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ashasmonsters · 3 years

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The Middle Prince

Male reader x Male Tiefling (Amon)

Citrus rating: Lemon

Content: Detailed wet dreams, alcohol

Words: 8k

Note: Some MLM goodness for Pride Month! This took me longer than I intended, but only because I wrote it way too long and had to break it up into parts! Expect more in this series.

The dreams started assailing you a little over a month ago. During the first week, you couldn't remember anything. You would awake in your bedchamber covered in sweat and panting as if you had just finished a sparring session. These nights, a name danced on the tip of your tongue, escaping just as you attempted to sound it out and make it real. Confused and alone you would promptly go back to sleep after flipping over your pillow. As time passed, the dreams grew both in intensity and clarity. Though still more mysterious than normal dreams, little details here and there coalesced in your waking memory: a soft touch followed by a rough one, the smell of lavender, your fingernails gliding over shallow ridges, the color of aquamarine gemstones. These dreams visited you every night without fail.

The determinations made by the court oneiromancers were limited in scope. After spending the night in the care of one such dream diviner, they found these dreams to be coming from somewhere else. The dreams were not your own, at least not fully. Beyond this, they had no more revelations. Anything more was conjecture; one stated that if magick was involved, it was either massively strong, thus able to conceal its origin, or so fleeting and ephemeral that even the oneiromancers couldn't trace it.

Your father's concern waxed but mostly waned. Perhaps if you were the eldest crown prince instead of the middle one, the answer would have been willed into existence by his command. He simply asked that the oneiromancers track your condition and report any findings to him, but no more than once each week. Though dismayed that little was being done to solve this mystery, you were used to being far from priority. Even years ago when an attempt on your life left one of your legs still and unresponsive, a leg brace allowing you to stand at public appearances was issued and the problem was declared solved. You vividly remembered the look on the assassin's face when he realized he had accidentally struck third in the line of succession rather than first. His reaction was not dissimilar from your father's when you mentioned your dreams: a mildly amused but primarily disappointed visage. The spot where the dagger had pierced your spine no longer ached but your discontent was as raw and fresh as the day the realization struck.

With the oneiromancers essentially told to only report something unquestionably threatening to your life or the family's honor, you shared very little with them. Several times you had dismissed them with little more than a hand wave. None of them ever protested. To their knowledge, no new developments within these dreams came to light. It was just another little curiosity that came with the court.

To their knowledge, anyway. In truth, there had been a quite substantial development that you withheld from them.

The night air was cool and crisp. From your bedchamber's veranda, you let the gentle sound of the garden's fountains below soothe your nerves. This had become your regular nighttime ritual; your last chance to feel relaxed and cool before waking up overheated and frantic. You enjoyed the last of it before sliding under the sheets and waiting for the dream to visit you.

This was the clearest dream to date. The scattered sensations and feelings from prior episodes came into focus: the touches came from smooth, tender hands, the smell of lavender from purple cups of herbal tea. Your fingers played over short, filed horns. That bold aquamarine color like a burning emerald belonged to a pair of eyes, their pupils narrow and catlike. The overall plot of the dream remained unknown to you. What came next, however, was new. Very new.

A pair of hands caressed your body as whatever clothing you had dissolved into the air. Your mind reeled from the realization of what was happening, yet you were relaxed all the same. Though surprised, you didn't wish for it to stop. Even as the tender hands had you at their mercy, one playfully pinching a nipple as the other reached lower in between your legs, you welcomed their touch without knowing why. You just did. It felt right. The hand between your legs started confidently stroking your shaft; making you moan. Their touch was expertly coordinated as if they knew everything about you. Not long after, the building pressure within you was too much to bear, then...

"AMON!" You cried out, the name that had eluded you all those nights finally woven from syllables into a complete utterance. You were no longer dreaming, your own hands reflexively covering your mouth in a futile attempt to take back the exclamation. In the dead of night like this, you most certainly alerted someone.

"My Prince, are you alright?" Your chief courtier, Petra, had burst through your bedchamber door. Guards with polearms at the ready had her back.

"I'm alright," you caught your breath, "it's the dream again. No cause for alarm." As usual, you bore a sheen of sweat and your heart was thundering in your ears.

"You've never called out like that before," Petra noted, not yet dropping her guard.

"I called out?" You lied, wincing as you felt something viscid and slimy on your groin under your dressing gown. Deep embarrassment came to the forefront of your mind, your face helpless to hide it. "Bring me my washbasin, please," you quickly uttered.

"At once, my Prince." Petra left the room as the guards resumed their posts. You peeled back your dressing gown to inspect the damage by moonlight. It was worse than you thought. Undoubtedly this gown would have to be thrown out. You groaned, disappointed in your own body for betraying you like this.

"Your washbasin, Prince." Petra returned and you hurriedly covered yourself up again. The moonlight was too dim, or perhaps she pretended not to see, but she was soon at your bedside without pause, brandishing a sponge and towel.

"I can do this myself," you said, taking the implements from her. She looked at you with intent to interrogate.

"Prince, if there have been changes with your dreams, you must inform the oneiromancers."

"No need," you said, eager to fully clean yourself. "You are dismissed, Petra."

Petra held her tongue. Her eyes told you she only did so because she was eager to return to bed. When she departed your bedchamber and closed the door, you finally discarded the soiled gown and did your best to cleanse yourself of your nocturnal emission. You donned a new gown and welcomed an ordinary slumber.

When morning came, so did Petra and a bevy of assistant courtiers. From the accoutrements they wielded you identified them as the "fashion corps," your nickname for the hairdressers, wardrobers, clothiers, and makeup artists whose arrival portended a formal event you were required to attend. As the squad of aesthetes communicated amongst each other, Petra drew you a bath. While the tub filled, she came to your side and took your shoulder on hers to help you hobble into the bathing chamber.

"What's the occasion, Petra?" You unfolded a privacy screen, dividing your bathing chamber in half. As you stripped and entered the balmy water, you heard Petra pull up a chair on the other side of the screen.

"The biannual alliance gala, Prince."

"The alliance gala?" You asked. Your appearance had not been required at one for quite some time. "Why me?"

"Your father has requested that the entire court attend. From what I've heard, there is quite the number of fiefdoms and baronies joining the kingdom at this one."

"Grand." You sighed and resigned yourself into the water until it met your chin. You imagined the great hall of the palace, teeming with strangers from far-off lands all speaking in such meaningless platitudes that they needed alcohol in hand to tolerate it.

"If it makes you feel any better, Prince, most of the night depends on your elder brother and your father. You have the freedom to do whatever you like once your father's opening speech is concluded," Petra said with a mild tone.

It didn't make you feel better. Your father built a kingdom that, apparently, smaller domains were scrambling to join. Your elder brother was the crown prince with hordes of suitors seeking his heart. Even your elder sister, with no direct claim to the crown, was quite sought after. Then there was you, with permission to get as drunk as you like at the gala. You seriously considered exercising that privilege.

Your ruminations were interrupted by the clatter of hammered metal and leather straps from beyond the screen.

"I've got your brace ready, Prince. Let me know when you're dry," Petra said. You reluctantly finished scrubbing and soaping yourself before heaving your body onto the lip of the bath and toweling off. Sat there, damp with dripping hair and a towel round your waist, you permitted Petra to attach the brace to you. She respectfully averted her eyes as she affixed the contraption to your immobilized leg. With it attached, you traded comfort for the ability to limp and stand unassisted.

Next came the gauntlet of clothing, hair styling, and makeup that the fashion corps employed. Even for today, which was merely a rehearsal for the true event tomorrow, they gave no mercy. They encircled you and passed you around as they worked like a knight being suited by his squires. The process was grueling. Your hair was tugged and the breeches squeezed your brace into your leg. With the freedom to choose your own clothes removed from you, there was no choice but to deal with the feeling of metal biting at your skin.

Bound in the tight, ceremonial clothing, Petra took your arm for the long walk to the great hall. It was full of palace staff and buzzing like a beehive. The ceiling, high as a cathedral's, let in beams of sunlight through its many massive windows. Tables were being arranged with the intent to give each attending guest a view of the stage: the stage where your father and elder brother would be giving their opening speeches tomorrow. The two of them were behind a podium, your brother reading a piece of parchment over your father's shoulder. Behind them towards the back of the stage was a row of ornate seats; not quite thrones but just as uncomfortable. Your elder sister met your gaze as she sat on one. She beckoned you over.

"That will be your seat for the rehearsal, Prince," Petra said.

"Rehearsal for sitting?" You quipped, walking towards your seat anyway. Resistance was futile no matter how silly this all was.

"I'll undo your hair and get you into more comfortable clothes as soon as I can, Prince," Petra said apologetically. "Bear with it. I must attend to the other staff now."

With that, Petra disappeared into the crowd of scrambling staff arranging the great hall into order. You limped to your seat, your brace clicking all the while.

"You look excellent, little brother," your sister said. She was attempting to alleviate your sour mood, but she still hadn't figured out how. Neither had you.

"I look like an idiot. And my leg is killing me," you snapped.

Your sister merely sighed and leaned back in her chair. Her hair, in a high bun, bumped the bejeweled headrest and made her curse.

"You used to love these events when you were smaller. You had perfected waving to the crowd before you learned to talk," she said.

"That was a long time ago. Things were different; I was naive, none of us had official duties, the assassination attempt hadn't happened, I wasn't bedeviled by these dreams... mother was alive." You cast your gaze downward, examining your buckled leather shoes. You heard her sigh.

"Not all change has to be bad. And to be fair, you still don't have any official duties to worry about." She placed a hand on your shoulder.

"That's a polite way of saying I'm useless." You looked up at your father and elder brother. They were discussing something about their speeches, annotating and marking the parchment before them. A small audience of pages stood in front of the stage, listening to them run through portions of their speeches. They hadn't yet paid you any heed.

"It's a blunt way of saying you're free," your sister said firmly. "Every week I'm fielding suitors from all over the world, and not one of them has proven to be anything but repulsive. I'm terrified that one day strategy and diplomacy will land me with someone like them."

Your eyes widened at her open disdain for the matters of the court.

"I'm sorry," you said, reconstructing your vision of who your sister truly was. "I had no idea you felt that way... I thought—"

"You thought I was traipsing about with handsome men from far-off lands every day?" She smirked.

"...yes." You blushed.

"Hah! I wish!" Your sister flinched at her own exclamation, then relaxed when she realized the monarch and the crown prince hadn't noticed. "But you don't have to wish for that. You're free to traipse with whomever you please."

You blushed harder. Turning away from your sister, you saw your brother and father finishing up their speech revisions. On cue, Petra emerged from the throng of staff to conclude this "rehearsal."

"Looks like Petra's coming to get you," your sister noted. "I know you'll be free to retire to your bedchambers as soon as the speeches are over, but I want you to try and enjoy yourself tomorrow night. It's what I would do if I could." She gave you one final smile before getting up from her seat.

"I will," you said, finally cracking a tiny smile in return. Petra had your arm soon after.

"Your presence is no longer required, Prince." Petra helped you up. "Shall I take you back to your chambers?"

"Yes, please," you said, giving your sister a thankful glance. She returned a similar expression as Petra whisked you away.

When you had finally returned to your chambers and changed into less constrictive clothing, you asked Petra to stay awhile to converse. Your sister's advice had forced you to re-evaluate your approach to the gala. Your priorities had shifted just as much as your notions of her personality had.

"You mentioned there were many newcomers to the kingdom? Quite a few tables were being set up in the great hall," you quizzed Petra.

"Yes, from what I've gathered, it's expected to be the largest event we've hosted all year. We're expecting guests from as far as Ankara and Nubia," she answered matter-of-factly. Perhaps she was a little proud, too.

"Are there any specific guests I should know about?" You asked with the grace of a war elephant. Courtship had crossed your mind for the first time mere minutes ago. "Anyone of high repute?"

Petra picked up on your clumsy intent immediately. She knew you too well.

"Prince, it would be quicker to list the attendees not worth approaching than those with stellar accolades. If it were me..." she drew in air through her teeth as if expecting to be reprimanded, "I would consider tomorrow's gala an excellent time to court someone."

"I'll try to take that advice to heart, Petra," you said.

"I'm pleased, Prince. Your matters are your own, but if I may speak unequivocally..."

"Speak your mind." You gave her permission. She hesitated, then sighed.

"You strike me as lonely, Prince. Ever since the Queen passed, your social life has suffered." Petra paused again, considering her words carefully. "You deserve love of that measure once more, whether from a partner or a good friend."

"Thank you," you sighed as if she had given you permission to use your heart. "I appreciate the advice, Petra."

"Of course, Prince." She glanced out the window towards the setting sun. "I recommend you retire early tonight to be invigorated tomorrow, lest the dreams strike again."

You nodded.

"They will." You avoided her eyes as you remembered what happened last time. "Have a washbasin ready. For the, erm, sweat."

"Of course, Prince," Petra said, her face remaining unmoved. You didn't bother trying to discern whether she was oblivious to last night's gown-soiling or if she merely extended you the courtesy of pretending. "I'll leave you be. Get some rest."

You watched her exit your chambers without another word, finally exhaling the breath you held. The idea of having to clean yourself up again was hardly appealing. Standing on the veranda and enjoying the cool night air was only prolonging the inevitable.

The aforementioned inevitable reared its troublesome head as soon as you surrendered to sleep. Your consciousness materialized somewhere, a location unidentifiable but still more detailed than you had ever encountered before. You glimpsed kaleidoscopic carpets, hammered brass, and vines growing freely about the place.

"Welcome back." A man's voice like sweet honey floated through the warm air.

"I missed you." The words left your mouth without you knowing them. You were merely an observer to your own actions. "Amon."

"My sweet prince." Lips on your knuckles. The smell of lavender tea. "Tea?"

"No thanks. We must keep this quick," you uttered again, breathless and surrendering to a desire that was both yours and unknown to you.

"Tut, tut. What's gotten into you, my prince? I've never seen you so impatient," the voice teased. Your head spun.

"I need my energy," you gasped, something warm and wet lapping at your member. "For tomorrow." The ministrations paused.

"Of course. Tomorrow will be very special indeed." The tongue on your shaft resumed, making you squirm. You reached out into the nothingness, your fingers grasping at frayed carpet tassels. Your other hand reached in between your legs and found a head of hair. You grasped a smooth horn that curved neatly behind an ear. It bobbed up and down at a tantalizing pace.

"Amon, I... I shouldn't..."

"Shouldn't what?" Another pause in the pleasure. You caught your breath. Those eyes again, burning into yours with the hue of warm ocean waters. "Say no to me, my prince. I implore you to try."

Caught in the stare you were helpless. You quivered with need, your manhood twitching and drooling. Only a high whine left your lips.

"Thought so."

You shot up in bed, crying out and spasming. Once more you had spilled yourself into your gown, your entire body slick with sweat. As a small victory, your cries remained nondescript rather than referential to this "Amon." In the dream, you had felt a sweet warmth in your breast each time you spoke to him and even warmer when he responded. In your waking memory, this name was empty. There was no connection and no feeling of belonging. If you hadn't heard your own voice leave your mouth in the dream, you would have had no way of knowing those experiences were your own. Your dreaming memory and conscious recollection were severed, at odds with one another. What did he mean when he said tomorrow would be special? Did he know about the gala? You didn't know how much you knew.

"The washbasin, Prince," Petra uttered as she carried it into your chambers. She stowed it at your bedside. "Shall I leave you like before?"

"Yes, please... but would it trouble you to return afterward?"

"Not at all, Prince. I'll return at your word." She slipped out of the room. You took the opportunity to cleanse yourself of the evidence before permitting Petra to return.

“Petra, would it be possible to acquire a guest list for the gala?” You asked.

“Possible, yes. However, it will be quite long without any qualifiers. As I mentioned previously, this is one of the largest events of the year.”

You considered simply asking her if the name Amon was among the attendees, but Petra would likely alert the oneiromancers and in turn, your father. You doubted anything would happen at all if she did, but this was a matter you wanted to confront on your own. Like all other decisions made for you at your father’s behest, your own interests would unquestionably be cast aside if he decided to involve himself.

“I’d like to know the first names of all the male guests scheduled to attend,” you said. Petra raised an eyebrow.

“That doesn’t narrow it down much, Prince,” Petra answered. The sweet, honeyed voice from your dream remained in your mind. It was the voice of a young man, one likely of your age.

“Only the male guests around my age, then,” you specified. Petra raised her other eyebrow, making her expression one of surprise rather than skepticism.

“Ah. That kind of list. I see...” Your cheeks burned; though you didn’t know where this inquiry would take you, you also felt the conclusion Petra came to was not wholly inaccurate. “Shall I make, erm, other arrangements as well?”

“Arrangements?” you asked. It was Petra’s turn to blush.

“The standard things... extra pillows, oils, skins—”

“Yes, of course, Petra,” you cut her off, not wishing for her to extend the list of amenities any further. Searching for a suitor was a favorable charade. If nothing else, if this search for the mysterious Amon proved fruitless, then you would at least have the means, motive, and opportunity to bed somebody... if you had the audacity. The look on Petra's face said she didn't think so.

"I’ll have the list and the... goods brought in before sun-up,” Petra said. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, Petra, that will suffice.”

“Good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Morning arrived and so did Petra's promises; the chief courtier herself was nowhere to be found, but a neatly transcribed list of names and a box tied with a bow sat atop a chaise lounge when you awoke. You already knew what waited inside the box, so you went for the list. Though only containing the names of guests that fit your qualifiers, the parchment was both long and double-sided. Your eyes began to tire just as they fell across what you were looking for:

Amon II - Eparch of Nobatian Lower Makuria and Alodia

You were puzzled. Makuria and Elodia were names you hadn't heard since you were tutored. Even your father's kingdom with its diplomats venturing far and wide rarely mentioned them. You only knew they were small kingdoms far away from this one. There was not one but two oceans between here and there, they spoke a language no tutor in the palace taught, and both titles of "Nobatian" and "Eparch" were unknown to you.

Then the fashion corps arrived. You dropped the parchment and pondered the new information as they manhandled you into the appearance they had crafted for you yesterday. Perhaps due to more practiced hands or being lost in your thoughts, the process seemed to go much faster than previously. You almost didn't believe it when they told you they were finished, but the shifted sun and your appearance in the mirror confirmed that the gala would soon begin. Your hair was fashioned into an unnatural shape, your face was dusted with powder, and your clothes were so form-fitting that you appeared sewn into them. The bulge of the leg brace through your breeches peeked out at the ankle; the leggings were so tight that your overcoat preserved more of your modesty than they did.

With Petra absent and likely scrambling to put last-minute touches on the gala, you walked to the great hall with the assistance of the fashion corps, who likewise made hasty repairs to your appearance as your gait jostled things out of place. When you arrived, the great hall was even busier than at the rehearsal. It seemed there was a member of palace staff for each seat at every table, all of them fastidiously arranging cutlery, plates, decorative vases, placemats, and myriad other things you didn't know the names for.

“Little brother!” You turned your head and spotted your elder sister within a parade of her own fashion corps regiment. She waved at you from one of the great hall’s entrances.

“Sister,” you responded with a nod, your own cavalcade parting to allow her approach.

“Have you given tonight any consideration?” She asked.

“Yes, actually...”

“You’re not going to retreat to your chambers?”

“...not immediately,” you said, noncommittal.

“I’m glad.” She smiled gently. “I’ll likely be busy most of the night, though if you’d like me to send anyone your way, let me know. Who’s on your list?”

“My list?” you sputtered. “Petra told you?”

“Petra? Goodness, no,” she chuckled. “I just figured you’d have one. It’s standard practice for these sorts of things; I’ve a list as well. So... who’s on yours?”

You lowered your head and examined your shoes.

“Well... it’s quite long.”

“How scandalous!” she gasped exaggeratedly.

“I’m just casting a wide net is all! I don’t intend to bed every single male my age!” Your cheeks burned again. You considered dropping the charade if it meant this level of humiliation.

“I expected my mild little brother to have a rebellious phase eventually, but this...” she said, ignoring your cries.

"Sister, please," you pleaded. The tone of your voice convinced her to return to normal. She extended a hand to ruffle your hair but stopped herself when your fashion corps hairstylist glared at her.

"Apologies, little brother. I had to jest a little," she smiled at you, this time without intent to tease. "They're going to start letting in the guests soon. We should take our seats."

You nodded and followed her to the stage. The fashion corps fell away from you and went to help elsewhere. You sat in your uncomfortable pseudo-throne and waited, eventually joined by your other siblings save for your eldest brother. They greeted you as they took position at your side, but there was very little to talk about. This was the first time you had seen them in a while.

Then came the guests: the table-setters had cleared out some minutes before the floodgates burst and more staff escorted groups of people to their tables. The cathedral-like great hall was full in mere moments. Sorted by table, there was a sea of people in colorful finery all conversing amongst themselves and giving you and your siblings the occasional glance. You tried to pick out Amon from the crowd but quickly realized half-remembered fragments from your dreams wouldn't be enough to pick him from a sea of hundreds. Even finding his name on the list took a considerable amount of time.

Then the hall fell silent, or something close to it. A lively conversation between hundreds of people dropped to hushed whispers. Your father and brother had entered the hall and begun their walk to the podium, silencing the crowd with nothing but their appearance. When your father reached the podium, he extended both arms palms up and the previously subdued crowd erupted into cheers. If not for the applause, he would have heard you groan. Your sister said nothing, only giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

When the speeches started you practically willed your ears shut. Perhaps you would have built a tolerance to them if you had appeared at more of these events, but you couldn't bear to listen to your father and elder brother boast of their achievements to a sea of complacent, nodding heads. It was like a reminder that within the kingdom your father built, you served your purpose by distracting that assassin some years ago and now outlived your usefulness. At this gala, you were decoration only a few ranks higher than a potted plant.

You thanked any and all higher powers when the speeches were over. Father and his crown prince had left the stage to begin their targeted commingling with VIPs, prompting you and your siblings to stand from your seats. They all dispersed before you could look to them to follow their lead. When you stumbled off the stage and distanced yourself from it by leaning against the wall as you walked, hardly any attention came your way. Thankfully, the attention you did receive was from Petra.

"Prince, are you alright? You look troubled," she said, sidling up to you.

"What do I do, Petra?" you asked, intimidated by the sheer size of the room and the attendees within it. Each table was like its own little kingdom with strangers you didn't know and faux-pas to stumble over.

"See how each table has an empty chair or two?" She pointed to the tables nearest you, one full of scaly Sāmm-abraṣ emissaries and another with human diplomats bearing the flag of Bavaria. You nodded. "All the guests are expected to stay seated while dinner is served. They won't get up to dance and drink until the meal is concluded. Right now, only people from the host kingdom— like you, me, your siblings, and other members of the court— will be walking around."

"So I just sit at whichever table and introduce myself?"

"If you even need to. The fact you're walking will show them you're hosting. They'll pay you proper respect without you saying anything at all."

"Hm," you mused. That sounded like a lot of work, especially since you weren't aiming to meander. Finding Amon would be immeasurably more difficult once the crowd was disorganized and inebriated, though, so now was your best chance.

"I've a copy of your list, Prince. Shall I help you navigate it?" Petra asked, holding up parchment.

"Yes, let's," you said. The lengthy document threatened to touch the floor. "Let's begin alphabetically."

"Alphabetically, Prince?"

"By first name."

"Of course, Prince. That means we should visit Aariyeh, Sardar of Anatolia, followed by Abdul II, Knez of Smederevo—"

"Any Eparchs on that list?" You winced at your own forwardness. The charade was wearing dangerously thin.

"...Eparchs?"

"I'm in an Eparch mood at the moment," you explained weakly. Petra looked at you as if checking for signs of illness.

"I see. There's one: Amon II of Nobatian Lower Makuria and Alodia."

"He sounds splendid. Take me to him."

Petra, either from exasperation, deference, or both, folded up the list and took your arm without another word. She led you through the clusters of gala attendees. You could feel every one of their eyes watching you as you caught their attention. Just as the scrutiny was starting to become too much, your eyes found a target of their own. A warm shiver ran through your spine, a sensation the French would call déjà rêvé: a dream made real.

His verdigris eyes locked onto yours. They peered at you from behind short, white curls of shiny hair. His skin reminded you of the bluebells in the gardens, and his pert, curled horns were a shade darker. He flashed something between a grin and a smirk at you, revealing pearlescent teeth with canines that could be mistaken for fangs.

Amon was breathtaking and he knew it.

If your arm wasn't in Petra's grasp already, you never would have made it to the chair. She struggled a bit as she plopped you into it, your leg brace protesting with clicks and creaks. The other tieflings at the table, all varying shades of azure, stopped what they were doing to acknowledge your arrival. You gave them a weak nod while you regained your composure.

"Greetings, delegation from Lower Makuria and Elodia. I'd like to introduce you to our Middle Prince," Petra said from over your shoulder, upon which she planted a firm hand. She squeezed hard.

"I'm pleased to meet you all," you managed to get out. Your audience of tieflings nodded and muttered.

"As am I, Middle Prince." Amon set his cutlery down and rested his chin on interlaced fingers. His voice was high and carried a boyish, scheming air; you envisioned him stealing lumps of sugar from a pantry. "I didn't think my kingdom warranted such a visit. What brings you to my little exclave of Nobatia?"

"A whim."

"How quaint," he said, still smirking. His gaze shifted as he eyed his all-tiefling entourage. The intent was to communicate something, though you didn't know what.

"I am the middle prince, after all. I've few obligations. None, actually," you said.

"Hm," Amon said, looking decidedly amused. "We may have more in common than we thought." His retinue nodded along with his observation.

"Surely you are a busy man? You are Eparch of not one, but two territories."

"Do you know what the title 'Eparch' entails, Middle Prince?" Amon said, more as a targeted quip than an actual question.

"I... am not familiar, I admit," you ceded.

"An Eparch is a figurehead. Makuria and Alodia have long been ruled by invaders and rebels, respectively. I'm kept in a symbolic position to preserve what's left of Nobatian culture," Amon sighed. "In fact, I was sent here in place of the true rulers since they thought it so unlikely that you would have anything important to say to us. Anything other than absorbing us into your hegemony, of course."

You averted your gaze. He clearly was not happy with his status, and while his discontent wasn't targeted at you, it hovered about him like a cloud. He picked at the remainder of his meal while the cloud dissipated and you plucked a topic from the clearing air.

"How was your journey here? You've come a long way," you said.

"It was pleasant enough. Your trains and... horseless carriages are quite impressive," Amon said, pausing. "What's your name for them again?"

"Automobiles," you answered.

"Yes, automobiles." He rolled the word in his mouth as if tasting wine. "Though you have such a fine river and only use it for cargo. A felucca would have made my journey quite enjoyable."

"A felucca?"

"Ah, it's my turn to inform you." Amon smiled. "A felucca is a sailboat we use on the Nile. It's built for comfort, with carpets instead of hardwood decks. Some even come with a kitchen, and it's unheard of to sail without finishing a pot of tea."

"It sounds lovely," you said. "Lavender tea, I hope."

Amon raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, my favorite," he looked amused. "How did you know?"

"A whim," you answered. "The same one that brought me over to your table."

"I see." His eyes locked with yours for a lengthy pause. His retinue shifted in their seats at the uncomfortable silence. He was thinking hard about something, but the subject of his thoughts remained unknown to you. If he truly shared the dreams with you, surely you must have gotten the point across by now?

"It was lovely chatting with you, Middle Prince." He broke the silence and straightened his posture. "But I would hate to keep you when you have other guests to see."

"I really don't—"

"Nonsense, my prince," he interrupted, "go on and mingle. Perhaps, if we're lucky, our paths will cross when the festivities begin in earnest."

You couldn't believe your eyes. Did he wink at you?

"Of course..." you said, slowly realizing he was scheming. "Enjoy the gala." He locked eyes with you again.

"Oh, we will."

You had resumed hovering with Petra on the edges of the great hall. More staff had filed in to take away dirty dishes and the remains of the guests' meals. The dance floor had been opened, the musicians were in position, and staff bearing silver trays readied drinks for the merry and hors d'oeuvres for the peckish.

"How was your visit with the Eparch?" Petra asked.

"Enlightening," you answered cryptically. The need for secrecy hadn't passed, but now you were unsure of what charade to uphold. You only knew Amon was in on it as well.

"I trust that means it went well?"

"Yes, I think so." You scanned the crowd of attendees, which had now gotten up from their seats and begun to mix and intermingle. Amon disappeared like an ace into a shuffled deck. Petra flashed you an impatient expression.

"Prince, do you want me to help you get with him or not?" She said with folded arms.

"Petra!" You gasped. "You're rather forward."

"It's quite literally my job to make sure you end up with him if you wish it, Prince," she assumed a stern tone as if you refused your vegetables. "Give me a yes or no."

You stewed under her gaze. It seemed the pressure and time-sensitive nature of the gala had started to affect her as well, though for different reasons to you.

"Yes." You muttered. She didn't ask for confirmation, instead slipping away into the crowd with nothing more than a nod. Was this part of the charade, still? You had no idea what Amon even wanted, or frankly, what you wanted from tonight.

The musicians started and the small groups that had formed on the edge of the dance floor produced couplets of dancers. They were eager to begin the waltz, a somewhat contentious dance that had only recently come into popularity. You hadn't been practiced in it, instead learning of court dances like the cotillion. As you watched it take place, the dancers seemed awfully close. They were practically pressed against one another!

While you tried to discern the intricacies of this new style of dance before you, that familiar azure face peeked at you from the crowd. Amon smiled and raised his drink in your direction. It was a small gesture but you were helpless to do anything other than join him. Before you knew it, you were at his side in the sea of people and some sort of libation had been thrust into your hand.

"You know, I'm starting to grow partial to this stuff," Amon said, sipping on a duplicate of the drink you held.

"I was under the impression your faith disallowed the consumption of alcohol," you said, watching him finish the glass.

"An easy mistake to make." He handed off the glass to a roving staff member. "Modern Makurians and Alodians don't drink. Nobatians like me do. It's one of the holdovers of my dead culture."

You looked at the glass in hand; it was a clear, cold drink with a slice of lime. As you expected, the taste was bitter and unwelcoming.

"You like gin?" You asked, one taste enough to identify it.

"As I said, it's starting to grow on me," Amon chuckled. "It's not good enough to stop me from missing home, but it'll get me through the night."

"Speaking of home..." you started, looking around. You were unable to spot any other blue-skinned tieflings in the crowd. "where has your retinue gone?"

"I told them to enjoy themselves. As my courtiers, that means they're likely hovering by the exit, waiting to escort me out of here when I leave."

"They seem like a serious bunch."

"They're overprotective," Amon hissed. "As I said, my culture is long dead. They see it as dying. They think they can save it by putting me in a glass case for future generations to study."

"You've given up on Nobatia?"

"Pah! Of course I have!" He deftly procured another drink from a passing waiter. "Nothing will bring the old country back. Nobatia is a minuscule region; I can say with certainty I'm the youngest one left. When I'm old and infirm, Makuria and Alodia will reject the idea of a royal family entirely and I'll finally be allowed to be forgotten."

"That's quite a bleak outlook, Eparch," you gently chided. "Perhaps in war, things would be on a fixed course, but matters of diplomacy are more malleable."

"Perhaps," Amon said, sipping his gin. "But that's enough about me. I'd like to know more about you."

His eyes looked into yours as if he would magick the information he wanted straight out of you. No incantations were uttered, though, and you took a pragmatic sip of gin to fill the pause.

"What would you like to know?" You said.

"I'd like to know about this 'whimsy' you have," Amon probed. "To be frank, my prince, I expected to be out the door by now. Instead, I'm here, conversing with you. It doesn't make sense."

You finished your gin. This was as good a time as any to explain yourself.

"What do you know of oneiromancy?" The question left your lips and slapped Amon across the face. He chuckled.

"The school of magick so vague and unmeasurable it's not even officially recognized?"

"It seems you know the same as most," you said. "Oneiromancy is real. At least, real enough to give me the same dream night after night."

"I see..." Amon was mulling something over.

"In each one of these dreams, though my waking memory is hazy, I remember one thing they all had in common." You took a deep breath. "You."

"We should discuss this in private," Amon interjected, gently brushing your hand against his. You had been so caught up with telling Amon that you forgot you were in the middle of a crowded gala. Concern crept into the corners of his face. "Do you have a place we can go?"

You nodded and grasped his hand in earnest. The spot you took him to was one of the many balconies that overlooked the palace gardens. The sun had set fully at this point, and waltz music lazily floated out of the great hall. A few revelers who had over-indulged caught the fresh air in the hedges below. You and Amon rested on the cool marble balustrade, momentarily admiring the mingling of crickets, music, distant conversation, and the night air.

"I've been having the dreams as well. All of them involving you in some... capacity. I wasn't sure it was you at first. The dreams were so vague..." Amon kept his gaze fixed on the gardens below.

"Were the dreams... um, did you wake up... well..." you stammered. He looked at you knowingly.

"Yes, a few times," Amon answered. He didn't seem nearly as embarrassed as you. "You suspect oneiromancy is at play?"

"The court oneiromancers determined the dreams are being intentionally created. They're not a coincidence."

"Court oneiromancers?" Amon nearly spat out his drink. "My, you do have everything in this kingdom."

"Yes, we have court oneiromancers, but your surprise is beside the point." You had finally found the mysterious Amon, and you didn't want to waste any time on tangents. "Surely you're just as curious as I? Do you know anything about these dreams?" Amon drained the remainder of his gin in response.

"When I was a child..." He paused and shook his head. "When I was a child, my mother told me folk tales. The standard stuff: damsels in distress, slaying horrific beasts, that sort of thing. But she also told me tales of lovers who met in dreams. She said that was how she and father met."

"Something tells me you don't believe in that."

"When I grew too old for fairy tales, I saw it as her way of helping me keep hope that the one would be out there. With Nobatia falling and no suitors left..." he trailed off, setting his empty glass on the balustrade.

"So what if she's right?"

"That's a rather large 'if,' my prince. She was the only one that believed in that stuff... Aside from an uncle who would tell more dreamers-to-lovers tales, but only after drinking too much boukha, and always with a sarcastic tongue. They're just that: tales."

You felt Amon's cloud of discontent precipitate once more. His words were scathing, but not towards you; they spoke to a painful past and familiarity with disappointment. He saw something hopeful, happy, and promising, then cast it down in order to never feel the pain of losing it. You rarely had such clear insights about people, but with Amon it was different. It was as if you had known him for a long time and learned the language spoken by his brow, posture, and eyes. You knew what you had to do.

"Amon," you sighed, placing a hand on his, "even fairy tales originate from some truth, even if only a little. Don't be afraid to entertain the notion that your mother might be right."

You tried to look him in the eyes, but he cast his gaze down to the gardens below. His quick tongue failed him and silence ensued. His hand had reluctantly surrendered itself to your grasp, resting warm and limp.

"Look at me," You commanded with a firmer tone than expected. Reluctantly, he swiveled towards you and his aquamarine eyes found their way to yours. "Think about what you truly want. Don't be afraid to take it."

He swallowed. After a pause of a few heartbeats, his free hand grasped the back of your head, entwined his fingers in your hair, and pressed your lips to his. Your hand that held his grasped even tighter. The two of you were entwined in your own scandalous waltz. You could feel his hunger just as clearly as you felt his discontent when he parted your lips with his tongue. You reciprocated, catching fleeting impressions of his sharp teeth. He tasted like gin and figs. Short, passionate gasps and moans escaped the two of you and joined the chorus of crickets. You pulled away only to catch your breath.

"Amon," you gasped, his name sweet on your tongue. He looked at you with a bewildered expression and flushed navy cheeks. Neither of you could believe what just happened, yet surprise gave way to familiarity. Kissing Amon made your heart race but your shoulders relax. Being breathless and panting in his embrace was as recognizable to you as Petra's morning wake-up calls, or the smell of the gardens, or the feeling of your bedchamber floor on your bare feet. Déjà rêvé.

"I..." Amon sighed, "I shouldn't. I've had too much gin. I've been foolish." He released you from his arms and took several steps backward. Your jaw hung agape as he jogged inside and disappeared from view. Too shocked to try to catch him, you remained outside and alone on the balcony with only the sound of crickets and distant strings to keep you company. Just as silently and perceptively as a cat, Petra crept from the doorway a short while later.

"I saw Amon run away and came to check on you." She looked at your expression and reciprocated with a downtrodden look of her own. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. Probably not." You sighed and buried your face in your elbows until all you could see was the balustrade. You sensed Petra take a few steps towards you.

"What happened?" She asked delicately.

"We kissed, passionately. Then he said he was foolish and ran away," you mumbled into your self-embracing arms. Petra rested a hand on your shoulder.

"Some people just can't handle the fast pace and the pressure at galas like this. I'm sure it wasn't personal."

"I know..." you sighed. To Petra, your attempts at flirting simply failed to land. She didn't see the dreams. She didn't see the look in his eyes. She didn't hear the fear of hope in his voice. There were not enough hours in the night to explain to her the true extent of your sorrows.

"There's always tomorrow, Prince."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tonight is only for the Gala," Petra explained, her tender tone turning slightly optimistic, "anyone attending will be staying at least until tomorrow night for the treaty signing."

"So Amon is still here, then?" you asked, finally pulling your forehead from its resting place on your folded arms.

"He was likely running to the guest wing of the palace, where all the other dignitaries will be. If you truly wish to meet with him again, breakfast tomorrow morning would be an excellent opportunity."

You considered things for a moment. If Amon were to stay one more night, then that was one more dream to share. Tonight, you and Amon would spring awake in bed at the same time after another shared dream, but he would be only a few corridors away.

"Petra, get me an oneiromancer." You commanded.

"An oneiromancer? At this time of night? They're probably attending the gala with the rest of the court."

"Petra, this is important," you said. "I haven't exactly been forthcoming about everything in these recent days, and I'm sorry for that... but I need an oneiromancer before I sleep tonight. If you can do this for me, I promise to explain everything soon."

Petra looked at you silently, deciding whether or not to press you for details now rather than later contingent on your promise. She chose the former, nodding and silently fast-walking inside.

Alone once more on the balcony, you leaned on the balustrade and studied the stars. The moon's halo of illuminated night sky was the same color as Amon's lips. With any luck, you'd be seeing them again soon in tonight's dream.

#exophilia #monster x reader #monster x human #romance #male reader #tiefling #male tiefling x male reader #monster love #mlm #monster romance #monster fic #mlm romance

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meltwonu · 3 years

Text

| 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔦 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 | [CHAPTER 4]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x reader

this chapter’s notes; fratboy!wonwoo, fingering, littlest bit of dirty talk, praise!kink, soft soft soft FLUFF hours, a bit of a filler chapter before the last chapter!! 😭 I can’t believe it’s almost ‘over’... This chapter has the least amount of smut yall will ever see with fratboy!wonwoo so don’t get used to it ☠️ LMAO 🤣🤣 also... it’s been a garbage week(boring work drama) for me so I’ll answer inbox msgs and stuff on sunday, I need to get away from the internet(and people) for a day dkfjhskh 😭💕 Ya’ll thank you for so much love and support with Caffeine and Until I Met You! It means so much to me and I appreciate every like, reblog and comment I get on it 🥺💕 No I will never be ending my fratboy!wonwoo au so don’t worry about that hehe 💕 For now, enjoy this soft ch 4 and I will see yall on Sunday! I love you, have a great weekend! 💕

[mood for this chapter: more than enough - alina baraz]

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - x

“So…”

Wonwoo sighs - re-shelving another Edgar Allen Poe book. “So, what?”

Mingyu tilts his sunglasses down, eyebrows raised at the older male that continues to do his job instead of give him the time of day. “What’s going on with you, hyung? You’ve been… weird.”

“Okay, define weird.”

The younger male pouts as he takes his sunglasses off, pocketing them as he leans up against the bookshelf that Wonwoo is currently still shelving.

It only takes one utterance of your name for Wonwoo to stop in his tracks - fingertips on the spine of another book as he turns to Mingyu. “What about her? Did she say something to you?”

“No, but do you like her? I mean, ‘like’ like her.”

“Is it not… obvious? That I do? Did we not all collectively have that conversation about me giving her a set of keys to our house?”

Mingyu grimaces slightly as he mentally goes through all the times he’d even seen the two of you together and he’s only able to conjure up a few select memories - none of which were anything necessarily romantic. “Well… I wouldn’t say ‘obvious’, I guess. The two of you aren’t exactly the ‘kiss and hold hands in public’ kind of... people. More like the, ‘sneak off to fuck in a public restroom’ kind... Which, uh, isn’t really... romantic.”

This time, Wonwoo crosses his arms and leans up against the opposite bookshelf as he sighs.

It’d been a few days since he’d seen you and you’d been swamped in so much class work that you didn’t even have the time to come by the library or the frat house. And even while Wonwoo stood in between the bookshelves having a conversation with Mingyu, you were finishing an art project with Minghao that was due by the end of the day.

“I know. I told her it’d be kind of a slow crawl for me.” He plucks another book from the cart, staring at the glossy text as he simmers in his thoughts. “Mingyu, am I awkward?”

“Erm, well, I wouldn’t say that necessarily.”

Mingyu steps forward, patting Wonwoo on the shoulder as he smiles.

“You like her and you’re trying even if you’re not used to it. You gotta start somewhere, hyung. Even if you’re a fish out of water. But that’s okay, you can ask me for help if you want!”

“When are you gonna put a ring on Wonwoo-hyung?”

You snort at Minghao’s question - reaching for a clean paintbrush as he stands across from you in the large, empty studio. “First of all, can you not say it like that? I’m not gonna marry him, okay.”

The male rolls his eyes as he steps closer to you; his own hands and clothes covered in a colorful array of paints. “So you’re saying you never imagined hyung in a suit, hair slicked back and his buff arms carrying you off into your honeymoon?”

“W--wh--n--no! No, I haven’t!” You avoid his piercing stare as you focus on your end of the large canvas instead.

No, but I dreamt about it once.

“‘Hao, would you hurry! We’re supposed to be collaborating on this and it looks… like it’s 5 different art styles.”

“Don’t change the subject on me. And anyway, I like what you’re doing to hyung. Breaking him out of his shell, y’know? He’s just shy, that’s all. Needs a little work in the bold department.”

You bite down the urge to laugh because to you, Wonwoo was everything but shy when it came to the bedroom. Although, Minghao was right with everything else. “Yeah, I know. We went for breakfast together after I, um, stayed over a few nights ago and he kinda just sat there zoned out, picking at his waffles. He’s really cute when he wakes up in the morning though. Pouty and whiny.”

Grinning at Minghao, he pretends to gag in response before taking a seat next to you.

“Disgusting. Tell me more.”

Wonwoo makes an effort to check in with you throughout the day before he heads back to his room - asking you if you’d had your meals and if you’d finished your project on time.

You’d answered sporadically as you and Minghao raced to finish.

‘I’ll eat late probably… rly gotta finish or else my ass is failing lol’

‘Just don’t forget, okay? It’s not good for you to skip.’

Wonwoo lays down in his bed; yawning as he sets his phone onto the nightstand next to himself.

His eyelids feel heavy and he’s quick to give in to the tiredness that takes over him once he gets comfortable.

When Wonwoo finally decides to shift during his nap, he finds it difficult and extra warm.

“Mmh…”

His bleary eyes adjust to the, now, slightly darkened room as he makes out your figure tucked underneath his arm. He calls your name softly - waking you up from the nap that you’d apparently joined him in.

“Mmh… Wonwoo…” You snuggle in deeper, voice still laced with sleep. “You didn’t even budge when I came in…”

He chuckles softly as he readjusts to spoon you from behind instead; his strong arm wrapped around your waist to keep your body flush against his own.

“I’m surprised you came by, sweetheart. I would’ve just stayed awake had I known you were coming over.” His voice is groggy and laced with sleep as you sigh softly in return as you blink away the sleepiness.

“How was your day at the library? Miss me yet?” Wonwoo smiles into your shoulder before he tilts his head up to kiss the shell of your ear.

“Always, sweetheart. Although, Mingyu decided to keep me busy today.”

“Oh? Anything fun?”

He plays with the hem of your shirt, “Well… Fun isn’t the word I’d use to describe what that was. Nosy was more like it.”

This time you can’t help but snort in response. “You too? I think some people were being ‘lil moles today.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it. Did you end up just coming back here with Minghao from the studio?”

“Wasn’t planning on it, to be honest but… S’been a rough day.” Placing your hand over his arm, you squeeze slightly as you pull his arm around you tighter. “Our professor came by while we were working in the studio and said our project wasn’t up to par with what Minghao and I usually submit for projects. She didn’t fail us on the spot but she said we need to redo it for less credit or take the failing grade.”

Wonwoo nuzzles your neck; peppering small kisses on your clothed shoulder. “I take it the two of you are going to redo it?”

“Mm… We spent so long coming up with a concept and now we’re both stressed about coming up with something new. I walked over here with ‘Hao and he locked himself up in his room as soon as we got here. Figured I’d come hang out with you and found you napping… With your glasses on, no less.”

The two of you share a laugh; Wonwoo’s embrace making you feel more at ease.

“Can I help you de-stress a little, sweetheart?”

You stare at the opposite wall, nodding gently as Wonwoo’s hand leaves the hem of your shirt in favour of the waistband of your shorts.

“Just want you to feel good,” he whispers. “You deserve it. You’ve been working so hard, baby.”

He teases you softly; fingertips ghosting across your skin as you shiver. “Ah, Wonwoo…”

“You worked extra hard today too, didn’t you? I’m so proud of you for what you accomplished today.”

Your body heats up at his praise and you can’t deny that his deep, soft voice sends thrums of arousal pouring over your body just as he dips his hand into your lounge shorts. He touches you over your panties - fingertips ghosting against your mound as you moan his name shakily in return.

“I know your new idea is going to be great, baby. I believe in you.”

Soft whines threaten to spill as Wonwoo strokes you over your panties - slowly working you up as you find yourself trying to grind against his hand. “Y-yeah… ‘m p-pretty sure ‘Hao’s already working on it…”

Your voice is barely above a whisper as Wonwoo continues to stroke you gently; making no efforts to rush or add pressure to his feather-light touches.

A disappointed noise falls from your lips when he starts to pull his hand out of your shorts but it quickly turns into a content sigh when he starts teasing your chest instead.

“Mm, so soft…” Muttering against your shoulder, his eyes stare off into the dark room as he massages your body. “And all mine~”

You hum in response, “We should go on a date sometime…”

“You want to? We can go this weekend. After you’ve redone some of your project. I’ll take you somewhere nice for a job well done.”

You giggle softly; images of a wedding day’s Wonwoo dancing in your mind after the conversation you’d had with Minghao earlier. “I’d like that. We should do something for the whole day.”

“Whatever you’d like, baby.”

Wonwoo’s hand flits down your body again - snaking into your shorts and, this time, into your panties as you whine. “Do you wanna cum or go back to sleep, hmm?”

You ponder it for a second as the drowsiness equates the urge to cum on his fingers.

“Both? I wanna cum and then sleep a little more... If that’s okay?”

Wonwoo hums in agreement as his fingertips drag through your folds - collecting the wetness on them before he teases your soaked hole. “Only a little teasing gets you this wet, hmm? So cute.”

“Ah, f-feels good when you go slow t-too...”

He stores that away in his head for later; chuckling against your shoulder as he slowly starts to dip his middle finger into your cunt.

You feel warm and content when he starts a slow pace - thumb on your clit rubbing soft, slow circles while he pumps his finger into you.

“O-oh, Wonwoo...”

“You’re always good for me, baby. Always such a good girl.”

“Ah, Wonwoo...”

“You can cum whenever you want. You deserve it.”

He adds his index finger - thrusting both fingers into you as you mewl and arch away from his warm chest. Your toes curl and your thighs clamp and trap his hand between your legs as you start to grind down onto his nimble fingers.

“...W--Wonwoo...”

“That’s right, baby. Call my name, let me hear your pretty voice when your cumming for me.”

You turn your head - cries muffled into his pillow because despite his slower than usual pace, you find yourself already on the brink of cumming with his fingers knuckle deep inside of you and his thumb on your clit.

“Mmh... Ah... Feels s-so warm... and g-good...” You mutter, eyes blinking drowsily. “Gonna c-cum...”

He doesn’t say anything in return as he focuses on you and your pleasure; fingers scissoring and curling right into your g-spot as you clamp down onto them in a vice grip.

Wonwoo knows when you’re about to cum when he feels your hand coming down on his forearm, holding onto him for dear life when your orgasm still hits you just as hard.

“Ngh, Wo---Wonwoo!”

Your walls flutter around his fingers and make it harder for him to thrust them in and out with how tight you get.

“That’s my good girl. Cum for me, baby~”

His deep voice makes you whine - nails digging into his arm and body trembling as the pleasure steadily washes over you.

“Ah, bet your face is so pretty right now too~”

“Mmh, s-stop...” Your cheeks burn in slight embarrassment from his constant praise but you can’t deny the way it goes straight to your core and only prolongs your orgasm.

“Don’t be so shy, baby. It’s only you and me here.”

Wonwoo leans away slightly to kiss the crown of your head - still working you through your orgasm as you sigh contentedly in his arms.

Various thoughts run through his head in the moment, but the one that sits at the forefront of his mind is definitely how to make sure he kept treating you right.

Starting with your date that he would spend time meticulously planning.

‘Ah, I should ask Mingyu for some advice.’

#wonwoo smut #wonwoo fluff #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen fluff #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #wonwoo fic #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #uimy_meltwonu

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soupbabe · 3 years

Note

hello this is specific but can i request fugo pannacotta w an extroverted and affectionate male s/o whos also rly into the grunge/rock aesthetic?? thank you in advance!!

Pannacotta Fugo x Extroverted + Grunge Male S/O

Giving Fugo the alt bf he deserves 😌

When Bruno introduced you to the team, he made the assumption that you were going to be like Abbacchio

You both wore darker colors and your ripped jeans and combat boots did give off an intimidating energy

But that didn't stop him from introducing himself. If you were going to be a 2nd Abbachio, he'd rather leave a good impression just in case

He was pleasantly surprised when you waved and smiled back, immediately sitting next to him to spark a conversation

Ever since you met Fugo, you've been closer to him compared to any other team member

It's not like he minded at all, you were easy to talk to and you helped carry the conversation on for him

I think when he started developing a crush on you, he was kind of freaked out

Not because you were the reason why he knows he likes other boys, it was mostly a Fugo can't process strong emotions all that well and it becomes stressful for him to deal with

What if you aren't gay? What if you liked someone else? Would he actually be a good boyfriend for you? Were some of his most common thoughts surrounding it

He spent this time ranting to Narancia and Mista about it

Probably the few people who can act calm when they see him screaming into a pillow about how to impress a cute boy-

You both ended up together because Narancia accidentally told you in a conversation about your love life

It almost resulted in his murder

When you two start dating, I think that's when you actually start being more affectionate with Fugo

Before you would sometimes give him a celebratory hug after missions, but he just pushed you off and asked you to not do that again

Now that you both are dating, it shows that he's warmed up to you and is more open to that kind of affection

He isn't the biggest fan of PDA, especially in front of the gang

Gotta keep it professional you know?

But you both settle on hand holding and you laying your head on his shoulder during a car ride

In more private settings, he's more open to cuddling and kisses (he's a bit awkward at first, but he melts into it quickly)

You two mostly spend your time cuddling up together talking about your day or Fugo reads a book out loud for you when you need to go to sleep

Regarding your aesthetic, he doesn't mind it at all

Though sometimes people refuse to actually believe that the boy in a suit and the boy in loose fitting flannels and untied shoes are actually a couple

If anyone in the gang pokes fun at your style, he's immediately there to defend you and tell them off

"Excuse me, but my boyfriend's clothes are fine just the way they are! Also Mista, you wear sweaters in summer. It's Italy, no wonder you smell like shit!"

His favorite thing to do is to wear your shirts to sleep

They smell like you and you typically buy a size larger for maximum comfort, which Fugo can agree with

I see Fugo as a guy who likes classical and softer music, but he actually doesn't mind the rock music you like playing in your free time

In conclusion, Fugo loves his grunge bf and he always feels so lucky to have you

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #pannacotta fugo x reader #pannacotta fugo #jjba part 5 #golden wind #golden wind x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure golden wind

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the-fiction-witch · 3 years

Text

I Like Boys Too

TV SHOW THE QUEENS GAMBIT

COUPLE BENNY WATTS X READER (MALE)

RATING SMUT AF!!

I sat at the hotel bar sipping at a beer, I knew I had a headache coming on but maybe the beer would numb it.

"Hey watts" I heard a voice behind me smile I turned and saw townes with a whiskey he came over sitting at the bar beside me a still between us

"Hey towens" I nodded

"Haven't seen you around much"

"I haven't been around much"

"Last I spoke to you-" he joked

"You were in Moscow, With Beth."

"I was," he says sipping his drink "I know you wanted to be there with her"

"I wanted a lot of things…" I answered having a long sip of my drink finishing the bottle

"You'd think you hate her" he laughs

"I don't hate her, I'm incredibly happy for her, world championship… been a long time since any american held that, let alone someone as good as her, I'm happy for her, and… the small help I supplied in getting her there" I explain I was going to get another but he had finished his whiskey so he bought a round

"Too miss Elizabeth harmon, World Chess Champion" he laughs I laughed to clicking his glass with my bottle "I miss her being around"

"Yeah… I do too"

"She brought an elegance, a beauty to these things, without her these places are one big, boring, grey-"

"Sausage fest?"

"You could say so" he laughs

"She did, she always made these places seem more glamorous"

"Where is she nowadays anyway?"

"Kentucky." I answered "with Beltik"

"With Beltik." He laughs "That girl could have any boy in the world"

"And she takes him" I sighed having almost half my beer

"Oh all the boys in the world right" he laughs

"Yeah," I nodded

"Hey hun? Are you coming to dinner?" I heard another voice say, I looked and saw another guy in a little red suit jacket

"Yeah just a sec" he winked giving this guy a kiss and he Wandered off "sorry, date night" he laughs

"Yeah, you uhh you go" I told him "have fun"

"I am… sorry about it all watts" he says I tried to force the memory away, I didn't want to think about it "it's Alright you'll find a pretty girl" he says tapping my shoulder as he went off with his boyfriend, I sighed having more beer, I didn't want to think about it. I looked around the bar and small restaurant thinking my mind wandering to strange places. Of everything I've done… I'd never had a boyfriend, I couldn't imagine what it would be like, going to dinner with another man, or kissing another man, or… being intimate with another man. I had nothing against honest towens and his boyfriend are adorable, they work so well together and they're happy so who cares.

I wonder what it would be like having a boyfriend….

We could share clothes. I wouldn't have to deal with make up in my house. We could sit and drink beer while discussing sports. Wait, I hate sports. We could discuss chess! We could go to the movies and not watch romcoms. I had never really thought about it as an option for me but then again why not? It's not like I don't understand how a dick works, I mean I have one. By that logic I should be a good damn fucking expert! I understand a dick way better than I understand a Virgina or atleast I think I do.

I looked around the bar area, I have no idea how to do this. Then again to be fair I don't completely know how to do it for girls either, I don't think I've ever tried that hard to pick up a girl they just sort of… come to me. I saw a guy standing with a beer. He looked at me so I waved and he looked confused and wandered off.

Well, that didn't work.

"Hey give me a beer man" a guy said to the bar man as he sat down on that still where towens had been he reached for his wallet but

"No it's okay, I got it" I said paying for his and for another myself luckily this stuff isn't exactly strong

"Cheers" he laughs, fixing a cuff of his blue button down, he was strong much more so than me, his pants rather tight given what I had been thinking about I found I was looking much more, his glittering silver watch, his hair styled interestingly enough but nothing to distracting.

"No problem" I smiled "Benny watts" I said offering my hand

"Y/n y/l/n" he says giving my hand a shake

"You play? I've not seen you around?'

"I don't, always wanted to but I'm shit" he laughs sipping his beer "reporter. Pays the bills" he shrugs

"Yeah, I see why you mean" I laughed "what are you working on?"

"Just an update peice, scores and ranks. If it ain't the girl readers aren't interested" he says

"Sorry you haven't got anything more interested to report on" I laughed

"It's alright, I'm use to it" he shrugs "so you play?'

"Yeah" I nodded "when I can"

"You got your girlfriend upstairs?" He says making me jump a little at the sudden question

"No, single as always" I shrug "you got your girlfriend here helping you out?"

"No, not my kinda thing" he shrugs

"Yeah?"

"Yeah,"

"You know I uhh I have a little extra time. I do head back to New York till the morning. If you want I could… give you something interesting to write about" I suggested

"I'd like that, Mr Watts" he smirked "ten O'clock, five nine two" he winked finishing up his beer "I'll be waiting"

"Ten it is" I smirked as he got up and headed off into the hotel, I smirked to myself. This is an odd night I wouldn't have expected it to go this way but fuck it I'm rolling with it. I finished my beer and headed up to my room having a quick shower and standing by my hotel mirror trying to do something… with my hair. I don't know. I haven't had a date in forever. If this is even a date. I haven't had sex in a while, but I suppose it's not like I'm going to forget how to do it. I hope he's done this before because… I haven't got any Ideas, you'd think as a guy I would know but, I really don't. Maybe I should talk with towens and his boyfriend more often.

I got dressed into my jeans and my green button down only doing half of it up as usual, and heading out to his room. I tried to walk confidently even if I didn't feel it, why am I so nervous it's just a hookup? Nothing I haven't done before, just not...like this. I knocked and stood trying not to look nervous when he opened the door his blue button down almost completely undone his jeans even tighter then before, he leant on the doorframe smirking as he looked me up and down

"Hey"

"Hey" I answered

"You wanna come in for a cup of coffee?' he asks

"Uhh yeah," I nodded so he let me inside his room much like my own "I'll make it" I said Heading to the side where a cheap electric kettle sat with some little coffee and tea packets from the hotel I clicked the kettle on and started making the coffee until I felt his strong body press against me I could feel his jeans buckle in my back his hands snaked around me his fingers playing with the button strips on my shirt inches from my exposed skin, I gasped and held my breath feeling his hands so close to my skin

"That's not the kinda coffee I meant Benny"

"Isn't it? I uhh I thought it was"

"No, it wasn't" he smirked gently grinding his hips against me I could feel his erection against my arse, I didn't know what to think for a moment until I turned to face him, "what's wrong?" He asks

"Nothing, nothing" I answered unable to tear my eyes away from his exposed chest, only ever glancing up to his plump lips, he smiled wickedly at me

"Ohh I get it" he smirked before I could say anything his hands grabbed behind my thighs and he lifted me up to sit on the counter moving me like I was nothing to him, like he could have done it one handed or that to him I was as light as anything else. "Your one of those boys" he smirked moving forward giving my neck a few gentle kisses, I couldn't deny ever kiss drove me crazy

"One of those boys?" I asked

"The ones who need a little…" he smirked moving his hands to sit one each on my knees "attention to get them going" he growled pushing on my knees making my legs open as wide as possible he moved quickly before I had time to react standing between my legs "you like this? Don't you benny?" He smirked grinding himself against me feeling his stiff long cock against my hardering erection, I couldn't stop staring at him

"Yes.." I gasped so I grabbed his neck and pulled his lips to my own partly to stop me moaning, I tasted his aftershave, I tasted his beer, I tasted him, and I loved it. I could feel his smooth skin as he kissed be back it turning fast into hot and heavy make outs my hands playing and toying with his hair as he undid my shirt buttons pushing it off me I tried to do the same to him but I only did two buttons before he picked me up again. I grabbed onto his neck a little scared of dropping to the floor but he pushed us over so I landed on my back on his bed he smirked as he still stood, over me between my legs still, I sat up on my elbows slightly trying to shuffle up the bed with my nerves, he smirked down at me egarly, I gulped beyond nervous he leant down to kiss me but I pushed him back "wait, wait, wait" I said quickly

"What's up? You uhh don't look so great? Are you okay benny?"

"I uhhhhh I have to be honest y/n" I told him as I sat up rubbing my arm a little "I uhhh I've never done this before"

"Never?"

"Never."

"Humm… pretty dirty for a little virgin boy then" he smirked

"What, no. I'm not a Virgin"

".... I'm confused"

"I've had sex before just… not with a guy."

"Oohh." He nods "did you.. want to?"

"I uhh I think I do"

"You think or you do Benny? I don't wanna do this is you don't want to"

"No no I want to, just a little confused and nervous and all" I explain

"I'll be gentle, I promise" he reassured "so you a top or a bottom?"

"Uuuuhhhhh…. I do not have a bunk bed"

"Ohhh my god you can tell you're straight" he sighed "when your with a girl Benny? Would you rather… push her on the bed face first and fuck her hard or would you rather her pin your arms to the bed and ride your cock?" He smirked pressing kisses down my jaw, my neck and down my chest towards my belt

"Uhhh depends on the girl" I answered

"Well I guess you should be top as… your not really ready for.. me inside you"

"Aren't I?"

"No, your not Benny," he laughs "don't worry I'll give you a little confidence first" he winked moving and undoing my belt before I could say another word my jeans where on the floor, I bit my mouth hard trying not to see his reaction as my now fully hard cock sat tall in my boxers "big boy I see Benny" he smirked "lay down, and get comfy" he says pushing my stomach so I did as he asked and laid back down staring at the molded pattern in the ceiling he pulled back my boxers and I hissed feeling my erection against the cold air of the room "excitable tonight" he smirked blowing a little warm air across my head, he pushed my up and apart which freaked me out a little so my feet sat on the edge of the bed, my first thought was. This is a weird position and the secondly I feel… very exposed, I think I get why boyfriends are so close, you really can't hide anything like this. I focused on the ceiling unsure what it would be like, I heard him lick his lips and within seconds he took every inch or my cock in his mouth, it was wet, an warm, and heavenly, I kept my eyes on the ceiling best I could even if I wanted to roll them back in pleasure, my mouth hung open tiny almost squeaky kind of moans leaking from my throat, he gently sucked my complete length which made me throb into his sucks, his lips clamped around my shaft, he moved back as he bobbed his head whenever he pulled back it didn't feel as good so my hands quickly went to his head to push him down where I needed him.

"Uuhhh UGHHH!" I groaned feeling so close, it felt so good, he pushed my hands off and moved away I tried not to whine even if I wanted too

"Bossy little thing aren't you" he smirked "keep them there, unless you wanna be inside me" he smirked pinning my arms to the bed either side of my head I nodded and he smirked returning back to the heavenly sucking, I couldn't help but groan rolling my head against the bed starting at the ceiling gripping the covers hard when it felt good, I couldn't help pushing his head down when I felt I was about to cum but he pushed me away

"No no no please" I begged "y/n… I was about to-"

"I know" he smirked offering his hand so I took it and he picked me up wrapping his arms around my waist resting his hand on my hip so I stood pulled into his side when if my legs barely wanted to stand I couldn't help my hand playing with the little line of chest hair between his pecks resting my head on his shoulder he smirked at me and used his other hand to move the bed around moving pillows and things around the bed almost like he was making a ramp or wedge, I gave his neck some little kisses as he worked until he took my hand from his chest giving it a kiss "cute little thing aren't you? Never imagined you'd be… such a bottom" he smirked

"Am I?"

"Ohh Benny baby your the most bottom boy over ever met" he smirked "that's fine, I like being a top" he growled

"What does that mean?"

"You understand Dom and sub right?"

"Yeah"

"Bottom is more sub"

"Oohh… yeah that's probably more me. Mostly because I am way to lazy"

"Your a cute little bottom" he smiled kissing me gently "and you tickle when you kiss" he smirked gently playing with my chin

"Did you uh want me to?" I suggested moving my hand from his down under his jeans but he quickly took my hand away

"I'm hard enough Benny. I know I said you weren't ready but… I'll deal with it." He smirked "I wanna fuck you"

"Uhh okay" I nodded nervous but excited

"Lay down" he smirked guiding me to lay down this wedge of pillows me had made so my ass was in the air "comfy?'

"Yeah"

"Good, you wanna help me?" He smirked standing at the foot of the bed right in front of my face I smirked a little undoing his jeans and tugging them down to his knees I was in shock and a little… I don't know, jealous, he was bigger then me he didn't have underwear so I was faced with his hard cock precum slowly dripping down his shaft he got a condom from his pocket so I took it ripping it open with my teeth gently slipping it on for him he smirked playing with my hair as I did, I was so tempted to suck him but he forced my head away "whoa… slow down there Benny," he smirked getting something from his bag "where gonna need this" he smirked showing me the familiar bottle, "you know this stuff?"

"Yeah, I have a bottle in my bag too" I blushed

"Yeah? For what?" He smirked

"Jerking off mostly"

"Well we need it," he smirked getting on the bus behind me, I could feel the bed creak and my heart race "your tight little virgin ass won't take my cock if I don't" he smirked slapping my ass hard with his left hand

"Whoa!" I said in shock feeling my cock throb as my ass stung with pain "uhh y/n?"

"Yeah Benny?" He smirked

"Could you uhh… do that again?" I asked

"Again? Like this?" He smirked doing it again slightly harder I could feel the lube on his fingers that time as he has been using that hand to lube himself up I smirked slightly biting my bottom lip

"Ummmm Humm" I mummbled nodding quickly

"Aww? You are such a subby bottom" he smirked "you like getting spanked Benny?"

"Yes…" I gasped

"Then be a good boy, and don't cum all over yourself, or I'll spank your sexy ass red raw Benny" he earned

I couldn't even reply as his hands gripped my ass hard, I stared at the hotel carpet unsure what else to focus on as I felt his throbbing erection press against me I held my breath before, it was a simple little push.

My eyes rolled back feeling like I was being stretched, feeling him throb inside me, my own cock twitching in desperation against the pillows, his hands gripped me tight likely would have nail marks by morning, I gripped the pillows tight, my mouth hung open, it hurt I couldn't deny, but it also felt Soo good, a pleasure I had never felt before and I never wanted it to stop

"Fuck! Your so tight! Fuck you feel so good" he groans starting to move fast and hard

I was in another world each thrust sending me deeper into this unexplainable world of pleasure I wanted to scream but not a word came out of my mouth.

"You okay benny?" He asks as he gently slowed

"No! No no! Don't stop y/n!" I begged "please, don't stop"

"Somebodies Happy. You like it Benny?"

"I love it" I groaned

"Yeah I do too" he smirked getting faster, the bed creaking and sqeeking with his every movement, I was so close feeling so an amazing feeling inside me he slapped my ass hard every chance he got, and as he did one hard time I hit a brick wall, my cum spurting across the pillows and my stomach, feeling like a firecracker got set off in my cock, and then a whole new sensation erupting inside of me the two sensations hitting at the same time

#benny imagine #benny x reader #benny smut #benny #benny watts #bennywattssmut #benny watts smut #benny watts imagine #bennywatts #tbs #thomas sangster #tbs smut #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #thomas sangster smut #tbs smutty

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beastsars · 4 years

Text

idiomatic | louis (beastars) x carnivore!reader

i wont promise that i’m over this trope, but i think i have fed myself enough to focus on other avenues. a few people sent in some legoshi stuff so that’s my next wip. keep them coming.

as usual, more mature content below. some fun times at the masquerade party.

“and what, pray tell, am i to do about these antlers?”

pursing your lips, you gave the stout head ornaments an accusatory look. those with distinctive marking and other decorative characteristics often had the hardest time concealing their species. it was easy enough to distinguish between herbivore and carnivore but the fun was found in simply not caring.

if your target audience put in enough effort to disguise themselves.

parties like these broke both social and sexual boundaries, allowing people to lose inhibition and act on their baser selves. before you met louis, such environments frequently occupied your time off campus. it helped to stimulate your attraction to the opposite dynamic and eventually bribe your courage to seek out a suitable partner.

bringing him here was symbolic of returning to your roots. it would also show him that he wasn’t alone in his affections. not that the sentiment didn’t already hit close to home.

“too bad you’re not about to shed them,” you comment offhandedly, rightfully earning a sharp look of ire. chuffing at the display of pride, you vowed to yourself that you would show the male exactly what such strict dignity led him to lose out on.

patting his muzzle with unveiled condescension, you managed to slip away from his agitated grasp. the deer continued to gripe and moan while you fitted yourself into a choice dress for the evening and prowled the selection of shoes. honestly, the way pursuing beastar felt at ease displaying the less ideal parts of his personality would be endearing if it didn’t possess so much whining.

it hardly mattered. you would give him something else to occupy his attention.

catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you offered the image a self-appreciating wink before stepping out of the closet, one leg protruding ahead of you to show off your finely fitted heels.

“tell me, if i was a herbivore, would you still beg me to bite you?”

the curve of your buttock marked the cut off point of your dress, leaving little to the imagination as the rest of the material hugged your form. this clothing style opted without the aperture to fit a tail, allowing the appendage to swing idly from beneath the depths. it often incited others to perk your mood if only for a brief show.

louis has obviously seen you in less, but the presentation was too pungent with erotic intentions for him to remember anything else. grinning, you permitted his hands to edge the hem of your dress, warm palms marking promises against your thighs.

“and what exactly do you plan to be tonight?” he drawled slowly.

you knew that look. the one that was going to quickly get you out of this dress if you didn’t corral him into his own suit for the night.

pressing a chaste kiss to his nose, you nudged him towards the closet.

“i guess you’ll have to find out.”

you opted to rent out a mask for the evening. this way you could keep your choice hidden for a few moments longer and ideally find something fresh to attend the party in. you had a nice selection at home, but you’d cycled through them enough that somebody would approach you out of familiarity.

upon arriving, you had put louis in the good hands of friends who helpfully escorted him out of your sight and into his own fitting room. but not without complaint as his sputtering curses trailed down the hall.

“he’s a cutie. he yours?”

offering a noncommittal shrug, you settled on a thinner, less intricate mask for the evening. your dress was inviting and memorable enough. in a place like this, it was hard to tell who would challenge a pair.

at the clink of glass against the table, you efficiently down the alcohol and reached for the bottle to chase the burn. sexual prowess aside, you possessed enough restraint to cater accordingly to the opposite disposition. it was more for the eased minds than anything else.

“you’ll have your hands full keeping females and males alike off of him. he’s a built boy. anyone would love to see what he’s packing,” there was a tease to the voice but desire had a place too. you doubted it would take long for subtlety to be washed out. proprietary didn’t exactly have a place here.

polishing off the rest your your drink, you made an effort to pat down any remaining wrinkles before donning your mask. “well, i better get to him quickly then.”

“it’s rather delicate. made of papier mache ,i think. do be careful, it’s borrowed.”

his words of warning were no match for your inquisitive touch, however, as you stretched up against his body to prod against the medium surrounding his antlers.

they’d fashioned him as a moose of all things.

you didn’t know how you hadn’t thought of it. but truly, it was the of the few options available to at least conceal his dominant species. without the stench of alcohol anyone would know he was a herbivore, but at least this way he would abide by the base rules.

the covering of his antlers was more of an addition than part of the mask. the inner workings using his antlers as a statue to hang the camouflage over. it was rather convincing.

when the costume creaked threateningly at your touch, louis’ hand shot up to snag your wrist.

“i said it’s fragile,” he insisted.

the hiss of his voice encouraged your gaze to drop to his mask to give it it’s own appreciation. it was certainly wider than his own face, marginally longer too, to account for the massive beast he was portraying. coupled with his slim but muscled body, even beneath the suit, he was likely to garner some provocative attention. it was a shame you had to break some many hearts openly tonight.

humming an octave lower than your usual voice, you pressed yourself against the male with your arms around his waist. chin propped against his chest, you offered a cheeky grin.

“so what do you think?”

forced to enter from the back due to his identifiable features, he’d wasn’t awarded to opportunity to take in the scenery. the night was young and tame as most of the individuals simply mingled and broke ice. you wondered how long it would take for habits to surface.

“it seems like any other social event,” he muttered distractedly. he was likely trying the mundane task of attempting to unveil species from beneath their masks. everyone fell privy to the game sooner or later.

louis palmed at your side,” more importantly, why do you smell so strongly of intoxication.”

“trade off of being a carnivore, unfortunately. herbivores feel safest when we’re too drunk off our asses to pull rank.” rising to toes you spoke with conspiracy in his ear while your free hand trailed down his midline. “personally, i think they just want to take advantage.”

the male didn’t take too kindly to being groped in public, quickly seizing your other hand as he hissed. “it seems they're not the only ones.”

unable to resist laughing, you let him have the control while it lasted. “baby, you have no idea.”

despite your best efforts, more than a few figures approached you in greeting. without the pleasantries of names, most of the conversation was geared towards speculative tastes and pillars of society. already trained in the practice small talk, louis led more of the conversation than he followed. his strong nature captured a majority of the attention anyway with his passionate disposition towards the arts.

sipping idly at something fruity, you leaned comfortably into his arm as your gaze wandered the party. as the night wore on, it was beginning to grow as more individuals showed up fashionably late. the amount of alcohol had doubled to accommodate as more trays made rounds. they naturally gravitated towards the carnivores more, no one ever having to reach more than an arms length for a glass.

louis laughed earnestly next to you, the pads of his fingers tracing odd shapes on your back as he transitioned smoothly into another topic. he seemed to be handling it all much better than you expected but the real festivities had hardly begun.

the moment the conversation began to veer towards the more illicit ventures of business, you politely excused yourselves to a less occupied corner of the room. dragging louis down by your grip at his elbow, you fell back eagerly into the plush couches.

“you seem to be enjoying yourself at least,” you mentioned as you leaned down to massage the muscle above the cut of your heel. your departure had a dual purpose as you really just need a moment off your feet. as exquisite as your shoes were, they rarely offered much comfort.

you hadn’t even realized that louis hadn’t even acknowledged your response as you switched to the other foot and ultimately debated taking them off while you rested. it certainly wouldn’t be the most unsightly proposition. eyes sliding shut, you leaned back again. maybe a few more drinks would change your mind about your less than ideal clothing choices.

at the sudden tension of muscle beneath you, your gaze snapped open to assess the problem.

“are they?”

from his broken articulation alone, you had an inclination of what was transpiring. you were wondering how long it would take.

humming delightfully from your position curled up against him, you followed his gaze across the room to a pair who decided to take initiative to properly get the get together started. clothing strewn this way and that, the left nothing to the imagination as they rutted against one another.

louis shuddered as your claw teased the fastens of his suit jacket but you didn’t go as far to pry the button from its place. in a situation like this, he was no better than a virgin and likely as easily frightened if approached wrong. not that it would stop you from proding.

“lou, you feel so warm. are you embarrassed?”

unable to help himself, the stag stuttered in his speech.” they’re practically mating in public.”

“ are mating in public,” you chided unhelpfully.

this was nothing new for you to partake in. with each new realization from louis as he experienced your world with naive eyes, it made you head buzz from the thrill of it all. you leaned away from him long enough to snag a floating flute from the hovering attendant. it wasn’t as strong as what you’d knocked down prior but hopefully it would be enough to ease some of the tension from his shoulders.

nibbling at the exposed tuffs of his ears, you prompted him to drink. seemingly grateful for the distraction the male downed the champagne without a second thought.

he really was such a bundle of nerves.

ignoring his startled grapple at your sides, you lifted a leg over his lap and settled on top of him. your body didn’t offer much of a shield, but your weight was enough of a diversion.

by partaking in the drink, he’d solved the mystery of where the mouthpiece of his mask for you. with confidence, you were able to tilt up his head and slot your mouths together. he resists at first, the protest only give you the opening to slide your tongue between his lips.

you moan eagerly and vocally, utilizing your own sounds to drown out the commotion behind you. you capture his bottom lips between your teeth, swallowing the sweet taste of his gasp as you test him by grinding softly. the pinch of his fingers don’t go unnoticed but he doesn’t try to stop it either.

breaking away with a harsh pant of your own, you make a slow effort of loosening the buttons of his jacket, giving him every opportunity to escape the proposition.

“this is why i brought you here, lou.”

his grip at your hips pulsed like a heartbeat, fluctuating in intensity as he traded glances between you and the moving bodies around you. it generally only took one couple to take the plunge for the others to follow suit.

the wide room was starting to truly burst with life, coating the walls with a lustful aura. masks of all shapes and sizes engaging in causal conversation while observing the unhurried fucking of others as if in a pristine museum.

you let him keep the jacket on to give him some sort of protection, still mindful of his frazzled psych as you left chaste kisses along his neck.

“what? so i’d fuck you in public?” learning from his dramatic prose on stage, louis seemed to be snatching at all of his talents to compose himself. you snatched yet another flute of something more colorful this time, tipping against his lips without warning to bring his attention back to your small corner.

“not that . if you pay attention, you’d see they aren’t unlike us.”

latching your lips back to his throat, you mouthed your words as the glass trembled against his.

“see that ox and flamingo over there? the first is a mountain goat, i can’t pinpoint the species but i recognize the stance. and the pretty little thing he has bent over the banister, a lynx- see, there’s her cute little tail wagging.” your nose traces his jaw. “herbivores and carnivores sharing heated passion without ostracization. it’s not just a kink, louis, it’s a lifestyle.”

you can see the moment the clarity parts the clouds of his cognition. gone is the speculation as he comes to terms with the hidden intentions of your invitation. it was rare that you did anything subtly with him, he often having ot maintain propriety.

there were obviously other factors staked against either of you going public with your relationship, the most prominent lighting a slow spark toward the eventual dissolution of your arrangement. but he had never really thought past his own adoration of you. by now it was beyond the scope of just the sexual nature/ yet without positive societal examples,, he was often left scrambling with labeling his feelings.

while this-gathering to say the least- wasn’t the best example to base his own experiences on as he took it all in, it wasn’t hard to see where the stark black and white began to blur.

leave it to you to utilize the most extreme to make a point.

louis surprised you then by breaking his inner monologue and fitting his hand against the smooth column of your throat. his hold much more self-assured than before. the gradual change shot straight to your core as you wriggled.

“but you didn’t answer me.” the hold pulls your mouth away as he forcefully captures your attention this time. there is no doubt that most of his valor is a product of the mask, no different than the one he wears on stage. but your relative appreciate drew together more likeness between the two than you were willing to admit. louis always put so much effort in commanding an audience that he rarely was able to admire how effortlessly he was able to do so with you.

“a lot a pretty words when the truth of it all was just that you wanted to bring me here to make a show out of yourself.” louis felt his own arousal spike as the truth of the statement struck him as well. “you want them all to see how much you love to take it from a herbivore.”

you answer with a hasty nod, breathing hitching under the restraint you’d functioned with until now. “please, lou. dominate me.”

it doesn’t take you long to adopt your shameless nature, hips undulating and grinding your core against his swelling erection. you still try to appeal to louis more kept disposition though, sliding close and sliding your hand between the gap to rub friction circles against the junction of his pants.

unable to resist teasing, you press the pad of your thumb against the tented head. “what a bad boy you’re being lou lou too. and you always accuse me of being the dirty slut.”

despite the natural restriction of his vocals, louis manages to growl, a flash of ire behind the mask. you arch as his hand wiggles under your dress, easily finishing your soiled undergarments and tucking them to the side. he slides two fingers home to the third knuckle without preamble.

“look at you, you’re even wetter than when we’re at home. you say this was for me, but look how shameless you are.” he starts to pump them in and out slowly, and you answer with a voluntary roll of your hips. he was right. you were desperate for him but the hardly changed given the setting or audience.

squeezing his shoulder for balance, you melt into a purring moan as his fingers curl within your depths. it takes more effort than it should to break your own trace to escape the pleasure enough to fumble with his zipper. louis exhales a long shuddering breath as your fingers close around him. you’re both ready without the threat of prematurity, riding on the exhilaration of the environment.

a shuddering sigh shatters the tension building within your throat as he replaces his fingers with his cock, dragging you down to take every inch of him until you’re sitting at the base. he doesn’t even reprimand you when you instinctively reach for his antlers, the thin paper crinkling under your touch as rotate you himself to ride the stuff arousal.

you were vaguely aware of your small circle being encroached on by observing parties. more grateful than anything that louis appeared to be more focused on you than their presence- a choked gasp scrambled from your lips as he brought you down in forceful thrust, a keen whine following.

when you tried to find his gaze, you found that it wasn’t even on you. the glassy haze flickering behind you around the room, holding a lazy challenge to any and every figure. it fed into the thrill to know he was getting off on the audience as much as you were.

louis pace was sloppy, but expected given the mixed influence of alcohol, your body and room around him. it all came together in the thickest mixture of lust either of you had had the privilege of sharing.

“you’re so beautiful. the world deserves to see you like this.”

a hasty nod of agreement is all you can manage, because the weight of his grounding hips and pounding thrusts are tearing away your grip on reality. you feel a piece of the mache tear away with your claws as you shudder around the drag of his cock as it sends you spiraling into release.

louis rides your aftershocks, succumbing to your quaking thighs and fluttering walls as you both collapse beneath the weight of your combined climax.

you fall forward against his chest, hiding all evidence of your joining as you soak in the thick musk. around you bodies shift again, their muttered compliment sticking to your body as they transition to the next showing. the two of you stay like that for a long moment, rising off the expansion of the others chest as you slowly collect yourselves.

curling your face into the side of his neck, you lapped gently, snickering when he twitched you’re life within your depths. pressing a kiss there you eventually manage to prop yourself up again.

“well the night’s still young and i see you’re up for another round. let’s give them their moneys worth.”

#beastars x reader #louis beastars x reader #beastars headcanon #beastars imagines

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

When the Queen Becomes the King

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x FtM Trans Reader

Word Count: 2,092

Warnings; Depression and gender dysphoria, mentions of cancer, Maxwell cries, but a very fluffy ending.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

Trans reader having trouble with the whole identity shit and needs a change ASAP, so Max decides to give him the full Maxwell beauty treatment. Yes I am projecting again.

Maxwell always told you he loved the night. It was dark and comforting, an ever present blanket that wrapped him up and helped him sleep.

You were quite the opposite. The night was a horror show to you, filled with demons and silence.

Rolling over in the bed you shared with your boyfriend, you sighed, gazing out the floor to ceiling windows, at the bustling DC midnight. If New York was the city that never slept, then DC was the city that ran on two hours of sleep and eight cups of coffee. The only time you could imagine it ever being quiet and dark was around 2 AM.

2 AM, which was slowly approaching. Maxwell slept beside you, lightly snoring. It wasn’t him keeping you awake, oh no. It was your own head. Horrible thoughts and even worse confessions, until you no longer felt like yourself.

Truthfully, you hadn’t ever really felt like yourself, but that wasn’t a concern until the lights went out.

Sighing as you watched a helicopter in the distance, you tried to imagine a different life for yourself. You were still dating Maxwell, of course. He was a constant, no matter what you imagined. But instead of laying beside him in a soft nightgown, you were wearing sleep pants similar to his, with two sets of men’s clothes in the closet instead of his suits and your dresses. You were different in your imagination, all flat chest and strong arms, a better jaw and less softness to your face. Maxwell always complimented you when you stood displeased in front of the mirror, but his reassurance that you looked amazing only made you feel worse.

Wiping away tears, you realized DC had gotten quieter as midnight came and went. The quiet filled you, making your thoughts loud. Too loud.

Slipping out of bed, you walked as quietly as possible to the bathroom. For as much as he slept, Maxwell was a very light sleeper. You shut the bathroom door slowly and as soon as it was shut, you collapsed, feeling the cold tile press into your skin. It was a shock, but a welcome one. Through the thinness of your nightgown, you could feel each groove in the tile, rolling onto your back to stare up at the ceiling. In here, the air conditioning was louder, the gentle hum washing over your thoughts and taking them away, like the ocean reclaiming a seashell from the shore.

The bathroom light flickered, meaning Maxwell had probably noticed you were missing from the bed and turned on the bedside lamp.

Sitting up, you began to fabricate your lie, that you’d felt sick and wanted to make sure you didn’t throw up in the bed. Maxwell would believe that. He always did.

Grabbing the bathroom counter to haul yourself to standing, your hand hit something. Staring down, you took in the innocent sight of Maxwell’s razor.

Taking a breath, you moved your trembling hand. He had a habit of not putting stuff away when he was tired, and this was no exception.

“Doll?” Maxwell’s late night rasp shocked you so much you jumped. “Are you okay?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out. The shuffling sound of Maxwell getting out of bed alerted you, but you couldn’t do anything about it. All you could do was shake.

“Doll,” Maxwell said again, opening the door and squinting in the light. “What are you-“ he cut off at the image of you, terrified, filled his eyes. “Doll, is that my razor?”

Tearing your gaze from him, you looked down at your hand, which did, in fact, have a death grip on the razor.

Maxwell carefully wrapped his hand around yours, trying to ease your grip. “Doll. What’s wrong?”

You still couldn’t speak, choking on your words as you collapsed into Maxwell’s chest, body heaving with sobs.

“Oh doll,” Maxwell murmured, wrapping you in a hug and carrying you to the bed. “Doll, are you feeling ill?”

You shook your head.

“Is it something mental?”

You nodded, and Maxwell immediately lay you on the duvet and cuddled you to his chest, you still in his lap. “It’s okay, doll. I’m here.”

“It’s not okay,” you sobbed out, cold hands pressing to Maxwell’s bare sides. “Nothing is okay!”

Maxwell stroked your hair. “It will be one day,” he promised. “One day, it will all be okay.”

“Max,” you rasped, pulling away so you could meet his eyes. “Max, I’m sick.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Maxwell immediately began to cry just as hard as you, securing you in a solid hug. You were surprised until you remembered he’d lost almost half his family to cancer. Telling him you were sick meant, in his mind, you were dying.

“Max,” you said, still crying. “Max, I’m fine. I’m not, Max, I’m okay.”

Maxwell clutched your nightgown tighter. “I can’t lose you,” he gasped, you feeling his chest heave. “Not you.”

“Maxwell, I’m a boy!” You all but yelled, grabbing his face and making him look at you. His eyes went wide, hands taking yours. “I’m a boy,” you breathed, wiping away Maxwell’s tears.

“That’s it?” Maxwell asked, looking you up and down. “That’s it? That’s all? Promise?”

You nodded. “I promise. That’s all. Not dying.”

“But still sick?”

Another nod. “Still sick. My brain is sick, like yours.”

Maxwell took a breath. He’d been diagnosed with childhood PTSD, and he hated it. “Just like mine?”

“No,” you amended. “But close. My brain isn’t the same as my body. My brain is male, but my body is female.”

Maxwell nodded. “So, you’re not my queen. You’re my king.”

Smiling, you stroked his face, wiping away the final tears. “Yeah, your king.”

The next day, after a night of simply holding each other and staying awake in each other’s arms, Maxwell insisted on canceling every meeting he had. He told everyone over the phone that you weren’t feeling well and he was going to take the day off to care for you.

Taking care of you apparently meant cuddling you for the better part of the morning, occasionally murmuring compliments that made you blush. When he finally did manage to get you out of bed, he rummaged through his closet until he found an old pair of pyjamas for you to wear. They were worn out and a bit too big, but they were distinctly not women's clothes.

“We can find something for your chest later today,” Maxwell promised, admiring you despite the fact that it was just pyjamas. “And your hair.”

“Oh.” You reached a hand up on instinct, touching your hair. “Actually, can you do it?”

Maxwell’s face scrunched. “Are you sure? My stylist can definitely do a better job than I can.”

You nodded, turning from the mirror to face Maxwell. “I’m sure.”

Despite what was about to be a bathroom hack job, Maxwell insisted on trying to give you, in his words, ‘a quality experience.’ He dragged one of your barstools into the bathroom, set yesterday’s newspaper on the floor to make cleaning easier, and even refused to use the kitchen shears. You simply watched, laughing as Maxwell passed you with the stool. “Do you want help?”

“Nope!” Max said cheerily. “Today is about you, so I’m going to do all the heavy lifting!”

“Literally,” you added, smiling as he put the stool down and rubbed his back. “Do you still love me?”

Maxwell straightened, clearly confused. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m a boy,” you said softly. “And that would make you, y’know,”

“Gay?” Maxwell took your hands and kissed each of your palms, resting them on his cheeks when he was finished. “I don’t care who you are. I love you no matter what. You’re always going to be caring and handsome and perfect, and I will always, always love you.”

You smiled, trying to get rid of the tears in your eyes. “I love you Max.”

“I love you more my king.”

You laughed, burying your face in his shoulder. “Oh, I’m never going to escape that, am I?”

“Nope!” Maxwell said cheerily, scooping you up and placing you on the stool. “Now, my king,” he said, putting one of his old towels over your shoulders. “How do I do this?”

“Well,” you said slowly, handing him the scissors. “The bulk has to go. Before we do anything.”

Maxwell nodded, running his hands through your hair one last time before gathering it in a hair tie. “Ready?”

“Maxwell, darling, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.” Truth be told, you were gripping the edge of the stool so tight that your knuckles had gone white. “Just do it.”

Taking a deep breath, Maxwell sunk the scissors just above the hair tie, face scrunching as he worked. Within a minute, he was gingerly placing the severed hair down on the counter, as cautious as if he was holding a removed arm. “Well. Now that that’s done. What now?”

You opened your eyes. Hair, choppy and highly uneven, framed your jaw. It was a start, and you could feel Maxwell sifting his hands through your hair. You vaguely heard a joke about a mullet, and then he began to gauge length, humming to himself.

“Max,” you said, so softly he probably didn’t even hear you. “Max.”

“Hm? Have you decided on a style? I was just thinking we could do something like mine.”

You shook your head, reaching for Maxwell’s razor that he still hadn’t put away. “Babe,” he said warningly. “What are you doing?”

Before he could stop you or even get another word out, you turned the razor on and in one swift movement, shoved it down the center of your skull, sending a cascade of hair down your shoulders.

“Babe!” Maxwell shouted, but you just handed him the razor and took a stiff breath.

“Your turn,” you said, never tearing your eyes from the mirror.

Maxwell was a lot more hesitant than you had been, but he did as you asked. Cradling your head with one hand, he continued what you’d started, taking surprisingly expert care of you. When he finished, he stepped back, turning the razor off and nodding. “Happy?”

You turned to face him, meeting his eyes. “Yes,” you said, voice no higher than a whisper. “Max, darling, I’m finally myself.”

Maxwell smiled, holding your hands and helping you down off the stool. “Why don’t we shower,” he suggested. “I’ll find you something to wear, and then we can go out shopping, okay?”

It was a good plan. Maxwell turned the shower on, leaving you to bathe so he could pull clothes.

“Try these,” he said, handing you your tightest sports bra and his boxers. You did, smiling as he passed you a shirt and pants. He’d outgrown them years ago, before he’d met you, but kept them for sentiment. Now, they fit you well, and you turned in a circle to see the outfit from all angles.

“Shall we?” Maxwell asked once he was also dressed, holding an arm out to you.

You laughed. “We shall,” you said, linking arms with him and following him out into the DC summer.

It was odd, shopping for men’s clothes. Maxwell was insistent upon getting you a nice suit for events, and you followed him easily. Somehow, he knew all the safe shops, the ones where they accepted people like you.

“And would you like to try a binding bra?” The woman who was helping you asked.

You nodded. “Yes please.”

She grabbed the appropriately sized bra and helped you in it. “That man of yours, he’s very supportive. You better keep him around, or someone else will snatch him up.”

Smiling, you remembered Maxwell’s seemingly instant acceptance of you. “I don’t think him leaving will be a problem,” you said softly, admiring the suit you were in. “This is nice.”

“Why don’t you go show your boyfriend,” the woman said, and you did.

All throughout the day, Maxwell was happy by your side, even when people jeered and a reporter asked him how he felt dating a man. He simply shoved them off and said you and him were as happy as ever.

And as you snuggled down into bed that night, lulled by the never ending bustle of the DC skyline, you realized that he was right. Tucked up under Maxwell’s arm, wearing his pyjama bottoms and no shirt, the soft stubble of your hair tickling his skin, you had never been happier.

#wonder woman 1984 #ww84 #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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charlieliqueur · 4 years

Text

Mark X Camper!Reader (Unus Annus)

Camp Days - Part One

Summary/Warnings: Unus Annus spoilers? Takes place during Camp Unus Annus, includes some of Camp Unus Annus fan stuff like the camp cabins and etc, and some of my own variations. Reader is 18+ years old, and part of cabin Taser Fire, since it seems decreed that Mark is the head counselor for that cabin. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, go to the Camp Unus Annus posts and you'll find the stuff pretty quick.

---

You didn't remember signing up for this camp. Probably because you didn't, you couldn't have. Oddly enough, you barely remember anything before waking up on a bus, a bag packed and other 'campers' waiting to arrive. This felt off, the bus ride, the look of it, how isolated and almost abandoned it felt. It had all the wrong feelings.

But you were still here. Almost immediately after stepping off the bus a blond man and brunette woman held out stacks of shirts. One stack white, one black. You carefully picked one, and the woman kindly said "Welcome campers! This isn't our official welcome, but we wanted to make sure you had a uniform for initiation! I'm one of the counselors here, my name is Amy! And this is Evan!" They both waved happily.

What were you doing at a summer camp again?

Why would you be here-

Suddenly you all were being ushered away to a grassy clearing with a bonfire pit. Near a roaring fire were two men, wearing semi-matching black and white clothes. One in white, one in black. They turned towards the group of several, beyond several, dozen campers of varying ages, looks, and personalities.

"Welcome to your first day of Camp Unus Annus! In just a few moments you'll be directed to your cabin!" Said the short haired one. The longer haired man said "Don't forget, Camp Unus Annus and officials are not responsible for any harm or death caused here."

"Death??" Asked a few, they also seemed to have no idea how they ended up here.

"Um, excuse me, but I don't remember signing up for this camp," said one girl.

"Me neither!"

"I don't remember too!"

"Uh, me either!"

They two men looked at one another and began laughing. It seemed almost fake. They looked back at the group of confused people. "Of course you didn't sign up, that's not how Camp works here. Now come on! And-" the man in the white shirt looked to the man in black and they said in unison looking over the group, "Don't forget the Buddy System!!"

---

You had been sorted to your cabin. You stood among a group of confused and concerned campers, as they tried to find buddies before your counselor arrived. You got paired up with a man named Gerald, mainly because he had no one else and seemed distant enough not to bother you too much. Though he seemed a little incompetent.

You all looked at the still-packed collection of supplies, when suddenly a rushing of footsteps and a loud voice boomed, "Heeeeey campeeers!!"

You all looked to see Mark. He adjusted his white shirt briefly before smiling and saying "I bet you're all thrilled to be here, and-- What's this? You don't have your tents up yet?? Well hurry! Nightfall is coming soon and the bears will be out, and the bats, and deer, and snakes-- Just, chop chop!"

The group looked among each other hesitantly. "B-Bears?" Asked a girl.

"Yeah!! And not just the animals. Bear Cabin is... well, we won't talk about them."

"Aren't you betraying the buddy system?" Asked a young man. He seemed rather upset. Probably didn't like being at a summer camp he didn't sign up for. Neither did you.

"Yeah, you've broken your own rule!" Added another boy, the first one's buddy.

"Do you wanna talk to me about rules or do you wanna listen and live??" Mark demanded strongly. Most of the younger teens immediately started opening the tent bags, pulling out the plastic structures and beginning to set them up. Gerald and yourself began setting up your tent as well. The older group members glared and hesitated, before joining in as well.

Soon tents were set up, and as Counselor Mark was inspecting them, a large portion of Taser Fire gathered around a fire pit. "What are we supposed to do?" Asked one boy, his name was Daniel. "What do you mean?" Asked Lizzy, a twenty-something girl.

"Like, the fuck are we supposed to do?? Just play along to this summer camp BS? Hasn't anyone realized we've been kidnapped??"

"Speak for yourselves," said Mickey, a thirteen year old boy. "My home fuckin' sucks, I'd rather be here getting covered in mosquito bites than have another drunk fight with my dad," he said openly. It seemed he felt safe here. What was this place doing to you all? Some now anxious, some now comfortable? And what were you feeling?

"Okay campers, it seems dusk has begun. Why don't we get a fire started for a little meal before night, eh?" Asked Mark, gesturing with an open smile. You all looked around at each other and sheepishly nodded. He gave off vibes. Vibes you weren't sure how to feel about.

"And tomorrow, we start the fun!" He assured, before gathering some wood from a pile and making a firepit. You yawned and looked around. "Hey, where's Gerald?" You asked, when suddenly the man stepped beside you, zipping his fly. "Sorry, just stepped away to-"

Suddenly Mark seized him by the collar of his shirt. "Remember... the buddy system. Nobody leaves the group without their buddy!! Understood??" This was directed at the whole group, who nervously agreed, fearing what their counselor would do if they disobeyed. You stumbled back a bit from the muscles man who practically held your buddy a foot off the ground. He lowered Gerald to the ground and stepped away, refocusing on his fire.

It started up in no time, and the campers gathered around it. You looked off into the distance and could see a few other distant lights. Fires or lanterns. There were five cabins in total.

Thicc Water, near the lake.

Breaking Wind, in a clearing.

Earth Girth, near a river.

The Bears, near a cave system.

Taser Fire, on a rocky area near the forest.

You were studying a map that had come with the supplies. Your fingers traced paths and memorized some bigger details. This place felt off, and you wanted to know where to go if you needed to run somewhere. Either away from something... or someone...

Your nervous eyes glanced up at Counselor Mark, a guitar in his hands while he strummed a tune and hummed a song no one knew. He gave off an ill aura. Ted Bundy mixed with Jigsaw and maybe a cult leader or two. Suddenly Counselor Mark saw you watching, and after your eyes met briefly, you looked back down at the map.

"So tell me all your names," he requested, and you looked up with only your eyes, to see his looking across everyone.

People answered, some more reluctant than others. What worried you most is how some who had been very upset being here were suddenly laughing and sharing past stories and tales. Once more that feeling hit you, a feeling it seemed only a few others realized. This place, these people, it was wrong. At least... at least Mark was...

---

You were lying awake in your tent, your buddy Gerald asleep beside you. He wasn't exceedingly friendly, or strong, or smart, but least he didn't snore. You were propped on your arm, a zippo lighter in your hands, lit to provide enough light to read the map. Then you noticed something in the corner. You brought the lighter closer, and it revealed words, full National Treasure style.

Near the logs whom fell, find the stories they tell. A land of old, of death and cold...

What... the... fuck? What was this about?

You suddenly heard footsteps. You clicked the lighter shut, stuffed the map under your bag, and pulled the covers of the sleeping bag over your head. You were nearly silent, but not suspiciously so. You heard them get close to the tent, and heard whispering, but you couldn't identify who.

"Such a shame..."

"Can't follow the rules, can't stay in camp..."

"It is day one, Annus, give them time."

"Life is not fair, nor is death. Time will march ever forward, my friend. Lessons must be learnt in the time they have. Momento Mori."

"Yes, that is true... which tent was it?"

"This way..."

You covered your mouth, hoping they couldn't hear your ragged and terrified breaths. You listened to the footsteps leave. It took you hours to fall asleep, and even then you were plagued by nightmares. Of two men, one in a white suit, one in black, they were familiar but you couldn't place them, their faces just out of sight.

---

"UNUS ANNUS! UNUS ANNUS! UNUS ANNUS!" A chant erupted through a speaker system you hadn't noticed existed, the sound of distorted male voices. You sprung upright, hearing someone rustle the tents and say "Time to get up campers!"

Counselor Mark.

You groaned, and suddenly went still, remembering last night. You waited for Gerald to step out so you could change. You left the tent as well, seeing a fire already started. A majority of the group was gathered round, laughing and joking and making food.

"Where's Jake?" Asked a voice, one that sounded pained and scared.

"Who?" Asked one girl.

"JAKE!" Said the boy, as if we should know. But you did, you actually remembered. Jake and this boy were the two who pointed out Mark breaking the rules. Mark simply laughed it off and said "Jake has been removed from Camp Unus Annus, should've followed the rules. Now, who wants bacon??"

"Me!!" Cheered some, holding out their plates. You stuck farther back, pulling your map from your pocket. You saw a circle appeared around a spot on the map. You couldn't leave alone. Buddy System. Didn't wanna end up like Jake...

"Hey Gerald?"

"Yeah?"

"We're going somewhere, come on."

"But what about-"

"You'll live. Besides, that bacon seems... off..."

"What do you-"

"Just shut up and follow."

"Okaaaay."

He followed you as the both of you headed towards the marking on the map. "Gonna let me know what this is about?" He asked, walking lazily, not even concerned on wild animals in the woods or poisonous plants and crazy counselors.

You yawned deeply, restless from last night's sleep. You didn't have a lot of time. Then you saw it. Stuck under a log that seemed like it had fallen decades ago, poking out, was a journal. "Help me move this," you demanded of you buddy, trying to force the log to roll.

"Y/n, you sure? It's all damp and rotted, there might be like slugs or-"

"Dammit Gerald push the log!!"

He whined again before pushing against it with you, and it rolled over enough for you to kick the journal free.

"All this way for a notebook? Pfft..."

"Yeah, a notebook. One you won't mention or you'll have more than just Mark to worry about," you warned darkly.

What was wrong with you? Would you normally say that? Yes, no? You couldn't remember. There had to be something about this place. A toxic material waste, brain fucking everyone.

Gerald hesitantly agreed to secrecy, then began his journey back, you following close behind.

"Hey, look, Taser Bitches!" Shouted an unfamiliar voice. You both looked around, before seeing a small group of kids, wearing matching bandanas. Thicc Water.

"Alright guys, pelt 'em!!!" Shouted someone, and they raised water balloons.

"What the fuc-??"

You urged Gerald to run and you both began sprinting, water balloons crashing and splatting all around you, the water seemed oddly thicc.

However you escaped with your lives, and luckily it seemed counselor Mark was gone. Good. You pulled the journal out in front of you and read the first entry.

I don't know what day it is. Not what they say. They think today is tomorrow and is also yesterday. I've been here weeks and they're saying day three. This place is wrong, so fucking wrong. But I can't leave. My buddy started the idea of cabins. He seems to be leaving me. I can't escape without help...

You entered your tent and exhaled shakily. You took a seat on the polyurethane floor. Was this from the beginning of the camp? It had to be a while ago, these cabins and all had been here for a long time, the signs and everything super old. Like, decades old. That's when what you read next horrified you.

Counselor Mark and Ethan are up to something. Kids keep going missing and it's only ones in their cabins. I have to get the fuck out of here...

How old are they? What the fuck was this?? Was this real, what did this even mean, that Counselor Mark and Ethan are-

Suddenly there was a rustling on the tent, like knocking, and a scary familiar voice asked "Hey y/n right?"

To be Continued...

A/N: Woo!! I hope to finish this story, or at least get a good few parts out. What's going on? Spoooooky. Anyways, things will obviously get more dramatic as it continues. Hope you enjoyed!

#markiplier #unus annus #crankgameplays #ethan nestor #mark fischbach #amy nelson #camp unus annus #markiplier x reader #annus x reader #unus #annus #fanfic #fanfiction #camp unus annus fic

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comingtothetree23 · 4 years

Text

Things Change

Paring: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Everyone thought you were gone but Peter saw you and he doesn’t want to lose you again.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: Angst, Swearing.

A/N: I got this Idea from Teen Titans “Things Change”. Hope I did it justice!

"C'mon, Pete! It's gonna start soon!" You yelled with a smile as you tugged Peter through the crowd at the canvas, "Well, not start but more open!" Peter laughed as you two go into the line.

"You sure you can handle it?" Peter teases as he nudges your arm, You rolled your eyes with a smile. You two were going on a rollercoaster.

"Next!"

"That's us! That's us!" You smiled as you ran up to get some seats, Peter giggled as he followed behind you. When he sat down you took his hand and bounced in your seat, "This is gonna be amazing! I'm kinda nervous though."

"Nah, You'll be fine." Peter waved it away, "If anything happens you'll just turn invisible." he shrugged at you, "Don't know how they'll help."

"Yea, That's funny." You rolled your eyes before looking ahead with confusion, "I can't turn invisible. Do you hear th-AHHH!" The coster flew forward making the people around you scream.

As you scream you cling to Peter, making him grin a dorky smile. He looked down at you before laughing and raising his arms, making you yell at him.

That was one of his favorite memories with you...

"C'mon, man That isn't nice!" peter yelled, clad in his Spider-Suit. He tried webbing down the man's legs but he cut it with a knife. The hostages around him shudder in fear.

"Get away from me!" The man yelled swinging his knife around. He looked around crazily until he yelled up a teenage girl, he held the knife up to her neck, "Leave now and she'll live."

Peter looked over at the girl and gasps, It-It was you! It had to be, it was the same hair color, eye color, skin color, the only difference was the hairstyle and clothes. They were the kinda clothes you couldn't be caught dead wearing. The hair was the same length but in a style that you always complained about.

"P-please let me go..." You whimpered, scratching at his arms but was the only thing you weren't scared to do. Peter frowned as he looked at you, the same voice too.

"Don't talk!" He shook you roughly making you yelp, You looked over at Peter with tears in your eyes. Peter frowned from behind the mask and webbed your hand before pulling it toward him. When you slammed into Peter's chest he gently pushed you behind him and went to fight the guy again.

Peter won the fight, obviously. When he turned around the face you....you were gone, nowhere to be seen.

Peter loved hanging out with you, but he remembered the day everything went to shit.

"(Y/n), What are you doing!?" Peter asked as he dodged your hits, You were wearing a weird suit with an earpiece in your ear, "Mr. Stark I found (Y/n)!"

"You did? Kid, where is she?" Tony's voice rang back through Peter's comm.

"She's in th-" Peter felt your hand take his comm, Peter watched as you dropped it on the ground and stomped on it. He looked up at you and almost flinched at the icy glare you went him.

"No more help, Spidey-Boi." You smirked as you walked over to Peter. You put a hand on your comm as you speak into it, "Hey Sir? I got the Spider?"

"Good job, (Y/n). Finish him, I'll take care of the others." A male's dark voice rang through your comm, Thankfully Peter heard it because of his Super-Hearing.

"Finish him?" You ask back, looking taken aback, "Sir, He can be helpful. He can be studied! We can't ju-"

"Silence!" The male's voice boomed making you flinch at his harshed tone, "You will follow my orders! Finish the spider and when you're done do something useful! You know what will happen if you fail an order."

"(Y/n)! (Y/n)! " Peter quickly took off his mask making you stare at his big brown eyes, "Y-You don't have to do this! You can come back with me and the avengers, Your family. I know you don't want to do this..." You stared at his face with a look of no emotion.

"On it, sir," you said into the eye with your eyes closed tight. Your fist was clenching so hard your knuckles were white. You opened your eyes and started walking toward him.

"I love you..." Peter mumbled, That made your eyes widen and stare at him. Peter looked up at you and saw you were looking at the ground, not knowing what to do, "I-I love you so much, ever since we met. I've always been too scared to tel you b-because I didn't want to ruin our friendship...turned out that was the wrong choice. I'm sorry, (Y/n)."

"Sir." Your voice mumbled out, making Peter look at you not knowing what you'll do, "Go fuck yourself." You took off the comm and stoped on it as you did with his. You look over at Peter as he gave you a hopeful smile, You slide over and cupped his face giving him a million of kisses, "I am so sorry! I-I He-he cornered me then everything blacked out! I'm so sorry." You gave each of his freckles a lil old kiss.

"It's fine, The Avengers will forgive you." He gently took both of your hands and smiled at you, "We'll go back home and everything will go back to normal." He put his forehead on yours with a small smile, You stared at him before the tears forming in your eyes.

"I'd like that." You smiled as you sniffled a little. You and Peter stood up and went to run but before going out the door your knees buckled making you fall.

"(Y/n)?"

"She'll be fine, Spider." Peter quickly put on his mask before the man from earlier could see. He turned and face a tall muscular man, "She just needs to listen. Rise." You let out a whimper as you slowly stand up, "good girl." the unnamed man smirks, making Peter clench his fist.

"What are you doing to her!?" Peter yelled, unable to control this anger much longer. You've been acting weird for months and Peter wanted you back to normal.

"What I've doing the whole time." The man smirks before making a fist, "Controlling her." That made you gasp and walk over to Peter, your face full of pain.

"(Y-Y/n) you have to fight him because I'm not fighting you anymore." Peter jumped on the ceiling as you swung a fist at him. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

"Aww, how sweet." the man said in a mocking voice, "Hear that, (Y/n)? He cares about you." The man shook you a little as you shut your eyes, trying not to give up, "Finish your orders."

"S-Spidey?" Your voice spoke up in a whisper only Peter would have been able to hear, "I-I'm sorry." you closed your eyes as you gave up.

"No (Y/n), You can't give up. You have to fight him!" You encouraged as he jumped behind you, making you turn toward him ready to punch him.

"I can't he's too strong." You whispered with tears rolling down your cheeks, "He's been using me for months, and no matter how hard I fight... He always wins." You sent a punch Peter's way, which he easily caught.

"But you're strong too, Look at you did before-"

"I'm an intern!"

"- A strong intern that became friends with the Avengers, How cool is that!?" He smiled under the mask as you let out a small giggle at him.

"Pretty cool."

"And you're cool! Cool and able to take down this generic villain." He leans closer to you and gave your cheek a kiss forgetting the mask is on, "You got this."

"(Y/n), What are you waiting for!? Finish him!" He yelled as the place shook, you looked up and saw a crack forming in the building. This building sucks it was about to break. You looked at Peter before moving your eyes up at the crack, which Peter quickly got.

"Ohhh." Peter smirked as he shot up at the ceiling, "You keep fighting, (N/n). I got this!" You gave a weak smile as he kicked the cracked roof. You closed your eyes and tried to take control of your limbs again.

"(Y/n)! Stop this! You know your place!" The man roars, outraged at the face you stopped moving, showing you that it's working.

"Sorry 'Sir', there's been a change of plans." You smirked as a piece of the ceiling fell by the man, "I got to go." You smirk as you raise one arm, Peter swung down and picked you up, getting ready to leave.

"You're so dramatic, I swear," Peter smirked as he saw your offended look.

"Your talking? Really?" You frowned as you two were getting pulled down, you looked and saw that the man held Peter's foot and growled at you. You frown as you saw Lava, god you forgot the lava!?

"You're not getting away that easy!" The man growled making you roll your eyes before you noticed how close he was to the lava. There was one thing you could do.

"I got a plan." You whispered to Peter, making him look at you, "You're not going to like it."

"(Y/n)? What are you talking about?" Peter asked with a tilt of his head and fear in his voice. He and the other spent a week researching and looking for you and he wasn't leaving without you.

"Just know one thing." You gently cupped both of his cheeks, raising the mask to his nose, "I love you so much." You pull him into a proper kiss on the lips, which you adored! It was amazing you felt the fireworks go off in your head. When you pulled away you whispered, "And I'm sorry, for all that I've done."

You ripped out of Peter's grip and tackled the man in the Lava, Making him scream in pain.

"(Y/N)!!" Peter yelled as his web flung him away, You two made eye contact one last time. Your eyes were filled with tears, so was his but he didn't care he needed to find you.

All that was left of you was a statue of you tackling the man.

"I know! I know it's been a while." Peter chuckled humorlessly as he walked over to the statue of you, "I must be seeing things because I thought I saw you today. It was a hostage situation you know how they go, man uses one as a way out but the girl looked so much like you....it was crazy." He sat down at the edge and tried leaving against you but fell back. Weird. He looked behind him and gasped.

Your part of the statue was gone!

Peter started running, running to the tower, running to the Avengers. They needed to know this-this miracle!

You were back!

"I got it this time." Peter smiled as he watched you threw a grape into the air and caught it in your mouth. Your raise your arms In the air in victory, "Got it!"

"Yea, That would have been better if that was your first time," Peter said as he looked around the room, Tony was going to kill you two for the mess. All the grapes that were wasted.

"I'm sorry I'm not as good as you, Mr. Sticky-Boi." You crossed your arms with a smirk.

"Spider-Man!"

"Yea, Yea, Yea I know." You smiled as you went to sit next to him, "You're just cute when your annoyed." You smile as you grabbed the TV remote.

"You think I'm cute?" Peter blushed as he pointed to himself. Peter had a crush on you since forever!

"Have you seen yourself, Pete?" You asked as you ate a chip, "Your the cutest most adorable kid at Midtown. No scratch that, All of New York." You snuggled into Peter's side, "At least I think so, but who cares what I think." you shrug.

"I care." Peter smiled as he put an arm around your shoulder, "Who wouldn't want the option of the most beautiful, caring, smartest girl in the world." Peter smiled as your eyes connected with his.

"Do you mean it?"

"Of course I do. Would I ever lie to you?" Peter asked as You gave him a smile before snuggling further in his side. You let out a small sigh in content.

"Guys, Guys!" Peter yelled as he ran into the living room of the tower, "I found something! Something important!" Peter slide in front of the Avengers panting.

"What is it, Kid?" Tony sighed and looked up from his work to look at the kid, "What did you find that was so important that you ran over from queens?"

"I saw (Y/n)." Everyone sat up and looked at him, tension flew through the room right as the words left Peter's mouth.

"You what?" Steve asked as he stared at Peter, Steve was like a dad to you. Well, they all were your family but Steve was definitely the dad.

"I-I saw (Y/n). She was a hostage to Crazy Bill, It had to be her! It was the same hair, eyes, skin, voice! The only difference was her clothes but who knows maybe she like them no-" Peter started to ramble as he started to pace in front fo the team.

"Peter." Natasha spoke up, making him stop and look at her as she frowned, "(Y/n)'s gone. We've all saw it and we all miss her but we got to let her go."

"N-No, I saw her!"

"Kid, I know you miss her but your head is probably mixing her up with another girl." Tony frowned as he stood up, ready in case Peter breaks down.

"That's not true!" Peter yelled making all the Avengers frown softens, ".....It was her.." Peter frowned as tears go down his cheeks, even if he tried to hide them.

"Peter..."

"I'm gonna find her. I'll show you she's back." Before anyone can say anything Peter ran out of the room, out of the tower. He was going to find you, no matter how long it takes.

~~ Peter looked and looked until he saw a small school, He watched the kids as he walked past the school. His frown deepens as he looks at the time on his phone when a call came up. It was Tony, it been a few hours since the fight and no one have seen him, he ignored Tony's call. Suddenly, his Peter-Tingle went off.

"Watch out!" He heard a girl shout before he felt someone collide with his back. He fell on the ground and heard the girl stand up and pick up her papers, "I-I'm so sorry. I'm k-kinda in a rush there's a...." the girl started to ramble but Peter's eyes widen as he recognized the voice.

"(Y/n)?" He sat up and looked wide-eyed at you. You haven't stopped rambling shyly at him, That was new, "(Y/n), Is that you?"

"(Y/n)?" You looked over your shoulders before looking back at Peter, "I'm sorry, I think you're looking for someone else. Sorry." You gave a weak smile before standing up.

"Nonono!" Peter was quick to stand up and stop you from leaving him again, "(Y/n), It's me Peter. Peter Parker?" He gave you a smile. You looked at him confused before looking around.

"I don't know a Peter Parker, I actually don't know any Peter." You have a small shrug with a cropped out smile, "Sorry, I gotta go study." You tried walking past him but he grabbed your wrist before you could leave.

"Do you really not know me?" Peter asked in a small voice, avoiding eye contact making you frown at him.

"No, I don't." You tugged your arm away and walked past him, "I'm sorry. I hope you find this (Y/n) girl."

"But you're her...." Peter whispered as he watched you walk away from him. He looked at the floor before looking up determined, He's gonna help you get your memories back.

And he knows just how.

"Do you guys know how to build a bomb?" You suddenly asked the lunch table which included You, M.J., Ned and Peter. You finally got M.J. to sit with them once you guys became really good friends.

"No?"

"uh, no?"

"Yea," M.J. said without looking up from her book, of course, M.J. knew how to build a bomb she read a bunch of books. Hell, she could probably get away with murder if she wanted too.

"Great! Do you think you could build me one?" You smiled at her as she continued to read her book, "I need one done by tomorrow night."

"It'll be gone tonight."

"Thank you! Thank you!" You smiled as you hugged M.J. tight, M.J. tried to hide her smile in her book. You all noticed it tho.

"uhh, Why do you need a bomb?" Peter asked after he and Ned shared a look. This was pretty normal with you actually, you always brought up random things.

"Hawkeye will never know what hit him." You smirked as you looked at the two boys. Everyone knew you and Peter had an internship with Tony Stark. Yours was an actually internship and you became Tony's favorite intern so you hung out with the Avengers a lot.

"Oh. I thought you got over that?" Peter asked as he leaned his head against one of his hands. He already knew your beef with Hawkeye, he was there for it.

"Oh, I acted like I was over it. but in reality, I'm just acter." You smiled as you flipped your hair over your shoulder, making Peter stare at you with heart eyes.

"What!? Your planing on pranking Hawkeye!?" Ned gasped as he looked between you and Peter with wide eyes. You always forgot Ned and M.J. knew about Peter being Spider-man, "What did he do?"

"Not again."

"Oh god."

"Okay, So I was working as I listened to the TV then that Motherfucker decided to was a good idea to...." Peter smiled as he watched you ramble to Ned about the incident. He always loved listening to you.

"Oh, Hello again? Peter was it?" You asked as you saw Peter sitting at the library, a couple of days later. Peter immediately looked up and made eye contact with you.

"Hey." He said as he looked down at his cracked phone, Tony tried calling again but Peter ignored him again. Instead, he looked back at you with a smile, "What are you doing here?"

"uhh, Researching for an essay. Pretty interesting stuff." You looked up from the papers and books you were holding to point to his phone, "Shouldn't you pick that up?"

"It wasn't important." Peter quickly said not wanting you to leave again, "What is your essay about?"

"Oh, the Avengers." You stated before showing Peter a book you picked up, "Yea, I wanted to write about how people could be able to look up to them as role models." You let out a small laugh at a memory, "My teacher was so against it. He really doesn't like the Avengers but I think they're nice." You took the book back from Peter, "Anyway gotta go, Nice to see you again." You walked off to find more books.

"Wait!" Peter yelled as he reached out to you, You looked over at him shocked at his outburst, "I-I know the Avengers." He saw you raise a brow at him, "I'm one of Mr. Starks interns. I can get you in. I swear." He raises a hand at you.

"No, No. I really shouldn't." You turned your back and tried to leave.

"C'mon, it'll help with your report." Peter followed you and walked next to you, able to keep up.

"It would be a bad idea." Your gaze met the floor and Peter looked at you confused and you noticed, "I-I don't want you to get in trouble!"

"C'mon, Nothing bad will happen." He stood in front of you and held both of your shoulders giving you his adorable smile, "Trust me, Mr. Stark loves me." You look at the ground in deep thought before sighing.

"Fine, Lead the way."

"Whoa." You gasped as you looked around the living room. You took out a notebook and started to write some things down, "This place is amazing, You get to work here?" You looked over at Peter with a loom of awe.

"Y-yea, Mr. Stark likes me so I get to see the Avengers." Peter frowned as he looked around, "They should be here?" Peter started to look around a bit, making you frown.

"They aren't here?" You asked with a frown, you wanted to maybe interview one but it's a bad idea, "I thought you said they'd be here."

"They are don't worry. Their just doing something." Peter gave you a smile as you wrote another thing down, "So? Want me to put on the TV?" Peter smiled as the memories of you two cuddling while watching movies came up, making him smile.

"Nah, I don't like TV. Books are better." You said as you walked past the TV, shocking Peter.

"What? Don't you like TV? What about movies?" Peter askes as he slowly followers you around the Living room.

"Eh, Movies are fine but I personally think Books are always better." You let out a breath as you wrote another thing down, "You sure they'll be here? I have to go back sooner or later."

"Y-yea, They always come back." Peter shrugged, it wasn't a lie but it always takes a couple of hours, "You liked Tv before..." Peter mumbled but you heard him.

"What?" You asked him making him stand up straighter not expecting you to hear him, "What? No. Don't assume things, Peter. You could be wrong."

"But I'm not, I know you." Peter spoke up, walking up to you, "You like hanging outside with others and You like watching those weird TikToks and try to recreate them, you like training with the avanegrs because their all paranoid about you." Peter gently shook your from your shoulders.

"What? None of that is true! If anything it's the opposite." You slapped his hands off of his shoulders, "Peter you don't know me! Don't try acting like you do!"

"But I do know you! Only a couple of months ago we were hanging out, laughing, and joking around." Peter frowned as you started to glare at him the more he spoke.

"Peter, I don't know you!" You got out of his grip and grabbed your books, "I gotta go." your voice was icy and cold making Peter shudder.

"(Y/n), Wai-" The door slammed cut him off, he stood there watching the door in case you came back. When you didn't he fell to his knees and tried to stop the tears.

"Peter!" He heard someone yell and run over to him, "Kid, where have you been!? The teams been looking for you! You've been gone for days! Aunt- Hottie is mad at me!" It was Tony, Tony saw him and was talking to him. When Tony noticed the tears his face softens, "Peter?"

"She doesn't remember...." Peter whispered so quietly he was sure that Tony didn't hear him, but he did. Tony gave a sigh as he realized what Peter was talking about.

"I'm sorry kid but (Y/n)'s gone and she isn't coming back." Tony watched his face as more tears filled Peter's eyes, "Not who you remember at least,"

"B-but she was right there..." Peter tried to say but Tony shushes him with a small hug.

"Peter, sometimes we imagine things when we really miss them," Tony explained softly to the boy, not wanting Peter to continue this. What he needed was to let her go.

"I saw her..."

"I know kid, I know." Tony sighed as he felt Peter trying to stand up, "She's gone, Peter. You have to let her go."

"She's not. She's not gone." Peter got out of Tony's grip and ran out of the tower, looking for you. Tony sighed as he watched him leave.

"Poor kid."

"Do you think we'll hang out after high school?" Peter asked you softly, you both were sitting at the edge of a building looking at the city at night.

"What?" You asked with a small laugh, not believing what you were hearing. Your frown deepened as you saw Peter's serious face

"They say Highschool friendships don't stay, they lose touch." You sighed as you kicked your legs a little, "Do you think they'll happen to us?"

"No, that won't happen." You made a face as you looked at the stars, or tried too, "We'll stay in touch either it's through the Stark internship or social media or stuff like that." you gave a small shrug.

"Do you really think so?" Peter looked over at you as he frowned in thought, "Everyone thinks I'll go to MIT. Even if I go I don't know if I'll always stay close to the Avengers." Peter sighed and laid down, "it's just something that I worry about,"

"Well, you shouldn't."

"What?" Peter asks as he sits up, looking at your very serious face. You're always so silly and always looking for a fun time so it was weird seeing you so serious.

"You shouldn't be scared." You gave him a reassuring smile as you continued, "We always find a way to see each other now so that means we'll just have to continue doing what we're doing now."

"But we're at the same school."

"It'll be harder but we'll just have to find a way." You shrugged as you smiled at him, "We always do and we'll always continue to do."

"Are you sure?" Peter asked as he sits up and looks at you, you smile and open your arms for a hug. Peter smiled as he snuggles in your hug. You put your chin on the top of Peter's head.

"We'll always be friends, no matter what." Peter smiled as you gently rub his arm, "Don't worry."

"(Y/n)? (Y/N), Wait!" Peter yelled as he runs down the halls of your new school. Students watched as he ran closer and closer to you, who was talking to your friends. You turned around and face him with an annoyed look. The friends looked around confused before leaving you alone with Peter.

"That's not my name!" You yelled at him, Students looked at you shocked. You're the new shy girl so not everyone saw this side of you. Your anger slipped into sadness as you mumbled, "What do you want from me?" Peter frowned as you defeated and kinda scared tone of your voice.

"I just want you to remember." Peter sighed as you looked at the ground, "That's all I want. For you to remember me and your family."

"I do remember my family." You shook your head.

"Your super-hero family, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Bucky." Peter started to name off the Avengers, You looked at him like he had a third head.

"I never met the Avengers! Why do you think I met the avengers!?" You yelled out in frustration, waving your arms around. This was crazy! He didn't know anything!"

"Yes, you do! You use to talk to them for hours!" You shook your head again and turned around with crossed arms, "You have to believe me."

"Why should I believe you!?" You turned to face him and jabbed him in the chest, "You gave me no reason why I should believe you! Give me one reason why I should believe you!"

"I-I know but I'm being serious." Peter sighed as he looked at the frown, "We use to be best friends." Peter sighed as he shook his head, "Why can't things go back to the way they were?" You frowned and turn your back toward him.

"Things were never the way you remember. Now just leave me alone." You tried to leave but Peter gently took your wrist. Peter sighed and took out his phone.

"I have your number but you might not have mine." Peter tried giving you his number, "Here, take my number in case you're in trouble."

"I don't need it. I'll be fine." You frowned as you tried avoiding Peter's gaze, "What can you do if I'm in trouble anyway?" Peter opened his mouth but nothing came out he closed his mouth, "That's what I thought. Now let me go."

"(Y/n), Please listen to me..." You got out of his grip and stood in front of him.

" Things change, Peter. The girl you want me to be is just a memory." You looked toward him with a frown. Peter's phone started to ring and Peter could already tell it was Tony.

"(Y/n), please come with me." Peter begged as the phone rang, you looked at his cracked phone and saw the person calling.

"You should go now." You sighed as you stared at him, "It's probably important. I gotta go, I hope you find the girl you're looking for but I'm not her." You walked down the halls, leaving Peter to stand there before answering the call.

"Kid? Kid! Where are you!? There's a mission C'mon." Tony's voice came through the phone, Peter frowned as he watched where you left.

"I'm coming, Mr. Stark." Peter stood there for a moment before leaving the school.

'We'll always be friends, no matter what. Don't worry.'

Peter was unaware of your eyes watching him leave the building. You sighed before turning and walking into a classroom.

"It's better this way. I'm sorry, Spidey."

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker #Peter Parker x you #Peter parker x (y/n)#spiderman x reader #spiderman x avenger!reader #spiderman #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction

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itsthe-neo-zone · 4 years

Text

Married to Mr Choi - TXT series

Please read the Masterlist before continuing ahead with this chapter.

Chapter 2:

“Hurry up and fix her hair.” the clipping at my scalp wouldn't end...

“Where’s the pins? this part is slipping.” a pull here, a tug there...

“Here, let me past. I'll help with the makeup.”

“Stop, stop, stop.” I pulled my hands up waving them around carelessly. This was hopeless. I was in the same position for the past 2 hours and it was getting frustrating, I couldn’t breath without someone doting on me unnecessarily. It’s like I was told I could only live for the next 20 hours.

I stormed out of the room, not handling the heat anymore. Every chance I tried to take to talk to Wooyoung he brushed me off like I was 6 or something.

I was livid, absolutely fuming, if you could see smoke evaporating off my arms and head it would be visible from 10 meters away.

The guilt tripping and the manipulation was one thing, but it was a completely different situation if I was being sold for a half of Gangnam and a few toy arms for my brothers to play about with.

“This isn’t happening, I’m not being sold off.”

“You aren’t though.” I rolled my eyes; the lying was going to end here. I couldn’t take any more of this...

“What is this then? Hm? What do you call this?” I shoved the papers into Wooyoung’s face, the others were spread out across the salon.

They watched what was happening but didn’t respond. They weren’t about to get involved. Typical mafia behaviour.

“It’s a contract, but it has nothing to-”

“Oh really? Why's my name splodged all over it then?” I stomped my feet on the floor, Six hours to the wedding and here I am half-dressed and a complete wreck.

“Mila you need to calm down!” Seonghwa tried to break up the fight that was about to start but I was having none of it.

Deep, deep, deep, down I knew I was overreacting, and I should listen to what they have to say, but they didn’t have to know that... My dignity was being smashed and trampled on; I couldn’t stand here like a lifeless dummy any longer.

“It’s not your name written here; you’re not being sold off like boxed arms so don’t tell me to calm down!” my voice was getting louder by the second.

“Mila Sofía Tesoro, you’ll stop right this instant.” I flinched. The echo of my mother’s voice snapped against the marbled walls and came at me like a tsunami.

I felt the blood pumping fast across my body and it felt like I was buzzing, a strange vibrating feeling crawled across my skin.

Everything went silent for a short moment...

I stared at her in disbelief, she pushed me – her own daughter – into an arranged marriage based on work and business reasons for our family and she shamelessly yelled at me when I caught them in the act?

“So what if they created a deal along with your marriage? It’s what all good traders do.”

She entered calmly into the room but her eyes were a raging fire of shock, she wouldn't think me, her lovely and quiet Mila would make such an outburst...

“Its what all gangs do...” the mutter went past her but not past Wooyoung who sent a glance.

“You should be proud of your brothers, if it wasn’t for Wooyoung,” she set her hand onto his shoulder standing against me. “You wouldn’t be marrying into such a wealthy and strong family like the Choi clan.”

“What if I never wanted to marry from them? You ever thought about that?” I spat back. It was starting to hit me; I was being robbed of my freedom.

“Stop acting so oblivious. You knew this was going to happen all along, you were born with no options...

This was the plan the moment you were born.”

Thinking back, I know she was right. They didn’t keep this a secret or something that should be hidden from me, this was always bound to happen and secretly I knew that…

Her mouth a gun, the words shooting through me like a bullet, each one hitting every barrier I had put up over this topic. I tricked myself ever since the age of 4 to believe I had a choice.

She was completely right, I traced back to every memory I had locked away and buried deep in my head.

But I wasn’t ready to give up, I wasn’t ready to go down without a fight. My stubborn and absentminded self wouldn’t let me believe their hurtful and inevitable destiny for me.

I reached the elevator and decided to press any random floor, all of them seemed to have an extended balcony. I needed fresh air right now. I felt like I was suffocating.

“Your suffering now because of your headless thoughts. If you would have accepted your future this wouldn’t be your position right now.”

My nerves in the tips of my fingers weakened droppings some of the papers in my hand.

I wanted to run away and leave, to never come back here again. Maybe it would have been better if I left with father...

I ran out of the main room and down corridors, -ignoring every call and wail of my name, being completely honest, I didn't even want to hear my name- the hotel booked for the formality seemed luxurious than I had expected, I hadn’t taken a decent look at the structure.

Pushing against the main glass doors harshly I sucked the air in, it’s strange, I was breaking to the surface after being underwater for minutes. I inhaled deeply.

Every second the elevator took. Every minute I spent making my way to an outdoor opening felt like I was slowly losing breath and emptying out.

It took me a few seconds but I made it.

“Excuse me, are you ok?” A voice came from the left of me, my eyes widened and all at once the trees and garden set up with seating and bouquets didn’t catch my attention for much longer.

Leaning against the railing I took a quick moment to gather myself. The cool breeze against my skin calmed me for a moment.

I’m sure if I had a mirror my face would be as red as a strawberry. I puffed out a few times.

Turning to see who was addressing me in such a calm and polite manner, I glanced up and down at the tall and slender figure of a young male.

His maroon-brown hair was styled in a casual manner contrasting against the suit he was adorned in.

“I’m fine.”

What caught my attention the most was the concerned look on his face and the sparkling round orbs he had. The warmest feeling filled my entire being with a single look into the depth his eyes had.

Two large windows onlooking into his soul.

“Don’t look fine to me.” He spoke after a short pause. His voice was deep, and he mumbled the words. I noticed the accent he had, English must not be his first language.

“Needed a breath of fresh… air is all.” I turned my body to face him and only then did I feel a sense of regret for running out without getting the gown beneath patched up slightly.

“Ah.” I closed my eyes pressing my lips into a thin line, impulsivity and recklessness always got me into situations like this. Awkward was practically my middle name.

“Sorry for…” I waved my hands about hinting and the mess I was in, looking anywhere but his eyes.

“Ah no, no its quite alright.”

His smile was so soft and as he chuckled lightly it brought a glimmer of warmth to he atmosphere.

“Anyways, what are you here for? you look-” I paused trying to think of a suitable word that wouldn’t offend the good-looking stranger and make me look like an absolute pervert. “Uh- orderly?”

I slipped my tongue back into my mouth. It was sticking out to the side, a habit picked up from San. The stranger smirked, he was perceptive, attentive to the movements and mannerisms I subconsciously did. Reminded me of a squirrel.

“Thank you, I’m close with the groom, there is a wedding here this evening?” His accent was adorable it added to the charisma he had.

“Yeah, there is.” I smiled; it wasn’t bursting with happiness though. He brought back the melancholy I was feeling, it was only gone for a second, but I wished the moment were longer. It had been a while since I felt this calm.

“But you came here, looking sad. Is e-everything… ok?” he stuttered a little, but the words were clear and understandable.

Hoping he wouldn’t notice through my clothes I was the bride, I stayed silent for a moment before deciding to talk again.

“I just- I needed a break from people. I felt really… overwhelmed.” It was hard explaining my emotions. I wasn’t good with words especially when it came to topic is like this. Emotions and all.

Exhaling I turned to look out into the distance the rush was still going in the gardens. People down there; they looked like ants.

“So whats the groom like?” I kept my flickering eyes focused down and away from him.

“We are very close; he can be a bother sometimes but he’s very mature and older than me, so I trust him. He’s great!”

My heart started pounding so loud, afraid he’d hear I set my hand on my chest breathing deeply. I was trying to be as subtle as possible.

He must be 28 or maybe even 34. I would gladly take my life right now.

“That’s great.” Cursing internally for the voice break I had, I excused myself with a cough.

Passing it off as a croaky throat wasn’t as hard as understanding that the man I’m marrying tonight was old. Older than the stranger next to me.

“I should get going. Got to prepare for the wedding.” He brushed the edges of the suits. He did look like he was leaving when I burst in.

“Taehyun.” Ah…

“Whats your name?” I mumbled, wanting him to stay a little longer, even if I had met him for a few seconds...

He seemed like a good person to talk to. Someone who would listen.

“Will I see you at the wedding? Are you invited?” His head piped up after turning, definitely a squirrel.

I sighed “I’ll surprise you.”

“Just the veil, that’s all that’s left. You’re ready.”

It’ll be a surprise alright. I hated the idea of ruining my chances, but this was the last few moments I would be able to freely joke and mingle with those unfamiliar to me. The thrill I would have no longer after tonight.

~~~

After reluctantly getting back to the others and having the final preparations complete I had finally done my fittings,

And about time too, my feet were starting to numben up.

If I explained how enthralled I was with hearing those words, it wouldn’t be enough to fully describe how happy I was. Dressing and preparing the ‘image’ they found to be perfect

“You may go down to the hallway and greet some of the guests. Some of your friends are down there.”

“Who’s Beomgyu?”

But it was short lived.

"Don’t go into the garden though, Beomgyu is there.” The words were muttered carelessly.

“Your husband to be, silly.”

Oh so that’s his name? I barely knew a thing about him. Apart from the fact that he’s older than the age of 25, it’s what that taehyun guy said.

“Omg, Mila! You look great.” Yuna squealed, the energy in her was incomparable at the moment. She was freely jumping up and down. God did I wish I were in a skimpy skirt and flowy top, would have been ten times better than what I’m in.

As I made my way down, I had trouble with my dress trying to lift it, so I don’t sweep the carpeted floor of all 6 levels of the hotel.

The soft satin kept slipping past my grip, leading to a red and puffed out state for my entrance to the hall.

It was a few steps from the stairs to the grand entrance, but it felt like miles away.

“Lucky! This is so… freaking, heavy!” drawling my words out I tugged at the weighted train.

“You should be glad this was the dress they picked the other one was 2 times heavier.” Yuna's voice was filled with so much happiness, you'd think she's the one getting married...

“We can’t have a beautiful bride get married in a garbage bag, can we? Especially one as pretty as you.”

“It’s not about the designer tag, I’d be fine with practically anything at this point.” I huff getting a little frustrated.

“You could give me a garbage bag and I’ll gladly accept.”

I turned to my side to see a very tall man, the first thing I noticed was his handsome features, I was sure- for a second, I was staring at a doll. He couldn’t be real.

“Are you kidding me? I look like a mess.” He laughed and it was like the heavens had blessed humans with ears just to hear the harmonious melody of his laughter.

He clicked his tongue “Beomgyu is lucky. He’s marrying this angel.” Humming he lifts the side of the dress warily but with ease. A light grin on his face when I leaned back at his proximity.

“Is he blind,” jokingly I ask Yuna but as I turn to face her, she is out of it. The dress lingering between her fingers, all control gone from the gaze of the tall mysterious man.

“No, yo- you are though.” She mumbles he chuckles a little helping me to the doorway, before winking and slipping past the doors. He was clearly much older and his hair was dark with locks of brown.

“Jungkook… he’s so pretty...” yuna was practically drooling at this point.

“You know him?”

#tomorrow x together #txt series #txt fanfic #ateez fanfic #beomgyu x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez smut #kpop mafia au #txt yeonjun #txt soobin #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader #txt x reader

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lonelyghosts-stuff · 3 years

Text

Avengers Infinity War-First Time Watching Reaction Play-by-Play (Pt. 2)

Part 1

I wonder how many people Gamora has killed? What made her finally snap to not serve Thanos anymore?

How DID Gamora find it? Like, who told her?

How did Thanos capture nebula?

Poor nebula. She’s literally been through hell and back.

Ohhhh she snuck on board...

Thanos you suck so much. You favor one daughter over another.

Oh. Where was said map to the soul stone?

Gosh I feel so damn bad for nebula. She was raised as his daughter too but he tortured her and tore her apart. Nebula never had the chance to be her equal. She deserves so much.

Taught groot as an elective? What about all speak?

Buckle up rocket. It’s gonna get emotional.

Thor is literally all alone. He needs a time to sit alone and cry and break a whole building.

Rocket and Thor friends? Please

1500 years old? Jane, honey, you escaped.

Gotta give it up to Hemsworth’s acting chops here. Especially talking to nobody in reality. Just a bunch of cgi

Ew ew ew eye socket

Should have washed that yikes

Snuck it out by hiding it up your? Huh? You watch too many movies rocket.

Huge title card. Thank you. I wouldn’t have known where we were despite them saying their location many times.

How is that video game battery not dead?

Perceptive rabbit

I LOVE that they used a dwarf to play a giant character!!! This is brilliant! (And that dwarves are giant for some reason lol.)

Soooo again Thanos killed everyone EXCEPT Eitri despite his “morality” supposedly being balance

Poor hands

Poor nebula

Smart nebula

Maybe should have waited to be fixed fully first

Ah crap. SOMEONE PICK UP THE SPACE PHONE

MANTIS

Love how Stark asks for peters help in steering and not Stephen lmao

Nice parking job

Peter, stop popping pop culture refs

Lmao ITS ABOUT TO BE THE ICONIC SCENE

YES PLEASE

Blanket of Death. Capey has a new nickname.

Where’s Gamora

Who’s Gamora

Why is Gamora

What master do you serve?

Jesus?

I mean, yea I do. So does Pratt lmaoo.

LMAO PARKER’S FACE WHEN QUILL SAID THOR WASNT HANDSOME

Storm breaker time baby

“In theory it could summon the bifrost” who theorized this? How do you only theorize and not know?

Oh my gosh mantis is just bouncing around

Mr. Clean lmao

Kick names, take ass

Hey now, these guys saved the galaxy and universe from Ego so lmao

Oh no I know the scene coming up

Poor quill lmao

“I’m half human. So the 50% of me that’s stupid, that’s 100% of you.” “Your math is, blowing my mind.” What’s funny is that Quill’s math was actually completely accurate lol

Stephen having a stroke or a seizure? You good homie?

Soooo if Strange looked to the future and so possible outcomes, what does that mean for the TVA? According to them, there’s ONE sacred timeline, so all other branches are erased (which again messes up what smart hulk eventually says in end game. See kids, this is why you don’t mess with time travel in stories. There’s no way to go back in time without creating a time loop). Ehhhhh I’ll let it slide. Just ignore it... sigh... I can’t help it if I’ve studied paradoxes

Hmmmm not good odds I’ve gotta say...

Watch like, outside of the millions of realities that strange saw, there were like a million or billion more he missed where they won with no casualties lol

Hey Red Skull. Long time no see. How did he get here anyways and why?

Yea you’re prepared all right...

Gotta say, Lord Elrond has seen better days

I’m not ready to say good bye to this Gamora. Gamora and Loki and Nat go down as my favorite characters, gotta say. I know that Tony does and it’s sad, but his feels more satisfying because his sacrifice directly results in them winning. Loki is murdered. Gamora is murdered. Nat died just for a stepping stone for the avengers. She has no idea whether or not they will actually win in the end.

I’m hopeful they may bring Nat back like in the comics, red room clone style.

We got back vision, Loki (kinda), variant Gamora, a new captain America, why not Nat? Yea we have a prequel, but gosh I love her so much.

“You must lose that which you love.” Couldn’t that apply to like an object or something? Could I not throw my Nintendo switch over the cliff? Or my dog? (I would hate that just as much as a person, don’t get me wrong, I’m just curious about the rules)

Yea boohoo sad for Thanos... loses his favorite daughter. I don’t care about him. He deserves suffering.

Poor Gamora doesn’t think he’s willing to do it.. GIRL RUN!!!

Thanos deserves all the suffering.

He does love you Gamora... but that love... it’s selfish. It’s blind... Thanos seems to be a chaotic vigilante who is narrowminded, tunnel vision on his goal with no regards of the cost. But he is evil. If there is ever an alternate route to an end that doesn’t result in the loss of innocent lives, and you know that but you willingly choose the once that costs innocent lives, that is an evil decision. Maybe Thanos isn’t evil, but he’s not good. Far from it. He’s obsessed with this idyllic Utopia but he rushes to one method of getting there. Yes, people suffer. It sucks... it’s unfair... it’s horrible. But it is never the right of someone else to dictate whether or not said person would be better off dead. Who lives, who dies. If Thanos truly was neutral and not selfish, he would have thrown his own life into the mix of the potential 50/50 snap. Thanos is not good. He’s not misunderstood. He’s a murderer. A genocidal cult leader. I have no tears for him. Only for those who suffered more at his hands.

Rant over, time to try not to cry about Gamora...

Her face of realization

Gamora run please

Thanos, I hate you. (Great character her, but not a good person)

Poor Gamora

Oh my gosh the emotion here is great but I’ve heard this sound used as a meme on TikTok too many times aghhhh

Gamora!

What a way to die

I’m crying again. I miss her already...

Who the hell designed this place and put the stone here???? Who did this?

Cry Thanos. Suffer. My only comfort here is that you are sad. You deserve suffering. You really do...

The TVA is laughing here and I’m not okay..

Poor Peter Quill... he’s also lost a lot like Thor, but has had the “luck” of not knowing his family too close.

Wakanda babyyyy

No, you don’t want Starbucks, you want Dutch bros

Lmao I love rhodey. Poor Bruce.

BUCKY BUCKY BUCKY

HUG

NO CMON HAVE A LONG HUG

MALE FRIENDSHIPS ARE SO IMPORTANT.

Yea Shuri show em up.

Okay quick pause, I love love LOVE how Shuri is smarter. It’s a powerful moment for females BUT it’s not done in a way that’s condescending to males! It’s not saying women power because men bad, she’s just good! (And she has had access to technology they never could have but I digress). More of this please Hollywood. Don’t let being a female be the power. I don’t want strong female characters, I want strong characters who happen to be female. Ones who hold their own, have faults like anyone else, struggle, have weaknesses and strengths, but are strong without putting down others. Just a comment, just because a woman character may not be as strong as a man character, that is not saying she’s weak. If you’re the second strongest human in the world, you are NOT weak. You’re just not as strong as the strongest human ever, but that’s nothing against you. LET WOMEN STAND ON THEIR OWN MERITS WITHOUT SEX AFFECTING THEM!

Anyways

I love Shuri

I wish they had more time. She definitely could have done it. But stupid Thanos

Ughhhghhg

I know what many scenes are upcoming... with quill and peter and vision and everyone else

Let👏🏻Bucky👏🏻Have👏🏻Peace👏🏻

Thank you Nat!!! I love that Nat is so protective and selfless.

GET THIS MAN A SHIELD

Bucky needs love please. He’s my stand in, manipulated, greasy, long haired, dark and mysterious, stabby boy. (Also I need Bucky and Loki to meet. But let Loki finish his show (and come out of it alive because if he doesn’t I will sue) and be the antihero hero we need. Please. If he doesn’t get reintroduced into the mcu as a hero I will sue.

Thor, sweetie, are you a masochist?

Back to wakanda

Oh no, bad CGI, floating head Bruce banner. I’ll let it slide... sigh....

Can’t like, you just rain bombs on them forever?

JIBARI TRIBE YEA BOYYYYY

Sorry Proxima Midnight, you look like a frog and your name sounds like a middle schooler’s OC.

How nice. Diplomatic meeting.

“Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood.” Reeeeeeally wish you didn’t say that, T’Challa...

Yay big CGI battle commence! It’s like a really expensive animated cartoon at this point

WAKANDA FOREVER!

Poor Bucky. Forgot this dude doesn’t know much about the modern world.

Ahhhh Kamikazi aliens

I just wanna say that I love that Wakanda still has the artistic culture in their clothing and tradition all the while having badass, super advanced technology.

Why can’t they just rain bombs down the whole fight lol. Rhodey has those super nice bombs, like, do that they he whole time? Please? Why do you not have a barrier around the entire king.

No M’Baku, it’s not the end of wakanda. But half of all life, yea

WAKANDA FOREVER YEAAAAAAA

They should honesty all have nano tech suits like black panther lol. Or iron man suits. Fine maybe the most powerful one with the best quality material for the king, but besides that, yknow.

Wow Steve is hot with a beard.

So much happening at once. Thor, Wakanda, Vormir, Knowhere, am I missing anything?

Okay, but what IS the full force of a star? Like in Newton’s or something? Juls? Is it heat?

What’s this metal? How does it fare with vibranium?

Get off your wooden butt, groot.

“He needs the axe” are you Thor, the god of axes?

Soooo, I thought Thor didn’t NEED the hammer, it just helped him concentrate his powers or act as a conduit. Is that retconned already?

Cmon groot, put down your game. Soooo, is Groot worthy? He technically lifted it. Or is it a technicality because it wasn’t fully finished yet?

Cmon bucky, use that fancy arm of yours.

Wow they’re getting destroyed.

They need wanda to help.

BADASS ENTRANCE BABYYYY

How did Thor know to come to wakanda?

Floaty head Bruce

“BRING ME THANOS!”

Ahhhhhahahaha yeaaaaaa

Cry Thanos. Do it. I hate you.

Much more of a purple grape nutsack.

Oh gosh... I know what Peter Quill is going to do. I still don’t hate him.

“With all six stone I would simply snap my fingers. They would all cease to exist.” Orrrr, now hear me out, I know I sound like a broken record now but... MAYBE DOUBLE THE RESOURCES INSTEAD?? That’s not mercy. That’s not up to you to decide whether or not someone’s better off dead.

Smoosh

Yea quill has experience with the power stone

AIM FOR THE HEAD

Cmon it’s basic zombie tactics

I love peter quill lmao

Go capey!!!

Magic with a kick!

Poor Peter

CAPEY NOOOOOO

Wow he’s OP

Ouch quill just got majorly clotheslined

NEBULA

“Where’s Gamora?” 😭😭😭 SHE CARES AGHHHH

Restrain him! Work it mantis!!!

Why even remove the gauntlet, just slit his throat... kill him....

Quill no... stop being cocky...

Oh no

Quill please don’t

JUST SLIT THANOS’ THROAT

Quill please....

Poor quill. Just lost the person who really really loved him

Okay, I still love star lord. Idc what others think. He reacted realistically. If you hate peter quill for how he reacted, you better also hate Tony Stark for how he reacted to bucky when he learned bucky killed his parents despite knowing for a fact that bucky was brainwashed. Yes it was annoying... yes they were so close, but quill is so human here. I don’t hate him. He gets too much hate for acting like any normal person would have. Distraught, grief filled, he lost his love. Someone who helped him open up and finally move on from his mother’s death and fathers villainy.

Spider man saving mantis gives me life

How did that power stone blast not kill them?

Clearly Thanos has played Majora’s Mask. At least he has good taste.

So close vision.... but I know... I know what happens.

YES BUCKY AND ROCKET GUN CIRCLE.

Lmao give rocket Bucky’s old arm.

“I am Groot.” “I am Steve Rogers.” Comedy gold

Cmon Thor, go after the big one first.

Cmon wanda, save them. We need some scarlet witch magic up here to stop these

Okay that was so cool. AND THEN SHE USED THE BLADES

Oh no but now Shuri is alone

So close yet so far.... Dangit... vision was almost good

Ouch. Bonk to the head

YEA BLACK WIDOW

BADASS TIME

AND OKOYE!!

LETS GOOOOOOO

BADASS WOMEN

Ouch poor vision

Cmon Thor back up vision

Please

Hulk is in his feels

Cmon hulk grow up

Ooooh smart move banner

Aaaaand he’s gone

Giant blade look oit

Corvus, screw off.

YEA STEVE

WHERE IS THOR WHEN YOU NEED HIM

CMON NAT

Oh dang. Nice one wanda. But also, sheesh. Helluva way to go. But no big.

Yea vision. Stabby time.

Now vision and Steve, kiss.

Spider man saving everyone’s lives.

YEA STRANGE

Where was this in New York???

MULTIPLYING

WHY DIDNT YOU DO THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE????

Oh no

Well then... ouch. Soooo where’s the real stone???

Hey look Tony, you have a fan.

Okay I’m just pissed odd they didn’t just kill Thanos when they had him subdued. Like, worry about the glove AFTER he’s not longer a threat

Oof

Tony is taking a beating

HE WAS STABBED

WHAT

I don’t want your respect Thanos. That’s an insult.

They will remember him. They will remember him Thanos. When he kills you.

DOCTOR STRANGE WHAT?

You really doing this??? I guess he knows what needs to unfold for them to win... dang. I wouldn’t trust him tho.

Peter Quill in berserker mode

Where’d he go?

Name dropping the second movie

Strange knows everything about to go down. Who dies, who lives, what Thanos is about to do... he’s accepting his soon dusted demise because Stark needs to live...

AIM FOR THE HEAD UGHHHHH

Stop teleporting. That’s Loki’s gimmick.

KILL THIS RAISIN LOOKING NUTSACK UGH

Homie way too OP

Poor wanda and Vis...

HER LIP TREMBLE

PHENOMENAL ACTING

SAY I LOVE YOU

I JUST FEEL YOU

AGGHHHH IM CRYING AGAIN

Poor wanda. To have to kill her love... this.. this is a sacrifice Thanos... not your murder....

Wow Steve is holding back Thanos with pure brute

WANDA IS SO STRONG

HOLDING BACK THANOS WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY BREAKING THE MIND STONE

I LOVE YOU

AGHHHHHHHHH

And I know what happens next...

Poor wanda

Piss off thanos you understand nothing

You lost more than she could know? Bull crap. You are causing everyone to lose...

Cruel reality. Wanda has to see him die twice. RIP Vision

RIP half of all life...

AIM FOR THE DAMN HEAD

IF THOR KILLED HIM THEY COULD HAVE USED THE GAUNTLET TO BRING EVERYONE BACK TO LIFE. USED THE TIME STONE TO REVIVE THEM ALL.

How did that not kill Thanos tho. It may not have been a head shot but still.

Lil Gamora

What is this place?

Is this the soul realm?

Thanos, I hope you suffer forever. You deserve all the pain...

Rest In Peace: Vision, Loki, Bucky, T’Challa, Groot, Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson, Mantis, Drax, Peter Quill, Dr. Strange, Peter Parker (I don’t feel so good), and everyone else...

Thank you Nebula.

Thanos, you do NOT deserve to retire peacefully—wipe that smile off of your face

Oop, Rest In Peace Maria Hill and Nick Fury too... Motherfu— (so close Sammy boy...)

Yea Thanos you didn’t really think that through. Much more than half will died since other people rely on other peoples lives

Good thing he hit that button last minute huh? I wonder how captain marvel would fare in the TVA? are her powers considered magic? I mean, she clearly doesn’t know everything since she only just learned about Thanos (which is funny because she was supposedly traversing the universe to protect people)

Welp... onto movie two!

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years

Text

Ebert and Rings: A Meeting by Chance (Lemon)

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Male Human/Male Tiefling Additional Tags: Exophilia, Tabaxi, Tiefling Content Warnings: Sex, Gay Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex Words: 4802

While Ebert and Rings are on a job to find incriminating evidence against their employer's rival, the cross paths with a man Ebert once attended school with. Jilted and angry, Ebert confronts him. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

“I hate this thing!” Rings hissed as Ebert took her hand and helped her down from the carriage. She was fussing with the bodice of the ball gown she was wearing. It was bright gold with blue embellishments to accentuate the colors of her fur, complete with matching jewelry. “Why can’t I wear something slutty?”

“Because this isn’t the time nor the place,” Ebert said, wearing a finely-tailored suit of moss green that complemented his hair and skin tone, with suitable finery and a beautiful cane for his limp. Ebert’s clothes and Rings’ dress were the down payment for their current job, which was infiltrating the manor of a local noble to find evidence that he was accepting illegal goods from their employer’s competing company. The party was an excellent opportunity to snoop around.

“This is the perfect time and place!” She argued as the two of them approached the entrance to the grand hall. “Who’s going to notice you poking around in this crotchity old fart’s study when these are on full display?” She cupped her bosoms and jiggled them.

“Stop it!” Ebert hissed. “We’re supposed to be blending in!”

“Well, forgive me if I’m not exactly the belle of the ball,” She sniffed. “I grew up poor and begging, so I’m not used to kissing the asses of the nobility.”

“Then just smile and keep your mouth shut!” Ebert said as he feigned a delighted smile while entering the main ballroom.

“Chauvinist,” Rings muttered, and Ebert growled through his teeth.

The ballroom was less grand and more gaudy; it was over-decorated with massive, gauzy ribbon streamers and silk flowers spilling out over every surface. The walls were covered in poorly-painted frescoes of busty women. Ebert didn’t know a person could be so rich and still have such awful taste.

“See?” Rings said, pointing at the walls. “Slutty would have been fine.”

“Rings, please,” Ebert said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

As he was looking around, taking in the… unique decor, a face at the head of the room caught his eye, and he went pale.

“Your face looks like you’re constipated, what’s wrong with you?” Rings asked.

“It’s him,” Ebert said in an intense undertone. “The little shit that dared me to go into the forbidden library! The one who said he’d repay me in sex!”

“Ooh, where?” Rings said, perking up. “I want to see the legend up close.”

“Near the ice swan. The one with the blackish hair and horns like a prong buck.”

Rings gawked, seeing a tall, slim figure in fine, dark blue sorcerer’s robes with silver embellishments far more tasteful than his surroundings. His eyes were like coins, bright copper with no pupils. His skin was a red-brown russet color, his complexion smooth and flawless. His double-pointed horns and split hooves were brown-black, as was his long, straight hair. He was still young-looking and beautiful in the face, much to Ebert’s dismay; he couldn’t deny that his old nemesis was still devastatingly attractive, dammit.

Well, Ebert wasn’t a schoolboy anymore, and he wanted to give this little shit a piece of his mind.

“What are you doing?” Rings asked insistently. “This isn’t what we came for!”

“We can take a minute for this,” Ebert said with determination. “This… boy is going to hear what I have to say.”

“Isn’t he older than you?” Rings snickered.

“Shut up, Rings,” Ebert retorted, dragging her behind him.

They walked swiftly up to the dais where the tiefling sorcerer was looking out over the crowd, his face cold and haughty, holding a glass of pale wine.

“Tilvanis,” Ebert said, Stopping in front of him and standing to attention like he was taught in school. “It’s… interesting to see you again.

Tilvanis looked him up and down, taking in his pale countenance and the cane he leaned on. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

“I went to school with a lot of people, that tells me nothing,” Tilvanis said dismissively.

“Ebert,” He snarled. “My name is Ebert. I was expelled, remember? Well, I was arrested, more accurately, because of you.”

“Ahhh,” Tilvanis said. “The dead boy. Why exactly did you reanimate that poor girl again? Angry that I wouldn’t sleep with you, so you decided to make yourself a girlfriend?”

“You--!” Ebert felt himself about to implode, but Rings’ hand, specifically her claws, dug into his wrists. “You’re nothing but a pompous twat!” Ebert spat, though he still kept his voice down. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself and jeopardize the job over this smug rube. “You always were! I don’t know what it was I ever saw in you!”

“What’s not to see?” Tilvanis smirked. “I’m well-bred, rich, and handsome. You think you’re the only person I’ve toyed with? Please. I slept my way through most of the nobility in this region. My employer is an old lover, in fact. How else do you think I achieved my position so young? I was just as passionate about advancing my station as I was about learning magic. And look where it’s gotten me.”

“A servant to a man with the worst taste on the continent?” Rings asked.

Tilvanis narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps you should have followed my example,” He said, clearly still talking to Ebert but glaring at Rings. “You wouldn’t be cavorting around with…” His lip curled. “Lesser castes.”

Rings began to growl, the feral one from the back of her throat.

“What’s all this, what’s all this?” The noble of the manor asked, coming up on Tilvanis’s elbow. “Friends of yours, Tilvanis?”

“I wouldn’t call them that, no, my Lord,” Tilvanis said. “This is an old classmate of mine, and his…” He raised an eyebrow at Rings. “…guest.”

Rings sneered at him.

“Ah! So you’re both sorcerer’s then?” The noble asked.

“No, my Lord,” Tilvanis stated. “I’m afraid my…” Tilvanis certainly liked his meaningful pauses, didn’t he? “…friend here was expelled for gross incompetence.”

“That’s not…” Ebert began, but he stopped himself. Admitting what he was expelled for was a crime in and of itself, and Tilvanis knew it. His smirk said so. “…not accurate.” He finished. “I am, in fact, still a sorcerer. I left to pursue alternative scholarly opportunities. My education has been more hands-on and proactive than traditional academic avenues would have allowed.”

“Interesting,” The nobleman mused. “I wonder how traditional schooling would fare against self-discipline. Perhaps a demonstration would be in order.”

“Oh, my Lord, I don’t think--” Ebert began, but Tilvanis interrupted him.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, my Lord,” Tilvanis said with a smug smirk.

“Excellent,” The nobleman said. He waved the band to silence and clapped his hands to draw the attention of the room. “Welcomed Guests!” He said, his voice echoing around the hall. “My personal sorcerer and his associate has agreed to a duel for our entertainment! Please clear the floor!”

People immediately began dividing into two sides, parting the sea of bodies until a large space was cleared.

Ebert took Rings by the arm and pulled her close, whispering in her ear.

“Use this distraction,” He said. “Find what we came for so we can get out of here.”

“Don’t get too turned on,” She said. “I know fighting gets you hot.” She then escaped into the crowd before he could respond. He could only glare after her.

Ebert and Tilvanis faced each other and bowed before stepping out onto the floor, as was tradition.

“This is reckless,” Ebert whispered as they bowed.

“If you’re as educated as you claim, you should be fine,” Tilvanis said as he rose.

“What about these people?” Ebert said as they both turned and stepped down from the dias and walked to the center of the room. “Don’t you care at all about them getting hurt?”

“Why would I?” He replied. “Do you? The Ebert I knew didn’t care about anyone, especially strangers.”

“Apparently, you didn’t know me all that well, it seems,” Ebert said.

“True,” Tilvanis said. “Nor did I care to.”

The two of them reached the center of the room, faced each other, bowed again, and walked five steps away from each other. During the few seconds he had, Ebert tried to remember Tilvanis’s dueling style. He tended toward flash rather than substance, erring to startle and scare rather than harm, though he wasn’t above a cheap shot if he thought he was genuinely threatened. His strong suit was making an impression.

Ebert had become more aggressive in his spell casting since travelling with Rings. Typically, when he casts a spell, someone was trying to kill him, so he usually cast with the same intent. He had to be mindful to play defensive out of fear of actually hurting someone.

As he turned, he instinctively cast Ward Wall from his cane, closely avoiding a fireball to the head. The line of ghostly, pearlescent people that made up the wall shielding Ebert drew a gasp from the crowd, and Ebert silently cursed himself. Being an outlaw on the run and working dangerous and sometimes illegal jobs, he was far less concerned about the type of magic he used, but in places like this, full of nobility and delegates, he had to be far more careful.

Tilvanis was smirking at the other end of the dueling space as he dispelled the ward wall easily and sent an ice spike toward Ebert’s head. “What’s the matter, my old friend?” He asked. “Did you forget basic etiquette? Where’s your fight? Where’s your spark? Where’s your love for the game?”

Ebert didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, punched out as fist, turning the spike to snow, and sent an acid serpent streaking through the air, which broke into three when Tilvanis tried to dispel it, causing one of them to catch him in the side. Tilvanis hissed and blasted an orb of radiant light around himself, dissolving the serpents.

Now he was angry, and Ebert could tell. Ebert remembered school with Tilvanis; any slight failure was enough to send him into a fit. Ebert used this to his advantage. He sent a wave of invisible heat blasting into Tilvanis’s eyes, blinding him, and then shot a blast of cold air right into his chest, knocking him backward.

As Tilvanis scrambled to get back to his feet, Ebert rushed him, catching him in a light lasso that completely immobilized him and pinned him to the ground.

“This isn’t a game for me, Tilvanis,” Ebert whispered to him, pulling him close by the scruff of his robe. “I don’t play to win. I play to survive. That makes me much more dangerous.”

A look of anger, fear, and another emotion that was harder to recognize chased themselves across Tilvanis’s face.

“I concede,” He said loudly. The crowd groaned disappointedly but clapped appreciatively for Ebert. Looking around, the nobleman who had insisted on the duel did not look happy.

As the nobleman made his way over to the two of them, Ebert held up a hand.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” Ebert said. “I fear I may have injured your personal sorcerer. I shall attend to him.”

The nobleman looked annoyed, but nodded shortly, turning on his heel and walking off in a huff.

“Let me go!” Tilvanis hissed.

“You’ll thank me for this later,” Ebert said, leading him by the lasso out of the room. “Is there a free room near here?”

“Take me to my room,” Tilvanis sighed in defeat. “Down this hall and to the right. Though, thanks to you, it may not be mine for much longer.”

“Wow, it really doesn’t take much to knock you off your high horse, now does it?” Ebert said as he walked.

“Are you going to gloat all night?” Tilvanis asked.

“I might,” Ebert said, opening the door to an opulent bedroom full of purple silk and dark wood furniture. “Considering what you said to me before I left school, and the cold reception I got from you this evening, I think I’ve earned a little bit of gloating.”

“I don’t even remember what I said to you back then,” Tilvanis admitted, sitting carefully on the edge of his bed, holding his side and wincing.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Ebert said, kneeling next to the bed.

“What are you doing?” Tilvanis said as Ebert began to prod his wound.

“Sit still, I’m a physician,” Ebert replied vaguely.

“Since when?”

“It’s been ten years, Tilvanis. Some of us haven’t been resting on our laurels or fucking our way to the top. Now hold still,” Ebert said through his teeth, jerking Tilvanis into a straight-sitting position. Tilvanis grunted but didn’t fight. “It’s mostly a flesh wound, but it needs treatment. Take off your robes.”

“What?” Tilvanis screeched.

“Oh, don’t be a pearl-clutching princess, just take off the robes,” Ebert returned.

“I don’t want to.”

Ebert grabbed him by the collar and shook him slightly. “Take. Off. The. Robes.”

Tilvanis gulped and acquiesced. As he did so, Ebert saw a black collar circling his neck with a large gold ring on the front. He was otherwise unclothed. Ebert said nothing and tried not to stare. He was still as… lithe well-built as he had been in school.

“Lie on your side,” You instructed him. “I’m going to draw the acid out, otherwise it won’t heal properly.”

“If you say so,” Tilvanis said offhandedly, though he was watching with a concerned expression.

Ebert swirled his finger over the wound as if stirring a drink, then pinched his fingers and pulled up, and a small stream of shifting green sifted up and out of the wound. With a casual flick of his hand, Ebert swatted it into the night-side table, melting a streak in the wood.

“Hey!” Tilvanis protested.

“Oh, don’t fuss,” Ebert tutted. “You live in a palace of impermanence. It’s just a piece of furniture.”

“It’s a piece of furniture that cost an exorbitant amount of gold!” Tilvanis retorted.

“Pfft,” Ebert replied. “Unless it’s actual gold, I don’t care for it. Now stop talking, I’m almost done.”

As combative and abrasive as Tilvanis was, he certainly seemed to enjoy following orders, for he shut his mouth immediately when Ebert told him to. Ebert sat on the bed next to the wizard and ran a finger over the wound, using his magic to weave the skin back together.

“I’ll be bruised,” He said. “But it shouldn’t reopen. Just try not to be an ass to another person better at magic than you while also less concerned with their personal safety.”

Tilvanis grunted in annoyance, but didn’t respond.

“Lay on your stomach,” Ebert said. “I’m going to put a salve on your back. You took a hard fall and it’ll bruise badly otherwise.”

“You’re pushing your luck,” Tilvanis said, rolling over.

“Who’s luck? I’m treating you. It seems like you’re getting the better end of the deal. I should have just left you on the floor to your master’s mercy.”

“Don’t call him that!” Tilvanis snapped. “He’s my employer, not my master.”

“What’s the difference?”

“To me? There’s a big difference,” Tilvanis replied. “I have no loyalty to him. He’s a pimple of a man who will likely drop me from his employ after my failure tonight. A master is someone you pledge your life to, someone who wouldn’t throw you out for the slightest disappointments.”

“Yes, well, that’s something I know all about,” Ebert said.

There was a stony silence after this while Ebert massaged the salve into the muscles of Tilvanis’s back.

“I lied, you know,” Tilvanis piped up after some time. “When I said I didn’t remember what I’d said to you at school. I do remember. I won’t apologize for it, but… I will admit that I was perhaps too harsh. I was… angry.”

“Hmm,” Ebert said. “I won’t say I forgive you, but I will say that I don’t blame you. For what happened afterward, I mean. I got myself expelled and on the wrong side of the law myself. I could have seen those books and simply left the library, never having done the experiment and saving myself ten years of grief. But…” He sighed. “I also wouldn’t have the life I have now, which is something I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. A life you likely wouldn’t see any value in.”

“Sounds like you owe me, then,” Tilvanis said.

“Hah,” Ebert laughed sourly. “I said I don’t blame you, but I’m not going to thank you, either. You were a stuck up piece of shit then, and you’re still one now. Though, I suppose you got your personality honestly. I can’t imagine what you family must be like, if this is how you turned out.”

“You’re an asshole,” Tilvanis said with his eyes closed.

“So the pot calls the kettle,” Ebert retorted. “I’m done. You can redress, if you like.”

“Hmm,” Tilvanis said, sitting up. Ebert couldn’t help but notice that his cock was slightly erect, but he attempted not to react. Tilvanis seemed to realize, despite Ebert’s efforts. “You were very attracted to me back then, weren’t you?” He asked.

“What does that matter now?” Ebert asked, packing up his salve.

“You could still have me, if you wanted,” Tilvanis said, leaning back and widening his legs.

Ebert sighed irritatedly. “And what’s in it for you? You don’t do anything for free.”

“You’re right,” Tilvanis said, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. “I may have lost to you this evening, but I’m not an imbecile. I know why you’re here: you’re attempting to ruin my employer’s business. He’s been dodging accusations of illegal dealings for years. It’s one of the reasons he hired a personal sorcerer in the first place.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m saying I won’t stop you. I just don’t want to go down with him.”

“You might be fired tonight, anyway,” Ebert pointed out. “That would put you out of the crossfire as it is.”

Tilvanis looked at him with a flat expression. “I don’t want to go down with him and I still want to maintain my reputation as a sorcerer. I’ll need a new position after all of this is over.”

“Even still, I’m not interested,” Ebert said. “You’ve given me no reason to change my mind.”

“Are you sure?” Tilvanis said sultrily, sliding his hands up Ebert’s legs over the fabric of his very expensive suit. “I could give you pleasure you’ve never experienced.”

Ebert snorted. “You haven’t met Reverence,” He said, stepping out of Tilvanis’s reach.

“Command me,” Tilvanis said, slipping onto his knees at Ebert’s feet. “Tell me what you want. Just for tonight, be my master, and I’ll give you everything you need to ruin my employer.”

“I don’t need your assistance,” Ebert said. “Rings is, at this moment, collecting whatever evidence we need to ruin your employer. She’s likely got it and gone already.”

Tilvanis shook his head. “There are protections--”

Ebert stopped him with a raised hand. “That’s one of the first bits of magic I taught her, undoing protections over property. She’s more than capable of doing this part of the job herself, which is why she’s off on her own. She seems to think I’ll enjoy my time with you, though nothing so far has proven her right. I don’t need you.”

“What can I do to make you need me?” Tilvanis mewed, sitting like a good puppy waiting for treats.

Ebert contemplated the man at his feet with some dubiousness. He certainly wouldn’t have expected this from Tilvanis, not with his need to be on top of things and in control of every situation. He found it intriguing. On a hunch, he opened the drawer in the night table. Sure enough, there was a long, thick, golden chain with a clasp on one end and a handle on the other.

Ebert took the chain, attached the clasp to the ring on Tilvanis’s neck, and tugged it sharply upward. Tilvanis moaned slightly, his length bobbing in his lap, and he stood up. Ebert looked him up and down, examining Tilvanis’s body carefully, drinking in the slight form and impeccable skin. He flicked his fingers, and the door to the room locked. No key on earth would open it until another magic user dispelled the magic holding it closed.

“Undress me,” Ebert said.

“Yes, sir,” Tilvanis said. Ebert kept a tight hold on the lease as Tilvanis went around and slowly stripped him of his coat, waistcoat, shirt, undershirt, pants, and finally undergarments. Tilvanis seemed to take note of Ebert’s scars, but said nothing about them.

Tilvanis zeroed in on Ebert’s nipples, licking and sucking with his mouth and played with the other with his fingers. Ebert enjoyed it for a few moments before winding his fingers into Tilvanis’s hair and snatching him back.

“Did I tell you to do that?” He asked.

“Forgive me,” Tilvanis said. “What can I do to please you?”

“Mmm,” Ebert hummed. He moved onto the bed, pulling Tilvaris by the chain onto the bed after him, and lay on his back, propping his cane against the headboard. “There now,” He said. “This is more appropriate. Now you can continue.”

Tilvaris began kissing Ebert on the neck and collarbone, biting at his earlobes and jaw. As he moved in to kiss Ebert on the mouth, Ebert stopped him by putting a hand around his throat and putting enough pressure to hold him at bay.

“No, no,” He said, slowly releasing his grip. “You have to earn that. Make me feel good first.”

“Yes, sir,” Tilvanis said. His tongue, which was strangely dark in color and forked, slithered out from between his lips, and he licked Ebert slowly down his body, groping and caressing as he went. Ebert watched him, getting hard as he moved further down, his tip brushing the skin of Tilvanis’s abdomen as he inched downward.

Tilvanis kissed Ebert’s inner thighs and bit them, hard enough to leave faint fang marks, but not enough to hurt. He sucked the skin into his mouth, flicking his bifurcated tongue over it, before letting it out again with a pop, leaving a red-purple mark. He did this a dozen times before sitting up on his knees and looking at Ebert expectantly.

“Suck it,” Ebert commanded, yanking the lease forward.

Tilvanis jolted and smiled, his sharp teeth glittering behind his lips. “Gladly.” He bend down, running his tongue up and down Ebert’s tip, laving the head around and around, before slowly pulling Ebert’s cock into his mouth. Ebert groaned and lay his head back on the pillow, grabbing one of Tilvanis’s horns and moving his head up and down. Tilvanis’s hand reached down to fondle and gently squeeze his balls, pausing momentarily to lick up the line from bottom to top.

Ebert had to admit, he was certainly good at this. No wonder he’d gotten so far. It clearly wasn’t his magical talent. No matter, a person can be talented elsewhere.

“Do you have something?” Ebert asked.

Tilvanis knew what he meant. “In the drawer where the lease was.”

Ebert opened it and reached in, pulling out a vial of oil. He handed it to Tilvanis.

“You know what to do,” Ebert said.

“Say it,” Tilvanis said, dangling the vial.

“Put that on and fuck me,” Ebert replied.

“Yes, master.” Tilvanis uncorked the vial, which smelled floral, and dabbed some on his fingers. He began gently massaging it into Ebert’s pucker, moving his fingers in and out, around and around, while stroking him slowly at the same time.

“That’s enough,” Ebert said. “Fuck me like I told you to.”

Tilvanis poured a generous amount of the nice smelling oil onto his hand and spread it over his dick thoroughly, then lined himself up and pushed himself inside Ebert.

“Harder,” Ebert said. “I’m not going to split in half.”

Tilvanis grinned again and slammed himself into Ebert, the skin slapping sinfully. He stopped, then slammed again, making Ebert grunt.

“Be specific, master,” Tilvanis teased. “How am I to know what you want if you don’t tell me explicitly?”

“Don’t make me sick Rings on you! She’ll show you how it’s done!” Ebert said, grabbing Tilvanis’s waist and moving him. “Fuck me until I can’t walk!”

Tilvanis went on at full speed, smacking against Ebert’s body hard, anchoring his hands on Ebert’s hips and driving into him like a hammer into a nail. The grunting and groaning echoed throughout the chamber, and Ebert wondered if it was magically soundproofed. He hoped so.

He could feel himself getting closer to his peak. Just as he felt the wave crashing into him, he pulled Tilvanis down and kissed him on the mouth, moaning his climax against his lips.He spurted warmth over both of their stomachs and Tilvanis moved even faster, building to his own peak soon after, filling Ebert up, until he finally collapsed on top of Ebert.

The two of them lay there until Ebert finally wheezed, “I assume there is a washing chamber connected to this room?”

“Of course there is, I’m not an animal,” Tilvanis said. He lifted his head and looked off to the left. “It’s through that door.”

“Help me get clean, then,” Ebert said.

“Is that a command?” Tilvanis asked.

“What do you think?” Ebert retorted.

Tilvanis snorted and lifted Ebert up with ease. Water was already filling the large, in-floor tub of marble. Tilvanis laid him into the warm water, then jumped in after him, splashing him.

“Twat,” Ebert said, wiping water from his eyes. After a moment, he raised his arm and drew some sigils in the air, summoning two invisible servants. “Wash us,” He commanded, and the servants splashed into the tub, taking up sponges and began to clean the two of them.

“Now this is a nice idea,” Tilvanis said, laying back and allowing the invisible servant to scrub his body.

“Not a corpse-fucking idiot, am I?” Ebert said sourly.

Tilvanis inhaled a big breath and sighed. “I do regret saying that. And I regret what happened afterward. Perhaps if I had taken more of an interest, asked you what was happening, I could have dissuaded you from the mistake you made.”

“It was a mistake at the time,” Ebert said. “Though I cannot say I see it as such now. It’s why my life is the way it is. I have a home, a life, love, and even children.”

“You have children?” Tilvanis laughed. “My goodness, you certainly have changed.”

“Change isn’t a bad thing, you know,” Ebert said. “You might benefit from budging a little.”

Tilvanis snorted. There was a knock at the door.

“That’ll be Rings,” Ebert said.

“How do you know?” Tilvanis asked.

“The pattern of the knock,” Ebert replied. “Come in, Rings!”

“You locked the door magically,” Tilvanis said.

“I told you,” Ebert replied as she waltzed in, carrying several documents. “Unlocking magically locked doors was one of the first things I taught her.”

“Having fun, I trust?” She said. “Oooh, bathtime. Definitely fun.”

“Want to join us?” Ebert asked. “You should give Rings a try, Tilvanis. You’ve never met a woman as dominant as she is. If you want a master, you’re looking for her.”

Rings began to strip down. “Reverence is the master, I just like playing the role sometimes.”

“You’ve mentioned this person before,” Tilvanis said as he took Rings’ hand and helped her down into the bath. Ebert summoned a third invisible servant, and Rings purred happily, laying against Tilvanis. “Who is this Reverence?”

“She’s one of my partners and the leader of the Temple of Fysy,” Rings said as she wiggled in Tilvanis’s lap. “You should visit one day. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

“A temple?” Tilvanis said dubiously. “I’m not religious.”

“Neither are we,” Ebert said. “But Reverence will do things that make you believe in a god, even if it’s her.”

Tilvanis snickered. “Perhaps a visit is in order.”

In the following weeks, Tilvanis’s employer quietly stepped down as head of his company, and Tilvanis stepped in to take over. Rings and Ebert were invited to the party to swear him in, and he tried not to look too smug about it.

Tilvanis did, indeed, make a pilgrimage to the temple and enjoyed all the gifts contained within its walls. He met Reverence, and was just as smitten with her as everyone was. He began making monthly visits to worship and leave donations. Within a year, the temple and it’s village was more prosperous than it had ever been.

Ebert and Tilvanis became friends, and sometimes lovers, and funded many jobs for Rings and Ebert. Though their reunion was tense, their lives were re-entwined, and Ebert finally felt truly fulfilled.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience!To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

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ghostking-wenning · 4 years

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Radishes, Chapter 5

It took me way longer to edit and finish this than I thought! But I think I’m finally happy with it. Let me know what you think!

2600 words, rated G, NingXian, modern au, rom-com, zoo date!, etc.

⭑⭑⭑

Qionglin woke bright and early Saturday morning. He liked to sleep in a little on days off, but the moment his eyes opened today, he was buzzing with excitement. The only thing on his mind was his date with Wuxian. They weren’t set to meet for several more hours, however, so Qionglin busied himself making breakfast. The ritual of cooking was relaxing. Washing vegetables, whisking eggs, slicing bread -- it was like meditation. With a serene expression, he sat at the table and dug in. It was a simple meal, but it was fresh and delicious. There was something special about making food with ingredients he’d grown himself.

He washed up, slowly and thoroughly, and put everything away. He puttered around his small house, an in-law style apartment a little ways away from the main farmhouse. Several of these little houses dotted the property; his grandfather had built them for his children, and this one had been left to Qing and Qionglin when their parents passed. It had stood empty for a long time, until Qionglin was grown. Qing stayed here when she visited for the holidays, but she would probably never return to the farm permanently, so effectively, Qionglin had the whole place to himself. It was small, quiet, and cozy. It was home.

Eventually, though the hours had dragged by, it was time to go. Qionglin changed his clothes multiple times before deciding on a pair of trendy-looking joggers he’d never actually worn -- they were too nice to do farm work in -- and a t-shirt with a little ghost on it. Both were gifts from Qing. I should get her to take me shopping soon… He topped the outfit off with a plain green jacket and checked himself out in the mirror. This’ll do.

He texted Wuxian as he walked to the car. “On my way! :)”

An hour or so later, he arrived at the cafe where Wuxian asked to meet. He perched on a garden wall and tried to calm his fluttering heart, but his efforts were in vain. Wuxian strolled up, hands in his pockets, smiling brightly. Today he wore dark grey trousers, and a crisp white v-neck under his usual leather jacket -- far simpler than the outfit he’d worn on stage the night before, but he still looked amazing. Qionglin hopped to his feet, already grinning wide.

“Hey!” He said cheerfully, vaguely pleased with himself for not stuttering.

“Hey, yourself,” Wuxian replied, slinging an arm around Qionglin’s shoulders. Qionglin still wasn’t used to being touched so casually and so much; a faint blush crept up his cheeks. “I like your shirt,” he went on, tapping the ghost printed on Qionglin’s chest. His fingernails were painted a deep red that caught the sunlight and glittered.

“Oh, thanks… I wish I could pull off nail polish like that. It looks really n-nice on you.” He wasn’t used to praise, either, but he’d been raised to always return a compliment.

“Why couldn’t you?” Wuxian asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Um, well, I don’t think it would suit me that well… plus I’d just mess them up right away doing farm work.” Qionglin reasoned.

“I guess that makes sense,” Wuxian said, shrugging one shoulder. “Shall we?”

He steered them into the cafe. The interior was sleek and modern-looking, all polished steel and gleaming white countertops. Qionglin was distantly reminded of a high-end electronics shop, or perhaps an art gallery.

Wuxian leaned down and whispered conspiratorially. “This place is pretentious as hell, but their coffee is out of this world.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Qionglin murmured back. “I’ve never really tried coffee, so I wouldn’t know the difference, heh.”

“Never? Like really never?” Wuxian asked, dumbfounded.

“Nah, my family is all tea-drinkers. We never had it around, and I’ve never really bothered.” He shrugged. “... Is that weird?”

“Nah, not really. I kinda live off coffee, though. There’s probably more caffeine than blood in my veins.” Wuxian quipped. “I think I’m the weird one in this case.”

Qionglin snickered a little. He was a little weird, but it was part of why Qionglin liked him. “S-so what should I get?” He asked, looking at the menu hanging above the counter. “I don’t know what any of these words mean…” He’d heard of things like lattes and mochas, but what the hell was a macchiato? Or a ristretto? I didn’t realize I’d need a vocabulary lesson for a coffee date, he thought wryly.

“Hmm,” Wuxian tapped the side of his nose. “Do you trust me?” He asked, repeating his question from last night.

Qionglin paused then nodded. “... mn.” He blushed again, remembering their conversation, remembering his misunderstanding. But I understand now. It’s okay now. He reminded himself to stay present. “I- I’ll get us a table.”

There was an empty table in the window, with a vase of little pink and white flowers. Qionglin plunked down and waited patiently for Wuxian. He waltzed over a few minutes later, placing a glass mug in front of Qionglin.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he warned, kind of pointlessly. Steam curled off the surface of the coffee.

“You don’t say,” Qionglin teased, earning a surprised snort from Wuxian.

“Fair enough,” he admitted. “So how have you been in the … 13 hours since we last met?”

“Honestly? Nervous.” Qionglin said, fiddling with a wooden stirring stick.

“Yeah? Me, too.” Wuxian agreed.

Qionglin looked up sharply at him. “Y-you? Really? Why?”

“Well, you see, I have a date with a really cute guy today.” He smirked, eyes twinkling.

Qionglin’s heart did a backflip in his chest. “I- I… um…” He floundered for a moment before falling quiet, staring into his cup. There was a layer of fluffy milk foam on top, with a dusting of cinnamon. It smelled nice; toasty, rich and a little citrusy. He took a careful sip. It was slightly sweet, slightly bitter, and really quite tasty.

“What do you think?” Wuxian asked. He’d been watching intently.

“It’s good!” Qionglin began. “I didn’t really know what to expect, but I like it. It’s sweet, but not too sweet, it’s a little bitter, kind of citrusy and chocolaty. The cinnamon is a nice touch, too. It really brings it together.”

“Wow,” he said, looking mildly impressed. “That’s a much more thought-out answer than I expected. You sound like a professional food critic or something. You must really know your stuff, huh?”

“Ah, n-not really… I just watch a lot of cooking shows.” Qionglin demurred.

Wuxian raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the matter. “Wanna try mine?” He slid his cup across the table. His was dark and clear and it smelled strong and heady.

Qionglin tasted it and made a face, his eyes narrowed and his nose scrunched up. It was so harsh! Without any milk or sugar, the coffee was sour and bitter, and so strong it made Qionglin cough a little. He pushed the cup back across the table.

Wuxian tried not to laugh at his expression. “Oh, well,” he said, barely suppressing a giggle. “More for me.” He took a long drink and set his cup down with a clack and a satisfied sigh.

Qionglin sipped his own drink, grateful for the sweetness washing away the acidic tang in his mouth. They made idle chatter over their drinks, and when they were done, headed to Qionglin’s car.

“It’s nothing fancy, but it gets me around,” he said, somewhat apologetically.

Wuxian plopped into the passenger’s seat and said “No worries, I don’t even have a car.”

The drive to the zoo was short, Wuxian navigating and singing along to the radio. He reached over and casually rested his hand on Qionglin’s thigh, just above the knee. It took all his concentration not to swerve into the wrong lane. When he collected himself, he placed a hand on top of Wuxian’s and steered with the other. He felt his cheeks burning and his head felt like it was full of cotton.

They arrived soon after, bought their tickets and stood before a map, debating where to begin. They started with the African Safari section. Wuxian was a pace or two ahead of Qionglin. Qionglin took a breath and reached for Wuxian’s hand. Wuxian looked back and smiled wide. He tugged Qionglin a little closer, their shoulders bumping occasionally as they walked.

In a wide, grassy field, zebras, gazelles, and a couple of giraffes wandered about, grazing and playing.

“Did you know that a group of zebras is called a dazzle?” Qionglin asked.

“Really?” Wuxian asked, watching a baby zebra drink from a pool of water. “That’s kinda cute.”

“Yeah!” Qionglin agreed. “When they all stand together, their stripes make an optical illusion that confuses predators- thus, a dazzle.”

“Neat!” Wuxian chimed, still watching the zebra. Qionglin wasn’t sure he was listening, but he was used to that. They continued through the exhibit, snapping photos of the animals and chatting. Finally they reached the lions’ enclosure. A few lionesses were stretched lazily out on the large rocks, sunning and grooming each other. In the middle of them all lay a huge male lion with a thick mane, dozing peacefully.

“That guy knows what’s up,” Wuxian said, gesturing to the king lion.

“No kidding,” Qionglin nodded. “He just gets to loaf around surrounded by his girlfriends all day.”

“Do you know any cool stuff about lions?” Wuxian asked, looking sideways at Qionglin.

Qionglin blinked. “Wh-what?”

“Like, a group of lions is called a pride, right?” Wuxian prompted.

Oh… he was listening? Qionglin brightened. “Yeah! Um, let me think…” He pondered for a moment. “Oh! D-did you know that big cats can’t purr like house cats?”

“Really? That’s a bummer, I bet it would sound pretty cool.”

“Mm. The trade off is that little cats can’t roar. Can you imagine?” Qionglin grinned, imagining one of his farm cats roaring a tiny roar.

Wuxian squeezed his hand lightly, smiling fondly. “Well, did you know…” he leaned in to speak softly into Qionglin’s ear. “... that your smile is really cute?”

Eloquent as ever, Qionglin made a faint squeaking noise. He panicked and said, “... Did you know that the roaring sound effect used for lions in movies is actually a recording of a tiger? Lions don’t sound like that.” Shut up, dork!

But Wuxian just kept smiling at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and he led the way to the next exhibit. They walked in surprisingly comfortable silence for a while, until they came upon a life-size bronze statue of a tiger. Wuxian trotted over to it and climbed onto its back.

“Take a picture!” He called out, striking a pose. Qionglin grabbed his phone and took a few shots. “Your turn now!” Wuxian insisted, waving Qionglin over as he climbed off the tiger.

Qionglin froze. “Wha-- me? But-- um…” He cleared his throat. “I... don’t really know what to do in pictures, I always look weird.” He recalled the time his grandmother had gotten angry with him for “ruining” their family new year’s photo when he was younger. When he looked at the picture himself, he couldn’t really tell what he’d done wrong; he thought he looked the same as ever. That couldn’t have been the problem… could it?

Wuxian placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back into the present. “Well, you’re in luck,” he declared. “I happen to be an excellent photographer. I can help you with that, no problem.” Gently he steered Qionglin to the tiger.

With a resigned sigh, Qionglin swung a leg over the statue and sat, awaiting further instruction. Wuxian nudged and shifted and repositioned him, turning his shoulders this way and that, adjusting his posture until he was satisfied. He lifted Qionglin’s chin, his fingers lingering on his jawline for a breathtaking moment.

He let go and stepped back, raising his phone. “Okay, smile,” he instructed.

It was hard not to smile, looking at Wuxian. Qionglin offered a sheepish grin and an awkward wave. Wuxian snapped a few pictures, moving around the tiger, crouching and leaning to get different angles. He looked through the shots as he walked back to the tiger, a small smile curling his lips.

“Here,” he said, showing Qionglin the screen. “You look great, see?”

On the screen, Qionglin was surprised to see that he actually looked happy. Maybe even a little nice.

“Oh… wow.” He said softly. “You are good at that.”

Wuxian chided him. “Give yourself some credit! Can’t take a good picture of a bad model, after all.”

He switched to the front camera and leaned against the tiger to take some pictures together. Feeling a little bold, Qionglin wrapped an arm around Wuxian’s waist, pulling him closer and smiling wider. Wuxian laughed, delighted and pressed against him, their cheeks brushing together. He winked into the camera and snapped about a dozen photos. They pulled a few funny faces, held up peace signs and finger hearts.

“Okay, one more,” Wuxian said. They posed, smiling, both a little flushed from laughter and proximity. Wuxian counted down, and at the last second, he turned his face and planted a kiss on Qionglin’s cheek. He perfectly captured Qionglin’s stunned expression, eyes wide, lips parted in a gasp.

Qionglin turned to stare at him owlishly. No words came, no thoughts formed beyond “!!!” Wuxian had a mischievous, self-satisfied look in his eye, smiling coyly.

A tiny voice in the back of Qionglin’s mind whispered actions speak louder than words. On impulse, Qionglin closed his eyes, leaned in and kissed Wuxian right on the lips. It was clumsy and awkward, their noses bumping together. But Wuxian leaned into it and took the lead, cupping Qionglin’s cheek in one hand, the other bracing against the tiger statue. His lips were soft and warm, they tasted faintly of cherry lip balm. Qionglin could smell his cologne, subtle and spicy.

They parted finally and Wuxian pressed their foreheads together. “I’ve been thinking about doing that all day,” he admitted with a quiet chuckle, his voice soft and low, his breath tickling Qionglin’s face.

Qionglin swallowed heavily. “M-me too…” he whispered, only just realizing it himself. Wuxian pecked him on the nose and pulled away, sliding a hand down Qionglin’s arm and grasping his hand. Qionglin slid off the back of the statue and sidled up closer to Wuxian as they continued on. He felt tipsy now, his face hot, his heart skipping, butterflies in his stomach-- but he was walking on air. Is that what I’ve been missing out on all this time? He sighed contentedly and laced his fingers through Wuxian’s.

A while later, Wuxian asked, “So, obviously you’re an animal lover, but what’s your favorite?”

“Hmm,” Qionglin considered for a moment. “I like almost every animal, actually. B-but if I had to pick, it’d probably be cats. I’ve always liked them, and they’ve always liked me. I dunno why, though… Anyway, what about you?”

Wuxian didn’t even have to think about it. “Rabbits, hands down,” he said. “They’re just too cute. And so soft! I wish I could have one, but I don’t think there’s enough room in my apartment.” He pouted a little.

“We have rabbits on the farm!” Qionglin said, a little too loudly. He cleared his throat and adjusted his volume. “M-my cousin raises them for wool, and as pets. Maybe… you’d like to come see them sometime?” He ventured.

Wuxian’s eyes lit up. “Can I really?” He asked, excitement plain on his face.

“S-sure! I could show you around too, and you could see what farm life is like. You could meet the rabbits, and the chickens, and we could h-harvest something and I could make dinner. Food tastes better when you pick it yourself. If-- if you want, that is.” Qionglin fidgeted with the zipper of his jacket, and looked hopefully up at Wuxian.

“Yeah,” he said, his expression soft and affectionate now. “I’d love to.”

#my writing #my art #ningxian #wei wuxian #wen ning #modern au #farmer's market au #first date #first kiss #mdzs fic #mai luobo!

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cinaja · 4 years

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Before the Wall part 9

An acotar fanfic that takes place during the time of the War. For the summary and the entire fic, click here

Disclaimer: The world and the characters in acotar belong to sjm

---

When Rhys opens the door, the first thing he notices is that he isn't alone in his room.

His hand shoots to his dagger, he mentally checks his shields. In the Illyrian camps, a few of his fellow soldiers liked ambushing him and the others and Rhys trusts the High Fae of the Hewn City no more than the Illyrians.

"Who's there?", he calls into the room and pulls the door shut behind him.

"Me", a soft voice replies and Az steps out of the shadows.

Rhys curses. "Shit, Az. You want me to have a heart attack?"

"Your father can't know I'm here. He forbid me from seeking you out."

Rhys frowns. "Is everything alright? Are you..."

"I'm fine", Az says, but there are shadows in his eyes that weren't there when they last saw each other. What is his father forcing him to do? Az continues, "It's you I'm worried about."

"Why?", Rhys asks, a cold knot forming in his stomach.

"Your father. He feels threatened by you - by us. You are almost as powerful as he is, and with us as your friends... He fears you might try taking the throne."

Rhys nods slowly. He should have seen it coming. He pushed his father too far - their argument a week ago was likely the last straw.

"What about you, then? Mor and Cass? Is he after you too?"

Az shakes his head. "I'm too... useful." He practically snarls the word. "He won't harm me. And Mor is safe on the Continent. I don't know why, but that emissary, Miryam, has taken an interest in her and your father won't risk crossing her. Cass might be in danger, though."

Rhys nods, relief and worry warring in him. "What can I do?"

"Keep a low profile", Az says, "You father will likely send you and Cass to battle at the coast. Whatever you do, don't draw any more attention to yourself."

Without another word, he vanishes, leaving Rhys alone in his empty room.

----

Three days after Drakon's council voted in favour of joining the war, their decision remains secret, both to their allies and enemies.

Drakon sits next to Sinna and watches another group of soldiers try out for the army

With the looming war, there are plenty of volunteers who wish to fight and support Erithia's standing army. (An army that, on its own, is rather impressive already. Not the biggest on the Continent, not by far, but well-trained and sizeable enough to be significant in this war.)

"That one's good", Sinna comments and gives an approving nod to a soldier who just completed his trial flight.

Neither Drakon nor Sinna are strictly needed for this, but as Prince and General of Erithia, they are expected to watch at least a part of the proceedings. Besides, they both have a personal connection to one of today's participants.

Steps approach and Drakon turns around to find his emissary standing behind him. The male bows and says, "Ravenia sent another letter demanding we choose a side. And the Alliance wants to send an emissary. They heard you are raising your armies."

Drakon sighs. "Can you delay them again? We only need two more days."

"Not without reason. You know the Queen."

Yes, Drakon does. He thinks of the statues on the mountain where the Seraphim honour their dead, of the family he lost.

"Why does she even want to marry me?", he asks, "Honestly, I don't get it. She doesn't even seem to like me - which I take as a compliment - and I never made a secret of my opinion on slavery."

His emissary just shrugs. "I don't know, Your Grace. But I could...", he hesitates. "If I let it leak that you have trouble controlling your council, it could work, but it would..."

"Make me look like an incompetent fool in front of the entire Continent?", Drakon asks wryly, "Do it, then."

The idea doesn't sit well with him, but at least the impression won't last long. Because in two days, if all goes well, they will take the Callian Pass from Rask. It is one of the only passages across the mountain range that divides the Continent and easily one of the most important strategic locations in this war. Unfortunately, it has belonged to Rast for the past eight centuries.

So they are really going to need the moment of surprise on their side.

Drakon has already written the letter declaring war on the Loyalists and asking the Alliance to be allowed to join as well as a rather personal and insulting note addressed to Ravenia, but they won't be sent until the last moment.

His emissary bows and leaves. Drakon turns back to the try-outs.

"Have I told you already that I love your plan? Taking the Callian Pass from Rask by attacking without warning", Sinna says, "Insane, but sneaky. Hard to believe you came up with it."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence", Drakon mutters.

Truth is, he doesn't really feel good about invading Rask without warning. It's not the honourable thing to do. But, as Sinna told him in her usual brisk style, honour doesn't win wars, especially if your enemy has none.

They watch the next would-be soldiers in silence, until Sinna says, "You know, now that we are officially going to war, we should probably try to cut any unnecessary drains to our resources."

"Such as?" Drakon has a bad feeling about where this is going.

"Such as having our spies look for that slave girl you talked to once. If I didn't know better, I'd say the rumours are true and you have a thing for her."

Drakon glares. "She was a child and completely terrified of me. Do you honestly think..." He cuts himself off and shakes his head. "I just want to thank her. Because, you know, she's the reason I'm not married to Ravenia right now."

He can imagine the girl won't be terribly interested in ever seeing him again. But Drakon needs to know she's alright. After that, he's going to leave and never seek her out again.

"Well, regardless, looking for one half-Fae female without even knowing her name is both hopeless and a waste of resources."

"Fine", Drakon snaps, "I'll lower the priority of her case." He nods towards the try-outs. "How long until it's Nephelle's turn?"

"Two more", Sinna replies, suddenly tense.

Nephelle wants to join the army - wants to fight for her country and for human freedom. Badly.

But the harsh truth is, she would never have even made it through the examination that precedes the try-outs. She is too short, her right wing too small to pass the physical requirements. So Sinna asked Drakon to pull some strings for her lover. (Abuse of power, technically. But Nephelle is his friend and it isn't a big abuse. Still morally wrong. Why does he always end up in these situations?)

"She's going to make it", Sinna says, a stubborn set to her jaw.

Drakon nods, even though he knows Nephelle's chances are slim. It's not that he doesn't believe in her - Nephelle is probably the most strong-willed Seraphim he ever met - but Sinna told him that she never managed to reach the requirements in training. Not once.

She still wants to try, though.

Drakon watches as the a group of competitors exit the ring and claps politely. Nephelle steps into the arena with the next group. She holds her head high, wings drawn tightly to her body.

The beginning of the try out goes fine. Nephelle hits the centre of the target each time, surpassing the requirements by far. But then, the main part of the try out begins. Flying two miles, carrying weapons and a Seraphim shield.

Nephelle is barely able to take off with the shield. Once she is in the air, her smaller right wing can't support the weight and she keeps almost falling out of the air.

It is almost painful to watch. Because Nephelle refuses to give up. Even as her feet almost brush the ground, even as everyone but her has long finished, she refuses to give up.

"Come on", Sinna whispers.

But Nephelle doesn't make it. She doesn't even reach the end of the race. Two rounds before the finish line, her right wing gives in and she falls to the ground. Sinna is on her feet in an instant, rushing for her.

Nephelle just drops her shield and weapons and walks out of the arena, wings lowered and dragging over the ground behind her. Sinna runs after her.

The arena is silent. No one laughs. Not a single person.

Drakon wishes he could run after Nephelle and Sinna as well. But he has to stay at least a moment longer. He is the Prince and can't just leave whenever he feels like it. So he remains to watch one more group. Then, he thanks all participants and excuses himself.

He finds Sinna and Nephelle in a small room behind the arena. As he enters, Nephelle just withdraws her hand from Sinna's.

"All I want is to fight for what I believe in and I don't even get a chance!"

Nephelle is crying, he realises with a start. He doesn't think he ever saw her cry before, not even when some people whispered 'cripple' behind her back. (Not that anyone ever called her that twice, at least not when Drakon or Sinna were around to hear.)

Drakon knocks on the door and the females dart around to him. He smiles at Nephelle.

"If you ask me, you'd be wasted in the army, anyways", he says.

Nephelle doesn't smile back at him. She looks so... hopeless. "Yes, maybe I can wash the soldier's clothes. That's about all I'm good for."

Sinna opens her mouth to object, but Drakon beats her to it, "Come on, now, you don't believe that. You know more about nature and geography than anyone else and I've seen your drawings. You're brilliant."

"So I'll just draw our enemies to death?"

"No”, Drakon says, "I was thinking you'd be exceptionally well-suited to being a cartographer. For that, you need some prior experience because, believe it or not, it's actually harder than wielding a sword, so we've had a hard time finding people for it. Maybe you can help us out."

Nephelle blinks at him. Then, slowly, she begins to smile

"Yes", she says, "I think I'd like that."

"Great", Drakon says, "saves me the headache of finding anyone else to do the job."

It's good to see that sometimes, his plans actually work.

----

Miryam barely manages to talk to Jurian the day after the battle. Well, they talk plenty, but only about the camp organisation.

So after spending the next night trying to figure out the 'Language of the Universe' (which makes Continental politics look easy by comparison) she invites herself along on a patrol she knows Jurian is leading.

They aren't exactly alone, but the nine soldiers wo accompany them are kind enough to keep their distance. Miryam with her Fae heritage can still hear their conversation, but she doubts they understand what her and Jurian are talking about.

"Did you know that Mor started training?", Jurian asks.

Miryam nods and leans forward to pat her horse's neck. "She told me. She thinks that you're an excellent teacher."

"I could teach you, too", Jurian says a bit too casually. She`d bet that he only brought up Mor to suggest training again.

"It's a nice offer, Jur, but I neither want nor need to fight."

Miryam does carry a dagger, but that's just to keep Jurian from worrying. He hates that she doesn't know how to defend herself, but she hates the idea of killing another person. (There are a few people she'd make an exception for, but she doubts that she'll ever be in the position to kill Ravenia or Artax.)

"We're in the middle of a war", Jurian says drily.

"And I'm a healer. And a member of the Alliance's council, an emissary. There are several ways to contribute to the war effort and not all of them involve wielding a sword."

Jurian sighs. "I know that. You think I don't know? And I don't want you to fight in battles, but... learn to defend yourself. Just in case." When Miryam still hesitates, he adds, "Please."

How can she say no to that?

"Alright. But just the basics." At least it means she gets to spend more time with Jurian.

"Great. Let's meet at dawn each day. One hour."

Miryam smiles in spite of herself. "You really did plan that, didn't you?"

"Never go to battle unprepared. I even had two back up plans prepared." Jurian laughs. "You agreed more quickly than I thought."

Miryam smiles. Cauldron, she really missed him. (If she's being honest, it's not the camp that has become home, but rather the man besides her. She wonders if that's what love feels like.)

At that moment, she notices a movement in the bushes next to them. She lightly pulls at her horses' reins to get it to slow down and slides out of the saddle. Something is hanging between two trees, something that's moving, but she can't quite make it out.

"What's that?", Miryam asks.

Jurian frowns. "I can't see anything."

For a second, Miryam thinks that this is her magic playing tricks on her, that she once again sees something that no one else can see. But then, she remembers that she can see much further than Jurian thanks to her mixed heritage and he likely just can't make out the movement she noticed.

Without another word, Miryam rushes off into the bushes. She can hear branches snap behind her as Jurian follows her. After a few steps, she reaches a net, hanging between two trees. Inside, a falcon is caught, its feather a beautiful shade of burnt red.

"It's a trap", Jurian says from behind her, "Likely set up by some peasants."

Miryam nods and draws her dagger. Carefully, she approaches the falcon.

"Easy", she whispers, "I want to help you."

"You'll get your eyes hacked out", Jurian warns.

But the falcon holds perfectly still as Miryam reaches out, although its amber eyes remain fixed on the dagger as she carefully begins to cut through the net trapping it. As more of the strands come loose, the falcon begins to sway. It screeches and tries to flap its wings. Hastily, Miryam holds out an arm for it to hold onto. (Not her best idea. She's sure the falcon doesn't mean to hurt her, but its claws still cut through her sleeve and into her arm.) Miryam grits her teeth and cuts the last bit of rope

"What now?", Jurian asks, "Its wing is broken, it won't be able to fly or survive like this."

Indeed, the falcon's left wing is hanging in an odd angle. Miryam bites her lip. The idea of this bird never being able to fly again is horribly sad. (When Miryam was younger, she dreamed of growing wings and flying far away.)

"I'm taking it back to the camp. Maybe I can heal it."

She shoots the net a mournful look. What if the person who set is up is close to starvation? She finds a gold mark in her pocket and puts it on the ground next to the ruined net.

Jurian shakes his head. "You're incorrigible. Here." He pulls off one of his leather gloves and hands it to Miryam. "Put that on or you won't be able to hold a blade tomorrow for training."

"How thoughtful." Miryam grins at him.

She puts on the glove and lets the falcon climb on her other arm. She can tell the bird is trying to be careful, but it still hurts when it pulls its talons out of her arm and hops on her other hand.

"It must have been trained", Jurian says.

Miryam is sure it isn't. But it's better if Jurian thinks so, so she just nods and turns back towards their horses, the falcon surprisingly heavy on her arm.

----

Rhys didn't think he'd be this nervous. After all these years of training, after everything he survived in the Illyrian mountains, he never thought his first battle would scare him this much.

Cass is nervous, too. Rhys doubts any of the other Illyrians in their group notice, though. Because Cassian is all brave words and laughter. He jokes around and makes light-hearted comments. But Rhys knows Cass well enough to see that the louder he is, the more nervous he feels deep down.

It is not Rhys who leads this assault, but Devlon. And although Rhys knows that this was meant to be a slight by his father, ha thanks the Cauldron for it.

His first battle. He could not imagine being the one leading it.

A whistle sounds, warning them that a group of enemies is approaching.

"Remember to keep your head down", Rhys whispers to Cassian, Azriel's warning ringing in his ears.

Cass presses his lips together in annoyance. Rhys can see he hates the idea of not fighting to his fullest, of risking their companions' lives in doing so. But he nods.

From their waiting place on the mountain side, Rhys can now see the enemy approach, walking through the valley in neat, organised lines. They wait until the soldiers are well below them. Then, a horn blast sound, giving the sign to attack.

Rhys flares his wings and leaps into the air.

His first kill is a High Fae male from Spring, who looks almost surprised as he collapses. (It is not really his first kill, of course. He killed plenty during the Rite. Still, battle feels different. More chaotic. Both more and less horrific at the same time.)

Rhys drops deep into battle calm. Any emotions become distant, irrelevant. But even as he kills his way through battle lines, even as his power is a roaring ocean beneath him, he keeps a tight hold on his magic. Doesn't use it beyond basic shielding.

The first minutes go well. The Illyrians outnumber their opponents and they have the moment of surprise on their side.

But then, the tide starts turning.

The Hybern Fae have magic - more than their spies reported and far more than the Illyrians. One High Fae lifts his hand, grey power flares and a dozen Illyrians turn to dust. Rhys creates shields, uses his magic to protect as many soldiers as he can. But still, he doesn't use it to smash their opponents to dust. Still, he uses nothing but his sword to attack.

Do not draw attention to yourself.

Around him, the corpses add up. Loyalist Fae, but just as many Illyrians.

Cassian makes the decision a second before Rhys does.

His siphons flare, red power blasting a hole into the enemy lines. A second later, Rhys follows. He stretches out a hand and darkness leashes out. Soldiers start screaming.

It is over in the span of minutes.

Over the corpses, Rhys exchanges a look with Cassian. Both of them are wide-eyed and panting.

Rhys spends the following hours helping with the wounded, collecting the dead. He wonders how many of these soldiers might still be alive if he had acted sooner, if he had not tried to avoid his father's wrath. He tries to memorise the faces of the dead. He is sure they will haunt him for the rest of his life.

And silently, he swears to never let his fear of his father stop him from doing what's right again.

----

Miryam names the falcon Kiel, because that's what its cries sound like. (Helion tells her that the name means 'free' in Old Landian and Miryam nods like she knew that already.)

It is the middle of the night. Miryam once again lit her candle and sits perched over the book. Kiel is watching her, his amber eyes glowing in the dark. Miryam feeds the bird a strap of meat she got from the kitchen.

"What do you think?", she asks, "Should I do this?"

"Kieeel", the falkon replies, which could mean anything ranging from 'Why are you asking me, you stupid human' to 'I want more meat'. Miryam feeds him another strap of meat and gets up

"Wish me luck", she says. (At this point, she truly hopes that animals understand her. Otherwise, she is making a complete fool of herself.)

The spell is easy, the book claims. Well, it is still second grade, because the book's former owner deemed first grade spells too simple to write them down. Miryam has memorised the words, the instructions. The book claims that for a spell as simple as this, no one with witch blood would need anything but the words, but Miryam would rather not bet her life on that so she follows the instructions by the letter.

She takes out a bit of chalk and uses it to draw a circle on the ground, symbols lining its edges. Then, she puts up four candles and adds a few bone shards for good measure.

She steps into the circle and lights the candles. Then, she begins speaking.

The words taste strange on her tongue, burn in her throat. All around her, the strings start glowing more brightly. New ones appear, wrapping around her.

And suddenly, Miryam understands why they call it 'Language of the Universe'. Because it is the language of the strings and each word Miryam speaks makes them move, like she is giving them orders. Her power is thrumming through her, light dances through the room and creates a net wrapping around the tent.

It is beautiful.

But Miryam doesn't mean to actually set up a ward around her tent - it would be hard to explain - so she starts reciting the second spell, the one that's supposed to break the wards. Indeed, the net begins to loosen, lines withdrawing with her every word. It is far easier than she thought. Just like that, the wards are gone.

But her power still rises. The fabric of the tent starts flapping on a fathom wind, Kiel shrikes.

Miryam panics. She tries to call her power back, to clamp down her hold on it once again, but it won't obey her. The flames of the candles flicker higher, until they almost reach the tent's ceiling, trapping her in a ring of flames.

"Stop", she whispers, "Please, stop."

It doesn't. Miryam feels like she's standing in the middle of a river, her magic tugging at her like a strong current and she cannot make it stop. She pushes against the magic. It pushes back and for a moment, Miryam thinks that she's going to lose this battle.

But then, her magic gives in.

It rushes away from her in a wave, further and further until Miryam can breathe again. The candles flicker and go out. She lets herself slide to the ground.

Her head hurts, but at least she doesn't feel like her body is on fire. At least it went better than that first time. Miryam is almost relieved.

Until shouts start ringing out all through the camp. She scrambles to her feet, stares at the circle on the ground, undeniable proof of what she did.

She grabs the candles and bones and shoves them into a bag that she flings under her bed. Hands shaking, she puts the book back into its hiding place and wipes away the chalk. Then, she rushes out of her tent.

Soldiers are running around outside. Miryam catches one of them by the arm. "What happened?", she asks

"I don't know, but there was this tremor. Really creepy." He shakes his head. "Magic really is a curse."

A good summary. Miryam lets him go and runs off to the centre of the commotion, which is where she'll likely find Jurian. Indeed, he is standing in the centre of a group of soldiers, trying to calm them. When he sees Miryam, he waves her closer.

"Thank the Cauldron, you're here", he whispers, "Someone shattered our wards, the soldiers are panicking. I need you to help calm them."

Only then does Miryam notice that the strings forming a net over the camp are gone.

Oh Mother. She did this. And the worst part is, it wasn't even hard.

----

A/N: Let me tell you, trying to keep to canon is hard! Like the fact that Drakon is looking for Miryam for three years without ever finding or meeting her (which I'm having a bit of a hard time explaining, but hey, just about a year to go)

Well, anyways, this part was rather slow. Next time: Rhys has trouble with his father (what's new), Mor gets used to life on the Continent and Drakon goes through with his plan

@starswhoanswer

#miryam #jurian #drakon #morrigan #mor #before the wall #the war #fanfic

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miguel-manbemel · 4 years

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Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 27: A Side is Born Part 2: Grown and Lost

New episode of this fic inspired on Sanders Sides by Thomas Sanders, Joan S. and the Foster Dawg Team. Thank you so much for the good reception that the previous episode had. Now, the story continues, right where it ended. Each episode is gonna feature in the beginning a quick reminder from the most important events in the previous episode, with the fun fact that these reminders are embedded in the story and are of an unique style for each part. Nedless to say, these reminders are full of spoilers from these previous episodes if you haven’t read them. May you enjoy this second part of the story and until next week.

WARNINGS: Romantic prinxiety and logicality. Some light innuendo. Fair warning that in the last part of this episode, the mood switches to strong angst.

SYNOPSIS: In front of the others, Chris has started growing at great speed and they wonder why is it happening. In the middle of this, fearing that they will never know him as a child, Roman decides to take the boy to Sandersia so that Ira and Roland get the news of the newborn before that newborn is an adult himself.

EPISODE INDEX

[a sign reading “In the previous episode..." appears. Flashback images from the previous episode are shown while Roman’s voice is heard off-screen]

NARRATOR-ROMAN: [off-voice] Today has been a memorable day in so many senses. It all started this morning when Virgil suddenly felt not so good…

VIRGIL: I didn’t want to concern you, Roman. Probably it’s just something I’ve eaten that’s not agreeing with my stomach.

ROMAN: Still, my duty as your husband is taking care of you when you’re feeling bad. I thought we had agreed on not hiding things from each other.

VIRGIL: Don’t worry, Roman, I’m sure this is not serious.

NARRATOR-ROMAN: [off-voice] But very soon, things started spiraling out of control.

THOMAS: Heh… It’s funny. If you weren’t a man I would say that you’ve got all the symptoms of being pregnant.

[Virgil slowly lowers his hands from his face and looks at Thomas with a face of horror]

THOMAS: [serious] Wait… don’t tell me that you can…

VIRGIL: Oh… my… goodness… [putting his hands on his belly] For the love of Gerard Way…

THOMAS: But… this is not a Sims game! Since when can a person with male reproductive organs get pregnant!?

NARRATOR-ROMAN: [off-screen] Yep, surprise. We had a bun in the oven. Although it looked more like a micro-wave oven, cause the bun was cooking really fast…

VIRGIL: [in pain, putting his hand on his belly] Aw!

ROMAN: [scared] What was that, Virgil! Are you okay?

VIRGIL: I… I think so… He moved inside me, and kicked me really hard from my insides. It was so weird…

ROMAN: Seriously, Logan. How can this go so fast? This morning he was having the first nausea and now he looks as if he was six months pregnant already!

LOGAN: Well, as I told you, we’re not human. Maybe instead of nine months, Virgil’s pregnancy will be only nine hours. Probably less, judging how fast it’s going.

NARRATOR-ROMAN: [off-voice] And before we could know how, Virgil was lying on the couch in labor.

LOGAN: The next thing coming out of there will be the baby. Now, one last time, use all your might you have left and push as if tomorrow would never come. Now!

VIRGIL: [pushing] NNNNNGGGGGHHHHHAAAAAAA!!!

LOGAN: Here it comes!

[A bright magenta smoke comes out of Virgil’s body. As it comes out forming a magenta cloud, Virgil’s belly shrinks until it returns to its normal flat form, while he shows a face of huge alleviation. Then, the cloud floats to Virgil’s chest and after some seconds, it disappears, to reveal a little baby dressed only with magenta diapers. The baby starts crying]

LOGAN: Well, it’s done. Good job, Virgil.

VIRGIL: [with his eyes full of tears] I… I… look at him, Roman.

ROMAN: [crying] I’m looking at him, Virgil. He’s as handsome as his dad. And I mean you.

NARRATOR-ROMAN: [off-voice] And we thought that was it. We had our newborn son, Chris, we were set to live happily ever after as a family… and that was all. But there was another surprise on board for the evening…

VIRGIL: Um… guys…

ROMAN: What?

VIRGIL: It looks like our little baby is not so… little… anymore… Look…

[Virgil takes Chris out of the cradle. Except that it is now a three year old boy]

CHRIS: [giggling and poking Virgil’s nose] Dad, I want pizza!

THOMAS AND ROMAN: [overlapping] Whaaat!?

[image of narrator Roman looking at the camera]

NARRATOR-ROMAN: And so here we are. What’s happened to our son? What is gonna happen next. Stay tuned, everyone.

VIRGIL: [off-screen] Roman, will you cut it out and come here already!?

NARRATOR-ROMAN: Sorry, Virge. I’m going. Rolling title screen.

[intro sequence]

THOMAS: What… has happened?

VIRGIL: Are you asking me? I don’t know how this works, Thomas, this is my first son.

CHRIS: Dad, I want pizza!

ROMAN: Don’t you think you’re too young for pizza, young boy?

[Chris looks at Roman, then his eyes get full of tears]

CHRIS: [crying] I want pizzaaaaa!

THOMAS: Well, I guess now I know which Side has inherited my passion for pizza.

VIRGIL: We’re gonna need help. Dad! Logan! Could you come here, please?

[Logan and Patton are risen up in Patton’s spot. They are kissing, unaware of their surroundings]

ROMAN: [saying the actual word] Ahem…

[Logan and Roman stop kissing and look scared at the others]

LOGAN: [angry] Hey, do you think this is an appropriate time to call!? We were… [looking nervously at Patton who is just blushing and looking away] busy!

THOMAS: I’m sorry, guys. But this is another… emergency. Look.

[Thomas points at Chris who is still crying next to Virgil]

PATTON: Who’s that boy?

VIRGIL: It’s Chris, dad. Your grandson.

PATTON: What?

ROMAN: He has just aged three years in a matter of a second and we don’t know how.

LOGAN: Oh, wow… I didn’t expect that…

PATTON: Why is he crying?

VIRGIL: He wants pizza. But I don’t think he’s old enough to eat it. I mean, he’s only five hours old. It could sit bad in his stomach. He was drinking his formula just half an hour ago.

PATTON: Young boy, crying is not the way to get the things that you want. If you want to get something, you must learn to say “Please” and “Thank you”. And even so, sometimes we just can’t get what we want and we must learn to deal with it.

[Chris stops crying, then looks at Patton]

CHRIS: [with a cute innocent voice] Please, grandpa. Can I get some pizza?

PATTON: [squeeing] He’s called me grandpa! Of course you can, kiddo. Take all the pizza you want!

CHRIS: [happy smile] Thank you, grandpa!

VIRGIL: Wait, dad, I don’t think that…

[But Chris has already jumped to the pizza and started devouring it]

ROMAN: Oh, my gosh…

VIRGIL: He looks like the cookie monster…

[Suddenly Chris stops eating. He stands still with a face of nausea]

VIRGIL: What is it, Chris? Are you okay? I told you not to eat that pizza!

[Chris burps loudly. As the burp goes out, he starts growing]

VIRGIL: Look! He’s growing again!

[In a matter of seconds, Chris looks like a twelve-year-old boy]

ROMAN: He eats and then grows? Perhaps I should have called him Alice.

PATTON: Like Alice in Wonderland? Hey, think! If he drinks some milk, the kid may shrink back. Oooh… I love alliteration.

CHRIS: Guys, why are you all staring at me? [looks at himself] Oh… I see, it’s because I’m still in these diapers. Hold on, I’ll fix that.

[Chris points at himself and his clothes change to a medieval princely outfit, similar to Prince Phillip from Sleepy Beauty, but the suit is white with a red belt, and the sleeves are dark purple. The cape is magenta and has a hood. He sports Roman’s shield on the chest, but with the background in magenta and a stormy cloud over the castle]

CHRIS: That’s more like it.

ROMAN: [with a smile of emotional joy] Oh, my God… You look… majestic!

CHRIS: Thank you, father. If I’m a prince, I must look like it.

VIRGIL: [same emotional joy] And you even carry a hood! I’m so proud!

CHRIS: I knew you’d like it, dad.

LOGAN: Hmm… Not only he’s growing physically at great speed. He’s also growing mentally. At this rate, he’ll look just as adult as anyone of us in a short time… Chris.

CHRIS: Yes, Logan?

LOGAN: Would you mind if I performed a check on you?

CHRIS: What for, grandpa?

LOGAN: Because… wait, grandpa?

CHRIS: You’re Patton’s boyfriend, aren’t you? That makes you my grandfather-in-law.

LOGAN: Well, technically not until we marry and… wait, we’re deviating. I need to make sure that you’re in perfect condition and that this quick growth is normal.

CHRIS: Okay, grandpa, help yourself.

[Logan gets a little nervous over being called grandpa again, but he puts himself together and places his hand on Chris’ chest. Logan starts shaking for a couple of seconds, then takes his hand off]

LOGAN: I see…

VIRGIL: What?

LOGAN: Chris is totally fine. There’s nothing wrong with him at all. This quick growth is perfectly natural.

ROMAN: But there must be a reason why he’s growing up so fast. We didn’t grow up that quickly.

PATTON: Well, as far as I remember, I was always an adult, so…

LOGAN: Yes, but that’s because you chose to have an adult shape on purpose, or so you said.

PATTON: To be honest, I don’t remember at all, Logan. What I said is my own explanation to that fact. When I met all of you, I always met you sharing the same age Thomas had at that moment in life, but back then, I was already an adult. When I try to go back in my memories, there’s always a moment when everything goes blurry until there’s nothing more.

LOGAN: That’s what always happens, Patton. No human can remember the first two to three years from their existence at all and their memories are blurry until they get around 6 or more. And guys, it’s true that we all took our time to grow up, but you’re forgetting one important detail.

VIRGIL: What?

LOGAN: Chris was born as a baby while Thomas was an adult. It was only natural, as Virgil would have exploded if he had to hold an adult body inside of him. But that doesn’t change the fact that we, as Sides of Thomas, must share with him, among other things, the same age. Chris was born as a baby, but now he’s bound to grow up at a fast pace to catch up to Thomas’ age. Then, he’ll start aging normally like all of us, at Thomas’ same pace.

THOMAS: Oh… Is that all?

LOGAN: Yes. What did you expect?

THOMAS: I don’t know, things with you don’t tend to be so simple.

CHRIS: Are you calling me simple, Thomas?

THOMAS: No, I wasn’t calling you…

CHRIS: [pulling out a classic medieval sword and a shield decorated with the same insignia on his chest, speaking with a theatrical melodramatic voice] Cause I could pull out my sword and challenge you to a duel, my good sir!

LOGAN: [sighs] He’s just as dramatic as his father.

ROMAN: [squeeing] He even has a shield of his own! Oh, my God, you look gorgeous! And what is also great is that now I’ll have someone to practice fencing with. [hopping] Oh, my goodness, I’m so happy right now!

VIRGIL: [smirks] Be careful, my love. You’re gonna slip on the puddle of your drool.

ROMAN: I suddenly had an idea. Since it’s clear that we’re too excited to go to bed right now…

LOGAN: [looking at Patton] Well, I was really excited to go to bed a moment ago…

ROMAN: [beat] You’ll have time for that later. I think we should take Chris to Sandersia, so that he meets my brother Roland and Ira. They don’t even know that he’s been born and I can’t wait to see their faces.

THOMAS: Isn’t it a little late for a journey, though? It’s eleven o’clock, and I’m a little tired, you know? Couldn’t we leave this for tomorrow? It’ll be Sunday, and I have all the day free of compromises.

ROMAN: [begging] Oh, come on! I want them to see him while he’s still a child! If we wait, he’ll be an adult already, and it just wouldn’t have the same surprise effect! I don’t wanna miss it! Pleaaase!

THOMAS: [sighs] Okay, if it’s so important to you, okay.

ROMAN: [hopping] Yayyy!

THOMAS: Are you good to walk, Virge? You’ve just given birth some hours ago.

VIRGIL: Oh, I think I’ll be fine, Thomas. I don’t have any pains and I feel strong enough.

LOGAN: You don’t need to fear for Virgil, Thomas. His recovery will be a lot quicker than in normal physical childbirths. If he doesn’t go through too intense physical activities at least for tonight, he’ll be fine, and tomorrow he’ll be good as gravy.

THOMAS: Okay.

ROMAN: Then it’s settled!

THOMAS: Okay… Let’s go to Sandersia, then.

[All of them sink down and rise up in Roman’s room, then they head to Sandersia. It’s nighttime over there too. They all get in the royal carriage, always waiting at the door as usual, and head to the royal castle. As usual too, the carriage arrives in no time]

ROMAN: Well, here we are. Oh, the door is locked? That’s weird.

LOGAN: Weird? What did you expect, a welcome committee? You didn’t announce our visit and it’s freaking nighttime!

ROMAN: Not for long, though.

[Roman rises both hands. In a matter of seconds, the sky turns blue and the sun rises over the sea]

LOGAN: [a little blinded by the sudden sunlight] That’s cheating.

[Roman knocks the door using the knocker several times]

VOICE: [from inside] Okay, okay… why the rush?

[the noise of locks opening from inside are heard and the door opens. Ira comes outside wearing a green pajama

IRA: Oh, it’s you. When I told you to come for a visit, I didn’t mean for you to come in the middle of the… [noticing the sun is in the sky, confused] …morning? Did I oversleep? What time is it?

ROMAN: Oh, it’s twelve midnight, I just did a little tweak, so that you didn’t trip over anything in the dark.

IRA: But why? Is there any emergency of some kind?

ROMAN: Yes, and no. I just want Roland and you to meet someone.

IRA: Someone? [noticing the presence of Chris] Oh, good morning… I mean evening… I mean… whatever.

CHRIS: Good evening, sir.

IRA: And who is this lad, if I may ask, Roman?

ROMAN: I’m not telling yet, it’s a surprise. Go call my brother, please. I want you two to know who he is at the same time.

IRA: Okay. I’ll call Roland. You can wait in the throne room. Come in, make yourselves a home.

ROMAN: Thanks, Ira.

[Roman and the others get to the throne room while Ira goes away]

THOMAS: [yawns] Roman, I’m a little sleepy. We should have waited till tomorrow.

ROMAN: Hold on a little bit, Thomothy. Soon we’ll be done. Maybe we could even sleep here if Roland lets us.

THOMAS: Is that possible for me, though? What would happen if I fell asleep while inside the Mind Palace?

LOGAN: Well, for certain we would all fall asleep with you. All except Virgil, who is the only one that, if he wants to, can resist sleep or wake up while you slumber, due to him being your fight-or-flight impulses.

CHRIS: I can do that too. A gift from my dad.

VIRGIL: Oh, that’s good to know.

THOMAS: But would Sandersia stay in place?

LOGAN: Of course, Thomas. For Sandersia to have structural problems, you would need something worse than sleep. You’d have to be almost in a coma.

THOMAS: Well, I’m not going to that extent to do the experiment, and besides I don’t want Sandersia to be damaged, so it’s good to know that. Thanks, Logan.

LOGAN: No problem.

[Roman and Ira enter the throne room. Roland is wearing a dressing coat]

ROLAND: Hi, Roman, hi guys.

ROMAN: Hi, Roland.

IRA: Okay. We’re both here. Why all the rush, Roman?

ROMAN: Well, let me introduce you to our new addition to the family. This is Chris. Chris, these are my brother Roland and our good friend Ira.

CHRIS: Good evening. Nice to meet you.

ROLAND: Nice to meet you.

IRA: Good evening.

ROMAN: I think I’m gonna let him to properly introduce himself. Okay, go ahead.

CHRIS: Well, my name is Christian Gerard Sanders. And I’m the Side of Angsty Creativity. But you can call me Chris.

ROLAND: Angsty… Creativity?

IRA: Hold on, weren’t those two concepts assigned to Virgil and you earlier? [face of realization and shock, then he smiles widely] Oh! Oh, my goodness, I get it! Congratulations, Roman!

ROLAND: What? What’s the matter?

IRA: Don’t you see? This boy is the son of Virgil and Roman! Angsty Creativity!

ROLAND: Oh, my goodness! How…? When…? Congratulations, guys!

[Roland and Ira hug Roman and Virgil, then they also give a quick hug to Chris]

ROLAND: I should have paid more attention. Of course he’s your son. His shield is a mix of both your insignias. I’m so happy to meet you, young man.

CHRIS: I’m happy to meet you too, uncle Roland.

ROLAND: Oh, that’s right. This boy is my nephew. And as your son… he’s the new heir to the throne of Sandersia! That’s great! But when did this happen?

VIRGIL: Today.

ROLAND: Today?

VIRGIL: Well, yesterday already. He was born just a few hours ago.

ROLAND: But he’s so grown-up already!

CHRIS: [suddenly showing a funny face] Oh…

ROLAND: What’s wrong?

CHRIS: If you think I’m a grown up now… wait and see…

[Chris points at his own clothes. They grow until they are of an adult size, too big for him]

ROLAND: Why would you do that?

CHRIS: [suddenly with adult voice that startles everyone] It’s happening again, I can feel it.

[Chris starts growing up in front of Roland and Ira, who watch with a stunned expression. In a matter of a few seconds he looks like an adult, and his outfit fits him perfectly]

IRA: I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe. But now… now I’ve just seen everything.

CHRIS: Well, I think the growing phase is over. Now I just have to age a little bit until I get synchronized with Thomas’ age and that will be it. Now I’m totally ready to start working as a Side of Thomas.

VIRGIL: Oh, my God… Kids grow so fast. It feels like yesterday when I was cradling you in my arms and now you’re a full grown-up man. Except that it was literally yesterday, of course.

CHRIS: It’s okay, dad. I may look like an adult, but I’m still your one day old son, ready to learn from you and father anything you’re willing to teach me to be a better Side.

VIRGIL: [bursting in tears] Why am I suddenly so emotional lately? Yesterday, I would have dismissed all these emotions as corny and now look at me. This feeling of love is so overwhelming I can barely resist it.

PATTON: [putting his hand on Virgil’s shoulder] Welcome to my world, kiddo. Nice to have you. That’s exactly how I feel about you all the time.

VOICE: [evil mocking tone] Isn’t this nice?

[everyone starts looking in all directions trying to find the source of the voice]

THOMAS: Who’s there!?

VOICE: I’ve been waiting for so long for this moment to come and finally, it’s here!

[Suddenly, Chris is surrounded by what looks like a dark bubble]

CHRIS: What gives!?

[the door opens and the Dark Master enters in, wearing a black cloak with silver ornaments on the shoulders and the hood. The dark bubble flies next to him with Chris inside]

THOMAS: You again? How many times do we have to defeat you, boy?

DARK MASTER: Long time no see, Light Master.

ROMAN: [pulling out his samurai sword] Release our son! Right now!

DARK MASTER: Release him? Oh, sure, I will release him, as soon as I’m done with him.

VIRGIL: If you touch just one hair of him, I swear…

DARK MASTER: Oh, don’t worry emo, I’m not going to harm him. I need him in one piece for my plans.

VIRGIL: [progressively angrier and more hysterical as he speaks] What plans? What are you going to do to him? Let him go, you bast**!

DARK MASTER: Let him go? After all the time I’ve been waiting for one of his kind to appear? Never.

PATTON: What’s so special about him? I don’t understand.

DARK MASTER: [giggles evilly] I certainly did a good job with you, Patton.

PATTON: What?

DARK MASTER: Erasing your memories was so easy. It wasn’t a perfect work, but nevertheless it worked. You wouldn’t even try to get your memories back. You just got contented and started behaving like the stupid father figure you are right now.

PATTON: I don’t understand…

VIRGIL: Neither do I, but I don’t care! Release him!

DARK MASTER: It’s your only fault that I’m taking your son right now, Virgil! You brought this onto him!

VIRGIL: What?

DARK MASTER: The original plan was to take you instead of him. You were born for that only reason. But you had to escape to the Light Realm and ruin everything.

VIRGIL: What would you know about my birth?

DARK MASTER: Oh, everything. I know everything about it. I even had you in my arms not long after you were born. You looked so tiny, so vulnerable. So suitable. You just needed to grow until you were mature enough. But Patton had to be a goody daddy and the Light Master had to ruin it all!

THOMAS: Me? What…?

VIRGIL: What is he talking about, dad?

PATTON: [confused] I promise I don’t know, kiddo. I don’t remember…

DARK MASTER: Perhaps I can help with that.

[The Dark Master points at Patton. A light blue sphere appears on his hand]

DARK MASTER: This, on my hand, are your stolen memories. You’re no longer a worthy enemy, so I won’t be needing them anymore, and I need to make room for… another procedure. Here, take them back.

[the light-blue ball is projected at light-speed and impacts into Patton’s head, making him walk two steps back. The light enters inside Patton’s head, who holds his head with both hands and groans as if he was suffering the worst headache ever, as if his head was about to explode right there.]

VIRGIL: [scared] Dad!

LOGAN: Patton!

[in a few moments, Patton adopts a serene face. He stops holding his head and looks fiercely at the Dark Master]

PATTON: [serious deep voice, never heard before from him] Now I remember… everything.

DARK MASTER: Good. Then now you know it all. How does it feel? Please, tell me that it hurts you, it would be so rewarding for me.

PATTON: Yes, I remember. Yes, it hurts. And no, you won’t get away with your plans.

DARK MASTER: [evil voice] I challenge you to stop me. If you want to find me, you know where to look for me… sweetie. [back to an unconcerned, mocking voice, to Roman] Oh, by the way, thank you Roman, I couldn’t have done this without you.

ROMAN: What?

DARK MASTER: If you hadn’t entered Sandersia with Chris, I wouldn’t have been able to reach him, and if you hadn’t turned the night into day, I wouldn’t have known you were here, allowing me to come here to check what you were up to. What a pleasant surprise you gave me when you introduced your boy. Thank you for your invaluable help.

ROMAN: [face of remorse] What have I done…?

[the Dark Master starts levitating and so does the dark bubble holding Chris in. Chris shows a face of fear for the first time and starts banging at the bubble, desperately trying to break it]

CHRIS: [scared whining] Father! Dad! Help me! Don’t let him take me!

VIRGIL: [in tears] You bast**! He’s just a baby! Thomas, do something!

THOMAS: I’m trying! I’m trying to go into Light Master mode… but I’m so tired I get dizzy when I try! I can’t keep it together!

DARK MASTER: Well, as the old cartoon said, that’s all folks! Bye!

[The Dark Master flies away through the door and the bubble follows him with Chris inside]

CHRIS: [screeching in horror] Heeeeelp!

[his cry for help gets lost in the distance before the others have time to react. Then Virgil starts running to the door]

VIRGIL: Come back! Give me my son back! I beg you! Take me instead! No!

[he stops before reaching the door, with pain in his stomach over the effort. Roman runs after him and holds him]

VIRGIL: [hysterical, he turns around and starts punching Roman’s chest with both fists, while Roman looks at his husband with a face of intense suffering and remorse] Don’t touch me! This is your fault! This is all your fault! They took him away because of you! I hate you! I hate you! [he stops punching Roman’s chest and lies on it sobbing on it while Roman hugs him, also crying] I hate you…

ROMAN: I’m sorry, Virgil. I didn’t know this would happen… But we’ll fix it. We have always defeated the Dark Master and this will be no exception. I promise by my royal crown that he’ll get what he deserves and we’ll rescue our son! I solemnly swear it!

[a sign reading “To be continued, guys, gals and non binary pals appears”]

[ending card]

[a couple of minutes have passed, The guys are sitting down on some benches. Virgil is lying on Roman’s shoulder, his face completely void, looking at the infinity, trying to evade himself from the horrible reality he’s facing]

THOMAS: I’m so sorry, guys. I wish I could have been of more help. I just couldn’t call my powers out of exhaustion.

ROMAN: It’s not your fault, Thomas. Like the Dark Master said, it’s my fault and only mine. I’m sorry, guys. [to Virgil] I’m sorry, my love.

VIRGIL: [looks at Roman and holds his hand, then speaks with a weak, heartbroken voice] And I’m sorry for hitting you earlier… I was out of my mind and I didn’t mean what I said. Of course I don’t hate you.

ROMAN: [kissing Virgil’s hand] I know, my love. But you were so right at the same time…

PATTON: You didn’t know this would happen, Roman. Don’t torture yourself.

ROMAN: A marvelous father I’m turning out to be. The first thing I do is delivering him in a silver plate to the enemy.

PATTON: Well, I don’t think I was any better, to be honest.

VIRGIL: [looking at Patton] What do you mean, dad? You have always been there for me.

PATTON: Not always, son. Not always. Now that I’ve got the full picture with the missing piece of my memories, I had… I have so much to regret and so much to apologize for.

THOMAS: It’s hard for me to believe that you, among all of us, could have a dark past of some kind. My mind simply can’t process it.

PATTON: And yet, I do. The Dark Master took good care of shaping my mind in a way that would never ever make me question the holes in my mind. He probably gave me that stupid naive personality so that I would never wonder about the kind of stuff he didn’t want me to remember. And it worked. I was so happy in my stupidity I got completely blind about that.

LOGAN: Don’t say that, Patton. You were not stupid.

PATTON: Yes I was. So silly, so childish. I’m so ashamed when I look back and remember the stupidity of my mind I had these past years.

LOGAN: We loved you the way you were. I loved you. I still do.

PATTON: I’m sorry, Logan, but as Deceit would say, you’ve fallen in love with a lie. The Patton you fell in love with is not real. It was never real. I don’t deserve any kind of love.

LOGAN: Falsehood! That’s not true!

PATTON: Yes it is. You don’t know what I did. What I made Virgil go through because of my weakness… Oh, my God, you’re gonna hate me so much when I level with you all. I’d wish that the Dark Master hadn’t restored my memories. I was happier in my stupidity and now I feel like I’ll never find peace in my life again. Maybe that was his intention, to see me suffer and torture myself forever.

VIRGIL: Dad, you are my father. Nothing you could have ever done could be so bad that I couldn’t forgive it.

PATTON: You don’t know the truth yet, son. Once you know, you won’t be able to say that again with conviction.

VIRGIL: Then tell me dad, to prove you that you’re wrong. What is that truth that is so unforgivable?

[Patton sighs]

PATTON: The truth about who your father is.

VIRGIL: You are my father, what do you mean?

PATTON: I mean your other father.

VIRGIL: My other father? You remember now his identity? Who is he?

PATTON: You already know him too well. You’ve lived with him for years in the Dark Realm. You lived under his yoke and his tyranny for many years, and I couldn’t save you, may God forgive me.

[Virgil looks at Patton. A grimace of horror slowly starts appearing]

VIRGIL: No… that’s not true… that’s impossible!

PATTON: Yes. As painful as it is for me to admit it, but it’s true. The Dark Master is your father.

VIRGIL: [progressively more hysterical as he speaks] I can’t believe you! He can’t be my father! He can’t! If he was my father, he would have never treated me the way he did in the Dark Realm! He would have never taken my son away from me! It’s impossible! No! I refuse to believe you! You’re a liar! You’re no better than Deceit!

ROMAN: [holding him by the shoulders and shaking him] Virgil, calm down! You know he would never lie to you, especially in a matter so serious!

[Virgil sits down. He can’t look Patton in the face]

PATTON: [sad] See? I told you you would hate me.

[Virgil doesn’t answer. He just stares at the infinity, with rivers of tears running down his cheeks, in complete silence. Patton looks at his son, and his eyes also get watery and red. Logan hesitates about if he should hold Patton’s hand, his face noting he'd really wish to do so. Eventually he shies away and doesn’t.]

ROMAN: Just give him some time. It’s too much to assimilate in one go.

THOMAS: I have so many questions…

PATTON: [sniffs and swallows his tears, then trying to show the voice of a dad commanding something to his son] I know, Thomas. But for now, they’ll have to wait. If we want to stand a chance against the Dark Master, you need to sleep. We all need it, for the record.

THOMAS: That’s easier said than done, though. How am I going to catch sleep with all this turmoil of emotions and thoughts running through my mind? I don’t feel sleepy, just tired, really tired, but not sleepy.

PATTON: You’re exhausted, Thomas. You don’t feel sleepy because of your nervousness over all of this, but I’m sure if you try, it won’t take you long to fall asleep. And while you sleep, we will all fall into slumber, including the Dark Master, so that could at least delay his plans with Chris. And since Chris can resist slumber, it could give him a chance too, if he could ever break out of that ball, that is.

THOMAS: What are the Dark Master’s plans?

PATTON: No, Thomas. Not now. Now, sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll tell you everything.

ROLAND: You can all use the guest bedroom in the castle. I always have it ready in anticipation for days like this when all of you would come over. The sheets were changed just this morning. And you, Thomas, can find some sleeping clothing in the closet that will suit you. After all we all have the same size in this world, right?

THOMAS: Thank you so much, Roland.

ROLAND: Don’t mention it.

ROMAN: Okay, time to bed, then. Tomorrow, we’ll call Deceit, Honesty and Remus and we’ll think about what to do.

ROLAND: Is it really necessary to call Remus, though? I’m quite unnerved by his presence. He tried to kill me, just in case you’ve forgotten, that’s why Ira came to live here with me, to be my protector against him. It just doesn’t feel right for me that you’re all so… attached to him right now. I don’t trust him.

ROMAN: I know what you mean and I understand your concern, but Remus is no longer the same as he used to be. I mean, he’s still pretty chaotic and all, but he’s harmless now, and he’s trying to fit in with us, in his own unique way. Besides, we need to be all together for greater chances of success.

ROLAND: [sighs] Okay, if there’s no choice, okay. But don’t ask me to behave nicely to him, because he wasn’t nice to me.

ROMAN: It’s fair, but you should try to give him a chance. Now, let’s go to bed. I’ll turn the day back into night so that we can sleep well, even though it’s almost morning at this point.

[they all stand up and follow Roland. Virgil, apparently unaware that the others are leaving the room, remains sitting down for a moment, still looking at nowhere, before Roman grabs him by the hand and asks him to follow them with the sweetest glance he could come up with. Virgil just follows them like an automaton to the huge guest bedroom which has eight beds. Thomas puts on the pajama he finds in the closet and gets into bed. The others just summon pajamas for themselves and get into the other beds. It only takes a matter of minutes for the exhausted Thomas to fall asleep. When that happens, the rest of the Sides fall asleep too. All of them except Virgil, who just keeps staring at the ceiling, still crying in silence, all night long]

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