your eyes focused on the hard erection pressed firmly against the thin fabric. You visibly gulped trying to focus on defeating his final card, but paused noticing Ayato cupping his clothed hardened cock. A groan escaped his lips, letting his fingers squeeze at the mound.

“My love, pay attention. You have one more move before you defeat me,” he cooed at you. You took a deep breath activating your charged attack that would end the game, but your gaze remained on Ayato’s lower half—hand snaked underneath his briefs to pump his cock. Another breathy moan escaped from him as his final card, himself, fell down.

Drifting his half-lidded eyes to you, he dug his bottom lip against his teeth, soon freeing his cock from the confines of his underwear. His member slapped against his chiseled abdomen, quivering, longing for touch once more.

“It seems I have lost this round. You think you can pity a poor man,” he whispered in your ear, nipping at your earlobe. His hands made their way to your body, pressing down as it glided itself throughout your form. He briefly brushed across your chest as pleasure shivered across your form.

He grasped onto your yukata, exposing your beautiful legs to him. With a click of his tongue, he grazed his cock by your soft thighs letting out another groan in your ear, before pushing it between the plush pair.

“I don’t think a loser like me deserves your pretty pussy right now,” he cooed in your ear, lifting his hand up to slide down your clothed slit. He easily swiped the fabric back letting his fingers swirl themselves on your throbbing clit.

“...But that doesn’t mean I can’t use these beautiful thighs then, huh?” he murmured. Soon thrusted himself between your thighs, languishing in the way your slick was now coating his fingers as he played with your clit. Precum smeared across your skin, causing a lewd sound to echo out every time Ayato thrusted.

Your body shivered at the pressure and attention he was giving too your clit, melting in his touch. With a choked grunt of your name, Ayato’s hips stuttered—ropes of cum spurting out as some managed to stain themselves on your thighs. With a content sigh, his fingers plunging inside of you went faster, thumb flicking on your clit much faster as you quickly came undone as well.

Watching you try to catch your breath, he pressed his lips against your neck—nudging his softening cock against your leg.

“If you’re tired we can stop here…but something tells me you're desperate to have something other than my fingers to go inside of you, heh.”

A challenge?! You’re asking Itto for a Genius TCG Challenge?! Don’t you know who you were asking, your boyfriend, the one-and-oni Itto and the master of these cards?! Itto could only cackle as he flashed you a confident smile, he’s totally down to take you down. You could only chuckle yourself when you asked if the two of you could play the strip version instead. A red bloomed on Itto’s cheeks as he tried to fight the grin on his face to not seem as eager.

“Yeahh? S-Strip TCG?! You’re gonna be nude in no time, baby!”

As you two began gearing up, getting your decks in order—his eyes lit up in determination. He wanted to ogle your form again, his cock was twitching at the very thought of seeing you nude again.

You easily began to hit his characters causing severe damage as Itto began to scowl and pout. With a loud groan he ripped off his gloved and spiked bracelets only to sputter in shock as his best buddies card fell—his belt, jacket and shin guards going down with it.

“You’re cheating! You must be! You defeated three of my cards! I’m in my boxers and you still have your chest covered and pants on!” he whined in childish frustration. You could only laugh as you finally claimed victory with his final card being defeated.

Itto pouted and quickly scrambled out of his boxers and crossed his arms only for you to gawk at his form. His cock was hardened, pulsating with its many inhume ridges and Prince Albert piercing decorated around it. His cheeks reddened again as he drifted his eyes away from yours in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I got…overly excited since I figured if I won, like I was suppose’ to, I’d want to see how much you could fit me in that mouth of yours…” he sighed. “But since I lost because you cheated!...It doesn’t seem fitting anymore…”

Your body shivered as you felt his large palm press down on your closed legs widening them up. Itto’s eyes gazed down at the thin undershirt covering up your chest—pebbled nipples poking from the thin fabric. Itto groaned once more, feeling his cock twitch again.

“Just you wait! When I win next time, I might just have to test out every part of your body with my cock,” he muttered. Itto grabbed onto the helm of your pants, quickly taking them down along with your underwear. Watching your entrance tighten and coil against nothing made the oni’s mouth water. He leaned his face in, breath hot against your cunt causing you to shiver.

Itto pressed the flat of his tongue along your clit, choking back the moan as he tasted your slick. Your body shivered, feeling the difference of temperature between Itto’s hot tongue and the coldness of his piercing. He swirled the muscle along the sides of your clit, feeling your legs on either side of him shiver in delight.

He curled his tongue, letting it rapidly flick against the bundle of nerves. Your hands shot to his hair, moan ripping from your lips as he continued to abuse your clit. As you felt yourself getting closer to your high, Itto shifted causing you to whine slightly,fat tongue prodded at your entrance before sliding in. The vibrations from his humming seemed to add to the different temperatures and speeds Itto was using to thrust inside of you, as your legs soon began to cave on his head.

Itto slid his tongue out once more before going back to your clit, sucking tightly at the mound before leaning back and flicking it rapidly with his tongue. He would continue switching back and forth between them, nails digging into the plush of your thighs. He shifted his lips trying to quell the throbbing pain of his cock desperate to be inside of you.

As he went back— sharp teeth grazing your clit as he sucked hard once more—your hips bucked and back arched, cunt spasming as you finally reached your high. Itto struggled to hold you down, caught off guard by your intense organism still lapping at your clit burning from overstimulation. You slowly came back down, a layer of sweat on your body trying to catch your bearing, Itto leaned up from your drooling, messy cunt.

The bottom half of his face was coated in your juices, a cocky smirk on his face as swiped his tongue to play with his piercing.

“‘Nother round? Loser has to give head!”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #cyno x reader #cyno smut #ayato x reader #ayato smut #itto x reader #itto smut

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sophswritingthings · 5 months

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Mizu x Fem!Apothecary! Reader who is also her wife and she is bandaging up mizu after the fight in shindo dojo

pairing: mizu x apothecary!fem!reader

warning(s): mentions of blood/injury, swearing

a/n: YOUR MIND MY FRIEND. also that sceneeeeee….. 😳

summary: you've been staying at your shop, somewhere warm, somewhere safe. that’s when mizu stumbles in, your wife, battered and bloodied.

word count, 751 words / 4,109 characters

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you were humming, softly, tapping your fingers to the beat of the music in your mind. you were mindlessly cooking something for yourself, between mixing up medicines and herbs.

everything was quiet; serene and simple.

you had settled down to eat, with a small cup of sake beside your table. you took one small sip, before the door to your shop burst open.

you flipped around, scared out of instinct.

but then.. there was mizu, your muscles relaxing. your wife—your lovely samurai wife who always managed to get herself into some kind of trouble.

and that much was true; because there she was, covered in blood, some of which you could assume wasn’t hers—with a deep gash on her shoulder.

you swiftly collected yourself, walking over to help her inside. you settled her against the wall, pressing your door shut to keep the warmth inside. you settled in front of her, gazing her up and down.

you removed her hat and glasses, placing them to the side to see those beautiful eyes you loved so much. with a soft smile, you placed a soft kiss on her lips, pulling back with narrowed eyes.

“what did you do?” you hiss, “you need to be more goddamn careful, mizu, or were seriously going to have a problem.”

“It was a simple duel, (y/n), I'll live,” she narrowed her eyes back.

“yet here you are, covered in blood.” you pulled yourself to your feet, collecting mixes of herbs. as well as a needle and thread, which you kept on hand, in case things like this happened.

“most of it isn’t mine, my love,” the faintest hint of a smirk crossed her lips. you roll your eyes, settling down beside your wife.

“I assumed as much, darling.” you grumble, pulling off her overcoat. you pull down the corner of her undershirt to reveal the deep wound nestled on her right shoulder. “did you at the very least get what you were looking for?”

she nods, adverting her gaze from the wound. “I have,” her voice is rather soft, like it always is with you. though it’s still raspy, and masculine, keeping up her appearance. “I will leave tomorrow to find him.”

“you act as if I am not coming with you,” you narrow your eyes again, dabbing a poultice to her wound. mizu hisses, the stinging pain causing her eyebrows to furrow.

“because you won’t be,” her gaze flicks to you, resting on your slim, brown eyes. “you must stay here, and stay safe.”

“no,” you finish cleaning her wound, turning to grab your needle and thread. you gently begin to thread the needle in her skin, “I’m not going to stay here while you're miles on miles away from me, doing who-fucking knows what. probably getting yourself killed—“

“listen,” she placed a hand on your cheek, turning your head to look at her. “I cannot take the chances that you will have even a hair on your head hurt. i will live, (y/n), and finish my task. that or be given death, so be it.”

“you cannot..” your words trail off, “you can’t do that to yourself, mizu. please, think about taking me with you.. if you are to die I want to die with you.”

she shakes her head, “I will not let you throw away the rest of your life because I am gone,” she hissed. “stay here, please, my love.”

you press your forehead to hers, shaking your head with tears in your eyes.

“I-I can’t, mizu, I can’t,” you stumble with your words. “I-I love you. take me with you, please.”

mizu searches your expression, wiping the tears from your eyes. she ponders on it for a moment; you weren’t going to back down until she agreed, she knew you. your determination is why she loved you so very much, why she married you.

“okay,” she finally conceded, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “okay. you—you can come.”

“r-really?” you sniffled, your eyes wide. you had basically forgot about stitching her up.

“I would not lie to you,” she hissed. “but you're going to listen to me. if I tell you to run, to leave me, you will. alright?”

you sigh, finishing stitching up her wound. “alright,” you whisper begrudgingly.

she pressed another kiss to your forehead, allowing you to finish stitching her up.

“I love you.” she whispered, her blue eyes locked onto yours.

you smiled softly, returning her kiss on her cheek. “I love you, too, my darling.”

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a/n: it’s short but I enjoyed writing it <33

#mizu x reader #mizu #blue eyed samurai #new fic #fic #fanfic #fic request #request #ask #asked and answered

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novantinuum · 2 months

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mmmmmmm. messy ass ramble thoughts ahead. this is not coherent, it is 1am, you have been warned.

so i've been thinking about that "i can fix anything! i can just keep messing up and fixing things forever, and you'll never have to know or think about any of it!" line during steven's lil manic panic moment in the ep everything's fine in the context of like... og SU episodes

this whole lil manic slip is one that's like... it seems a little extreme for him as a character at first, when one looks at the situation on surface.

but i think it really does shed a LOT of light onto one of his deepest fear. the same fear he's harbored for a good damn deal of the show.

"i didn't wanna hurt anyone!"

this moment comes just a few eps after the S3 finale 'reveal' of rose shattering pink diamond. in that final scene of the season, steven gets 'confirmation' from garnet that this happened, and seems to accept it for what it was- a difficult decision made amidst a treacherous war.

but also, he Doesn't.

because he's the legacy rose left behind. because each and every day he's growing more into his power. because now, with this reveal of rose's decision to shatter on the table, he's putting each and every decision he makes under a microscope.

he had no choice, he claims. she wouldn't let him help her.

he had no choice. it was self defense.

but is that true?

isn't that the same thing his mom probably told herself before ending a gem's life forever?

even though she poofed bismuth and holed her away for suggesting the very same idea??

rose became a hypocrite... so what if HE becomes the hypocrite, too?

see, with steven... i think it's really easy in the main show to sorta... observe all his actions on the mere surface without considering the deeper tickings of his psyche. like... take lars being brought back to life. from audience POV, that's a good deed. steven just saved someone with his magic! positive moment.

but genuinely... i think this was one of the worst moments of his entire life. i think he's still haunted by it- by the fact that he can just "fix" people in that way. and i think fixing jasper's shattered gem only made the specter of that day worse.

steven believes his role is to be the Shield.

the protector.

the one who is willing to do whatever it takes- even up to turning himself in for a crime he didn't commit- to protect his family and his friends.

and like, we all know that it's not steven's FAULT that lars died. BUT- he still died while under steven's protection.

and so the same way steven blames himself for "hurting" bismuth, jasper, and eyeball, he blames himself for killing lars. mentally, he Takes Responsibility for his death. yet another tick mark in the box of horrible "mistakes" he's made, yet another tick mark landing him just a little closer to the rose he's desperately trying not to become.

and worst of all... it's a mistake he "covers up."

because his tears are able to bring him back from the dead entirely.

and years later he realizes this is true for gems as well ;-;;;

so yeah, i absolutely think lars' death was also at the back of his mind when he said that line at the beginning

what steven saw in the depths of his mind as he was panicking there was him slipping down a slippery slope of violence that he couldn't escape from

first, causing harm to other gems and calling it self defense...

then, letting your friend die protecting YOU when you're the one who should be protecting him and facing NO consequence for this misgiving because you bring him back to life

then, expressing anger so visceral it can shatter floors, destroy whole rooms, flip vans. out of control. inexcusable.

then... outright shattering a gem in a duel while training to hone that anger. once again, facing NO consequence because you bring her right back.

then, that sudden, terrifying thought of "what if i shattered white diamond"

like, steven has absolutely no framework by which to separate his actions from genuine desire or just plain abstract thought.

he has no framework by which to understand the beautiful tool of adding a "man would it be fucked up or what-" to the beginning of those sorts of intimidating, dark musings.

he has no framework by which to understand the complexities of his trauma, and the way in which genuinely fighting back against someone he once called an enemy might feel empowering- instead, it would seem he's disgusted in retrospect with how deep he pressed into that fight, how much a part of him ENJOYED it, all because of the horrid destination it led to.

anyways at this point steven thinks he has now become the Hypocrite like his mom, and that he's just destined to hurt everyone around him forever but never be punished for it and Ouch

this post has no end, these were just ramble thoughts, the end. goodnight. i am sleepy and need to prepare to make Wig tomorrow bc OH boy i am con crunch.

yeehaw .

#jen rambles #su #su future #steven universe #su meta #???? maybe???#it's messy but it is Thoughts

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checkoutmybookshelf · 10 months

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The Quartet That Started It All

As followers of this blog will note, this is not actually the quartet that started it all for me, but it DID launch author Tamora Pierce's career in the 1980s, and Alanna remains absolutely beloved among Pierce's heroines. Let's talk the Song of the Lioness Quartet.

In a classic case of "if I can't do this as a girl, then I'll do this as a boy and I have a handy twin brother to go full Twelfth Night with," Alanna of Trebond begins The First Adventure by dressing as a boy to train as a page in Tortall's royal court. This book introduces all our main characters and establishes Alan the page amongst his peers and Alanna as she finds herself and her place in chivalry.

One of the other amazing things about Alanna's story overall is that she begins it absolutely terrified of her own magical gift. Her arc includes learning to work with her magic rather than to fear it, and that's a twist on magic users that I really appreciated. We often get overly confident magic users--indeed, we'll get TWO of them later in the series--but it's rare that we get magic users who are fully aware of their powers and are still absolutely terrified of them. So of course, the story and the world and Pierce herself keep throwing Alanna into situations where she has no choice but to develop and use her gift. It's so, so good. This first book covers Alanna's page years, and we move into her squire years in book two.

In the Hand of the Goddess really expands on Alanna's key relationship with Prince Jon on Conte, Duke Roger of Conte, and Geroge Cooper. Alanna moves into a wider world of adult politics and stakes in this book. From being able to defeat an older, stronger, and more experienced opponent in a duel to developing her healing skills when a wound puts her out of commission during a war, Alanna cements her skills, connections, and position in society. This culminates with unmasking Roger as an attempting regicide and the accidental reveal of her gender.

This book is really, really good, and extends Alanna's childhood fear of magic to her fear of Roger specifically in a really natural, logical way. I could say more about the details, but these two books have an episodic vibe to them, so I won't spend too much time exploring every single key plot event.

The Woman Who Rides Like a Man sees Alanna spending her first year as a knight in the desert, with a Bazhir tribe. She becomes their shaman by way of self-defense; she murders their first shaman when he tries to murder her for "being unnatural." Then it falls to Alanna to train three magic users for the tribe, and this is where we see more nuance into how different magic users relate to their powers, from sheer hubris to fear to "this is just part of me, let's do this." It's a phenomenal experience for Alanna, and she learns as much from her students as they do

Book three also sees Jonathan bitching to hell and back about having to be king, which is not a great look, and it's one Alanna calls him on. He spends most of the book alternating between pitching a hissy fit, begging Alanna to marry him, and training to take over as Voice of the Tribes. The interesting thing here is that Alanna refuses to marry Jon. He is trying to fit Alanna into his own fairy tale, and she very much goes "That isn't our relationship, I can't do that. We aren't meant to be like that, and that's ok." If I could inject that lesson into humanity's collective head, I would. It's well done and it's great.

Lioness Rampant picks up on Alanna's travels after she leaves the Bazhir, and eventually sees her return to Corus with a magical artifact to help secure Jonathan's position as king.

There's also the teeny tiny complication that Alanna's twin brother, Thom, has resurrected Duke Roger. Absolute chaos ensues, and Roger almost manages to take out the entire court during Jonathan's coronation. Nobody should have to kill an evil sorceror twice, but Alanna did.

If you want to dive into Tamora Pierce's Tortall Universe, starting with Alanna is absolutely a good choice. These books hold a very soft spot in my heart, and they're never not engaging.

#tamora pierce #the song of the lioness #the first adventure #in the hand of the goddess #the woman who rides like a man #lioness rampant #alanna of trebond #jonathan of conte #ya fantasy #books & libraries #books and reading #books and novels #book recommendations #books

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fic-over-cannon · 4 months

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Always and Forever

jason todd x f!reader

ao3 link

summary: jason tries to end things after a bad patrol. you won’t give him up without a fight.

tags: f!reader, smut, kissing, biting, piv sex, unprotected sex, fingering (mention) cock warming, orgasm denial (kind of), belly bulge, size kink (if you squint), overstimulation, creampie (if you think this is misproperly tagged please let me know) minors and ageless blogs do not interact

rated e (mdni) | wc: 5.5k

a/n: this is my first time writing smut (or a fic of this length) so please be gentle! if you find jason a little ooc, i’m still working on getting his ‘voice’ right, so just consider him one of the many versions we’ve all come to love. this started as a single smut scene and grew feelings and a bit of plot from there. this was definitely a labour of love so i hope you all enjoy it!

“We’re done. Us. All of it. You’re free to leave.”

The modulated voice of the Red Hood startles you. It’s nearly six in the morning, and you’ve been up since three when Jason didn’t return from patrol like he promised. He’s still in his Hood gear, hasn’t bothered to take off the helmet or even the boots crusted in who knows what. The leather jacket has taken a beating, and in the dim light of your apartment living room it glistens damply like he was caught in the earlier rain. He won’t even look in your direction, hands fisted at his sides, the darkened leather of his gloves taut across his knuckles. Jason didn’t come home like he promised and now he can’t even bear to look at you as he tears your heart in two. It’s understandable then, that when your voice returns to you and you can breathe around the lump in your throat, that your voice shatters the silence.

“Look at me. Look. At. Me.”

Only the way that his body locks up, somehow tenser than before, deflates you. A whole night’s worry and frustration drained away.

“Jay? Please take off the helmet and look at me.”

His black curls are matted to his forehead with sweat. His one white streak is dark with it,. Somewhere along the way he must have ditched the domino mask, because the sight of his bare face twists something tight in your chest. His beautiful eyes are red rimmed, tear tracks still staining his cheeks. His lips look bitten raw. He looks at you the way a dying man looks at salvation. Realization dawns slowly for you.

“You didn’t get caught in the rain, did you?”

A sharp nod, jaw clenching, but he doesn’t look away. Now you’ve noticed, you can’t stop. There’s a faint blood spray on the front of the helmet, barely visible from where Jason’s placed it on the counter. The leather jacket is soaked through with blood, darker splotches on his tac pants from where it’s followed gravity. The grime on his boots now looks rusty, though that might just be your imagination. Jason’s come home hours late covered in blood and is telling you to leave. This time, your voice is startlingly gentle.

“Jay we talked about this. You promised no life altering conversations when you’re covered in blood, remember?”

At the time, had been a joke. A promise made after a close call, when Jason was still loopy from sedation and painkillers and insisting he was going to duel Doc Leslie for your honour. Finally lucid, he had sheepishly promised no more dramatic ultimatums when he's covered in blood.

“But you need to—“

“No. You promised. What’s going to happen is you’re going to leave all your gear at the front door and we’ll deal with it tomorrow. You’re going to tell me if you’re injured and let me fix you up if you are. Then you’re going to shower. Then, and only then are we going to have this discussion.”

“I don’t—”

“Please.”

He caves at the way your whole body sags under the weight of one word. Carefully toes off his boots and socks, peels the stiff tac pants off, and lays his top and jacket on top of the whole pile. Reveals a smattering of bruises down his arms and along his rib cage. To get to the ensuite he has to walk past you and through your shared bedroom. The heat of him passing by has you turning after him, a star caught in his orbit, words curling to ash on your tongue. It’s only when he’s firmly out of sight that you allow yourself to collapse into the couch. Head lolling back, gaze fixed on the ceiling. Blankly you watch the headlights of passing cars loom and fade across the ceiling.

You do your best not to cry but wet trails burn down your face. You dash them away, but it does nothing to make you feel better. You don’t know if you’ll survive the coming conversation, a litany of “he doesn’t love me anymore, or at least not enough to keep me” is running through your head. Something is wrong, you think. Usually after a rough night, Jason can’t get enough of you. He comes home to your shared apartment and holds you, needs to feel the touch of your skin and the heat of your breath to truly know you’re alive. He's never the most talkative on the worst nights, but he always reaches out. Mumbles into your throat just to hear your replies, get you to distract him with chatter about your own day. He’ll act like he’s touch starved, press his split knuckles to the back of your hand, pull you into him until his nose is buried in the crook of your neck, pet and touch whatever bare skin is in reach. You're used to shaking off the vestiges of sleep to Jason between your thighs, fingers and tongue skillfully opening you up before he slides his cock inside, splitting you open just to feel you tighten around him. Tonight he hasn’t even reached out to hold your hand.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Jason stands in the doorway to your shared bedroom. Wet from his shower, the streetlight filtering through the curtains illuminating the water still beading on his skin. The bruises look less stark now. You look at him and feel love. You look at him and see the man you gave the most vulnerable parts of yourself to, ready to hand them back to you on a platter. Rolling your head to look at him properly, you notice he hasn't bothered to dress, wrapped in a towel like he couldn't wait to put off this conversation a moment longer. Your eyes meet, and it snaps whatever trance he's in. He shuffles over to you, eyes asking for permission to join you on the couch. The couch dips under his weight, and you turn on your side to face him, legs curling up to your chest.

"I'm glad you're home."

You reach out to brush his face, aching to remind yourself that's he's real but he shies back from the motion, denies you both the comfort of contact.

"Don’t. I'm not— I'm not good for you. We can't— I'm not gonna do this to you anymore."

"Do what to me Jason?" you ask, genuinely puzzled "Be us? I chose this, I chose you, and I have kept on choosing you from the beginning. I don't understand." By the end, you're truly pleading, begging with your voice and eyes and body for him to explain this to you. To explain why he's trying to make this choice for you.

"Bein' with me puts you in danger," he says slowly, carefully. "You think you know what you've signed up for but you don't. Not really. I painted a target on your back and now the worst of Gotham are gonna come sniffin’ at your door. You're never gonna be safe with me and I don't want to be the reason why you're hurt. You deserve better than me and a life of looking over your shoulder. I can't give you that, I'll never be able to give you that."

And oh, that hurts. The way he says it, dripping with self-loathing and certainty, cracks your heart open. It speaks of long held fears and convictions that he will never be good enough, that he is too broken and too dangerous to be loved.

"Did something happen tonight?" you ask, searching for a reason, anything, that would have brought old wounds to light.

"What?" Tension laces his body tight. There's a wild look in his eyes, shifting closer to green than blue.

"Jay, you made all of those risks clear to me before we were even real friends. So, what happened tonight to make you so sure that you'll be the death of me?"

Something about the way you state the question so matter of factly unsettles him enough to reply. "Heard some chatter down at docks about Black Mask setting up a new warehouse. Tonight was just supposed to be easy. Just about fuckin' with him, get B and Wing time to gather evidence on his new operation. He was waiting for us, probably set the whole thing up as a trap. Did a whole melodramatic monologue too 'bout how if we were gonna threaten his operation — the only thing that means anything to him — then turnabout’s fair play."

He's paused in his remembered anger, hands flexing against the couch cushions. You nod, trying to encourage him, not wanting to break the spell that got him talking in the first place. But you really don't like where this was headed. When he speaks again, its in a whisper.

"He knew your name. He knew who you are to me and he knew your fucking name."

The fear that jolts through you at that statement is matched by the intensity in his eyes. Distractedly you notice that you can’t feel your fingers. Heart racing, the only thing grounding you is the weave of the cushion under your cheek.

"Okay, we can— we can handle this. It'll be difficult but I can—"

"He's dead," Jason interrupts.

"He's what." All trains of thought come to a crashing stop.

"I killed him."

Its a confession and a plea for forgiveness wrapped in one. He can't quite look you in the eyes anymore, his whole demeanor screaming shame. Stunned and wide-eyed all you can do is drink him in, this incredible, ridiculous man. Car headlights cut through the shadows, lighting up the planes of his face and catching on the still too-green of his eyes. Somewhere along the way you've moved closer. His face is only a breath away and in the silence it feels unbearably intimate.

You can't help blurting out, "Can I kiss you?" The thought of being unable to touch him any longer is utterly unthinkable. Not when he's right in front of you, lips parted and waiting for you to pronounce judgement over him. He nods, shyly, and then you're in his lap. His face is cradled in your hands, eyes wide as he looks up at you. His lips are warm when you finally give in to the urge to taste him. They're rough from where he's bitten them but they're pliant against yours. Drawing back, you rest your forehead on his, unwilling to be any further apart.

"He had your name in his fuckin' mouth and I couldn't let him live for that. So yeah, I killed him. Him and every one a his lieutenants in the room that heard." Jason pauses, tries to gauge your reaction, continues on more self-consciously. "B and Wing couldn’t stop me and I didn’t want them to. He was a threat to you and I didn't know. You could have died and I wouldn't even've known what to protect you from." He tries to pull back from you, but you don't let him. Lets his motion pull you along with him, hands still cradling his face.

"Is that where all the blood is from? You're not hiding any injuries besides the bruises from me?" you ask worriedly. He's done it before, but you'd hoped he'd learned to trust you better. Jason goes to remove your hands from his face and you don't resist. He presses soft kisses to each of your palms before folding them to his bare chest right over his heart.

"Fuck sweetheart, I tell you that I've just killed a roomful of men and you want to know if I'm okay? You're not angry that I killed, again?" And oh he looks so ready for you to reject him. Waiting for you to turn away, to call him a monster, for your love to turn to horror.

When you speak, the words come out slowly, each syllable weighed out with care. "Am I bad person if I say that I'm grateful?" You can feel his heartbeat speeding up under your hands as you speak. "Because I am Jay, I'm so, so grateful. I'm grateful that I'll never have to worry about a bullet in the dark or getting taken off the street. Mostly I'm grateful that I won't be used to hurt you. But I'm also so very sorry Jay that you had to kill again." He shudders at that, closes his eyes and squeezes your hands tight tight tight. "I know that you were trying so, so hard not to kill, to live by your family's rules and I'm so sorry that you had to break that promise to yourself. Can you forgive me for putting you in that impossible position?"

"I— I don't need your forgiveness, not for this. But don't you see? I'm the reason you were danger. If I hadn't a been quick enough, if there's ever a day when I'm not fast enough, then you'd've died." At that he stops, swallows thickly, like he's considering a world where he doesn't save you. "This doesn’t end just ‘cause Black Mask’s dead. It’s every enemy the Hood has ever made knowing that my heart’s walking around outside my body.” And that, that makes your breath catch in your throat. Stuns you enough that you’re not fully prepared for what he says next. “So this, you and me, it's gotta be done. I'll move out tomorrow, pack things up later. I won't leave you unprotected, I'll— I'll still patrol but you won't have to see me again. You can have a clean start."

Now, now you are angry. Pushing off his chest you lever yourself upright, forcing him to look up at you. Straddled across his lap your balance is precarious at best but you need him to see you, to realize that what you say next is what you mean with every wretched part of you.

"No."

"No?" He's looking up at you, glazed eyes and mouth open wide with shock.

"No. Jason Peter Todd you do not get to make this decision for me." With every word you push your finger into his chest for emphasis, your whole body shaking with the force you're putting behind your words. "I knew the risks because you told me about them. I decided that I could live with them if it meant having you. I told you always and forever. I meant it then and I mean it now. So this, you and me, it’s over when I agree it is. I gave you my fucking heart and this is me not accepting it back. You tell me I’m free to leave anytime, well I’m not.” His hands have fallen to your hips where they clench and unclench. “You haven’t been able to keep me out of your sight lines for more than three minutes tonight. You can’t go a day without touching me, feeling me up and getting your cock wet. I know you don’t sleep half so well if I’m not in your bed and neither can I. I know the way you look when you think nothing you’ve done has ever been good enough and the face you make when you feel like a hero. I know you to your bones and you know me. You want me to live a life that you’re not a part of, well I won’t." Suddenly fed up with the chafing of the towel on your poor inner thighs you try to shift, when you feel him hard under the thin layer of the bath towel. You feel Jason freeze up, time crystallizing around you before speeding back up like a poorly wound tape.

“Off. Off now” You start pawing at the blasted towel unsuccessfully, before giving up and going for your own sleep pants. You’re half way through wiggling them off before Jason’s brain catches up with you and then he’s scrabbling to tear the towel off and get you bare. You grab his hardening cock and guide it to the entrance of your cunt. You’re still not slick enough for this, didn’t spend ages getting opened up on fingers first, but you’re desperate enough to make it work. His hands around your thighs are like iron, clinging to you like a life preserver. You take it slow, letting gravity do the work of spearing you open on his cock, unable to take him to the hilt in one swift motion the way you ache to. Jason’s a big man, always towering over you in size, and his cock is perfectly large to match. Already the stretch is just the other side of painful, the thickness of him cleaving you in two. You gasp like you’ve been punched with every inch downwards. By the time your hips meet his pelvis his stomach muscles are clenched and twitching from the effort of not just fucking up into you and taking what he wants. His fingers are buried in the couch cushions. Deliriously you wonder if the cushions will still be intact by the end of this conversation.

"So tell me again," you pant, "tell me why you think you can just walk away from me and all the love we have like it's nothing." Jason groans at your words, buries his face in your throat, hips still twitching with aborted thrusts.

"Please, please baby. Let me move— shit, let me make you feel good. God, sweetheart you're so fucking tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me." The growing roll of his hips is distracting. He's so fucking thick, this position making him feel like he's somewhere in your stomach, every flex of his muscles bullies him deeper, threatens to shake all the thoughts out of your head. That just won’t do. You take back control with a soft hand on his chest pushing him back until he's leaned right back against the couch cushions.

"You started this conversation Jay. It’s not done until you finish it. Besides, you’re the one that wants to put a stop to all this." You punctuate your words with a single calculated grind of your hips, make him claw at your hips with abandon. Revel at the weight of him inside of you. Trail your hand up his chest so you can thread your fingers into his damp curls. "Why should I let you move, hmm? Give me that list of reasons, and maybe I'll let you fuck me when we're done talking." His pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the colour of his eyes anymore.

It takes a few false starts before he can put a coherent thought together. "Being— being with me makes, oh god, makes you a target. People'll go through you, tryna hurt me. You're gonna get hurt cus'a me, could die fr'me." He's trembling all over now, words slurring together and gasping for air. He settles a little when you run your other hand down his chest to trace his y-shaped scar, lean in and kiss him slow and sweet. Nip and tease at his already abused bottom lip.

"Love that ship went and sailed the first time you talked to me," you say. "There's no putting that back in the box and hoping everyone will forget that we were us." Taking your time, you mouth along his jawline, feel his hand slide under your shirt to come settle on the small of your back. "Say we split up, what then? Doesn't matter how often you swing by, someone'll always try and find a way. Tonight was just a reminder. How does breaking both of our hearts make that go away?" Nuzzling into that sweet space below his jaw, you can feel the way his pulse races and cock twitches in you. All the while you keep your hips tortuously still, warming his cock with your cunt, enjoying the stretch of him. A tug of his hair gets him talking again.

"I'm not a— not a good man. I've killed a lot a people, don't even regret most a'em." He can't look at you as he says it, eyes fixed on a spot over your shoulder. His hand on your back flexes, fingers tightening around your hip bone.

"Didn't we just go over this? Jay I'm glad you killed those men, and if that makes you a bad person so am I." This time its him that goes in for a kiss, latches on to the plush of your lips, licks his way inside. Cradles your skull and pulls you closer, has to stop kissing you to gasp when that shifts his cock inside of you.

"Sweetheart, you're the best person damn person I know," he breathes into your mouth. Traces over your cheekbone with the tip of his nose. "You're the best fuckin' thing to happen to me. But you shouldn't hafta decide if you're okay with me killing people. Shouldn't be something you gotta think about at all." There it is again, that tinge of self-loathing. And that's what it’s really all about isn't it?

"You're not making me do anything. You think I didn't know who I was saying yes to when you asked me out to dinner? That I was unaware of Hood's brand of justice? That unlike your family, I didn’t already approve of your methods? Love, I was grateful for you before you'd even walked into my life." Its a confession you hadn't said out loud before, but maybe you should've. Something about your faith in him has Jason whining at the back of his throat like a wounded animal. He tries to buck his hips but freezes when the hand in his hair forcefully tugs his head back, exposes the vulnerable line of his throat.

"Can't just say that sweetheart. Can't just say that and not let me fuck you full." Another tug at his hair has him moaning, the cords of his throat standing out. "C'mon, c'mon. You're so wet and so warm for me. I'll make you feel— feel so good." On the last word he tries to thrust up but you were expecting this, dig your knees into the couch to leverage up off of him at the same time he moves forward. You bite down on the soft skin of his throat before pressing a kiss to the forming bruise. Let go of his hair to clasp the side of his neck, rub your thumb over the hinge of his jaw. Let his head fall forward to your chest, resting his brow on your collarbone.

"I said after our conversation, didn't I? And those aren't your only reasons, are they?" you tease. "You can fuck me whenever you want Jay, you just have to be honest first."

He’s torn, you can tell. Caught between chasing his pleasure at the steep price of his darkest fears, but also wanting to do right by you, as misguided as this attempt is. But he’s been so truthful so far, deserves a reward for how good he’s been. So you clamp down, hard, feel his cock brush against that soft part of your gut that makes you shiver with pleasure. Enjoy the punched out sound that wrings from him. Grind your hips down in a filthy circle, once, twice. Then just as suddenly stop. Let him pant and shake, breath warm in the contours of your throat.

When he finally speaks, his voice is so small you can barely hear him. "M'scared." He shudders as he says it. Something in the curve of his spine screams vulnerable, sparks an itch in your fingers to touch and so you do.

"Think 'm too broken for you to love. Think 'm too broken to love you right. Scared one day that the pit's gonna burn too bright and I'll hurt you." Like a broken dam, the words come tumbling out so quickly now. All you can do is keep stroking his back, this giant of a man rendered so small in your arms. "That I'll wake up one day and it'll be my hands covered in your blood." The hate and self-loathing is almost palpable, an oil slick shadow creeping along the floorboards. You could cry from the way his voice shakes and cracks.

“Oh, love.” And this time it’s your voice cracking. “I’ve never thought of you as broken. There’s never going to be a day where I think you’re too broken for me to love. If the day ever comes that you do break, I’ll pick up all the shiny pieces with my bare hands if I have to. I’ll put you back together again even if it cuts me open because that’s what we do Jason. You don’t think there aren’t parts of me I’d rather smooth out too? You don’t have to love me perfectly to love me right.” He’s straightening up now, trying to get a better view of your face, needs to see the truth of your words. His arms have moved around you like a vice, holding on as if you’ll disappear if he lets go. “You’ve never hurt me Jason. Scratch that, you’ve never hurt me before tonight and your stupid, noble attempt to break up with me. But not once have you laid your hands on me and not once have I been afraid of you.” He tries to interrupt, opens his mouth to speak but you’re not finished. You lay finger over his lips, force him to let you say your piece. “But I know that the problem isn’t my trust in you, it’s yours. Besides Black Mask and his thugs, did you hurt anyone else tonight?” At the shake of his head you continue. “There you have it. Even tonight, when you had every reason to spin out of control you didn’t hurt anyone you didn’t mean to. So talk to me. We’ll figure this out. Hell, we’ll find you a therapist if that’s what you want. So trust me, at least, even if you can’t trust yourself.”

You’d swear there were tears in his eyes if you didn’t already know never to trust the early morning light. It’s past dawn now and in the silence Jason looks like something out of a fairytale. The weak golden light makes him look so alive, so vibrant. He sits there still as stone, holding you tight in his lap, dumb with the weight of your love and acceptance. His grin, when it breaks over his face, is a little watery but possibly the most precious thing you’ve ever seen.

“There’s really no scaring you off, is there?” It’s a weak joke, but he’s trying.

“No. There isn’t.” If your words don’t convince him then the tone of satisfaction ringing through them would. Pushing at his shoulders you maneuver him as close to lying down as you can manage on your old couch. Tearing off your oversized sleep shirt (stolen from Jason of course), you’re finally as bare as he is. Perched over him, you enjoy the view of him splayed out like an offering. Reaching for his arm, you find his hand, place it on the curve below your belly and lace your fingers over the back of it. You push his palm down into you to feel the hard swell of where his cock is curving you out, carving out a place in your guts and moulding your cunt to the shape of his cock. You can see the exact moment his restraint snaps when he realizes he’s feeling himself through you. Let him jack knife up into you, feel the way his hardness moves under his palm. Enjoy the way it feels to finally have him drag his cock through you. But he’s trying to be respectful and you haven’t given him the go ahead yet. He restrains himself to shallow rocking motions, unable to stop himself completely, but the effort this is costing him is clear by his straining muscles and wide eyes.

“You paying attention Jay? This—” and this time you clench down on his cock as you press his hand to the shape of your womb just to hear him choke, “is yours. And you left it aching and empty for hours. You made such pretty promises earlier.” For this last part you lean down real close, brace yourself with an arm over his shoulder, wanting to make sure he doesn’t miss a thing. “And our conversation just ended.” He takes it as the permission it is and slams into you, deeper than before like you can feel him in you throat. Hands an iron grip around your waist, pulling you down to meet each sharp rolling thrust. Bullies his cock into you until he finds the angle that has sparks running under your skin, keeps hitting that angle with all the precision and aim of a sniper with his marksmanship. At this angle, his head’s at the perfect height to mouth at your breasts. You can feel him smiling around a nipple as he listens to you moan, only detaching to give the other breast the same kind of enthusiastic attention. Your arm finally gives out, falling down onto his bare chest. Limp, you let him manoeuvre him how he wants you, a rag-doll for your mutual pleasure. All the while he doesn’t stop fucking into you, any semblance of earlier control gone.

“Fuck, sweetheart you don’t know— don’t know what you do to me.” He’s gasping between each word, but the meaning of them still makes their way to your blissed out brain. The slick drag of his cock head along your clenching insides making everything else fade away. You can feel your orgasm building, heat pooling and growing with every thrust. Jason can feel you tightening up around him, knows the signs of your body so well. He starts circling your clit with his fingers, alternating pressure with his thrusts. The long drag and stretch of his cock, almost too much for you to take, never falters. It bumps up against your cervix, fills you up so completely that there’s room for nothing else but it and the pleasure it rips from you. Your release tears through you like wildfire, and for a moment dark spots cloud your vision. You know that you’ve clamped down, tight and hot and slick by the punched out groan from Jason, the way his head falls back onto the couch. But through it all he still keeps pumping into you.

He bites and sucks at your throat, a distraction from your over sensitivity. He leaves your clit alone, stops assaulting all your senses so viciously. Listens to you mewl from how sore and sensitive you are from having taken his cock nearly dry, having held it in you for so long before getting your cunt battered by it. “M so sorry sweetheart. Didn’t wanna hurt you. Gonna— gonna make it up to you. For the rest a m’life.” Now he’s rutting into you, all rhythm and finesse gone in pursuit of his own pleasure. Fire is running through your veins, gathering in your cunt and burning you whole. Your legs are weak and trembling where Jason’s placed them, hands trailing down your thighs to hook under your knees and pull your legs wider. Like this you’re trapped, pinned against him by the spread of your cunt, clit wet and grinding against his pubic bone every time he fucks back into you. You’re so close to another orgasm, quicker than you’ve ever been before.

“Please— Jay please, don’t— don’t stop. Need you. Need you har— harder. Jay. Jay” Jason being Jason, obliges. Your whole body jolts from the force of him inside you. You’re so frustratingly close, dancing on the knife’s edge of oblivion. Jay’s close too. You can tell by the way his breathing speeds up, the way he wraps one arm over your shoulder to keep you in place as he fucks your cunt raw. What sends you both over the edge is Jason taking his other hand and pushing down hard on the swell of your abdomen, the both of you feeling his cock kick and spurt inside of you. Heat paints your walls, and it’s that combined with all consuming pressure of his cock remaking you in his image that has you crying out your orgasm. Jason doesn’t pull out right away. Stays inside you and lets himself grow soft. Kisses featherlight over your face and eyelids. Strokes your flanks and combs his fingers through your hair. Soothes you into a light sleep.

When you wake up, it’s to full sunlight streaming into your bedroom. Turning your head, Jason meets your gaze, propped up on an elbow to watch over you. The both of you are still naked under the blankets but he must have cleaned up the mess between your legs. He pressed a kiss between your eyes before you can get too swept up by your thoughts.

“Hiya sweetheart.” The corners of his eyes crinkle up when he smiles like this. You think they’d make him look kind when he’s older. “I’m not going anywhere now, I promise.”

“Always?”

“Forever.”

#dividers by cafekitsune and saradika #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #fem reader #angst with a happy ending #jason todd smut #jason todd imagine #jason todd my beloved #sunnie writes 🌻#jason todd #smut #mdni

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xcherryerim · 19 days

Text

Si tú me quisieras

(If you loved me)

Mike schmidt x Gn!reader | wc: 2.2k

“Si tú me quisieras, el amor que quisieras lo tendrías conmigo. No soy cursilera, pero si me quisieras, sería todo distinto” — Si tú me quisieras by Nia Vanie & Adrian Bello

notes: it seems like I love writing sappy stuff for Mike at 1-4 am. I didn’t really revise this so sorry if there is many mistakes or repeated words ✨ Also the lyrics in this story is the same as the one from the intro (and yes. Mike knows spanish here)

Summary: As time goes by, it becomes increasingly difficult for Mike not to hide the secrets that are troubling him. He has had enough and decides to reveal his feelings to you, his best friend.

You caught sight of Mike wearing the same shade of sage green shirt you were wearing. With a deep breath, you called out to him, "No, no! Change, please. That's too much of a coincidence!”

Mike sighed heavily, slamming the car door shut behind him. His eyes narrowed, frustration etched onto his face. "Can you give me a break? This is the only clean shirt I have left!"

Reluctantly, you let out a frustrated groan. It wasn't about the shirt or the coincidences; it was about how deeply it affected you every time he wore that particular color. But you knew pushing him further wouldn't solve anything. So instead, you relented, "Fine, fine."

Why does it matter anyway?" he asked, increasing the volume of the radio in an attempt to cover up his unease.

Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel as you tried to explain your concern. "Because people are going to think we're a couple,"

Mike couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He had been hoping that today would be the day when you finally noticed him in the way he wanted you to. But here he was.

“But like, we aren’t so it doesn't matter, does it?”

“I guess.” You shrugged.

You started to suggest what movie to watch at the end of the day. A little tradition you guys did after running errands together, but Mike was staring at the street, drowning in his thoughts. Did you hate the idea of dating him that much?

“No hay nada que pueda hacer que me veas, y eso me duele tanto. Y aunque tú no me quieras como yo te quiero yo te seguiré amando.” / “There's nothing I can do to make you look at me, and that breaks me. Even if you don’t love me like I love you, I'll still adore you.”

"Isn't this the song that you like, Mike?" you asked, a small smile forming on your lips.

Mike's response was quiet and subdued. "Uh, yeah."

He didn't like the song, not really. He related to it, to every verse, word, and beat. It was a reflection of his feelings, a mirror to his unspoken thoughts and emotions. The lyrics echoed through the car, resonating with both of you in different ways.

“Dicen que de amor nadie se muere, pero si este dolor es la alternativa, prefiero la muerte” / “They say no one dies out of love, but if this pain is the alternative, I rather die.”

Mike sat silently next to you, the strum of guitar strings and the singer's melodic voice echoing throughout the car. A wave of disappointment washed over him, making the atmosphere in the vehicle almost suffocating. You could sense his discomfort, but you pressed on, trying to stay focused on the road ahead.

“Te estoy amando aunque no te diga nada. Estoy guardando este secreto para mí en el fondo de mi alma. Si tú me quisieras, no perdería ni un minuto más. Me entregaría con sinceridad, si te quedas conmigo.” / “I'm loving you even if I keep quiet. I’m keeping this secret in the depths of my soul. If you loved me, I wouldn't lose another minute more. I’ll sincerely give myself to you, if you stay with me.”

…

Feeling the need to intervene, Mike quickly stepped in to assist an elderly woman who was struggling to reach for a specific medicine. "Oh, let me help with that," he said, his voice filled with genuine kindness. As he handed her the item she needed, a warm smile spread across his lips, and you couldn't help but feel proud of his compassionate nature.

The woman thanked him graciously, her eyes twinkling with gratitude. "Thank you, sweetheart," she said, her gaze shifting between you both. "You two look like a nice couple. It reminds me of when my late husband and I used to go shopping together."

A sudden flush crept up your cheeks as the weight of her words settled upon the both of you. You knew it wasn't intentional, but the implication made your heart race faster than it should. Swallowing hard, you felt the need to clarify things.

"We're not a couple," you quickly replied, your voice tinged with slight awkwardness. The heat from your blush radiated outward, an audible confession of your true feelings.

Mike smiled gently at you, his eyes dancing with a mix of mirth and sadness. "Definitely not a couple," he affirmed, a hint of longing lurking beneath the surface.

As he turned to face you, he couldn't help but notice the defensive posture you took, your arms firmly crossed over your chest. Was there pain in your eyes? No, it couldn't be. He pushed the thought aside, choosing to focus on the present moment.

"Well, you seem pretty insulted by that," he remarked casually, attempting to shift the topic away from the elephant in the room.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “What? I’m not good enough for you?” Your words were laced with humor, but the underlying emotion was undeniable. There was a yearning, a desire for something more.

Mike sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he shook his head. "We are not having this conversation again," he stated firmly. Today, he simply couldn't muster the energy for the friendly flirtation that had become a routine between the two of you.

The innocent, fun activity of grocery shopping quickly transformed into something far more uncomfortable between the two of you. The mood had shifted dramatically, leaving behind a heavy silence that seemed to grow more oppressive with every passing second.

Mike could no longer mask his emotions – his face bore the unmistakable signs of anger, complete with furrowed eyebrows and heavy breathing. His movements became more forceful as he tossed items into the cart, each action an expression of the tumultuous emotions churning within him.

Unable to bear the tension any longer, you hesitantly asked, "Are you alright?" The question hung in the air, seemingly adding fuel to the fire. The guilt you felt for asking it gnawed at your insides, knowing that you might have only exacerbated the situation.

Mike glared at you, his dark eyes flashing with hurt and resentment. At that moment, he couldn't bring himself to answer your question.

As you tried to find a way to bridge the gap, you couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the last straw in maintaining the delicate balance of your friendship. For years, the two of you had shared laughter, tears, and dreams, but now you stood on the precipice of something unfamiliar and uncertain.

…

To lighten the mood, you attempted a weak joke, "Where else, boss?" but it fell flat in the wake of the tension between the two of you.

Mike provided a terse response, focusing on giving directions to Walmart without acknowledging your attempt at humor. "I need to get a few things for Abby, she's doing a project for school," he said, buckling his seatbelt.

Attempting to ignore the growing discord, you asked, "Oh, are there any close by?" and started the car, navigating the streets according to the directions Mike had given you. However, your nerves got the better of you, and you found yourself missing turns and getting lost.

Each error only served to fuel the fire. Mike's frustration grew with every misstep, a slow burn that threatened to consume the both of you. And then, finally, it boiled over. "Left, I said fucking left!" he shouted, his voice cracking with the strain of holding back his emotions.

"My fucking god. Can you drive?"

Stung by his harsh words, you couldn't help but retaliate. "What the hell is your problem? Why are you suddenly acting like a bitch?" Angry tears pricked at your eyes, the frustration of the day taking its toll on your composure.

His eyes locked onto yours, the transit stretching on as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he snapped, "Because you're terrible at driving!" It was a feeble excuse, an attempt to deflect from the real issue that loomed between you.

Your heart sank as you demanded answers, pleading with him to reveal the truth. "I'm not stupid, Mike. Tell me what is it!"

Mike's jaw clenched tightly, his mind racing as he tried to find the words to articulate his thoughts. But the harder he tried, the more elusive the truth seemed to become. The weight of the question pressed down upon him, threatening to crush the fragile foundation of their friendship.

Finally, he posed the question that hung between him like a cloud. "Do you hate the idea of being with me?" His heart pounded in your chest, waiting for your response, fear and hope to battle within him.

"What? Am I disgusting to you? Is it because I don't have a set job? Why?"

The weight of those words hung heavily between you, the car falling silent except for the hum of the engine. In that moment, everything felt on the line – your friendship, your future, and the truth that had been bubbling under the surface for so long.

"I never said that," you responded, your voice shaking with hurt and confusion. You grasped for some semblance of control amidst the chaos of your emotions.

"Well, you don't have to!" Mike declared, his voice wavering. Years of unspoken feelings finally burst forth, spilling out in a torrent of raw honesty. "We've avoided this for years. We're not friends!" The accusation hung in the air.

Mike recounted memories that flooded your minds, moments shared between the two of you that transcended the boundaries of friendship. "Holding hands at IKEA? Almost kissing? Showering together and almost having shower sex?"

With a bitter laugh, Mike snarled, "Friends, my balls. We're more than that, and we've been avoiding the truth for too long. It's time to face it."

"I just didn't know you liked me..." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the truth bore down on you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief mixed with the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you.

Mike's eyes softened, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to dissipate. "I've liked you for a long time," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I was scared to say anything, scared of losing you as a friend."

The car fell silent once more, the hum of the engine the only sound that broke the heavy silence. At that moment, the two of you sat there, grappling with the new reality that had been laid bare between you. The path forward was uncertain, but one thing was clear – the friendship you had cherished for so long has now changed.

Mike sighed deeply, attempting to gather his thoughts and steady his escalating emotions. "I understand if you don't want to ever see me again," he murmured, his tone filled with a combination of regret and resignation. Despite the turmoil, he reached out and gripped your hand tightly, a silent plea for understanding.

"But, if that is the case," he continued, his voice catching in his throat, "at least let me kiss you... for the first and last time." The request hung in the air, heavy with the implication of finality.

You felt your body tremble at his words, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through you. The prospect of sharing this intimate moment with Mike, the one person you'd always cared for, both thrilled and terrified you.

"I don't want to die without knowing what it feels like to kiss you," he said, his voice filled with a mix of longing and desperation. The weight of the moment bore down on both of you, the unspoken emotions finally giving voice.

"And you won't have to," you whispered, desperation mingling with determination in your voice. Without another word, you leaned in, closing the distance between you until your lips met his in a searing kiss that echoed the years of longing that had built up between you.

Mike hesitated for only a moment before responding, his arms wrapping around you as the passion of the moment took hold. The weight of the past years melted away, replaced by the intensity of the present. For once, the uncertainty that had plagued your friendship was gone, replaced instead by the electric connection that had always been there, hiding just beneath the surface.

As the kiss lingered, you began to realize that this was not the end, but the beginning of a new chapter for you both. The path forward may be fraught with uncertainty, but you were ready to face it together, finally embracing the love that had grown between you.

Fin, Hope you enjoyed! I just wanted to write more than smut 😪

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt headcanons #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt x reader #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt smut #mike schmidt smut #mike schimdt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x gn!reader #gender neutral reader

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lemon-boy-stan · 5 months

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May I request Childe, Kaeya, Diluc, and Thoma with a tsundere s/o who is trying to work up the courage to tell the guy that they love him for the first time?

Tsundere reader telling Genshin men "I love you" for the first time

Tsundere: Tsundere is a Japanese term for a character development process that depicts a character with an initially harsh personality who gradually reveals a warmer, friendlier side over time. The word is derived from the terms tsun tsun and dere dere.

Genre: fluff! Enemies to lovers. Warnings: none. A/N: anon asked for Thoma, but I haven't met him yet so I'll do my best!! Featuring: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Thoma. Also, apologies, I didn't realise these would end up being so long. Hope you like it anon!

DILUC

Honestly, you both hated each other. Diluc was not the kind of person who got close to people. He didn't look fondly upon rule-breakers either, and you just seemed to bring trouble with you everywhere. His fondness for you, however, grew over time, in battle, where you'd come running to him for help.

Of course, despite your snarky remarks to him, Diluc never minded saving your butt. "Master Diluc, always such a show-off," you'd tsk loudly, making him grin and roll his eyes. "Of course, I'm only a show-off for you, my dear." Diluc would attempt to kiss your hand. You'd grab his wrist, flinging to the ground.

It didn't help. Diluc was helplessly in love with you. And what Diluc wanted, Diluc got.

You'd been feeling differently towards the man, but you didn't know what it was. He made you laugh, more than you wanted to, he made you extremely shy, he made your cheeks all red. It was only in battle did you realise what you felt.

A surge of panic shot through you as Diluc fell to the ground, sword clattering. You let out an elemental burst, defeating the remaining enemies, running to his side, lifting him up. "Master Diluc, no! You can't die now. You can't. You can't die, I love you." Tears falling onto his face.

Diluc stirred, smiling up at you. "I'm sorry, my love, say that again?" Smirking, making your ears go red. "I will throw you off this cliff if you ever do that again!" You shrieked at him, pulling him close and hugging him. He laughed softly, "I highly doubt you'd ever be able to throw me."

KAEYA

The Cavalry Captain. He was the most annoying, insufferable person you'd ever met. And he seemed to THRIVE when annoying you. He knew you could probably beat him up if you tried hard enough, but that didn't stop him from challenging you to duels and fights (much to your despair, you always lost in sword-fighting).

You thought Kaeya was just naturally competitve. You thought your persistence in trying to do better than him, impress him, was just because of his personality, not because you liked him. Soon, your friendship, or rivalry, turned into a relationship.

Most of the time with your friends when you'd bicker, it was always the two of you joking around. But this time, the argument blew up Angel's Share. "For the love of..." Diluc rolled his eyes, "can one of you just tell me what's going on so you stop causing a scene?"

You puffed your cheeks, eyes watery. Kaeya rolled his eyes too, "she's overreacting, as usual. It's perfectly fine. She thinks something will happen to me, but it won't, I always end up lucky." You crossed your arms, making a loud, defiant noise.

"I don't want him to go!" You shrieked, glaring at Diluc, "it's too dangerous and he'll get himself killed and I -" Diluc cocked his head, amused. "Yes, Traveller?" You bit your lower lip, not daring to look Kaeya in the eye. "And I love him," you whispered. Diluc's eyes widened. There was a loud crash next to you and you jumped. Diluc grinned, covering his mouth to hide his laughter, "I think my brother loves you too."

Kaeya had fallen off the stool, and was lying on the ground.

CHILDE

There was just something about him that made him punchable. Maybe it was his daring personality, his lack of care, his flare for rule-breaking. Or it may just be his face. Anyhow, whenever the two of you were together and whenever he let out a "hey, girlie" from his mouth, you'd put him in a headlock or kick him in his crotch.

This apparently did not stop him from being helplessly in love with you. Often Tartaglia found himself reciting ways to ask you out in the mirror. And, when he enacted on them, often you'd punch him.

And although you would never admit it to yourself or anyone, you'd grown a strong fondness for the boy, a crush even, and you finally had the courage to ask him out.

Pretty soon, your relationship was in full swing.

Childe went out of his way to spoil you, bringing you the best foods, taking you to the most expensive places on dates. It was on one of these dates, where he truly shocked you, presenting you with a gift that was so beautiful you cried.

"Archons, Childe!" You gasped loudly, for once at a loss for words. Tartaglia bit his lip, "why? What's wrong? Do you not like it? I can return it..." But you shook your head, letting out a defiant noise, putting it on. "No! I love it so much. I love you so much, Ajax." And Childe almost fell of his seat as he stuttered out the words, "I love you, too."

THOMA

It was obvious. A little too obvious. Anyone and everyone knew, even you. Thoma was, undeniabally head over heels for you. And you? You despised him. He was just trying too hard!

He was always coming with you on commissions, following you around since the day you met so much that your friends had called him your shadow. It was only when he saved you in battle did you finally feel something for him.

"You're so rash," he murmured, placing bandages on your arm. You giggled softly, feeling a bit drowsy and silly from the medicine. "You're so cute, Thoma!" You giggled, booping his nose. He scrunched his face and you giggled again.

"I love your hair," you sighed dreamily, "mm, love when you look after me all the time. Love when you save me, love... love you... Love Thoma soo much!" You squeaked, slapping your hand over your mouth at the last part. Thoma froze, shell-shocked. You giggled again, pulling him close. "Oops! I um, I didn't mean to say that!" Pressing your lips against his.

He chuckled, "mm, and I'm sure you didn't mean to do that either, honey."

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

NAVIGATION

I'M SORRY THESE WERE SO BAD AND CRINGE 😭😭😭

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miyaur · 1 year

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𝄞 — capitano, tartaglia/childe (fem reader) — ❝ you're both ours, don't complain. ❞

summary: you were a rather cute secretary that was under capitano, a well known, and mighty harbinger. walking in on your boss and the 11th harbinger having a duel, deciding to have a change of plans the moment you walked in.

a/n: i've been trying to write this for so long but prince kaeya had to come first 😔😔.. ok but i'm so sorry posting some thing later than usual schedule, school finally started and not that proud of my exam scores, writing is fr my only escape <;/3

warnings: nsfw, threesome, dom!capitano, dom!tartaglia/childe, sub!reader, pussy eating,

being capitano's secretary, doing groceries, helping him out with paperwork, is the usual, but every year, there comes a time where capitano gets into the mood, and need to take it out on something, or someone, whether it'd be stress, or sexual frustration. and you.. ohh you.. you were really just the cutie he needed.

tartaglia, the youngest of harbingers. you've met him before, what a pretty man! he was very much somewhat carefree, constantly asking every good fighter he meets for a spar. he always asked your boss to duel a ton too! you understand why though, capitano is quite strong, and big~

although, you definitely didn't know how tartaglia had convinced capitano into sparring with him. maybe he felt bad? oh well. but it was just a normal day, finishing up a bit of paperwork for capitano, wanting to see if they both had finished.

"hi sir! are you.. finished?" peaking through the door of the room, watching them both covered in sweat, tired from fighting, clothing almost torn off fully. getting flustered and apologizing till a huge hand grabs you by your waist

a husky voice whispers into your ears "stay. i believe i need help with a special something. actuslly me and my good friend, childe." pulling you back to the position him and tartaglia were in. "i- anything for you sir?" stammering over your words, yet confused, placing you on his lap, revealing what was under your skirt, nothing (lol), "dirty girl, wanting to be fucked so bad." he said taking off your shirt, chest being revealed, "oh, you must be so excited, already wet for us hm?" childe questions, slowly sinking his tongue into your pussy, licking your clit, as capitano's hands rub over your boobs. chulde lapping at your juices like it's his last meal, or beter yet his first meal in a long time, but it's true that he's never tasted something better than his cooking.

both of them pleasuring you, making you closer and closer to finishing, to reach your high. feeling a knot in your stomach, fonally breaking you cum all over childe's mouth, and he's glad to clean of your mess. "that feel good, cutie?" looking happier than ever, chukde wipes off any excess cum from his face, "i'm very sure my little secretary enjoyed it." capitano replied, he lifts you up so his cock can enter you, feeling his head, what if it.. it didn't fit? how is soemthing so big supossed to fit in your tight hole?

your ass is already so tired, and slowly you felt tartaglia put his cock in your mouth, making you slowly rock back and forth (indeed you are on all fours..), for hours on end. you fainted after they both finally released inside you, next thing you saw, you woke up in capitano's room, as he was reading something to you, "i'm sorry about last night.. we both brought you here, taetaglia would like to give you this." a little box of chocolates, jewelry, and a note that says "sorry for rearranging your insides, please accept this apology."

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skepwith · 2 years

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Parts of the Revenge

For Fic Writers and Fans of Our Flag Means Death

The historical Stede Bonnet’s Revenge was a sloop-of-war, one of the smaller types of men-of-war, or fighting ships. Unlike merchant ships, they carried multiple guns (i.e., cannons); merchant vessels were usually also armed, but not as heavily.

Basic Nautical Terms

fore: The front part of the ship.

aft: Towards the back.

bow: The frontmost part of the ship’s hull.

stern: The backmost part of the ship.

starboard: If you’re facing forward, this is the side of the ship on your right. If you’re facing aft, it will be on your left.

port: If you’re facing forward, the side on your left. If you’re facing aft, it’s on your right.

hull: The outer body of the ship. What you scrape barnacles off (assuming you’re not flirty enough to get out of the job).

Decks

The Revenge has four full decks. Plus there are several partial upper decks with weird names.

Main Deck

Also called the upper deck or upper gun deck. This is the deck where everything happens: flag-sewing, sleepovers, duels, fuckery, etc.

Forecastle (Fo’c’sle)

Pronounced, and sometimes spelled, fo’c’sle. The partial deck in the ship’s fore, from which Blackbeard swings off a rope to impress the crew. A few steps above the main deck.

Quarterdeck

You know the sweeping staircases Stede descends like he’s Ginger Rogers in an MGM musical? Those lead between the main deck and the quarterdeck. The quarterdeck was traditionally where the captain, and sometimes his officers, hung out and kept an eye on things; regular sailors weren’t allowed up there, except in the course of their duties. It’s also the location of the wheel, or helm, which steers the ship by turning its rudder.

Poop Deck

Named after the French word for stern; nothing to do with poop. Even higher than the quarterdeck, the poop deck is perched over the stern. Its height makes it a good place to make observations from. The handrail around the poop deck is called the taffrail.

Gun Deck

Also called the lower deck. This deck is under the main deck. You know how from the outside of the ship you can see cannons poking out from their little hidey-holes? Those are gun ports, and the guns (cannons) live along both sides of the gun deck. (The Revenge also has cannons on the main deck, which is why the main deck is sometimes called the upper gun deck.) In some ships, the crew would sleep on this deck, between the guns. In OFMD, this is the deck with the kitchen and the crew’s table, as well as the jam room and the rec room; you can see the gun ports in the hull.

Orlop

The deck under the gun deck. Where coils of rope and other equipment is stored. It’s below the ship’s waterline, so the stuff you store here has to be able to withstand some damp. Has a low ceiling. Historically, was often used as the ship’s surgery during battle. [ETA: Season 2 revealed that the Revenge has no orlop.]

Hold

The lowermost deck. Where supplies are stored and cargo, if there is any, is carried.

Masts

The masts are the big poles that hold up the sails. Different types of ships have different numbers of masts. The Revenge has three.

Foremast: Frontmost mast. Emerges through the fo’c’sle.

Mainmast: The one in the middle, coming through the main deck.

Mizzenmast, or mizzen: Aft mast. Comes through the quarterdeck.

There are about a million sails, each with its own name, and about a million ropes, ditto. I’m not covering any of that here, because life’s too short. Suffice it to say that the ropes, cables, and chains in general are called the rigging.

Other Parts of the Ship

Head

Generally speaking, the front of the ship. More specifically, the area in front of the fo’c’sle; also called the beakhead. Home of the figurehead (in this case a unicorn) and the bowsprit (the pole that sticks out in front of the ship). This is where Blackbeard throws Lucius overboard, which means Lucius has the whole length of the ship to be thrown a line by Fang and pulled back on board, which is totally what happened. The head is also where the crew’s toilet was located (head has since become synonymous with toilet.) The captain had his own toilet—sorry, en suite—in the stern, near his cabin.

Tops

Sometimes called fighting-tops. The little platforms about a third of the way up each mast. Ed and Stede pull their lighthouse trick in the top on the mainmast, i.e., the maintop. This is also where they bond over quality marmalade.

Capstan

The big cylinder that sits on the main deck. The crew turns this to move ropes and cables for heavy work, like weighing (raising) the anchor or hoisting a foresail. Its wooden bars are removable when not in use. Fun historical fact: sailors often sang sea shanties while turning the capstan, to keep them all in rhythm, and if one of the crew had a musical instrument, like a fiddle, pipe, or drum, he might play it while sitting on top of the capstan.

Great cabin

The biggest cabin on the ship, usually the captain’s quarters. Often had a row of windows facing aft and a library.

Everything I know about ships I learned from Patrick O’Brian and Wikipedia. If you see any errors, please let me know.

More Parts of the Revenge

#our flag means death #nautical terms #parts of a ship #ofmd meta #18th-century sailing #mapping the Revenge

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submissiveking99 · 12 days

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Prize Of Obelisk Blue

OPEN RP

0300 LP - 0299 - 0275 - 0241 - 0199 - 0111 - 0086 - 0001 - 0000 LP

Alexis grunted as she covered her face as the dust was kicked up. Smoke filled the air as the explosions went off. Hearing the counted beeping, ticking away, as her life points dropped lower. And lower. And lower. And finally, the loud siren that showed her life points had reached zero.

Alexis had been out past curfew, yet again. Trying to find more information about her brother's disappearance. Only to be caught in the woods. Caught by your muse.

She'd quickly made a deal. A simple but clear deal. A duel, and you'd let her go without telling anyone. If she won, no problems at all. If you won, she had to satisfy your muse all night. Either way, she wouldn't be discovered.

....

But, of course, we know how this situation has ended up.

Dropping to her knees, shame filled the blonde. But Alexis Rhodes was not one to back down from a deal. Alexis unbuckled her Obelisk Blue blazer revealing the tight black shirt she wore underneath. Her arms reached behind herself, cupping her head from behind, as she looked up at your muse.

At the victor

"Let's... Let's get this over with. You have me.. all night. Till you're satisfied." She growled in embarrassment, in shame.... And slight excitement

(have fun breaking her)

#read rules before interacting #rp post #open smut rp #open to all #smut rp #open rp #rp starter

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lovemyromance · 2 months

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Stop Kicking Elain out of the NC

She doesn't want to go. She doesn't want to leave her family. The cauldron turning her into high fae was unfortunate, but in typical Elain fashion (my favorite quality of hers) she made the best of a terrible situation and adapted to her new home, her new body, her new life. She has friends. She glows with health. She is mending the relationship with her sisters. The male she loves is there.

Why would she want to leave?

And if anyone brings up the fact that Cassian said she couldn't pull off a black dress - I swear to god I'll be convinced you've never read a book before. Cassian, the Miranda Priestley of Velaris, declaring Elain doesn't look good in black does not mean she is being rejected by the Night Court.

Do people not read? Did you not read how Nesta had to stand out to be Eris-bait, and if Elain, gorgeous, sweet, with beauty-that-could-bring-a-king-to-his-knees Elain was done up like the rest of them, the chances of Eris following after Nesta would have been slim? They had to make her look muted, to purposefully fade her into the background. That is ALL.

Now let's get into the even worse arguments for booting Elain out of the NC. Specifically,

She belongs in Spring (with Lucien)

She belongs in Day (with Lucien)

She belongs in Autumn (with Lucien)

Do you see what all those have in common (other than being surface level awful arguments)? They all center around Lucien. Who currently, Elain avoids like the plague. But I'm getting ahead of myself, lets go one by one, slow and steady:

Elain does NOT belong in spring

Why is this a thing, even? Because she likes flowers and Feyre said "oh elain would like it here?" That's it? Are we reducing people down to their hobbies now? Nesta likes books, should she also move to Day? Mor likes...wine I guess, should she move into a tavern? Amren likes puzzles, ship her to Dawn? Azriel likes Elain, let's put him in the Prison??

Or, oh wait, Tamlin should lose his court and Elain and Lucien will rule? How. Genuinely, how? Lucien is already an heir to Day Court & Autumn Court. How would the magic pick him of all people if Tamlin somehow dies/gives up his court? Wouldn't it pick someone...of Spring Court descent?

P.S Flowers also grow in the Night Court.

Make it make sense.

2. Elain does NOT belong in Day

First of all, right now, nobody knows about Lucien's parentage except for Feyre/Rhys and LoA (maybe). Helion doesn't know. Lucien himself does not know.

For Lucien to become high lord of Day, y'all realize Helion would have to die, right? Why would you ever kill off such an icon? And even if he just casually lives there while Helion still rules...a lot of things would have to happen for this to occur, like: Lucien's parentage is revealed, Helion accepts him as his heir, likely a blood duel between Beron/Helion over LoA, If Beron wins THEN Lucien becomes HL of Day, but if Helion wins then Eris becomes HL of Autumn...all of this would have to be covered in one book before they can even think about moving to Day and living happily ever after. You know, if Elain ever actually gives him the time of...day.

Don't even give me the "but Elain needs sunlight"!!

P.S. The NC also gets sunlight

Elain is not a plant. She does not undergo photosynthesis and need to go to the Day Court to physically be alive. Elain does not need light she IS the light. What's not clicking folks? Her name literally means LIGHT. Some variations say fawn/deer, but mainly she is light.

3. Elain does NOT belong in Autumn

This argument is more rare, but I don't understand it either. Why would she go live in Autumn as the reluctant mate to the 7th son of the awful Autumn HL? Autumn court cannot be this interesting to y'all, that you would be totally okay with not hearing from feyre/rhys/nesta/cassian/any of the IC, just to read a story about Elain avoiding Lucien in different climate/setting? Autumn exists in the NC too, you guys. She can ignore him when the leaves change color there, just as much.

And all of this, is only centered around Lucien. Because if you just asked this sweet flower child what she wanted, I can guarantee you, her answer would be to stay right where she is: home.

If she weren't mated to Lucien, would you still be sending her away to Spring/Day/Autumn?

This isn't even a ship thing at this point, like...Lucien doesn't currently have a home right now? Why are we tearing Elain away from her home to go live with a mate she does not want? If Elucien ever did get together, it would make so much more sense for Lucien to just move to the NC instead. Because Elain sure as hell is not going to live in her ex-fiance's manor, far away from her sisters, with a mate she didn't ask for and his rude bestie who literally made a r*pe joke about her (yeah, not understanding the Jurian & Lucien friendship here either).

Stop kicking my girlie out of the night court. She's staying where she belongs. If she leaves, it will be her choice. Not because her mate lives somewhere else. Not because she likes flowers. If she stays, it will be because that is her choice.

I thought it was obvious.

#elriel #pro elain #elain archeron #elain x azriel #acotar

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the-owl-tree · 2 months

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Fallen Stars - Act Two - The Fall

With your assistance, Princess has finally managed to convince Sandstorm to tell her what happened that night. Every story has its beginnings. Follow Sandstorm and Firestar from the past and see what transpired to drive them from their own home, and remember, you cannot change what must happen.

[Rough Overview + Archive!]

Quick summary of the intro for those who didn't follow the blog: This arc opened up with Sandstorm! She'd be our eyes in the Clan, revealing that ThunderClan was still recovering from the loss of Bluestar. Important to note, she'd reveal that Firestar was not eating or sleeping enough.

look at that gorgeous old ass rushed art

This arc was meant to introduce the voting system, a way for people to interact with the characters and guide them. However, I wanted to make it clear that while you could influence them. The first vote was going to be a quick way to show this, with people being allowed to vote on whether or not Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw could be allowed to come to the gathering.

Quick reveal here: This was a vote where I knew the outcome and was absolutely going to use it to my advantage lol a majority of people (obviously) voted yes. However, to demonstrate that votes weren't complete control over characters, the outcome was going to be that only Tawnypaw was allowed to go, as Bramblepaw had to go and ask Firestar permission.

Bramblepaw is then sent to wake up Firestar, the POV then switches to Firestar who is in the midst of a nightmare. This would be where the story would sow the seeds of one of the bigger conflicts of the story. Bluestar would deliver a word of warning here:

Firestar wakes up at Bramblepaw's call. Once he's a little more alert, the two talk and Bramblepaw asks to go to the Gathering. Firestar says no and Bramblepaw protests that Tawnypaw is allowed to go, something which Firestar doesn't like.

He finds Sandstorm and the two argue about it, with Sandstorm standing her ground and Firestar unhappily standing down. This was going to be a way that I was going to set up Firestar's struggle with conflating control and leadership, and learning to balance it both out.

The rest was going to be a Thunderclan intro montage where the reader got to see how everyone was doing. Nothing too different from canon quite yet, everyone's grieving but also expecting trouble from ShadowClan. Firestar visits Cinderpelt, who would reveal she's having strange dreams. This would fuel Firestar's struggle with paranoia and the trauma from the attack, it's building and festering.

The cats that would come to the gathering were obviously Firestar, Whitestorm, and Cinderpelt but the Warriors chosen were: Sandstorm and Graystripe (obviously), Dustpelt, Cloudtail, Brightheart, Goldenflower, Tawnypaw, and Fernpaw.

Cut to gathering, I wasn't going to draw everyone lol just the key players to keep an eye on such as all the Clan leaders, deputies, and their medics, Morningflower, Gorsepaw, and Onewhisker.

The gathering would play out in the books where every leader talks and when Firestar tries to tell them what Tigerstar has done, the clouds begin to cover the moon. However this time, panicked he'd lose this opportunity, of the potential harm that Tigerstar would wreak lest he stopped this...Firestar lets out a battle cry, demanding Tigerstar face him in a Leader's Duel for his crimes against ThunderClan. Firestar's actions are incredibly divisive, with most of ThunderClan backing him up, but the other Clans protesting at a duel during a gathering, especially when the clouds are covered.

Winner remains, loser is exiled. No holding back.

Tigerstar smooths it over and accepts, the two circling each other. The fight starts out even, with Firestar being able to hold his own in the beginning...but he's running on adrenaline alone. The lack of sleep, the lack of food, the desperation of needing to win eats at him, and Tigerstar quickly gains the upper hand. The fight turns brutal in seconds as Tigerstar beats him and brutalizes in front of a horrified crowd...and taking the first life.

ThunderClan hurries out to stop it but the ShadowClan and RiverClan warriors stop them from interfering. This would add to set up of the two Clan's alliance.

The plan here was the beating to be completely done away from the viewer's eyes, with only the horrified reactions of allies from all Clans listening as another life is taken. In particular, there would be a focus on Tawnypaw who is witnessing the brutalization of her leader at her father's claws, it's implied Firestar loses another life in front of her. Cue the "Tawnypaw will remember this" text ala telltale games lol

Throughout this, an unseen figure would be seen making their way up the great oak.

It's as Tigerstar lifts his claw to claim a third life that the ThunderClan and WindClan warriors break free of the restraints from the other Clans, moving to swarm Tigerstar- but it's Gorsepaw who outspeeds them all, launching himself off one of the great oaks and right at Tigerstar!

Flinging himself onto the face of the tyrant, he manages to pull Tigerstar off of Tigerstar. However, Tigerstar flings him off and doesn't hesitate to snap his spine, killing the brave apprentice instantly. He's barely given a chance to breath as Onewhisker, Mudclaw, and Tallstar charge him with Onewhisker and Mudclaw being stopped by Blackclaw and Jaggedtooth respectively, while Tallstar 1 v 1's Tiger.

The perspective switches back to Firestar with the battle raging around him, fading in and out of consciousness. He looks up and he grows shocked, gaze fixed to something unknown. No one else sees it, the intense battle leaving Firestar alone to gaze up at the omen before him.

A massive cat made of dark, angry clouds stealing the moon. Sent surely by StarClan, Firestar thinks, right...?

He fades out of consciousness and Sandstorm and Graystripe take the lead, fighting through the mess of cats. They manage to get a hold of him with Sandstorm lifting him onto Graystripe's back, the two beginning to make their escape as ShadowClan and RiverClan cats grow hot on their heels. A majority of the ThunderClan cats help them, however Goldenflower and Dustpelt can only look on in shock.

Darkstripe tackles Sandstorm and she calls for Graystripe to make a break for it. While she's able to take on Darkstripe, Blackfoot ambushes her from behind and the two quickly begin to overwhelm her. She sees Dustpelt and calls for him to help, dodging blows. He doesn't help, eyes wide with shock. It's Cloudtail and Brightheart that intervene, yowling for Sandstorm to run and get Firestar to safety.

He howls for her to get to the garden, Sandstorm taking a moment to realize what that was before understanding hit her.A twoleg word that Princess, Cloudtail, and Firestar knew...and one that the rest of the Clans didn't. Sandstorm had only been familiar with the word when Firestar had introduced her to his sister on their search for Cloudpaw.

Without a moment to spare, Sandstorm hurries and guides Graystripe to Princess' garden, ending the arc where the first one had begun.

Princess would take in the story and comfort them both, thinking over the information. She recounts an old rumor, but one that she's not too sure of herself. However, she says they might be able to help. Desperate and unsure, Sandstorm and Graystripe agrees.

As Firestar begins to awaken again, Princess promises to bring them to someone named "Vivi".

#fallen stars au #this one was fairly easy to finish quickly since i had most of the base concept art and story figured out #other updates may be more text heavy #warrior cats #firestar #tigerstar #sandstorm #graystripe #tawnypaw #bramblepaw

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quartercirclejab · 1 month

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i have some thoughts about the Dyne sequence in FFVII Rebirth. spoilers for FFVIIR under the cut, and trigger warning for discussion and depictions of suicide

i feel like the way the scene is rewritten goes out of its way to undercut Dyne's agency, and to soften the blow of what he ultimately chooses to do

in the original, he makes reference to Eleanor's voice- the memory of her forgiving nature having become an extension of his own, now at war with his desire to blame Barret for everything that he's lost

in Rebirth, this is rewritten as Dyne being "mad with grief" in a more literal sense, with the scene reframed to imply he's seeing figures that aren't there, and is conversing with them

the decision to tweak his characterization from someone who's been driven to the brink by despair and regret to a more generic kind of cartoonish insanity feels like an attempt to explain away the self-destructive (and understandable) spiral that he's clearly been on since Barret left Corel

the battle itself reflects this, too. in the original, it's a solemn, solitary duel between Barret and Dyne, reminiscent of an old west duel, or the final act of an operatic tragedy. the landscape is stark, and the sudden disappearance of the rest of the party forces a feeling of desperate isolation- the isolation Barret and Dyne themselves surely felt, and which now ironically forces them to fight one another

the way Rebirth handles this starts out promisingly enough. it's still a duel, and that feeling of isolation is still there, but with a distinctly modern twist- with plenty of cover to duck behind and both combatants using their weapons on full auto, it feels less like a climactic western duel and more like the final shootout of a contemporary action-thriller... less "Unforgiven", more "John Wick." it's largely a function of how Rebirth handles the original's mechanics in a more general sense, and i have to say, it works for me. it's more hectic than the original, but the emotion is still there- a fight that runs hot, while the original runs cold

but of course, because it's a modern FF, it couldn't stay an understated duel- it has to be an overlong set piece with a whole second phase, during which Dyne reveals an unsettling new power that is implied to have further altered his already unstable mind

this pushes the battle away from being a somber, clear-eyed fight for revenge and into "Old Yeller" territory- an attempt to make the player feel justified in putting Dyne down

finally, the conclusion of the sequence: Dyne's fateful choice

in both versions, the revelation that Marlene is alive sends Dyne even further into despair, as he feels he's spilled too much innocent blood to be a father, and that Marlene was unlikely to remember him even if that weren't the case. in the original, he's unable to live with the weight of that, and he chooses to jump to his death. in Rebirth, the sudden convenient appearance of a horde of Shinra troopers shakes him out of his grief and sends him flying into a rage, giving him the opportunity to choose a more ambiguous "suicide by cop"

robbing Dyne of the decision to take his own life and instead having it come at the hands of nameless Shinra troopers undercuts the final tragedy of Corel, and the tragic contrast between Dyne and Barret. Dyne thinks that the violence he's committed in the name of vengeance makes him unfit to be a father, and unfit to live, but Barret says himself that he doesn't believe his own hands are any cleaner- the guilt over trying to raise Marlene while fighting Shinra as the leader of Avalanche is a contradiction Barret has been grappling with since the game began, and witnessing Dyne's suicide only deepens his personal crisis. Rebirth's change to the scene arguably reaffirms Barret's belief in the suicidal pursuit of vengeance, rather than causing him to question it, because Shinra has now stolen from him the chance to save his best friend. it's just another tally in the ledger that wants balancing, and another cup of gasoline on the conflagration that threatens to swallow Barret whole

the change also absolves Dyne himself, who had the chance to see Marlene again and try to rebuild his life, but decided he wasn't strong enough to face that challenge. in taking the decision to die out of Dyne's hands, the player's allowed to see him as just another victim of Shinra's cruelty, one who might have redeemed himself if he hadn't been tragically gunned down. a layer of the game's complexity and emotional depth is stripped away

i don't know. Rebirth's take is certainly more cinematic, in some ways, but i wish they'd handled it differently

#Barret Wallace #Dyne #Final Fantasy VII Rebirth #Final Fantasy VII #FFVII #FFVIIR #jab plays remake

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loousir · 10 months

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[Vampire] The only one

Vampire Male x Hunter Male Reader

Abel

Warnings/Notes: Mentions of blood, blood loss, knives, deep wounds, bandaging, nudity. I dunno, nothing crazy but part 2 coming soon. Will spice it up a bit with that one. I only went over this with a "proper" proof reading once so please forgive me

Part 2

If you like my work, please consider reblogging!

An infamous vampire you've been dueling with for the past decade has seemingly gone MIA. You didn't think much of it, assuming someone else ended him first or he had gone into hiding to plot his next move. Some days had gone by and there was no word of him, not even a confirmation he was dead. Not until you heard a weak knock at your door. You stood up from your arm chair and carefully opened the door. There knelt a battered and bruised body. It was covered in so much blood you couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman.

The head lifted to reveal the slashed face of your rival, an awkward yet desperate expression on his face. "I'm sorry I... I didn't know where else to go..." He said weakly, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. You stared down at him, a shocked and confused expression crossing your face as you realized what was happening. "What the hell..." You whispered. You looked around to make sure no one else was nearby and pulled him in. He may have been your enemy but you knew all about him.

"You understand who I am right?" You asked, staring down at him with furrowed brows. He nodded weakly. "Fully..." He said softly, voice rough with a cough, spitting blood across your floor. As much as your brain had been fighting with yourself, against your better judgment you pulled him into the bathroom. With a grunt, you picked him up and put him in the bath tub, turning on the water and letting it warm slightly before hosing him down. He didn't care you were being rough with him. His eyes remained closed as the blood was washed down the drain.

You were kicking yourself in the ass. You should have just killed him as soon as you opened the door and moved on with your life. But there was something that was keeping you from doing it. Maybe it was your curiosity. Wanting to know why or how he became so infamous. Or why he was a mess on your doorstep. Once he was as clean as you could get him, you ripped his clothes off, knowing they were ruined anyways. "Why did you come to me." You asked, tossing the wet, bloodied clothes into the sink. He didn't respond for a moment as he helped you get the clothes off. "I really... Didn't know where else to go..." He paused and glanced up to you while you were turned away. "I dont have anyone to help me..." He whispered.

You looked at him with a confused expression, starting to rinse him off again. He was fully naked and neither of you really cared in this moment. "I left my Coven." You blinked a couple times, pausing the water for a moment. "You left your Coven?" You asked, trying to understand what he had just said. He nods, still looking up to you. Now that the blood had been washed away, the cut that covered his face became more visible. It trailed from the left of his hairline and across his nose, stopping just at his right cheek bone, nearly missing his eye. It wasn't deep enough to warrant stitches. Thankfully.

"They did one hell of a number on you..." You said softly, continuing to rinse any wounds that were bleeding and carefully washing any blood that had crusted onto his skin. He closed his eyes and let you do whatever to take care of him. "Why?" He looked up to you again before looking away soon after. "It's a lot..." He said softly, sitting up more so you could get to his back and hair. "We've got all the time in the world..." You said, looking at the deeper slashes across his back that would need to be stitched. His hair was matted with blood, mostly at the ends so it didn't take much to wash it out.

He sighed, trying to find where he wants to start. "I've been turned for 60 years already but I hadn't joined a Coven until I was 47. I'm still a fledgling in Vampire terms." You listened to his words as you finished up washing him. "I was so brainwashed and dedicated to the Coven that I let them use me as a scape goat." He paused as you helped him out, sitting him down on the toilet and drying him off. You weren't sure if he could get sick but put a towel over his head to help soak up any leftover water. "Then we met." He paused as you stepped out to grab bandages as things you needed to patch him up.

"And you made me realize that I was just being used. So I did some digging around to find out what they were doing." You started with his legs, bandaging and stitching where it was needed, to which he didn't seem to mind. "And I'm sure you know... Considering you were pitted to hunt me and kill me." He said softly, tone changing a bit. You knew all too well. It was engraved into you. He was accused of committing mass genocide, and to say it was simply killing and drinking their blood was an understatement. You always assumed he had been some sort of all powerful ancient. It makes sense even if part of you didn't believe him. "Holy shit dude." You said, looking up to him. His expression was flicking between emotions. Shifting from anger, to sadness, to regret as he thought about everything that had happened.

You were onto his arms by now, leaving his torso and face til last. "Yeah. I'm sorry... For causing you trouble." He said softly. You shook your head. "Listen. As long as you, yourself, haven't killed anyone... I can't hold anything against you. Putting the facts together... There's no fucking way a towns worth of people could disappear in a night like that... Not without multiple parties." His eyes flicked up to look at you. Your expression held one of anger. You felt like you had been lied to as well. The hunters you were working for had to have known there was no way it was just one vampire doing this. There was definitely something going on. You had your suspicions on it but this confirms it.

He lifted his hand and placed it on your head gently, getting you to look up to him once more. "Thank you." He said softly, a tiny smile crossing his lips. You sighed and shook your head. "I dont really believe in people who are considered your 'allies' trying to kill you." You said, moving to work on his chest which wasn't nearly as bad as his back. His hand falls back to his side as he watches your hands work for a bit. "Just stay here for a while. Stay on the down low. I'll see what I can find out." You said softly, standing up from your kneeling position. "Let's go lay you down so I can do your back." You said softly, helping him stand and taking him into your bedroom. You didn't have a spare room and wasn't going to let him sleep on the couch. "On your stomach. Just be careful." You said, sitting him on the edge before letting him adjust as you went to grab the stuff from the bathroom.

"Are you hungry?" You asked, stepping back in. He was laying like a corpse with his eyes closed, opening them to look at you again for a moment. He looked away with what seemed like shame and didn't answer. "Hello?" You asked, leaning over the side of the bed to get started on his back. "I dont want to say yes..." He said softly. You nodded even though he couldn't see it. "Let me finish your back and I'll get you something." You said softly, phrasing it as if you weren't going to let him feed off of you.

Some time had passed as you carefully stitched his wounds. Neither of you spoke much and before too long, you had finished up and grabbed him some loose shorts to wear for the time so he wasn't buck naked. "Go easy for a while. Don't even think about ripping one of those stitches." You said, with a lighter tone as you left again to pack away the supplies you had brought out as well as dispose of the bloodied rags he had walked in with and clean the trail that had been left from your door. Thankfully no one really questioned when you came home covered in blood or took out soiled clothes as they were fully aware if what you did. It also helps it was the middle of the night.

Once you came back in, you make your way back to the bedroom to see him sitting up and looking at some of the decor that lined the walls. You grabbed a knife off of your night stand and sat on the bed next to him. He looked over to you as you held your palm up, slicing it open in front of him. His eyes widened as he grabbed your wrist. "The hells did you do that for?!" He asked, putting pressure so it didn't bleed much. "You said you were hungry. So eat." He shook his head and grabbed the role of bandages you left behind, trying to patch it up but you pushed it away. "I'll get you something tomorrow. Just for now."

He stared at you with wide eyes, looking from your hand back to your serious expression. "Eat, Abel." You said, using his true name. Abel went by several aliases and had no clue you even knew his real name. With great hesitance, he drank the blood that flowed from your palm. Albeit unintentionally, he hummed at the taste, enjoying the flavour. "Good to know I'm tasty." You teased lightly, a small smile crossing your lips. He looked up to you for a moment before looking away bashfully. "I didn't mean-" "I was teasing." You cut him off and pulled your hand back. "You can feed from me if needed but I'd be more than happy to find something when I go out tomorrow."

Abel looked back to you with a sweet gaze. "Thank you." He said softly. You nodded your head and stood up. "Keep a low profile. I could get in trouble if they knew I was housing you here. You are a wanted fugitive after all. By both human, and vampire terms." Abel smiled again and grabbed your hand, wrapping it up to make sure it didn't bleed anymore than it already had. "Rest well." He bid you as you walked back out.

Part 2

#male monster x reader #monster male #monster x male reader #exophilia #m4m #male reader #x male reader #x monster male #male x male reader

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mariaofdoranelle · 1 month

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The Courtship Deception - Part 7: Fight or Flight

Fic masterlist

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics

Sorry I disappeared, my mom is running for vice-dean at our uni and the elections got me so hyped!! Keeping track of the gossip alone could be a full-time job heheheheh

Anyway this chapter might go to the top 3 most unserious things I ever wrote lol

Warnings: duel with no depictions of violence; gay pining and heartbreak at its peak

Words: 1011 (oops!)

Aelin sat nestled under Rowan’s arm, both of them waiting at 6:58 p.m. in that forgotten temple. The sun was setting in different hues of blue and orange past crumbled walls, and her lover’s fingers combing through her hair were the only reassuring thing that day; they said, I’m here. I’m here for you.

The rejection of her marriage proposal wasn’t taken to heart—marrying Rowan right now would be a mean to an end, that being living on her own terms. It didn’t surprise her that he didn’t want that for himself.

What did surprise her is that, after all that, he still agreed to fight her suitors. Just because I’m not getting engaged to you this month, it doesn’t mean that I want other dudes to, he previously explained, and there he was: waiting for Chaol and Dorian to show up. After scolding Fenrys for making duel propositions on his behalf, of course, but he was still here at the end of the day.

“So…” Dorian trailed, announcing himself, and beelined his way to them by dodging the temple’s ruins. “How many people did Rowan propose a duel to?”

“Gods.” Chaol coughed, keeping some distance behind Dorian. “I better not die in this shithole.”

Aelin grimaced, just now remembering his allergies—between ancient stones and the moss-covered floor, things weren’t looking good for him.

“Evening, suitors.” Fenrys paced before what was supposed to be the altar, hands clasped behind his back. “As an unofficial coordinator of Aelin’s courtship, I arranged this—“

“I thought it was Rowan’s idea,” Dorian interrupted.

“Rowan challenged you two on a thruel.”

“A what?” Rowan asked.

“A thruel.” The “coordinator” sighed. “A duel of three.”

Chaol frowned. “How does that work—“

“Perfect.” Rowan slapped both hands on his thighs to get up. “Swords or guns?”

Her lips parted slightly. So he knew his way around a sword and a gun both. That’s… fuck, that’s definitely hot.

Fenrys had a devilish grin on. “Guns.”

“But right now?” Chaol looked around, seeking reassurance. “We don’t want to frighten Aelin, right?”

“Don’t worry,” Aelin said, moving to find a better sight of the whole temple. “Aelin isn’t frightened at all.”

None of the men seemed excited about the thruel, but they stood still, waiting for Fenrys to retrieve the guns. Between her three suitors, her bodyguard gave each an odd-looking gun. Aelin squinted her eyes as an attempt to get a better look, make sense of their bulkier build and little kidney-looking black thingy on top. Then he pulled out a bulletproof vest of sorts, but it looked so flimsy.

Wait a second.

“We’re choosing my future husband over paintball?” Aelin shrieked, incredulous.

Not that she was actually marrying any of them, but she had to play the part here.

“Yes,” Fenrys said, eyes hard. “It is an act of bravery, since it bruises like a bitch, and the last thing I need is a prince and a lord dying on my watch.”

“Or two princes,” Chaol added.

Rowan snorted, barely managing to keep his thoughts to himself.

After Fenrys revealed the true nature of the thruel, her suitors had a new lightness on the way they carried themselves, each finding a spot behind the ruins so the game could start.

Dorian even winked at Fenrys, and Aelin had yet to find out what that was about. By the way Chaol’s jaw clenched as he watched, the thruel was heated before it even started.

“Game on!” their designated referee signed.

With cautious advances, Chaol focused on Dorian. The other man did the same, so keen on attacking each other that they seemed to forget that this was a duel of three.

Rowan, who hadn’t moved an inch, sent Fenrys a confused look. A shrug was the only response he got.

Chaol ran to a nearer pillar, firing off a series of shots before he slid into cover again.

“Shoot me!” Dorian shouted, got up from behind his cover, and theatrically threw his gun on the floor. “What’s a paintball bruise compared to what you did to me?”

“What I did to you?” Chaol’s gaze slid from Dorian to Fenrys. Uh-oh. He continued, “You think I should be sorry? Well, I am! I really am sorry I was so hooked on you it upended my entire life—“

“But we were so close!” Dorian said. “I was fighting for you, and I was this close to convincing my mother about our worthiness when I found out about this… ploy to marry Aelin. Seriously, Chaol? My best friend?”

“Oh!” The lord let out an incredulous laugh. “I’m sorry, I thought I was your best friend!”

“You might’ve been in the past, but I don’t love you like a best friend anymore!”

Chaol’s face softened. “You love me?”

The two went on, too wrapped up to notice Aelin leaning closer to Fenrys and whispering, “Should we give them some privacy?”

“Nah.” A pause so her friend could catch on part of their dialogue. “I’m too curious about why they were chasing you.”

Aelin thought it was out of parental pressure like in her case, which probably happened with them too, but it seemed to be also to affect each other. She met Rowan’s gaze from the other side of the temple, and the poor guy looked lost, still in his thruel position.

Dorian soon caught up on his lack of privacy and led Chaol out of the temple so they could talk more, and only then Rowan left his spot behind a ruin. “Did I win?”

Aelin sighed, a fake wondrous look on her face. “My hero,” she joked.

He laughed and tugged her to him, trailing pecks from her face down her neck.

“You won the last round,” Aelin admitted before picking up Dorian’s gun from the floor. “Wanna lose the next one?”

His eyes glinted with amusement. “Do you want to lose it?”

They had been on dates—as much as a hard-working outcast prince and a sheltered heiress could within the span of twelve days—but none of them were as interesting as paintball at an abandoned temple.

“Hey!” Fenrys shouted, running their way. “I wanna play too!”

A/N: i can’t believe that it's finally me and you and you and me just us and your friend Steve DODODODODODODO STEVE

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#rowaelin #throne of glass microfics #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #the courtship deception #tcd

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