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itsonlydana · 2 months

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"passenger princess" | chapter seven

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 3,6k

❱ summary: phone-call interruptions on a lazy sunday morning / defining the word "date"

❱ warnings: none

❱ an: we're halfway through and I'm more in love with this man every word I write

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER SEVEN: QUESTIONS

You awoke to a low, deep-throated groan right next to your ear; the sound pulling your hazy, sleep-infused mind into reality faster than any alarm could've.

Multiple sensations surged through your body in a matter of seconds, from the heavy arm curled around your middle, a large hand broadened over your stomach, the leisure exhales of breath hitting your neck, and of course, the delicious, if not close to unbearable, heat of another body pressed against your back.

The memory of the conversation in the kitchen, sharing doubts and fears over chocolate cake, was all too clear, as was the movie which had turned out to be much more interesting and enjoyable, when you had a hand to cling onto.

Halfway through the second movie, you had felt the pull of exhaustion that came from a day out swimming, in your bones, and after a while, it had become impossible to fight the – becoming gradually harder and the moments in-between shorter – heaviness of your eyelids fluttering close.

You remembered falling asleep to the giggles of Legolas, the hushed whispers of Aragorn, and the hypnotic and serene rising and falling of Thranduil's chest that became your pillow as you gave up concentrating on the movie and instead focused on his hand in the back of your head, stroking through your hair until your consciousness slipped away.

Before your mind railed off into an overload of thoughts prompted by this, another groan followed the last one, this one blending into a deep inhalation of air.

The muscles of the arm tensed up as you heard a yawn indicating that Thranduil, because this was without a doubt Thranduil, was waking up as well.

Regulating your breath, eyes still closed in an effort to stay in this cozy headspace a little while longer, you listened to the rustling of the blanket, to the tiniest movements of his body and just his breathing, luxuriating in this private moment.

Was there any other sound more comforting than that?

"Gods," his voice rumbled, yes, very much Thranduil, and his hand weighted down on your stomach.

As soon as he noticed, and you felt it in his chest heaving with another breath and his legs moving under the blanket that covered you both, Thranduil slowly pulled the hand out of your shirt.

The feeling of its weight and the size stayed prickling under your skin, even as he shifted, yawning and groaning quietly, to roll his shoulders.

He pushed himself up on one elbow, using his free hand to trail his fingers over your temple, pointer and middle finger drawing circles that moved all across the side of your face that wasn't nestled into the cushion in a feather-like lightness that, when he reached the bow of your lips, tickled just enough for your mouth to twitch into a smile.

"Good Morning," Thranduil murmured drowsely, sleep still coating his words and tongue.

You answered in humm, signaling – kind of– verbally you were awake, before turning to your other side, stretching your legs along his.

"Morning," your voice was still raspy as well, but you couldn't be bothered to stand up for a glass of water.

Thranduil in the morning was truly an unfair sight, because how could this man have woken up not a minute ago and his eyes were already sparkling like a cool lake in the mountains and in them a look of pure adoration as they took you in.

Sunlight fell through the windows, indicating it must've been a while since the day started and you couldn't have cared less except that the warmth in those rays shimmered in the air around you, resting their golden touch on Thranduil's hair and he looked– ethereal.

Unreal, almost.

But, to the enjoyment of your heart and singing soul, this was indeed real and Thranduil was here on this sofa, loose strands of hair falling on you as he continued the exploration of your in-awe face.

"You know," he started and lost himself for a second, as his fingers brushed your lips again and you swallowed hard, "I don't remember the last time I slept through the whole night." Chuckling and looking around, he added: "And on this sofa as well."

"Wow, and here I thought you would complain about your back," the smile that came from the soft touches of his fingers bled into your teasing, the corners of his mouth tipping upward at the comment as well.

"Mhm, what's that? Swore I heard you say something about my age but that couldn't be, right?" Thranduil's finger followed the bridge of your nose, flicking the tip in one tap as he raised one eyebrow, "You wouldn't dare on a morning this beautiful and barely after waking up."

"What if I did?"

"Then you are awfully brave for a woman at my mercy."

"Your mercy?" you giggled, fully aware you were going nowhere while his large frame towered over you, "First your back, then this– didn't know you're already that senile."

"Oh, now–" Thranduil playfully sneered, leaning over in such a quick motion that his hair fell on you like a curtain, and his other hand landed on the other side of your face, basically trapping you right where he wanted you, "I assure you my mind is still very much sharp and even if we just woke up, I'll not hesitate to throw you into the pool."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a promise."

Chocking on your breath, you opened your mouth in another witty reply, though nothing came to mind.

Thranduil sensed that this time you wouldn't bite back and the grin on his face was satisfied, shifting into smugness: "I'll let this pass once because I admittedly am in no rush to get up," the long line of his body fitted perfectly against yours, the weight a comfortable, if not exhilarating, reminder how much taller he was and his knee nudged yours as he slowly lowered himself more, "But know that I've gathered quite a few tricks in my age that go further than that."

"Yeah?"

Unfortunately and it filled you with deep regret, it got no closer than his eyes brushing over your lips, another chance of a kiss passed right in front of your eyes as Thranduil's phone started ringing on the coffee table, breaking the spell of this lazy morning before it could progress further.

With an apologetic look, Thranduil sat up on his folded legs, taking the blanket with him so it hung over his shoulders in a long, fluffy wine-red coat and exposed you to the chilly air.

"Oropherion," he answered the phone, the sleep disappearing almost immediately from his voice to be replaced by an authoritarian and composed tone that bordered on sharp and sent tingles through your stomach while you finally sat up as well.

Thranduil held the phone in one hand, the other gently squeezed your naked ankle.

It was soothing, to simply let him caress your skin as he listened to the person on the other end of the line, his eyes focused on where his fingers moved absentmindedly, and not care that this morning got interrupted by his work.

"Alright, Feren, thank you for calling me. No, of course–" He cast you an apologetic look, "I'll be on my way soon. Prepare a statement for PR ASAP; tell them I want that published before I'm in the office or– yes, that. No, tell Thorin to fuck off and do what I say, that thickheaded man better has his arse up and going right now."

You pressed a hand to your mouth to stifle the giggles that bubbled up your flipping stomach, there was something about Thranduil cursing the laziness of his partner of the firm while he was still in the clothes of yesterday, hair –while looking beautifully soft– in disarray and by now you knew he wouldn't leave the house before having his cup of coffee and changing at least twice.

He raised one eyebrow at your antics though it only fueled the giggles further.

This cracked a smile on his face, one he gave into with an annoyed roll of his eyes. Thranduils fingers curled around the phone. "Have the papers on my table in five, the statement out in ten and.. Feren? If Thorin isn't there and on my line in fifteen minutes–"

No more words were needed, Thranduil simply hung up and turned his gaze back onto you.

"You, Miss, are glad that I do not have the time," he said slowly.

You, being who you are, stuck out your tongue at him. "Can't help a girl for wanting a calm Sunday. It's your fault that your firm needs you to hold their hand."

All of a sudden, he tugged sharply on your leg and had you once again below him. He smirked at your surprised yelp. "Tell me," Thranduil started lowly, "what sets you apart from them?"

And while you were catching your breath, staring into his bright eyes, he swiftly stood up and left you there, gaping at him as he strolled through the living room.

"Come on, I'll drop you off on my way."

"Oh, the nerve of this goddamn man!"

How you managed to get ready was unfathomable yet somehow you were in Thranduil's car before Legolas and Aragorn had even woken up, once again dressed in one of his sweaters and a pair of shorts, that were cinched by an elastic hair tie.

The hair tie was his as well. It felt comically domestic as you had helped him prepare a coffee to go, standing next to each other in the kitchen, and he had leaned down, long and agile – cold – fingers tying the shorts up in no hurry.

Falling into the familiar seat in clothes that smelled like him and having the sun beat through the window as he steered the car out of the driveway fueled you enough for the day to make up for the fact he hadn't kissed you again.

Initially, the only sounds were the whir of the engine and Thranduil's tranquil, rhythmic breathing.

Then, he tapped on the dimmed display, and orchestral music filled the air from the speakers:

The Carnival of the Animals, the piece of the swan.

Immediately you turned your head to him. "Oh, I love this piece!"

Thranduil smiled and from your position, you saw the dimple in his cheek.

"I feel the same way," he remarked, his smile tinged with nostalgia. "We used to attend the Philharmonic in town every week. My parents enjoyed these outings, but I never quite connected with the other children over discussions of politics and history. Instead, I'd settle into the seat by the balcony railing, immersing myself in the music as if it were the very air I needed to survive," he told you.

You listened to his voice, probably your favorite sound in the world above the deep cello, both lapping over you in quiet waves and you snuggled into the sweater.

There was nothing he could say that wouldn't be interesting to you, not in that voice of his.

No matter if he lectured you and Legolas on something he heard you talking about, or if he commented on current political situations on weekend breakfasts together, scoffing over something written in the papers.

He could chat about his day, throwing around names of people you didn't know and numbers you didn't understand but you would be listening no matter what.

And at that moment in the car, with his voice dripping like honey and talking with the same grace as the poetry of the classics he was praying, you fell even harder for him.

"I used to have such a deep love for classical music that I pleaded with my father to buy me an instrument, something beyond the recorder we played at school. I'll never forget the moment I unwrapped one of my Christmas presents and found myself holding a violin in my hands; it was one of the most cherished gifts my parents ever gave me." Thranduil glanced at you, his grin widening.

"Now, take a guess at which piece I dedicated a year to studying." He didn't wait for a response, nor did he need to. "I practiced diligently every day until my fingers ached and my neck grew stiff, but every ounce of effort was worth it. After a year of dedication, I had the opportunity to perform at the Philharmonic and showcase 'The Swan' in front of my loved ones."

The image painted itself in your mind; a young Thranduil, in one of his fine suits, his blond hair already long enough to flow down his back like water, on stage playing The Swan while putting the beauty and elegance of the animal to shame.

He would stand straight, engaging as always, his long fingers on the strings of the violin and his eyes resting only on the instrument in his hands.

You had seen often enough with what fondness and gentleness he had examined a good book, to imagine how he would examine this violin, sanctified by him, like his dearest object on earth came easy.

"Do you still play?" you asked, not entirely innocently.

Thranduil hummed softly and shook his head, causing a hint of disappointment to spread through you. "Not anymore, not for a long time. I don't think I'll really start again, either. I'd rather go to the philharmonic, I can get much more involved with the music there."

"I understand that. It must sound fantastic live, all these instruments in their full sound."

With a surprised and curious look, Thranduil turned back to you. "Have you never been to a concert before?"

You screwed up your face, eyebrows together and lips curled. "Does the musical from my ninth-grade class count, where half were bad recorders and the other half were even worse singers? If not, I'll have to say no. Never to a concert that played classical music."

It was true what you said, except for that one –disastrous, it must be said– musical you had never been lucky enough to hear classical music the way it was meant to be heard.

So far, your headphones have always had to suffice.

Thranduil clicked his tongue against his teeth, and you wanted to tease him for this visibly privileged outrage when he gifted you a cheeky grin. "Your education in that aspect has been criminally neglected."

"Want to give me a lesson?" you asked before you could stop yourself.

Thranduil, taken aback, swallowed, then caught himself. "Sure," his voice sounded horse, "–what do you want to learn?"

"Everything."

"Everything?" he repeated and you saw the shift back into his usual self, the one that adapted quickly to you taking him by surprise, "That sure is a lot."

You giggled, "Oh, afraid you're not up for it?"

Thranduil's hands curled around the wheel as if the seat he was sitting on wasn't bracing him enough and he needed to hold on to something.

You pushed your hands under your own thighs as well and felt giddy as your nails dug into his sweater.

"You're too sassy for your own good," he breathed out a laugh and threw you a look through the mirror that contradicted the seriousness of that statement.

"In three months, the Carnival of the Animals will be performing right here, at the Philharmonic Hall in the city," Thranduil said. "If you allow me, I would like to take you there."

"Thranduil–," you began, straightening up in the seat, but with a shake of his head, he interrupted you.

"No, I know what you want to say and I want to invite you, love," he said gently yet firmly.

You frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That is to say that I could see your pretty head immediately worrying about the tickets. You have this offended and defensive look, like when Legolas once asked you to take a cab or when I offered to take you out to dinner with Legolas and me–I realize how hard it can be as a college student not to think about the money, believe me, Legolas refuses my help more than often."

You gnawed on your bottom lip, immediately throwing his words around in your mind.

"However, I'm not asking you to pay for it." Thranduil turned his head to you for a moment at a red light. His blue eyes shone bright and radiant like the clear sunny skies.

"I want to ask you out, take you out, or whatever they call a date these days."

A Date.

Your eyes continued to linger on Thranduil, even though he'd turned his attention back to the road. You couldn't break away from him.

All at once you were aware of how much bigger than the question of cost this conversation was. It was bigger than this car, pressing against the doors and windows, stretching apart like a bubble gum bubble you were just waiting to burst. It was too big for every word that came into your head, and after chewing on them for far too long, the very thing you were trying to prevent flew out.

"Netflix and chill."

"Excuse me?" The horrified look on Thranduil's face was indescribable, a mixture of pure shock and incredulity at what you had said.

You stammered, a little unsure if you really wanted to explain to him what you meant: "Well, nowadays, you don't really date anymore. So not like in the old days with dates to the movies or ice cream or going for a walk. Oh god, um you just meet to watch movies at someone's house, but you don't actually watch movies?"

"I understand the basic principle," You turned onto a bigger street at the most appropriate moment, you could see the slightest hint of blush at the tips of Thranduil's ears.

You took a deep breath and pressed a button to lower the window a little. As soon as the breeze played with your hair, you felt your body relax. "Good.. that's good. Jeez, I don't know if I would have wanted to go into more detail." A short laugh burst out of you while your head was still spinning around his words.

He never even kissed you but such a step as an official date had never come up as well and you somehow didn't believe that would be what Thranduil wanted.

He could have so much, probably even with just a flick of his fingers or a blink of his wonderful curved eyelashes.

Not that you would tell him that. This would probably be one of your worries that would eventually be slurred by drunken tongues on nights when you could let all your walls down and find home in the arms of your best friends.

"Would you allow me then?" asked Thranduil as he guided his car off the highway, and the light of sky-high glass towers reflected on his curious face.

"What?" you couldn't help but tease him "Netflix & Chill? Quite a bold question Mr. Oropherion, don't you think?" Oh how easy it was to fall back into this game with him, the back and forth.

Thranduil extended his hand to your thigh, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

After this morning, your body hummed delightfully at being physically close to him again.

"Well, I have to admit to being more of a fan of the classic courting, but if the lady wants to play by her rules, I'll throw away the tickets to the theater and we can pretend to watch a movie," he said, his voice low and in the same teasing tone.

You almost choked on your next breath, so suddenly your heart stopped, only to continue beating twice as fast in the next moment.

You sought his gaze, and it was infuriating that he kept looking down the road. "You already have tickets?"

Thranduil's hand on your leg didn't stay still, his thumb began to stroke small circles over your skin.

"Of course," he said without really responding. An annoying, self-satisfied grin pulled at his lips, even if he tried to suppress it.

Your voice was breathless as you whispered, "And you would really go with me? To the Philharmonic for a real live concert?"

Thranduil gave a theatrical enough sigh to be able to stand on the stage himself. "Now that you ask, I had tickets for the night when they just set up speakers and run everything through Bluetooth, but if you really want to, we can go listen to the Carnival of the Animals live."

Awkward with your words, which you lacked so often because of him, you simply grabbed his hand and beamed at him.

Thranduil turned his gaze from the red light in front of you and smiled at you. His hand turned, intertwining his long manicured fingers with yours.

"I'll take that as a yes? You'll allow me to take you out on a real date and you won't worry your pretty head about anything, but let me take care of everything?" he picked up, looking at you insistently enough that all your insecurities blurred within the cerulean sea of his eyes.

Instead, you leaned back in your seat, grinning, floating on a cloud of Thranduil's scent, the warmth of his hand in yours.

"But only because you begged me."

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris , @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax @tigereyesf

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #thranduil #lord of the rings x you #lord of the rings x reader

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alabama-metal-man · 1 year

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the obianidala discord went wild with medieval obidala au chat so here's this

He is not supposed to be there yet he stands, sunlit and golden, in the doorway of her chambers, holding her stunned gaze with troubled eyes.

“I am not a selfish man,” he says suddenly, without preamble. She feels the first unwise step of her feet towards him, compulsive, instinctive.

But she remembers herself, remembers what’s at risk, and halts. Pulls herself back. Turns away and toys with the wedding jewels laid out for her at her dressing table, feigning preoccupation.

She does not know how or why he’s come, and does not let herself hope.

“Indeed you’re not, good sir,” she agrees in a polite, detached tone; it’s all she can give him. All she can afford to offer now. And it is no lie; he is kind and noble, selfless. “Your heart is unmatched.”

His footfall is slightly uneven on the wooden floor behind her — the lingering symptom of an old injury from the war — and she is acutely aware of it. Feels his ever-known presence growing closer with each step. Feels the reflexive lean of herself into it. “Then why, Your Grace, do I find myself struck by these… thoughts… that are so unlike me? That I cannot rid myself of?”

“Thoughts?” She cannot hide the lilt in her voice, the upward cadence of it as her curiosity piques, as her heart surges painfully beneath her ribs. She clears her throat, idly fingering a strung pearl necklace in front of her. “Such as?”

“Selfish thoughts…” She can feel him just behind her, and stills.

“Of what, dear sir?” She whispers, eyes fluttering shut as she relishes in his cherished presence, denied to her in these final days of her engagement. His breath is light, warm like a summer breeze, against her skin, stirring the hair at the nape of her neck.

“You,” he hums, his nose grazing the soft curtain of her hair, tracing the shell of her ear. “And how I do not wish to share you with another…”

His confession, long awaited, leaves her breathless, has her leaning back into the sturdy wall of his chest. He sucks in a deep breath, flat palms sliding around the silk bodice of her gown to pull her flush against him.

“How I want you for myself.”

Her breath hitches, falls from her lips in a tremulous sigh, the sound recalling long spent nights twisted together in bedsheets and their own heady need.

“It is both a great pleasure and a relentless torment,” he continues, “To want you this much. To know I will never be able to release you.”

She shakes her head. It’s a farce of a protest. Weak. Passive. Without any real conviction behind it. “I’m to be married tomorrow. And Lord Skywalker is—is—”

She cannot finish her sentence, does not know exactly what she means to say. Skywalker is a good man, a worthy man. Powerful, and indeed his good name would do well for her kingdom. But for all that he is, for all the good he could do, he is not…

“Padme,” he says her name like a prayer and it nearly undoes every fragile strand of her resolve. She turns her head, inclines it to look upon him. Lets her breath mingle with his, lets his lips brush across her cheek, her jaw, the plush bow of her lower lip. “My lady… my love…”

“Obi-Wan…” She slips her hands over his, still pressed tight against her ribs, their heat radiant through her corset, straight to her skin, flushed and aching for him as it always has. She nudges his nose with hers, almost meets his mouth. Her whisper is pained, filled with regret she cannot even attempt to conceal. “I—I have a duty to my people.”

His forehead presses to her temple and she feels him nod. Feels his hands flex under hers, feels them slipping from her grasp, retreating. She holds tight to them, unwilling to let them go.

“As do I, to my Queen…” he mutters into her skin, voice thick with longing, with grief. “And I will not defy your word. I will not compromise your kingdom… So tell me, Your Highness. Please. Tell me to leave you now and I will.”

She knows he will. Knows that his selfless heart still rules even his selfish desires. Knows he will do almost anything she asks of him. Knows he long ago pledged himself to her, not only in service but in heart.

And she knows the ache that lives inside him, the ever-raging conflict of duty and desire. His torment is her own.

And so she turns, blinks away the sting behind her eyes and faces him with steady resolve, with the reflection of his woe, his longing, his love. She raises her hand to his face, touches her fingers to the rough of his beard, whispering a confession of her own.

“I can’t.”

#EDIT: it’s uploaded to ao3 and I’m actually making a few edits/adding to it!#this was an exercise in restraint to see if I could write something simple without flooding the work with excessive backstory and details #was it a success? that's for you to decide #obidala #obi wan x padme #star wars au #my moodboards #my writing #also @ discord friends this was mostly influenced by the gifs I sent so I hope you enjoy 😘

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blackjackkent · 6 months

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The battle to free Halsin went quite well! We intercepted the goblins who were trying to escape the area, which would have lit up the whole temple against us, and no one took a ton of damage.

My favorite part was when Halsin slipped and completely ate shit on the ice left by Gale's Ray of Frost and Gale kind of stood there and stared at him:

Everyone's making super tired noises, so the plan is to get Halsin out as quickly and quietly as possible and then make camp on the road.

Time to have a chat with Mr. Bear.

As Hector approaches him, the bear's form shifts and twists, resolving itself slowly into the most massive elf Hector has ever seen.

Halsin stands at least a head over Hector's six feet, a broad-shouldered and thick-muscled stone wall of a man. His face is scarred, bearing the record of a thousand fights, but he looks down at the group of his rescuers with an air of benevolence, and his voice is kind as he dusts himself off.

"Pardon the viscera. One should cherish all of nature's bounty...but goblin guts are quite far down on the list." He grins crookedly at Hector. "You aided a bear without knowing if it would savage you? A true friend of nature - or perhaps a lunatic." He inclines his head slowly. "Either way, I owe thanks. I am the druid Halsin."

Hector squints at him. "You're Halsin - the Master Halsin of the Emerald Grove?"

Halsin smiles. "Yes, but just Halsin will suffice. Unbecoming to demand honorifics from the one who saved my hide."

"I've been to the Emerald Grove. It's in danger." The words spill out of Hector perhaps a little too quickly. He desperately wants to be gone from this place, to impress upon Halsin the urgency of leaving as soon as possible.

His words elicit a frown from Halsin, but no surprise. "I am aware," he says sadly. "I foolishly left it vulnerable to this rabble. There's work to be done." He hesitates, then looks more closely at Hector and the others. His frown deepens sharply. "Hrm. That look in your eyes. I've seen it before. Are you feeling all right?"

Without waiting for an answer, he lifts a hand and sends a burst of golden energy surging over Hector, closing his eyes as if listening for something only he can hear.

When he lets his hand fall and the light fade, he looks grim.

"Oak Father preserve you, child... You're infected, aren't you? The mind flayers' spawn..."

It has been, at the very least, twenty years since anyone referred to Hector as 'child' - but it reminds him of the elders at the monastery, the affection and concern of those who were not his parents and yet were his family. Hector feels something loosen in his chest with relief, and he nods wearily.

Halsin is still watching him thoughtfully. "But...something's different. You're aware of the monster inside you. You don't bow to the Absolute, like the True Souls do. How is this possible...?"

He begins to circle the group slowly, examining them from all sides.

"I escaped from an illithid ship after being infected," Hector says. "Maybe the process was interrupted."

Halsin grunts pensively. "Perhaps. But I wouldn't want to place all my faith in blind luck. It's no coincidence that you found me here, I'll wager? You're after a cure for the parasite."

Again a silent nod from Hector, and this time he can't hide the plea for assistance in his eyes. Halsin sighs. "I've been studying these parasites for a while now. Ever since I discovered these so-called True Souls are infected with them. Someone is using very powerful magic to modify these tadpoles. They are using them to exert control over the infected." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry to say, I can't undo that magic, which means I can't cure you." He sees Hector's gaze sink, and adds gently, "But that doesn't mean I can't help."

He looks around at the battered bodies of the dead goblins. "I didn't find what I came here for - a way to remove the tadpoles - but I found the next best thing. I found out where they come from. That must be where these enchantments are placed on them, and it's where you'll find your cure."

Hector straightens a little, hope flaring in him again. So far, Halsin seems to know the most of anyone they've talked to about exactly what they're up against. "Tell me what you've learned about the tadpoles' origins."

"I overheard that the cultists are sending all of their captives to Moonrise Towers. Innocents go in, True Souls come out. Given that all of these True Souls are infected, it has to be the source of this magic." Halsin snuffs out a breath in a manner reminiscent of the bear he just was, and looks at Hector intently. "If you want to find a cure, you must head there and discover how the tadpoles are being manipulated."

Hector nods slowly. This tracks with what he heard from the Zhent trader outside, and it's a plan, the clearest they've had so far. "You seem to know a lot about this," he says hopefully. "Will you come with me to Moonrise?"

Halsin shakes his head. "I wish I could, but there's still work I"ve yet to finish." His eyes harden, a flicker of the beast behind the placid exterior. "Blood I've yet to spill." He hesitates, then goes on, looking between his four rescuers. "I've no right to ask more of you, but if you could help me...I'd be free to join your journey to Moonrise. I cannot allow these butchers to threaten my grove. The natural order must be preserved."

Hector seizes on this eagerly. He wanted to help the grove anyway and wasn't really interested in leaving until that situation was dealt with - and Halsin is seeming like a more useful traveling companion all the time. "All right," he says. "How do I help?"

Halsin seems to relax, and a smile flicks across his face. "My thanks. If you prevail, I'll owe you the debt of a lifetime." He glances towards the door leading to the upper floors. "Rare is the beast that survives decapitation. Help me eliminate the drow Minthara, the hobgoblin Dror Ragzlin, and that perversion of a priestess, Gut. They are the ones holding these parasites together. Remove them and nature will cure itself."

Hector grimaces thoughtfully. He has seen all three of these people, but none of them are alone in a scenario where killing them individually seems likely. For all their caution earlier, it feels like open battle may be the only option, if destroying those three is the goal. "Having a shapeshifting bear-druid at my side might make things easier."

Halsin smiles ruefully. "Be warned. My presence could make things much more difficult. I can only restrain my bear form so much. I won't be able to help but attack goblins." He shakes his head. "If I join you, we'll likely have to slaughter this entire place. You may want to use discretion when approaching the goblin leaders."

That gives Hector some pause. He doesn't relish the idea of fighting the whole place, and maybe there is a chance of tricking all three leaders individually. On the other hand...he has neither skill nor inclination for deception (particularly trickery with the parasite, which seems the most effective option, but his skin is still crawling from the last attempt with Ragzlin), and it's just as likely to lead to a straight fight anyway if he fails - and Halsin would be a strong asset to have in that case.

And...this is a temple of Selune. A place so like his home. These blasphemous things should be driven out of it.

He draws a slow breath and lets it out. "Come with me," he says firmly.

Halsin inclines his head, moments before the bear transformation begins to take hold of him again.

"So be it. May Silvanus lend us nature's fury."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #wellp guess we're fighting our way out #halsin seems nice tho c:#hopefully he is not also holding a Giant Secret that will make Hector uncomfortable :P

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whogavemeapen · 10 months

Text

Old Gods

@flashfictionfridayofficial for the prompt

I may or may not have had little miss perfect lyrics running through my mind while writing this. Shokingly, this has no ties to the songs lyrics.

Anyway, enjoy!

It doesn’t make any sense.

Or, she mused, putting down her glass of water, staring at the tacked and red stringed map, it did, but she couldn’t find it.

But Akilah was nothing if not persistent, and she would figure where the random bursts of elemental magic came from, even if it killed her. So, as all good scientists would do, she removed the red string connecting the thumb tacks, and started from scratch.

Best to start with the facts.

There were 20 total occurrences all within the same day

These events only involved elemental magic, which hadn’t been seen in over 1000 years

They didn’t match any man-made pattern

Gods above, she knew she was close, she could feel it. She was on the edge of discovery.

She picked up the glass of water again.

She was almost certain the key was the pattern. But she couldn’t find one that fit. No checkerboard, no significant locations, no golden rule. No man-made pattern she knew of-

Wait.

No man-made pattern

No man-made

Man-made

Man. Made.

She slammed down her glass.

What if it wasn’t man-made? What if it followed the patterns of nature? A-a wave pattern, or succulent leaf pattern, or-

She peered into the water of her glass, before looking to the map.

If she looked hard enough, looked at it just right, it looked almost like a-

“Ripple pattern,” Akilah whispered.

She got up close with her red string, to check. She wouldn’t get her hopes up for a dud.

But it worked.

It worked.

One point rippled into seven, rippled into twelve.

Which would mean, she had a point of origin.

Said ‘point of origin’ ended up being in the old city park, near an old stone bench.

As Akilah got closer, that ‘near an old stone bench’ got nearer and nearer, until it was ‘right on top the thing’.

Now, if Akilah was a lucky person, she would immediately figure out what had caused the elemental surges, but that was not the case. No, it was just a decently nice clearing with a very detailed stone bench, cleaved by a large crack, but intact.

Gods of old, it was too late for new mysteries.

She sat on the bench with a sigh, running her hands over the carvings in the weathered stone. She also ran a finger along the crack.

It has to be recent, since it has no moss or dirt in it.

Unfortunately, her thoughts took a more negative turn.

Why did she do this to herself? Why did she think she had the ability to solve these types of things? It only ever led to-

Her fingers bumped over a carved name. A list of names, in fact.

Names she recognized.

Names of gods. Old ones.

But what would holy names be doing on a park bench?

Unless.

Unless it wasn’t a bench.

Unless it was something important, something holy, something that could be taken from a temple, something that could be mistaken for a bench.

Something like an altar.

Oh gods.

Something that should be kept in pristine condition to show respect.

Something that, when broken, could incite godly wrath.

Something that could bring about bouts of elemental magic.

Something that could bring back sleeping gods.

Words written: 548

#writing #flash fic friday #my writing #fff209

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spindrifters · 1 year

Text

Find a Word Tag

I snagged the open tag off @sliebman10 for fun and then gradually realized that almost all of these had to come from marginalia which is like. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ simply what happens when you have a 116k+ and counting monster fic I suppose.

The rules are simple - find the word (or something close enough) in a fic (WIP, published, whatever) and share the excerpt it’s in. Tagging @crushofdoves, @soloorganaas, and @mkaugust.

Words I was given: affection, slide, golden, heat, tinted

Your words: awake, notice, personal, scream, bright

affection: marginalia

He breathes in the air of the warm fireplace, and even the tired fever creeping at his neck and temples isn’t enough to break the moment. He leans his head back on the couch and laughs, smiling broad and true.

When he's finished, he turns his head to look at Sirius, dark eyes and fine aristocratic features crinkled up in a Cheshire cat smile that’s so purely him, and Remus can’t help the surge of affection that swells in his chest. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel particularly ill at all.

“Wanna go chuck shit up Peeves’ nose?” he asks.

Naturally, Sirius very much does.

slide: marginalia

He stays perfectly still as Sirius slides down to the floor next to him, untwisting the bottle once again. He doesn't move, not even as Sirius moves the dropper along the path of his deep and scabbing gashes, one clear drop of dittany at a time, the wounds sizzling as they close and melt away. They don’t burn, though, or sting. The effect is something more like being bathed in cool spring water. One by one Sirius heals the four long clawmarks, only stopping when he comes to the end of the final two, where they trail down below the waist of his trousers.

“I don’t…” says Sirius, almost awkward. “Do you want to…?”

He offers him the bottle.

golden: marginalia

Underneath is a photo, alive in vivid color.

The man is young, Remus thinks, barely in his thirties. He’s toweringly tall, wearing finely-tailored robes of midnight blue, and has an embarrassed sort of look, like he’d rather be somewhere else but is facing the moment with a decent measure of humor and goodwill. It’s the face of a stranger, not the one Remus sees in the mirror at night. Because the man's eyes are blue. His skin is pasty white. His hair may be a familiar tawny, golden-brown, but it’s straight as straw.

Hair color and height, Remus thinks with a lurch, and a sudden release of relief he didn’t even realize he was holding onto. That’s it. That’s all I ever got from you.

And then — The rest, that’s all Hope.

heat: death by honey

His eyes go wide. “You stopped by my parents’ place?”

“That I did, Monsieur Moony, that I did.” Another Tupperware snaps open, revealing a stack of moufletas, and Remus’ mouth by now is watering. “Grease is perennial and the season for oily food is always, only your lot were the only ones clever enough to dedicate a whole holiday to it. Not a chance I'd let us miss out. Also, your mum said to tell you they’re coming round in the morning, by the way. Also, your aunt’s well fit.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Remus says, peeling a moufleta off the stack and brandishing it like a threat.

Sirius puts a hand on his chest in dramatic display of mock outrage. “Dessert before dinner? You heathen. What in Merlin’s name have I let in my bed?”

“I’m an invalid, I’ll do as I damn well please.”

“Oh, and so uncouth, too.”

glint: marginalia (I couldn't actually find tinted anywhere so I went with glint instead)

Remus doesn’t swim, and whether that’s because of the algae or the scars hidden beneath his clothes or perhaps because he doesn’t know how, Sirius doesn’t ask. Instead, he crashes back towards the little floating dock, held aloft now with a bit of their combined magic, where Remus has peeled off his socks and rolled up his slacks to cool his feet in the chilly water.

Head thrown back to soak in the summer warmth, the sunlight glints in gold threads woven into Remus’ tawny curls. It refracts like gemstone off the long column of his olive neck, the elegant slope of his nose, the delicate lids and dark lashes of his closed eyes.

Well, that simply won’t do. Bloody rude of him, really.

Sirius draws back an arm and manages a fairly impressive splash, then promptly and thoroughly fails to avoid the wall of water conjured in retaliation. Remus grins in that fucking way as Sirius draws up to rest his elbows and forearms on the dock alongside him.

#my fic #fic meme

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fortifice · 5 days

Note

Even if his insomnia hadn’t kept him from properly resting that night, Aventurine would have recognized the symptoms of nocturnal turmoil in the deepest of sleeps. He can hear the way the captain’s breathing changes, not as though he were about to wake up, but as though he were afraid. Sweat beads at his temple & he sees fingers curl & uncurl against the bedsheets, searching for a weapon to defend himself from the demons in his head, perhaps. His phone is unceremoniously tossed aside when he hears the faint, almost inaudible whimper in the back of Gepard’s throat, the sound tugging at something in his chest so harshly it physically aches.

“Captain,” he reaches out to cup the face of the other blond. He can’t count how many nights the other man had fallen asleep in his hotel room instead of leaving once their activities had concluded. At some point, the gambler stopped having to ask him to stay, because he did so on his own as part of their former routine. Unable to rouse the soldier by calling his name softly, Aventurine wraps his arms around the larger frame & pulls him against his chest. He sees bright blue eyes jolt open at the unknown touch, lashes wet with tears, & a strong hand grabs his arm, painfully tight, his face white as a ghost.

“Shh, it’s just me. There’s no monsters here, you’re safe. Everyone is safe.” He cradles the man’s jaw until his eyes come back into awareness of his surroundings. “It’s okay, my star, it’s alright.” He guides Gepard’s hand to the stoneheart’s chest, so he can feel Aventurine’s heart against his palm, the steady thumping rhythm. “With me, darling. In, out, in, out. Just like me. I’ve got you.” As soon as his breathing is under control, he can see the excuse on his lips, ready to dismiss his nightmare.

Something tells Vasha he was used to dismissing his pain that way. “Don’t.” He shakes his head &, leaving no room for argument, guides the captain’s head to lay against his chest, one arm secured protectively around his back, his free hand begins combing through pale golden hair. “It’s okay… I’m here now. You don’t have to pretend with me, moy cherhaj vilo. Put down the shield, let me see you.” He kisses his forehead & holds him as tightly as he can.

Respite should be a place for soldiers to lay down their armaments, leaving the front line for a moment of rest, however, when the years have engraved the echoes of countless battles and innumerable deaths upon someone it became inextricable to them. Gepard Landau even stripped of his regal uniform and without his unconquerable shield was still the same man who weathered adversity and fought with all he had to shield the innocent. Nighttime was a cruel place to ask someone to find peace, so that their aching muscles might find relief and that their bones may not conserve within them the chill of the ice plains. There was no true alleviation to be found in it, whether he stood out amongst the undulating white of snow or within a warm haven of a room the anguish of that world still walked in tandem with him.

He does not like to think himself vulnerable, for if he accepts that he also permits in the torment of never being strong enough to save every person. The responsibility bestowed upon the noble Landau heritage was to deploy them as an impregnable defense, but they could be hurt, they could die, the preservation did not prevent them from being human when it came down to it. That was why he is besieged by it, for perhaps if he were an inanimate shield he could be unbothered by the death rattles of comrades, of their eyes as they grew distant and then sightless, he has not slept in true peace for the last decade.

So when he awakens, wrested from the ravening maw of death, he does so with a start, his eyes wide and stricken with terror, his pupils withered to pinpricks. His fingers bore into the other’s arm with terrible strength, as if it were his anchor, towing him up and above the surging dark water. It takes a long moment, the duration drawn out, brimming with tension, before he can breathe again, sharp, ragged inhales which make him feel as if he had been suffocating. Aventurine’s soothing cadence comes to him slowly, lulling him away from that trench of dread and back into lucidity, they were in the hotel, nothing here wanted to kill him. Instinctively he spreads his fingers, feeling the warmth as it chases the vestiges of cold from him, the steady thump, thump, thump mooring him more here than in the dark apertures of that dream.

“ I scared you, didn’t I. I’m so -” he shakes his head, it’s such a small gesture, yet it is not dismissive, it doesn’t make him feel the corroding bite of guilt for being so undeniably weak. Gepard was accustomed to being strong, it was imperative to his position, to his duty but no one ever told him when it was enough, if it ever would be enough. In resting against the other’s chest does he find a sliver of solace, like that warmth that belonged to another might ease the dull ache of remembering from him, if only for a moment. “ I didn’t intend for you to see me like that..” he says softly, like it was a confession, it may well have been. The gentle carding of fingers through his hair is palliative and has him almost entirely drawn from that harrowing nightmare. In appreciation he brings the other’s hand to his mouth slowly kissing each finger, casting his gaze upon the other less reticent than before, in those moments of waking he is truly far more mortal than the indomitable mantle of belobog’s citizens.

#i think abt the fact that gepard hasn't had a good / normal sleep for so long ALL THE TIME.#。 ‧͙*̩̩❆ ✧ in character ‚ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʷⁱⁿᵗᵉʳ﹐ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˢᵏ ᵐᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ / ᵃˢᵏˢ

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coconut530 · 5 months

Text

now that the first half of the season’s over…

SOLID STATE S1 PT. 1 DETAIL POST

(I’m quite obsessed still, strap in it's gonna be a long one. I'll put it under a Keep Reading for your dashes)

(each episode is one image, more or less, sometimes that’ll change but it’ll be listed. Also will have observations from my last post in it)

🩷CHAPTER 1: TAKEOVER💚

Takeover 1

Newspapers from Perth detailing another 50 degree summer in 2037, civil unrest, something with the world's newest trillion ?, and a newspaper from 2052

Concordia(n) Minerals sign

Dian's billboard to join WNDR

Shot of Egan, Recurring Background Character guy, and The Reporter

Recurring Union officials at a rally with a large mob facing the blonde police person

The Student walking in the Lower City

Prakash mentioning his meeting with the Temple of the Golden Hand that morning

Takeover 2

The implication of crime syndicates in the Lower City

One gang called The Vipers, headed by someone named Bishop

Eijiro being from a part of the Lower City called the Red Gate District (I’m assuming red gates that reference the ones in Japan that spirits can’t cross through, and Eiji’s more Japanese-leaning name, which translates to “reflective second son”(Google), which makes sense since he’s the second guy Prakash picked up out of the takeover gang 🤯)

Castel standing on a Tanser Tech truck

Takeover 3

Prakash telling Enzo to do as he's told, with a special highlight in his eye alluding to their past

Sign over the road saying "Remember your cooperation is required by law" which is...yikes

Takeover 4

The flying jav that Castel and Eiji use to get out of there in Takeover 8 being their wedding gift

The poisoned champagne being from Rook Tanser himself

The first shots of Tanser, Ecker, Aurun, Ramsay, and Iolanthe

"You know what they say... Prakash Malik knows how to invest!"

Prakash viewing both Enzo and Asha as "investments" which is... yikes. Eiji too I guess 😬

Takeover 5

"This is between me and him." Prakash is the one who had Enzo's eyes replaced, hence the focus on it (see Inheritance)

"Finally got the guts to make a move, eh?" Enzo tried to make a move in the past, and it didn't work (see Inheritance)

I think I deciphered Prakash's blurred dialogue

"I thought I taught you better than appealing to sentiment." (see Inheritance: “Enzo’s use may yet run out, and I will not hesitate over sentimentality.”)

Takeover 6

"You should be packing!" For Mars (see Inheritance)

Asha questioning Enzo’s eyes

Panel implying Enzo maybe disappointed Prakash in the past, resulting in his new eyes (they’re specially highlighted so maybe)

Enzo cutting Eiji off at the mention of Bruno, implying there's some special chemistry with them

Takeover 7

Castel wanting a panic room, mentioning they started to be built after some uprising

Meselon dealing with public health in Concordia

Asha's cybernetic contracts with Tanser Tech ( O_O ) (see Two of a Kind)

Ecker Byse owning the police force

Tanser Tech bribing every politician in the city

Takeover 8

Ramsay Hanan, of Hanan Heavy Industries

Ecker Byse, of Aegis Solutions International

Iolanthe Lieberthal III, Admiral-in-Exile of Heliodyne (Martian???)

Aurun Kastor-Valko, of Meselon

Rook Tanser, of Tanser Technology Augments

These are the people we're up against hahahhhaha

💛CHAPTER 2: SURGE🖤

Surge 1

Prakash about to go to Asha's wedding (Takeover 1)

The news headline above the upper city entrance saying "Police investigate union link" about Prakash's death

Subway Panel 1: Anti-union advertising, Recurring Union Leader, Jules (see Two of a Kind 4)

Subway Panel 2: Jules, Malik Industries advertisement "More than a company, we're family", Get Ahead Gigs

Subway Panel 3: VR thing, Rent-A-Friend

The subway slowly emptying, leaving Dian alone in the third panel, because majority of people don't live in the Upper City

Surge 2

Shadowy figure near Dian

Recurring Background Guy

Thommo and Beaux (see Two of a Kind 4)

Weird Priest Man implying someone or something purchases the failed uploading experiments (and someone in the comments validated by Veldenmire for wondering who could profit off that many dead people... Asha) (see Two of a Kind and Inheritance)

Surge 3

Jamilah and Dian arguing in front of a WNDR Prakash mourning event billboard

It shows how WNDR has put a wedge between them, as well as how far Prakash's death reaches

Recurring journalist outside Dian's house

The Reporter there as well

Surge 4

WNDR was expensive for people to use when it was first made, so they made their own technology, sedative pills and headsets

A screenshot from the Solid State short story published in the 2020 Brain Anthology of the protagonist Anya using this technology, as well as the old headset

Dian using the old headset and having a rough time

Surge 7 & 8

Egan being interviewed by that reporter (see Two of a Kind 1)

Foreshadowing of the events of Two of a Kind, how the robots are malfunctioning

Enzo's fancy new boots (Veldenmire said he was “going through it” :( )

💙CHAPTER 3: TWO OF A KIND❤️

Two of a Kind 1

The Surge happening in Malik Tower

Egg being flown over a Hanan Heavy Industries building

Egg being flown by the spot where Castel crashed the jav

Enzo’s MEMORIES, specifically the shot of Prakash, Enzo holding a lighter to someone (Bruno?????), and Enzo moments before he got his eye surgery

Enzo’s TATTOOS, Veldenmire saying he has one from each of the Takeover crew, Aoife was here, Butch woz here, Eiji’s possibly being the knife through the heart one, and I can’t pinpoint what Bruno and Giannis could’ve given him

Making you the best you can be (the best at what man?????? being a lackey????????)

Two of a Kind 2 & 3

ICOMA being on Ico's chest, what does it stand for?

Cyborg technology being illegal for decades, started in the 2050s

Cannot control them like robots, but much stronger than humans

Doctor from the Temple of the Golden Hand working in this dump on the cyborgs

Two of a Kind 4

The WNDR billboard being cracked and smashed

Get Ahead Gigs dog

Jules

Thommo and Beaux

The architecture of the Upper/Middle City pressing down on the Lower (Veldenmire said in the comments somewhere that some buildings run all the way up and down, but the Upper is always seemingly above (oppressing) the lower)

Two of a Kind 5 & 6

The slogan on the top of the elevator for Malik Industries: "...Malik, we're more than a company, we're a family!" which just makes the whole situation with the Takeover squad a little sadder bc Prakash preached that to them and then used it as his company slogan

The workers wishing they joined the Union

Enzo’s full name: Vincenzo Della Vecchia (he’s Italian, I wonder what Prakash was doing in Italy to find him)

The billboards Egan’s passing with: The person Dian yelled at in Surge 2, another recurring newscaster, and the Recurring Union Leaders

Union standoff enters 6th month

💖MIDSEASON FINALE: INHERITANCE💖

Eiji’s sword originally being Asha’s

Prakash implying the existence of Mars colonies in the 2100s (Veldenmire saying in the comments: "OF COURSE colonies on Mars are a feature in this timeline! We've done plenty of fun world building up there, and perhaps... maybe we've already met some Martians" ) (WHO'S A MARTIAN?????????)

Prakash using Asha to get what he wants (she learned from him how to use others)

ALSO SORRY IT’S NOT PICTURED BUT Asha blaming The Temple of the Golden Hand and the Lower City Union for killing Prakash

Enzo tried to make an attempt on Prakash’s life, and failed

Then as punishment Prakash replaced his eyes

Again he thought of him as an investment (see Takeover 4)

He’s been in pain ever since (poor guy… 🥺)

Jamilah and Dave asking people if Dian saved them during the Surge

Butcher…

The Reporter on a call, suspecting the turn of events for the Malik case

Anti-Union advertising on the subway (Concordia Business Council?)

Aofie…

Castel!!!! Not wearing only white!! They look good in pink!!

*deep sigh, trying not to scream* Asha’s Elite Units being the cyborgs of Butcher, Aofie, Giannis, and Bruno (she’s using Bruno specifically to break Enzo, implying again a special relationship between them)

WHAT COMES NEXT?

Chapters 4, 5, and 6 will focus on these three here, who I’ve dubbed The Student, The Reporter, and The Brawler. We saw The Student in Takeover 1, and they’re in this other art by Veldenmire here. I assume they’ll cross paths with Eiji and Castel since they’re taking shelter in the lower city right now, and they’ll be caught in the middle while they’re both trying to outrun Giannis. Perhaps they’ll give us a small insight into the education system here in Concordia. The Reporter will obviously be showing us the journalistic world of Concordia. They painted a target on their back by pressing Asha with all those questions, so naturally one of the Elites is coming after them. Perhaps they’ll cross paths with Jamilah and Dave, covering their story, and then they’ll both have to dodge Butcher and Aofie (*sniff* this is not how they should be reunited waaaaaa). The Brawler I know nothing about, haha. I give them this name because they look like they’ve seen some action with their eyebrow scars (or could just be design who knowwwwws), and their expression looks joyfully poised for a fight. I wonder what the paint on their eyes is for. Maybe they’ll cross paths with Enzo and Bruno, and we’ll learn more about them. But I mean as much as I want out new protags to meet up with other storylines and previous protags, I know they still need to have their own stories, so I won’t put too much stock into that. Overall I’m quite excited they let us see them; letting me form these theories by just looking at their eyes is kinda cool.

Aaaaaand you’ve rEACHED THE END! THANK YOU FOR READING MY VERY LONG POST ABOUT VERY NICHE WEBTOON! SOMEONE’S GOTTA GIVE IT SOME LOVE, WITH HOW BEAUTIFULLY CRAFTED IT IS, AND IF THAT PERSON HAS TO BE ME, IT WILL BE. THE HUGEST THANKS TO 🩷💖VELDENMIRE💚💖 AND 💛💙PANELPERDAY❤️🖤 FOR ALL THEIR HARD WORK ON THIS WEBTOON, MAKING IT LIKE THE BEST SCI-FI COMIC ON THE PLATFORM, HANDS-DOWN!! I LOOK FORWARD TO EVERYTHING ELSE THIS GORGEOUS STORY HAS TO OFFER NEXT!!

#Solid State #Solid State Webtoon #Webtoon #Long Post #wow that was so much #I would've broke the image limit so I had to merge these photos all manually.. made a whole photo album #which was taxing #but so worth it like look at how pretty the post is come on #I wish I did wait to make my other post till this point but I didn't know we'd be hitting the midseason mark so soon so yeah #But even since my previous post so many more things have become apparent that I missed like the Union backplot I had no idea #And The Reporter being kinda everywhere #So another post was surely needed #AAAAAAny way Imma get out of here but thanks for reading all the way down here if you made it!

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dapurinthos · 4 months

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me: i am going to make problems for maul on purpose by attempting to speed-run his emancipation from sidious post-yinchorri invasion of the jedi temple but pre-naboo.

My eyes flick up, and then back down. “Sorry,” I say automatically, course-correcting to a path where I won’t bump into anyone else on the way to the ‘fresher. “I didn’t see you there.” I go to step around him and freeze, my brain catching up to what I actually saw in that millisecond. The man in the hallway wears black, enough to be shrouded like a corpse in it. His hands are encased in black gloves, and the hood sits on his head in a way that reveals the hidden vestigial horns beneath. Black tattoos paint his face in sharp shapes and lines, following the natural variations in his skin pigmentation. Zabrak, a voice in my mind says helpfully. Dathomiri Zabrak. A very specific Dathomiri Zabrak. My breath freezes in my throat as I look up and up and up. It’s not that Currently-Still-Darth Maul is especially tall—he’s about the same height as Kenobi—but he has a tall presence. A tall, dark presence. The air practically roils around him, seething with the heat and edge of his hate. The thickness of it should have been palpable from kilometres off. Why no one else has sensed it, I don’t know. I glance back over my shoulder at the main part of House of Leaves but I can’t feel anyone coming to investigate what could be causing this sudden surge of darkness. Maul stares down at me with a suppressed rage that puts the hair on the back of my neck up, eyes more golden than the sickly yellow of the Sith. There are red rings around his irises bleeding into the yellow and the white sclerae. For one of the very few of times in my life, I manage to hold eye contact, mesmerized by how his eyes glow beneath his hood. Even though the glow panels buzz and whine overhead with their cold and sharp light, everything is shadows. “Oh, motherkriffer,” I squeak, after I remember to breathe. This is how I’m going to die: Darth Maul, in the Monument Plaza boba tea shop, probably using some sort of twisted Sith weaponry that will make my death look like an accident so it doesn’t call down the attention a lightsaber wound would. Can’t have shit on Coruscant.

#keeping up with the skywalkers #the power of autism (and this lightsaber rifle)#accountability? ???#star wars fic writing #yes i named the boba tea place house of leaves because of the book. AND the pun.#i've placed it in monument plaza near the galactic museum #crèchemasters: yes we give the children sugar and caffeine AFTER we have left the museum so they maintain public decorum

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stormwindian · 1 year

Text

Memories: The Fire

There was something outside—A great, ethereal power—that offered itself. With it came brief impressions of a violent dragon; an image of raging fire, swelling within her control, and all she had to do was let it inside. As Alison stepped into the Lord of Ziculi’s manor, she didn’t hesitate.

Through a setting of perilous hellfire, as once richly plastered walls gave way to violent waves of insurrection, the golden haired mage took swift and sweeping strides to find the old library that the House of Ziculovich kept from its public.

She knew the section she was after and she had only finished stowing away its oldest tomes, saving them from a fate of wasteful ash, when she felt a hand nearing for the back of her neck.

It was Baron Dragos—The large man, heavier now not only by incorporeal sins but also a staining wash of blood, loomed with a monstrous gaze as he trained upon the trespassing heroine; he reached to take Alison by her throat, with gloved hands already greased sanguine.

“You,” he uttered with hate. “You did this… !” Yet—his grasp found no satisfying purchase.

What Alison internalized, was not mere sensation of power; it was resolve. Magical strength surged with an immensely burning might that could not be choked away for so long as she took her own breaths. Her will, unbridled, was fury and wrath.

Arcane magic flourished as near-wordless spellcraft bid for her escape; Her lips barely twitched, and she found herself placed to her assailant’s flank in the blink of an eye. She stood at the crumbling room’s entrance, ireful and rebuking.

“This?” was repeated in a leonine tone. Green eyes leveled a ferine stare at Dragos as he turned to meet them, and a fair hand lifted itself with further somatic threat. “This was already here … You—Walpurga—and everyone in-between; you let your own wife be nearly ripped to the streets by her hair.”

Alison’s voice begged him to be brave, hoping to break it whole. The lord, half-drunk by his rage, wouldn’t stand for the challenge.

“This started when we let you through the gates,” the turgid lord seethed with a bloody rapier raising up in threat—Eager to throttle the foreigner that now bore blame for ruining his hold on all of Ziculi. “You’re the Devil’s company! I’ll see you reformed, molded into model citizens!”

Dragos aggressed like a bull, only to be rebuked by more spellcraft.

A second teleport saw him him stumble without success, while at the same time affording little room for recovery. Only the audible click of Alison’s shoes upon a distant floorboard prefaced a bolt of magic flame being thrown at them in rebuff.

It flashed upon Dragos’ brows, brighter than the inferno that surrounded them, and it left him blind for a fleeting moment, but as he reeled—Alison sneered.

“Molded? Reformed?!” With the abhorring quote came a new gesture, unveiling that a hex had been laced into that prior attack; a ruthless charm, with vindictive malice, that had been learned by scrolls handed from the lord’s hated 'Devil.'

“Maybe you should REFORM YOURSELF!” Alison spoke, demanding while the School of Enchantment’s own ‘Infusion of Eloquence’ forced the foe to heel. It ripped a lordly howl from their lips that broke past the sounds of the crackling flames and the fighting that echoed from beyond those crumbling walls.

“You,” Alison nonetheless continued, “a boy who would beat his world into reprobate submission, are nothing but a FOOL who is too late to realize his own failures!”

Dragos let go of his rapier and, as it clattered upon the ground, brought both of his hands to the sides of his head, wracking the fingers against his temples like they might seize back any hold of his mind. It was agonizing—Painful antipathy, and it left his very core stricken while a face showed dismay

In the end, even in the sweltering heat of hell itself, he fell upon his knees.

“I- … I am a fool,” he then obliged. Alison stepped forward, repugnant.

The affirmation brought no satisfaction and the flagrant threat of reformation took nerve upon her core—and so she embodied all of the enmity of Dragos’ people, with their ruinous passions coalescing into a single flicker of judgment.

Alison took hold of her own sword, and started taking quicker strides.

She lifted the blade up, then closed the gap to tower over Dragos instead. Without crowd nor ceremony, she went to curtly execute the Lord of Ziculi.

“And every court fool hides behind a smile,” she despised. “So die with one.”

“All will be— ...”

#Malice of Vesnoira #Memories #RP Moment #Alison Clement #RP Character #Journal #196

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yorprincess · 1 year

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“i was so scared.” — from Anya!!

HARD-TO-FIND HURT / COMFORT SENTENCE STARTERS.

TO THE RESCUER: "I was so scared."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌹~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yor was going to have to have a very serious talk with Loid about the safety of his daughter when they got home. The little girl had a habit of running off at the oddest times and trouble either found her or she found trouble.

This time, though, it had happened right under Yor's nose.

They had gone to the park that afternoon with Bond under the pretense of both Anya and Bond getting some exercise and meeting some other dogs and their families. Developing relationships with others in the neighborhood would be a great idea and probably would help ease some of the idle talk about the Forgers that her husband was always worried about.

In hindsight, that concern seemed trivial.

There were several small families, kids, and some elder folks in the park, enjoying the nice autumn weather with their canine companions. Anya and Bond were both advised to stay where she could see them both before Yor sent them off to play. She smiled as she watched the two frolic in the grass, chasing and being chased by other dogs and kids, laughing, barking... being happy.

And watching Anya enjoy this peace filled her with contentment. A reminder that this is what she wanted for the girl, just like she had always wanted it for Yuri.

"HEY! STOP RIGHT THERE!" A commanding male voice yelled, drawing the attention of the adults nearby, Yor turned to look with them.

A trio of men in police uniforms was chasing after a fourth man who was sprinting ahead of them. At first glance, she couldn't tell why he was being chased, but considering the police were involved...it probably wasn't good. He was clutching a brown bag to his chest and pushing people out of his way rather than going around them.

Yor moved towards where she had last seen Anya and Bond...only the two weren't there!

Her ruby red eyes widened and searched the area... only to see Anya mounted on Bond like a fluffy horse and charging right for the alleged criminal. "ANYA!" She screamed.

But it was too late.

Whatever her daughter and dog were planning on doing to help... it must have backfired. The man dropped the bag, pulled out a gun, and grabbed the pink-haired girl from the hound, kicking him away, before turning to face the police officers. "One step more," He growled. "And I'll blow her head off."

Yor's heart stopped in her chest, her eyes zeroing in on her daughter and her terrified expression. The gun barrel was pressed a little too hard into her temple.

And she was whimpering.

"Mama!" The soft voice carried over the distance as if all other sounds but Anya's voice had suddenly been cut off.

Yor saw red.

Without her mind's consent, her body surged forward. She became a shadow, a living nightmare, the Thorn Princess out in the sunshine. She didn't carry her stilettos, but that was no matter. Her body was a weapon just as much as the golden thorns she wielded. Before anyone had a chance to react, she was beside the man, launching him away with an unrestrained strike to the side of his head.

"Don't you dare," She growled ferociously. "Touch my daughter!"

Her hands grabbed Anya and held her close, her red eyes turning to look around for any additional threat - be that another criminal or the police officers who stared in open jaw horror (or amazement in one of their cases, though Yor honestly wasn't sure about that).

All was silent for several seconds until Anya cried out again.

"AHHHHH! MAMA! I WAS SO SCARED!"

Everyone began to move after that.

Yor turned her gaze to the little girl, her expression easing from murderous to distressed and finally to comforting. She pressed the girl into her shoulder and rubbed her back. "It's alright, Anya. I'm here. Everything will be alright, you're safe."

The officer in the lead gestured for the two still slack-jawed to apprehend the suspect and there were murmurs all around as conversation started up again in the park. It was only then that Yor realized just what she had done... and how much it would probably impact the Forger name as a result.

"Ma'am," a voice greeted and she looked up to see the third officer before her. He tapped his hat at her and gave her a professional smile and she braced herself for some sort of reprimand.

After all, ordinary civilians didn't get involved in police pursuits.

Anya's fingers curled around the front of her mother's coat, her green eyes wide on the man's face.

"Thank you very much for your assistance in helping apprehend the suspect," he said instead, causing Yor's neck to audibly pop as it shot up to meet his gaze. "Not many people would have done what you did and without you, someone may have gotten hurt."

"I...Um... well..." She began, caught off guard and embarrassed.

"Captain!" One of the other officers' called, drawing the man's attention. "A little help, sir!"

The officer - Captain - let out a soft sigh before turning his attention momentarily towards his subordinates. "Coming!" He turned back to Yor and Anya. "Ma'am, miss. Listen to your mother, little one, and next time run away from the danger, not towards it." he tipped his hat once more after giving Anya a hard look and walked away.

There was a firmness in his voice that denoted authority and hopefully, Anya would heed it.

"We are going to have a serious conversation with your father when he gets home," Yor stated calmly. "You scared me as well. Please..." Her voice broke as she hugged the girl a little closer. "I don't know what I would do if you got hurt, Anya. Please don't run off like that anymore..."

#pompedia #IC - Barely Hiding Stains #Verse : Rose in Pink #((OH WHO COULD THIS BE!?#Surely not her husband right?!))#((Anya getting into trouble while helping her papa's missions #Then getting reprimanded for it. Poor girl can't get any praise for the hard work she does))#Long post #Answer the Call : Meme

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jayeray-hq · 3 years

Text

Bass Down Low

Hey everyone! Welcome to my part of the new NSFW Anilysium Server Collab! The theme for it this time is "Band/Tattoo/Badass"! Please check out some of the other amazing writers and artists in the collab by following the link!

If you like my writing for Terushima, check out my other stories in his character masterlist!

Tattooed Bass Guitar Player Terushima x Sassy Confident fem!reader

Tiny tiny bit of angst, but mostly fluff and smut

Warnings: NSFW 18+ minors dni! Grinding, dry humping, making out, slight exhibitionism, switch Terushima, switch reader, male nipple piercings, cock piercing, blowjobs, cunnilingus, overstimulation, vaginal sex, biting, scratching/pain kink

13K+ words

You could feel the bass as it thrummed through the air, making your whole body feel like it was vibrating. The energy was absolutely electric as you soaked in the music and the wild energy of the crowd as it pulsed and moved around you. Bodies were packed in fairly close and you could feel sweat dripping down your back, sticking to your neck and dewing at your temples.

Glancing over you saw your friend sandwiched between two good looking people clearly having the time of her life, lips locked with the person in front of her as they all ground together. You huffed in amusement, glad the two of you had already agreed you’d need to find your way home separately, otherwise you had the feeling you might’ve accidentally been left behind, that or you’d be the awkward third party to whatever was going on there.

Still despite how difficult leaving was going to be, and the sticky feeling of your clothes on your sweaty skin you didn’t regret coming for a minute. You’d been looking forward to coming to this music festival for ages and now that you were finally here you couldn’t get enough. Some of your favorite bands had played, and there were going to be even more in the coming days, you couldn’t wait.

You let yourself move with the music, swirling and rocking your hips, hands in the air as a bubble of laughter burst from your lips. You felt almost drunk on euphoria despite not touching a single drop of alcohol. You’d decided early on not to drink anything but water because you didn’t want to miss or forget a single moment of the experience.

A warm hand settled on your waist, pulling you out of your rhythm and you glanced back, to see someone standing behind you. It was full dark out, the only lights the ones coming from the stage, and a few overhead. However, despite the darkness you could make out an angular jaw, dark eyes and the golden color of his hair, along with the black ink creeping out of the neckline of his tank and up his throat, and spiraling down his shoulders and arms.

Just the sight of all that pretty ink was enough to make you feel incredibly attracted to the stranger, but the fact that he hadn’t come right up and started grinding on you without so much as a by-your-leave was definitely a bonus in your book, a courtesy you fully intended to reward as you rocked your ass back into the cradle of his hips, grinding yourself into him.

“I’ll take that to mean I can dance with you, sexy?” he half-asked, half-shouted in order to be heard over the music.

You didn’t bother to respond verbally, not wanting to shout to be heard, instead flashing him a smile, and grabbing hold of his other hand setting it easily on the curve of your waist. You noted with fascination and a pulse of liquid heat that he was wearing several rings on his fingers and had tattoos on his hands as well.

He was a surprisingly good dancer, his body moving fluidly with yours, hands resting solidly on your hips, just enough to flow without taking control of your movements. They never strayed from your hips either, remaining firmly in place as the two of you moved. You lifted your hands into the air and leaned back against his chest, finding a solid wall of lean muscle as you hooked one of your arms around his neck and curling your fingers through the surprisingly silky strands at the back of his head.

Your entire body felt hot, and when you turned to look at him, the intense look in his dark eyes sent a pulse of desire through you. You weren’t sure if it was the music, the adrenaline, or the heat of his hands on your hips, but you surged forward to press your mouth to his.

He met you eagerly, his mouth hot against yours, as you continued to grind back into him automatically. The hands on your hips pulled you closer removing any distance between the two of you, so that your ass was pressed right up against the cradle of his hips, and you could feel his solid length, hard against your rear.

You moaned into his mouth, incredibly turned on, as he took over the rhythm of your grinding, taking advantage of your open mouth to tease his tongue against your upper lip. You immediately jerked back in surprise, pulling yourself out of his grip so you could turn around.

It was hard to tell, but you thought your dance partner looked startled by your sudden departure, his hands raised as if to show he meant you no harm. You weren’t at all worried about that though, thoroughly distracted by what you’d thought you felt, You surged forward, guided by the press of the crowd and looped your arms around his neck.

Closer now you could see his eyebrows arched in surprise, a glint of wariness in his eyes that disappeared as your hand caressed his jaw, thumb gently pressing on his lower lip in question. He immediately flashed you a cocky smirk, and opened for you, sticking out his tongue and revealing the metal you’d felt against your lip.

“That’s so hot,” you told him, your lips pressed close to his ear so he could hear you.

“I know,” he shouted back with a smirk, before surging forward to reclaim your lips again.

You met him eagerly, immediately opening your mouth, eager to see what he could do with the enticing piece of jewelry through his tongue. He didn’t disappoint, tongue twining and rubbing against yours, the slick sensation of metal strange but not at all unpleasant as he teased it expertly over your tongue.

You hummed in delight as you twined your arms around his neck, fingers running through his hair as you pressed yourself tightly up against him, not even bothering with the music anymore, thoroughly distracted by the taste and feel of him against you.

His hands dipped lower, sliding into the back pockets of your jeans and when you didn’t protest he began to knead your ass, using his grip to hold you tight to his hips and press himself against your belly. You leaned against him, bracing more of your weight so you could lift one of your legs and wrap it around his hips, earning a groan of pleasure that you felt more than heard, the sound rumbling through his chest.

Your hands dipped lower, feeling the strong muscle of his back, and letting your head tip to the side, as he pressed open mouthed kisses along your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin as his lips found the column of your throat. Breathy sighs and gasps left your lips as you ground your hips against him, seeking friction for your aching cunt. You could feel how wet you were, and were suddenly grateful you’d worn shorts rather than a skirt otherwise you would’ve been dripping down your thighs.

You whined as he found the perfect spot on your neck, hands digging into his back as he nipped and sucked at it, teasing it with the smooth metal of his piercing as his hands guided your hips in just the right way to stimulate your clit, the seam of your shorts pressing into you deliciously with every movement of his hips.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and you were absolutely sure you could come just like this. Unfortunately right as you were about to reach your peak the roar of the crowd took an upswing, and you realized the band that had been playing was finished. You grimaced at having to stop, but figured you owed the band its due recognition. They’d been very good, and so you applauded and cheered along with the rest of the crowd.

The announcer told you there would be a quick fifteen-minute break before the next set, and you turned toward your dance partner, an offer to leave together and finish what you’d started on the tip of your tongue only to find the most horrified look on his face. Your heart dropped, wondering if you’d somehow done something wrong as his face swiveled between you and the stage.

You’d been about to back away, thinking you might as well use the crowd to escape the awkward situation you were in, when he surged forward to grip your hand.

“Come with me?” he half-asked, half-demanded, a determined light in his eyes that made you a bit nervous.

“Come with you where?” you asked, suddenly wary despite the fact that you’d been about to offer the same thing just seconds ago.

“I don’t really have time to explain,” he told you sheepishly, “But I swear you’re safe with me. Just trust me for a bit and I’ll show you exactly what this baby can do.”

He waggled his tongue at you for emphasis, brandishing his piercing, and you couldn’t help the snort of amusement that left you. You searched his face for a few seconds, but in the end decided, despite his slightly rougher appearance that there was an earnestness in his gaze that you felt could be trusted.

“All right,” you agreed, “But if you try anything funny I’ll kick your ass.”

“That’s hot,” he told you, a little wide-eyed and clearly lustful, not the reaction you were expecting, “I knew you were something special little miss sexy. Don’t worry, the only thing you might have to be afraid of is how any other man will measure up after you’ve had me.”

You huffed a laugh at that, amused despite yourself, and a little turned on by his confidence, as you agreed, “Well then, how could I say no to an offer like that? Lead the way then mister hot shot.

He flashed you a delighted grin that was more boyish and charming than you’d expected as he moved to do as he was told, keeping a strong grip on your hand as he expertly weaved his way through the crowd. You got a little worried when he started to lead you out and around, worried about the slowly thinning herd of people, which would mean a lack of witnesses if something went wrong.

However, he didn’t lead you out and away, instead pulling you towards a security guard who was chatting with a worried looking man with neat dark hair and glasses, whose eyes were darting around, clearly searching for something or someone.

His worried look faded away into relieved exasperation as he spotted the two of you, his eyes skimming over you briefly before turning all his attention to the man dragging you along by the hand, “Terushima! How many times do I have to tell you, you can’t just go wandering off right before the set starts!”

“Relax Anabara,” your guide, whose name was apparently Terushima, told the older man, far too casually for someone who was being lectured, “I got back in time didn’t I?”

“Barely,” Anabara hissed back, “you’re cutting it awfully close. Why do you need to go wandering off anyway?”

“Wanted to get a look at the stage and get a feel for the crowd,” he admitted with a shrug and a grin, “Energy’s way hot tonight, and I managed to run into someone interesting too.”

That immediately redirected both of their attention to you. You were still clutching Terushima’s hand, but were starting to feel like you shouldn’t be, as you finally put two and two together, your hold on him loosening slightly in response as you turned to him and blurted, “You’re in a band?!”

“You’re looking at Johzenji’s best bass player, and main song writer,” he told you smugly, a pleased smirk on his face.

You tried to find words, but couldn’t, utterly flabbergasted. You’d heard of Johzenji, an up and coming band who had a wild energetic sound, and you’d listened to and liked some of their music in preparation for the festival, but you hadn’t actually looked up the band members themselves.

“The rest of the band is waiting,” Anabara told him, clear impatience in his voice as he gestured for the blond to follow, “The rest are all warming up, you need to be out there too.”

“Yeah, yeah keep your hair on,” Terushima told him with a smirk before turning to you, “Come on, I’ll get you all settled backstage, it’ll be the best seat in the house I promise.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” you told him, grip loosening on his hand in preparation to let go, acutely aware of the disapproving gaze of Anabara, who you assumed was a manager of some sort, boring into the side of your head.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer,” you told him hurriedly, as the smirk slipped off his face leaving something disbelieving and a little hurt in its place, one that tugged your heartstrings, which was surprising considering you’d only known him for an hour or two at most, “But you need to get going. Good luck with the set I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

“W-wait!” he managed to catch your hand before you’d completely tugged free, his eyes, which in the light you could now see were a pretty cinnamon brown color, were pleading as he asked, “Please come back with me? I know I sprang this on you out of the blue, but I really felt a connection with you. After the set, we’ll clear things up, so just come watch me okay?”

The more rational part of you wanted to scoff. He was really laying it on thick, cheesy line after cheesy line. You’d found each other in a crowd, danced and made out for a bit, that was all. So maybe you’d felt a little something too, it was the reason you’d let him lead you away from the crowd, but that was just the music, the energy of the crowd right?

Your eyes flitted to where Anabara was standing, but Terushima apparently caught your intention and shifted his hand to block your view, the tattooed appendage coming up to push a strand of hair behind your ear, this thumb caressing your jaw, eyes boring into yours as he asked, “Please?”

Against your better judgement you found yourself nodding, almost hypnotized by the incredibly attractive man, whose every touch seemed to send tingles of electricity through your veins. The smile he offered you was another of those delighted boyish grins and you found yourself tugged along behind him again. To your surprise Anabara didn’t bother to protest, simply shaking his head, sighing and following along behind the two of you.

It was incredibly busy backstage as everyone hustled around in a kind of coordinated chaos as one band left the stage and Johzenji got ready to enter. True to his word Terushima found you a spot that would give you a good view of most of the stage, pressed a water bottle into your hands and a quick surprisingly sweet kiss to your lips before bounding off, though not before assuring you, wide smug grin back on his face, that you were in for the ride of your life.

You watched as he bounded over to people who had to be his bandmates, idly sipping at your water, and taking everything in. One of the guys immediately captured Terushima in a headlock, playfully wrestling around for a bit, the group tussling together, before a sharp word from a pretty girl holding a clipboard sent them all scurrying off to warm-up.

For someone so seemingly lighthearted, Terushima was surprisingly serious as he started to warm up, picking up his black bass guitar, the yellow and white tribal pattern on the body a clear imitation of the ink that bloomed over his fingers. His face was extremely concentrated as talented fingers plucked at the strings, dancing over the instrument with ease and familiarity. It was incredibly attractive, and you couldn’t help pressing your water to your neck, hoping it would help cool you down a bit and stop you from salivating.

You were slowly but surely acclimatizing to the fact that he was in a band, your shock wearing off and leaving the burning attraction you’d felt from the very first moment he’d put his hands on you in the crowd bubbling to the surface again.

“Impressive, isn’t he?” the words jolted you out of your enraptured staring at his fingers, and made you realize the pretty girl from before had come to stand next to you. She was still holding her clipboard, and her eyes weren’t on you, but on the band flitting between members, clearly checking in on them.

“I mean yes?” you said hesitantly, unsure why she’d decided to speak to you, and a little uncomfortable with the look on her face, which was set in a frown.

“So where’d he pick you up?” she asked sharply, clear disapproval in her eyes as she turned toward you, “The parking lot? Hanging around the trailers? Get caught sneaking back stage? Let me tell you something groupie, you’re not going to get anything else from Terushima or from Johzenji, so enjoy the show or whatever, but make sure you get lost after.”

“What?” you asked, baffled, but unwilling to allow yourself to be cowed in the face of her tirade as you snapped back, “As a matter of fact I was out in the audience minding my own business. I didn’t even know who Johzenji was before I got tickets to this music festival! I didn’t know who Terushima was until Anabara said something, he was the one who came up to dance with me not the other way around, so I suggest you back up with your assumptions.”

The girl looked surprised, brown eyes wide in her pretty face as you huffed out an annoyed sigh, your displeasure overtaking your more base urges once again as you questioned whether you should be there. A quick glance at Terushima showed he was still entirely focused on his warm-up, he didn’t look like he’d notice anything let alone you.

You didn’t belong here, and both Anabara and whoever this girl was had made it pretty clear you weren’t welcome either. It didn’t help that her words implied that Terushima brought girls back pretty often, so much for ‘feeling a connection’ it really had been the line it sounded like. You couldn’t help the slight bitterness of your thoughts as you wondered how many women he’d used it on before and feeling a bit stupid for falling for it.

If it looked like a duck, walked like a duck, and quacked like a duck, odds were it was a duck. Terushima looked like a stereotypical bad boy with an overinflated ego, swaggered like one, and even laid down stupid, misleading lines like one. While you’d technically only hoped to get a good lay out of this and nothing more, you did have standards.

That in mind you decided, no matter how good the music was or how exciting it had initially been to be back stage, it wasn’t worth it. Spinning on your heel you began to walk away, fully intent on writing it off as a bad night, and feeling more than a little bitter about how running into Terushima had decidedly ruined your night and your enjoyment of the festival.

“Where are you going?” the question was voiced by a familiar male voice, Anabara had apparently come up beside you some time while you were lost in your own head, making quiet plans to never support Johzenji ever again, “Surely Terushima told you not to wander around back here?”

“I’m leaving,” you informed him flatly, utterly fed up, “I wasn’t entirely comfortable coming back here in the first place, and now I’m even more uncomfortable, so if you could point me to the exit I’d appreciate it. Hell, you can even have security escort me to make sure I don’t do anything weird since you’re all apparently so paranoid about it, but I would very much like to never see you or anyone else involved with Johzenji ever again please and thank you.”

Anabara’s eyebrows, which had been settled in a disapproving frown, immediately flew upwards in shock, seemingly rendered speechless, though you weren’t sure if that was for your words or the rude tone you’d used. A part of you felt bad for it, but you were at the end of your rope, one make-out session and the promise of a night of good sex wasn’t worth all this drama no matter how talented he was with his tongue or the backstage pass he’d gotten you.

“You can’t leave,” the girl blurted out, hurriedly maneuvering in front of you and holding her arms out to seemingly block your path, “You have no idea what that will do to Terushima if he looks over and you’re not here! It’ll throw his entire performance off!”

“Weren’t you the one who just called me a groupie and implied I was some kind of whore he picked up in the parking lot?” you asked sarcastically, “Forgive me if I don’t give a shit.”

“Really Hana?” Anabara asked heaving a pained sigh at the girl, whose name was apparently Hana, “I understand not approving of Terushima’s habits, but this was neither the time nor the place, and she shouldn’t have been the one you brought it up to. It’s not her fault.”

You relaxed a bit at that, surprised but pleased, some of your anger seeping away. A lot of times women got blamed for men’s promiscuous behavior, when the man was the one to blame. You were glad to see it wasn’t actually like that here.

“You’re right,” Hana agreed, with a pained grimace before turning to you, “I apologize, I was rude. The last few women Terushima brought back either stole things, or decided to act crazy and possessive both with Terushima and with other band members. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s alright,” you assured her, even as your opinion of Terushima plummeted even further. If he had that kind of history no wonder she’d been so upset and on guard when she saw you. You would’ve been angry too if you had to deal with that, your anger with her leeching away, “Sounds like you’ve been through a lot.”

“You have no idea,” she told you fervently, heaving a sigh before pleading, “Please, will you stay? It really will throw Terushima off if you’re not here, and while he might deserve that, the some of the other band members don’t, and the audience certainly doesn’t.”

You grimaced, a little unsure. While you didn’t feel nearly as angry or bitter as before you also still had standards. If you stayed it would imply you wanted to have sex with him, which at this point was pretty much off the table.

“If it helps, Terushima may be a player with terrible taste in women, but he won’t pressure you if you say no after,” Hana assured you, apparently reading your mind.

Thinking about it, and the respectful way he’d danced with you, and kissed you always courteous you found you agreed with what she said, and before you knew it found yourself agreeing to stay, much to Hana and Anabara’s visible relief.

Hana quickly guided you back to your spot, and much friendlier now, began to explain some of the things that were going on as the band got set up. She also named the members for you as she realized you’d told the truth and didn’t actually know who any of them were. You found yourself liking the kind, if stern girl a lot, and the way she was clearly a huge fan, both of the band and the music they made, had you hyped up right along with her, ready to see what they could do.

The energy between her and the crowd which were starting to slowly become more and more hyped up as it became clear the band was going to start, was absolutely electric, and you could feel yourself getting hyped up again.

Terushima, who’d seemed to be in his own little world the moment he’d picked up his instrument, finally glanced up as the lead singer, who you suspected was Hana’s boyfriend from the way she’d gushed about him earlier, tapped him on the shoulder clearly asking if he was ready.

Even from the distance you were at you could see the cockiness in Terushima’s smirk as someone plugged him into the amplifier. His fingers immediately moved over the strings, playing a dizzying array of notes and cords in quick succession, the sound loud enough to feel in your bones earning an immediate roar of approval from the audience, which somehow sounded even louder from the stage than it had been when you were standing with them.

Terushima gave the audience a tongue lolling grin flashing his piercing to them, his eyes cutting over to where you were standing with Hana. You raised an eyebrow at him finding yourself drawn in, in spite of yourself giving him a challenging smirk of your own and a ‘bring it on’ gesture clearly inviting him to give you this so called ‘ride of your life’ that he’d promised your before. He looked shocked for a second before a wide grin crossed his face, clearly accepting your challenge.

You watched a little enthralled, the way good music always made you feel as they started to play their set, your hips beginning to rock automatically to the sound of the bass. Up close you could see why Johzenji was shooting to the top, it was clear they were all talented and passionate about their music throwing themselves into it with everything they had.

However, despite wanting to look at the others your eyes seemed almost magnetized to Terushima, drawn back to him each and every time no matter what. It was clear he was having the time of his life, jumping all around the stage, flashing that pierced tongue, his dexterous fingers working over the strings of his instrument in a way that was utterly enthralling as a part of you wondered if his skill with his fingers might translate over to something a little more carnal.

It didn’t help that he kept glancing over at you, his gaze clearly a challenge daring you to try to look away from him. There was something hot and heavy in his eyes, something that told you the answer to your question was yes, and that he couldn’t wait to show you.

You could feel yourself getting almost unbearably hot in a way that had nothing to do with the heat of the lights bleeding off the stage, or the summer night air, your body seemingly pulsing in time to the music and the notes of his bass guitar. The air practically electric, your skin hypersensitive as if you could feel the waves of sound on your skin.

You hadn’t realized their set was long enough that they were doing a fifteen minute intermission of sorts where band members would chat one by one with the audience, talking about their music and answering a few fan questions they’d gotten on their Tweeter account.

Thus you were entirely unprepared when Terushima set down his instrument and came bounding off stage. You barely had time to blink before he was on you, strong hands finding your hips, slipping into the back pockets of your jean shorts to grope your ass as he pulled you close.

His lips were on yours before you’d really had time to process, and you found yourself returning his kiss enthusiastically, unable to resist his magnetism and the electric feeling of his hands on you and his lips on yours. One of your hands tangled with his hair and you tugged it, not caring a bit about the sweat slicked strands, well aware you were equally sweaty, too enraptured by the heat between the two of you to care about a little sweat.

It was only when a loud cough broke through your lustful haze that you remembered that you weren’t supposed to be kissing Terushima at all. You quickly pulled away, kicking yourself, both for your loss of composure and for making a scene in front of all his bandmates outside the lead singer, who was the only one on stage at the moment, and Hana who was watching the two of you with raised eyebrows.

“So you’re the girl huh?” one of his bandmates asked, eying you with interest.

“Yes, she’s female,” Hana cut in, to your relief, “And you can gawk later, you have less than ten minutes to get yourselves refreshed so you can take over and Okudake can have his well-deserved break too.”

Terushima groaned, and while Hana’s stern look sent the others scrambling to obey, he was clearly more resistant as he refused to let go, clinging on to you in a way that almost would’ve been cute if you hadn’t cottoned on to what a womanizer he was.

“Well?” Hana demanded, hands on hips, “You heard me Terushima, get a move on.”

“Go on,” you urged, moving to extract yourself from his hold.

“No way!” he protested, turning betrayed eyes on you, his grip firming for just a minute before reluctantly starting to loosen, “You haven’t even told me how amazing I am yet.”

“I guess you’re not bad,” you told him with a casual shrug, unable to resist teasing even as the more rational part of you was screaming about how this was a terrible idea, and that you had no plans of having any sort of relationship with him sexual or not, so shouldn’t be flirting with him.

“Not bad?” He squawked, clearly outraged, “I’ll show you not bad little miss sexy, I told you I’m gonna rock your entire world.”

“You’re not going to be rocking anything if you collapse from dehydration hot stuff,” you informed him dryly, shoving at his chest until he let go, though he was clearly pouting about it, “Go. Water, snacks, refresh, move it.”

“You’re as cruel as Hana,” Terushima told you, sulkily, before plastering on another cocky smirk as he acquiesced, “But fine, I’ll do what you say, so long as you promise not to take your eyes off me for the second half of the set.”

“Sure, sure,” you agreed with a casual eye roll, unable to keep amusement from bleeding into your voice as you ushered him away. He went, though not without one last toe curling kiss and a quick grope of your ass.

“You’re really good with him,” Hana’s speculative voice distracted you from watching Terushima walk away, and you felt heat in your cheeks as you realized she’d caught you gawking at him.

“I uh….” You floundered, trying to find the words to defend yourself, especially when you’d been so adamant before about not having sex with Terushima.

“It’s okay you know,” she assured you, a strange look on her face that you couldn’t quite decipher, “You wouldn’t be the first to get swept up in his charisma, and no one could blame you for having a casual fling. I certainly can’t judge given my own relationship.”

She had a point. It was your body after all and one night couldn’t hurt, especially with the chemistry between the two of you, still you did have some concerns.

“He’s clean if you were wondering,” Hana informed you casually, apparently fully able to read your mind despite only knowing you for an hour or two at most, “Terushima’s always been a player, but he’s also always been meticulous about his health, and the reputation of the band. He may act like an irresponsible idiot when it comes to women, but the band means a lot to him.”

“He does seem really passionate about it,” you acknowledged, refusing to think about the heat in your cheeks or the way your eyes kept coming back to Terushima as he hurriedly gulped down his drink and horsed around a bit with the drummer before charging back out on stage to interact with the audience.

“The band means everything to all of them,” Hana told you, with a fond smile for Okudake who only paused for a moment to kiss her cheek before heading for refreshments, confirming your suspicions about their relationship, “It’s their dream.”

“I can see that,” you mused thoughtfully, watching as Terushima practically bounced around the stage like a child on a sugar high, hyping up the audience like none other.

“I think maybe I might’ve given you the wrong impression earlier,” she admitted, the words making you pull your attention away from Terushima and focus solely on her, “Terushima isn’t actually a bad guy, he’s just terrible when it comes to women he likes. Despite how he looks he can be an absolute sweetheart.”

“You know you’re going to confuse me with all this changing around you keep doing,” you teased lightly, “Before I thought you would rather I burn at the stake rather than have sex with Terushima and now it almost sounds like you’re encouraging me to go for it.”

“I didn’t know you earlier,” Hana dismissed, a flush in her cheeks, clearly a bit uncomfortable with your observation even as she tacked on, more to herself than to you, “And I’ve never seen him interact like that with a woman before.”

You didn’t get the chance to question her about it, or really process what she’d said as the band took that minute to start the music back up, and the audience gave a lively roar. Terushima gave you an almost too conspicuous wink and a cocky smirk before turning back to what he did best, tattooed fingers flying over the strings again.

Once more you got caught up in the beat, the rhythm of his bass as it hummed through your body, and the heated looks he threw your way whenever he got a spare second, clearly checking to make sure he had all of your attention. You lost yourself in it, you were here to enjoy the music, and like hell were you going to let anything, even your preoccupation with the sexy bass player, get in the way of that.

It seemed like the whole thing ended far too soon, as the last chords faded into the night, the roar of the crowd as the band gave their goodbyes almost deafening in conjunction with the fireworks going off overhead. The minute the lights were down, the band members quickly passed off their instruments as staff, including Hana, swarmed the stage, ready to begin tear down for the evening.

Johzenji had been the last band scheduled for the night, which meant everyone would be going home. The buzzing of your phone reminded you of your friend and a quick glance confirmed your earlier suspicions, that she was going home with one or both of her earlier dance partners. You sent a quick text back urging her to be safe, and hesitated for a long moment before finally telling her that you had your own hook-up for the night.

She congratulated you, and you grinned, amused and fond, sliding your phone back into your pocket and just in time as Terushima’s hands snagged you around the waist, pulling you close again. There was a delighted smile on his face, open and boyish that told you how incredibly pleased he was with himself and his performance, and looking at it you knew in that moment you’d lost the internal debate. No way were you going to be able to walk away, not when he was looking at you like that.

You could vaguely hear his bandmates wolf whistling at the two of you as you pulled him down to kiss, tangling your fingers in his sweaty hair, but ignored them entirely, too intent on the humming electricity between the two of you and his hot wet mouth, the feel of his piercing a sensation you were coming to adore as you flicked it with your tongue.

His hands were all over you, roaming your back and occasionally dipping lower to knead your ass, his firm chest pressed tightly against your own. You could feel his hard length, fully aroused and clearly more than ready for you, pressed firmly into you, the idea of it making your body clench with need, wetness soaking your panties.

“Oy, get a room,” Hana’s voice cut in, clear exasperation in every word, catching your attention as the two of you parted for breath, “No one wants to see that!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Terushima told her casually, rolling his eyes a bit, though you shot her a sheepish look, earning an amused one in return, before being thoroughly distracted again by the sexy blond bass player as he released you just enough so that he could snag your hand, and you found yourself tugged along behind him for the second time that night as he told you, “Come on little miss sexy, let’s see if I can’t give you that ride I promised you.”

“Lead on then hot shot,” you told him with a laugh, only pausing to shoot a quick wave at Hana, who just shook her head in clear exasperation, though you thought there was something of a smile on her lips too.

This time you weren’t nearly so worried about following him, and weren’t too concerned when he led you back and away to a parking lot that was full of trailers with few if any people. Even without knowing him for too long you could tell which was his at a glance, considering the outside was covered in stylized graffiti that read Johzenji surrounded by tribal work.

It didn’t take him long to fumble the door open and lead you inside, and you were relieved to find that the interior was apparently nice enough for air conditioning. It wasn’t much, a queen sized bed, bathroom, and a couch with recording equipment and various instruments scattered everywhere, but it was better than you’d been expecting. Honestly you thought he might’ve shared space with the other members of his band, and were pleased to find it wasn’t true, mostly because you’d hate the idea of kicking someone out just so you could get laid.

You didn’t get much more time to think about it as you were immediately distracted by Terushima, who’d attached his mouth to your neck the second the door had been closed and locked behind the two of you, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive column of your throat. You let out a low moan as he nipped at your collarbone, fingers twisted in the fabric of his black tank, digging into the strong muscle of his back and shoulders.

A gasping moan escaped your lips as he sucked at your collarbone, his hot mouth like a brand against your skin in the almost too cool trailer. You slid your hands down his back, eager to get your hands on his skin, and to see more of the ink that adorned his body, slipping your hands under his tank and tugging upwards.

Terushima seemed to get the hint, giving you a smug look as he pulled away just enough for you to tug the damp fabric up and over his head. His torso was nicely toned, lean but firm with muscle, and adorned in black ink that crept downwards from his neck, covering his upper chest and shoulders, though you noted his abs were bare.

Your fingers automatically moved to touch, tracing the lines down from his neck, and over his shoulders, utterly fascinated. It was beautiful work, a mix of tribal and Japanese style work. He shivered slightly, though whether that was from your touch or from the cool air on his warm skin you couldn’t tell.

You probably could’ve spent hours exploring his tattoos, and would’ve except you got distracted by the glint of metal. Bright silver barbells glinted in each of his dusky colored nipples, catching all your attention, and sending a jolt of heat through you as you wondered if he had anything else pierced.

“Like what you see?” Terushima asked, his voice full of smug superiority as he brushed a teasing hand down his chest, a cocky smirk on his face.

A part of you really wanted to wipe that look off his face, and you thought you might know just how to do it. You hooked your fingers through the belt loops of Terushima’s jeans and tugged him forward by them, earning a delighted chuckle from the man before you reclaimed his mouth.

Your hands immediately went to his abdomen, gently scraping your nails over the ridges of his abs and earning a full body shudder from the man, who’d buried one of his talented hands in your hair, the other caressing your side.

The feel of muscle under your fingers as you skimmed your palms up his chest, letting his pebbled nipples catch on the webbing between your fingers, teasing the nubs gently between your fingers earning a low needy moan from Terushima, his hips thrusting into yours, reminding you how utterly hard he was and sending a burst of heat through you.

You pulled your lips away from his, earning a discontent whine from the man until he felt your lips on his throat. He tilted his head with a low groan, allowing you full access without protest, as you traced your lips over his tattoos. His skin tasted like salt from the sweat, but it wasn’t unpleasant, as he smelled clean beneath it, something warm and masculine that made your passage clench with want, and need.

Your hands roamed down his sides, and over his back, unable to keep yourself from touching him as you sucked and nipped at the junction of his neck, adoring the quiet moans and breathy gasps from his lips. His hand in your hair was gentle, not guiding or pushing simply allowing you to do as you pleased with him even as his fingers gently tugged, his grip occasionally tightening in a way you found extremely arousing whenever you nipped at him or found a particularly sensitive spot. You continued your exploration downward tracing a path down to his collarbone then lower across his pectorals and finally to your goal.

“Aw fuck,” Terushima whined as you pulled his pebbled nipple into your mouth sucking at the sensitive nub, swirling your tongue around it and playing with the metal piercing as your other hand found his other nipple, fingers toying with the matching barbell, unable to keep your hands away from it.

“Hng! You like those little miss sexy?” he teased, though he was breathless enough that it barely constituted teasing, “I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off me, should’ve known from the way you acted when you got my tongue piercing, but if you like that wait until you see my…”

He cut himself off with a whine as you teased him with your teeth, gently scraping them over the sensitive nub and tugging at it carefully as your other hand gently flicked and tugged at his piercing. You were a bit curious about what he’d been about to say, though you had a sneaking suspicion you’d find out when you got him completely naked.

Curious, you decided to stop playing with his piercings for now and began to kiss your way down his chest, bracing your hands on his sides so you could slowly lower yourself, tracing your thumbs over the sharp v of his hipbones as you traced his treasure trail to where his pants were sitting low on his hips.

You carefully scraped your teeth over the taught skin, kissing and suckling hard, well aware you were going to leave marks and not caring in the slightest that unlike the ones you’d undoubtedly left on his neck and chest, these were going to be much more visible due to his lack of tattoos there.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ sexy,” Terushima praised with a shudder as he stared down at you, pupils blown wide and lust written all over his face, a loud groan leaving his lips as you cupped his erection through his pants, teasingly stroking it through the material as you looked up at him, unable to help the smirk curling your lips at the sight of him, his lips puffy and swollen from kisses, hair damp and sticking to his forehead and beautiful inked skin glistening with perspiration.

Looking at him, you could see how he coaxed so many women into his bed, between his looks and his musical ability it was no wonder he was so cocky. Still despite how many people he’d been with before he was with you at the moment and you were going to make the most of it.

Your fingers deftly undid the button and zipper of his pants and you turned to look up at Terushima amused and a little shocked as you asked, “You go commando on stage?”

“What can I say,” he told you with a proud smirk, “I’m a rebel.”

You huffed out an amused laugh and ran a teasing finger up his shaft, gently stroking the underside his twitching cock which had left precum smeared inside his pants and his lower abdomen. Just as you’d suspected there were piercings here as well, a Jacob’s ladder of three separate barbells, right under the head.

The sight left your mouth watering, and you licked your lips, fully intent on blowing his mind, and playing with those lovely piercings, but when you went to lean forward you were stopped by the grip he still had on your hair.

“Something the matter?” you asked, genuinely concerned as your hands stroked at his strongly muscled thighs, the gesture meant to be soothing as you peered up at him and asked, “Do you not want me to suck your cock hot shot?”

“There is nothing more that I want right now than to have that sexy mouth of yours all over me,” he told you, the low rasp of his voice and his lust darkened gaze utterly convincing, “But I said I was going to give you the ride of your life little miss sexy and I intend to follow through on it.”

“Oh?” you asked teasingly, thumbs tracing over the sensitive place where his thighs met his hips, “You think you can?”

“You have no idea what you’re in for,” he told you with a cocky smirk, one that fell away into a full body shudder as you leaned forward, grasping his leaking cock at the base and running your tongue teasingly along the underside.

“I think you’re the one who doesn’t know what they’re in for,” you told him, with a smirk of your own as you stroked your hand upward and used your thumb to tease the sensitive place where the barbells passed through the skin right under the head earning a low moan.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, as he recovered, a grin on his face that was boyish and reckless, “But I won’t know until I try.”

Amused and intrigued you let him go and allowed him to pull you to your feet and reclaim your mouth with his, reminding you just how skilled he was with his tongue as he kicked off his pants, shoes and socks and began to talk you slowly backwards towards the bed. He proved to be either extremely coordinated or practiced or both as he managed to coax you out of almost all of your clothes except your soaked panties by the time the back of your knees hit the bed.

You let yourself fall backwards, plopping on to the surprisingly comfortable mattress, and smiling into Terushima’s kiss unable to pull yourself away, thoroughly distracted by his talented mouth and the warm hands that were skimming up and down your sides, thumbs occasionally teasingly skimming the undersides of your breasts.

You held him to you, his face cradled in your hands as he crouched over you, one knee braced on the bed, and the other still planted on the floor as his hands dipped lower, finding the waistband of your panties, and teasing his fingers along the edge.

“What are you waiting for,” you teased between kisses, “A written invitation?”

“Only your permission little miss sexy,” he teased right back with a smug grin, hooking his fingers through the elastic and giving a gentle tug.

Something about his tattooed fingers in contrast with the pretty lace panties you’d decided to wear was extremely hot and sent a surge of lust through you, as you lifted your hips and watched as he peeled the sodden lace away from your soaked core.

As they fell away his hands came back up to your thighs, and you couldn’t look away from the contrast of his darkly inked hands, adorned with several silver rings glinting against your smooth thighs.

You didn’t protest as he gently pushed them open, revealing how utterly soaked you were, instead leaning back on your elbows and spreading them further to give him a better view.

“Fuck,” he hissed eyes riveted on your most intimate parts as if he was unable to look away, his pierced tongue darting out to wet his lips, and his eyes dark with desire, “You’re so fucking sexy.”

“You’re not so bad yourself hot shot,” you countered even as his words and the hungry look on his face sent a surge of heat through you.

“I’m gonna eat you out so good you’re going to be screaming my name,” he promised, his thumbs caressing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he started to drop to his knees.

“Ah-ah,” you scolded, pulling yourself away, scooting backwards on the bed and away from him.

“You don’t want it?” he asked, looking a cross between shocked and a toddler who’d been denied his favorite treat.

“The only way you get your face between these thighs is if I get that lovely pierced cock in my mouth,” you informed him challengingly, holding out your hand to him in a clear gesture to come join you on the bed.

His face immediately lit up, a wicked grin on his face as he agreed, “Sounds like a fair deal to me sexy lady.”

It took him less than a second to join you on the bed, and he agreeably laid back for you, hands folded behind his head, body on clear display without an inch of shame, the smirk on his face telling you he was well aware how hot he looked spread out like that, all pale skin, dark ink, and silver piercings, he practically oozed bad boy sex appeal.

“Got your seat all ready for you,” he goaded, tapping his lips and wiggling that pierced tongue at you enticingly.

You laughed in helpless amusement, earning a tongue lolling grin in turn from the sexy bass player, who was clearly unbothered and supremely confident in a way you couldn’t help but find incredibly attractive.

He coaxed you up , letting you straddle his face, his head propped up on the pillows to make things easier, his face pressed into your thigh, nipping and suckling at the sensitive skin as you got yourself settled and being thoroughly distracting, though not for long as you wrapped a hand around the base of his weeping cock, the head drooling precum.

He let out a muffled groan as you slowly began to stroke him, licking your hand to help ease your passage as you stroked him, soothing your thumb over the place where the barbells passed through his skin with ever stroke and teasing your fingers along the head, massaging the weeping slit teasingly with your index finger.

Terushima didn’t let you completely take control though, and the first swipe of his tongue made you jolt in surprise, the feel of that little piercing completely foreign as the smooth ball dragged across your sodden folds. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before, and you had the strangest feeling he might actually fulfill his promise of giving you the ride of a lifetime, as he dove in eagerly.

He lapped and sucked at the lips of your cunt, the slurping noises he was making utterly obscene as he held your hips firmly in place, keeping you still as he ate you out with enthusiasm and a skill you had to admit he was right to be proud of. Every stroke of his tongue lit your nerves on fire as he teased it around your clit, lightly flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves and varying up his strokes and the pressure with every swipe, enough to make your thighs tremble and to make you grateful you weren’t attempting to stand or you were sure your knees would’ve given out.

You weren’t about to let him take over entirely though, instead lowering your mouth to his cock and beginning to tease the weeping slit with your tongue as you continued to stroke him, flicking each of the barbell heads in turn and sucking at the sensitive ridge around the head.

The low moan he let out as you popped the head into your mouth and began to suck sent immediate vibrations to your drenched pussy, making you moan in turn, the feeling of it indescribable as he lapped at your folds sucking at the sensitive lips and thrusting his tongue into your weeping hole.

The feel of his piercings grazing against the roof of your mouth was a new one, but not unpleasant as you took as much of him into your mouth as you could, stroking what you couldn’t reach with one hand the other tracing light teasing circles with your thumb on his inner thigh.

Skilled fingers parted your lower lips as his tongue teased your clit, slipping one finger then two into your hole, making your walls flutter and clench around the intrusion. You moaned as he proved to be just as skilled with his fingers as you’d wondered earlier when you saw him playing his instrument, playing you just as skillfully with the perfect pressure, and movement to hit just right as he crooked his fingers into the soft tissue at the front of your passage that instantly had you seeing stars your whole body convulsing in his hold.

You completely lost track of what you were meant to be doing as you keened, his fingers refusing to let up as he continued to tease them in and out of your rippling passage, his tongue equally relentless. You weren’t sure if you were squirming to move towards him or further away as he carefully eased you back from your orgasm, though not letting you go completely, keeping you right on the edge of pleasure, your body hot and aching in his hold.

Once you managed to come back to your senses you could practically feel the smugness radiating off him as he continued to tease, startlingly considerate of your oversensitive clit, just enough stimulation to keep you worked up without being to painful.

You weren’t about to let him be too smug, instead turning back to what you were doing before, working him over, allowing your saliva to drool down over his cock to make the passage of your hand easier as you stroked him at the base.

Your other hand left his thigh and instead went to his balls, cupping and weighing the sensitive sack in your hand, gently massaging it earning an almost pained groan from Terushima, whose thighs you could see were clenched tightly, his muscles rippling under your torso as his body tightened in pleasure, his balls drawing upward in your hand letting you know how close he was getting.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, sexy I…!” he tried to interject, clearly attempting to warn you, surprisingly courteous as ever. He didn’t get a chance to finish though as you released his balls and slipped your hand lower, teasing your fingers lightly over his perineum as you sucked hard at his sensitive head, your thumb pressed firmly to his piercings in a move that made him keen with pleasure, his body practically arching off the bed as he came in your mouth.

You quickly swallowed every bit you could as you milked his cock rubbing and massaging at the glans as he continued to come, until you felt the last tiny spurt against your tongue, and the keening sounds he was making reduced to trembling whimpers.

You released him and wriggled away from his weakened grip so you could look at him, swiping some of the cum that had leaked from the corners of your mouth away with your thumb, and earning a low moan from Terushima, who watched with heavy lidded eyes as you licked it off.

“Fuck, you’re really asking for it little miss sexy,” he told you, his voice pitched low as he sat up, wiping his own glistening cheeks and chin, which were covered with your release on the back of his arm.

“Asking for what hot stuff?” you teased with a pleased smirk, one that was wiped off your face as he coiled and sprung, gently knocking into you so you pitched backwards on to the bed, his hands pinning your wrists on either side of your head as he peered down at you, his eyes burning with desire.

“Asking for me to make you scream my name,” he assured you with a smirk, “To fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“You think you can Terushima?” you goaded, completely unphased at being pinned beneath him.

“Yuuji,” he informed you seriously nuzzling his face into your neck in a gesture that was surprisingly affectionate, though the wicked grin you could feel against your skin most certainly wasn’t as he clarified, “Call me Yuuji, little miss sexy, it’s only right for you to scream my first name.”

“Give me all you’ve got then hot stuff,” you challenged, earning a delighted smirk from the man, who pulled back to give you another searing kiss, clearly uncaring about the taste of himself in your mouth or sharing your own release with you.

Given how often he seemingly brought women home you weren’t at all surprised that he had a huge stash of condoms in the drawer of the nightstand of the bed, in all different textures and some in different flavors that made you highly amused. Though you didn’t stay that way for long as he expertly slid the condom on and approached, gently tugging you toward him and pulling one of your legs over his shoulder as he teased the head of his cock over your dripping entrance.

The feel of him as he entered you had your head lolling backwards, the angle he’d chosen ensuring he went deep, the feel of his piercings, that you could feel even through the condom, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before.

“Like that?” he teased as he seated himself deep inside you, his voice breathless but still teasing as he demanded, “Like the feel of my cock inside you sexy? You’re so fucking tight I can feel you squeezing me.”

“Fuck me, hot shot,” you ordered clenching around him deliberately, impatient after all his teasing, wanting to feel him move inside you, to know how his piercings would feel as they rubbed against your inner walls, as he fucked you.

“You asked for it,” he warned you, as he gave a sharp thrust of his hips, pulling a moan from your lips.

He didn’t bother to let you adjust more than that, drilling into you, setting a hard, fast past that left you gasping for breath, his cock stretching you deliciously, every movement rubbing his piercings along your insides. His tattooed fingers dug into your thigh as he held your leg over his shoulder.

“Feel so good, squeezing around me like that, you’re so fucking tight around my cock and so wet for me,” he praised, panting for breath as his dark gaze practically drilled into you, as he ground his hips into you, letting you feel every inch of him.

You hummed in agreement, your other leg wrapping around his hips, pulling him in close as your hips moved in time with his as you panted, your hands twisted in the comforter beside your head, unable to tear your eyes away from him, the ripple of muscle underneath his inked tattoos and the drops of sweat as they dripped down his neck and chest were utterly mesmerizing.

“Fuck me,” you gasped, “Fuck me!”

He paused in his movements slowly grinding himself into you making an inadvertent whine slip from your lips as he scolded, “I told you to call me Yuuji, let me hear you say my name.”

You might’ve chosen to deny him, but he’d dipped his other hand down, skilled fingers gently teasing your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you that had your walls fluttering around the hard cock buried to the hilt inside you. Pride warred with pleasure as your pussy ached, desperately wanting him to move again, to give you more of the heady friction and the feel of him moving deep inside you.

“Yuuji,” you relented your voice husky with desire and want, though you weren’t about to give in entirely, instead stretching your hand out for him and ordering, “Come here, Yuuji, kiss me.”

He immediately relented, leaning forward, taking your leg with him, your thigh pressed to your chest, his hips beginning to drive into you again so deep it took your breath away as he braced an elbow beside your head, the other cupping your face and holding you still so he could press his mouth to yours.

You moaned into his mouth wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you clung to him, savoring the feel of his hot skin beneath your hands as your fingers dug into the muscle of his back.

“Ah fuck,” Terushima hissed as he pulled away from your mouth, arching into your hands, his hips jolting hard as you dug your nails into his back. You would’ve felt sorry about it, but the look in his eyes told you clearly that he’d enjoyed the little bit of pain, his hips stuttering as you carefully raked them downwards.

“Do you like that Yuuji?” you purred into his ear, nipping at his jaw.

“Not as much as you like this,” he countered, utterly breathless as he thrust into you hard, the feel of it making you mewl in pleasure, “Like it rough, don’t you little miss sexy?”

“Just as much as you,” you managed to retort, utterly breathless, earning a huffed laugh from him, as he leaned forward to catch your lips in another sloppy kiss.

The lewd sound of your hips as they met, breathless moans and quiet swearing filled the air between you as Terushima worked his hips deep into you, his free hand slipping between the two of you to tease your clit again, as you yanked on his hair, unafraid now to be a little more rough with him the way he was with you, his teeth sinking into your neck in retaliation, earning a yelping moan from you.

“Yuuji, Yuuji,” you gasped, feeling yourself pushed towards your peak, the coil in your belly pulling tight as you dug your fingers into his shoulders, clinging to him for all you were worth.

“Fuck yes,” he panted, his voice a low rasp, clear strain in every word eyes locked on yours, “Give it to me sexy, let me see you come on my cock.”

You did as he asked your walls clamping down hard on him, a gasping cry pulled from your lips as he buried his face in your neck, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chased his own end, clearly right on the edge himself. He gave a shuddering, moaning gasp into your ear as he came, his cock throbbing inside you and prolonging your own release.

For several long moments the two of you lay locked together, your hands absently stroking his hair as he rested nearly the entirety of his weight on you, the two of you desperately attempting to catch your breath.

Eventually he pressed a thankful kiss to your cheek, a surprisingly affectionate gesture before rolling off, quickly disposing of the condom in the small trash can by the bed, one no doubt specifically for that purpose.

You were a little surprised when right after taking care of it he immediately rolled back over to you, slinging a hot arm around your waist and pulling you close. You’d had one night stands who liked to cuddle a bit in the afterglow, and were feeling pretty good yourself, so you didn’t mind a bit, letting him pull you close and stroke his hand up and down your back.

Neither of you said anything, simply basking in comfortable silence and each other’s presence. However, after a few moments you noted his breath had evened out and his hand had stilled. Carefully propping yourself up on your elbow you noted with some amusement that he’d passed out.

It was understandable, frankly after how high energy the concert had been it was a little shocking that he’d had enough energy afterwards for this. A part of you wondered what he’d be like when he had a bit more energy to devote to things, after all this had been one of if not the best one night stand you’d ever had and definitely in your top ten for sex. However, you quickly shook that thought away.

You spent several moments trying to decide if you wanted to let your own eyes shut and doze off for a while, but in the end decided to carefully extract yourself from his grip, figuring it was less awkward to sneak off now than to potentially be kicked out by Terushima, or worse Hana or Anabara in the morning.

It took a second to find your clothes, and in the end you didn’t bother with your panties, instead dropping the garment into the same trash he’d used to dispose of the condom, before slipping on the rest of your clothes. A quick glance around proved you hadn’t forgotten anything and you took one last glance at Terushima, who was sleeping peacefully on the bed.

You felt strangely bittersweet about leaving him, as you’d actually liked him, far more than you’d expected. Still, you weren’t stupid, and with everything you’d heard and seen from him you knew you were just one girl in a never ending parade of girls who’d grace his bed. Quietly you slipped out of the trailer, letting the door close softly behind you so you wouldn’t wake him.

It had gotten cooler since you’d been outside last, a nice breeze springing up that raised goosebumps on your exposed skin. It felt nice, and with the moon full and bright overhead you weren’t worried about losing your way as you quietly made your way back towards the concert venue, knowing you’d be able to find your car fairly easily from there.

“Where are you headed off to?” a quiet voice asked, the suddenness of it nearly making you jump out of your skin.

You whirled around, heart racing in your chest, only to find the leader of Terushima’s band Okudake holding his hands up in clear surrender, an apologetic look on his face. You let out a relieved breath clutching a hand over your still racing heart, glad to see it was someone you knew, if only vaguely.

“Sorry about that,” he told you sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s alright,” you assured him, “I just didn’t expect to see anyone out here.”

“Me neither,” he admitted with a wry chuckle, “But where are you off to? It isn’t safe for a young lady to be out by herself this late.”

“I’m uh, heading back to my car,” you confessed sheepishly, wondering if he knew he sounded like your parent.

“Terushima should’ve at least walked you,” he told you with a disapproving frown, “he’s usually more courteous than this.”

“It’s alright,” you hurriedly assured him, feeling more than a bit awkward as you admitted, “He’s asleep.”

“Ah,” he told you, the single word letting you know that he knew exactly what you were doing, sneaking off without confrontation, though he didn’t comment, instead offering, “Then at least let me walk you? I’ll feel better knowing you aren’t alone.”

“Ah sure,” you agreed, a little baffled but touched by his kindness.

“So what did you think of the show?” he asked casually as the two of you made your way toward the stage.

“It was amazing,” you assured him with a grin, utterly sincere, “the energy was off the charts and the songs were all incredible.”

“You didn’t think there were too many songs about love and heartbreak?” he asked, watching you from the corner of his eye. He clearly read the startled expression on you face because he quickly explained, “We’ve been told we have too many songs about it considering the genre of our group is more rock and our image is harder.”

“I don’t think so,” you assured him, you hadn’t really noticed before but now that he said it you did remember a lot of songs about heartbreak, “I think heartbreak is a pretty universal feeling, so there’s nothing wrong with having lots of songs about it. It’s not something that should be limited to things like genre.”

“I agree,” he told you with a firm nod, “Though I think it would be nice to sing about happiness in love once in a while.”

“So why don’t you?” you asked curious, wondering if this was another issue with love and happiness being the opposite of the more hardcore image they presented.

“Terushima is our main song writer,” he explained, surprising you quite a bit, “And he refuses to write from anything but his own experiences.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he hastily assured you, “We’re grateful to have him. Before Terushima we were a little Podunk band that was going absolutely nowhere. He’s a big reason why Johzenji is getting so popular, even if he does have his difficult moments at heart he’s a good guy that has done a lot for us.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked slowly, feeling a little bit like you were being led into a trap and wondering if you were about to be attacked the way Hana had snapped at you earlier.

“Because Hana told me what happened earlier and I think she might’ve given you the wrong impression,” he explained sheepishly, “Don’t get me wrong, I love her, and she’s an amazing woman but she and Terushima have never quite seen eye to eye.”

“What do you mean?” you questioned utterly baffled about where he was trying to take this.

“I mean from the outside looking in I bet it does look like Terushima’s a player, the last kind of guy you’d ever want to have any sort of relationship with, the kind who only wants women around for a night,” he told you, heaving a sigh and staring up at the night sky, “But it isn’t true at all.”

“Terushima just falls in love far too easily,” he continued, clearly seeing the skeptical expression on your face, “He feels connections with people, latches on, and doesn’t want to let go. Other than the women who’ve snuck out, not a single woman has ever left his bed without his phone number even the ones who really shouldn’t have gotten it.”

“So what he’s a closet romantic?” you asked unable to help the slight sarcasm in your tone, biting back against the pointed comment about you sneaking out without letting Terushima know.

“Something like that,” Okudake agreed, completely unbothered by the bite in your voice, “But more importantly I wanted you to know he likes you, genuinely.”

“If he’s such a romantic, then why doesn’t he have a partner already?” you pointed out, your head unwilling to believe him, even as your heart desperately wanted to.

“Mostly because he has abysmal taste in women,” Okudake informed you bluntly.

“Thanks,” you drawled, sarcastically.

“No,” he hastily assured you, clearly a little flustered, “Normally Terushima only chooses women who want to use him for something or another, either because of his fame or his looks. Hana was rude to you earlier, but she did have good reason to be suspicious of any woman Terushima brought backstage as they’ve been pretty trashy pretty much every single time.”

“But Hana likes you this time,” he charged on, clearly determined to get it all out, “And she’s always had good taste. I think the two of you could be good together if you wanted to give it a shot, and it would be nice to have Terushima write something that isn’t about heartbreak for once.”

“So what you want me to put a leash on your bass player?” you asked skeptically.

“No, I’m telling you he likes you, not just as a one night stand, but as a potential partner, so you know the option is there,” he explained patiently, “And because I think you like him too.”

His words stopped you in your tracks, and you wanted to snap at him, demand to know how he could just assume that as he couldn’t have seen you with Terushima for more than five minutes max. However you also knew he was right, you did like Terushima, a lot, you’d felt a connection to him too, and you really hadn’t wanted to leave. You’d just assumed he’d kick you out if you didn’t.

Now though his bandmate was saying something entirely different, insisting that Terushima was looking for more than a one night stand. The question was, did you believe him and if you did was it worth trying.

You stared at the sky hoping it could give you some kind of answer as Okudake watched and waited patiently. Thinking about it, all you could see was his face, the flash of cocky smirk, the sweet boyish grin, and the intensity in his eyes when he looked at you. He was flirty and confident and surprisingly respectful and sweet and your sexual compatibility was off the charts.

The more you thought about it the more you realized you were more than a bit infatuated with him. The only question now was what you were going to do about it. The thought of walking away now made your heart ache, and you’d never been a coward, so you heaved a breath, turned to Okudake and asked, “Can you take me back to Terushima’s trailer?”

The lead singer smiled kindly at you, and thankfully didn’t comment, simply turned around and led the way, wishing you a quiet but genuine good luck, and inviting you to have breakfast with the band in the morning.

Slipping into the trailer, you’d half planned to simply slip back into bed with Terushima, who you fully expected to find conked out on the bed. Instead you found him sat at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, fingers buried in his blond hair, defeat and despondency in every line of his body. A part of you had kind of doubted what Okudake had said before, but looking at him now you thought maybe he’d been telling the truth after all.

The sound of the door as it clicked closed behind you made Terushima’s head jolt up, an utterly miserable expression on his face until his eyes focused on you, misery quickly replaced with befuddled awe, like he couldn’t quite believe you were standing in front of him.

“Hey, hot shot,” you greeted softly, unsure what to say, but needing to break the silence.

“Hey,” he returned, attempting to give you a cocky smirk, though the expression fell flat, “You forget something?”

“Can I come in?” you asked, gently, relieved when he gestured for you to help yourself.

You quickly slid your sandals off and made your way to the bed, not bothering to sit on it, but instead sinking to your knees in front of him, earning a surprised look. You reached for his hands and he gave them easily, twining his fingers through yours.

“So a little birdie told me I might’ve made some assumptions about you that I shouldn’t have,” you admitted, peering into his face.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, watching you carefully, “What kind of assumptions?”

“Like maybe you weren’t just looking to hook-up with a stranger for a one night stand tonight,” you confessed, feeling a bit anxious but doing your best to hide it, “Like maybe you weren’t trying to use ridiculous lines one me and maybe you really did feel a connection.”

“Is that why you ditched me before I could even ask for your number?” he asked with a huff of that was probably supposed to be a laugh but sounded surprisingly painful, “Because you thought I was looking for another notch in my belt?”

“Yeah,” you admitted guiltily, heart squeezing in your chest.

“It’s my fault,” he confessed tiredly, “I should know better by now than to jump right into bed with the people who catch my attention, but I thought if I could show you how good we could be, then you might want to stick around. Stupid huh?”

“I could’ve talked to you too,” you consoled then gently teased, “The sex was pretty good though.”

“What are you saying, it was fucking mind-blowing,” he smirked, regaining some of his cocky demeanor.

“Eh, I’ve had better,” you told him, earning a surprisingly cute pout from the bass player.

“Then I guess you’ll have to stick around for a while, so I can show you what I can really do,” he proposed casually, though you could see the tentative hope in his eyes.

“I guess I’d better,” you agreed with a grin, “Though on one condition.”

“Name it,” he agreed eagerly.

“I want a proper date,” you told him, “And your phone number.”

“That’s two conditions little miss sexy,” he teased, his eyes alight with desire and a surprising amount of affection, “But I suppose I can agree if you call me by my name again and agree to be my girlfriend.”

“It’s a deal Yuuji,” you agreed, leaning up to press an affectionate kiss to his lips, one he accepted eagerly, you pulled away before the two of you could get carried away grinning at him like an idiot, well aware that he really should be asleep.

It took a bit, but the two of you managed to get settled into bed together again after you re-shed your clothes, cuddled up close, with Terushima laying half on top of you claiming it was so you couldn’t run off on him again. You’d huffed, but allowed it, enjoying the proximity and his warmth.

He was quick to doze off again, face pressed into your neck, and you found yourself drifting too, contemplating just how lucky you were to have found him, and looking forward to what the future might bring.

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#terushima yuuji x you #terushima yuuji x reader #terushima yuuji #yuuji terushima #terushima x you #terushima x reader #terushima smut #terushima fluff #terushima yuuji fluff #terushima yuuji smut #alternate universe #band au #JayeRayWrites #JayRaySpice

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marvelmymarvel · 3 years

Text

Fever

Orochimaru x Reader

Synopsis: Orochimaru was careful with many things. His experiments, his plans, you... But a baby?? How in the world was he supposed to be careful with a baby?

Tags: @brithedemonspawn

As a child, you never thought that this would be your future. Orochimaru was known for his evil wrongdoings, that much you knew as a young ninja for the leaf, but now he was trying to turn himself around. The village turned their backs on him, shunning him and treating him like the monster that he himself claimed he was.

But not you.

Now, after years of helping him adjust back into being a ‘model’ citizen (or as close to one as possible), you were here. Tired, covered in vomit, and trying to rock a sick baby back to sleep. It wasn’t the plan you had when you first met him when you first got lost in his golden-colored eyes. All you wanted to do was treat him like a normal person, but nothing ever goes as planned in the real world.

“Please honey, please calm down” you whimpered out, your own tears welling up as the smell of his vomit rose to your nose, making your stomach turn in disgust. Many assured you that a boy would be easier to raise, but that didn’t matter when it came to the baby's bodily functions. Your mind began to race as you pressed a hand to his cheek, biting your lip at the fever on his clammy flesh. Maybe Tsunade could help? Sakura??

Another wail flew from the child, and you too returned your own cry as you shifted him in your arms. Pleading to the gods to help you. “Don’t cry my darling” a husky voice whispered in your ear as Orochimaru’s arm wrapped around you to caress the child's head with the back of his finger. Gentle, barely a touch. He had been having a difficult time with being careful, still not understanding that a baby of this age was a fragile being. One wrong move and he could be killed, something that frightened Orochimaru to the point where he refused to touch his own son.

“Please, please Oro do something. He’s burning up a-and he can’t keep anything down. I’m so scared” your own cry seemed to mask the sick child's uncomfortable wails, shattering the man's heart as you turned in his arms. Your e/c eyes were wide and pleading for him to help, hoping that he could at least lower the child’s fever until the morning where you could get help from a medic.

Orochimaru froze in his spot, he knew before you said anything that his child was not feeling well because of how hot he felt against his finger. His thoughts began to race, worry and concern about harming the fragile child plaguing his mind with anxiety. “Please. Orochimaru. Please help our son”

The fog in his brain cleared at your words, the panic in your tone snapping him out of his own worries. He had to help, he didn’t have time to worry. “Okay, bring him over here” Orochimaru whispered out, turning to walk towards the rocking chair in the corner of the room. He settled down into the wood as his heart raced faster and faster the closer you got to him, neither you nor the baby had stopped crying and all he wanted to do now was help.

“Okay... Put him in my arm”

He didn’t know if that was the proper way to hold a fragile little human, but he hoped that you would adjust the baby in a way where he wouldn’t have to move. You nodded before quickly moving his arm into a cradle shape. “You have to make sure h-his head is supported” you stuttered out instructions out of habit as you lowered the baby onto the arm, adjusting his head so it was propped up against the junction between Orochimaru’s forearm and bicep.

If you had superhearing, you would surely be hearing how fast his heart was pounding right now, but he didn’t have time to think about how terrified he was. He leaned back, adjusting slightly so the wailing baby was still supported securely against his arm. Confidence grew within him, realizing that it wasn’t as hard as he thought. You dropped down beside the rocker, sniffling loudly as you raked your fingers through the baby's thin hair, black just like his father's. “I need you to calm down for me darling” Orochimaru whispered out as he lifted his free hand towards his son's head, it wasn’t that you were being overdramatic for he was also in that state of mind.

But he hated seeing you like this, especially when he could help fix such a problem.

You nodded and realized that he was right, he wasn’t the best at medical ninjutsu but he may be good enough to help. Orochimaru’s shaking hand clasped softly over his son's temple, fingers slightly touching your trembling ones that were now helping to support the squirming child. Taking a deep breath, Orochimaru closed his eyes and focused all of his chakra into his hand, sighing slightly as he heard your gasp of relief as a result.

Slowly the screaming child calmed down and you felt his fever go down with it before he passed out peacefully in his father's arms. Orochimaru opened his eyes and drug his fingers softly along the chubby cheeks of the child, smiling softly at the view before him. Your head rested softly on the armrest of the rocking chair, eyes tired and full of happy tears as you continued to rake your fingers through the little one's hair. “Thank you” you choked out as you stood up from the ground, hands reaching down to scoop the baby from his arms. But something peculiar happened, Orochimaru pulled back.

Your eyebrows shot up in shock but you were far from upset as your husband shot a protective glare your way, “I-I wanna hold him a little longer... Why don't you go to bed my darling. You look exhausted.” Orochimaru sounded nervous as if you would ruin the precious exchange below. You leaned down with a smile as you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, heart surging with love and happiness for the two most important people in your life. He kissed back but pulled away when your baby moved in his arms, bothered by how you leaned over him to get to your husband.

“Careful” Orochimaru hissed out. Had he hissed at you like such in a different scenario, you would have put him back in his place. But... “Okay. Come to bed soon though” you whispered out before walking towards the door, set on taking a shower and passing out as soon as possible. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off of your chest now that Orochimaru seemed to be on board with helping out, you knew he wanted to but he was so scared of harming the child that you never pushed it.

You expected him to be in bed by the time you got out of the shower, but the bed was empty. “Baby should be asleep” you whispered to yourself as you headed back down the hall to the nursery, footsteps light and strategic to avoid any loud creaking of the floorboards below. Cracking the door open you found an empty chair and no sign of your son nor Orochimaru. Your eyebrows crinkled together in confusion but you found them soon after as you stepped into the room. A smile formed on your lips as you tiptoed towards the crib, heart hammering as you got closer and closer. On the mattress too tiny for a full-grown man laid Orochimaru, passed out with your son sleeping soundly on his chest.

“You’ll do anything for love... I should have known” you whispered out loud as you reached up and turned off the lamp beside them, making the room pitch black except for a nightlight below the crib. Heading back towards the door, you spared one last look at the two, knowing full well that your husband would be complaining about a sore back the next day. God, you were so thankful you welcomed him with open arms. This wasn’t the future you planned for. “Goodnight boys” you whisper as you close the door behind you.

But you wouldn’t change a thing.

#orochimaru imagine #orochimaru imagines #orochimaru x reader #orochimaru fanfiction #orochimaru #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #orochimaru headcanons #naruto fanfiction

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mercurial-madhouse · 3 years

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Anonymous asked: I wish you would write... A Disney princess!AU (like cinderella or sleeping beauty or snow white) where both of them are princes just that they follow the same general plotline (for example H could be prince charming and L could be the one that got put to sleep or hidden somehow/some reason).

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You don’t have to say you love me (Just let me adore you)

Fiery sunlight flashes through the pendant soaring through the air, its broken chain trailing behind like snapped heartstrings.

Wrenched out of a waking dream, confusion and shock overwhelm Harry as he lurches on the shifting deck. Reeling yet frozen, he scans the insanity before him.

In his enchanted absence, chaos has usurped his throne. Niall, Liam, and Zayn are all racing about, attempting to contain the mayhem. And he’s… Why is he in his purple ceremonial robes? Why is he at sea? And the strange man a few metres away, who has just lost the pendant—what’s his name?—Ben. Why the bloody hell is Ben covered in sea creatures? Only his outstretched hand is visible, clawing for one end of the broken chain that’s sailing just out of reach.

The horrifying truth catapults into Harry’s chest. Caught within the magic bound into that necklace, he’d almost married this stranger. But this isn’t the man he loves.

Fear drives like a weighted anchor into his chest. Someone or something slams into him from behind.

Stumbling forward, Harry searches the quarterdeck desperately for the one person missing, the last person he remembers. Relief battles surprise and both cascade over Harry, unlocking his lungs beneath the flood-tide of emotion when Harry finds him.

Louis’s bracing barefoot against the opposite rail near Harry’s quarters, the captain’s cabin. The loose white shirt Harry first gave him, the one he’d flung off his own back when he’d found Louis stranded naked on the rocky shore three days ago, hangs haphazardly from one pale shoulder. The silent, shipwrecked sailor had struggled with the buttons then as though he’d never seen them before. Even now the shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest, one side tucked into his trousers as though Louis had thrown it on in a frantic rush to get here.

Ocean blues, wide like the ebbing tide, lock onto Harry’s. Harry launches through the melee of people and ocean life to reach Louis. Harry’s always hated low tide. Always felt like he was helplessly watching the shoreline as the ocean receded ever further away from him.

The circular pendant hits the deck and cracks. A golden flash bursts from the object, halting the tumult as it blinds everyone.

Harry’s heart surges into his windpipe as the beam zings across the deck, slams into Louis’s throat, and disappears.

Shock etches over Louis’s face. He pushes three fingers against his neck then swallows.

He opens his mouth… and speaks.

Harry’s world upends, throwing him back beneath the swirling waters of his own shipwreck eight days earlier. Up and down collide with past and present as the voice he’s dreamed of since that day comes to life and enchants him all over again with a single word.

“Hazza.”

Harry grins at the obvious curiousity scrunching Louis’s features. Whether he never could talk or the shipwreck that brought him to Harry’s shores left him too afraid to speak, Harry doesn’t know. But his beautiful features are so wonderfully expressive it’s as though Harry’s fluent in a language he didn’t realize he knew.

“What. Haz?”

Louis nods, glancing at the closed door they’d just come through after Harry’s mum, the queen, had shooed them out of her private chambers with a wave and that childhood name for Harry on her lips.

“It’s short for Hazza.” Why is he telling Louis? His mum never calls him Haz unless they’re alone, and now he’s adding to the slip-up?

Louis’s eyes light up with such pure delight that Harry’s heart skips a beat and promptly rolls over in his chest like it’s prepared to give up the ghost to the ocean depths. He tucks a wayward strand of hair out of Louis’s eyes. Countless brushings and his hair is as wild as it’d been when Harry found him yesterday. Untameable as the ocean that’d brought him here.

Mouth suddenly dry despite emotionally drowning, Harry’s tongue flicks out to wet his lip. He follows his heart over the ocean horizon that’s reflecting in those blue eyes. “You can call me that, if you want. Hazza.”

He’s officially lost his mind. Only his mum has the right to either name. But the soft, private smile Louis bestows upon him is so warm that Harry feels like he’s been crowned the prince all over again. All the adoration of the entire kingdom pales compared to the affection emanating from Louis now.

Louis’s mouth forms silently over the word, like he’s testing the feel of the name on his lips the same way he’s once again rubbing the ruffled silk cuff of the pale blue shirt he’s wearing between his fingertips. A flash of sadness momentarily dims Louis’ smile, but then it returns larger than before, crinkling the corners of his eyes, as though Louis still loves what neither of them can hear.

Harry would give up his claim to the throne for that smile.

“It’s you.”

The choked words burble up from his throat like bubbles through swirling seas. Two more steps and Louis’s in his arms. Holding Louis feels like the wild exhilaration of setting sail. Louis smells like saltwater air, a zesty ocean zephyr billowing the sails and guiding Harry ever onwards.

Unable to process, Harry tries to clutch Louis close and look into his face at the same time. His forehead bumps into Louis’s temple; his palm curves over Louis’s jaw.

“How is this-... I don’t-...”

Louis’s fingers fist in the purple velvet of Harry’s coat. “I’ll explain everything, Hazza, I s-”

Even though ragged with desperation, the vibrant sound of his voice shocks through Harry. Fantasy and reality collide and fragment into crystal clarity.

The man of his dreams is standing before him. Wide awake this time with no water filling his lungs, Harry refuses to lose Louis again.

He’d almost kissed Louis in the grotto before their boat upended. Now he ducks in to smash his lips into Louis’s before anything else can break them apart.

The port side of the ship runs aground over a submerged sandbar. A barrel careening across the deck slams into Harry in the massive shockwave surging over L'Esprit as she keels to starboard, wrenching Louis from his grasp.

“Sire!” His first mate Liam catches Harry around the waist, hauling him against the mainmast he’s got hold of. But Louis stumbles, unable to find his balance.

“No!” Harry’s hand catches empty air as Louis hits the deck, sliding with everything not held down until he slams into the starboard rail.

The ship shudders and stills, canted slightly.

Gripping the rail, Louis pushes back to his feet. Harry pushes away from Liam. The sun sinks over the horizon. A blinding green flash shoots up from the spot where she fell into the sea.

“Mary mother,” Niall, Harry’s helmsman, breathes nearby, quickly crossing himself.

Every sailor knows the superstition. The green flash. The impossible will be made possible.

Harry staggers, halting halfway to him when Louis freezes. The blood drains from Louis’s face right before he disappears from view, engulfed in the same golden magic that’d left the necklace and returned his voice.

The golden hurricane vanishes.

Pure disbelief consumes Harry.

Louis’ shirt and tattoos are gone, replaced with pale skin broken only with tiny translucent scales where his tattoos used to be. They flash golden in the last rays of light, trailing down to a magnificent fishtail. Iridescent blue, with each tiny movement the colour shifts, as though the ocean and all her colours are captured within. Speckled throughout are scales of coral red, deep and luscious.

Harry blinks. The illusion remains. Fin smacking against the wood, Louis struggles upright, bracing on his palms.

Harry’s dimly aware of those eyes locking back onto him.

Louis slowly shakes his head, the plea so obvious on his face. “Hazza, I can expl-”

A slow chuckle from the forecastle breaks through the haze of disbelief clouding Harry’s senses.

Ben rises to his feet, casually brushing off guppies and starfish. The smirk on his face transforms his features and a wave of disgust rolls over Harry.

“Even the ocean knows you don’t belong together.”

He’s speaking to Louis.

Louis shakes his head again, tail flopping once more as he tries to straighten his torso best he can. His scales are already wrinkling, drying out in the warm evening air. “You enchanted him with me voice! How was I-”

Ben cuts Louis off by holding up a hand, three fingers raised. “Three days. That was the contract. You had three days to find your true love’s kiss, no matter what.”

Harry can’t keep up. That word, love, shocks him into speaking, but only a noise comes out before Louis’s growling at Ben in an echo of that burst of impetuous fire Harry’s seen glimpses of these past few days.

“I love him.” The melody of Louis’s voice changes. “Please, Simon, just give me one more minute.”

But Ben only laughs again, that same light chuckle. It grows, steadily deepening into a throaty cackle. A cloud of black envelops him until that laughter emanates from the void, punching through Harry and the hearts of every sailor aboard.

The monstrosity left in the wake of that cloud and laughter has several sailors crying out in fear, backing away. The human half is older, greying hair and cutting eyes. Instead of a tail, the creature ends in thick tentacles.

Simon leers at Louis. “Your voice belongs to me now.”

He lunges. Louis throws himself back against the rail. His eyes find Harry. Time frees Harry’s legs. He dives forward.

Simon’s arm catches Louis around the chest. His tentacles lock around that beautiful tail. Louis’s fingers claw into the wood, but the suckers latching into his scales immobilize him.

They vanish overboard.

“No!” Harry slams against the railing in time to catch a final glimpse of iridescent scales choked by black tentacles disappearing beneath the white-capped waves. He tears the buttons of his waistcoat ripping the ornate fabric off. He grabs the railing to dive overboard.

A hand grabs his arm, wrenching him back.

“Majesty, are you mad?!” Niall stares at him in horror. “You’re human, Sire!”

A burst of agony-fueled anger surges through Harry. “I don’t care,” he roars, wrenching his arm free. “I love him.”

It doesn’t matter that he’s in love with a fish.

Niall grabs him again. “I know.” Voice softer, but no less intense, he shakes his head. “But the ocean floor is only a grave for the likes of us. You’ll be dead before you can get close.”

The pity in Niall’s eyes hurts Harry more than his next words.

“He’s lost, Harry.”

Refusing to believe that, Harry shakes his head, jerking away from the words. Something flashes on the deck.

The compass that’d been around Ben’s, no, that monster’s neck. Harry’s heart lurches into his throat when he recognizes it.

It’s his compass. Understanding that his first love would always be the sea, his mother had gifted it to him when he’d turned sixteen two years ago, so he’d always find his way home no matter how far over the horizon he sailed. He’d been clutching it when he’d gone overboard in the storm, and was so certain he’d lost it in the shipwreck.

Harry snatches it from the deck. The broken chain falls away but Harry can only stare as the familiar weight in his palm settles in a pained squeeze around his heart with a single flash of a memory.

Floating. Numb. Idle waves weaving over his legs. A comforting pressure over his torso.

Gentle fingers brush a wet lock of hair from his face. The stranded curl slides over his cheek. His fingers curl around his compass.

Distant voices. “Majesty! Prince Harry!”

The weight shifts, startled. Lips brush a soft kiss over his brow.

“Live,” that bright voice that’d just been singing, beckoning Harry towards the surface of his consciousness, whispers, quiet yet commanding.

“Your Majesty! Prince Harry!”

A hand smooths down his arm and slides over his palm. The weight of his compass vanishes with the fingers. Someone splashes away through the shallows.

Blinding sunlight pierces his eyes as he pushes them open. He’s alone on the shore. Niall and Liam are racing across the surf towards him.

“Your majesty!” Liam’s shout jars Harry from the memory. The ocean had claimed him, and the ocean had saved him. It’s not Louis’s eyes that were familiar. After all these years, Harry’s now certain the ocean has been familiar because it swirls in captured sunswirls in those eyes he’d finally found three days ago.

And like the ebbing tide slipping through his fingers, that freedom has once again sunk beyond his reach.

“Majesty?” Liam’s fingertips brush his elbow to get his attention. Sorrow washes his voice soft. “Your orders?”

Harry can’t look away from his compass.

The glass is cracked, as broken as the mechanism within. The arrow no longer points north, but west, towards the horizon. Angry tears blur his vision as frustration wells in the pit of his stomach. He’s spent years seeking the heart of the ocean, only to find it, only to lose him. Louis saved him twice and now Harry can’t help him.

Harry can’t follow.

Harry clutches the compass until his knuckles are white, riding the roiling wave of frustration desperately. A warmth bursts from the compass and flushes his palm. Startled, Harry jumps. Like sunlight shifting over the surface, the compass flashes with a remnant of that golden magic of Louis’s voice that’d burst from it earlier.

Hope flutters like twin swallows taking flight in his chest. Harry turns back towards the rail where the arrow is pointing.

The broken arrow moves with him, aiming ever onward in the direction Simon and Louis had vanished. Harry’s facing due west but the arrow now points north before him.

“Sire?” Niall’s eyes are wide. He crosses himself again, staring at the compass in Harry’s hand.

A grim determination sweeps over Harry. “Get us afloat, Liam.”

His first mate nods. As Liam turns, barking out orders to the rest of the crew, Harry pockets his compass and throws off the lavender waistcoat that matches the coat he’d already discarded.

Unbuttoning the top three buttons of his white shirt, he rolls his sleeves up and turns to Niall.

“To the helm, Niall. I’ve got a prince to find.”

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<

(Of the three Disney-inspired ideas that came to me, I attempted with this one to stick as close to a direct retelling with Louis as the princess as the prompt requested. I’d also always wondered how Prince Eric knew where to find Ariel so he could help her defeat Ursula in the Disney version of Little Mermaid. I tried to answer that here. Hope you enjoy, Anony! I know it took a while. Moving homes can make writing time hard to find! And a huge thank you to you, Lily, for all your help, love!)

Have something else you’d like to see me write? Send me an ask (anon or no) completing the sentence ‘I wish you’d write a fic where…’

OT5 Superpowers

Invisible Louis

Only one bed (H-POV)

Only one bed (L-POV)

ABO new-omega!Louis drabble that became a fic on AO3.

OT4 Spy AU

Disney-Inspired 1: Liam/Harry/Louis as Niall’s three fairy godmother roommates.

#trackinghome #hlcreators #hljournal #1dsource #yourlarrysource #tracksintheam #larry fanfiction #1d fanfiction #drabble

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operation-619 · 3 years

Note

What if the reader is an alien that has the same power as superman and stronger than Homelander? The reader works at the Vought and doesn't know the corruption in it until Butcher told the truth. Homelander acts soft on her when they see each other, and Homelander was still confused about his feelings and put his ego shit first. I kinda wanna see Homelander battling the reader when she was trying to protect Ryan and Butcher while Maeve hasn’t arrived yet. She will make him bleed.

Even the strongest man Bleeds.

Edited 17-01-21

Homelander x Alien! Reader

Warning: mentions of blood, language, mentions of death and murder. Violence read at your own risk.

Bold italics- inner dialogue, Bold- the past.

WC - 3.1k

Masterlist

“The compound V is what makes them, supes. It’s not real and the golden boy, your Homelander, is the most corrupt motherfucker I have ever met. We need your help (Y/N). Please?” his voice was hoarse, the stress in his words were leaking onto his face. She could see the worry on his face, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe the men in front of her.

“You’re lying to me. Billy Butcher, you have a lot of nerve coming here, you and your gang are mortal enemies to Homelander right now. It’s not safe.” The muscular black man scoffed at her statement and leaned back against the seat. He seemed relaxed but his eyes constantly sweeping the place told (Y/N) otherwise.

“I swear, come back with me and I will show you everything. Please?” his eyes crinkled at the sides as he pulled his face into what looked like a poor attempt at a pleading face. (Y/N)’s mouth was just forming the word ‘NO’ when the man called Mother’s Milk chuckled and leaned forward.

He whispered, “he doesn’t ever say please,” and stood up from the booth and walked out of the café. Her mind was racing, weighing the pros and cons of her current situation. She considered whether or not they were just baiting her into a trap, but she was confident that she could make her way out of it. But it isn’t everyday that two men come waltzing into her favourite café, sit themselves down like they own the place and cough up a semi-convincing story about the corruption at Vought.

“Fuck it,” she whispered under her breathe, “fine I’ll come, it’s good to go out your comfort zone once in a while.” The smile on her face made Billy look at her with confusion painted on his rugged features. She stood, and gestured Butcher to show her the way, “just so you know, I don’t believe you at all.”

(Y/N) replayed her past movement in her head carefully over and over again, and yet she still could not believe how naïve she truly was. But here she is sat in a car that smells like Old Spice, waiting for Frenchie to get the speakers ready. She threw her head back against the headrest and released a shaky breath; everything she believed and knew had been a lie to her. Including John. ‘Oh dear god John, what have you done?’ Her thoughts were getting too loud, they were screaming at her asking how she could’ve been so stupid to not know.

‘How could you not know?’

‘It was right in front of your face you idiot’

‘Your really are a cunt!’

(Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples, the stress of all the sudden information was taking a toll on the woman. Whimpering under her breath, she opened the car door and inhaled the cold air. Closing the car door, she leaned against it and watched as the group of friends conversed amongst themselves. The plan was to set off the sonic device and John to go over and destroy the source, and when he does Billy and Becca will drive and get Ryan. She still didn’t know why she was needed, (Y/N) was still processing the information she was given 48 hours ago.

“Okay, 15 minutes and everything will be all set,” the French accent let her know who was talking, but she wasn’t paying that much attention when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck arise.

“Get in the cars!” she whispered harshly, her arms waving about ushering the people back into the cars. (Y/N)’s breath shallowed once everyone was in their respected cars, she creeped forward and looked upwards, watching as the uncovered Nazi zoomed by. She vividly remembered the moment she had met that woman. (Y/N) never trusted that woman, something about the way her heart leaped when an opportunity to hurt someone arose. (Y/N) also didn’t like the way John was towards her, all bark, and no bite- vulnerable.

(Y/N) had never seen John so vulnerable around anyone except her.

The metallic taste in the air is what told (Y/N) that Stormfront had just flown by, the hair on the back of her neck relaxed and so did her posture. Walking over to Butcher, she waited until he rolled down his window before she spoke; “She’s seen the leaked news, my guess is she is going back to Vaught to see what caused that, fiasco.” She heard another window come down, not doubt Frenchie and the others.

“Was she alone?” without turning around she nodded. (Y/N)’s tongue ran across the bottom of her teeth before she turned around and faced the two cars, the cars holding the people that brought the truth to her naïve and simplistic eyes. “What exactly am I doing here? Because, you have the weapons, metaphorical and physical to defeat them. So please, tell me why I am here?” her eye followed the movements of the human bodies getting out of the cars. She could see the look on Becca’s face, and she didn’t like it.

“We’re gonna use ya.” Her (E/C) eyes shot towards MM, he stood there tall and domineering, with his hands on his hips. “Starlight, or Annie told us how soft Homelander is on you. And if things go south, you are our pawn.” (Y/N)’s hearts faltered.

“You humans are so pathetic. I mean, I am old. Older than all of you put together, so I have seen shit that no one can imagine. But the one thing that never changes is the utter stupidity of you homo-sapiens, the selfishness and carnage that I have experienced puts my species to shame.” (Y/N) paced back and forth, her anger evident as black veins started to appear under her (E/C) eyes.

“(Y/N). Please, MM didn’t mean it like that,”

“I did. I did mean it exactly how I said it Becca,” (Y/N) stalked the movement of the vigilante group. Her hearing was being drowned by the loudness of her beating hearts. She watched as Becca stepped forwards and stopped right in front of her.

“My son, who was conceived in the most- my son is in there. I don’t know if you have had children before. But I am not going anywhere until I have my boy in my arms. So please, help me.” (Y/N) flinched when she felt warm hands placed onto her cold shoulders, echoes of her past resonating inside her head. She now understood the look on Becca’s face, the look of a mother- a childless mother that no longer understands their purpose in life. Because she was one.

“Okay, but I want this on my terms.”

The little boy was screaming when (Y/N) landed behind John, crying for his mommy to wake up. She looked around, seeing the two women laying lifeless. She was too late to save them. The metallic taste in the air was getting stronger the closer she walked towards the pandemonium. The woman that confided in her mere moments ago, now lay with blood flowing out the cut in her neck. She watched as Butcher tried to stop the bleeding his white hands now crimson. His whole body covered in blood, soaking him to his soul.

Turning her head, (Y/N) saw John knelt next to Stormfront or what is left of her. The burnt woman mumbling in what sounded like German. “Ryan- ‘her attention went from the barbequed supe to John, ‘did you do this?”

“He didn’t mean to John,” she watched his whole-body flinch at the sound of her voice, she was happy to see his face finally, to get some sort of justification. But the feeling that shot through her body was the complete opposite, the look in his eyes reminded her of herself, and she didn’t like it.

“What are you doing here, I thought you left?” he surged forward and cupped her face, (Y/N) placed her hand on his chest and the other on his hand. She closed her eyes and inhaled her John deeply. “(Y/N), you have no idea, I. I don’t understand.” The beating of his heart grounded her for a moment, everything around them disappeared for a moment as the two of them were caught in their own bubble. But (Y/N) knew the bubble had to be popped. And she had the sharpest needle to do it with.

“John, what happened on the plane.” She was met with silence, the hands gripped her face harder, but her eyes still remained closed. “You left them all to die, didn’t you?”

“I did not leave them to die, I tried to save them. You know this (Y/N), why are you asking me this.” His mouth was talking but his heart told her the truth. Releasing a soft sigh, (Y/N) stepped back from John and finally opened her eyes. The bubble burst when his blue eyes met pitch black, her pupils had flooded the white out leaving a demonic presence behind, the black veins appeared all over her body pulsing violently.

“I know everything John, you have been lying to me. I trusted you, and you know that.” He started to mutter words that didn’t make sense to her, his hands anchored in his hair. (Y/N) watched as the great Homelander fell apart right in front of her, Earths favourite and mightiest hero crumbled under the pressure of words.

“Now let them go John. Please?” when his blue eyes met hers, the look rivalled hell itself. His jaw twitched, tongue pocking out to lick his bottom lip. He never broke eye contact with her, his eyes tracked her like predator to prey. (Y/N) moved cautiously, never turning her back to John. Once she was stationed in front of Butcher and the kid, she placed her right arm out and behind her. (Y/N)’s ears were ringing, the power surging through her was immense and yet she felt weak. Weak, it wasn’t a word her species spoke, and she never heard of such a word until she came to earth. Vulnerable, weak, powerless, helpless, defenceless, and fragile; all these words are now part of her vocabulary, and she was feeling every single one of them as she looked at the man she had come to love.

(Y/N) had given him not just one but both of her hearts. He was the first person that offered her his hand when the rest of this new world beat her down with their harsh words, he taught her how the ways of her new life, he was her new life. (Y/N) may have been a celestial being, but she knew when something wasn’t right. At first, she thought John was just trapping her, the distance – although not physical – was fluctuating between then constantly; first John welcomed her with open arms, then he kept her at arms-length when they got too close and then the cycle repeated.

But through all the shit he had put her through, she was still there for him. until now.

“We are going to leave, and you will never trouble them again.” Her vision was sharp as she watched the wrecked man in front of her chose the option she hoped he wouldn’t.

“You know I can’t do that, he’s my son.” And with that he charged towards them, eyes red with hunger and rage. His path changed when he felt a fist connect with his cheek, sending him flying into a tree. His world spun, staggering up onto his feet he made eye contact with the shell of the woman he loves. Her black eyes reminded him of a starless night, an abyss that was forbidden to travel.

Something cold dripped onto his lip, and out of instinct his tongue licked it away, he thought nothing of it until the unfamiliar taste of blood slithered its way down his throat. His naked hand came up and delicately touched his nose, he hissed in pain when his calloused hand touch it, retracting his hand he look in bewilderment at the blood sat there taunting him on his hand.

“You broke my nose,” his voice was meagre but loud enough for her to hear the vulnerability in it.

She turned to Butcher and the child hurriedly telling them , “get away from here, quickly,” and before she could turn back around, she was pinned to the muddy floor. Her face caked in the mixture of blood and dirt; she could feel John’s breath on her neck. Without a second thought she flung her head back and used the distraction to spin around and wrap her hand around the heroes throat. (Y/N) paid no mind to the thoughts pounding in her head, she wasn’t about to let them stop her from – whatever she thought she was doing.

“(Y/N) … (Y/N). please.” the air around them froze, she wanted answers but standing here with her hand around the nations saviour’s throat was not the way she needed to get them. “You lied to me John, the one person who promised to never lie to me. You betrayed my trust.” She threw him to the ground.

“You had me working for monsters. They never helped people!” the wind started to pick up around them, her (Y/H/C) hair danced ferociously around her face, a face that was covered in black veins pulsating in rage. (Y/N)’s head snapped to the right when she heard a twig snap, her vision was met with Butcher and the kid watching her in astonishment and fear. The kid was hiding behind Butcher, just his head poking out watching (Y/N) beat up his father. And god did he look like John.

(Y/N)’s body moved before she could even realise what was happening, her left hand came up to stop the blow coming her way and then she knelt down, using John’s momentum against him, she throw him over her shoulder. But the outcome wasn’t in her favour as he managed to land on his feet. And then he was charging at her. Punches were thrown and bodied flung everywhere, (Y/N) couldn’t bring herself to kill John, but it felt good to hurt him.

“He’s my son (Y/N). He needs me!” his words were met with a foot to his chest.

“No one need you John, not after what you did,” her elbow jabbed into his stomach, causing his arms to release her waist, she looked at his body lying pathetically on the forest floor. Americas strongest man, the embodiment of patriotism and pride had fallen to his knees.

“(Y/N), you have and always will need me’, his blue eye sparkled with malicious intent, ‘no one wanted a freak roaming our home, but because I stood by your side, they welcomed you. But the moment I’m gone. You will be nothing. But a monster to the people you love so much.” Blood came flying out of his mouth as he spat his words at her. His armour had crumbled and all he had left was his words.

“Stop” the alien smiled at the hero on his knees, her eyes only moved off his body when she felt a presence next to her. John started to get up, but (Y/N) swiftly moved forward, wrapping her arm around his neck, and gripping his hair with her free hand. She forced him to stay down, on his knees.

Maeve came into sight, moving cautiously like she was afraid he would brake from his bond. She stopped when she was right in front of the disgraced hero.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” (Y/N) could feel John shaking in her grip. The two looked at each other in silence for a while, their eye contact unbreakable. (Y/N) spared a glance at Butcher, who was still stood in the same place.

“You’re going to let them go,” the man in question scoffed but immediately fell silent when (Y/N) tightened her grip on his hair. He cleared his throat, moving subtlety before answering the Queen.

“And if I don’t?” his ego spoke louder than the words coming out of his mouth, he was confident that everything was going his way. Both Maeve and (Y/N) knew that. But the moment Maeve held up the recording of the plane (Y/N) could physically feel The Homelander admitting defeat. The cries of the passengers echoed through her head, along with the bullshit lie the man in her arms fed her. ‘there was nothing we could do, the terrorist had too much control I tried to save them (Y/N). I tried.’

“You’re going to stop hunting Starlight, you’re going to leave me and Elena alone. Or I release this.” there was no room for argument, and he knew that. But he had to open his mouth. “If you do that, I’ll destroy everything and everyone.” (Y/N)’s grip tightened, she dragged his head backward and brought her lips to his bloody ear. Her voice was cold, no hint of vulnerability, no hint of emotion.

She could feel his bones quaking under her arm as she tightened her hold on the man she had come to love. The man that made everything feel less painful, the man that she called a true friend. But standing here in the middle of a forest with two dead women, a sobbing child and a emotionless man; she realised that what her people said about the human race was true. And John had proven that to her. It took everything in (Y/N) not to simply break his neck but she wanted him to hurt.

She wanted him to bleed.

So, she looked up at Maeve and signalled her to get the two boys out of here, she wanted to be alone with him. she willed herself to calm down, she knew she wasn’t in the right headframe to talk to John because if she did so now, his head would be lying two feet way from his body. So, she whispered to the man calmly, hearts no longer racing with hatred or fear. She let the venom in her voice speak for itself as she whispered to Homelander. But she let man she loved hear the pain in her voice, because the man she was holding was not her John, her John had died the moment Butcher and Mother’s Milk sat down across from her in the café. However, (Y/N) had comfort as she let the ten simple words leave her mouth, because she knows that no matter how much Compound V is pumping through his body. Even the Strongest man bleeds.

“If you do that Homelander, I will make you bleed.”

|=|=|

Hello beautiful people, I hope you enjoyed my little piece, feel free to leave comments about what you liked and didn’t like, I’m okay with a bit of constructive criticism I believe it will help me get better, and if you want anything else.

#homelander x reader #homelander #the boys #violence #angst #blood #queen maeve #alien reader #extraterestrial #the boys x reader

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