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ellaenchanting · 2 years

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Hypnovember Day 5: Mirrors

I’m jumping ahead and posting day 5 today since day 4 is going to be a recording.

I’ve got to say- this one started cliche and got really hot (IMHO).

F/f, noncon

Paige knew she should have never accepted that friend request from Brett.

It had been at least a decade and a half since they had last spoken and her ex-girlfriend Brett had certainly been a…darker time in her life. But after her divorce, Paige was trying to be better about letting the past go and giving people the benefit of the doubt. Her boundaries were much better now too than when she was younger. There was no way she would let Brett pull the shit she did when they were in their 20s.

Also, Paige remembered, even though things with Brett had gotten pretty toxic, there were certainly good times too. Paige had enjoyed Jeff’s steady calmness, but he was also a bit...unexciting. She had to admit that it was often Brett she pictured when she and Jeff were in bed together.

Brett grabbing and pulling her hair.

Brett teasing her pussy until she finally, finally cried.

Brett reminding her over and over again that she was nothing but Brett’s helpless, brainwashed toy.

Paige even still had some of the videos of their sessions- some private and some that they sold online for some extra money. She had shown Jeff these at one point early in their marriage but his reaction had been…less than enthused. After that, she had kept the videos to herself- as a sexy, slightly shameful secret for when she really needed to get herself off.

So- yes. Even though she had sworn not to make contact with Brett a million times, she ultimately accepted her friend request.

Almost immediately after accepting, Brett had messaged her. They started to chat.

In a way, it was like old times. The good part of old times. Their rapport, even over text, was still electric. They quickly caught up on their lives. Paige told Brett about her marriage and divorce and her job as a gallery owner. Brett had somehow managed to go legit and was a well-regarding hypnotherapist now- apparently either she had managed to hide her porn past from her clients and colleagues or they just didn’t care. She had broken up with her long-term girlfriend a few months ago but had a pretty cute dog as a companion.

After a few days of chatting, Brett had suggested that they meet up for dinner at her new house in the city to catch up in-person.

Paige had felt some reservations, but tried to ignore them. She reminded herself that she was working on being more open. Brett had been nothing but kind and thoughtful since they reconnected and had not even hinted at their past problems. Paige also had a much stronger sense of herself now than she had when she was younger. There were so many ways that Brett had tried to manipulate her previously that definitely wouldn’t work on her now. If Brett DID try anything, Paige knew that she could just leave.

And when she showed up for dinner, Brett hadn’t tried anything. Paige listened for any tell-tale changes in her words or voice as she showed her around her huge new house but- nope, Brett was just making jokes about decorating. (Hypnotherapy must be paying WELL these days, Paige noted to herself.) She also hadn’t tried anything over dinner. It didn’t hurt that she was just as handsome as Paige had remembered her. In fact, things felt so comfortable that Paige let herself have a glass of wine. Even then, Brett remained perfectly respectful. As Paige prepared to go, she let Brett escort her to the door and help her put on her coat.

See? She told herself. This was fine. She felt ashamed that she had assumed that Brett would still be the same person she was when they were kids. She had under-

est-

im-

maaaaaaaa..

Darkness.

-------------------------

Paige woke up.

At first she was confused. She was sitting in a chair in a small dark space. She tried to move her hands and feet, but was unsurprised when she noted that they were tied tight. She turned her head to look around and saw Brett, lurking and smiling smugly at her from her corner.

“Up already, huh?” she asked. She rose from her chair. “Good- I thought I had gone a little too heavy on the dose.”

People never changed, thought Paige. “Fuck you,” she spat. “Let me go.”

Brett chuckled. “I mean- clearly I’m not going to, right? I know you feel like you have to say that, but…”

“I’m not playing with you, Brett,” said Paige. “I’m not stupid. I told my friend to expect me home in exactly three hours. I’m supposed to check in with her that I’m safe.”

“Or, what? She’ll call the cops?” Brett asked. “I’d bet she waits until at least tomorrow morning before that happens. And by that time, you’ll be much happier to tell them that you just fell for my considerable charms again and decided to stay the night. That you were too….distracted to text.” She grinned.

Brett walked over to the chair and started stroking Paige’s hair. “Besides,” she murmured, “I very much doubt that strong, independent Paige actually asked anyone for help. You haven’t changed THAT much. You also,” she continued, “have been telling me all about how lonely and isolated you’ve been feeling. That’s why you accepted my request in the first place, isn’t it?”

Paige sputtered. “I didn’t say anything about…”

“You didn’t have to say it explicitly,” said Brett. “I can read you pretty well. And you’re still so easy to lead with little questions and insinuations- you’re so responsive to those. You never quite realize all the information that you’re giving to me, do you? Especially when a part of you wants SO much to cooperate...”

Paige felt confused. Was that true?

“I-”

“QUIET, TOY!” Brett growled suddenly in her ear.

Paige felt her words stop. Her thoughts sputtered and silenced.

Wait, no! she thought after a second of quiet. She found her voice. “I’m not 25 anymore, Brett! I’m not going to play along with your little kink games the way I did….”

Brett yanked her hair.

Oh!

Please! Paige’s traitorous mind whispered.

No! she firmly commanded herself. Out loud, she yelled “STOP IT!”

In response, Brett muffled her mouth with her hand. The hand was quickly and smoothly replaced with a gag before Paige could even think to resist it.

Paige tried to kick her with what little slack there was in the ropes.

She missed.

She felt Brett’s breath near her ear before even hearing the sound of her voice. (Her hypnotist voice, Paige’s mind eagerly reminded her.) “Now Paige,” it cooed, “you know this doesn’t have to be difficult for either of us. You remember, right? You’re already mine, deep down. All you need to do is relax and remember your place.”

There was a clicking sound. A screen lowered right in front of her face. Paige instinctively tried to move her head but Brett effortlessly held it in place.

On the screen, Paige expected to see a spiral or some other graphic but- no. It was one of their old videos. One she had kept in that secret file on her computer away from her husband.

A resistance play scene.

Fuck, she thought.

Brett must have seen her expression. (Brett saw everything.) “You remember this one, don’t you? It feels good to give in sometimes, but it also feels good to fight, doesn’t it? That’s Ok. I’ve got you. You know I won’t let you fail. You can fight just as much as you need to exhaust yourself for me. “

On the screen, a younger Paige was fighting. She was trying to move her head away from Brett’s grasp on her hair but- she was already losing. Brett was talking about how good it felt to give in…

“You know you inevitably give in to me, don’t you?” said the voice in her ear. “Such a good toy. So fun to wind you up and let you go. You’re weakening now, though. Can’t you see it?”

Paige’s mirror image on screen was already starting to blink more heavily. Paige remembered exactly how that felt. She tried in vain to keep her own eyes from blinking in response.

Another screen lowered, this one a little more to her right. As the first screen continued to show her failing to resist Brett��s words, the second showed her looking rapturously up into Brett’s eyes. “Weak and helpless,” her voice repeated over and over again, dreamily. “Weak and helpless.” Her face was slack and peaceful.

Weak and helpless, Brett’s mind echoed. She remembered. She knew how good it felt to be weak and helpless for Brett. She began to feel a bit floaty. Brett’s voice continued in the background reminding her of how blissful it was to relax and give in.

She absently turned her head to the other side but- there was already another video playing there. This one was showing her moaning while eating Brett’s pussy. The wet, licking sounds were highlighted on the soundtrack along with Brett’s voice praising her. She told her over and over what a good, brainwashed toy she was.

Paige felt those old familiar waves of pleasure- an old conditioned response to being praised.

More screens were lowered and all of a sudden Paige was surrounded. By Brett’s voice, commanding her and hypnotizing her and reminding her of how good that felt. Of her own voice, panting and moaning and reciting mantras of obedience over and over. Of images of herself looking blissful and used and utterly gone. They were beginning to feel less and less like memories and more and more immediate.

Present.

Inevitable.

She closed her eyes but somehow that made the effects even more powerful. Brett’s voice was everywhere. Her voice was everywhere. Voices saying to submit. Voices saying she was overwhelmed. Voices telling her to give in. Voices telling her to open her eyes.

She opened her eyes.

Paige was everywhere- submitting and being hypnotized and fucking and being fucked. One of the voices was talking about all of these mirrors- all of these images of who she was and who she would be. But which one was happening right now? Fighting and giving in? Rapturous and adoring? Blankly submissive? Being teased for hours and hours and begging to cum?

Maybe they were ALL now, the voice explained. Maybe they were all happening and happened and were going to happen. She didn’t need to know, she was told. And that was nice to not have to know.

Brett knew, she remembered/heard. Brett knew what was right, All she had to do was sit back and obey and feel.

And it was so easy to sit back and obey Brett. It felt effortless. Inevitable. She had a sense of an older Paige being unbound and kneeling at Brett’s feet but she was unsure of whether that was an image she was watching or something she was actually experiencing. Maybe it was something she was fantasizing about, lying back in her bed at home and touching herself. It didn’t matter. Toys didn’t need to think. Toys just needed to feel. Toy just needed to know that she was and had been and always WOULD be.

Always and only.

Brett’s.

Thank you to @daja-the-hypnokitten @wellgnawed and @ultinath for reading over it!

#hypnovember #hypnovember 2021 #brainwashing #f/f #butch/femme #pleasure conditioning #kinda hot if I do say so myself

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guardianofrivendell · 4 years

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I’ve Got You

Fíli x fem!reader

Requested: Yes, by me 😂, based on this post

Warnings: Jealous and worried Fili, cheeky Kíli, awkward Thorin and angst if you squint

A/N: It’s finally here! A whopping 7k (when I made the outline of the story I thought about 1.5k, 2k tops but then I added a subplot and I kept going and going...) I wrote this as a treat for myself because selflove is very important and I have no shame. Special thanks to @katethewriter for her advice, grammar check and helping me calm down when I thought this was rubbish!

A/N2: Another reminder that English isn’t my native language, so I’m sorry if it’s not as poetic as it should be. That’s the fault of my lack of decent English vocabulary.

Every quest comes with the possibility of danger, injury or even death. It was drilled into you by your parents, but that didn’t stop you from joining your two friends Fíli and Kíli on their quest to reclaim their home. It wasn’t like you had anything else to do and besides, you never went on an adventure before. How could you say no to such an opportunity? Not even the prospect of traveling with 13 male dwarves could stop you. You liked them, they liked you. This would be like one giant sleepover! There was some small protest from your future companions, mainly Thorin and Dwalin, who didn’t want to take you with them. A tiny woman like yourself on this dangerous quest? You would only slow them down. That’s what they said to you, but the main reason was they only wanted to protect you; keep you safe from all the dangers of the quest. After you asked them again and again - maybe even begged, but you’d never admit it to anyone - and you promised them you could take care of yourself and they needed your skills, and after both Fíli and Kíli had promised to keep an eye on you and keep you safe, Thorin reluctantly agreed.

The journey had only been going on for a few weeks, when the two brothers broke their promise. It was the umpteenth day of constant hiking, climbing and trudging through mud, water and dirt. Gandalf had left the company, and it had affected everyone’s mood for the worst. You kept yourself at the back of the group the entire day, feet and legs sore from the constant walking, but unwilling to say something about it. You had promised you wouldn’t be a burden, so you weren’t going to be one.

In the late afternoon you reached a gully with a rickety looking bridge. On the other side, about 100 yards from the edge was a thickly wooded forest that seemed to go on forever. You didn’t know why but it gave you the creeps. A shiver ran across your spine, making you shake your shoulders and Kíli raised an eyebrow at you. He and Fíli took turns walking next to you to keep you company, and today it was his turn. You gestured to him it was nothing, but he kept an eye on you just in case. It wasn’t like you to be this quiet and he was starting to get worried. Maybe this quest was too much for you after all. “We will cross the bridge, and take our rest for the night at the edge of the forest,” Thorin ordered. It wasn’t even near supper time yet, but the dwarven King had noticed his company was getting tired. An extra few hours of rest would do them good, and hopefully lift up their spirits. The otherwise rambunctious and loud group of dwarves were too quiet for his liking.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today, Y/N,” Fíli asked you with a worried look, noticing you had been walking slower than before. He had been trying to talk to you before, but Thorin took his constant attention. Now that they were rearranging the weight in their packs in preparation to cross the bridge - that didn’t seem like they could hold their weight, Fíli thought - he had a few minutes to himself. You smirked at him. “I could say the same thing about you, Fee.” He gave you a wide smile. When you were done repacking your bag under the watchful eye of the two brothers, you waited for further instructions from Thorin.

Dwalin had to go first, and Bombur second. If they could make it to the other side, the bridge would be safe for all of you. The bridge was in ruin, but seemed solid enough. It creaked and groaned when Dwalin slowly crossed it, and everyone thought it would break under Bombur’s weight but it surprisingly held on.

Fíli had to go next, and he looked back at you. “See you on the other side, mimûna,” he teased. (little one) You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but couldn’t stop the blood rising in your cheeks. Even though you were 4 inches taller than him, he still called you little. For a human you were on the small side, true, but what you lacked in height you’d like to think you made up for in fierceness. You hated and loved the nickname. You were the only one fortunate enough to get one - aside from his brother of course - and it made you feel important. Like you mattered.

The others of the company slowly made their way over the bridge, one by one. It took some time because they couldn’t rush, carefully taking every step, testing the remaining strength of the next log. It seemed to you the ropes of the bridge were making more noise, and most of the logs were creaking so loud you expected them to break at any moment. Every crack made you flinch. Kíli noticed your discomfort. He was about to make the crossing, but decided he would stay with you. Ori shook his head before he took Kíli’s place.

When everyone else had crossed the gully, only you and Kíli were left. “You go ahead, Kee, I’ll be right behind you,” you said to him. He watched you for a few seconds, before turning his head to the forest, where Fíli was. His brother would kick him into next week if he would let anything happen to you. “You sure?” “Yes! Go on, I’ll be fine,” you assured him.

You took a few deep breaths when Kíli was halfway down the bridge, knowing it was almost your turn. The others didn’t wait for you, all of them eager to reach the forest so they could rest their feet and have a nice hot meal. When Kíli finally reached the end, one of the logs broke off and he could barely hold himself up on the tattered rope. He jumped over the hole and landed on the edge with a thump. He immediately threw his pack aside and turned around, gesturing at you to start walking.

“Just go slow,” he yelled. I’d rather just start running and get it over with, you thought but decided against it. You carefully put one foot over the other, hands clamped over the ropes. The logs started groaning heavily under your weight and you didn’t know whether to be terrified or insulted. You decided to freeze instead. “Y/N?” Kíli asked. “It’s okay to be scared! Just look at me alright?” “I’m not scared,” you yelled back. “I just don’t trust this bridge!” Against your better judgment, you looked down. The gully seemed a lot deeper from up here! “No, look at me! Keep your eyes locked in mine, I know you want to!” Kíli laughed, his joking nature never too far gone. You did as he asked, and he guided you over the bridge one step at a time.

Kíli was relieved he had been able to calm you down. He didn’t like how the bridge moved and protested against your movements, his goal was to get you off as quickly as possible. He kept gesturing at you to keep moving, speaking encouraging words now and then. But the closer you got to the missing log, the heavier the creaks got. The wood had endured too much with a full company of dwarves with heavy loaded packs running over it moments before. He noticed your face twisting in fear.

“Hey, Y/N, don’t worry. It’s going to be okay!” It was not going to be okay, and he knew. He looked behind him, but the other members of the company were too far off except for Nori and Dori. “Throw me your bag, you’re close enough,” he said, trying to think of ways to make it safer. But he shouldn’t have asked you that. The minute you threw your pack, you placed your foot on another log for support. The log broke off under the sudden weight, and your foot fell through, sending the broken log pieces into the river below. In an attempt to keep your balance, you took a step forward with your other foot on the next log only for it to break as well.

“Y/N!” Kíli cried, his eyes wide in horror. You frantically clawed at the remaining parts of the bridge, but it all started to crumble down, taking you with it. “No!” he yelled, rushing towards the edge. His yelling alerted the rest of the company, most of them turning around to see what the fuss was about. ”What’s wrong, Kee?” Fíli yelled all the way from the front. They had reached the edge of the forest and were already busy setting up camp.

“Kíli!” Thorin yelled when he didn’t answer.

Fíli watched his brother drop to his knees, looking over the edge of the gully. Nori and Dori soon joined him, gesturing wildly to each other.

“What in Durin’s name are they doing?” Thorin asked him. “Did someone fall down?”

Fíli did a quick headcount, and to his horror he realized there was one person missing. They saw Kíli slowly lowering himself over the edge, confirming their suspicions. His first reaction was to look for you, and when he couldn’t find you, his heart sunk. “It’s Y/N...” Fíli realised in shock, “Y/N!!” He threw his pack to the side and ran back to the bridge as fast as his legs could take him, ignoring his uncle’s cries. The only thing that mattered to him at that moment was you.

In the meantime Kíli had lowered himself to the small ledge you were lucky enough to fall on. It was only a few yards and the undergrowth that was covering the side provided enough material to climb down without a rope. “Hold on, Y/N! I’m almost there,” he assured you. To his relief he saw you were still moving, and nothing seemed wrong at first sight. “I’m okay, it’s just my leg that’s stuck. These things are heavier than they seem.” Most of the broken logs had fallen into the river, but some of them fell down on the ledge with you, crushing your leg. You probably had some cuts and bruises too, but those were the least of your worries. You groaned when you tried to pull your foot from under the bridge pieces, ignoring Nori and Dori’s cries to keep still. The thing that was hurt the most though, was your pride. You had promised them you wouldn’t be a burden, that you could take care of yourself. And the first to be injured on the quest was you. You would laugh at the irony of it all if you weren’t so scared of the consequences. Thorin would probably leave you in the first town you would come across.

Kíli hopped down on the ledge and started removing the logs that crushed your leg. “How is she?” you heard someone yell. When you looked up, you saw several heads sticking out over the edge. “I’m fine!” you yelled back, irritation clear in your voice. You hated to be the center of attention. Luckily both Fíli and Kíli knew this, and Fíli took it upon himself to send everyone back to camp except for Oin. Kíli lifted the last one, and you pulled your foot towards you. He let the log drop with a thud.

“What’s the damage?” he asked with a big grin, but his eyes looked worried. You clutched your foot, it was completely numb because the log had cut off the blood flow. There was also this dull pain that started to spread in your ankle towards your foot, but you shrugged it off. “Nothing, I’m fine,” you reassured him, but Kíli didn’t buy it. “I’ll carry you, it’s a long way up,” he offered, pointing to the edge. Fíli let a rope down, so he and Oin could pull the both of you up. “I can do it myself.” “Y/N, until Oin can look at your foot I’m going to carry you whether you like it or not. I’m not taking any risks,” he said, throwing Fíli a knowing look.

He wrapped the rope around his wrist and grabbed it, giving it a small tug. He opened his other arm for you and lifted his eyebrow. “Are you coming?” You got up carefully, trying to avoid that one ankle so as to not give you away. The pain was getting worse with each passing second. Kíli wrapped his arm around your waist and told you to wrap your arm around his shoulder for support. “Oh, Fíli is going to love this,” he murmured to himself when you snuggled into his side. “What?” you asked him, not catching what he was saying. “Hold on to me as tight as you can!”

Fíli and Oin pulled the both of you up in no time. When you reached the top of the gully, Fíli took you out of his brother’s arms, wrapping an arm around your waist and under your knees. “Easy, mimûna, I’ve got you,” he cooed, planning to carry you bridal style to the makeshift campsite. Oin was already probing at your ankle but you weren’t having any of it. “I can walk, you know. Seriously, I’m fine,” you swapped Oin away. “You don’t have to baby me!” Fíli put you back on the ground, raised his hands in surrender and chuckled. “Fine, go on then.” You raised your chin and huffed. This would hurt, but you were tough. It was only about a 100 yards to the camp. You placed your injured foot first, and the minute you put your weight on it, a shooting pain shot through your ankle and leg and your knee buckled. Two strong arms caught you in time, and a low voice whispered in your ear. “You were saying?” Fíli swooped you back into his arms and carried you to camp, a grinning Kíli in his wake.

Back in camp you tried to minimize your injury, terrified Thorin wouldn’t want you in his company anymore. You reassured everyone that you were fine over and over again. Oin proved you wrong when he took off your boot and a high-pitch scream escaped your mouth. Did he have to be so brutal? A little tenderness never killed anyone, you groaned internally. Three pairs of eyes followed Oin’s every move. Every time you flinched when he hit a particular painful or sensitive spot Fíli held his breath.

Kíli patted his shoulder. “She’ll be fine.” “I know,” he smiled gratefully at his little brother, but flinched when he heard you whimper. “Careful, Fee, someone might notice,” Kíli sang teasingly when he went to sit with the others, leaving him with you and Oin. He couldn’t resist wiggling his eyebrows when he sat down on the ground next to Thorin and Balin.

Oin was in the middle of bandaging your ankle when Thorin stood up. Everyone went quiet and kept their eyes trained on him while he made his way towards you. “Her ankle is severely sprained, but not broken,” Oin began explaining, “I’ve put a bandage around it for support, but she won’t be able to walk on it for a few days I’m afraid.” This was it, you thought. For you, the quest would end here. You couldn’t walk, and if someone had to support you the entire time, you’d become the burden you were trying so hard not to be. “How far is it to the nearest village?” Thorin’s voice rang over the campsite, asking no one in particular. You closed your eyes in defeat. “You mean to leave her behind?” Bilbo asked, eyes wide. There was some protest going around in the camp, mostly from the two princes. Fíli jumped up. “We are not leaving anyone behind!” “Fíli, don’t be foolish,” Thorin snapped. Just like Kíli, he hadn’t missed the looks his nephew gave their female companion. Fíli let his heart take over to reason, a dangerous thing to do. He will understand eventually, Thorin thought. “I will carry her if I must!” “You can not carry her all the way to the Lonely Mountain,” Thorin argued. “Watch me,” Fíli threw back.

Before things could escalate, Bofur spoke up, “I’ll help.” “So will I. We’ll take turns,” Kíli quickly followed his example. “Aye!” To everyone’s surprise Dwalin rose to his full height. You’ve never really interacted much with Dwalin, since he was against you joining the company and you didn’t want to annoy him too much. So him standing up for you now, took you by surprise.

You had watched the interaction between the dwarves with a small heart. Fíli going against his Uncle, no, his King’s wishes in front of the company was unheard of, and you didn’t want to be the reason behind their falling out. “You really don’t have to do this, I-” “Nonsense,” Fíli interrupted you. “Let’s face it, Y/N, you’re one of us. And we don’t leave one of our own behind. Ever.” He looked at Thorin when he said his last word, challenging him to disagree. But to his surprise his uncle agreed with him, a tiny glint of mirth in his eyes. “So it shall be, everyone will take their turn in carrying Y/N until her ankle is cured.”

You didn’t sleep that night. At all. If it wasn’t the throbbing pain in your ankle that kept you awake, it were your neverending worries about the quest. Whoever was unlucky enough to be on “Y/N-duty”, was going to be a living target. With no free hands, they didn’t have any chance to defend themselves if they were under attack. You couldn’t live with yourself if something were to happen to anyone in the company. Fíli or Kíli in particular.

You sighed, and your eyes automatically wandered to the two sleeping princes. There was no denying that you liked them both, though each in a different way. Kíli turned into your best friend almost immediately after you met him. He liked to joke around, didn’t take everything that seriously but had your back nonetheless. You’d feel sorry for anyone who would try to harm you, almost certain that Kíli would annihilate them without a second thought. His brother Fíli was something else entirely. You joked around as well, often together with Kíli, and you knew he would go to the end of Arda for you if he had to and would also gladly destroy anyone who would even consider hurting you. But there was something else. Something you didn’t have with Kíli. Because Kíli didn’t make your cheeks flush when he changed shirts or flexed his muscles. When he rolled up his tunic sleeves and you could see the veins on his forearms your breath didn’t hitch. Your stomach didn’t flip every time he sat next to you or gave you a lopsided smile. But with Fíli, it did... Kíli stirred in his sleep, which pulled you out of your thoughts. The last thing you wanted was someone catching you staring at them. Come on, Y/N, you thought, there’s no time for self discovery. Sleep!

When the dwarves and Bilbo woke up the next morning, you were still sitting half upright against your rock, eyes wide open. Fíli rubbed his face with both hands, trying to get rid of the sleep. His eyes traveled to your figure and he frowned. It didn’t look like you had the best night. He watched you take a plate with breakfast from Ori, smiling politely but wincing when you adjusted your position. He hated to see you in pain. When Thorin announced you would take your leave, he and Kíli made their way towards you. “Ready to go?” he asked. “Well, I wanted to do my morning run before we left but I guess that’ll have to wait now,” you sighed and broke out into a broad smile when you saw his stunned face. “How do you want to do this? Do I still carry that myself?” You pointed to your pack. But Fíli didn’t want to waste any more time, seeing most of the company had already left. He scooped you into his arms like you weighed nothing, and Kíli took your pack. “Already taken care of, mimûna, do not worry,” he smiled.

Not worrying was easier said than done. Being in his arms meant that you couldn’t possibly be closer to him than you were. You had a really hard time trying to control your heartbeat, convinced Fíli could hear how it practically hammered out of your chest. If he did, he didn’t say anything about it. It was a bit awkward at first too, you didn’t know where to look. Your position allowed you to watch his face the entire time, and as much as you would want to do just that - admiring the depth of his blue eyes, the crinkles around those eyes when he laughed, his jawline and those lips, easy Y/N, get it together! - you couldn’t do that. So you kept your eyes fixed on the ground or on Kíli’s back who was walking right in front of you.

Fíli didn’t talk much, always looking ahead. Which you thought was odd because before your injury, when you walked with him he barely kept his mouth shut. Did he regret his decision?

“If- If you want to take a break, I could try and see if I can walk for a while?” you tried. He blinked rapidly with his eyes, like you just pulled him out of a daydream, and looked at you questioningly. “You don’t want me to carry you anymore?” “No, I mean… I do! But you know, I might get too heavy after a while, or… I don’t know,” you murmured the last part silently. Fíli scoffed and lifted you above his head before he snuggled you against his chest again. “I can do this all day, mimûna. You worry too much.” You felt the blush rise again. How was it possible that the nickname still had this effect on you after all this time? It took you ages and a lot of threatening before Kíli finally told you what it meant, since you didn’t know any Khuzdûl. Luckily the colouring of your cheeks went unnoticed.

After a while, the lack of sleep was starting to get to you. Fíli’s warmth combined with the gentle rocking of his footsteps made it very difficult for you to keep your eyes open. You jawned multiple times before you felt yourself slipping away. It didn’t take long before Fíli felt the weight of your head on his chest, eyes closed and your hands still in your lap. He adjusted his hold on you and shifted your body a little, so your neck would be in a better angle. Kíli looked behind him and smirked. “Were you that boring?” He didn’t react, letting his brother have his fun. If he had to admit, he found it oddly comforting to hold you this close, knowing he was the one who was protecting you. The words of his Uncle suddenly came to mind, and his mood changed. For some reason he didn’t look forward to you being in someone else’s arms.

When the sun was just about set, Thorin made the company halt for the night. He didn’t let them take a break during the day, not even for lunch, so to say everyone was relieved was an understatement. Everyone, except Fíli. If he was honest, he liked to have you in his arms and was rather reluctant to let you go.

You had only just woken up a few moments before and were still a bit groggy. While you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, Fíli lowered you gently to the ground and let himself fall down next to you. “Thank you,” you muttered with a small smile and he chuckled. You were too adorable when you were sleepy. “Anytime, mimûna.” “How many times do I have to tell you! I’m taller than you…” you laughed, shoving his arm playfully. “You need to think of a new nickname!” The both of you looked up when Kíli dropped your pack at your feet. “Your luggage, my lady,” he greeted you, doing an exaggerated curtsy. You rolled your eyes. “I’m not calling you a lord, Kee. Forget it.” “Of course not,” he smirked, opening his arms and puffing his chest. “Because I’m a prince!” “Prince or not, you can go and wet this cloth for Y/N’s ankle,” Oin appeared behind him, handing him a large piece of fabric before he turned his attention to you. “Let’s take a look at that ankle of yours, okay lass?”

When he took the bandage of your ankle, you heard Fíli suck in a breath. Your ankle was twice the normal size, a dark almost black bruise going from your foot to halfway up your leg. “Y/N…” Fíli breathed, eyes full of worry. “When Kíli gets back, we can take care of the swelling,” Oin tried to comfort you, although you had the impression he was saying it more for Fíli’s sake than yours.

By the time Kíli came back with the cloth, you were eating dinner and everyone had come to check on you at least twice. Fíli hadn’t left your side. Their kindness didn’t surprise you - after all they had been nothing but kind to you in the past. But it still warmed your heart. “Took you long enough,” Oin said, taking over the wet cloth. “It took me a while to find a river and I-”, he said, his voice caught in his throat when he saw your ankle. Just like his brother, he looked at you with worried eyes. “And I uhm, I had to find something to carry water back here. When the cloth turns warm, you can cool it down again.” “Good thinking, lad,” Oin complimented him. “You went through all of that trouble for me?” Kíli looked at you, and winked. “Anything for you, Y/N.” He didn’t miss the hard look his brother threw him.

Oin placed the cold, wet cloth on your ankle and you sighed contentedly. “Feels good?” Fíli asked. You hummed, eyes closed. “Leave it until it turns warm. I’ll come back later to check on you,” Oin instructed, and he went back to the other side of camp to finish his dinner. Kíli sat down next to his brother, and elbowed his side. “Heard that? I made her feel good,” he whispered. The others all looked up when Fíli smacked the back of his brother’s head, chuckling at their antics. “The future pride of Erebor,” Dwalin grumbled, shaking his head.

The next day it was Kíli’s turn to carry you, much to the barely hidden annoyance of his brother. In his opinion, Kíli was getting a little too comfortable with you in his arms... Fíli was walking at the front of the group again, right behind Dwalin and Thorin. He would much rather have walked at the back with you, but his uncle had insisted he’d stay at his side. But even from up there he could hear the laughter and the giggles all too clearly. It stung, hearing how you were enjoying yourself at the expense of his brother. He hadn’t been able to spend as much time with you as he would have wanted yesterday, since you were asleep most of the time. It did however give him plenty of time to think about how he felt about you… There was no denying he felt something. He just hadn’t decided what it was exactly. At one moment when he looked behind him to check on you, he saw Kíli tossing you up a bit which made you squeal. “Kíli!” he yelled before he could stop himself. All eyes turned to him, including yours. Fíli scratched the back of his neck. “Just… be careful, alright?” “Don’t worry brother, she’s safe with me,” he said, hugging you closer. “I won’t let her fall.” He only grunted in response, before he turned around and stomped past Thorin and Dwalin, taking the lead. “What?” Kíli grinned when you smacked his chest. “Be nice to your brother.” “Oh trust me, I’m doing him a great favor…”

The following day after Oin rebandaged your ankle - which was getting a little better with the swelling almost gone, the bruise already turning purple at the edges - Fíli walked towards you with the full intention of spending the entire day with you. He grabbed your pack and threw it on his back alongside his own. He’d probably regret that by the end of the day, but he wanted to prove something. “Fee, that’s too much! You can’t carry me and my pack!” you gasped. “That is why Bofur will take over today,” Thorin announced. Bofur was standing next to him, beaming at you. “Uncle, that will not be necessary, I’ve got it,” Fíli insisted. “It’s not open for discussion.” You looked at Fíli apologetically. If you were honest, you preferred to be carried by him - for no particular reason at all - but spending the day with Bofur wouldn’t be that bad either. Fíli didn’t handle it that well though, he went to the others, but not before he made Bofur promise him to be careful with you.

“Alright, lass?” Bofur smiled at you, before he took you in his arms. He wasn’t as bulky as Fíli or Kíli, but he scooped you up with as little effort as they did. He entertained you with stories and songs, teaching you a few of the songs he knew but considering the odd lyrics you suspected he just made them up as he went. Not that you minded, it was very entertaining. You kept an eye on Fíli, but to your disappointment he never checked on you. He kept his gaze straight ahead, talking to Thorin once in a while but unlike yesterday with Kíli, he didn’t turn around every few minutes. Fíli’s odd behavior certainly didn’t improve the following days when you were carried by Dwalin, Gloin and Thorin. Yes… Thorin. Dwalin you could handle… a little. It was a very quiet day but not in an awkward way, he just didn’t talk much and you kept your mouth shut. Unlike the others he didn’t carry you bridal style, but on one arm, which you certainly didn’t mind. How quiet your day with Dwalin was, the louder it was with Gloin. You hadn’t had a chance to really talk to him before so he took the opportunity with both hands to talk all about his lovely wife and son, Gimli. You didn’t mind really, it took your attention away from Fíli who was still acting weird.

But then Thorin himself announced he would also take his turn. You almost said you could try and stumble or hop on one leg or something to avoid what surely would be a very, very awkward day, but decided to keep your mouth shut. The thing was, while you were in Thorin’s arms - who seemed almost as uncomfortable as you were - you were also close to Fíli, since he walked next to him. You tried to talk to him a few times, but the only responses you got were grunts, hums or a simple nod. ‘Your’ kind and cheerful Fíli was gone. Instead there was a moody, grumpy person who apparently had decided to avoid or ignore you at best. At one point you looked at Thorin in a silent question, who just shrugged his shoulders. The movement made your feet bump against each other, and you hissed. This seemed to break Fíli’s walls, because worry fell over his face instantly and he asked if you were alright, to which you assured him you were. Thorin apologized, and everything went quiet again. You couldn’t wait for the day to be over.

You decided to talk to Kíli about it. If anyone would know what was bothering him, it would be his little brother. When you were sitting around the fire, moments before everyone would start getting ready to sleep, you hobbled towards Kíli. Your ankle wasn’t cured yet, but you could lean on your toes a bit without hurting too much. It wasn’t good enough to walk on your own - certainly not for an entire day and at the pace the company held - but it made you a little less dependent on others. Fíli saw you trying to take a few steps. His joy of seeing you up was short-lived when he saw you were making your way towards Kíli. Kíli on the other hand was happy to see you and patted the space next to him. He held your hands for support when you lowered yourself to the ground. “Tell me, to what do I owe your visit?” “Your brother,” you sighed. Kíli quirked an eyebrow. He had expected this moment to come, but not so soon. “Go on,” he urged you. “Do you know what’s bothering him? He’s acting weird…” Kíli gave you a look. “Okay, weirder,” you laughed. “He’s ignoring me and that’s not like him.” He noticed Fíli was watching the both of you like a hawk from the other side of camp, his expression unreadable but he knew better. He decided to have a little fun... Kíli threw his arm around you and pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head. That’s when Fíli lost it. He shot up and murmured something about going for a walk, leaving the campsite. “See? That’s what I mean,” you told him. Kíli just smiled, this was going perfectly! “Don’t worry, Y/N. He gets like that sometimes. Heir stuff, you know.” He rubbed your back soothingly. “He’ll come around.” “I hope you’re right…”

Fíli was pacing through the forest, up and down the same path over and over again in an attempt to keep himself from bursting out. He had been watching you interact with his brother, a strange feeling burning in his chest. This wasn’t just friendship anymore. How he couldn’t see you in another dwarf’s arms, the protectiveness he felt over you, the way you made him feel just by meeting his eyes… There was no use in denying it any longer. He was absolutely smitten by you. You were his One. That feeling he had been fighting against for the past couple of days finally had a name. Jealousy. And right now, he was jealous of his own brother. Kíli had met his burning gaze and he had tried to silently warn his younger brother. But instead of taking some distance from you like Fíli wanted him to, that cheeky little bastard threw his arm around you and pulled you against his side. He even had the nerve to kiss your hair! That was when he couldn’t take it anymore and left the camp. He needed to cool down before he would do or say something he’ll regret later. He slumped against a tree, closing his eyes in defeat. Because the worst thing of all was that you didn’t seem to mind the attention. When he thought about it, you always seemed to gravitate more towards Kíli. His brother could make you laugh like no other, and although he absolutely loved how your laugh traveled over the fields or mountains like the tune of a songbird, he wished he was the one to make you laugh like that.

He wasn’t going to be the one to stand in the way of your happiness. If you wanted his brother, then he would accept that. Your happiness was his top priority. Even if that meant he was going to be miserable for the rest of his life…

When Fíli returned to the camp, everyone was asleep in their bedrolls. His eyes automatically searched for your sleeping figure. To his surprise you were still up, struggling with the bandage of your ankle. “You need some help?” You were startled by his voice breaking the silence. You’d seen him entering the campsite, but you didn’t expect him to come and talk to you. “I’m just trying to wrap it back up for the night, I didn’t want to bother Oin,” you explained, followed by a frustrated sigh. “But this is a lot harder than I thought.” He sat on the ground in front of you, legs crossed.

“Allow me,” he smiled. He lifted your foot and placed it in his lap. Without a word he took the bandage out of your hand and started wrapping up your ankle. His calloused hands worked quickly, never hurting you once. His touch was so light you could hardly feel it. And yet every time his fingers touched you, it felt like he burned your skin. Just like that day you were in his arms, you had a hard time keeping yourself together. By the time he was finished, you were a complete mess.

“Are you alright, mimûna? I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?” Oh no, you did the exact opposite, you thought. You just shook your head, not trusting your voice. The light of the campfire lit up his face, the flames reflecting in his eyes, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing. In and out, Y/N… in and out. “Look, I need to apologize for my behavior. I wasn’t being fair to you,” Fíli began. He carefully placed your foot back and took both of your hands in his. You swallowed heavily. Was this the moment you had been waiting for? Were you getting the love declaration you so desperately wanted to hear?

“I let my own feelings take the upper hand,” he said and your heart stopped. This was it… Fíli continued, “I was being selfish. But no more…” You felt yourself getting lighter with each word he spoke, slowly leaning in with your eyes closed for what surely would be the happiest moment of your life. Well… so far of course. “Your happiness is what matters most to me. And if it leads you to my brother, I will not stand in your way.” Wait… what? You opened your eyes again, shocked at his words. “W-what do you mean?” you asked, eyes wide. This was not going like you expected. At all. “I now know who your heart belongs to, Y/N,” he spoke softly, and you could see the hurt in his eyes. “And even though I wish with everything I’ve got that it wasn’t so, I am happy for my brother.”

You looked at him, mouth agape, absolutely stunned. Your laugh boomed over the campsite, waking up some of the company but neither of you noticed, too engrossed in your own conversation. “Now why in Durin’s name would you say that?” Fíli soon matched your stunned expression. One because you had used a Dwarven expression like it was your own, and second because... what? “Because you like my brother…?” “No silly,” you laughed. “I like you!” “You’re not in love with Kíli?” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “No! Where did you even get that idea?”

Someone cleared his throat, and the both of you looked behind you. Kíli stood there with the biggest grin on his face, hands in his pockets. “I might have something to do with that… I may or may not have tried to make you jealous on purpose.” He was obviously very pleased with himself; his little plan had worked so well. Fíli shot up from his place and Kíli took a few steps back. “Hey, hey, don’t look at me like that. You needed a nudge!”

But then Fíli seemed to remember what you said moments before. He turned so fast, his mustache beads smacked against his cheek. “Wait… you like me?” You nodded. A big smile appeared on his face. “Not Kíli? Me?” “Yes! Now will you please come back here so I can kiss you? I’m kind of stuck here,” you smiled, pointing at your ankle.

Now it was Fíli’s turn to get all red. He hurried back to your side, and lifted you in his arms like he had done a few days before. Only now he wasn’t planning on letting you go ever again. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your forehead against his. “Now how about that kiss,” you whispered. His lips ghosted yours for a second before you lost your patience and tugged at his hair. It was a sweet and gentle kiss, and he drew away way too soon for your liking. “Always the gentleman,” you sighed, cupping his face and sneaking another short kiss because you couldn’t help yourself. “We have plenty of time, kurduwê,” he laughed. “Kurduwê? That’s new. What happened to mimûna?” “You wanted a new nickname, didn’t you?”

You turned to Kili, who was watching the both of you with a smile. “What does it mean?” “Kurduwê means ‘my heart’,” Fíli answered. “I wasn’t asking you,” you laughed. “But I do like this one better.” You gave him another kiss. Kíli groaned. “Guys, please don’t make me regret this…” The three of you laughed at that, and you promised him you would try to behave yourself.

The others finally started cheering, letting you know they had heard the whole thing. Congratulations were given and Oin complimented Fíli on his excellent bandaging skills, after he checked your ankle. The company did give Fíli a hard time about his jealousy, and Kíli couldn’t help but contribute. “Oh, and Fíli?” Kíli said to his brother, smacking his shoulder a few times in a brotherly way. “Hmm?” “It’s still my turn to carry Y/N tomorrow.” Permanent taglist: @roosliefje

A/N: There you go! Please let me know what you think of it with a reblog or a comment, heck, send me an ask or a dm and we’ll talk about this fic! Why don’t we talk about all the possible endings I wrote for this one, before I threw them all out and wrote what you just read?

#fili x reader #fili durin #fili and kili #fili imagine #fili x you #jealous!fili #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #lotr fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #lotr imagine #the hobbit imagine #fili oneshot #fili friday #guardianofrivendell

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ppersonna · 4 years

Text

tempestuous - kth | m

tem·pes·tu·ous - adjective - characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion

↳ summary- There’s no one who riles you up more than Kim Taehyung, your best friend’s brother. He knows exactly how to make you fly off the handle.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre- smut, minor angst i guess in the form of fighting, this is one big pile of smut, there’s some fluff too

↳ warnings- yikes where to begin. angry sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like dis), slapping, spanking, pain kink, dom/sub elements, facefucking, really rough sex, finger sucking, derogatory names, uhhh name calling, hate sex, tae is fuckin nasty yall im thriving

↳ a/n- I HAD TO REUPLOAD bc tumblr sucks lol well folks. here we are. i was given a prompt by @ladyartemesia so i blame her. as for tae, he really came for me this week and completely wrecked me, love that for me. i really popped off here and it’s only edited by me so i’m SORRY if there’s a lot of mistakes. fun fact i actually wrote almost 10k of another version of this but it frustrated me so badly i scrapped it lmao 🤡 HERE WE GO! Enjoy! feel free to send in your requests and i promise to try and get it done for you!

Kim Taehyung could only be described in a few words.

Infuriating, bothersome, vexing.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, suave.

Absolutely, inherently maddening.

And you hate how much you absolutely melt underneath his gaze, the way your heart leaps into your throat with a single word. Your body, the ultimate betrayer, opens up to him as your brain screams to abort, reverse, go back to start and do not pass go.

Kim Taehyung is not just the bane of your existence, no. He’s the little brother of your best friend, Kim Namjoon. Joonie had been in your life since you were in first grade and he in second. Taehyung was your age, but you hit it off with the older boy and haven’t separated since. Your mothers joked that you would get married one day and continue on the Kim line. Until they found out that Namjoon was 1) bisexual and 2) hopelessly in love with, ironically, a man named Kim Seokjin. He reasoned to his parents that they would at least carry on the Kim name.

Where Namjoon was sweet, caring, and deeply compassionate towards you, Taehyung was his alter. Taehyung was brash, cocky and relished in watching you squirm, whether it be out of fury or the god forsaken sexual tension. All growing up, he was the one to pull your pigtails, trip you into puddles of mud, and tease you in front of your friends. Namjoon, ever the faithful companion, was always there to pick up the pieces of what Taehyung broke.

It’s been that way with Taehyung ever since. A constant tug of war with each other, both unwilling to give a single inch to the opponent.

Your relationship with Namjoon remained steadfast as ever. Namjoon eventually moved in with his now-husband, Seokjin, who easily settled into your life as an additional partner in crime. You spent most of your days and nights settled into the couch, snuggled somehow in between or next to one of the two men you cherished most. You had the two best friends you could ask for and a happy life, blissfully Taehyung-free.

Until it wasn’t.

A loud knock wakes you from an unexpected nap on Namjoon’s couch. Your eyes crack open against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows. It takes a moment to gather your surroundings. You recognize that you’re in Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, and judging by the silence, you’re definitely alone there. As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up the time. 5:34 pm. Well, shit. You remember eating brunch and drinking mimosas at noon with your best friends and then lying on the couch to watch Netflix. How had you fallen asleep for five hours? How did you not wake? What the fuck did Jin put in his mimosas?

The knock is insistent again, louder this time.

“Joon! Jin! it’s me! Open up!”

The voice sounds familiar in your sleep-addled mind, but not quite enough to pinpoint it. You push your limp body off the couch and wince at the feeling of sore muscles. Couch sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be once you’re past the age of 25.

“Sorry, Namjoon isn’t here-,” You open the door to explain to the guest and you’re cut off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You rub at your sleepy eyes and allow your vision to focus, only to feel your blood stand still in your veins.

Kim Taehyung. Of fucking course.

“What do you mean, why am I here? I’m always here,” you tut as you fold your arms to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, two suitcases clutched in each. Who the fuck carries 4 suitcases up three flights of stairs? Kim annoying ass Taehyung does, apparently.

“I’m moving in.” He pushes past you and into the living room.

Your mouth gapes open. Namjoon certainly didn’t tell you this. Taehyung looks back at chuckles at your reaction.

“I’m guessing your best friend didn’t tell you the happy news?”

You shut your mouth, quickly jumping back into composure. “No, he failed to mention that,” you sniff. “I thought you lived with your girlfriend in Gangnam? What was her name? Rose or whatever?”

Tae stiffens, just slightly for a moment, before he plasters back on the bravado. “Obviously not anymore. We broke up, she kept the apartment. Got tired of moping at my mom’s house and I told Namjoon I wanted to come back to the city.”

You feel a slight tug at your stomach, guilt, perhaps? You clear your throat. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He laughs as he sits on the couch, instantly throwing his feet onto the coffee table, like a heathen. “No, you’re not.”

“What do you mean, no I’m not? God, sorry for being polite!”

This, you reason, is why you can’t sustain longer than 5 minutes of civilized conversation with your best friend’s younger brother. He’s impossible.

He just smirks, and you know he loves the rise he gets out of you.

“Because I know you, and I know you don’t give a fuck about my love life.”

Au contraire. If only he knew just how much you gave a fuck.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nice to you!” you nearly stamp your foot in frustration but hold yourself back. That would be too good of ammo for him to use against you.

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesces. “Whatever helps you feel you’re a good person.”

You’re seeing red and you know you want to continue screaming at him but you will not stoop to his level.

“Christ, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re still an asshole,” you say as you grab your keys and shoes. “And also, Jin will kill you if he sees your feet on his coffee table.”

You whip yourself around and open the door to leave and hear him call over your shoulder.

“Good to see you too, doll! Love the hairstyle, by the way.”

You close the door with a growl leaving your throat. The absolute audacity of that man.

You stomp towards the elevator to take yourself to the ground level, when you catch your reflection in the shiny metal. Your hair is in what you can only lovingly call a complete hornet’s nest. It’s ratted and sticking out in places and you feel your cheeks burn. Your first reintroduction with Taehyung is with a fight AND with you looking like a fool.

This would not do. No, sir.

“Kim Namjoon!” you shriek into your cell phone. You’re awkwardly pressing it against your ear with your shoulder as you walk out of the convenience store under your apartment building with 3 bottles of soju and a six-pack of beer. You needed to drown your shame and sorrow, and fast.

“Hello, love of my life and moon of my stars,” your best friend replies and you can hear Seokjin chuckle in the background.

“No!” You chide, already cracking a beer open as you storm into your apartment building. “Don’t you Khal Drogo me, mister! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your fucking asshole brother was moving in with you?!”

Namjoon is silent and you can tell he’s wincing on the other end of the phone. “Oops?” He offers.

“Yeah, big oops! A heads up would have been nice! Like, ‘hey best friend, your worst enemy of all time is moving in today. Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep on my couch and wake up looking like Frankenstein’s ugly wife. Oh, and also my handsome boyfriend and I will just happen to not be there when he arrives’.”

By this time, you can tell Namjoon has put you on speakerphone because you can hear their rich laughter loud and clear. Rude bitches.

You stab your key code into your door and lock yourself in, chugging as much of the beer as you could handle.

“At least, even in her rants she thinks I’m handsome,” Jin gloats.

“I’m sorry babe,” Namjoon sighs as he finally calms down. “I didn’t know he would be there today. I just found out about it last night.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, the annoying pit in your stomach feeling simultaneously guilty that he went through a breakup, unbridled joy that something brought him down a peg, and just a dash of excitement that he’s single now.

You let out a breath. “It’s okay, Joon. It just surprised me to see him.”

Jin butts in, “And because you have a big, fat, unresolved crush on him.”

“Jin!” You admonish. The couple laughs again and you roll your eyes, asking yourself why you put up with the two. “I do not!”

They both hum a non-committal answer, implying they don’t believe you in the slightest.

“Whatever. What are you guys doing, anyway?”

“We just got home from shopping. God, Jin looked so good in these jeans he tried on. I was actually just about to suck his coc-,”

“Kim Namjoon, do not finish that sentence! I do not wish to hear it!” You try to remain firm, but dissolve into giggles with the pair.

You could never stay mad at Namjoon long, even if his brother was the devil incarnate.

“Darling,” Jin calls through the phone. “I still expect to see you at our place tonight for our sleepover.”

Christ, you had forgotten all about your scheduled sleepover night. It was tradition and one of your favorite parts of your friendship with the couple. Jin, a literal chef, prepared a five star meal along with dessert for you while you binge watched Netflix and talked incessantly.

But you also usually slept in their spare bedroom. The exact one that Taehyung would be occupying.

“Fuck, while he’s there?”

“Oh suck it up,” Jin chides, like he’s your mother. “He’s probably not even going to leave his room. You’re not getting out of this. I’m making strawberry cheesecake.”

Your mouth waters at the idea of Jin’s famous cheesecake.

“Fine, but I get to lick the bowl and not Namjoon. Those are my terms.”

Namjoon squawked in defiance as Jin laughed. “I agree to your terms. Be at our place by 8.”

As you hung up the phone, you checked the time. 6:40. God, he hadn’t left you with much time to get ready, did he?

And you definitely needed to get ready. There was no way you were entering a room where Kim Taehyung exists looking like booboo the fool, not again.

Your fingers press the 6 digit passcode to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, arms heavy laden with your bag of toiletries and pajamas, and a bag full of wine.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you toe off your shoes and slide into the combined kitchen and living room.

You receive no reply, but greeted with the amused face of none other than the object of your filthiest dreams, Taehyung.

“Pet names already? We’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?” He asks you as he lounges at the kitchen table. He watches you open the fridge to set the wine, as comfortable in their home as you are in yours.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “Where’s your brother?”

Tae seemed absolutely tickled by your disgruntlement. “I think they mentioned something about taking a shower. That was 20 minutes ago, though.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Those fucking horn dogs act as if they’re still newlyweds. We’ll be waiting awhile.”

You tug off your sweater, leaving you to remain in a fitted tank top and yoga pants. You tried to maintain a comfortable look as you dressed for the evening, while keeping in mind which leggings hugged your ass and showed off your toned thighs, and a tank top that dipped low to your cleavage. Okay, so maybe you had ulterior motives. You wanted to make up for your dreadful appearance earlier and make him squirm, payback for the years of him doing it to you.

You watch him as he lets his eyes roam your body, eying you like he wants to ravage you completely. You feel victorious… and also turned on. Fuck, you played yourself.

You flop onto the couch in a huff and Tae snorts before joining you.

“What’s so funny?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” his smile feigns innocence. “I’m not allowed to laugh?”

You sniff in annoyance, not eager to fall for his tricks. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, your highness.” Sarcasm drips from your voice and Tae finds it even more humorous.

“I see you’re still a sassy bitch.”

You gasp, audibly startled by his language and rise from the couch, fists clenched.

“I see you’re still a conceited dick!”

He rises to meet you where you stand, eyes boring into your own with his stupid sexy grin on his face. “I see you’re still not one to back down from a fight.”

You step closer, close enough to feel his breath on your face. Idly, you note it smells like peppermint and you move closer on reflex.

“Yeah? I see you’re still not one to avoid starting a fight in the first place!” you huff.

“Oh, I started it?”

“Yeah, you started it! You called me a bitch!”

You can’t believe this is happening. You feel as if you’re 6 again and fighting with him over a toy.

“A sassy bitch, actually,” he corrects, taking another step forward, bodies touching.

“Fuck you!”

“Only if you say please,” he quips before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours in a scorching hot kiss.

There’s not even a moment of hesitation on your end, immediately pulling him even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth. Your body reacts to his instantly, as if it’s wired to respond to him and him only. Your mind was blank of anything except Tae, only Tae please, and you acted purely on instinct alone. And instinct was pulling him closer and begging, more, anything he could give.

The sound of laughter coming from the hallway pulls you apart, neither of you wanting to get caught by Namjoon or Jin. You stare at him, his lips are cherry red and slightly swollen and the image burns into your retinas. He has such pretty lips after you’ve kissed him.

“Oh hey! What’s going on here?” Namjoon asks as he notices the intense eye-battle you’re engaged in with his younger brother.

It shakes you out of the spell, eye contact broken and hypnosis halted.

“Just, errrr,” you falter to find the right words to explain the situation.

“Just getting reacquainted.” Tae sounds completely unaffected, as if the passionate kiss you shared with him seconds ago was but a distant memory. Asshole.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t thrown anything at each other yet,” Jin laughs. “Or thrown yourselves at each other.”

Both you and Taehyung whip to look directly at Jin.

“Her!?” Tae is incredulous. “Gross.”

You’ll never admit out loud that his words wound you.

“You’re an asshole, Taehyung,” you punctuate your words by turning away from him and towards Namjoon, who appears amused as ever.

“Ah, I love when my best friend and my little brother are screaming at each other. Feels like old times. Can one of you cry now to complete the moment?”

Taehyung grumbles under his breath, something you can’t catch, and stalks off to his room. The slam of his door reverberates in the apartment and Jin jumps and turns to yell down the hall at his brother-in-law.

“Yah! Don’t break my apartment! I still owe money on this!”

Despite Taehyung’s appearance every so often in the kitchen or living room, the rest of the night goes on with no annoying disturbances.

Jin spoils you and his husband with expensive food, and the best cheesecake you’ve ever eaten in your life. Plus, you’re given the bowl to lick clean despite a desperately adorable pout from Namjoon you were sure would persuade Jin.

You’re settled on the couch, snuggling in the middle of the couple as an action movie flickers across the big screen tv. Truthfully, you haven’t paid attention to a single thing happening, your thoughts entirely too absorbed in Taehyung and that deliciously infuriating kiss.

Why did he do it? You couldn’t comprehend his reasoning. Perhaps he was doing it to piss you off. He’s never angered you with that level of intimacy before, but you didn’t put it past him.

You’re surprised when the credits of the movie start rolling and Jin and Namjoon fake loud yawns.

“Oh man, I’m beat,” Namjoon lies.

Jin is quick to join. “Me too, I think I’ll pass out the moment I hit the pillow.”

You roll your eyes at the men. “Will you two please go fuck already, I know that’s what you’re going to do.”

Namjoon blanches, but Jin laughs and kisses your cheek. “Ah, my smart, beautiful and chaotic child,” he coos. He leans in to your ear, voice low to keep his husband from listening. “I don’t think I’m the only one in this house who’s going to get pounded into a mattress.”

He pulls back and winks at you, deftly ignores Namjoon’s confusion and sadness of being left out, and drags him to their bedroom with a loud ‘goodnight’.

You’re left to stew in your own emotions, which is never a good thing. Was the tension that obvious? You always assumed it had been one-sided, but the kiss befuddled you more than you’d like to admit.

It finally snapped in your mind, all the dots connecting. That’s why he did it.

He kissed you so you’d stew and simmer and eventually erupt, like you’re doing now. Taehyung knows you too well for your comfort.

You grab your bag of clothes and storm towards the bathroom to change, promising yourself to forget about the kiss and not give Taehyung what he wants.

Except you’re not very good at promises, especially to yourself.

You can’t say you’re excited to sleep on the couch again. While it’s a nice couch, it’s definitely not a bed and your back will pay the price tomorrow. You supposed it was better than the floor, but not by much.

After dressing in your pajamas, a purposefully picked out combination of tiny shorts and a sports bra in case Taehyung happens upon you, you return to your bed for the night in the living room.

Namjoon graciously left blankets and a pillow out for you, and you’re complaining internally about Taehyung the whole time you make yourself a spot to sleep. If it wasn’t for stupid Taehyung and his stupid existence, you’d be sleeping like a baby on the guest bed that you loved. But no, they relegated you to the couch like an animal.

Sleep was not in the cards tonight, it seems. You toss and turn and try to press at the cushions to move a lump around and get comfortable, but it’s all for naught. You’re wide awake and very, very uncomfortable. You didn’t understand how you fell asleep on this very couch earlier in the day. Maybe the mimosas you had at brunch with the couple had been helpful.

A thought crosses your mind. Alcohol. Maybe a nice glass of wine would help tuck you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. A nightcap. Of course. You were angry at yourself for not thinking of it hours ago.

You slipped out of your disagreeable bed and into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound. Jin’s beloved kitchen was also an echo chamber of noise, even the slightest sound bouncing off its walls and amplifying it through the whole house. You still remember the way you jumped five feet in the air when Jin accidentally broke a plate. It sounded like a bomb explosion.

You bite your lip as you carefully pry the cabinet of wine glasses open, careful to not even allow a squeak of a hinge. You silently beg to stay silent and not wake anyone in the house. You didn’t want to be caught drinking wine at 2 am in the dark, that’s difficult to explain without looking like an alcoholic.

With glass in hand, you tiptoe the fridge to pull out the bottle of merlot, thinking the heavy red wine would be the best to get you sleepy and quick.

You tug the cork from the bottle and pour a healthy amount into the stemware with a smile. Liquid sleep. And you had done it without making a single sound. Perfection. The smell of the alcohol permeates through your nose as you lift the glass, placing it to your lips to take a sip.

“Wine at this hour?” the unexpected voice of Taehyung echos through the kitchen, making you yelp and jolting you hard enough that you drop the hard-earned glass of wine to the tile floor, red wine splashing as the sound of glass shattering is reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck!” You screech at the intruder. Taehyung doubles over, laughing as if he’s seen nothing funnier than what just transpired. “You asshole!”

You listen past Taehyung’s incessant laughter to ensure the owners of the apartment hadn’t awoken during the ruckus. You definitely did not want to face a tired and agitated Jin to tell him you shattered one of his Tiffany crystal goblets.

Beyond Tae, the house is silent and you’re thanking whatever god is listening for keeping your best friends asleep.

The wine is everywhere, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splattered on the walls. The crystal stemware is too; it shattered with such force that you see flecks of the shrapnel in all four corners of the room.

Tae wipes a tear from his face and you square a tempestuous look at him.

“Fucking help me! You made me drop it!”

Through snorts, he replies. “I didn’t make you do anything. You did that on your own.” Although he is arguing with you, he’s gingerly stepping into the kitchen and kneeling to pick up shards of glass.

“I wouldn’t have dropped it if you had come into the room like a fucking normal person,” you grit.

He collects the glass, the delighted grin on his face now permanent. He’s relishing in your annoyance, you know he is, and it burns you from the inside out.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“You could have turned on the light! Why were you in the dark like a freak?” You’re grasping at straws, anything to pin this all on him. It would quell the fire in your belly to push it all onto him, make you feel as if you’ve won.

Taehyung levels a look at you. “And you weren’t also in the dark? Pouring a gallon of wine for yourself?”

Your cheeks flare red. Fuck, he definitely caught you there. You’re playing verbal poker with him and the hand you’re dealt falls flat compared to his royal flush. He grins, knowing he has you.

“Fuck you,” you snark, you go to insult when you’re backed into a corner.

“Ah, doll,” he winks. “We talked about that. Be careful what you wish for.”

The fire inside you is roaring to an inferno now, flames licking to your core. It’s a complicated mixture of anger and sexual energy. It’s infuriating that he’s able to make you feel every single emotion to the extreme. You hate that arguing with him turns you on, like it’s some perverse foreplay.

You moisten your lips with your tongue as you process his words, and Tae’s eyes hungrily track the appendage as it glides over your lips.

“Fuck. You.” You emphasize perfunctorily.

All thoughts of wiping up the mess are forgotten as Tae drags both you and himself off the floor and steers you to the living room, lips feverish against your own. He pushes you into the couch and tugs his shirt off, before replacing his lips to yours.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot when you’re a bitch,” he groans as he snaps the strap of your sports bra. “Seeing you get all worked up makes me so hard.”

He’s not wrong. You can see through his mesh basketball shorts that he’s sporting an impressive package, rock hard in its clothed prison.

“Yeah?” You bite at his lip.

“Hell yeah.” His hands work to the elastic band under your bust and tugs the offending material off, tits springing free as he throws it to the floor.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathes as he gets a good look at your chest.

You shake them gently, grinning as he watches them jiggle. “You like what you see?”

He smirks and pinches a nipple, wiping the coy smile off your face and turning it into a moan. “I like when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it.”

He lowers his head to the nipple he’s still pinching in his fingers, licking at it and replacing his fingers with his mouth. He’s moaning around the nipple, and you’re gasping for more. His hot mouth sucks at you, teeth nibbling and pulling it until you’re whimpering in delicious pain.

“Fuck!” He cries as he pops away from your nipple. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Your body warms at his words, arousal pooling between your legs. You’re sure that your thighs are drenched in your essence.

He slurps your neglected breast into his mouth, ensuring your nipples are equally abused. His tongue is skilled but his mouth is messy, saliva dripping all around your tit and it’s the hottest fucking sight you’ve ever seen.

He’s pulling away again and pinching both nipples with his hands simultaneously. “And you’re so fucking annoying.”

You’re pleading for more or to stop, you’re not sure. He continues.

“Mm, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re a good little bitch for me. Listening to every fucking thing I say.”

He releases your nipples, and you finally find the ability to focus again, staring directly at him.

“Oh, you think you’re that good?” you sass as you attempt to catch your breath. “Put your money where your mouth is.”

Tae grips your chin roughly, face inches away from yours with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to regret those words, baby.”

Instantly, he’s standing up and tugging his shorts down to let his cock spring free. Your brain misfires as you visually measure his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s thick and long. The bulbous head is dripping pre-cum, begging you to slurp it up.

“How about I put my money where your mouth is,” he suggests as he grabs a fistful of your hair.

He teasingly rubs his cock on your lips and cheeks, makes you whimper with need. Your tongue is sticking out, desperate for him to lay it on you.

“Already so fucking greedy,” he grunts and in one motion, directs his dick into your open mouth. “I’ll fuck your throat, yeah? Greedy bitches love getting face fucked.” He is still for a beat more, eyes searching yours for consent and you nod with his cock still in your mouth. He winks, then begins a rapid pace, his cock fucking into your mouth and throat.

You’re sure you look like a goddamn mess with saliva dripping from your mouth as Taehyung punishes your throat with his thrusts. You gag and moan around him, and he tightens his grip in your hair as you see stars.

It’s indescribable. Never have you felt such pleasure from sucking cock, but Tae commands your entire body, willing you to drip with anticipation.

“My little fuck toy, god you feel so fucking good,” he hisses. “You’re gonna swallow my cum, baby.”

His hips are stuttering, he’s close, and you’re sucking him harder, cheeks pulling in harder to vacuum him in. The pressure makes him groan out loud.

“So good, so fucking good. Get ready for your prize, baby,” his voice cuts off in a gasp, as his cock twitches violently. His legs shake and he doesn’t hold back the moans of his orgasm, gasping as he feels rope after rope spill down your hot throat.

Your big doll eyes are twinkling up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock. Taehyung is sure it’s the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his lifetime. You on your knees, subservient to him and thriving for it.

“Mmm, I like it when your mouth is full like this,” he slowly pulls out of your mouth, albeit reluctantly. “Can’t talk back to me when you’re sucking my cock like a whore.”

You smile and stick out your tongue, pleased to show him you happily accepted his cum.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos as he grips your chin again. “Did you like my cum?”

You nod, brain fried from the heat of the room.

“Use your words,” he grits and grips your jaw harder. It’s enough to shock you into compliance.

“Y-yes! Fuck, I love your cum, Tae.” Your words are breathy and raspy, throat raw from his barrage.

“I knew you would, filthy slut. Sit on the couch.” He orders and you’re quick to scurry and sit on the makeshift bed you made.

His hands are tugging down your shorts quickly. No teasing or seduction here, not now. You lift your hips, and he throws them aside. Your legs close on reflex, making him growl.

“Do not hide yourself from me.” His tone is dark and you can’t help but shiver as you open yourself up to him. You want to talk back, want to fight and bite at him, but you’re quickly losing the ability to even speak, and you’re aching for him.

“Where’s my mouthy little bitch? You’re awfully quiet. Did I finally break you?” He teases, pressing your legs upward, knees to your ears. It’s pornographic how on display you are for him, soaking wet cunt front and center.

“The great Taehyung thinks he can break me with his cock,” you mewl, mustering all the false confidence you can. You’re lying through your fucking teeth and you both know it, but you continue. “You’ll have to do more than that.”

Your pussy is quaking with need now, desperate for a single touch. His hands maintain purchase on the backs of your thighs, holding them up.

“There she is,” he bites at the flesh of your leg closest to him which makes you jerk in his hold. “Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”

He removes a hand from your thigh and you’re quick to pick up the slack, holding the thigh in place to maintain his open show of your pussy.

“Try me,” you murmur, and you’re instantly regretting your words as a harsh slap descends and lands square on your cunt.

You nearly scream, pain flooding your wanton pussy, before turning into delicious pleasure that stings and tingles right at your clit. It sizzles, and warmth blooms where his hand was.

“That’s for not believing me.” His eyes are feral and you want to bottle this memory forever.

Another slap has your legs trembling, eyes rolling back as the burn turns to a low heat. You’re dripping your wetness down onto the couch and Jin will kill you, but you don’t care.

“That was for calling me a dick,” he smirks.

Smack.

Tears spring in your eyes as the slap brings more pleasure than pain, desperately close to your edge.

“Look at you, you could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”

“F-fuck! Yes, please, I need more, please!” Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for friction and leaking out of you like a faucet. Taehyung marvels at you, legs spread so far, with a cunt weeping with arousal for more. He can’t wait to dive in there, but he’s not finished with you yet.

“More? I don’t know if you deserve more, baby, you’ve been awfully mean to me,” he tsks, breathing hot air on your clit, making you whine.

“P-please! I’m sorry!” You’re sure you will black out with how desperately you need him. You need him more than you need oxygen.

“Beg.”

You’re quick to submit. Thoughts of fighting back are long gone, you’re his wanton little slut now.

“Please, please! Pleaseeeee, make me cum! I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

You’re nodding wildly, gazing at him with desperate, watery eyes.

“Anything, I need you so f-fucking bad it hurts!”

By the time the words leave your lips, he’s thrusting two fingers into your cunt viciously, fingering you ferociously. He arches them, rubbing against your spongy g-spot and making you scream. He knows you’re close, knows you only need one little push off the edge. He plays your body like a skilled practitioner.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. Let me see my greedy little bitch milk my fingers.”

Your body and mind react accordingly, deep down you know your body is owned completely by him, all his. Your orgasm explodes and you think you actually scream, your vision is black and your hearing goes silent for a moment as you cum harder than you have in your life. You’re squeezing his fingers with your pussy so tight and Taehyung is gently licking all the juices from his hand with his fingers still inside you.

It takes time to descend from the separate plane of existence Taehyung sent you too, but you come back and watch as he laps at the liquid of your cunt and on his hand like it’s a vital necessity. His fingers remain in your walls, and he refuses to break eye contact with you. You’re positive you could cum again from the sight.

“My little cockslut tastes so good, just how I like,” he tells you tenderly. “Like cherries, so sweet. My little cherry.”

Your cunt is aching and warming back to life as he pulls his fingers out of you. The loss is immense and you’re whimpering for more.

“Ah, ah,” he hushes you. “No whining. You’ll take what I give you. Suck my fingers clean. Taste yourself.”

He presses his fingers into your mouth, earning him a sigh, the taste of you filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and suckle each one to ensure your tongue laves the entire surface.

“Fuck,” he whispers and it’s his first crack in his steel reserve. “Needy.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses against you to kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and nothing compared to the man assailing your pussy with slaps moments ago. It thrills you just the same and you return in kind, threading your hands in his wavy hair.

He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, a moment of gentleness you actively welcome.

“This little cunt ready for me?” He whispers and you’re whimpering your reply.

“Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and chaste, before he pulls away and slides down to attach those same sinful lips to your pussy.

It’s so unexpected you flinch and manage a cry as his tongue slurps up more of your delicious essence and his mouth moves to suckle on your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned these tricks, but you know now you will never let him go.

“Taehyung!” You cry at the sensation. “Fuck!”

After receiving the reaction he was desperate for, he slips his tongue into your walls deep and gathers as much of you as he can, before he’s pulling back and swallowing you down.

“I couldn’t resist. Your cunt was made for me to devour.”

He doesn’t allow for a response as he throws your legs over his shoulders and lines himself up at your core.

“Condom?” He asks you, and you level a quick look at him.

“I don’t live here! I don’t have any!” You’re savage, terrified he’ll pull his cock away when all you want and can think about is the way he’ll feel pounding into you.

“Don’t be rude, baby,” he reminds you with a swat to your ass. “I’m clean, promise. You?”

You nod quickly, reveling in the spank’s tingle. “Same. I have an IUD too,” you sigh. Thank god for medical birth control implants.

“Good. You’re the only pussy I’m gonna fuck from now on,” he promises. You know you must talk about this later, when you’re thinking rationally and not with your aching pussy.

Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat but all is forgotten as he plunges into your tight heat.

“Ohhhhh shit, ahhh,” he gasps. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight and wet.” He’s on the verge of whining, becoming just as needy and greedy as you. He wastes no time in setting a pace.

His cock fills you completely, his angle allowing him to go as deep as he can, pressing the beginning of your cervix. This is surely what heaven feels like. It feels like the completeness you feel with Taehyung fully sheathed inside you.

It comes alive with flames and explosions as he fucks you, hips pistoning to plunge in and out of you with tenacity. He fucks you like he laces every single thrust with more, more than just sex. He fucks you with purpose.

You’re moaning like a pornstar now, high pitch wails and gasps and breathy moans are all you can manage. “Taehyung, yes! Feel so g-g-good!”

“That’s right baby, scream my fucking name. Make sure all the neighbors know who fucking ruined you,” he nearly spits, cock thrusting into your core at an impossible speed. “I want you to tell all of Korea who owns you. Who owns this tiny little cunt?”

The wind leaves you, and you’re gasping for air, gaping mouth open as you try to reply. It takes him fucking into you harder a few times before you feel it rush back into you.

“You, Taehyung! You! Fuck, I love your cock!”

His thumb rubs at your engorged clit, allowing it the friction it seeks. He bends forward and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing.

Losing air combined with the friction on your clit has you keening, so close to the edge. You try to babble his name but nothing comes out.

“Look at my pretty little slut taking my cock so well,” he praises. “You have the greediest pussy, don’t you? You need my cock daily, baby. Need to put my mouthy bitch in her place, remind her who’s in charge.”

He slows his pace but his thrusts are punishing, fucking into you as hard as he can. Your orgasm is climbing so impossibly high.

“F-fuck!” You gasp as he releases his grip on your neck. “Gonna cum! Please let me cum!”

“Yeah baby, cum for me. Cream your greedy pussy all over my cock.”

The world stops spinning as you hit the height of your climax and plunge down. Your vision goes black and your body is quivering and convulsing nearly as hard as your cunt is. Taehyung hisses at your walls sucking him in, as if you’re begging for his cum, begging for more.

“Fuck, good girl, baby, holy shit,” he’s breathless and so close.

You’re overstimulated, boneless, but he wrought two of the best orgasms you’ve ever felt in your life and you’ll be damned if you leave him high and dry. You bite your lip as you move with him, hips pounding against each other. His face is scrunched up and you know he’s close when he’s stuttering on his words. You take over for him.

“Please cum in me baby, please. Fill me up. I’m yours, baby, mark my little cunt as yours.” You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you keep it going. It feels as natural as fucking him does. “Please, Taehyung!”

At the sound of his name leaving you in a whine, he spirals down his own completion. He feels his cock pulse as he empties his load into you, your walls still reverently beckoning for him. He’s calling out your name, grasping at your tits as he finishes and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Your pussy is warm with his seed and you’re positive it’s the way you want to feel every single night.

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung rasps as he pulls his cock out of you. He thrills as he watches his cum follow, slipping out your folds and down your thigh. “I definitely marked you.”

You hum in reply, finally allowing yourself to soak in the haze of orgasmic bliss. Tae presses his head to yours again, kissing you sweetly.

“Come sleep in my bed?” He asks. He means more behind it. He wants to ask you to sleep in his bed every night, stay with him every day, be the one he grows old with. He knows there’s still more to talk about, wounds of the past to heal, but now you’re with him, and he knows he’ll work through anything.

You nod, and kiss him again, understanding his hidden meaning laced in his words.

A sly smile spreads across his face. “Last one to bed has to take the blame for the wineglass,” he teases. Your head spins as if you’ve got whiplash. He can switch from dominating to sensitive to the little shit he is so quick.

“Hey! No fucking fair! You fucked my ability to run out of me!”

“Shouldn’t have been such a sassy bitch,” he winks before he tears away towards his room.

“Taehyung, you’re an asshole!” You call as you limp your way behind him.

From behind Joon and Jin’s door, a critical voice bellows, “YAH! I’ll kill you if you got your jizz on my couch! And what is this I heard about my glass!!? HEY! Those are TIFFANY. CRYSTAL. THE DISRESPECT!”

You slip into Taehyung’s bed and wrap yourself around him, the two of you gasping with mischievous giggles.

Kim Taehyung will always be the one who knows how to drive you wild. He’ll always aggravate and infuriate you, send you reeling.

But now you didn’t think you minded it at all.

#bangtanarmynet #maknaesmutsociety #btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #kwritersworldnet #bts taehyung #bts kim taehyung #bts v #bts fic #bts smut #bts fanfic #kim taehyung #v

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Text

The White Wolf (pt. 1/3)

Ship: Geraskier - Established. Rating: T Word Count: 6k in total (this chapter is 2k)

Summary: Following an unfortunate encounter with a mage, Geralt gets cursed into a wolf. Jaskier and Geralt must travel the Continent in search of someone that can help them. (AO3)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, nudity (Jaskier’s clothes don’t change with him).

Part 7: Shifter!Jaskier Verse (Tumblr) - Can be read as a stand alone.

_________

The cloud of sparkling dust settled on the floor and Geralt was nowhere to be seen. The last Jaskier had seen of his boyfriend, he’d been thrown against the wall, barely able to move his fingers to form Quen in time before his head knocked against the stone. There was no witcher in the room now. Just a pile of bloodstained white fur in the corner of the room.

Jaskier snarled and sniffed the air. He could smell Geralt but something was wrong. Geralt reeked of wet dog. Jaskier growled, low and menacing, at the sorcerer in front of them. The man had been luring children away from their homes in the dead of night using all sorts of sweet treats. Then at night he was pulling their dreams from their minds and using them for fuck knows what. The children were returning to their homes as lifeless ghosts of their former selves, and thus a witcher and his trusted companion had been hired.

“I’m no fool, bard.” The sorcerer spat. “I can sense your magic.

Jaskier let his sharp teeth show as he snarled again. He let his magic loose and there was a sickening crunch of bones. Jaskier’s thick russet fur melted away into long red feathers. He spread his wings as a thick black mane grew along he neck. He roared at the sorcerer and struck both talons across his chest, balancing on the large lion paws of his hind legs. The sorcerer was thrown backwards as dark blood seeped through his clothing. The attack had caught him off guard. Jaskier stalked forward, his front talons clacking on the wooden floor. This human had stolen Jaskier’s mate and they had to pay.

The scent of blood was thick in the air and all he knew was the hunt.

The prey was wounded. It was an easy kill.

He screeched as he prepared to land the final blow but a large snowy white wolf with glowing amber eyes suddenly stood between him and the prey.

Amber eyes.

Jaskier knew those eyes.

Geralt.

He let his magic loose and shifted back into a wolf. There was just something about Geralt being in wolf form that ignited all his pack instincts. He didn’t know whether Geralt was stuck as a wolf or could shift between animals, but Jaskier knew he would match Geralt no matter what.

The thought gave him pause. He wondered whether it was an instinct of his people, lost and long forgotten. Were there ever groups of shifters? Were they still alive? Or was he alone… He’d always felt so alone. Jaskier nudged his head under Geralt’s snout and whined. Geralt huffed and butted Jaskier’s head. Jaskier did his best wolfy grin and then mouthed at Geralt’s nose before rolling over onto his back with a wag of his tail.

Geralt gave a quick bark and then looked pointedly between Jaskier and mage. Jaskier tilted his head, wondering how Geralt still managed to look unimpressed even as a wolf. Jaskier snorted and rolled back onto his paws. He glanced around the room, his clothes were still at the inn. Geralt’s clothes appeared to have disappeared when he was changed into a wolf; lucky bastard. He spotted a long cloak hanging up on the wall and wagged his tail. He leapt up on his hind legs and pulled at the cloak with his teeth. When he was covered nicely by the heavy material he shifted back into his human form with a crack of his bones.

The cloak was thick, grey and woollen. It had a large hood, reminiscent of the cloaks the elves used. He wrapped it round his shoulders and then grinned at Geralt.

“Hello, dearest. I know you’re the White Wolf and all, but isn’t this taking it a bit too far?” He reached out with his hand and Geralt bumped it with his snout. He gave Geralt a quick scratch behind the ears. “Can you shift?”

Geralt tilted his head.

Jaskier frowned and stuck his tongue out as he tried to figure out a way to explain it. It was like trying to explain how to blink or breathe or… just exist. “Umm, ah, think of Roach? Try and feel her hooves, her mane?”

Geralt’s snout scrunch up and he let out a snarl.

“No?”

Geralt shook his head, one ear twitched and Jaskier couldn’t help but coo. Geralt growled at that.

“I’m sorry!” He said, not really sorry at all. “But, my love, you look so cute!”

Another growl.

“Oh stop it. You’re trying to be all scary witcher and it’s not working. You are adorable and I can turn into a dragon so shush.” He bopped Geralt on the nose and gave him another scratch behind the ears. Geralt’s tail began to wag. Geralt looked behind him and snarled, clearly not enjoying the way his body was betraying his feelings. He also looked as if he was about to start chasing his tail. He was baring his teeth, snarling as the tail flicked on the stone floor. Jaskier took pity on him and knelt down so he could cup his wolf’s face in his hands. “Geralt, darling?”

Geralt blinked and looked up at him.

“There you go. The instincts might feel a bit strong at first but we’ll work it out alright?” Jaskier buried in face in Geralt’s fur, his own instincts to shift back into a wolf were almost overwhelming him, but Geralt needed him human. It was easier to explain things to his newly wolf companion when he could use words. It was also nice to be able to snuggle in Geralt’s fur for a change. “Do you know how to fix this?”

Geralt shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have killed the mage, should I?” Jaskier asked with a sigh.

Another head shake and a whine.

Jaskier kissed Geralt’s head. “In my defence, witcher. I thought he’d killed you!” Geralt licked his face and he grimaced. “Geralt! Oh gods, that went up my nose!”

Geralt wagged his tail and pounced. Jaskier was knocked back onto the ground and Geralt’s tongue was drooling all over his face, which would have been fine if Geralt’s tongue didn’t feel so coarse against his skin. “Oi, no! Get off you big lump!”

Geralt nipped at his ear and sat back down, his tail thumped noisily against the stone floor.

Jaskier sighed and grabbed Geralt’s swords from where they’d clattered on the floor. Jaskier hummed. Geralt’s clothes and medallion had changed with him but his swords had not. At least his magic was consistent. Geralt head-butted his leg and they finally fled the tower together. It felt strange being the one on two feet instead of four but they’d faced worse things in their two years travelling together.

Two years…

Had it really been so long? He’d been with Geralt for two whole years… not mentioning the little blip of his mother’s horrendous return into his life. He shuddered at the memory. Yeah, they’d definitely been through worse together. ___________

As they approached the town Geralt snorted and laid down on the ground, resting his head on his big white paws. Jaskier glanced over his shoulder at the wolf with a scowl before he realised why Geralt had stopped. He grinned and walked back to pet Geralt’s head. Geralt’s tail thumped heavily against the ground as Jaskier gave him a scratch behind the ear. Geralt still looked put out by his tail’s reaction to affection but now seemed resigned to the fact he could no longer mask his happier feelings.

“Well isn’t this a turn of events. I’m normally the one that has to wait outside!” Jaskier announced with a laugh.

Geralt let out a low growl and mouthed at Jaskier’s fingers.

“Ouch! Sharp teeth, Geralt. You’re not exactly a pup, dear heart,” Jaskier chided.

Geralt’s ears flicked and Jaskier was pretty sure the strange snuffling noise was Geralt trying to laugh at him.

“Stay here. I’ll go and get our stuff,” he sighed and looked down at himself. The cloak wasn’t exactly modest and whilst he had very little shame over his body, most humans wouldn’t appreciate him walking around town with his dick out. “Next time we are keeping my clothes in a pack and not back at the inn.”

Geralt barked and his tongue hung out of his mouth as he wagged his tail.

“Yeah yeah, go on, laugh at your poor suffering boyfriend.”

Geralt barked again and jumped up to lick Jaskier’s face, placing both paws on Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier just ruffled Geralt’s fur and kissed his snout.

“I’ll be back soon, love.”

He wrapped the cloak around him in a feeble attempt to cover himself up and trudged back to the inn. He did get some bizarre looks from the villagers but he did his best to ignore them. Had they never seen a bard wearing just a cloak and witcher’s swords before? He scoffed. They were amateurs. He tried to sneak up to their room at the inn but the bloody innkeeper spotted him.

“Oi, where do you think you’re going?”

Jaskier spun around, only just remembering to keep his hands gripped on the cloak to stop it from flying open. He still had Geralt’s swords in their holder in his hand and he held them up for the innkeeper to see. “I’m a friend of the witcher’s. Jaskier? The bard? You might have heard of me?”

“Toss a Coin?” The innkeeper asked and Jaskier let out a sigh of relief.

“Ah, yes. That’s the one,” He sang a couple of lines just to prove his point. “And umm, well. Geralt… Geralt was looking after my lute for me whilst I was… away?”

“Away?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier winced. It was a terrible story and he was ashamed. “But you see, I really need to get it back.”

“Did the witcher take your clothes too?” The innkeeper asked with a smirk, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Jaskier felt his cheeks heat up and it took all his control not to shift back into a mouse. He laughed nervously and tugged the cloak tighter around his chest. “Well, funny you should say that.”

“Those his swords?”

“Yes! Yes they are. I ran into him on the path just outside of town. He’s dealt with your mage problem, but ah. Umm. Spells! He was hit by a spell and it’s really not very pretty so he asked me to collect our… his.. belongings. So I’m just…” He pointed to the stairs and the innkeeper waved his hand. “Thank you ever so much, kind sir. May all the gods praise you!”

“Just go, bard.”

Jaskier gave a quick bow and then flew up the stairs, two steps at at time. Once inside the room he got dressed and quickly gathered up their belongings before heading back out to fetch Roach. The conversation with the stable girl went just as well as the one with the innkeeper and Jaskier barely remembered the story he’d woven only a few minutes before, but he was gone and heading back towards the forest before anyone else could question him.

He didn’t ride Roach but it was easier with her carrying the bags and his lute. Once he was out of sight from the townsfolk he considered shifting back into a wolf. Whatever the mage had hit Geralt with was driving him crazy, but they still needed to find a solution to Geralt’s wolf problem so regretfully he remained on two feet. He huffed and dragged his feet as they headed back to where he’d left Geralt. How did people cope with being in one form all the time? It was so boring!

___________

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #shapeshifter!jaskier #shifter!jaskier #wolf geralt #cursed geralt #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #wolfie's witcher writing #let me know if you want to be tagged

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bard-llama · 3 years

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The Taint of the Common Man (Meve/Reynard/Gascon)

Okay, so I finally tried to play Thronebreaker again and it turned out that my comptuer/steam/whatever had actually kept my save!!! So I didn’t have to start over, which was good, because the beginning was kinda boring, which is why it took me so long to continue. But it’s also kinda bad, because now I do not remember anything about Gascon’s introduction beyond “they fought, Meve won and threatened to hang him next time”. Which like... I could probably make it work, but knowing the details seems important for writing Meve’s feelings and reactions to Gascon.

Anyway, this is a continuation of the thoughts that this lovely post inspired, and because I’m me, those thoughts grew a plot. Both the link and the rest of the story involve a VERY dubcon/noncon premise, so please engage only if you can. Also, spoilers for Chapter 1 of Thronebreaker (aka major plot things that happen once you reach Lyria’s capital).

Okay, once again: HUGE WARNING for Dubcon/Noncon stuff. Like, it’s how the story starts and it’s gonna be something dealt with through the whole story. My idea is basically a story that starts with Meve losing EVERYTHING, and then, through her quest to reclaim her throne, she learns how to be a better queen to ALL of her people, not just the noblemen. End game is intended to be Meve/Reynard/Gascon, but tbh, idk how they get there. Like, at first, Meve and Reynard hate Gascon A LOT, so they have to learn to love him and that takes time.

I’m kinda still learning about these characters as I think this through, so apologies if you find them ooc or if I contradict canon (without meaning to. Sometimes i do it gladly lol)

So we start with Meve returning to the Lyrian castle, only to find that her son and the Council of Peers (read: ruling council that advises the monarch and consists entirely of peerage aka nobility) have betrayed her and surrendered to Nilfgaard. She’s thrown in a dungeon and though her son orders that she is not to be harmed, she knows enough about reality to know they’d never let her live.

She’s on guard, waiting for the guards to come and kill her - only when footsteps approach, it’s not the guards at all, but the fucking Duke of Dogs, the leader of the Strays of Spalla, a gang of bandits that plague merchant caravans and noblemen alike. Gascon, the proclaimed Duke of Dogs, opens the cell door and steps in and tells Meve that he’s freeing her, because the Council of Peers used him and his men and he can’t abide betrayal. But there’s one condition - Meve has to ask him, all nice and polite-like.

Meve, of course, refuses, because she’s nothing if not prideful. So Gascon closes the cell door and leans back against it and says something like, “guess we won’t be leaving, then. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to do something else on your knees,” or some sort of implication like that that makes it clear he’s suggesting that she blow him in exchange for release. And Meve is furious and her pride cuts at her, but dammit, she has no hope of freeing Lyria from Nilfgaard’s grasp while stuck in here. So she goes to her knees. And Gascon is surprised - from his view, she could’ve just begged him??? - but like... the QUEEN is on her KNEES for HIM, a (decidedly un)common bandit who she’d threatened to hang not a week prior.

Also, I think there’s also a part of Gascon that blames Meve for the massacre of his family. According to the wiki, the year before King Reginald (Meve’s husband) died, Gascon’s family revolted against the king and were soundly squashed, with Gascon at a mere 8 years old the only one to survive. From there, he fell in with the Strays of Spalla and eventually became their leader. Remember this bit, ‘cause I’m definitely gonna come back to it. But anyway, Gascon doesn’t like Meve. He’s doing this because it’s the right thing to do and a little because having the queen indebted to him feels awfully good. Also, Meve is good with her mouth.

So good, in fact, that she drives him crazy, taking him to the edge and teasing him and teasing him and teasing him until his legs are shaking and the cell door is all that’s holding him up. I don’t think he actually begs, because his men are around the cell watching this, but he has to bite his lip hard to keep from doing so.

For Meve, there are many complicated feelings happening. On the one hand, this is humiliating and degrading and it’s shameful that she’s fallen so far as to be forced to service a fucking bandit and even worse that his men are SEEING this happen.

On the other hand... look, Meve was widowed 8 years ago. Somewhere in there (or before?), she comes to love and trust Reynard - who her husband, upon his deathbed, told her that he alone could be trusted. But she hasn’t made a move, because it wouldn’t be appropriate and she doesn’t want to ruin things between them.

Point is, it’s been 8 years since she’s had sex and she has had cause to desire some sex. Queens can probably get amazing sex toys, but like, an actual cock? it’s been AGES since she’s been able to play with one and she kind of missed it.

Additionally, in an effort to combat her shame and humiliation, she decides to flip the script on them. Gascon wants her to blow him? Fine, she’ll blow him so well that he utterly falls apart. And maybe she’s a little of practice, but Gascon is young anyway, he probably doesn’t even know better lmao. (But later, she’s oddly grateful that she had this chance for ‘practice’ before it actually mattered)

Eventually, she lets Gascon come - or maybe he uses his grip on her hair to pull her onto him? (She may decide to make it a good blowjob, but that doesn’t mean he’s earned deepthroating) - and the Strays, who have gone from hooting and hollering over the queen’s humiliation to flushed and aroused at the skillful way she destroyed their boss, let them out of the cell.

Next, they go to the city jail to release Reynard, who was arrested as soon as the coup happened because everyone knows that Reynard’s loyalty to the crown is absolute. Reynard is sitting against the wall and he smiles brightly at the sight of her, so Meve strides into the cell to unshackle him. So of course Gascon, who now stands in front of the door once more, suggests something like, “such faithful loyalty deserves ample reward, does it not?”

And Meve is conflicted. Because AGAIN, the Strays of Spalla are watching them and Gascon is trying elicit sexual favours from her. But also, it’s Reynard. She’s wondered for so long what Reynard’s cock would be like and how he would treat her. And, she justifies to herself, she was already forced to give a piece of filth like Gascon a blowjob. Reynard most certainly deserved better.

So she orders him to stand and goes to her knees and is almost eager to get him in her mouth. And Reynard is caught entirely off guard here, because he was ready to skewer Gascon for the mere suggestion, and then she’s ACTUALLY DOING IT!!! And it’s not like she’s alone in having thought about it, but he always assumed that he would be the one on his knees. So for her to do so... he’s awed and a little horrified that he is party to degrading his queen in this way. And also aroused. REALLY fucking aroused, because Meve is on her knees for him! And unlike Gascon, he has earned deepthroating. Fortunately, he’s already leaning against the wall, so he doesn’t collapse.

If Gascon hadn’t had the most intense orgasm of his life like 10 minutes previously, he’d definitely try to see if he could join in, even though they really don’t have the time for that sort of thing. But suffice it to say, Gascon remembers each and every moment Meve spent on her knees vividly.

Reynard comes (and Gascon is reluctantly pleased to have a companion in the wait-you-want-me-to-fight-after-how-hard-I-came!? club) and they all leave the dungeons - and get found by a patrol of guards. They have to fight their way out and Meve thinks Gascon managed to slip away - right up until he comes to their aid with his whole crew. With Gascon’s help, their motley crew flees the capital of Lyria (largely by traveling thru the sewers).

That night, they set up camp somewhere and instead of the royal supplies she’s used to, all they have is whatever the Strays of Spalla had, which means stolen and/or threadbare, ‘cause they’re not exactly living the high life. And Meve knows she should get some rest, but she can’t stop thinking about what happened in the prison(s) and she decides that, as long as Reynard was willing, why shouldn’t she pursue the man she loved?

So she goes to the mess tent and it’s predictably full of drunken soldiers - well, drunken warriors. This rabble didn’t deserve to be called soldiers - and clusters of people playing dice and cards. She spots Reynard at one of the card tables - but sitting across from him is none other than the motherfucking Duke of Dogs. Half-formed plans to kiss Reynard drown under the flood of fury she feels and she summons Reynard to her, ignoring Gascon, who definitely tries to flirt with her. At this moment, she has VERY conflicted feelings about Gascon and most of them are negative. But also, they need him. She is very much aware that his men are the only reason she has any chance at all of taking back her home.

Anyway, Meve confronts Reynard, who explains that he doesn’t trust Gascon as far as he can throw him and whatever mischief Gascon is up to, whatever he thinks he can gain from helping them, Reynard is ready for the doublecross. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer is very much his philosophy, compounded by the way he has learned not to reveal - well, much at all. People probably find him very... is softspoken the word? Not like he speaks soft, but like, he doesn’t say a lot. He learned to keep his mouth shut after he managed to survive insulting the king, so he plays things pretty close to his chest and people find it hard to guess what he’s thinking.

Gascon, for his part, is helping Meve because it’s the right thing to do (and a little because again, queen indebted to you? Very handy). He’s probably aware that Reynard doesn’t like him, even if Reynard acts friendly enough? Like, literally Reynard is so loyal to Meve that he was imprisoned and she was sure of his fealty. And Gascon has found ways to rationalize what he did i.e. raping Meve - she could’ve just begged! She had a choice! - but even though Reynard got a blowjob out of it, I’m sure Gascon would assume that Reynard would want him dead for the blowjob that he got.

I don’t precisely know what Reynard and Gascon’s relationship is like during this, tbh. I think it’ll be Meve’s POV, so she may have a limited view, but I think it’s definitely complicated. Made worse, of course, by both Meve and Reynard beginning to see the redeeming qualities in Gascon. But that comes later.

For now, Meve accepts Reynard’s explanation and knowing that he would do anything to protect her soothes some of the ruffled feathers from a very trying day. So she decides to subtly ask him something like, “come to my tent?” that like, isn’t blatant ‘cause they’re surrounded by drunk men, but also is pretty clear. And Reynard’s eyes widen and it hurts so much to do, but he tells her no. She’s had an intense fucking day - betrayed by her son and court, imprisoned, forced to give multiple blowjobs and work with lowly bandits and shit. Like, she’s been through a lot and he knows that she’s not able to be in her right mind. So he says no, part of him hoping that if she actually means it, she’ll try again in the morning.

But what Meve hears is no, not interested. Which makes this the third time today that she gets to be humiliated in front of the fucking Strays of Spalla, because not only is the man she loves rejecting her, but like... is he rejecting her because she’s tainted now? How is she supposed to interpret him enjoying a blowjob from her one hour and rejecting her advances the next?

And the taint... I think that’ll be a theme in this fic (thus the title). Like, at the height of her power before the fall, Meve was “pure” - which in this case means firmly assured that she was right in everything, as she was always destined to be. There’s no questioning of the world order or if she’s qualified to lead. She simply knows that she is.

But now she’s been betrayed, her nobility and her title ripped from her grasp. And not only that, but she’s demeaned herself with a common thug! She even says it in the game - “look how far we’ve fallen, to be surrounded by peasants and deserters and bandits”. For her, this entire situation is almost like “being common” is reaching for her, trying to pull her in, and she wants to resist, because she’s always been taught that the nobles are BETTER than the common people. But as she works with her army of thugs and commoners, she starts to learn that poor people are people too (gee, who’da thunk it?)

That journey takes time, though, and we’re barely at the start of it!

So, Meve gets rejected. She’s hurt and humiliated and at the moment doesn’t have a kind word for ANYBODY. She maybe cries herself to sleep and hates herself for being weak.

Then morning comes and she has her regular strategy meeting with Reynard, as she did every morning. And it’s awkward and Reynard is as silent as usual, always so deliberate about every word that leaves his mouth. And she wants to ask, but yesterday’s humiliation was enough. She can’t repeat it.

So even though they SHOULD’VE gotten together, they fail to, because Meve is stubborn and prideful and Reynard is closelipped and proper. And Meve kind of hates even the sight of Gascon, but since he IS the leader of the army that is currently only at her disposal because of him, she invites him to join the strategy meetings every morning. If Gascon helps provide a buffer between her and Reynard, so much the better.

Okay, I don’t actually know how everyone ACTUALLY gets together, BUT as they travel through the countryside of Lyria towards the Aedirnian border, a couple of important things happen.

1) Meve sees the real conditions of the people living in her realm. Even in areas that the lords had reported prosperous, people were starving and dying. She starts to learn that these are her people too.

2) Meve and Reynard get to know Gascon. Not just over their strategy meetings, but as they observe him and the Strays of Spalla they (Meve especially) begin to realize that their judgements were all wrong. Because yes, the Strays of Spalla are bandits. They steal from wealthy merchants and even wealthier nobles. That had always been enough to know before.

But now they come to know that that stolen food and blankets and supplies and coin went to the starving peasants in these lands. Hell, most of the Strays are from these areas. These are their people, even if Meve hasn’t figured out that they’re hers too.

Anyway, idk how they get together or how the story ends - is it with them getting together? Getting to Vengerberg to ask for help to reclaim their home? Ousting Villem and taking Lyria back? idk, I haven’t even gotten that far in the game yet lol.

So yeah, here’s a very long synopsis of a story that manages to have almost no porn and lots of angst, despite being inspired by a purely porny post lmao.

#meve x reynard #meve x reynard x gascon #thronebreaker #the witcher #fic planning #dubcon

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readbyred · 3 years

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One very important gesture - Hatcherfield favourites pt.1

This one is very specific because it’s very late when in writing this, or should I say early, and I have this scenario in mind where I take characters I like writing and have their s/o do something for then that they weren't expecting but needed; this work is unedited

Alice

“So the she (the vampire lesbian) just takes-” she passed realizing how a simple ‘how are you?’ just turned into a big monologue about her new project. Great now you’ll think she’s weird! Not giving you time to respond and just rambling like a maniac about undead murder lesbians. And if you found out she actually based the coffee shop owner’s character on you- that whole thing was am embarrassing mistake and she should have learned to shut up by now. If no one’s asking about her play then there’s literally no reason to shove it down people’s throats. That's the most pathetic thing she could do “geez, sorry for the ramble”

“No, no, please continue! I enjoy hearing you talk about things you like” smiling you look at her expectantly to continue her tale adding “i should be thankful America’s next most successful playwright is sharing her ideas with me”

Putting down her phone completely Alice looked at you wide eyed and you half expected to see those anime girl sparkle appear around her irises. She then looked away timidly smiling and putting her soft small hand atop of yours. After the pause ended she continued. Still smiling “so then she grabs the gun and[...]”

Lex

Lex cringed at her reddened face in the mirror, the aftermath of a crying session wrapped in your arm. She was scared, she felt very drained and lonely lately. But no matter what she had to keep her brave facade for Hannah.

“You alright?” you asked from your room seeing how your girlfriend only went to wash her face but was taking a very long time to come put of the bathroom.

“Why does it always go to shit like that?” sighing she fell back down of your bed “I really want her to have a better life but so far I'm doing nothing help”

“No, Lex” she expected to see pity when she turned to look you in the eyes but instead she was met with a sympathetic look “you’re doing enough and I know it's hard but I swear you are not alone in this”

As corny as it sounded it did paint a weak smile on her lips as she wrapped her hands around your torso lightly kissing your cheek

Lucy

The first date was going swell but you could tell the British woman across the table was getting distracted glancing at her phone.

“Is something wrong?” cocking your head you examined your date as her head snapped back up to look at you like a deer in headlights. She must have thought she was being sneaky with looking into her purse but she definitely was not.

“Oh! Sorry for that” avoiding the answer she sent you an apologetic smile.

“I won't press but did something happen?”

“No, not really. But if I told you, you’d just leave me here and call me crazy” she took a sip of her drink but despite her words she continued “Have you heard the ‘legend’ of the Ape Man who lives in the forests nearby?”

“So it is true that you’re looking for him” his could you not have heard the colourful stories about the creature, after all this town was where you grew up in and just like every child you too we're scared into obedience by tales of the beast that could lurk just outside your window. They didn't scare you but many of them stayed in your mind, vivid as ever.

“So you knew before you asked me out?” her eyebrows travelled almost all the way up to her hairline.

“Don’t get me wrong but those rumours were the reason I approached you in the first place...” looking away nervously you did not get the reaction you anticipated.

“Wait, really? I’m flattered, I really am” she smiled at your confusion “would you like to hear me talk about it then? I... I haven't had anyone to share my research with, in a while, and my ex-fiance wasn't very keen on the subject, you could say”

Nodding happily you took a sip of you hot chocolate listening to everything she had to say, seeing your date grow more excited as you followed along and asked questions about what she had to say

Emdroid

Walking over the bridge you stopped noticing that your partner had stopped to look over the railing. Here, some moths ago you helped her dump the bodies of her ‘human prototype’ as you called her and that man, her ex-fiance, who decided to be a bother and call off the wedding upon learning her identity.

She was the mastermind in your duo, way more confident about your crimes than you were. Yet she was still cursed with an awfully human mind and was no stranger to feeling doubt. And so as soon as you noticed her brown and blue eyes gazing into the black unforgiving mass of water underneath you knew what she was thinking.

“You know that we did the right thing, right?” approaching you put down your one hand next to hers on the railing and wrapped the other one around her, giving her sort of a light side-hug “she didn't use her life, you did a lot more than she could ever accomplish. You deserve happiness too”

Squeezing her shoulder lightly you felt her head lean on your (shoulder/head) as her small hand landed atop of yours. It was Sunday evening and it felt eru good news is t to rush and just stand there, with her, thinking.

Bonus for Starr that she gave me the idea for (I literally wrote nothing on my own here so all credit to @stopgettingonmynerves )

Ethan

After sneaking into the drive-in theatre at the outskirts of Hatchetfield, one of your personal favourite places in this small boring town, you took your favourite spot waiting for the film to start. You were really excited when you heard they would be playing “the rope” as you enjoyed revisiting it every chance you got. Sort of a weird comfort movie but your boyfriend didn't seem to mind. You felt a bit guilty actually with how much you mentioned it because ever since them Ethan went beyond himself to get some money and get you there legally. But it didn't work out and he had to resort to your usual plan. He wasn't very wealthy to say the least but it was never something that mattered to you. Yet it clearly embarrassed him, it was clear in the way his expression always changed to shameful when you two did something like that. It seemed that he (falsely of course) believed that if he didn't treat you to all those things you’d think less of him.

Finally, you couldn't bare to look at how he did all this and how he made himself feel about not doing more and when you cuddled into him, still waiting for the movie to start you leaned in and said to him quietly “You really don't gave to do this, you know? I know you don't like to sneak in every time and lie your way out of trouble. So please don't. You are worth much more than what you give and you don't have to ‘buy’ yourself space to exist in this relationship... please”

You weren't met with any verbal response but you felt him grip you tighter and rest his chin on your (head/shoulder).

Henry

“What is it?” you practically forced your way into his house frantically. When in the middle of the night your partner called you that there's been an emergency you rushed to get to him. But there he stood, fine as ever.

“I just had a revelation dear!” he said but it didn't go unnoticed that he had snuck around you and as he took your coat he was most likely trying to lock the door “come in and take a sit next to Alexa! How moronic of me not to think about this solution! So, it's about the ‘workin‘ boys’ I-”

“Henry” you stopped his rambling “is that why you called me to get here?”

To your surprise the man scoffed as if the answer was obvious.

“How else was I supposed to get you to come?” now it was your time to look at him baffled. You were extremely worried that he was hurt and for what?

“You could have just told me you wanted to talk, I would gladly listen to you” you explained making him freeze like a deer in the headlights.

“That's absurd!” the man objected “It never works! If I didn't use half truths i would never get an audience”

“Look, I'm not Emma or Ted” you responded taking a deep sigh “I'm with you now and I’ll gladly listen to what you have to say. Just... No weird lies and schemes from now on, alright?”

A genuine smile stretched his lips as he led you to his cozy kitchen “you certainly are a peculiar companion, I must say. But truly, the best one I could ask for. So! As I was saying [...]”

#starkid #tgwdlm #tgwdlm x reader #black friday x reader #tgwdlm preference #emdroid #black friday lex #ethan green #henry hidgens #lucy nightmare time #alice woodward #tgwdlm alice #x reader #preference

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ambientstars · 4 years

Note

I’m so excited for part 2 I know its going to be amazing 🤩

Gif credit: unknown

Note: this one got away from me so it’s much longer than my usual fics, I hope you all don’t mind. Anyway, here I am exposing myself again. Will I ever learn? *sigh*. Enjoy!

Warnings: angst, spanking, semi public shenanigans? (Risk of being caught), praise kink and an embarrassing attempt at putting a storyline around it.

- - -

“Doctor, please!” You begged, following him around the console like a lost puppy. “I’m sorry!”

He sighed deeply through his nose, his eyes watching the ground he walked on. “You went off with her. You left me standing there like an idiot and ran off with her of all people.”

He didn’t once raise his voice despite his frustration and hurt, his tone calm although sadness poured through it like a tsunami of heartbreak.

Your chest tightened at the thought of hurting him, abandoning him on a far off planet because you were too caught up in The Master’s touch.

You had just stumbled through the TARDIS doors, days after you had left the club, your hair messy and unbrushed, your clothes too flashy for daytime and creased from being crumpled on The Master’s bedroom floor for so long, your skin marked with bruises of varying colours in the shape of your lover’s mouth.

It hadn’t been your intention to stay away for so long, or to go away at all, but The Master had a way of creating a blissful bubble where time and rational thoughts didn’t exist. You’d spent the entire time under her, wrapped around her or trailing after her much like you were doing now with The Doctor.

In the end she had forced you to leave, claiming that she had things to do that weren’t meant to be seen by such pretty eyes and you did as you were told, although reluctantly and with an over exaggerated whine.

“I was so worried about you.” The Doctor mumbled, flicking a switch on the control panel, avoiding eye contact with you.

An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine. It felt a lot like regret. You hadn’t thought about how he must’ve been feeling, watching you fall into his best enemy’s timeship, your lips attached to hers.

“I was fine,” you whispered back, ashamed of your behaviour, willing the TARDIS floor to swallow you up and eject you somewhere where you wouldn’t have to have this conversation. “She wouldn’t hurt me.”

He scoffed. “Doesn’t look that way.”

He referred to the bruises that littered your exposed skin, seeing them as sign of abuse instead of what they really were - evidence of tender kisses, playful biting, accidentally grabbing too tightly whilst blinded by pleasure and marking to show the world that you were hers.

“It’s not like that.”

He finally looked you in the eyes, his wide and watery. “I was worried that you wouldn’t come back.”

You couldn’t even defend yourself, your shame and betrayal laid heavy on your heart, weighing you down and making it harder and harder to fight your corner with every passing second.

You’d done wrong, broken his trust and now you’d have to suffer through the consequences. Of course he would force a friendly smile on his youthful face each day as you continued to travel together, but you knew that it would be a long time before he could trust you again. You knew that he would be hesitant when reaching for your hand from now on, questioning his own actions and what he had done to drive you away into the arms of the woman he loved to hate.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, every other word in your vocabulary failing you, your mouth full of apologies yet to be released.

- -

You watched silently as The Doctor tinkered with the mechanics of the TARDIS console, his ridiculous round goggles perched at his hairline, leaving circular dents in his forehead.

It had been a week since you returned from your impromptu getaway and things were still just as awkward as they were on the first day. The Doctor spent most of his time in his room, creating loud commotions well into the early hours of the morning, keeping himself busy and distracted, never taking a moment to breathe and allow his thoughts to overcome him.

You hadn’t been on any trips out since your return either, The Doctor stating that the timeship needed some repairs and therefore you were aimlessly drifting through space until he had ‘fixed’ her.

You were bored to say the least. The Doctor was ignoring you for the most part and you’d exhausted every activity on the TARDIS that took your fancy, now you spent your days just hanging around the timelord who didn’t really want you in his presence, just hoping for something to happen.

“Psst!”

Your head snapped up at the sound, your ears focusing. You looked around, your eyes landing on The Master in the doorway of a corridor blocked from The Doctor’s view.

You knew your face must’ve been quite the picture, you could feel different parts of it moving in different directions in your confusion.

She smirked and called you over with the come here motion of her finger. As if you had no control over your body anymore, you immediately walked over, careful not to catch the attention of The Doctor.

“Hello darling,” The Master greeted you as you approached her, her hand landing on your waist and pulling you in so that you were flush against her. “Miss me?”

You felt heat rise in your face, your head falling forward to hide your blush as you nodded. “Always.”

“Good.” She lifted your head with a finger under your chin, the playful glint in her eyes shining under the lights of the corridor. “I missed you.”

Your stomach fluttered, your lip sucked in between your teeth. It felt nice to be missed by The Master. Having someone so powerful and well known missing someone so plain and insignificant as you was heartwarming.

“How is he?” She was referring to The Doctor, her eyes momentarily flickering behind you to check that you were still alone.

You shrugged, a frown forcing its way onto your face. “He’s mad at me.”

The Master snorted a laugh, leaning against the wall, her arms folded over her chest. “I think he’s jealous.”

“Jealous?”

She made a sound of agreement, her eyes raking up and down your frame. “These look so pretty on you.”

Your eyes fell to where she was looking, seeing the scattered love bites across you. Memories of how her mouth had felt against your heated skin, wet and warm, sucking and biting over and over, moving her soft lips from the edge of your jaw to the inside of your thighs.

“You’re blushing.”

You shook your head, desperate not to embarrass yourself. “What are you doing here.”

She pulled you in close again, hips pressed together, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I came to bring home what is mine.”

“You what?”

It hadn’t occurred to you that your time spent with her might not have just been a one off. You had assumed that because she had sent you back to The Doctor, your time together was over and you wouldn’t see her again.

You couldn’t deny to yourself that it left a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you walked away from her, your feet desperate to turn and run back to bring you right back into her arms. It didn’t feel good, but you told yourself it was probably for the best, given your history with her.

“Don’t play dumb, love.” She twisted a strand of your hair around her finger, watching it as it uncoiled effortlessly. “You’re a smart girl.”

You almost missed the compliment, too confused about what was happening. “I thought that was the last time I’d see you.”

“Well then you thought wrong.” Her nonchalance was something you had always admired. Nothing seemed to phase her and you could only wish to be like that instead of worrying about so much all the time. “Is that what you were hoping for?”

Immediately your head began to shake, your eyes wide. “No, never!”

The Master laughed lightly, amused by your reaction and knew she had you eating right out of the palm of her hand. “So come back with me.”

Her tone was casual, sounding like a simple offer, but you knew her well enough to know that’s not what it was. She was telling you, demanding gently, that you take her hand without question or objection and follow her back to her ship and spend the rest of your days there right by her side. Just like the first time.

“I can’t leave him. Not again.” You focused your eyes on the small golden detailing of The Master’s shirt collar, mumbling almost inaudibly, knowing that denying her of what she wanted wouldn’t end well for you. “It would break his heart.”

“Darling,” she moved her face in front of yours, the tips of your noses brushing against each other softly. She held the side of your face, stroking your cheek with her thumb so slowly, so lovingly, you almost forgot why you were saying no. “He has two hearts for a reason.”

You couldn’t protest, her lips catching yours in a slow, but short lived kiss that stole your breath. You leaned into the touch of her hand on your face, your eyes closed, your chest pounding, your mind blank.

“He’ll be fine. You’ll be replaced in no time.” She rested her forehead against yours, her whispered words soothing to your ears despite their unkind nature, her other hand cupping the other side of your face. “Come back with me.”

“I want to, but…” you sighed deeply, feeling conflicted. You owed it to The Doctor to stay with him and make amends, to prove to him that you meant your apology, to be the companion you promised to be when you first met. But you belonged to The Master, mind, body and soul. Every part of you reacted in her presence, vibrating with raw energy, her words were your commands that you so willingly obeyed, her touch igniting flames across your skin you so desperately craved.

“Don’t make me say it, sweetheart.” She kissed along your jaw, slow and calculated, earning a contented sigh.

“Master…”

Her lips moved down your neck, one hand holding your head as it fell back, the other encircling your waist to keep you pressed against her as much as physically possible. “I tried to play nice, remember that.”

“Master, no.” Your plea sounded pathetic, breathy and stuttered. She knew your weaknesses and she would use them against you to get what she wanted. You knew that as soon as she began to praise you, you’d crumble and give in to her wishes.

She pressed your back against the wall, leaving no space for you to move. “I’ll just have to try it another way then.”

She shrugged off her coat and slowly rolled up her shirt sleeves to her elbows, never breaking eye contact, her tongue slipping out to wet her lips.

As she sunk to her knees in front of you, your heart rate picked up to a dangerous speed, your breathing shallow and short, anticipation holding you firmly in your place.

“Keep still.”

She carefully lifted your leg and allowed it to rest comfortably on her shoulder, pressing a slow kiss to the inside of your thigh just above the knee, leaving the shape of her lips printed on your skin in red lipstick.

You shuddered, eyes falling closed and head leaning back against the wall. She trailed her soft kisses upwards, towards the hem of your shorts, blending the red of her lips with the bluey purples of the love bites covering you into a work of art and earning a heavy sigh from deep in your lungs.

“We can’t do this.”

She looked up at you through her long eyelashes, a playful smirk on her ever so slightly smudged lips. “And why is that?”

“The Doctor,” you breathed heavily, looking over towards the general direction of the console room. “He’s right in there.”

She laughed, slipping the tip of her finger under the edge of your shorts and running it along the sensitive skin. “You better stay quiet then.”

A gasp forced its way from your throat as she placed another kiss even higher, open mouthed and scorching hot.

She removed the obstructing garment from you at lightning speed, placing your leg back in its previous position on her shoulder before you could form another coherent thought.

The Master pulled at the side of your panties, revealing even more of you to her greedy eyes. She placed her lips onto the sensitive spot where your hip met your leg, gently sucking on the skin for a moment.

“Come back with me.”

You shook your head no, sliding your hand into her hair and pulling her head back towards you.

Her next move meant business, determined to change your mind, set on controlling you through your weaknesses.

“Well in that case,” in once smooth motion, The Master pulled you to the other side of the corridor and held you facing forward against the wall, her front pressed to your back. “I won’t stop until you say yes.”

From this angle you could see The Doctor, his back turned to you, his head down as he worked relentlessly under control panels. A chill ran down your spine at the thought of him turning around and catching you with The Master, her lips now attached to the side of your neck, her hands holding your hips against hers.

The Master’s hand slipped into the front of your panties, coaxing a moan from you with her fingers. “Always so ready.”

It gave you a thrill to know that with just one sound too loud, The Doctor would hear you and turn, catching you in the act. You knew it was wrong to get excited over such a thing, but with your eyes focused on him and The Master’s hand tenderly rubbing circles beneath the thin fabric that covered you, it was almost too much.

A sharp hot pain came across the cheek of your behind, stinging in its aftermath. “Pay attention, darling.”

The burn lingered, but the pain turned to pleasure, a whimper forcing its way out. She did it again, the tingling pleasure filled pain returning and creeping up your spine and down your legs, the echo of the slap masked by the loud electrical sparking in the other room caused by The Doctor, flashes of light emitting into the corridor.

“Oh,” The Master’s tone was curious, an unseen smile on her face. “You like that, don't you?”

You nodded your head yes, not trusting your own voice. She continued her playful assault between your legs, lightly biting into your shoulder, creating new marks to accompany the old ones.

The harsh coldness of the metal wall pressed to your front was a stark contrast to the heat built up in the rest of your body, The Master’s own body temperature adding to the fire mixed with ice, battling against each other.

Your head lulled back to rest on The Master’s shoulder, your breathing coming in pants, a heavy pressure forming in the pit of your stomach. Eventually it became an impossible task to stay quiet, moans and whimpers spilling out of you like someone had just opened the floodgates.

“I adore the sounds you make, love.” The Master’s whisper in your ear was like a wave of indescribable pleasure crashing into you, your knees buckling. “But if you keep it up, he will hear. Is that what you want?”

With the volume of your moans increasing and the risk of The Doctor hearing and catching you, the more exciting it was for you. You knew he’d be upset and your trust and friendship would be broken forever, but the gamble made your legs weak and the pressure in your stomach threaten to explode.

“Yes.”

The Master laughed, picking up the speed of her hand. “Of course you do. Such a dirty girl.”

You were nearing the cliff edge, your mind fuzzy and your fingers clutching onto the arm The Master had around you to keep you upright.

“Come back with me.”

You shook your head, eyes squeezed closed. “Master…”

She applied even more pressure to the tips of her fingers, changing her pattern to something entirely more pleasurable. “Come back with me.”

“Master, please.”

“What is it, love? What do you want?” Her lips brushed against the shell of your ear as she spoke slowly.

“Say it. Please.”

She hummed in amusement, the sound of it almost drowned out by a deep moan that escaped you. “How about we make a deal?”

If your eyes had been open, you would’ve been blinded by bliss, bright and white hot. It was hard to imagine the knot inside you would be able to get any tighter and very soon it would snap. “Anything.”

“Tell me you’ll come back with me and I’ll say it.”

The Master was always good at getting what she wanted and you had presented her with an opportunity to do so. You couldn’t deny her anymore. The way she made you feel, the way she knew your mind, body and soul better than you knew them yourself, the way she held you like you were made just for her and fit right in perfectly.

You’d miss The Doctor. The way he laughed his infectiously joyous laugh, his old eyes that held a billion sparkling stars and his kindness to all no matter what. He’d given you a home, given you adventure and by his side, you made a name for yourself as someone who helped save worlds and their species.

You would miss it all, but you couldn’t deny The Master of anything she asked, not anymore. You would still have thrilling adventures with her, but they wouldn’t be the same. Your reputation would be crushed and you’d spend your days creating havoc and chaos amongst the universe, but if it meant having her touch you and whisper to you the way she does, you’d do anything.

“I’ll come with you.” Your voice was weak, several octaves higher than your normal pitch and stuttered almost beyond recognition.

You felt her smile against your cheek, her hand squeezing your waist. She had won you over, just like you knew she would, just like always.

“Good girl.”

With that, you slumped forward, the hot pressure in your belly exploding and sending shockwaves through the rest of your body, a loud squeal erupting from your throat.

The sound echoed around the TARDIS and just as The Doctor’s head snapped up and began to turn in your direction, The Master pressed a button on the device strapped to her wrist and you vanished from your spot in the corridor, materialising on the soft sheets of her bed.

“Get comfortable, darling, we’ll be here for the rest of the day.”

Taglist: @another-doctor-who-blog @queerconfusionthings @crazylittlereader2474

#doctor who imagine #whittaker!master #jodie whittaker #doctor x reader #the master x reader #the master imagine #whittaker!master x reader #w!master

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scarabbai · 3 years

Text

Adeptus Fragile! Handle with Care.

Rating: T

Relationships: Ganyu & Xiao | Alatus, Xiao | Alatus & Zhongli, Ganyu & Zhongli, etc.

Fic Summary:

Centuries have passed since the age of the Traveler and their companions, and the immortals of Teyvat—or what’s left of them—have moved on, living modern lives in modern times. The adepti of Liyue are no exception.

But when something rather unexpected happens, their modern life begins to get a little... too modern. One sunny morning, the great Conqueror of Demons, an accomplished senior in the ranks of the Adepti, wakes up and looks at the world with innocent eyes.

“Who am I?”

Archons, someone give poor Ganyu a break...

Chapter 1:

In which Xiao wakes up

AO3 Link

The first thought that comes to him when he wakes up is: Fuck, my head hurts.

The second one comes after, when he pulls the sheets tighter around himself and buries his face in his pillow with a groan: I don’t want to get up.

The third slams into him just as he’s about to fall back asleep: Wait, where am I?

He bolts upright in bed, shaking the sleep out of his eyes like a wet dog shaking out its fur. He regrets it when it only makes his headache worse, but the fact that he doesn’t recognize any of his surroundings when his eyes do a quick sweep of the room overshadows that.

Alright, this is fine. Everything is fine. Remain calm. Remain calm, uh...

The realization crashes down on him like a wave, leaving him cold and shivering.

He doesn’t even know his own name.

Okay. Okay, you know what? He can do this. He can work with this. First things first: get situated.

He makes a move to get out of bed, but with his legs tangled in the sheets, it ends with him taking a rather ungraceful tumble instead. His face burns with embarrassment when he lands on the floor with a thud, reduced to nothing more than a balled up heap of limbs. Frustrated, he kicks and struggles blindly, but it only gets him more jumbled up. He’s like a cat trying and failing to escape a blanket cocoon.

He huffs. Mortals and their needlessly irritating fabrics...

Wait, what? Where did that come from? He scrunches up his face in confusion, puzzled by his own thoughts.

Thankfully, he doesn’t need to think much more about it when he hears a knock at the door.

“Xiao,” calls a voice from outside the room, and his head snaps toward the sound. Shit, someone’s here. “Xiao, are you alright in there? I heard a loud noise.”

He doesn’t respond, not trusting his own ability to speak. What should he say? What should he do? And why is that voice, of all things, so familiar? It’s comforting, despite having no idea who it belongs to.

The knocking comes again, more insistent this time. “Xiao,” the voice repeats, firmer but concerned. “If you don’t say anything, I’m coming in!”

He struggles harder in response, but his awkward flailing gets him nowhere. He slumps in defeat. Apparently, this is his life. Whoever he is, bested by a very long and very tangled roll of cloth.

When the door opens, he freezes. A girl with light blue hair steps into the room. She has a gentle and earnest look to her despite the worry written all over her face, and...

Are those horns on her head?

There must be some kind of next level pathetic expression on his face because when she glances over and sees him looking the way he does on the floor, her first reaction isn’t laughter. Instead, she gasps in horror and rushes over, kneeling down and fretting over him in a way that makes him tense up and abandon the idea of wriggling free. He shrinks away and hides his face from her big, purple-pink-whatever colored eyes—they make him feel guilty, somehow.

“Xiao, what’s going on? What happened?” She reaches out but seems to rethink her decision, pulling her hand back before it can touch him. Is he poisonous or something? “It must be the karmic debt again... I’ll call Zhongli, he’ll know what to do.”

She’s back on her feet almost instantly, but before she can turn and leave, some unknown impulse—fear? Loneliness? Just the need for an explanation?—has him reaching out.

“Wait,” he pleads, and the sound of his own voice surprises him somehow. “Don’t go...”

The words stop her in her tracks. He can’t identify the emotion in her eyes when she slowly leans down again to take in his teary-eyed expression, but he thinks it might be uncertainty. Or suspicion? Maybe it’s just intense focus. He’s not sure what that something is, but he’s pretty sure now that he’s bad at reading people.

With that same look of scrutiny on her face, she cautiously reaches out and places a hand on his forehead. Her skin is cold to the touch, and he fights the urge to flinch away. He’s learning very quickly that he’s unused to physical contact.

Despite this, something inside him relaxes as the coolness spreads from his head to the rest of his body. She’s trustworthy, he decides. He may not know who she is or why her presence is so soothing, but he knows this.

Is she family? She feels like family. He does have a family, right?

A thoughtful—and somewhat displeased—hum breaks him out of his thoughts. Expression blank but eyes curious, he blinks up at her while she puts her hand to her chin and frowns at him. She seems troubled.

“Xiao–” She cuts herself off, worrying her lower lip in uncertainty. Dimly, he realizes she’s been referring to him by that the whole time—Xiao might be his name. “You’re... acting a bit strange this morning. And you came stumbling home last night, and you went to sleep when you never do, and...”

She sighs. Heavily. She sounds so distressed it makes him feel a bit sick in solidarity.

“I don’t mean to pry or overstep, but...” She pauses, unsure, and that inexplicable feeling of guilt returns to him in her brief silence. “Are you alright? I think there might be something wrong...” A look of alarm crosses her face, and she quickly backpedals. “Not with you, of course! I’m just saying...” She fidgets a little, but when she meets his eyes this time, her resolve seems stronger. “I’m just saying if you’ve gotten into any trouble, you can tell me. I’ll do my best to help, wherever I can. It’s the least I could do.”

He stares at her in response. She stares back, wilting a little.

Definitely family, he concludes. A doting older sister, perhaps.

Awkwardly, he realizes her silence means he should answer her somehow, but instead of replying with something intelligent or actually explaining himself, all his stupid mouth blurts is, “Good morning. Are you my big sister?”

He immediately wants to bury himself.

While she balks, caught off guard by his clearly uncharacteristic statement, he panics. More foolish nonsense spills out of his mouth, and between her confused spluttering and his inability to form proper words, their attempted conversation dissolves into an unrecognizable mess of half-formed sounds. It’s as if he isn’t used to speaking or hasn’t spoken in a long time, and this failed speech of his is making up for it.

In the end, none of what they attempted to say was actually comprehensible. He takes one look at the pure confusion—and maybe even a little horror, but he has a hard time telling—written all over her face and knows he has to try again. It appears he’s bad with words as well. Shame and frustration settle in his chest at this discovery.

The first thing he manages to come up with is, “Sorry.” He buries his face in the fabric wrapped around him, feeling small. “I don’t... know what’s happening,” he admits, and he hopes the note of fear in his voice is muffled. “I don’t remember anything. I don’t know who you are.” His eyes sting with tears. Suddenly, he feels pathetic. “I don’t even know who I am...”

Saying it out loud breaks something inside him—it all feels so much more real now, and he‘s so confused, so lost. What is he supposed to do? Who was he? Why did this happen? Frantic thoughts swell like rising water within him, and he sobs, drowning. He doesn’t know. He just doesn’t know.

The question that says it all falls from his lips like tears:

“Who am I?”

- - -

Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad.

She doesn’t know what she expected from this morning, but it certainly wasn’t this. It certainly wasn’t waking up to find Xiao—whom she greatly respects—in... whatever state it is he’s in.

He had called her big sister. Her! The big sister! The sheer disbelief she felt at those words—if anything, Xiao is the senior. His rank in adeptal affairs is higher than hers despite their ages, and their interactions have always reflected this. And if that wasn’t jarring enough, what he revealed next sent her reeling.

No memories. None at all. Can you believe that? The Conqueror of Demons with sudden amnesia? What is this? What has her life come to?

She realizes, belatedly, that Xiao is crying. He’s crying right now in front of her when he had never once showed an ounce of vulnerability before her in the past, and the sight is shocking.

Well, no time to lose. She has to do something, even if she’s not sure what exactly it is she should do.

Swallowing down her nerves, she tries to sound as gentle and reassuring as possible when she shushes him and murmurs, soothingly, “It’ll be alright, Xiao, it’ll be alright... You’ll be okay.”

As she says this, she awkwardly reaches down and—the act kills her a little inside—pats Xiao lightly on the head. Despite his sobbing, he calms slightly. That alone is enough to make her nerves fade just a little, and she takes the opportunity to help him out of the blanket bundle he’s gotten himself into. With careful hands, she unwraps the sheets tangled around his body, peeling away layer after layer until he goes from sad spring roll to just Xiao.

As she pulls back to assess her handiwork, it really strikes her how... small Xiao is.

He hasn’t gotten any shorter or thinner, his facial features are unchanged, and overall he looks the same as he did yesterday, but the way he holds himself now makes all the difference. His emotions are out in the open as he wipes at his tears, his heart unburdened by memory, his eyes innocent. Without the millenniums of suffering and coldness that defined him, he feels so young.

He’s just a boy, she thinks as she pulls him into a hug. He resists at first but settles into the embrace soon after, resting his chin on her shoulder. Mindful of the way he shakes with quieting sniffles, she rubs little circles into his back. The action seems to soothe him.

Ganyu considers the situation. This is okay, actually. This is alright. Zhongli-dàrén will help her figure out what has happened to Xiao when they go to him, but she can handle this for now. She can manage this.

Responsibility is a self assigned fate that has always fit her like a glove, and this is just another to add to her list of duties. Surely it won’t be that hard to look after her new little brother?

“Your name is Xiao,” she begins, voice soft. “I’m Ganyu.”

She feels rather than sees the nod Xiao gives in response. It makes her smile as she pets his hair.

“And you’re right, Xiao-dìdì. I’m your big sister, and I’ll take care of you.”

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin fic #genshin fanfic #genshin xiao #xiao genshin impact #genshin ganyu #ganyu genshin impact #my stuff #silly stuff this time uwu

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fallout4reactsblog · 4 years

Note

In my exploration for fanfic, I stumbled across a Soulmate AU in the Naruto fandom - but not just any Soulmate AU, oh no, it was something that instantly made me crack up (I'll explain why, hold on a sec). You're completely incapable of lying to your soulmate. Dead silence or weird stuttering, or maybe even a strangled noise when the words just won't come out. You just can't. *You can't.* And I thought of DEACON's reaction (lmao), and then thought the other companions would be fun/cute, too!

Cait: At least sole is nice enough to give her a beer, after the day she’s had. It’s an uncomfortably warm temperature from their bag, and it’s not the Gwinnett Stout she prefers, nor the hit of Psycho she needs, but it’s better than nothing. After all, it’s not like they’re obligated to treat her well, or even have an incentive to do so. She’s a bargaining chip that they foolishly accepted.

They return to the campfire, hair still slightly damp from washing out the blood and bone of former raiders. She has to admit that that was fun to watch, at least. They’d made quite a mess out of all those assholes, and seeing the pain be on them for a change was a sort of sick justice she never thought she’d get. She supposes she can cut them a little slack for that.

“Are you hungry?” they ask, rummaging through their bag. “I don’t eat much, but you’re welcome to have anything I’ve got in here.”

She doesn’t want their stupid pity, so she opens her mouth to snap at them and tell them no. She doesn’t want their food, nor the sad way they look at her, like she’s some sort of wounded animal.

Nothing comes out. The words are right there, burning to be said, but her mouth won’t move, and she suddenly can’t make a sound.

“Here.” They hand her what looks to be some sort of grilled meat on a skewer. “Try some squirrel. It’s fresh.”

She takes it wordlessly, still trying to understand what’s just happened to her.

“Have some water, too. You must be thirsty.”

Suddenly, there’s a can of water in her hands, too, and a knife to open it up.

“Do you need anything else?”

What she really needs is a hit of Psycho so she can make this all a fuzzy memory, but she’s not about to tell them that. It’s none of their business, frankly, and she doesn’t even trust them.

But she can’t say no. She just sits there, mouth open, trying to make any sound to refuse them, to tell them she doesn’t want their help, but her lips won’t move.

“Are you okay?” they ask, and she sees the concern in her eyes.

“I’m just trying to-” She cuts off at the words “say no,” and can’t speak again.

They sigh and lean back in the chair they’d dug out of an abandoned shack. “Cait, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you or anything. I just want to make sure I can take care of you. Since I got out of cryo, my human functions have been on the fritz, so I need you to tell me when you need food, water, or anything else. There’s no shame in it.”

The world is becoming far too clear around her for her taste. She wishes she could have stolen the Psycho stashes from the Combat Zone, but sole had gotten there first. All of her drugs are in their bag, just out of reach.

But she can’t tell them that. She can’t just admit to needing their help, because if she does- Well, she doesn’t want to think about it. But she can’t deny she really needs to be high, and she also can’t deny that the only supply is sitting by her new companion’s feet.

“Just- hand me some Psycho, will you?”

They comply without a word, digging into their bag to pull up a dose, careful of the needle. She snatches it from their hands, relieved to just have it again, and once the drug is rushing through her blood, everything feels better. She can think clearly enough to remember all those stupid conversations she’d overheard, that soulmate bullshit about not being able to lie.

She scowls across the campfire at them, where they’re cleaning their gun, and tries to figure out what the hell this means for her future.

Curie: She’s seen enough wounds to know when a limb is done for. She knows the limits of stimpacks, knows how far their healing can go, and whatever happened to sole to make their arm look like this is far beyond any medicine’s capabilities.

“How do we look?” they ask, dopey grin on their face. She’d administered some chems to at least take away the pain.

“Well-” She searches for the nicest way to tell them the truth.

Their arm is well beyond saving, and she knows it, but to have to tell them that seems impossible. Besides, she doesn’t know how they’ll react. No, she can’t tell them the truth. She’ll have to settle for the old tradition among healthcare professionals of lying and telling them everything will be fine.

But instead of comforting words and false niceties, what comes of out her mouth is a stuttering, jumbled mess of sounds, hopelessly incoherent.

“Don’t tell me you popped some pills, too, Curie.” They giggle a little. “I saw how that worked out for Earl Sterling. Hard pass.”

“No, I did not take any chems. I am just looking at your arm, that is all.”

“Am I gonna lose it?”

Again, she tries to comfort them with a small lie, but again, she stumbles so much over her words that nothing she’s saying makes sense. She frowns at her inability to be professional; after all, she’s lied to many people about their condition since getting out of the vault. This should be no different.

“Careful with that stuttering, doc. People will start to think we’re soulmates or something.”

Her hands freeze over a pair of scissors to cut off their sleeves. “Soulmates?”

“Yeah. You know, the whole ‘there’s one person in the world you can’t lie to, and that’s your soulmate’ thing? Did they teach you about that?”

“Certainly.” She begins cutting at their shirt. “I had just forgotten about it until now.”

“Me, too.” They sigh, a little wistfully. “It’s a shame I never found mine, I guess. They’re probably long dead by now.”

“I don’t think so, madame/monsieur.” A tiny smile creeps to her face, even as she pulls out some chems to sedate them. “But we will discuss this more when you wake up.”

“You know, Curie,” they say, as their eyelids grow heavy. “If I still have a soulmate out there, I hope it’s you.”

She barely has time to process what they’ve said before they’re out like a light, and she needs to get to work.

Danse: It’s easier to be honest at night.

The fire doesn’t quite illuminate sole’s face, just the barest hint of their features as they tell him a story about life before the war. A can of purified water dangles loosely from their fingertips, seemingly forgotten as they tell him about their life before the bombs fell. It’s nice to hear them talk about it; here, people tend to idealize what life must have been like before. To get a second opinion is refreshing.

“I think one of the worst things was the soulmate obsession,” they say. “Everyone was absolutely set on marrying their ‘one true love,’ you know? Most people didn’t even consider anyone else. They wanted their soulmate and their soulmate alone. It made being married pretty hard, especially once we had a kid. So many friends of ours were upset we weren’t trying to find the person who’d been chosen for us.”

“Your partner wasn’t your soulmate?”

They shake their head. “There was war hanging over our heads, and we were both getting to the age that we wanted to settle down. We were happy enough together, so we just went ahead and got married. Why not, right?”

“I suppose so.” Truth be told, he tries not to think about the idea of a soulmate too much. He has more important things to think about, and the idea seems almost childish. A fantasy for someone who doesn’t understand how hard the world is. “Do you regret your actions now?”

They shrug. “Not really. From what I’ve seen, being in love is tough these days.”

He has to agree with them there. “The Commonwealth is dangerous, and more so if you’re committed to protecting someone else. The stress alone of that bond would make survival here difficult. I can certainly see why you would choose to not pursue a romantic connection.”

“What if you did find them, though? What would you do?”

He thinks hard on the question. “The Brotherhood is where my loyalties lie. I don’t think I would prioritize someone else over my duties there.”

“Okay, but what if you didn’t have to? I mean, this person is supposedly your perfect other half. Maybe they would understand.”

He tries to tell them that it wouldn’t matter. Loyalties are loyalties, and he won’t allow someone else to disrupt that, but for some reason he can’t. The words won’t come.

“I suppose I’d have to talk to them about it,” he admits, still wondering why he can’t say what he wants to. “What about you?”

They shrug. “The same, I guess. I’d want to get to know them better, make sure we’re both on the same page.”

They continue on talking, but Danse finds it hard to concentrate all of a sudden. His inability to speak is troubling, and something he’ll need to investigate further.

Later, though. For now, he has to focus on his duties.

Deacon: He has no clue what the hell he’s supposed to do.

Everything had been going fine. He and sole had gone adventuring, and they’d passed by a group of supermutants, and he’d tried to make a joke about having seen a supermutant in drag one time. Just a little something to lighten the mood. The tiniest, whitest lie.

But he hadn’t, no, he couldn’t. His mouth wouldn’t let him. No matter how many times he’d tried, no matter how many different variants of the joke, he couldn’t do it. Because he’s never seen a supermutant in drag (or a deathclaw, or a mirelurk, or anything else) and now it turns out he can’t lie to them, which is inconvenient, to say the least.

He’s not an idiot. He knows he lies compulsively, without even thinking about it, and he knows he can’t stop and doesn’t want to. It’s easy to hide behind a wall of lies, and it’s definitely convenient if you don’t want anyone to ever know who you really are.

But to find out he not only has a soulmate, but that it’s sole, of all people, is really fucking up his day. Because sole is a badass, and the Railroad really, really needs them. And he knows that to get them through these first few weeks of getting settled, he’s going to need to twist the truth and make the Railroad seem like it’s their only option if they want peace. He also knows that he really likes them, and he usually lies to people he likes to make sure that they like him back.

Part of him tells him he has to stop working with them. If he can’t lie, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and who knows what he might tell them without thinking about it. But the other part of him does like sole, and wants to hang out with them more, and the only way to do that is to talk to them. Which means he’ll have to settle for not lying to them.

He doesn’t know if he can. He doesn’t know if they’re worth it. But there’s that tiny, nagging thought at the back of his head that tell him to forget the lying part, the fact that they’re his soulmate means he ought to at least try.

“Deacon!” Their head appears around a corner. “Want to go bust open a DIA cache with me?”

Like an idiot, he agrees.

Gage: They look like shit. Dark circles hang below their eyes, and there’s still blood on their lips from getting punched in the nose earlier. Those ghouls had really beaten the shit out of them, and even though their stimpacks had healed most of the damage, they still look like they’ve been through the wringer.

“Having a beer before bed?” he asks, settling into the chair across from them. He eyes the other three bottles lined up on the table suspiciously, and wonders if this is their first drink of the night. It doesn’t look likely.

“Having a beer before work, more like.” They rub a hand across their face as if they can scrub away their apparent exhaustion. “There’s too much to do. Can’t go to bed quite yet.”

“Don’t be stupid. If you’re not at your best, these pieces of shit will rip you up. You should sleep.”

“Careful, Gage.” Their eyes shine with mischief. “You keep talking like that, I’ll have to wonder if you actually care about me.”

He tries to tell them that he doesn’t care about them, but again, the words don’t come out. It’s strange. So often, when he tries to talk to them, he can’t speak, like he’s tongue-tied. It’s annoying, especially when he’s trying to get something out of them. He’s a good manipulator, and he knows that, but it’s hard to do that when he can’t seem to lie to them.

Which means, beyond any shadow of a doubt, the new Overboss happens to be his soulmate.

“Fucking hell,” he huffs, and grabs their beer to have a drink of his own.

“Something wrong, Gage?”

He shakes his head, trying to figure out how to phrase it without lying, exactly. “Nothing that I’d see as important.”

The truth is he’s never cared about having a soulmate. In fact, he was convinced he didn’t have one. Everyone around him is an idiot, weak, or too single-minded to impress him. He’d assumed a long time ago that there was no way any of them could be “the one,” and if they were, there was no way he was going to do anything about it.

But the Overboss, well, that was different. For one, it would definitely give him a tactical advantage, and it would make them want to keep him close. No chance of getting shut out. Also, in the part of him that he’d rather ignore, he had to admit that it wouldn’t be bad to be tied to them. They were the only one who he didn’t immediately peg as a moron, and they actually seemed to know what they were doing and how to do it. He liked that.

Yes, this was an advantage to him for sure. He just had to figure out a way to tell them without sounding like an idiot.

Hancock: “Hancock, how much have you had, exactly?”

He glances up to see them standing in the door, an almost disappointed look on their face. He knows them better than that, of course; their disappointment is their excuse to not show their concern. That’s okay, though. He understands.

“Not sure. Wanna join me?”

“John.” They fall to the couch beside him with a huff. “You know I have work to do. Responsibilities. Et cetera, et cetera.”

Laughing, he leans over to rest his head on their shoulder. “Me, too, sunshine. What’s your point?”

They gently tap a finger to what remains of his nose. “My point is we should be getting to those responsibilities, not getting high.”

He shrugs and burrows his head a little more firmly against their arm. They’re so warm, so comfortable, so patient with his antics. He supposes he’s lucky to have them. As they wrap an arm around his waist, he sighs contentedly, happy that they’re here. He can’t think of a single person he’d rather have at his side.

“I’m glad you’re here, sunshine. I missed you while you were gone.”

They lean to rest their head to his, their hair tickling at his scalp. “I missed you too.”

It occurs to him, somewhere at the very back of his mind, that this is probably what love feels like, or at least, what it probably should feel like. This contentment, this bliss. He could walk through fire for even a taste of this moment.

Gently, he takes their hand in his, running his fingers across their smooth skin. Their wedding band glints in the dim light of the Old State House, glimmering gold and perfectly cleaned.

“You must really miss your partner, huh?”

“I guess.” Idly, sole entwines their fingers. “It was hard, though. All our friends married their soulmates, but we never found ours. It was part of the reason we got married, actually; we were tired of waiting for someone we might never find.”

“You ever wonder who your soulmate was?”

“I try not to.”

He opens his mouth to agree, but something stops him. The words catch. It’s a lie, but one that he’s never had an issue telling. As far as everyone else knows, he never thinks about his soulmate, and doesn’t believe in the idea. But for some reason, no matter how he tries to phrase it, he just can’t tell sole.

“Sunshine, will you be honest with me a second?”

They laugh softly. “I’m always honest with you, John.”

“You’ve never lied to me?”

“Of course not.”

Despite how sedated he should feel, given how much Day Tripper he’s probably consumed today, his heartbeat kicks up into overdrive. Suddenly, he’s faced with the possibility of a soulmate, despite spending years denying they exist and longer trying to pretend they didn’t

“Why do you ask?”

As he tries and fails to tell them, “No reason,” he realizes how tough this is actually going to be.

MacCready: “Mac.”

He doesn’t respond. He knows that’s immature of him, but it’s what they deserve. After all, they didn’t tell him they’d joined the Railroad, he had to find out from some rando in Diamond City, so why should he tell them anything?

“Come on, RJ, stop being stupid. It’s not that big of a deal.”

It feels like a big deal, though. He’s trusted them so much, and they couldn’t bother to share this little tidbit of information? It’s not fair, and it definitely doesn’t earn them any conversation. Instead, he’ll sit here and clean his gun and stare sullenly at the fire. That’ll show them.

They huff, obviously irritated, and sit down beside him. He scoots away, which is definitely immature, but he’s beyond caring about his image at the moment. They scoot closer in retaliation.

“I don’t get why you’re so upset about such a little thing.”

“I’m not upset,” he snaps, or at least he tries, but it doesn’t come out like that. It comes out as unintelligible stuttering, and he freezes.

He knows this feeling; the way the words scramble in his mouth before he can say them. He’s felt it once before, years ago, and he thought he couldn’t have it again. After all, Lucy was his soulmate, wasn’t she? His one and only, the person he was meant to be with. But here he is, sitting with sole, unable to say a word.

“Come again?” they say, bumping his knee with theirs.

He stands, stomach twisting. It’s not possible to have another soulmate. He shouldn’t, he can’t. He won’t just leave her behind because suddenly sole is in the picture. Sure, they’re just the right amount of kind, they’re smarter than he is, and they always listen when he speaks. But that doesn’t make them his soulmate, and it doesn’t give him an excuse to move on.

“RJ, what’s wrong?” They stand up, too, peering into the darkness around their camp. “Did you hear something?”

The sound of their voice makes him want to throw up. Not because he hates them, to the contrary, he’s far more fond of them than he has any right to be.

“No. I need to take a walk.”

“It’s dangerous,” they protest. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

Their worry for him is endearing, but he needs to collect his thoughts quietly, before he says something he’ll regret.

“I’m not going far. I just need a minute.”

The fact that they accept it, trust him, and let him go makes everything that much worse.

Nick: “I swear I set it down right here.”

Nick watches them from across the agency, bemused smile on his face as they try to find the sunglasses perched on top of their head. For someone so intelligent, so clever, he’s almost impressed by their antics. Not just everyone can decipher a code, hack a terminal, and then turn around and lose the sunglasses that they’re wearing.

“Ellie, have you seen my glasses?”

“Nope, haven’t seen them.” She shoots Nick a mischievous look across the room, and he chuckles and shakes his head. God, she’s impossible in the most fun way.

“Nick?” The hero of the Commonwealth turns to him, next. “I thought I set them on your desk.”

He almost says, “I haven’t seen them,” but he can’t. Before he can even get the first syllable out, his lips freeze in place, and he can’t speak.

“Hello?” They wave a hand in front of his face. “Don’t tell me you’re glitching on me now, Nick. I still need you.”

“Ha ha,” he says sarcastically, batting their hand away. “I’m not glitching, just having a little trouble, that’s all.”

“Me, too, because I can’t find these stupid...”

They turn away to begin rifling through drawers. Ellie looks at him with a concerned look on her face, but he waves her off, mouthing, “I’m fine,” at her.

He’s surprised, though. He honestly thought he couldn’t have a soulmate, that his better half would be the same as pre-war Nick’s. After all, they do have the same memories, the same personality, they just happen to look a little different. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume that they would have the same soulmate.

He almost wishes they did, as he watches sole begin peering under desks. They deserve better. Someone who can keep up with them, who still has their youth and their whole life ahead of them. Besides, they’re probably still mourning their late spouse. He’s not sure how long he’ll be able to keep this a secret from them.

Especially since he can’t lie.

Piper: She sizes them up discreetly from across the room. They’ve curled up on her couch with the latest issue of the Publick, despite the fact that they proofread every article in it. Still, they look deeply invested. It’s flattering.

Now’s probably a good time, she thinks. She’s known Blue for a while now, and if they’re her soulmate she wouldn’t be upset in the slightest. After all, they’re clever, cute, and their butt looks great in their vault suit. She’s not going to get her hopes up, though, because Blue’s soulmate could have easily been alive with them all those years ago and now be long dead. But, if it does just so happen that everything works out in her favor, that would be almost too good to be true.

She picks a lie carefully, just in case the words actually can be spoken to them. She doesn’t want to sound stupid, or say something that’s embarrassing. Maybe something about her favorite flavor of Nuka-Cola? She’s always been pretty ambivalent about Nuka-Cherry.

“Hey, Blue.”

They glance up from the paper as if they forgot she was there altogether. “What is it, Piper?”

“Do you want to know a secret?”

“Absolutely.” They put the paper to the side and lean forward intently. “Spill.”

She smiles at their enthusiasm and attempts her lie. Nuka-Cherry is her favorite. Such a simple little thing, so inconsequential, something that would be so easy to lie about, if she could.

But she can’t.

“Piper? Are you gonna tell me your secret?”

Her smile spreads into a grin, and she winks at them in a way she hopes is cute and flirtatious. “We’re soulmates, Blue.”

“What?” They jump to their feet, eyes sparkling. “Are you serious?”

“Well, I can’t exactly lie to you about it.”

They’re across the room in an instant, sweeping her into a hug. “Holy shit! I thought I’d never find you, that I’d lost you when the bombs dropped. But you were here the whole time. I just had to get to you first.”

She laughs and wraps her arms around their neck. “That’s right! I was just waiting for you to finally show up.”

They stand in the middle of Piper’s home, arms wrapped around each other, enjoying a moment neither of them knew they would ever have.

Preston: “Preston.”

Their voice startles him. He hadn’t heard them come down the hall, and he hastily wipes the tears from his face and uncurls from his position in the corner. They’re standing in the doorway, green light illuminating the air around them. He forces a smile up to his face.

“Did you need something, General?”

“Nothing more important than you.” They step further into the room and sit down on the chair across from him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He stands up, straightening his coat out and dusting himself off, forcing away the thoughts of blood that threaten to cloud his vision.

“Preston. You can tell me. I’m not going to judge you.”

For a moment, he considers it. He could lay it all out in front of them, finally let someone else share the burden of Quincy and everything that followed. If nothing else, maybe it would help clear his mind.

But, he can’t. They’ve been through too much to have to shoulder his troubles as well. It would be unfair of him to ask them for help, and unfair to expect them to. They’re doing enough for the Minutemen already.

He doesn’t say that, though. In fact, he doesn’t say anything, because when he tries to tell them that he’s fine and that nothing’s wrong, the words scramble themselves on his tongue and emerge in a mess of sounds with no meaning.

They raise an eyebrow. “You okay there? You didn’t take anything strange, did you? I know Mama Murphy offers, but you don’t have to accept.”

He sighs, though the lightness of their voice does help to lift the mood in the room a little. “No, I didn’t take anything.”

“Well, that’s something, at least.” They reach into their bag which rests at their feet. “Do you want a gumdrop?”

He accepts, and the flavor of artificial orange offers him some comfort. It’s easier to forget about the darkness and rain and the taste of blood in his mouth with sole across from him and half an orange gumdrop in his hand.

“So what was it?” they ask as he chews.

He tries again to brush them off, but when the syllables scramble themselves up again, he gives up and falls back into silence. Across the room, he catches the faintest hint of a smile on their face, and for some reason that stings.

“What’s so funny?”

They wave a hand through the air, laughing just a little under their breath. “Preston, I don’t suppose you’ve ever met your soulmate?”

“I never really looked for them. It wasn’t really a priority, so I-” Realization dawns on him. “Oh. You think? We’re...?

“Well, you can’t just brush me off and tell me it’s nothing, which is what you’re trying to do. Just like I can’t tell you I’m fine when I’m not. It just makes sense.”

And, suddenly, it does.

A stupid grin finds his face as he looks at them, washed in green light from their Pip-Boy. In this moment, he can’t honestly think of anyone he’d rather be soulmates with. They’re perfect in every way. He couldn’t ask for better.

“Well, soulmate, how about you tell me what’s going on? I’d hate to leave you crying in the dark all alone.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “So you remember what I told you about Quincy...”

X6: Their face is furious. Anger blazes in their eyes with the heat of a thousand suns, hot enough that X6 suspects he might get burned if he steps any closer. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. He’s not supposed to be easily intimidated, but in this moment, sole is terrifying.

“Are you going to answer my question, or not?”

He’d very much like to answer their question. In fact, he’d love to tell them that he’s not been hiding anything from them, that he has no doubts about his loyalties, and that everything is functioning perfectly, but the words just won’t come. It doesn’t matter how many times he tries. Nothing. Works.

“X6, I’m starting to get very irritated.”

“It seems to me that you’re beyond irritated already.”

“Then that should be an incentive to tell me if you’ve been hiding something from me, and then lay out exactly what that thing is. Believe me, you will not like-”

“I’m trying,” he snaps, frustrated at himself for being so unable to complete this simple task. “Will you just give me a goddamn second?”

“I don’t know why you’re making this so difficult.”

He grapples with his lie again, attempting to force it from between his lips, but surrenders quickly in exasperation. “Believe me, neither do I.”

They shake their head and scrub a hand over their eyes, seemingly fed up. The look in their eyes is still anger, but a resigned kind, the kind that festers and breaks people apart. “Look. I’m not angry, and as long as it’s not going to hurt anyone, it’s fine. Don’t tell me. Whatever. I honestly don’t care anymore.”

Their scorn strikes a nerve, and X6, who is already at his breaking point with both them and himself, gives in. “Don’t insult me. You know as well as I do that if it were that simple, I would have told you by now. I don’t hide things unless it’s necessary, and I’ve never lied to you. As it turns out, I probably can’t, so you’ll just have to trust me when I say I won’t hide something from you unless it’s important.”

They blink once, eyes wide, seemingly stunned into silence. For the first time in what feels like hours, the air around them is quiet and almost peaceful. There are no angry words, no harsh accusations. They just stare at him as if in shock, and he takes the moment to compose himself again.

“You can’t lie to me?”

“It seems not. Probably because you’re the future Director, and it’s not logical for me to be able to lie to you. I would suppose I can’t lie to Father, either, but I’ve never tried.”

“No, I’ve looked through the data. That’s nowhere in the programming. You should be able to lie to anyone you need to, including me.”

“Well, I can’t. I suppose it’s a malfunction.”

“It could be, but...”

They look him in the eyes, open their mouth as if to speak, then snap it closed. A smirk finds their face, almost triumphant.

“That settles it. You’re not malfunctioning, X6. You just happen to have found your soulmate.”

That stops his train of thought dead in its tracks. While not unfamiliar with the concept of soulmates- he had heard some of the scientists discussing the matter- he had never put much thought to it. After all, as a synth he couldn’t have a soulmate, because he had no soul. At least, that was what he’d been taught, and what he’d believed for his entire life.

“A soulmate? You?”

“Seems that way.” They smile, all the anger now gone from their face. “Come on, let’s sit down by the fire. We should get to know each other a little better.”

Wordlessly, he agrees.

204 notes · View notes

ethereousdelirious · 3 years

Note

How about Nick Carraway with K1?

P.s. I love your blog!

This took me so long zksjfhd I don't even have an excuse

Also thank you!

Anyway, I tried something new with the POV and setting. I hope you like it!

It was an unseasonably cool day made cooler still by the stiff sea-breeze that blew off the Atlantic. The Coney Island boardwalk was not as crowded as it usually was, allowing Jay and Nick to stroll unimpeded along the worn wooden planks. Jay was in fine spirits, having finally been granted the opportunity to 'repay' Nick (as the idea of owing the man anything didn't sit quite right with him for reasons he did not pursue), and talked animatedly and they walked. "I love places like this. Don't you, old sport? All the people gathered around to have a good time. It just makes you hopeful. I ought to take Daisy here sometime." He sighed happily through his nose and slipped into temporary silence, utterly oblivious to Nick's plight.

Jay Gatsby was an unimpeachable host, attentive to each guest's needs. But somewhere along the line, Nick's rank had risen from 'guest' to 'friend' and, somewhat paradoxically, his treatment had suffered. Perhaps it was that Jay now expected him to speak up when something was amiss.

Nick, however, was ill-inclined to speak up on anyone's behalf, let alone his own. He shuffled along next to Jay as quickly as he could, trying desperately not to notice the way each step aggravated the cramping pain lacing through his stomach like a fishing net. It had come on quote suddenly, much to his despair, about as soon as they'd set foot out of the cab. Jay had been talking about this trip for days, so Nick resolved to keep his mouth shut.

He shuddered and wrapped an arm around his midsection, hoping it might quell the nausea rising in his belly. Yes, he would keep his mouth very tightly shut.

The pain and discomfort only worsened the longer they walked, passing by bench after bench that he longed to sink into. Escaping Jay's notice, he had gone dangerously pale. It was when he nearly lost his balance and had to stagger to steady himself that he finally spoke up, addressing the slowly-retreating form of Jay's back. "Can we stop for a moment?"

"What is it?" Jay asked, turning. His eyes widened when they fell on Nick, taking in his ashen face and the splay of palm over his belly. "Nick?"

It was one of the first and only times Nick's name left his lips. Nick relaxed a little, although he would never understand why, and let Jay guide him to the nearest bench. "Sorry," he muttered, shame now vying against the pain for his attention. "My stomach is killing me."

"And before you even got the chance to ride the Thunderbolt," Jay teased. Nick's lack of reaction sent a pang through his own stomach, and he sat down next to his companion. "Alright, let's take a look at you." He took Nick's chin in his hand, noting with some dismay the light greenish hue his face had taken on in the absence of healthy pink in his cheeks. A fine sheen of sweat coated his brow, dampening the hair at his temples. Jay paid it no mind and pressed his wrist to Nick's forehead, using his other hand to take his pulse at the neck.

Nick tolerated this somewhat distractedly, as he was busy trying to find some arrangement of his hands on his stomach that would abate the pain somewhat. The bite of the wind stole much of his warmth, but what little heat was able to leach from his palms to his belly seemed to help a bit. He huddled in on himself as much as he could with Jay's hands on him and tried not to look too pathetic.

"No fever," Jay said thoughtfully. "Pulse is elevated. Stay here; I'll call my driver."

He started to get up, sending a pulse of panic and shame through Nick's chest. "No!" Nick shot to his feet and instantly regretted it, doubling over against a new wave of agony. Hot, squeezing pain assaulted his abdomen, but he forced himself to stand straighter, not wanting to be left behind. "A cab is fine," he said through gritted teeth.

"You're quite the soldier, old sport," Jay said with a rueful smile. He offered Nick his arm. The poor thing could barely stand upright. Never mind the social reformers, Nick needed his help. He was such a shy, skittish thing, hadn't even spoken up about his stomach ache. Jay thought he should have paid more attention.

They went to Nick's house because Nick had asked, his voice almost a whisper. Something in him couldn't stand the idea of going to Jay's mansion, the excruciating expanse of it and the whispered suggestion of servants behind every wall. And he longed for his own bed, his own things. So the cab took them to Nick's, and he was able to curl up in his own bed.

He was a pitiful sight, pale and shaking atop the covers, both arms pressed tight against his aching stomach.

"I had a thought," said Jay, sitting down on the edge of Nick's bed. He reached his arm out and rested his hand on Nick's upper arm, using his thumb to rub circles over the cotton of Nick's shirt. "Sort of a balancing act."

Nick's only response was a muffled groan that vaguely resembled the word "anything."

Jay nodded and adjusted his position so he could rub Nick's back. "Something pleasant," he said, "to balance out all the unpleasantness."

Nick nodded and exhaled deeply, relaxing under Jay's touch. It didn't make the pain go away, but he felt better having someone else to focus on. Nick closed his eyes, secure in the conviction that everything would be okay as long as Jay was there.

#ethereous answers

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damnusillygoose · 3 years

Text

Jerza fanfiction

disclaimer: these characters belong to hiro sensei

title: Somebody is jealous

summary: will erza be able to maintain her calm when her beau starts getting a lot of female attention?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13786166/1/somebody-is-jealous

Erza was a jealous woman.

She wasn't insecure in her relationship with Jellal by any means, not that she had to vie for his attention. He gave it to her willingly. He made her feel loved, so much that she was practically brimming with it. He showed her his affection not only through words but also through his actions.

But that didn't mean she couldn't get jealous.

Jellal's popularity proliferated after he settled in magnolia and started indulging himself with voluntary service. Crime sorciere might be officially disbanded but the former members having spent ample amount of time with each other wanted to continue working together and take missions. They also diverted their funds to start an orphanage for abandoned children.

Their pious efforts were recognized and soon they started receiving all sorts of grants from public and from private companies in the form of corporate social responsibility. As the grand master of crime sorciere, Jellal was often called upon by organizations for collaborations and for interviews to further elaborate upon the work done by his guild.

Erza couldn't be happier for him but the limelight he received also turned out to be slightly infernal for her. Jellal became instantly well-known and even topped the charts of 'The Most Handsome Man Alive', dethroning Hibiki Lates who took pride upon himself for holding this position for 3 years plus.

She lost the counts of love letters that Jellal started receiving from his female following. Whenever they would go out to spend time with each other, there would always be eyes hawking him or pestering him for autographs. Erza really wanted to maintain her demeanor as a good girlfriend who doesn't get jealous when her partner gets excessive attention from the opposite gender but there had to be a limit right?

However, Erza was grateful for a fact that there was never a reciprocation from his end. Jellal never returned their efforts. He never bothered.

He was staunch in his belief and was firmly loyal to her.

The realization made her feel extremely loved.

'Stop brooding Erza, you look hideous.' Mirajane snapped Erza out of her murderous intent as she reached across the table enamored with mahogany wood to collect empty glasses.

'Mira! that reporter bitch is all over him again! Can I murder her?! '

'Calm down Erza. She is here for her job after all.'

'Her job is to interview and ask him substantial questions! Not throw herself all over him! He is clearly uncomfortable with her vexing advances. Is she blind or what?!' she roared as her fist slammed against the table top nearly knocking off the glasses in the tray.

Her abrupt yet fierce declaration was enough to scare Natsu and Gray who were once again at each other's throats. She was seething with anger and gritted her teeth with helplessness. She wanted to jump in and slap the day lights out of that abhorrent creature but she wouldn't dare disturb Jellal's interview. Fairy tail has a reputation to maintain anyways. Not that they had a respectable reputation to begin with but she wouldn't embarrass her guild any further.

Erza witnessed as that female reporter proceeded to smirk smugly at her paramour and leaned forward on the pretext of not being able to hear his answer owing to uproarious energy of the guild.

Jellal leaned back as his company continued to disrespect his personal space relentlessly.

'Mr. Fernandez, I think it's equally disturbing to interview you here. How about we move to my private chamber? No one would interrupt us there and we can take all the time we want', the female reporter purred and twisted her lips in a vicious smirk, touching the top of his hand.

'No, thank you. I can't afford that. My girlfriend is waiting for me. Let's wrap this up quickly', Jellal repudiated, pulling his hand aside, rejecting her advances in a disapproving grunt.

That's it! Erza stood up from her seat as she saw that wretched bitch lean towards him, churning with incorrigible wrath. Her emotional turmoil had successfully won over her and she was ready to slice that bitch into pieces. But before she could do anything, she saw her beau lightly bow his head towards his female companion displaying the dismissal of their conversation.

She inhaled a breath of relief as he walked towards her and took a seat beside her. His eyes looked genuinely tired and he rubbed his temples in exasperation.

Her anger melted into concern.

'Are you okay, Jellal? Was she pestering you a lot?' she asked empathetically.

'Yes, I am fine. I am glad it's over', he took her hand in his and entwined them firmly.

He gave her a worn-out smile as he requested Mira to bring him a drink.

'that bitch.' Erza cursed as she weaved her free arm to loop around his bicep. She rested her head against his shoulder and let out a sigh.

'I am fine, Erza. Seriously, Let's eat something and then we can head back home'

'I know you are saying this to put me at ease but we aren't heading back home Jellal. That bitch's presence will not ruin the party for us. We will enjoy till the very end'

Just when they thought the trouble was over, that female reporter strode unapologetically into their love nest.

'I am sorry to barge into your conversation but is it okay if I sit here? I am not familiar with anyone here and I only know Mr. Fernandez so...?'

Jellal clicked his tongue in annoyance and looked at Erza to check her reaction only to find her extremely calm and collected. However, He knew that her exterior appearance was a façade. She was probably singeing internally hotter than any inferno.

'sure', Erza replied in her imperturbable composure, her wrath at the brim of her limit, ready to walk over the barbwire at any moment.

Lucy and Cana marveled at the guts of this prying female as they witnessed this scene from the next table.

'So, how long you two been together?'

'I didn't know there was another interview?', Erza eyed her as she retorted sharply.

'nah, I am just curious about you two. You are a well-known couple in magnolia after all. Everyone looks up to you guys for couple goals.'

'About six months', Erza replied unsure whether this person was genuinely intrigued or mocking them half-heartedly.

'Ah. From what I have heard this is the first ever relationship for both of you, right? Six months isn't even a long time to know your partner intimately. People break up over minute scuffles all the time. Anyways, Mr. Fernandes, a handsome man like yourself must find himself flocked with female attention all the time, no? I don't think you should settle yourself in a relationship this early- '

This fucking bitch is going to breath her last breathe today! there is no way I am letting her out alive! Erza bellowed internally. How dare she insult her relationship like this?! This jerk continued to spew bullshit even when she was kind enough to overlook her advances towards Jellal earlier! How dare she-

'Ms. Erina, we don't recall asking for your unsolicited advice on our relationship. This is our private matter and we do not appreciate third party interferences. Your job was to interview me on professional basis and I can very well report back to your organization regarding your unethical behaviour. This can cost you your career and you know that', Jellal shot her down with his sharp retort. He took hold of Erza's hand in his, underneath the table, in a reassuring manner.

'but I was just kidding around- '

'We don't appreciate this degraded sense of humor. It was disrespectful and you were clearly trying to jeopardize my relationship', Jellal, when triggered, had no mercy for people who undermined his relationship with Erza.

'You've crossed the limits of my personal space and I ask you to leave'

His refute left Erina stunned. She had successfully seduced countless men in their so-called committed relationships but Jellal Fernandez was one such man she was unable to surmount no matter how many cheap tricks she pulled. Admitting her inevitable defeat, she stood up in shame, trembling with anger for he insulted her blatantly, dragged her feet across the guild hall, colliding with Kinana on her way, almost knocking off the drinks in her tray ,had Erik not intervened preventing her fall. He let out a muffled snare at the vile woman who passed by him. .

Jellal finally let out an audible sigh and looked at Erza.

'sorry, my love. You had to witness this', Jellal whispered anxiously. He moved his hand to fondle her inner thigh intimately in way he knew would calm her trembling down.

Erza had a wide smile that adorned her lips. She wasn't angry now. In fact, she was extremely satisfied the way Jellal shot her down. The respect and adoration he held for her was oozing out of every word he spoke. She loved him so much. Her ears felt warm as she snuggled into his shoulder.

'thank you Jellal. I am fine. I am not bothered by her ignorant remarks. She has no clue about what we both went through to stand where we are today and frankly I don't care', Erza stated, referring to their past history.

'if it doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me as well', Jellal smiled as he leaned down to capture her lips in a passionate kiss and then traced his soft lips against her jawline, giving her a peck on her cheeks.

Laxus looked at his buddy from the second floor, impressed, for he handled the situation very maturely.

'sheesh, that's a slick move Fernandes'

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please review if you liked it. Constructive criticism is appreciated.

#fairy tail #fairy tail 100 yq #jerza #jerza fanfiction #jellal fernandez #jellal x erza #jellal and erza #erza scarlet #Erza Titania

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 58 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Katya found out she might be pregnant, the assistant network caught on to BDR’s latest paramour, and Violet was ordered to go home and rest.

This Chapter: Gigi’s new look gets the reaction she’d hoped for, the twins enjoy some one on one time with their respective partners, Courtney has a rain-soaked nightmare, Pearl looks (but doesn’t touch) and Katya stresses.

***

Courtney knocked softly on Ivy’s door, a smile on her face that had been there almost all day. Fame had thankfully left early, she and Patrick spending the evening at some fancy opera event at the Met, leaving Courtney to get ready for her date in peace.

Her first official date with Bianca. It was almost too exciting for her to comprehend.

“Hey Courtney, what’s up?” Ivy asked, looking up from her computer, beckoning Courtney inside.

“Well, I have a date tonight...and it’s really important and I need to look hot and...I thought maybe I could borrow something from the closet again?”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fine. Um...let me just finish this email and then I’ll help you. Feel free to go have a look around, though.”

“Thanks.” Courtney bit her lip, sensing that Ivy was decidedly less enthusiastic about this than the last time she’d helped. She was probably in the middle of something important, maybe anxious about her own Friday night plans. Courtney felt bad, and would have told her to forget it if she had literally any other options. “I promise to be quick!”

“Yeah, no worries.”

Courtney kept her promise, pulling a short, royal blue dress with a high slit and a pair of strappy aqua shoes.

“Are you sure you wanna wear those shoes, Court? It’s kind of horrendous outside,” Ivy said, but Courtney shook her head.

“It’s fine, I’m just gonna be going into a cab and then inside. Thank you so much for your help!”

“No problem,” Ivy said, always gracious even when Courtney was obviously annoying her. “I hope you have a good time.”

“I’m sure I will!” Courtney exclaimed, taking the dress and shoes back to her own office to change, already feeling giddy with excitement, wondering what Bianca’s idea of ‘wining and dining’ would be like.

She took her time getting ready, freshening her hair with a curling iron she’d stashed in her desk and giving herself what she hoped was a sexy smoky eye. She kept an eye on the clock, knowing that Fame expected her to be in the office until 7:30. She chose a berry-colored lip gloss from the samples that Alaska had given her, and then stepped into the bathroom to get dressed, thrilled that the dress fit perfectly. She checked her phone and computer one more time before signing out, making sure that there were no last-minute requests from Miss Fame, and then made her way downstairs to grab a taxi.

She’s just settled into the backseat when a message came through that made her heart sink.

FAME: Dogwalker sick. Need you to walk Charles ASAP.

Courtney groaned, tapping on the glass partition to redirect the cab driver, and then texting Bianca.

COURTNEY: Still dealing with a work thing. I’m so so sorry, I might be a little late.

BIANCA: No rush. We can always push the reservation.

COURTNEY: I’ll tell you the second I’m on the way.

BIANCA: XX

Courtney knew that dog walking was an occasional part of her job, although it hadn’t come up yet before. However, she’d carefully read the 7 pages of instructions Violet left about him, knowing that Charles was Fame’s treasured companion and she would be toast if anything ever happened to him, and prepared for the time when she’d have to step up. She wasn’t terribly worried--after all, she loved dogs, and her own family had German Shepherds, so a big dog shouldn’t be any trouble.

But Charles wasn’t just big. He was massive, outweighing her by a hefty amount, first fighting her as she tried to put on the raincoat that he apparently hated, and then dragging her down the street so fast that she slipped on some ice, falling to her knees on the corner, immediately cursing herself for not listening to Ivy about those stupid shoes.

“Charles, sit!” Courtney was terrified that he would run into the street without her and get hurt, rain and sleet pummeling her face as she sacrificed her umbrella to grip the leash with both hands. As she tried to stand, a bus drove by, sloshing icy gutter water all over her. “Fucking shit!”

Charles, of course, paid no attention to her predicament, still single-mindedly bound for the edge of the park where he was trained to do his business. Courtney got up, shivering, and took him across the street, finding herself soon faced with picking up a steaming, human-sized pile of shit in the pouring rain. By the time they got back to Fame’s mud room and Charles properly toweled off (with him stepping all over her chest with muddy paws in the process), she was soaked to the bone and shivering like crazy.

She glanced at herself in the mirror, wincing at her soggy, lifeless hair and smeared eye makeup, knowing that there was no way she could show up for a date looking like that. She got out her phone, dialing Bianca’s number with shaking fingers.

“Hey, sunshine,” Bianca answered, and Courtney closed her eyes, cringing at how wrong that nickname was at the moment.

“Hi. Um...I don’t think I can make it tonight,” she said, trying her best not to cry.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just...I had a situation with Fame’s dog and I’m soaking wet and I look an absolute mess and I can’t-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa...are you okay? It’s freezing outside!” Bianca exclaimed.

“Yeah...I just...I should go home, I can’t-”

“You’re not seriously thinking about getting on a train to the Bronx right now, are you? You’ll die of hypothermia. I can hear your teeth chattering, for fuck’s sake.”

“But I can’t go out, I look-”

“Okay, then we’ll stay in.”

“But you wanted to go out, and-”

“No, I wanted to spend time with you. I’m starting a hot bath right now. Get a cab, come over, I’ll see you in ten minutes,” Bianca instructed, and Courtney couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief that someone else was taking charge of the situation.

***

Gigi couldn’t stop staring at herself in the hallway mirror, her fingers gliding through her silky soft hair for the third time.

It was the most gorgeous deep auburn red, the color bringing out her freckles and playing up her grey eyes.

She looked like a completely different person, and she loved it.

“Looks like someones been to Juju’s.”

Gigi turned to see Symone leaning against the doorframe, a smile on her face, the adorable gap between her white front teeth stupidly charming.

“What gave it away?” Gigi giggled, throwing her hair over her shoulder.

“Just wait til you go shopping.” Symone grinned, her jeans slung low on her hips. “The underwear I have now is more expensive than any other clothes I have ever owned.”

“You got new underwear?” Gigi felt her eyes widened. “With like… With Sutan?” She bit her lip. Sutan had gone with her to the salon, him and Juju talking quietly while she was getting her hair washed by an assistant. They had obviously made the right choice, Gigi feeling like a superhero, but she couldn’t imagine any man coming with her to a lingerie store.

“Sure.” Symone shrugged. “It’s all ‘foundational undergarments’ and ‘French cut’ this, ‘t-shirt bra’ that. ‘You need a secure adhesive backless’. Where I’m from we just call those chicken cutlets.” Symone smiled. “For my first fitting, he asked me to wear high rise briefs and a seamless bra. I felt like my grandma.”

Gigi laughed, the tiny worry she had felt flare up already gone again.

“Do you want to cook dinner together?” Symone pushed out from the door, and Gigi nodded, this modeling thing already so much better than she had dared hoped for.

***

“Ah!” Violet moaned as Sutan pushed her forward, his body boxing her in and keeping her in place. They were in the kitchen, the counter digging into her hips.

“Hey gorgeous,” Sutan’s voice was low, his lips against her neck, his warmth breath tickling her skin. She felt him grab the edge of her skirt, hiking it up and over her knees, thighs and even ass as he pulled it higher and higher, pooling it on the counter, forcing Violet to hold it herself, his hand guiding her before he let go.

“Please-“ Violet groaned, his fingers digging into the fabric, every move she made exposing herself further.

“Please what?”

She could feel Sutan’s fingers glide up her outer thigh and Violet blushed, her core burning hot, her panties getting wetter by the second.

“Please-“

It felt absolutely filthy, and so fucking good, Sutan in complete control and Violet loved it.

They were both tipsy, their wine glasses and dinner plates in the sink, the dishes completely forgotten when Sutan had given Violet a quick kiss that had developed into so much more.

“Please what lovely eyes?” Sutan’s voice was silky smooth, nothing in his tone betraying the way his fingers danced over her ass cheek, nails scratching on skin, a fingertip sneaking under the lace.

“I-“ Violet swallowed. She felt like she was drowning, wanted to drown, wanted to disappear in everything Sutan was. “I-“

“Tell me,” Sutan whispered, his lips against her ear. “Or I might punish you darling.” He leaned forward, pushing her that little bit further, and that was when it happened.

“Ah!” Violet closed her eyes, a blinding pain shooting through her. “Wait! Wait wait wait!”

Her foot had gotten caught on an angle, and Sutan jumped backwards.

“Wait,” Violet took a deep breath through her nose, the pain already disappearing, frustrated tears welling up in her eyes. “Fuck-“

“Everything okay?”

Violet turned around to see that Sutan had taken literal steps back, his trousers still tented, his dick obviously hard underneath the zipper.

“Mmh,” Violet nodded, the delightful embarrassment from earlier replaced with something that felt a lot more like shame, her eyes focused on Sutan’s feet. “I-“

“Can I touch you again?”

Violet’s head snapped up, Sutan looking at her, a glimpse of insecurity in his eyes, almost like he was the one who had done something wrong.

“Please-“ Violet opened her arms, and seconds later she could bury her face in his neck, his arms around her, holding her tight, kisses pressed into her hair.

“I’m sorry,” Sutan murmed, his voice low. “I didn’t mean to-“

“I know-“ Violet smiled, the apology so unnecessary it was almost comical. “I know.”

“Good.” Sutan pulled back, a hand in her hair tilting Violet’s head upwards so he could look at her. “Good. I shouldn’t have-“

Violet leaned forward, shutting him up with a kiss, her arms going around his neck as she held him tight.

***

When her cab pulled up in front of Bianca’s building, the doorman immediately rushed forward to open her door. She was fumbling with her credit card, fingers still stiff and cold, but he gestured for her to put it away.

“Ms. Del Rio is taking care of that,” he said, handing over some cash to the driver, then covering her with an umbrella and walking her to the lobby, where she was sent up in a different elevator than last time, directly to Bianca’s second floor, right outside her bedroom.

Courtney clutched her soaking wet jacket, trying to get her bearings when Bianca appeared around the corner, looking at her with concern and dismay.

“Omigod, baby, come here…”

Courtney barely knew what was happening as Bianca rushed her into the bathroom, helping her strip off her wet things.

“What the fuck are you doing in these shoes in this weather? And this jacket--why aren’t you in a winter coat?” Bianca asked, dropping it to the floor and then unzipping her dress, her voice gentle despite the scolding words.

“Th-that is my winter coat.”

“That’s not a winter coat,” Bianca informed her, pulling the dress down.

Courtney didn’t have the energy to protest, and besides, she was much more concerned with the dress.

“The dress isn’t mine, I think I ruined it-” she began, voice breaking, and Bianca looked it over while she stepped out of her panties and placed her jewelry on the counter.

“It’ll be fine, it just needs to be cleaned,” Bianca promised, leading her, still shivering, over to the jacuzzi tub, where a huge pile of bubbles was waiting for her. “I didn’t make it too hot, because I didn’t want to shock your system. But you can change the temp if you want.”

Courtney sank into the bubbles, the water silky and warm as a hug. After a few seconds, she finally began to feel her fingers and toes again, flexing them under the water, a sigh leaving her. She looked up, where Bianca was setting a remote control at the edge of the tub--which apparently controlled the jets and the temperature and even the lights. Courtney had never seen anything like it. She’d also put out a whole basket of bath products and lit a couple of candles.

“I’ll give you some privacy now,” Bianca said. “I left some towels and a robe on the warmer, and uh...if you need anything else, just let me know, okay?”

“Can you stay?”

It was embarrassing to admit, but Courtney didn’t want to be alone right now. Bianca didn’t make her feel weird about it though, simply took a seat on the ledge beside her, chatting about her trip, the trouble her staff had created while she was away, her voice soothing as Courtney leaned back against the terry cloth pillow with her eyes shut.

After she’d warmed up a little, Bianca washed her hair, strong and sure fingertips massaging the lather into her scalp as the other hand cradled her neck. She then helped her dry off with heated towels, and finally wrapped her in a warm fluffy robe while she ran a blow dryer through her hair. Courtney couldn’t remember ever feeling this cared for in her life, not even as a child, and if it wasn’t such absolute heaven, she’d probably feel ashamed at how much she enjoyed it.

She managed to swallow down a few mouthfuls of soup from the Chinese delivery that Bianca had ordered for dinner before her eyelids began to droop. Bianca noticed immediately, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then leading her to bed. She curled into Bianca’s arms, limbs growing heavy as hands stroked her back soothingly.

“Do you feel better now, angel?” Bianca asked.

“I felt better the second I walked in the door,” Courtney murmured.

“Yeah?”

“I guess there’s not really a door. The second I stepped off your elevator,” Courtney said, making Bianca laugh, her sleepiness causing her to be more honest than was probably called for, adding a whispered, “You make everything better.”

***

Pearl sat at a stool towards the back of the club, nursing a drink while telling herself over and over again that she was doing nothing wrong.

For one thing, she and Adore were over. Actually, fully over. And for another, she had no idea if Dahlia was even dancing tonight. She’d just come by for a casual drink...for the third time in 3 days. Just to see. Just to look.

And there was nothing wrong with looking, right? Even if she had lied to Trixie and Katya about where she was.

Pearl had already brushed off a parade of girls, tipping all of them, but saying no to everything else they offered, since she didn’t want to miss her chance of seeing Dahlia.

She was just about to give up, when one of the last dancers of the night came on, and there, there she was.

Dahlia was just as beautiful as Pearl remembered her, even more beautiful actually, since her costume for the night was the naughtiest sheer black teddy and lace panties, tiny little pink bows attached to the spaghetti straps of her top.

Her brown hair was styled in a delicate mess of brown curls, her plump lips painted pink, her eyes heavy and sultry, Dahlia looking like a sex kitten getting ready to go on the prowl.

Pearl swallowed as ‘Kiss It Better’ by Rihanna started playing, taking a big gulp of her drink.

Pearl hadn’t known if she wanted Dahlia to notice that she was there, hadn’t really thought this through at all, but when Dahlia dipped down on the pole, her ass beyond perfection, their eyes met across the room.

Pearl watched as Dahlia’s lips parted for a second, her eyes widening, but then, she smirked, throwing her hair over her shoulder.

***

“Mmh,” Raven moaned, her fingers in Raja’s long dark hair, her fiancée's lips on her neck, one of her hands up her top. They had been watching a movie on the couch, staying in just the two of them such a rare treat that they had even made popcorn. “Please-”

“Please?” Raja grinned, her long body on top of Raven’s under their blanket, their movie completely forgotten. “Are you being polite princess?”

“Fuck off.” Raven showed Raja’s shoulder, which only made the older woman laugh. “I’m perfectly polite.”

“Sure,” Raja smiled, shifting her knee so it slid in between Raven’s thighs, her skirt riding up to make room for Raja’s pant covered leg. “That’s what I love about you. How polite you are.”

Raven pulled on Raja’s hair, a surprised gasp leaving her girlfriend. She thrusted her hips, forcing Raja off balance and down in a messy kiss, teeth clacking, their lipsticks smearing, Raven taking charge.

***

“Just a few more minutes.” Trixie smiled, his open palm resting on Katya’s knee, his thumb rubbing up and down, trying his best to be comforting.

They were in the bathroom, Katya sitting on the closed toilet while Trixie knelt on the floor next to her, the elephant in the room the pregnancy test that was lying on the edge of the sink, both of them doing their damndest not to look at it yet.

He could tell she was anxious, knew that from the second she told him that she’d bought the test after work, even before she admitted that she was afraid to take it.

Trixie had always assumed that one day he’d be a father, and he was certain that Katya would be the best mom ever, so in his mind, this news was either amazingly exciting or slightly disappointing.

But Katya was another story, her clear terror making him dampen his own enthusiasm so that she felt safe to express herself. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel guilty for being scared on top of everything else. He knew, also, that there was a chance that she wouldn’t want this potential baby, so he prepared himself mentally to support her in whatever she wanted to do.

“I love you,” he offered softly, adding, “And it’ll be okay, no matter what it says.”

“Mmhmm,” Katya murmured agreement, though her eyes said that she didn’t fully believe him.

“Yo yo yo, where my bitches at?!” called out a voice, the slur telling them that Pearl had been drinking quite a bit.

Trixie assumed that Katya wouldn’t want to be interrupted during this private moment, but apparently, he was wrong.

“We’re in here!” Katya called, and Pearl’s heavy footsteps approached the door, pushing it open.

“This is a weird place for a party, dudes,” Pearl said, jacket hanging off one of her shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“Umm…” Trixie considered how to handle the situation delicately.

“I might be knocked up,” Katya said quickly, and Pearl’s eyes grew large, her mouth falling open.

“Wh-how?”

“Probably sex,” she answered, and all three of them laughed, breaking the tension just a little.

“So…” Pearl plopped down beside Trixie on the tile floor, and a rush of gratitude flooded his heart, relieved for the distraction, understanding why Katya called her in. That is, until she asked, “Have we thought about names? Cause I’d like to submit ‘Pearl Junior’ for consideration.”

“Pearl Junior?” Trixie scoffed. “Why, you’re not the father.”

“Come on! Little Pearlie J. P.J.?!”

“I don’t hate it,” Katya said, and Pearl cheered, giving her a fist bump. “But remember, I might not even be pregnant.”

“True, but you guys are getting married. It’ll be relevant eventually.”

“Not necessarily,” said Katya, gripping Trixie’s hand tighter. He squeezed her back in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

“Yuh huh! That’s why we call you ‘breeders’!” Pearl insisted.

“But I just don’t-” Katya began, but was interrupted by the timer on Trixie’s phone.

“You ready?” he asked, taking both of her hands in his.

“No.”

“Well...remember, sometimes these tests aren’t 100% accurate. So whatever it says, it might not mean...” He reached out, catching a tear that had slipped down her cheek. “Babe…”

“I know. But I...can’t look.” Katya curled into his arms, burying her face in his neck. “You do it.”

Unfortunately, the stick was just out of reach, unless he let go of her, which he wasn’t prepared to do.

“Pearl, can you-”

“Sure.” Pearl snatched the test off the sink, looking at it, brow furrowed. “What the fuck does 11 mean?”

Katya’s head snapped up, reaching for the test while Pearl picked up the box.

“Why would it say 11? That’s so dumb, how do you know if...ohhhh.”

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generallynerdy · 3 years

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And they’ve already began forgetting, whether they know it or not (Cal Kestis/Hera Syndulla/Kanan Jarrus)

Summary: With Vader on their tails, Cal tells Hera a hard truth. She doesn’t want to hear it, but she needs to. The only question is, will Kanan ever forgive them for this?

Warnings: Angst, Fake Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Burns, Serious Injuries, Self-Sacrifice, Goodbyes, Nightmares, Scars

Word Count: 2,343

Prompt: Angstpril Day 1 - “You have to let me go.”

Author’s Note: you know the Inquisitor!Cal concept I was ranting about? Yeah, this is the start of it lol. I saw that the first Angstpril prompt matched one of my lines of dialogue perfectly and lost my shit, so it’s basically destiny. I hope to continue this in the future as a series, but for now enjoy this terrible, depressing one-shot. :) Title is from Obituary Generator by Mariah Bosch.

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“Hera!”

She won’t stop running. Her body burns with the effort and Cal tugs her hand, trying to stop her, but she keeps going. She may not be able to feel the poison of Vader’s presence quite so literally as he and Kanan can, but she knows he’s not far away.

“They’re in the tunnel, it’s not much farther—” she manages breathlessly.

“Hera, stop!”

He stops cold, forcing her to turn and face him.

The lights flicker in the lifeless hallway, the pair the only people in sight. The floor is cold and the walls dark, the choking colour scheme of an Imperial fortress. Cal feels it more than she does; the Force here is entirely dark and threatens to drown him each passing moment. Maybe that’s why he’s more winded than his Twi’lek companion, or maybe it’s the lightsaber wound across his chest.

Hera had managed to save him from dying at Vader’s blade, but that scar will always remain. It burns into his skin like shame.

“If Vader catches up,” Cal gasps out, breath heaving, “he’ll kill all of us.”

“He won’t if we keep going,” she says sharply, ever sure of herself. “C’mon—”

He pulls her back before she can keep walking. “Hera.” It’s firm and fearful enough to keep her still. “I can distract him.”

BD-1, on the floor next to his feet, wails in distress.

Her eyes widen. “No. No! No, absolutely not—”

“I’m a liability,” he argues, unable to even gesture to his injury without wincing at the pull. “He can’t get his hands on the holocron. If you run ahead, you can get it to Kanan and Cere and the three of you can get the hell out of here.”

“He will kill you!” She grabs his poncho and holds him close. “Or worse, turn you into an Inquisitor!”

Cal cradles her face, his eyes shining with desperation. “My life for thousands,” he whispers. “Like my Masters before me.”

“I can’t let you do this, Cal.”

Already, she’s crying. He’s a stubborn son of a bitch and they both know it. The decision might have already been made, considering the ache she already feels in her chest. It’s not her choice and yet she feels guilt rise like nausea.

He reveals the Holocron, pressing it into her shaking hands. “Bring it to Cere. Protect it with your lives or destroy it,” he orders. “Give those kids the chance me and Kanan never got.”

The chance to live. He thinks of Master Jaro, of Master Depa, Grey, and Styles. He thinks of his fellow Padawans, all cut down in the name of power. But most of all he thinks of the children listed in that Holocron, who have committed a crime all their lives without ever knowing it.

BD whirrs and it pulls in Cal’s chest. He gives a sad smile, crouching to the little droid’s height.

“Go with Hera, buddy, okay? She’ll take care of you.” He pets BD’s head, trying to ignore the whines he makes. After a moment, he looks back up at Hera. “I’ll hold him back as long as I can.”

A sob lodges itself in Hera’s throat. “Kanan will never forgive you.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but Cal shuts his eyes tight, pained by the thought as he stands again.

“And you will?” he asks with a rueful huff of laughter.

She puts a gentle hand on his cheek, caressing a scar that rests there. “I already have,” she murmurs.

He shuts his eyes again, that same grimace on his face as he rests his forehead against hers. Then, he kisses her. It’s gentle and drawn out, a lingering sensation against her salty lips. She takes it with an aching sort of grief, the pit of a forbidden knowledge heavy in her stomach. No one should know when their last interaction with someone is, but she does.

“That was for you,” Cal says when he pulls back.

He kisses her again, fiercely this time. It has a message, one she doesn’t understand.

“That was for Kanan.”

He’ll understand it, even if she never will.

Hera hugs him, burying her face in his shoulder as his hand rests on her back. One of her lekku twists around his wrist, as if reminding her of his steadily beating pulse.

Alarms begin to roar around them, a warning.

“Hera.” It’s gentle at first, but he must sense something because desperation catches in his voice. “You have to let me go. Let go. Hera, let go.”

He pries her off, taking her hands in his gloved ones. Though it’s ridiculous, he wishes that an Echo of hers would spark to life and give him one last memory to think of. Instead, he’s left wiping away the remnant of a tear from her cheek. He steps back after, pulling his lightsaber off his belt.

Hera swallows. “Cal, I—”

I love you.

She can’t say it. And she curses herself for it.

They’ve never needed words, but it would mean everything to hear it out loud, just once. Just once, she begs her own unmoving lips.

He smiles, knowing and sad and all the more infuriating. “Me, too,” he whispers.

Not too far away now, another lightsaber buzzes to life.

“Go,” he says finally, his face sharpening into something like determination. “Get out of here!”

She nods and tucks the holocron away into her jacket, allowing BD to hop onto her shoulder. Her first steps are in lead boots, but finally, she manages to shake herself out of her stupor and turn away, running toward the exit. It takes everything in her not to look back, not to seek out one last glimpse of that fiery red hair and the twin pair of yellow blades that snap and hiss as they activate. BD watches, though, a little light blinking on the side of his head. He chirps, almost like a goodbye, but Cal never hears it.

Opposite Cal, the shadow of the galaxy’s golden age looms. He brandishes his blood-red blade, bathed in red and yellow light. His rasping breaths haunt the air.

Though it burns more than anything Cal has ever felt before, he twirls his double-bladed lightsaber, letting its golden light wash over him, secure in the knowledge that his fate is his own.

Finally, the ghost speaks.

“Your attempts are admirable, but useless. You and your friends will fall at my hand. There is no escape.”

“Does it look like I’m running?” Cal asks, settling into a fighting stance. “Musty bitch.”

Hera flies up from bed, her throat burning like she’s been screaming.

A jerk away from the cold metal wall of her bunk sends her over the edge of it, right toward the floor. She has half a second to close her eyes and brace herself for the impact, but—

It never comes.

She opens her eyes, only to find the floor a few inches away. A green mist encompasses her body, holding her up and keeping her safe. Glancing at the door of her room, she sees Merrin in the doorway, her fingers smoking with that same green mist.

“You should think about installing railings,” the Nightsister says dryly.

Hera only huffs and tenses when she starts to move. With a wave of Merrin’s pale hand, she’s standing upright and is let down carefully. She steadies herself with a deep breath, unaware of the little droid at her friend’s heels.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, dusting herself off. Then, she glances up. “How did you know I was—?”

“I didn’t. Cere asked me to check on you. Lucky for your face.”

If Hera didn’t know her any better, it would be sharp, but unfortunately, she does. So, she snorts. “Lucky for the floor.”

She goes to stretch, her muscles sore with sleep. Instead, she stops abruptly, wincing when her lekku tingles. Lifting a hand to its end, she doesn’t notice the flash of concern on Merrin’s face until she speaks again.

“Alright?”

“Fine, just slept on it funny. It’s numb,” she admits with a rueful laugh.

Raising an eyebrow, Merrin wiggles her fingers, miming magick. “I can help,” she suggests.

Hera visibly hesitates. “...you can?”

Nightsister magicks tend to be dark, according to Kanan and, once upon a time, Cal, but that doesn’t mean they always are. They have the capacity to heal and, though aware of that, Hera didn’t realise they could help with numbness of all things.

“A touch of healing magick and a massage,” Merrin explains shortly. “It’s not rocket science.”

Hera laughs. “If it were, I’d understand it.” Then, she nods. “I’d appreciate it.”

They settle on the bottom bunk, which usually belongs to Sabine. However, the teen has been trying to barter for the top bunk and, with this latest fall, Hera is tempted to give in. The young Mandalorian is sturdier than she is and far less prone to night terrors.

Merrin has a surprisingly gentle touch, carefully interwoven with wisps of glowing mist. Despite her initial reluctance, Hera lets out a grateful sigh when the feeling starts to return to her lekku. It’s like walking around swinging a numb arm; intensely uncomfortable. While Merrin works, BD-1 approaches, beeping concernedly and nudging the Twi’lek’s leg with his head.

“I’m okay, BD,” she reassures gently.

After a moment, Merrin speaks in a whisper. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hera has to look away from BD-1, something in her chest wrenching. She shuts her eyes. “No,” she says finally. “Not really.”

Merrin must notice her reaction to their droid friend because after a long enough moment to be somewhat normal, she speaks to him. “BD, could you go find her head wrap? She might have left it on the Mantis.”

He leaps up, chirping determinedly. When he rushes out of the room, intent on helping, Hera can’t help but let out a breath of relief.

Still working away, Merrin sighs. “You should hang back when we get to Lothal. We could use a pilot in case things go wrong.”

“Greez already offered,” she reminds her, frowning.

“The Mantis isn’t exactly ideal for the type of cargo we’re... borrowing.” She pauses. “Besides, you need a break.”

“I’m fine.”

She scoffs. “Yes, falling from your bed in a fit of terror is the behaviour of a fine person.” At Hera’s silence, she sighs again. “Look, I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Things have been difficult lately and whatever you see in your sleep isn’t helping. Just...let yourself rest, Hera. The galaxy won’t implode if you take a nap.”

Tell that to the Empire. Maybe they’d hold off on pulling the trigger, she thinks ruefully.

Eventually, she relaxes, and when Merrin finishes, BD reappears. This time, however, he’s not alone. Kanan stands a step behind him, eyes tight with worry. The weight on his shoulders lessens minutely at the sight of Hera.

BD ignores him, running up to the Twi’lek with her leather headwrap held tight in one metal foot. He beeps excitedly as he hands it to her.

She gives him as much of a smile as she can currently manage. “Thank you, BD. You’re my hero.”

He nudges her fondly before scampering over to Merrin, who huffs amusedly.

“C’mon,” she says, leaning down as she stands from the bunk so he can leap onto her shoulder. “Let’s see if we can’t coax Rabid out, hm?”

On their way out of the room, she sends a knowing glance at both Hera and Kanan before the door shuts behind her. Her voice, directed toward the devil droid on her shoulder, starts to fade after a few moments, growing more distant.

“I…” Kanan has to clear his throat, which is drier than Tatooine. “I felt your distress in the Force. Came back as soon as I could. You okay?”

Hera takes a moment to slip on her headwrap, grateful at the fact that her lekku are no longer tingling. “Better now, I think,” she admits.

He takes a step forward, asking. At her nod, he moves to sit beside her on the lower bunk and pulls her to his side. She rests her head on his shoulder. Shutting her eyes, she finally lets herself relax, knowing that she must be safe here, of all places. She takes comfort in Kanan’s touch and the way he runs his thumb across her shoulder, too. His breath of relief against her forehead makes her smile, just a little.

(And it certainly helps to clutch the stupid poncho he’s wearing in her hand. It’s an ugly near-white with black patterning that forms an arrow near the bottom. Outlander was what Cal called it. He loved giving them dramatic names like he’d made his own clothing line or something. Hera hates the Outlander one.)

“Nightmares?” he murmurs.

She nods slightly.

He hesitates, but finally asks what she’s anticipating. “The same one again?”

“Isn’t it always?” she retorts, more sad than sharp. There’s a long moment of silence before she speaks again and when she does, her voice wavers. “I can’t remember what he looked like.”

“Hera—”

“I know he had a scar on his cheek and across the bridge of his nose, that he had red hair and green eyes and the cutest karking smile in the galaxy, but I can’t remember it,” Hera says shakily. “I know what he should look like, but I can’t...picture it. And it drives me insane.”

Kanan squeezes her shoulder. “It’s been ten years. I forget, too.”

“I hate it,” she whispers.

The kiss to her temple is sweet and soft and it should bring her some sort of relief, but it doesn’t. It’s not nearly enough and Kanan knows that. There’s nothing he can do to soothe the ache in her chest where Cal used to live, because he can’t even soothe his own gaping wound.

All he can do is hold her close and say: “I know. I know.”

But, thinking of tear-stained, freckled cheeks and a bitter kiss goodbye, she can’t help but wonder if he really does.

River’s Tags: @mystoragehatesme & @hahaboop

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victorsandvanquishers · 3 years

Note

I love your fics! For prompts, maybe 'Bodyguard' with Yuno and Asta? Platonic or romantic, either is fine!!

Hello, Anon! Thank you for requesting this prompt with Yuno and Asta, as I’ve been itching to explore their emotions related to the current events in the manga. Their relationship is platonic in this fic, and there is some slight Asta/Liebe in the background because I enjoy spreading propaganda. It is canon-compliant until the end. Please enjoy this sadfic with gusto! (͡ ͡° ͜ つ ͡͡°)

Asta seeks him out the night before they're due to leave for the invasion. It's a knee-jerk reaction. One minute he's writing a letter to Father Orsi and the family back home while Liebe naps on their bed, and the next moment, he's pulling a blanket over his demon companion before making haste to Yuno's room down the hall. He forgets to knock.

He finds Yuno reading.

There are dark circles underneath his eyes, but they're not from the remnants of late nights and too much stress. These are different. They remind him of Nero's eyes, a mixture of exhaustion and dread, coupled with the usual stress, a sprinkle of agony, and a whole lot of self-loathing.

It's not like he's forgotten about Yuno's pain. He knows it all too well, and yet, he can't help but frown at the the wall between them, the one that's erected itself over the past few days. One one side is Yuno's thirst for vengeance, while the other has Asta striving for vindication. They're only a few months from becoming adults under the eyes of the law, and when that happens, he knows the wall will only stretch taller and wider. Soon they'll be on opposite sides and walking away from each other, because that's what happens when you grow up. It's what happens you grow apart.

But Asta persists.

He doesn't bother asking, just walks over, pulls the sitting man into a hug, and holds on.

Asta will always admit that there isn't much going on in his brain. It's not a self-deprecating thought, merely an observation that also happens to be one of the key factors behind why he does what he does. In the hierarchy of talents, there's mana, then there's scholarly intellect, and finally brute strength. Asta knows that if you have all three, you're as good as king.

Captain Fuegoleon has all three. Yuno has two, and Asta doesn't doubt he'll get his biceps eventually, but Asta only has one.

In a way, there's only ever been three ways to go – to stay home and become a farmer, to leave and become a domestic worker, or the third option, to reject every social norm instilled into his community, and work towards a different, even better future.

Asta chose the third option, and that's why he's holding Yuno now. Because there isn't much in his head, and there's no mana in his core, so his brute strength will have to do. His strength will have to ground Yuno, will have to steady and hold him in place before something bad happens. His strength will have to persist, because this wall can't win. It can't tear them apart like it's torn apart Nacht and his family apart, like it's tore Mr. Finral and his younger brother apart.

Asta won't let it – and he won't let Yuno lose himself in the process.

“You're suffocating me,” Yuno says, voice muffled by Asta's well-built chest.

“Hmph!” He enunciates, and tightens his hold. Yuno gets the hint this time, maneuvers his head so his cheek is flat against Asta's chest, and broods silently as Asta grips him even tighter.

They stay that way for almost five minutes, Yuno brooding against Asta's chest, eyes watching nothing and everything at the same time, while Asta focuses on holding Yuno, focuses on the bright lamp on Yuno's table, the book on magic theory turned to a chapter on manifesting spirits. It's only after Yuno's shoulders slacken and his breathing becomes even that Asta finally starts to loosen his hold. They stay that way for another five minutes, both their breaths even and steady, their spines languid, and their voices silent.

“The Father won't like it if you go in angry,” Asta says after a long while. “You won't be able to think clearly. You'll make mistakes, then get angrier, and make even more mistakes.”

“And since when have you ever listened to the Father?” Yuno whispers, scathingly soft.

Asta doesn't flinch. There's a lot of steel where there should be mana. “Yeah, but you've never disobeyed him.”

“And this isn't just cause?” Yuno challenges.

“It's just for you to wanna rescue your captain... but it's not just for you to go in with hatred in your heart.”

The brute strength Asta knows Yuno has hidden beneath the folds of his uniform finally makes an appearance when Yuno shoves Asta away.

Asta only stumbles back a few steps, but those few steps may as well be a mile. He's in awe, of course, and hurt. He's seen Yuno this angry before, but anger had been mixed with anguish and helplessness that night Asta got the shit kicked out of him by the drunken thief. This time, Yuno's anger bubbles with shame and disgust.

It's written all over his face. The dark circles, the hollow look in his eyes, the disheveled hair and crumpled uniform – it's unlike the Yuno he's grown up with, and yet, it's still him

“Get out,” Yuno tells him, deadly soft.

It's not a request; it's a demand. There's a lot Asta doesn't understand, and he accepts that he'll never understand those things, but this isn't one of them. Asta understands rage. He understands helplessness. He understands what shame can do when unchecked. He's had over a decade to build a backbone and grow thick enough skin to take abuse of any kind with a smile. Because Asta knows – hatred doesn't answer a single question. It fuels nothing but itself. It doesn't resolve conflict, and it doesn't leave a good taste in anyone's mouth.

Asta knows, because he's spent his entire life reminding himself that being angry is the most useless thing this world has to offer.

“I can't send Father Orsi my letter until I know you're OK,” Asta tells him, his face stretching into a big smile. “So I'll send it after we're back – after we've rescued our captains.”

“How can you pretend like it's all gonna be OK when your life is on the line?” Yuno seethes, his voice rising with every word, incredulity etched on his face like a badly drawn picture. “This doesn't end with Spade, Asta. It doesn't end even when we get back! There's still that bloody messenger sitting at our church with our Father and our Sister, and then there's that demon who's sleeping in your bed, and your arm! Have you looked in the fucking mirror, Asta? Do you think this ends just because you say so?”

Yuno's burning with rage, alive with the kind of insidiousness Asta remembers seeing in Mars, in Patolli, in Liebe.

“Yeah,” he tells his friend, his family. “Because I say so.”

Yuno closes his mouth and clenches his teeth, and just then, Belle appears in front of Asta and looks him dead in the eye.

“Leave,” she tells him.

“Just a minute,” Asta says politely, because this is Belle, Yuno's elemental companion, and he'll treat her with the respect she deserves, even if she hates him.

He shifts his head so that he's looking at Yuno again, who's still burning bright with his hatred. His grimoire floats next to him, ready to use, as if Asta's the enemy.

Asta can't but keep smiling, eyes brimming with warmth and love and all the little things that still matter. “I'll be there by your side every step of the way. I won't let you do anything stupid, Yuno; I promise you. I'll bring you home so that I won't even have to send a letter. We can just go straight home after we rescue them. We ca-”

“What you can do is respect that I outrank you, and leave before I make you leave.”

And Yuno means it, because Belle has flown to his side and merged with his body, a sickly shade of green pulsating with raw, unfiltered mana.

“I'll be right beside you,” Asta promises again, before turning around, and exiting the room.

Liebe counts his heartbeats while Asta counts the ceiling beams. It's late, and they should be sleeping, but they're not. Liebe counts his heart beats, while Asta counts the beams, Liebe's head against Asta's chest, Asta's eyes on the dark wood up above, Liebe's arm draped over Asta's torso, while Asta has one hand underneath his head while the other holds Liebe close.

Liebe doesn't say anything, but he listens intently, taps one sharp claw against Asta's shirt with every beat of his heart, while Asta stares up, counts the beams, thinks about Yuno.

“You can't stop him,” Liebe says finally. “He's gonna do what he's gonna do.”

“He's my best friend, and I'll be by his side the entire way. I'm not gonna let him fall.”

Liebe sighs. “It's not about falling; it's about accepting. People change, and sometimes, not in the direction we hope for.”

“But it's not about change,” Asta argues. “It's about our values, what the Father taught us. It's not... worth it. To get caught up in negative feelings – I can't accept it.”

Liebe stiffens but doesn't stop tapping his claw, doesn't stop counting Asta's heartbeats. Instead, he just laughs, dry and hollow. “I'll be there when you do,” he hums, snuggling closer to Asta's chest.

“I won't,” Asta sniffs with a pout before kissing the top of Liebe's head and finally drifting off to sleep.

When they arrive at the Spade monarchs' castle the following morning, it's Asta who turns back on his word, it's Asta who turns the wall into a prison, a prison that cages him and separates him from everyone else, including Yuno. It's Asta who forgets his values, because it's Asta who charges for Dante with his sword brandished, his mouth in a snarl, his hatred pulsating throughout his core as Yami Sukehiro's head rots on a wooden pike at the entrance of the castle.

It's Asta who has to see it to believe it.

Yuno's right, it doesn't end.

And it never will.

#Black Clover #Asta #yuno #asta x liebe #avafanfics

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darkpoisonouslove · 3 years

Text

“New Warmth to Weave in Your Garden of Shine”

Summary: New year is coming hand in hand with the cold of the season and the responsibilities even a celebration brings for a king and queen. Amidst the chaos and strict decorum it's Erendor and Samara's concern to find the time to welcome each other in their shared future.

I had to write one last fic to send off the year and since this one was the only one that cooperated, you get New Year on Eraklyon. I like the way this turned out as I feel like it is a peaceful (while sufficiently dramatic) ending to a very frantic year and also incorporated some of my wishes for a better next year. Here's to hoping!

Samara's body begrudgingly stumbled after him in his misstep slipping into an unnatural disruption of her graceful and calculated movements. Losing balance not his own would have dragged him down and left him splayed out on the floor if not for her dignified posture becoming the spine holding him above the stream of panicked shame spilling out of him under the pokes of the crown everyone's gazes drove in him like a sheaf of spears. A weakness was only fully fledged if you let it take root. Much like a weed, it was something to pluck out on sight.

"Erendor," Samara's voice emptied the ballroom in his mind to leave them twirling to the sound of her words, "tomorrow morning is already buried under unfavorable circumstances to stack too many glasses on top of it as well." She was ready to eradicate the perceived environment spawning the weeds in her garden even if her grip didn't change in gentleness. It was her teeth that always broke his ego like she were a tiny dragon his gear couldn't protect him from when she was already on the inside. She was the only one who'd witnessed him fighting the battles there was no armor for.

"I've only drunk enough to hold my warmth against the chill that wrapped my bones like vines today." Indulgence had long relented to duty but it had been tradition that had stranded him out in the cold for the better half of the day. Even his attire hadn't saved him from the bite of the weather outside the impenetrable walls of the palace that would fail to protect him too now that the damage was done and the endless heat of her proximity.

"Dancing ought to have taken over that function," Samara leaned closer – for his benefit or for the words' unclear but her hot breath hit his neck in a wave so pleasant it flooded his body with shivers inappropriate for the current venue. "Nobody says we have to put an end to the activity outside the ballroom." It was her own benefit she was after but that had no negative bearing on him without space between them.

"I would love to take this to the bedroom," a murmur had the strength to reach her even over the lively music that could have resonated through the whole kingdom if not for the vicious howl of the winds roaming the land outside like it was their own, "but the celebrations will carry well into the night regardless of the impending countdown." It was the last dance before the minutes left for his voice to segue the end of the year into the booming display of fireworks luring into colorful visions of the upcoming days. "Even a new year only brings the same old issues." They could dance to fill the hours stolen from their night but breakfast wouldn't move down the line because of the demand on their time or the sleep tugging at his body so harshly in contrast to her mellow touch.

"We'll have a whole new year to catch up on what we miss tonight and tomorrow," Samara looked at him as if to hold his gaze off the touch of a smirk to her lips that was almost shy in its presence. Almost probing enough to shoot down his spine a shiver from the cold metal covering her fingers like armor.

"Could I hope it would take you less time to relinquish your dominion over the covers?" She always cocooned herself in the heavy blankets like she wanted to hibernate outside the body heat next to her that wouldn't be there the following night. Coupled with her knack for transforming him into a careful heart within a paralyzed body when she'd wake up from a shift in his breathing, it left him sleeping with a whimsical force like the nature stone and glass strove to keep outside. "Say, once dancing isn't an option for preserving body temperature anymore?" The only difference was that Samara was much more terrifying in the dead silence she could turn her presence into unlike the wailing of the winds banging against the shut-off palace. Yet, she was the one he welcomed willingly by his side to shield him from the void of cold she filled effortlessly.

The smile widened on her lips to welcome her voice into the cool air of publicness around them and him inside the sound soaking his mind to the core. "Just keep your hands on me at all times and you should be fine." She adjusted her hand in his to ground him in the lightness of her softened grip now that she didn't need the gold on her head or fingers to hold her in his arms.

"I wouldn't argue with that but I have to make a toast in the near future. One I hope you will honor with me?" he didn't drop her gaze even for a moment as he dipped her in an end to their dance. The last few minutes of the old year were slipping between their fingers, the last few touches, the last few words they'd get to exchange before responsibility possessed their lives. It could be nothing but bad luck to shatter that by misdirecting his attention to the slap in the face she could deliver with his hands full of her instead of his own protection.

"I will," Samara's answer glided over the puff rushing out of her to reach him as he brought her back up into the proximity of their faces. "You already indulged me."

His gaze slid to the necklace outlining her delicate throat in the lack of her usual high collar and the silky gown that hugged the curve of her breasts tightly only to leave a generous amount of cleavage for the jewelry to contrast with, and, of course, the crown radiating light upon her head to make her the center of attention despite the companion piece he was wearing. It was the gift she'd given him that played in his mind, however.

Gravity pulled on the jewelry box in his pocket with every step as if to weigh him down and slow him on top of the time he'd already lost on changing out of his parade uniform and into his royal attire and stopping by the safe to get her gift. The echo of his hurried step drilled into his mind with the undeniable anxiety he couldn't pin on one easy to dismiss thing. His only chance was to hide behind the shine of the brilliance in his pocket until he could anchor himself in Samara's presence in the queen's chamber and avoid getting carried away by the memories rocking his being.

The history of the monarchy and his own family had been stained with a kidnapping that had cost the kingdom much more than his carefulness with Samara ever could. His mother had been abducted from the palace during his own birthday to leave an imprint on every future celebration. He had never forgiven his father for the helplessness he'd associated their family with in the eyes of the public and his own heart. It had been so easy to take the queen–a living woman and mother of children–let alone the crown meant to lay on his head and poking their affection away.

Every step was like the prickle of the needles he hadn't witnessed starting an embroidery that afternoon that he'd have to recapture in the next mosaic from the Path of Eraklyon. He'd doubled the guard like any other time they were all swallowed in the distractions of an official event but tradition still hadn't been in his favor. Samara had been left with her ladies-in-waiting while he'd been out on the obligatory gemstone hunt.

His dragon only hadn't thrown him off its back due to the long years of training it had undergone while it had been Samara's face in front of his eyes instead of the dragon's reactions to lead him to the largest diamond he could find without infringing on Isis' territorial claim to bring back to her.

She'd endured the ceremony of "capturing" the wild dragons that would be tamed into joining the palace's resources–they had been captured already a couple weeks ago and put through basic training to ensure safety during the official event–even though it prickled her the same way worry did him. Her knuckles had turned white from gripping the railing of the royal balcony so hard it had been visible from the arena below but to anyone without inside information it would have looked like concern for him and the soldiers attending to the dragons. His confidence in his skills and the performative nature of the ceremony left the truth shining from underneath the mask of rouge concealing the burn in her blood.

Taming was a word her dictionary was extremely unreceptive of and the sweet scent of the flowers blooming all over the reins the dragons attempted to melt off could have had bile rising in her throat if it could have reached as high up as the smoke did while the animals thrashed in dramatic attempts to breathe fire through the vegetation suffocating them with every new flare of heat. It was an ancient tradition and one she found quite distasteful as she watched the blossoms that were already doomed to withering away–they'd been plucked and fashioned into elaborate harnesses of winter turned spring by the smallest of sparks–being forced into their most beautiful. The hunt for jewels would have been more her speed but her schedule had been occupied with embroidery of the event he'd picked to mark the year they'd just left in Eraklyon's history. He'd had to leave her to it, alone in the palace with nothing but his planned defense against unexpected events to keep her safe while he was in pursuit of fulfilling a tradition as valuable as the gemstones he found would be without her waiting to receive them.

The wood of her door was hard and cold under his knuckles. It was like knocking on a block of ice, except it wasn't transparent and it left his pulse hammering in his ears to shatter the heavy, tense silence ready to bury him right there outside her bedchamber.

"Enter," Samara's voice was like warm water that unstuck him from the floor and had the frost crunching under his fingers as he pushed the handle and cracked the door open.

The sight streaming through the passage in her chamber he'd opened stopped him dead in his tracks in the doorway as if to plate him like a painting in a golden frame despite the fact that he'd returned to the palace with a ruby bigger than his fist. The bed was strewn with her jewelry, displayed for her to choose from. He'd expected a different chaos in the face of her maids catering to her high standards for her personal appearance and the glimmer of reflected sunset rays coming from her orchard of precious gemstones almost blinded him.

"Harvest time is over." He didn't bother elaborating what she was perfectly capable of deciphering when a diamond wouldn't be able to cut through her mind. Instead, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other and closing the door behind his back to settle in the self-created illusion that he was welcome in this shimmering kingdom obeying her will rather than nature's.

"I'm choosing the plant for next year," Samara confirmed his standing, not employing her energy into a warning glare that he was on thin ice. He was on solid ground and could breathe freely without fear of white crystals bursting his veins to pieces from the inside.

She reached into the sea of sharp splendor in front of her to pluck out a ring and slip it on her finger. The one with the two sapphires–a shade darker and more lasting than the evergreens poking the horizon outside to make space for them–he'd given her on their first anniversary was already on her hand. It was an exception for her not to wear it but it was always good to see it where it belonged. Even if the solid gold drew his attention to the prick in her delicate flesh above the ring's imperviousness.

The wound was so small that it would have disappeared in the expanse of skin around like a missing feather on a peacock but instead, it stood out like a gunshot in the intense red of blood on white marble. She must have pricked herself on a needle while creating the basis of an embroidery, depicting a success history would remember as his even if she had more claim over it than he did. It was her duty to draft on fabric the image he would later have immortalized in stone regardless of how skilled she was at it.

Her mother hadn't bothered to teach her what every girl in the kingdom could do in too common a craft to be considered a talent worthy of a beauty queen. Yet, the queen of Eraklyon was bound to it in tradition and she'd had to learn in the few months before her coronation. He'd watched her unravel as she'd failed to master it as if to use her own threads and make it easier for herself by manipulating her own matter to sew into the fabric. She'd bleed out if all the times she'd prickled herself and had yet to do it again were put together.

"I would've thought that is something you would have taken care of already?" Combining patterns was a second nature unlike creating them and jewelry was a passion she carried around with herself at all times. It was unthinkable that something as simple as a few drops of blood drawn from her could make it slip through her fingers.

"Normally, I would have but this is a little tradition of mine I keep to on the last day of the year," Samara pried his jaws open with strength that had slipped his notice to keep him from eating his own mind and put hers between them instead. It could be another diversion born out of the blood she'd smelled as well.

"What kind of tradition?" He hadn't had the chance to learn the previous years when the privacy of his bedchamber had provided her frame and her honesty but not the environment in which she thrived, hidden in the shade from his gaze.

"I lay out all my jewelry and pick to wear the most valuable pieces the year has provided." He'd seen her put a lot of work in admiring her ever growing collection so that wasn't hard to believe. It didn't much help to comprehend it, though.

"How can you tell which are the most valuable ones?" He'd grown up with both crowns in sight if not straining his sensibilities with their weight and he still couldn't tell their worth upon just looking. The dragons wouldn't be able to pick out the more precious stone between two just by sight. Maybe there truly was something more than just natural beauty to her.

"That was easy back in the day," Samara slipped away from him, diving after the sun that had set the sky on fire. If her life had been a day, he would have never seen a sunset caught in her irises, much less a sunrise. He would have met her in the dark hours preceding midnight to witness her beauty only in unnatural light or under the weak glow of the stars on a dusty sky at most. That was if the clouds hadn't swallowed her whole like she was made of fractured light unable to pierce its way out of their intangible mass. "I just had to remember how unbearable an experience had followed receiving each one of them."

"I don't follow." Not just because he'd drifted off into the void she'd outlined as her past. She'd practically tied her words to the strings of his mind as if she'd been born to do that. Maybe he could rewrite tradition to replace embroidery with tapestry to spare her from ever prickling herself again on anything that wasn't his crown. And that he could always take off himself to remove the last thorn in her way.

"The harder a role you need to play, the more intricate the mask you need to wear. And the more intricate the mask is, the more it demands – both in its making and its usage," Samara's voice was deceptively light as she glided on the surface of whatever depths she avoided broaching in her mind to keep them both dry in the freezing cold of the settling night. "The brightest jewelry I always got at the threat of the mask cracking right when it needed to be as impenetrable as possible." What had her mother put her up against on all of those stages she'd pushed her?

"Why would you need more reminders of that?" It had already gripped his mind, too, from where it had taken root in hers as she'd talked without being there with him. She'd spoken from the distance where she kept her gaze as well to not paint pictures of the past over the present regardless of them still haunting every image her eyes captured.

"I didn't. It was a statement of worth to others not to forget just because the reminders I already had were embedded where no one could see." Considering all the wealth they'd redistributed once she'd stripped her family of it, she'd failed. Her mother hadn't made it worth her troubles with everything she'd still had hoarded. But she didn't need the cold bucket of water on her nerves any more than he did. "It was also an invitation for the next year to bring something better," her hand balled into a fist as she grasped at the chance to run her thumb over the two sapphire beads adorning her finger before her palms slid over the skirt of her gown littered with dark blue gems that could have been cut from the lit sky above the palace as if they couldn't shred her fragile skin. Just scrub off the remains of her maiden name from her being. "But that is no more. Now I have no idea which ones are the most valuable. There are no masks attached to the gems, just pure sentiment." Her voice picked up to keep up with the speed of her gaze running over the precious display on her bed. "It disrupts my process almost to the point of resentment."

He'd need something to steady himself as well if she kept the words crashing into him like waves of rich honey. Only, he wasn't certain he'd make it all the steps to where she'd just clutched at the bedpost before bending over for a closer inspection. He'd fall over and at the foot of the bed if she pulled him a little closer with another almost in a covert confession.

"What do you think?" Her eyes on him snapped his attention back to the material world he'd bought for her but all he could see was the invitation in her insistent gaze to be a part of her future. "Which ones should I wear?" It wasn't something he could normally help with but this time he had an answer. As long as she'd take it.

"Can I ask you to break tradition?" He pulled out the red velvet box under the anticipation in her stance to have her leaving the bed where all her old jewelry rested to come within reach now that he was giving away the weight that had kept him in place.

A whole garden of diamonds was in his hands to hang on her neck and live for as long as she wanted it to, as long as she welcomed it on her skin. The jewels were whiter than the clouds of breath forming in the harsh temperatures outside and small like the grains the kingdom fed on and she didn't eat but still shined like mirrors bathed in the light of her smile.

Samara turned around, urging him silently to clasp it around her neck in a hold even the crown didn't have on her as it could slip off at any moment. Her hand was running over it before he'd even fastened it in place, the motion sending him off balance as it shook him with relief amidst the quietness of her admiration. He had to rest his palms on her shoulders to find his way through the rhythm the day was spinning to.

Samara covered his hand with hers to pull it off and allow herself to face him instead of the mirror. "I wouldn't mind breaking an old tradition for the new year but since you fit right in, there's no need for such drastic measures. It could use some reshaping, though."

He was still stuck on processing the meaning of her words when she leaned in and pressed her lips against his. Just a quick peck that ran through his body like fire as fast as she was out of his reach and settling in front of her vanity. It was just the softness of her naked lips against his and the still palpable warmth of her fingers where she'd held his hand that lingered behind like a gem for him to stash in the depths of his mind where no weight–physical or not–would be able to leave it in angry shards blazing with fire.

"Didn't you switch to a new lipstick just a couple of weeks ago?" he asked once she was already applying the burgundy over her lips, his brain taking longer to react while collecting the memories she was weaving the last day of the year into.

Samara paused to return the effort he'd put in paying her the due attention even though it had only been natural to note the different shade of the marks her kisses left behind. "Yes, I did. But I always open a new make-up kit on New Year's Eve." And she'd already applied all the rest of her beauty products before he'd arrived. Almost as if she'd been waiting for his visit or at least hoping for it. Either that, or she'd just wanted to keep the lipstick as fresh as possible before heading to the ballroom for the long night ahead. Yet, there was no trace of the silence she used to distance herself in contrast to the quiet life of a kiss between them.

"Another tradition?" That was clear but he needed an excuse for her lips to breathe more color into their conversation.

"Don't you have some?" she shot back at him but her intonation wasn't sharp enough to point to exasperation, even if she was too quick for his scattered attention that was in more pieces than there were on her bed.

Did he?

"I pick gifts for my wife."

Another pause as Samara's lips parted to a frozen moment–she must have caught herself from licking off the lipstick–before she spoke. "That is not a New Year's Eve tradition if you do it throughout the rest of the year as well."

"Then I suppose I'm boring." He was lucky to have come up with an answer at all while transfixed with the shimmer of her eyes not warped even in reflection. It'd be a crime not to give her jewels to put next to it for them to pale in comparison with the real beauty she'd grown in the dark.

"Consistent, I would say." Her gaze slid over the room in the mirror and he followed it, unable to turn to the real one if it meant letting her out of his sight. It was still clear as day where her mind treaded even in the shadows creeping around the room with each second they remained too preoccupied with each other to get the lights.

All the leftover illumination from the day and the shine of the space bodies just coming into view was captured by the jewelry he'd given her to turn each piece into a lighthouse of its own in the waves of silk on her bed. He'd gifted her quite a high number in the couple of years they'd been married but they still weren't enough to replace electricity or even the glow of fire.

It was him that was doing the impossible – counting jewelry instead of coins when the monarchy was as stable as Samara's taste for precious gemstones and noble metals. Nothing was shaking under his feet or threatening to crumble on his head in the quietness of her bedchamber. Not even the weight of the earrings dangling from his palm could throw him off balance as he brought the long stemmed calla lilies to her attention and she let him add their tender white and gold to her look.

The music ended just as Erendor found his footing in the dance with exhaustion. He didn't let go of Samara's waist for another couple of seconds until he could steady himself outside the rhythm of her body swaying with his. There were just minutes still from the year they were leaving behind their backs and he had to let go of her on the precipice and risk separation in the name of an obligatory speech and toast. It was so trivial it would have brought out tears if he allowed it but she was queen because he was king and his only choice was to obey the law that had brought them together.

He held her hand until the armrest of his throne was within reach to numb the emptiness of letting go. His reluctant fingers almost retreated from the coolness of the glass with champagne when he would much prefer her company over that of the alcohol sloshing around in its confinement without grace. Especially when the smooth coldness of the glass reminded him of his chase of hard gems outside in the freezing weather and made him feel like the first idiot but the diamonds shining on her neck and the metal warmed up by her skin that had been pressed in his fingers not long ago burned the thought away. They brought the speech to his lips when it had been her touch weaving it in his mind all year in a way that he'd never been able to before. In a way she'd never been able to before with the heavy jewelry dragging her heart and hands into the depths to drown her grace in the spillage of her own blood.

There was nothing but her own decision holding her tongue now to free her from the image of the dragons harnessed for someone else's purposes. And he could tell the story of their monarchy now that they'd pried it free from everyone else's control. It was theirs so there was nothing stopping him from leaning towards her during the cheer of the guests and the thumping of his own heart in unheard applause for her kept promise to meet the new year together with him.

"What a shame to see such waste of lipstick on your glass." She'd barely sipped enough to leave the shape of her lips on the glass and his mind rendering him incapable of noticing anything else.

"I have plenty of lipstick left to spare, remember?" Her tradition made a lot more sense now. "And there is not a force in this kingdom greater than us that could take away our first kiss of the year." He could count on her promise regardless of how long it would take them to keep it.

"Happy New Year," he took her hand again to feel a warmth even the dragons didn't have to offer.

"Happy New Year." She smiled again to blind him to anything the world could serve them next – even the sun crashing on their heads.

The fireworks exploded outside the windows to change the pattern of the light streaming through but even in the lack of consistency, his brain recognized one heat signature like it was the center of the universe.

#winx club #winx erendor #winx samara #erendor x samara #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing

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