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hellothirteenhere · 3 years

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Jujutsu Kaisen x Harry Potter

I feel as though every fandom has that obligatory multichapter Harry Potter!AU. Of course, that’s not to say that our amazing writers hadn’t been writing fic within this universe. (For example, check out seadawnn’s ‘Conquest of Hearts’ - Wholesome™ Itafushi that makes me smile every time I read it.) But I’m interested in seeing how a full-blown Jujutsu Kaisen universe would be like in an alternate Harry Potter-setting. So! I’ve been thinking long and hard about how it would play out and here are my headcanons for our very own Golden Trio! Couldn’t quite place them definitively in their Hogwarts Houses, so I would love to hear your opinions on where each of them should go, as well as your own personal headcanons.

Yuuji Itadori | Gryffindor/Hufflepuff (5th Year)

Ok, so here's the thing: typical shonen protagonist conventions tells me to put Yuuji Itadori in Gryffindor. And it makes complete sense! We see that he's brave - fucking demon possesses you and all you say is "What are you doing with my body?"?. But he's also willing to admit when he gets scared, like when he first faced a Special Grade. GryffindorJock!Itadori who is the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team is a mental image I'm not willing to let go of anytime soon. However, Yuuji is also an incredibly kind individual who just wants to save other people. Hufflepuff!Yuuji is that guy who is popular with everyone at Hogwarts, he cooks meatballs in the kitchens at midnight as he talks to the house elves as though they were close friends, and he would definitely take a curse or two in order to save his friends if the situation calls for it.

Background

Yuuji grew up as a mostly normal kid. Sure, there had been strange (almost magical, somehow) instances here or there but he was an energetic enough child that it never really occurred to him to dwell on them for too long.

As long as he could remember, it was just him and his grandfather. Supposedly, Yuuji had an older brother. But for some reasons that his grandfather refuse to tell him; he had to go away when Yuuji had been very young. He doesn’t even remember what his older brother looked like. But then again, Yuuji can’t even remember what their parents had been like - so he doesn’t really feel as though there was anything lacking in his upbringing. After all, how can you miss something you never had?

On his eleventh birthday, his grandfather solemnly sits Yuuji down and tells him that he was a wizard. He was a “Pureblood” - and potentially very powerful - wizard. His grandfather had been born a squib but he had known enough to explain to Yuuji the basics of the world that his parents had once belonged to.

Imagine: “Yer a wizard, Yuuji.” “….Sweet.”

His grandfather then hands him two things:

First, a letter from some Hog-Wash-Hagwarts?? Warthog? School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that he was to attend. His parents had gone there as well to learn magic.

Second, a long, sturdy piece of polished wood. When grandfather had taken it out of its box, Yuuji had looked at the wand skeptically - almost a hundred percent sure that the entire thing was one huge joke. But his grandfather was no prankster, after all, because as soon as his fingertips touched its surface, he felt a warm glow rush into his fingertips.

According to his grandfather, the wand had been his mother’s, passed on to his grandfather for safekeeping after she had died all those years ago.

When asked about the whereabouts of his father’s wand, his grandfather’s face turned dark. It was with Yuuji’s older brother, he said. His older brother who had also been attending the same school that he would be.

Headcanons

Itadori is one of the best Defense Against the Dark Arts students of their year. He also gets great grades for Charms and, much to everyone’s surprise, Potions. A Chaotic Good™ through-and-through, Itadori tends to forget to follow the very strict instructions that Potions Master Kento Nanami wrote at the blackboard, and yet despite eyeballing the ingredients, his Potion turns out great every time. HOW? No one knows.

His dorm room is filled with Muggle posters - it just feels too weird to have a magical poster of a tall woman with a big ass greeting him every time he woke up or entered his dorm room. He learned the hard way that there is such a thing as too much of a good thing when Todo gifted him a moving poster of Jennifer Lawrence.

He tries his best to collect Chocolate Frog cards, bless his heart - but he always tend to lose them in the journey between Hogwarts and his home every summer. Little does he know that Kugisaki and Toge pilfer the ultra-rare ones that he somehow manages to pull in a semi-regular basis.

Megumi Fushiguro | Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw (5th Year)

Primarily, I want Ravenclaw!Megumi Fushiguro as an aesthetic. We already know that he likes to read non-fiction books in his spare time (babes, i love you but that is nerd behavior), and he's shown that he's very sharp and intuitive when it comes to battles. He is also very knowledgeable about the Jujutsu World. Also, pretty boy looks damn good in blue. I can just imagine Megumi as the quiet, brooding Ravenclaw who is somehow friends with every insane person in Hogwarts. However, Hufflepuff!Megumi embodies who he is as a character. He's loyal to his friends and family, selfless when it comes to protecting the others, and he's willing to work hard behind the scenes even if he doesn't get recognition for it. We also saw how Megumi was willing to be the sacrifice bunt if it meant that Kugisaki had the chance to move forward during the baseball scene.

Background

Megumi came from an aristocratic Pureblood family, the Ancient and Most Noble House of Zenin. An extremely powerful wizarding family rumored to be distant relatives of Salazar Slytherin himself. Only - his father Toji had been born a Squib who married his mother just to spite his conservative family. Much to his surprise, however, Megumi was born not only an incredibly talented wizard but also the first parseltongue of the Zenin family in years.

Professor Gojo - back when he was still an Auror and not the DADA instructor at Hogwarts - came to the Fushiguro family household after he had apprehended Fushiguro Toji or, as the wizarding world commonly knows him as: the Sorcerer Killer. Much to his surprise, he doesn't find Toji's wife nor his stepdaughter - instead, he finds tiny Megumi talking to his pet garden snake, Orochi. He ended up taking Megumi under his wing, letting him live at the Gojo family’s home and later taking him to Diagon Alley a week before he started in Hogwarts.

Gojo buying Megumi his pet owl, Nue.

No, YOU’RE crying.

Of course, the Zenin family kick up a fuss about custody. It's only Gojo's status as the strongest wizard alive - as well as his well-placed threat to make the knowledge that the notorious Sorcerer Killer had once been a Zenin known to the wizarding world - that keeps them quiet.

Headcanons

Megumi's best subject is Care of Magical Creatures - though he’s also great at Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration. Students are, by school regulations, only really allowed one (1) pet (an owl/cat/toad). And legally, Megumi has his horned owl, Nue. It is, however, an open secret within the Hogwarts community that Megumi Fushiguro walks around the castle with his pet snake Orochi wrapped around his wrist under his cloak. No one questions that Megumi arrives at Hogsmeade, conveniently trailed by the same black and white dogs every weekend. His roommates learn to turn their heads the other way when the bunnies under Megumi’s bed escape their cage.

He used the expansion charm in order to house his ever-growing collection of pets. Imagine Newt Scamander’s suitcase but, instead of a large sprawling space, it’s a cozy room filled with books and pets and pet paraphernalia.

He’s not competitive enough to play Quidditch, but he attends every game to support his friends. He also attends their practices sometimes but just sits at the pitch to read his book, do homework, or take a nap.

Half-Veela!Megumi make brain go brrrrr

Kugisaki Nobara| Slytherin/Gryffindor (5th Year)

Out of everyone, I had the hardest time placing the Kugisaki. I feel as though Slytherin!Kugisaki is the girl who dropped everything in order to go live in the city - the girl who was willing to do anything, even join a career with a high possibility of dying, just to follow her dreams. She is unapologetic about being herself, highly resourceful, and is one luxurious queen. But Kugisaki is also incredibly brave - unafraid to stand up for the girl who was being ostracized by everyone in their part of the countryside. I implore you to imagine Gryffindor!Kugisaki pulling the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat in order to save other people.

Background

Kugisaki is a Muggleborn who used to live in the quiet countryside. She’s an incredibly talented witch who started showing signs of magic at an early age - something that had frightened her, especially because it was clear that it also frightened her parents. She tried to suppress her abilities, trying to fit into society for a while - that is, until a girl named Saori moved in from the city.

Saori had been a Pureblood witch who had grown up in the Wizarding World. She had been the first person told Kugisaki that her magic was a blessing instead of a freak of nature or something that she had to hide. Saori talked to Kugisaki about the wonders of their world that she would one day get to take part in. She told Kugisaki about Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and all these wonderful places that she would get to go to.

However, because they were a Pureblood family, Saori and her family did not know how to integrate within the Muggle community. Not too long after their arrival, horrible rumors about their family started spreading - that they were cultists, satan worshippers, etc. Eventually, they decided to move away from the country. Before leaving, Saori made Kugisaki promise to find each other one day and to never turn back on who she truly is.

When Kugisaki first received her letter from Professor Shoko Ieiri who mysteriously appeared in their doorstop the night of her eleventh birthday, the professor explained to her parents about magic and the wizarding - only, Kugisaki was only half listening.

Unlike her parents, she wasn’t surprised one bit - it was only a matter of time, after all, and she was finally going to get to go to Hogwarts. Surely, Saori had already graduated by the time she entered but it was definitely one step closer to finding her childhood friend.

Headcanons

Kugisaki has pretty good grades all around - but she is definitely known as the best in their year at Charms. She also has great grades at Defense Against the Dark Arts. She and Yuuji definitely almost failed History of Magic, though. They have too much energy to just sit quietly and take notes in class - especially one taught by a ghost.

Every store owner in Hogsmeade knows Kugisaki by name - and by extention, they know Yuuji and Megumi too. She has long since mastered the art of dragging her friends all around the shops and still not paying a single Knut by the end of their Hogsmeade visit. At the end of every visit, Yuuji and Megumi swears that it would be the last time and yet, every visit, she still manages to wrangle both of them into coming with her

In Potions, Kugisaki is a force to be reckoned with. Her cauldron always appeared to be on the verge of exploding and yet, somehow, a supernatural force (or by the sheer strength of her own willpower) seem to keep her from completely fucking up every time.

BeaterNobaraBeaterNobaraBeaterNobaraBeaterNobara

COMING UP

Slytherin!Sukuna Ryoumen

Ex-Auror-turned-DADA-Professor!Gojo

Potions-Master-not-Professor!Nanami

Slytherin!Maki Zenin

Ravenclaw!Inumaki Toge

Hufflepuff!Panda

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silence-burns · 3 years

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Please Hate Me //part 48

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

Being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman always gave Peter a sense of pride and purpose, even if he could only share it openly with a few people. It was the kind of accomplishment that made all the hardships seem worth it in the end. It also made him happy in a way he couldn't really explain, but which involved a certain connection between him and the people he protected and got familiar with over the course of his superhero patrols.

But being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman was difficult in a neighborhood where no one was actually friendly in return.

Peter’s frown grew the further into the building he went. He was pretty sure it was the same one Loki and you had been renting an apartment in, and since he was a rather frequent guest, the neighbours should recognize him by now enough to at least return his greetings.

That was what logic dictated, but Peter was pretty certain the people he met in the hallway only gave him a stern, disapproving look before walking past him quickly.

Peter was still frowning when he moved up the stairs, juggling the keys in his hand. Then he stopped. The unearthly screams of the damned were muffled, but most definitely coming from apartment number 13.

Opening the door quietly, he slid into the familiar interior, now echoing with pain and suffering so loud, Peter had to cover his ears just enough to move to the root of all evil - the bathroom.

There were many inexplicable things Peter had witnessed happening in the apartment 13, and to some extent he got used to the thrill of not knowing what he'd face next time he paid a visit. Still, he hadn't expected to see various parts of a half-drowned owl sticking out of the sink filled thick with foam and bubbles. The owl must've struggled a lot, judging by the amount of water splashed on every possible surface, and the iron grip you and Loki still kept on the bird. Even if Loki was not wearing his usual features, it was still obvious who your partner in crime was.

The two of you froze. Soap and foam dripped to the floor. Loki's new form shimmered with a glamour only magic could achieve.

"Um, what are you guys doing?" Peter asked.

"Trying a new disguise?" The curtain of Loki's new long hair was luscious and utterly drenched.

"No, I meant-"

"Listen, boy, as surprising as it might be for you, I'm still me, just with a less… criminally wanted image."

"Yeah, only if 'ME' stands for mischief embodied," you laughed.

"It literally doesn't. It's smooth, but it doesn't."

"Thank you, love. Now, could you please stop drowning poor Barbara?"

Loki sighed, but relaxed his grip on the bird just enough to allow it to peak its head out from under the surface and take a deep, long breath.

Peter put his backpack down and meandered closer, dodging the growing puddles. "Why is there an owl in the sink?"

"Because I'm not allowing any fleas into my house," you firmly stated, pushing the wings back under the water. "And I don't care how many hours we'll spend here, I'm getting all the mud and dirt out."

Barbara clung to her dirt with all her might, but was overpowered and utterly misunderstood. Loki's new form was slimmer, but held the bird with his usual strength and a big dose of satisfaction. The smirk on his face was unchanged, even if the features were new.

"What do you need a disguise for anyway?" Peter asked, looking for a towel. "Can I go with you?"

"I'm afraid that as wildly chaotic and lawless as our destination is, you'd still be age-checked," Loki cooled his enthusiasm.

Barbara rushed to the towel and clung to it, loudly exclaiming what, precisely, she thought about her caretakers. Peter tried to dry her up as best as he could through her wriggling and screams.

"Are you sure all this soap is good for her? Did you use any animal-friendly shampoo?"

Loki shrugged. "I doubt she can get any more dead."

The boy looked at the owl. The owl looked at the boy. The ruffled and drenched feathers were sticking out in all directions, uncovering a deep and no doubt fatal hole in her side.

"You got a dead owl…?"

"It was not my idea," Loki groaned, casting the bird a disgusted stare in the mirror where he tried to change the shape of his eyebrows.

"You're just angry because she likes me more," you laughed while mopping the floor.

Peter did his best to become invisible and not stare too openly at the ribs poking out of the feathers. Barbara puffed them every time he moved the towel around. The boy couldn't speak owlish, but the small, crittering noises she made were definitely far from happy.

"Where will you be going?" Peter asked. The owl sat on his knees and refused to move even after he finished drying her on the couch.

"To the largest casino on the Moon."

"Wait- There are casinos up there?"

"Not for kids your age," Loki said.

Peter slumped on the couch. "That's not fair."

"We'll be back before you notice." You threw the wet rag to the sink. "Of course, as long as a certain someone FINALLY decides what to wear."

Loki ignored your pointed look, too busy with changing his hair color. No matter how many little details he changed, he still struggled with finding a form he was sure would allow him to pass through the guards unnoticed and unrecognized. It was a shame he couldn't use his own - it felt like a waste to hide a face like his.

The owl settled on Peter's shoulder, immobilizing him with the claws buried in his skin. But even from the couch, the boy could see the remnants of a hurricane that had thrown a rather alarming amount of clothes around the apartment.

"I thought these were yours," he admitted. The owl kept on looking through his hair with the utmost scrutiny and very little gentleness.

"I've settled long ago on what I'm going to wear. As for the diva himself, though…" you gestured around.

"I need it to be perfect," Loki said. "I have an important role to play, I can't just waltz in there and be recognized."

"You could go blond," Peter suggested.

"Ew, I don't want to look anything like my brother- Wait, that's actually a great idea."

Before any of you managed to protest, a full-grown Thor stood in Loki's place, watching himself from all angles in the mirror. The clothes no longer fit, so he dropped them and dove into the closet again.

"...what have I done?"

You patted Peter's free shoulder. Barbara nested in the crook of his neck. "Nothing they can prove. Hopefully."

"I am not my father's servant," not-Thor downed another beer. "And if I want to relax for just one evening, I shall!"

The tankard broke into tiny pieces as he smashed it on the ground. The loud applause and waves of laughter followed the very Thor-like outburst, making Loki relieved he was playing his role well. Even in a place like this, crowded with drunkards and gamblers from all over the universe, it was common knowledge what the god of thunder enjoyed.

Loki forced his glamoured face to remain cheerful as another tankard of beer had been brought to him, disgustingly sour and rough. He knew his brother well, and was sure he'd love it, but Loki himself would rather bite off his tongue than willingly digest any more if only he had an actual choice. He didn't, and therefore swallowed another gulp to the cheering from the crowds gathered at his table. The cards had been laid out, waiting for the victors to celebrate their success, and the rest to decide how much more money they were willing to lose to the god of thunder.

Seated in a great hall of marble and gold, Loki wished he could play the way he actually wanted to, which was the very same way that got him banned from the Moon last time he had visited. But for the sake of the mission, he stayed just above the line between bankrupting and winning money, which added to the body he was wearing, was just big enough temptation to keep his table busy.

Everyone entering the biggest casino on the Moon was inclined to try their luck, or at least take a quick look. It was a perfect, if rather boring, way of scanning everyone who entered the rich complex of buildings. The few fountains set further in the back murmured as they shot curtains of water. The air was thick and warm, making crowds of people inevitably gravitate towards them in search of any cold. With the tall, lush plants artistically winding over and between the pillars, it created little areas dotting the impossibly high hall, where the pleasant breeze gathered the people looking for just a moment of relief. You occupied a spot beneath the fountains, where most people would wind up going to at some point, and used it as a second checkpoint, just in case anyone missed Loki's, or rather his brother's table.

"Come on, does anyone else want to lose their fingers?" Loki heard you call out to the crowds.

Between their never ending sessions of losing and winning the money back just to lose them again, there were many individuals in need of a drink and a quick break from the gambling. How easy it was to grab their attention with a loud voice and a dead owl.

Loki stretched his neck and looked over to where you had sat down the bird with all kinds of currency piled between its claws and a single coin shining through the open ribcage.

"All you need is to get the coin out, what's the matter, people? Is there no one brave enough to win all this money?"

Greed has always been a major deciding factor for the living beings regardless of race and the world of origin. The queue only rose in length as everyone wanted to try their luck.

The table under Barbara grew more and more slick with blood from cut and bitten fingers. Pure malice shone in her dead eyes.

"What an awful creature," Loki muttered to himself.

He could sense the stolen pin somewhere in the vicinity, but the casino was a loud and chaotic place, with multiple areas each centered around a different type of entertainment. More than an hour had already passed, but whoever was currently holding onto the pin, had not yet ventured anywhere near.

The two of you were slowly but inevitably running out of time. Odin might've been old and naive, but his spies' eyes reached far and wide. Loki had little doubt he would be interested in his favourite son's apparent evening fun, especially if he had that particular son with him, in the palace. Thor was a good cover, but not for much longer.

And then, by chance or a generous turn of fate, the shadows stirred and whispered.

Loki cast the dice, not paying attention whether he'd won or lost. His money wasn't real anyway.

There - by the high palms stood the Hoarders, clad in the worn out rags and way too much jewelry. With their grey skin and long limbs, it was no wonder how easily they blended in with the shadows, using their skills to warp their surroundings and get in places others would consider highly secure. But their success was not measured in how many places they were capable of breaking in themselves, but rather how many individuals of all races they could easily befriend and bend to their will. Although, to be quite honest, Loki doubted the necromancer had needed much convincing.

There were only three of them, each almost an identical copy of the others, but the Hoarders were encircled by both their partners for the evening and whatever scum tried to befriend them. That made it so much harder to approach them, but Loki was already thinking of a good excuse when he rose from his seat. People parted, giving him space - much more that would be granted to Loki's original form.

The shadows whispered again. One of the ladies separated from the group, with an annoyed expression on her face.

Loki stretched, making sure to put his hands high. Once he caught your attention, he followed the lady at a leisurely pace.

"What do we do?" You asked once both of you entered the corridor and disappeared behind the corner.

"She's got the pin."

One more turn took you in front of the ladies restroom.

"Time for Plan C.” Loki began undressing quickly.

Holding a spare dress in your bottomless pocket was not the wisest choice, but it apparently paid off, even if fishing it out took you a moment. Your hands shook. Someone might have walked in on you at any time. While Loki would be doing whatever it took to get the pin back, you would be the one making sure no one interrupted him…

Like distracting the waiter that was now staring at both of you. Focused on the contents of your pocket, you hadn’t even noticed him approaching. Loki clad in only Thor's skin, blinked.

The waiter turned on his heel and disappeared.

"I can already feel the gossip stirring," Loki shifted into a more feminine body, quickly putting on the dress. "They are going to eat my brother alive."

"Do you feel bad about it?"

"Oh, my heart is breaking into a million pieces," Loki assured you with a smile far too wide for that to be true.

He kissed you quickly before disappearing into the restroom.

Life felt amazing. Loki couldn't help but imagine the amount of trouble his brother would get once the word spread about his whereabouts.

His imagination was running wild, but the one thing Loki couldn't imagine was how, merely thirty minutes later, he'd find himself in the dungeons deep beneath the surface of the Moon, half-drowned, and viciously bitten.

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki mcu #loki imagine #loki #mar #mcu #loki series #loki laufeyson imagine #loki fanfic

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fandom-collective-writers · 4 years

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Fortune’s Favor (Gavin x MC)

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Gavin x MC

Prompt: Water balloon

Warning: Smut!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 2,729

Requested by: anonymous

Written by: @lordsisterxotome

Disclaimer: I do not own MLQC or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Elex. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

Other notes: Can we all take a moment to appreciate Gavin as the perfect, beautiful man that he is? Like, damn!!!

MC loved children. This was a known fact. She had even produced several shows concerning child development and behavioral issues. Kids were kids though, and it had yet to be determined whether that was in her favor at this particular moment.

Her soaked dress clung to her body uncomfortably, making her shift in an effort to keep the fabric from clinging. Shivering, MC huddled into her boyfriend’s jacket, fingers digging into the material as she pulled the flaps tighter over her chest. She had been on set, producing a segment on ways for children to stay active during the summer, when she’d gotten caught in the crossfire of a water balloon fight, her clothes and hair soaked in a matter of seconds as assistants and parents tried to round up the overexcited troublemakers. To make matters worse, the dress she had chosen to wear a white dress today, leaving little to the imagination as the fabric turned transparent.

Stunned by the sudden dousing, she was lucky that Gavin had been there to help out on his day off, jumping into action and draping his denim jacket around her shoulders before saying a few words to Kiki and leading her to a trailer. Having sat her down on a sofa, he was currently looking for something she could use to dry off and a change of clothes.

“I don’t think we’re going to find much in the way of fresh clothes,” she commented. Honestly, this could be a lot worse. She wasn’t so uncomfortable with Gavin here, knowing he would take care of her, and his jacket was warm and smelled like him, like sun and wind.

“You’re right. I’m not finding any towels either,” he sighed, his rummaging ceasing as he turned back to her. “I’m going to run back to your place and get you some clothes. In the meantime, you should get out of that dress or you might get sick. You can use my jacket to dry off as much as you can.” MC blushed as he sat down beside her and reached out to card his fingers through her damp locks. His palm cupped her cheek and she relished the warmth of his touch against her clammy skin, wanting nothing more than to snuggle up against him.

Sure, she was a little flustered. Pretty much everything was on display beneath the jacket and while it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her naked before, it was still all too easy to become embarrassed around him, her heart racing and body heating in reaction to him. It didn’t help that she had forgone a bra today, the wet fabric chafing her nipples with each heavy breath she took and hardening the buds to sensitive peaks that undoubtedly showed through her dress.

“Are you sure?” she asked, licking her lips. “You don’t have to go to all that trouble.”

“I don’t mind.” He smiled softly and rose to his feet. “Lock the door behind me so no one comes in by mistake.”

That made her startle, suddenly remembering a very important detail that would make this plan a lot more tricky. Gavin must have seen the realization on her face because he stopped, hand on the door handle. “What?” he asked, “What is it?”

“The doors on the trailers don’t lock.”

“...Oh.”

“I’m not sure why they don’t, but…” she muttered, trying to come up with some sort of excuse as she shifted in place.

“Okay.” He thought for a moment before deciding, “You can’t stay here like this. Let’s go get your things and let Anna know I’m taking you home to get changed.”

“Alright.” Taking the hand he offered her, MC settled into the crook of his arm as it wrapped around her shoulders, holding her against him protectively as they left the trailer. Anna was quick to give her the okay to go home, the other woman’s concern almost motherly as she took in her flushed cheeks and slight shivering with a furrowed brow. Gavin assured her he would take care of her - which he didn’t really need to do; it was already an accepted fact at the office that Gavin was a man among men - before escorting her to his motorcycle.

By this point her dress had become icy and she snuggled against Gavin’s broad back as he drove, seeking the comfort of his warmth.

“Almost there,” he said over his shoulder, to which she nodded, cheek pressed to his shoulder blade through the helmet he’d given her. The engine quieted to a rumbling purr as he pulled into the parking structure beneath her building and she dreaded the chafe that would come with getting off and moving around.

Her hair clung to her cheeks in wet clumps as she took off the helmet and let him help her off the motorcycle. There really was no worse feeling in the world than wet clothes. Each movement was excruciating, cold fabric rubbing and clinging in ways that left her uncomfortable and all too sensitive.

It was a relief when they finally reached her apartment and she turned the key in the lock. Gavin followed her in, and without thinking MC shed his jacket, unaware of how much she was revealing to him.

He was a gentleman and would sooner die than do something that took advantage of her, but Gavin was still a hot-blooded young man who was very much attracted to his girlfriend. His pants suddenly felt a little too tight, his breath coming a little harder as he averted his gaze from her. “You should warm up with a shower,” he managed, his voice a little husky as he looked at anything besides her.

When MC turned back to him she couldn’t help but giggle at how cute he looked, almost boyish with his pink cheeks and a hand raised to scratch the back of his head sheepishly. Around anyone else, she would have shied away, leaving them with a thank you at the door, but Gavin always made her feel safe, knowing that she was his number one priority at all times. It was one of the many qualities that made her fall in love with him.

“I will. Thank you for taking care of me, Gavin,” she said, turning to face him. “Do you want to wait here? It’s okay if you want to leave.”

“Here is fine.”

“Okay.” Shooting him an innocent smile, she sashayed to the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” he replied, voice a little gruff.

Despite how much she wanted to take this further, she only meant to tease her adorable boyfriend a little before going back to set, but when she tried to take off her sodden dress and found that the buttons didn’t want to cooperate with the wet material, there was really only one option left.

“Gavin?” she called, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Sorry, I can’t get the buttons by myself. Could you help me?”

“...Sure.” His footsteps padded closer and her breathing picked up in anticipation when the door ghosted open. She didn’t meet his eyes, only turned to offer him her back. His presence behind her sent electric tinges washing over her skin and she hoped he didn’t notice the tiny shiver that wracked her when she felt his touch ghost along her shoulders. He was close, closer than he needed to be, but she wanted him even closer. Her lips parted around a silent moan as his breath fanned against her ear and she waited to see what he would do next as he reached the last button at the base of her spine.

Gavin stopped, seeming to debate with himself for a moment, before the barely there touch of his hands on her naked skin made her exhale a shaky sigh. His fingers traced her spine, continuing to her shoulders. The digits slipped under the straps of her dress, but before he made any move to bare her, he murmured, “Can I?” his voice tight with restraint.

“Please, Gavin,” she answered, her voice a whispered whine. MC could never deny him, not that she would ever want to. “I need you.”

A heartbeat later, her dress fell from her shoulders to pool on the tile floor. Gavin moaned against her neck as his lips descended on her skin, his body pressed flush against hers as his hands reached around to cup her breasts, gently weighing them in his palms. She arched her hips against his crotch, crying out as his teeth sank into the side of her neck at the pressure against his growing erection. Her hips hit the edge of the counter as he forced her forward, seeking that delicious friction as he began to dry hump her.

Mewls and whines escaped her parted lips as Gavin’s large hand gave her breast another squeeze before traveling down her stomach to slip into the front of her panties. Her legs trembled as he found her swollen clit, his thumb stroking the bud as he slipped his middle finger inside of her.

“G-Gavin, mmh! I...I can’t-!” MC tried to warn him of her failing legs, but she could barely get the words out, her slick core clenching around his fingers as he ground his bulge against her. She nearly cried as his fingers slipped out of her heat to turn her around. Her panties slipped down her legs before she was hoisted up onto the countertop, her boyfriend taking his rightful place between her legs. Gavin’s mouth claimed hers in a hungry kiss as she reached for him, small hands slipping under his shirt to touch chiseled abs and pecs. The lustful spark in his eyes as he parted from her to tear his shirt over his head sent a wave of heat blistering through her, her inner thighs soaked with her arousal.

She expected him to kiss her or shed the rest of his clothes, but he stepped away from her completely instead, reaching to turn on the shower before kneeling in front of her to rifle through the cabinets underneath the sink. When he looked up at her, he held a condom between his fingers and her brows lifted in surprise. “Where did you find that?” She couldn’t remember ever stashing a box down there.

“I put it here after our first time,” he admitted, and she might’ve fallen in love with him even more if that was possible. It was just like him to be so careful when it came to her. He held the foil package between his teeth as he undid his belt, holding her heated gaze as he pushed his pants and boxers down his legs. Her eyes immediately fell to his freed dick, swallowing at how painfully hard he was. Gavin was very well endowed, long and thick and veined, the velvety skin flushed red with need. The swollen head weeped pre-cum as she watched and a hand under her chin tilted her face up.

Her gaze met his half-lidded one and she nearly whimpered as he tore the condom open and rolled it down his length, rubbing her thighs together in an attempt to relieve the suddenly painful ache. Parting her legs, he wrapped his hands around her thighs and hoisted her off the counter with ease, her legs wrapping around his waist as he stepped into the shower.

The water did little to soothe the heat raging deep inside of her, though it did wash the last of the chill left by her wet clothes away. MC cried out as he pressed her against the shower wall, his chiseled body rutting against hers as he began to roll his hips into her. “Gavin! Oh god!” She writhed as the tip of his cock prodded her clit, his thick heat spreading her folds as his mouth nipped at her neck and collarbone.

“Want to be inside you,” he panted hotly against her cheek. “Can I?”

“Yes!” Bucking her hips, she heard him groan, releasing one of her legs in favor of clenching a fist against the wall next to her head. “I gave you permission the moment you undressed me! Please, please, please, fuck me, Gavin!”

Reaching down to position himself, she whimpered as his length slowly stretched her, the slight burn of something so large entering her wet core lost in the way he filled and pressed against her walls so deliciously. Her cries for him to go faster, to shove the whole thing in at once, were lost to him, his face pressed into her neck and his jaw clenched as he groaned. As much as Gavin wanted to shove himself into her, he wanted to be careful, to cherish her and make her feel loved.

He began to move as soon as he was fully seated inside of her, pulling out until just the tip was left inside before slamming back in again, her screams reverberating around the bathroom as he gave her what she wanted.

“Yes!...ah!!...Yes, Gavin, mmm..that...it feels so good!!” she cried, gasping lungfuls of the steamy air.

“Yeah?” Grabbing a bouncing breast, he pinched and twisted her nipple, licking his lips as she was reduced to a whimpering, lustful mess in his embrace. “You...haa...take me so good. Feels...ngh!...s-so good...squeezing me so tight! My good girl…”

Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he continued to pound into her, drops of water running down his muscles and clinging to the ends of his hair. All she could think to say was his name as he drove into her, adjusting his angle a couple of times to hit spots that had her eyes rolling back in her head.

“You’re...ahh!!...Gavin, you’re so deep! Gavin, Gavin, Gavin!!” She could feel him in every part of her body, claiming her as his own. It was hard and intense, but underlying it all was love, his adoration for her conveyed in every heated touch of skin against skin.

“Say my name,” he growled, claiming her lips in a hungry kiss. “Scream it so the neighbors know.” Tears of pleasure ran down her face as he hit her g-spot hard, abusing the sensitive spot over and over again. “Are you going to come?” he panted, hips moving faster, rougher. He was getting close too, her walls threatening to squeeze him to completion she was getting so tight.

“Y-Yes!” she cried, gasping as he throbbed and twitched inside of her.

His hand moved to where they were joined, and with a hard press to her clit she came undone, crying his name as her vision went white under an explosion of rapture. His pleasured grunt joined her scream as he reached his own end a few thrusts later, and he looked positively virile as he released, muscles in his neck bulging as his seed spilled into the condom.

The water cooled their overheated bodies as they panted, slowly coming down from their highs. Releasing her leg from around his hip, Gavin gently held her on her feet as he slipped out of her, planting kisses on her wet face.

“I love you,” she said breathlessly, a satisfied smile on her face as she nuzzled into his neck. “I love you so so much.”

“I love you too,” he murmured back, his arms tightening around her. A few moments passed like that, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, before he released her, stepping out of the shower for a moment to discard the used condom.

Alone, MC cupped her flushed cheeks in her hands and squealed internally. In this case, getting caught in the crossfire of a children’s water balloon fight had turned out very, very well, gaining fortune’s favor the moment she fell in love with Gavin.

It wasn’t until after they had finished washing up and were drying off when she suddenly gasped. “What if Lucien was home?!”

Gavin blinked at her, silent for a moment, before he burst into chuckles. Wrapping his arms around her middle, she thought she saw some of the same mischief from high school in his face now as he said, “I’ve had you screaming my name enough that I think he’s used to it by now, babe.”

#mr love queens choice #mr love queen's choice gavin #mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc gavin x mc #mlqc gavin x reader #romance #smut #mlqc x reader #otome #otome x reader #fortune's favor (gavin x mc)#mr love queen's choice gavin x reader

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dehydratedpool · 3 years

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hello again!! it’s the beginning of a new month, meaning a new fic rec post!! here are some fics that i read this month that are just... exquisite and deserve all the love and attention <3

there aren’t as many as last time unfortunately, since i was quite busy this past month, but i promise next month won’t fall short! ((fics that i’ve reread this month are indicated with a **))

Foolishly Laying Our Hearts On The Table [11k] by runaway_train @runaway-train-works

“You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten.

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

Or; The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

--> this is a new comfort fic for me tbh. i got rec’d this after louis tweeted about getting his wisdom teeth removed, and i’m so SO glad i decided to give it a read. it’s so precious and lovely and personally, i found it to be a quick read. it’s the kind of fic that makes me both warm and fuzzy inside but also highly upset that i’m single and will surely be alone forever

Just Let Me [14k] by HelloAmHere

The party was going well. So well, Niall had already sworn undying love to one multi-tiered chocolate cake, two friendly corgi-poodle mixes, Zayn’s hair, and the entire population of Los Angeles. So well, Zayn had only laughed and ruffled Niall’s hair and not even twitched towards a cigarette. So well, nearly everyone had spilled far past the boundaries of the night’s original plans, extracting bottles of vodka from the cabinets and losing a lot of clothes. Harry had proclaimed that he was finally going to throw a small and very grownup dinner party and of course here they were three hours later, fifty people half-naked in the pool. Soon to be full-naked, if Louis had to guess. Everybody in LA loved a heated pool. Everybody loved Harry.

--> ok LISTEN. as some of you know, i just recently got into reading a/b/o fics and this one is definitely at the top of my fave a/b/o fics out there. it’s an interesting take on the trope, almost a bit more realistic in my opinion, and to quote the author’s note, “’what if a/b/o but less biological determinism?’”. i believe i found this one through a masterpost of “touch-deprivation fics”, so if that’s your thing, give this one a chance!

my ugly mouth kept running [4k] by theankletattoo @hadestyles

Another seed, another try except they know what caused the first wilt. They will be careful, they will be kind and together they will nurture it to life.

sometimes second chances are more important than the first.

--> rori, the author, never fails to disappoint when it comes to all of her works. i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again, she’s so incredibly fucking talented it’s unreal. her imagery is so vivid and real it leaves simultaneously everything and nothing to the imagination. as usual, h and l’s dynamic in this is an addicting portion to this fic that has you anticipating how their dynamic will shift and grow up until the end. if you’ve yet to read any of rori’s work, i suggest you add that to your to-do list for the month, and get a head start to her collection with this one!

**As Wicked As Anything Could Be [21k] by whoknows @crazyupsetter

It starts when Louis decides that he wants to lose his cherry and announces that he thinks the best way to do that is by going to a gay club. Naturally, Harry can’t let him go alone, so he tags along and spends the night rating guys with Louis until someone finally catches Louis’s eye.

Harry shoves him out to dance with the guy, and he can already tell that it’s going to be a quick and dirty hook up, so he’s not surprised that Louis and the guy disappear into the bathroom ten minutes later.

It is a surprise when Louis comes out not even two minutes later, pale and clammy, grabs Harry by the hand and drags him right out the door.

Somehow Harry comes to the decision that it would be a good idea for him to be in the room with Louis while Louis gets laid.

It’s a stupid fucking decision.

--> i discovered this fic a while ago on a whim and i have zero regrets. this is absolutely on my top ten fave fics list (that has yet to exist but perhaps i’ll post it one day). whoknows is a well known author within the fandom, so i’m sure i don’t have to say much about their immense talent, but SERIOUSLY, their plot progression, even their use of dialogue is wonderful in every way. as a writer, i envy them lmao. this fic takes me on a rollercoaster every time i read it, it’s yet another comfort fic of mine and never fails to disappoint every time i pick it up again. please, do yourselves a favor this april and read this.

Keeping The Flame Alive [19k] by whoknows @crazyupsetter

Recording with One Direction never felt like this. There’s a couple reasons for that, Harry thinks. One is that they did most of their recording on the road, rushed and in busses and hotel rooms, never in one place long enough to really get an argument going. The other, larger and more important one, is that back then he had the sweetest, meanest little omega around to distract him from all of that frustration.

The first time around, when he’d been recording his debut solo album, it hit him pretty hard. He likes to think he’s better adjusted to it now, but frustration is warring under his skin nonetheless. He doesn’t want to be told what to do most of the time, and he especially doesn’t want to be told what to do when it comes to his music.

What he does want right now is that sweet, mean little omega right in front of him with his mouth on Harry’s cock. Unfortunately, the best he’s got is his own hand and a shared toilet. So. That’s really not going to work.

--> yes, for the first time in dehydratedpoolfics history of fic recs even tho i’ve only been doing this for a month i am rec’ing the same author twice, but seriously, how could i not??? this fic took me on a literal journey like... wtf. i have no words. seriously, i have none, i’m just that blown away, go read it for yourself .

**a trail of honey through it all [27k] by bruisedhoney @yvesaintlourent

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

--> okay look. i may or may not have a slight obsession with this fic. i reread it constantly, mostly for the iconic line, “are we fuckin’ or fightin’?”, because how can i not scream over that?? ((also patiently waiting for the sequel)) this is a literary masterpiece, one that defines an entire generation of this fandom i stg. but in all seriousness, hayley, the author, does such a wonderful job of giving the reader a vivid look into “nowhere, georgia”, and as a southern gal myself, i absolutely adore the itty bitty pieces of southern culture embedded into this, the tiny quirks that make this fic authentic. i could probably go on forever on why this fic is so iconic, but perhaps you should read it for yourself instead *wink* *wink*

SO. that’s all for this month!! if you read any of these, first of all, be sure to read the tags and author’s note (if any) before starting, AND please don’t forget to leave a quick kudos or comment, it means more than you may ever know <3

#fic recs #fic rec #yourlarrysource #hlcreators #hljournal #harry styles #louis tomlinson #larry stylinson #fanfiction #writing #march 2021 fic recs

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lifblogs · 3 years

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Whumptober 2021

No. 4 - TRUST FALL

"Do you trust me?" | taken hostage | pushed

Title: Scream Fandom: Shadow and Bone, Grishaverse, Siege and Storm Rating: Explicit Pairing: Darklina (primary ship), Malina Word Count: 2855 Summary: The Darkling is driven to find the Rusalye, and he'll use any means to get it, even hurting Alina in unspeakable ways. WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-con READ ON AO3

“Do you trust me?”

I scoffed, crossing my arms where I stood across from the Darkling in his cabin. The floor seemed to sway as the ship rode the billowing waves of the Bone Road. My collar of antlers felt heavy around my throat.

“Why would I?”

The Darkling approached me, all regal in his black kefta; it was still the silk I was used to, but beneath it was silver fox fur to keep him warm. Funny to think that the Darkling could get cold.

He seemed to grow as he closed in on me, becoming more than just a man. I tried to tell myself that he was just that and nothing special, but I knew better. He was ancient, powerful, and he wanted to use me.

I held my ground, even when he reached out to touch me. At the barest hint of our skin touching I inhaled deeply, suddenly flooded with power, feeling it roil through me all the way down to my toes. I wanted to lean into it, become part of it. He brushed his fingers against my collarbone, and then at the antlers that David had crafted around my neck: the amplifier of Morozova’s stag.

“Perhaps because I gave you this power, Alina.”

“And you used it,” I replied, tone as bitter as sour kvas. “You used me.”

“Because your power is extraordinary,” he breathed. “I want to help you wield it. That’s why we’re looking for the Rusalye. I want to help you.”

“If you really wanted to help me you would let me go. You would let Mal go.”

The Darkling stepped aside and went to his desk, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know what it is you see in that otkazat’sya. He will wither and die, while you remain.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He gave me the barest hint of a smile. “Am I supposed to deny such a thing? There will just be you and me, Alina. He is nothing compared to what we are, what we can do.”

The adrenaline of being threatened above deck earlier wore off, and I had to resist the urge to slump where I stood. Instead, I took a seat before his desk. Or, I suppose it was actually Sturmhond’s desk, and he’d just taken over.

“I’m guessing you want Mal to think you’re doing unspeakable things to me right now,” I surmised.

“Would they be so unspeakable?”

My heart thrummed from the heat in his eyes, the curl of his lips. I frequently dreamed of what he spoke of, dreamed of the way he’d touched me and kissed me at the winter fete, having me pushed up against the door. I had wanted more then, and for awhile I still did. Did I now?

My shoulder twinged where the nichevo’ya had bitten me, as if it was thrumming with his darkness.

In a halting voice, I said, “I have wanted those things, but now—”

He interrupted, going around to sit on the desk before me, “Now you’re happy to roll around in the mud with the dogs. It’s beneath you, Alina.” His body was so close to mine that I couldn’t tell if I was imagining the warmth coming off of him or not.

I opened my mouth, hoping to say something clever, but there was nothing to say. He leaned in, putting a hand around my throat beneath the collar. I nearly moaned from the surety that flooded me, the golden light I could feel just beneath my skin. It wanted to erupt from his mere touch. I was breathless as I stared up at him, mouth agape. Then his hand began to travel down, down, and I wanted to squirm.

Alina, stop this. Stop him.

But it felt so right.

Yet…

He took hold of me at my waist, and pulled me to my feet as if I weighed nothing.

I tried to shove him away.

“No!” I cried.

No, I couldn’t do this. I shouldn’t. Just minutes ago he had threatened to tear into me with a knife, and now he wanted me? I couldn’t understand him. Perhaps the centuries he’d been alive had changed and warped what humanity was in him, but I wasn’t sure I could see that sliver of humanity now.

He ended up pushing me away, and snarled, “Fine, but tomorrow if your precious otkazat’sya doesn’t find the Rusalye, then I get to do what I want. Is that clear?”

I avoided his gaze, even when he grabbed my chin and tilted my head up. I just looked downward, at his chest, watching it rise and fall, wondering how he could be breathing the same air as me yet be so different.

“Is that clear?”

Stomach churning, legs weak and nearly shaky, I forced myself to look into his eyes, to meet that ancient gaze, and see the anger and the want within him.

“Do whatever you want to me,” I said, ashamed at the quaver in my voice, feeling it like a black pit in my gut. “It won’t make this ship go faster, or coax the Rusalye out of hiding. Mal can only work with what he has.”

“I find that people can do extraordinary things with the right motivation.” He turned me around and gave my rump a little tap. The sensation startled me, shooting star-flecked bolts all the way down to my toes. “Get going.”

~~~

The next day came, and the Rusalye still hadn’t been found. I had discussed what had happened in the cabin the day before with Mal that night, before I was forced back into my tiny bunk with Tamar. Mal wanted to do as the Darkling wished, if only to save me. I had begged and pleaded, telling him that I would be fine, even when in my heart I knew I wouldn’t. Mal could tell I was lying. So when I’d been escorted to the Darkling’s cabin Mal had been held back by Grisha. He’d fought till he was bloodied and screaming my name. I wanted to run to him, to reach out to him, but all I did was try and force an assuring smile on my face as a few tears rolled down my cheeks. This terror had ahold of me as surely as the nichevo’ya’s teeth had dug into me and had scarcely wanted to let go.

The Darkling wasted no time on talk. The door closed, and then I was shoved up against it. I tried to remember some of Botkin’s lessons, but the Darkling was so much bigger than me. Perhaps if I hadn’t let him get the upper hand so quickly I would have been able to fight, but he had me pinned.

I willed my tears away.

“Good morning, Alina,” the Darkling breathed as he leaned down, lips brushing my neck.

Even as a part of me wanted him—wanted him so badly that I would tear someone apart to get him—I squirmed, trying to move my neck away from his mouth. But his hands were on my body now, gripping my waist tightly, pulling me close.

I whimpered, and raised my arms to try and smack my hands against his chest. He just grabbed my wrists, and pinned them above my head.

He tilted his head, examining me. “I believe we’re both overdressed for the occasion.”

I stood, frozen, as the Darkling stepped back and began to divest himself of his kefta. His eyes were on me the whole time, and I wanted to sink through the wood of the deck, and into the waters of the Bone Road, drowning in the cold. I knew I could summon my light, try to make the Cut, but would Mal pay for my actions? Surely he would. Then there was the question of what would happen should I horribly fail. No, I couldn’t do it.

The Darkling didn’t bother with the rest of his clothes too much, just started undoing the ties on his trousers.

Oh Saints.

He reached out, taking hold of my wrist, leaving me breathless, and he tugged me over to his desk. I trembled as he tore at the skirt of my wool dress, and I worried about what I would have to wear after.

“Hmm… I did like you better in a kefta, but you never did take to my color. What a shame. Black suits you, Sun Summoner.”

“If all you want is my power, you don’t have to do this!”

“Oh, but I do.” He pressed me against the desk, facing away from him. There was an uncomfortable heat in my stomach, and I feared I was going to be sick. The wood pressed sharply against me. He lifted up my torn skirt, and reached for the stockings I had underneath. Leaning against me, he went on, “Because I want you. I have wanted you since I first laid eyes on you in my command tent at Kribirsk. And I nearly had you. Nearly. Now I will.”

He pulled my stockings down, and my skin puckered against the sudden cold, backside and legs revealed to him.

“Stop! Please!”

He put one hand to the back of my neck, over the collar, and bent me forward. I could scarcely breathe. I felt him, pressing up against me. He was hard in his trousers, which was not something I was all that used to, even with the nights I’d lain against Mal. I wasn’t ready yet. I wasn’t entirely sure why, but I wasn’t. And here the Darkling was, more than ready to take what wasn’t his.

He ground down against me, and I let out a discomfited moan. Fear trickled through my blood, like ice and fire battling each other, neither side winning.

“Are you going to scream, Alina? I think it would really encourage the otkazat’sya.”

My bottom lip wobbled, and I bit it. My mouth wanted to open, to let my voice out, to cry for help. But who would help me on this cursed ship? I was a hostage, being pushed over the edge so a dark tyrant could get what he wanted. It was all about him, even if he claimed he cared for me.

Yet I tried to lie to myself, tried to tell myself he did truly care about me as he pulled back slightly, and then was touching me again, only this time he had been freed from his trousers. I swallowed back sick as his hard length pressed up against me. A trembling started in my legs. Saints, he was big. How was he even going to fit?

He rubbed the head of his cock against me, and through my folds, leaving me squirming and whimpering. His breaths were heavy, laced with his voice, which had become rough and low.

I had wanted to hold in my voice, but I squealed as he pressed in just a bit, something tearing. He probably wasn’t even an inch in me, and still the sensation was painful and startling, yet... I could feel my power brimming just beneath the surface, wanting to let loose. It was stronger from his touch, and it wanted me.

“Alina,” he groaned, pushing in just a bit more.

A throaty moan left me, and I tried to relax, tried to take deep breaths. I didn’t know much about this, but I figured being wound up tight would just make it hurt.

Pretend he loves you. Pretend he loves you, I pleaded with myself.

When he pushed in further, I dug my nails into the wood of the desk.

I could feel him shuddering against me, over me. I was completely trapped by the heaviness of his body. His hips began to undulate, cock reaching just a bit deeper into me each time. He leaned over, kissed my neck, kissing the bite from the nichevo’ya. In time I was letting out cries that were timed with his thrusts. I felt like he was going to rip me apart. I was so full and stretched, and yet it didn’t stop.

Would my torment be endless?

With one powerful thrust that left me writhing and screaming, I felt his balls pressing up against me, hot and heavy with his seed. Tears built up in my eyes, and I was too overcome with how wonderful and horrible I felt to try and hold them back. One rolled down my cheek.

“Good, Alina. Good,” the Darkling crooned. “Now I’m going to need you to scream louder. We need your tracker to hear. And perhaps after I’ll show him your maiden’s blood.”

I had no choice but to comply. His hips moved mercilessly, large cock pummeling my insides. I tried to ignore the slapping and squelching sounds and just focused on how the desk shook, even though it had been nailed down to withstand the mercurial waters of the ocean.

Even that was too much. I felt like I was being taken over, like I would never escape this.

Again and again he plunged into me, and I did scream.

I screamed because I wanted more. I screamed because I wanted him to stop.

A fiery sensation was building up in my pelvis and lower abdomen. It was so foreign that I wanted to cry, that I wanted to push him away, and use the Cut to sever his head from his body. Instead he kept pushing, kept going, kept calling my name like a prayer.

The fire in me built and built, condensing into a ball until it couldn’t be held back anymore. The fire burst through me, and I was screaming again. My walls clenched around his driving cock rhythmically, and waves of pleasure rolled through me, leaving me light-headed and woozy. The only thing my legs seemed to know how to do was shake; holding up my body was beyond them.

I was stuck in that fire, that beautiful, searing light for what felt like eternity. The Darkling settled into me up to his balls, taking advantage of the contractions my end had brought about. Throaty moans left him, and his hands squeezed my bottom till it hurt. I clawed at the desk, wanting more, wanting it to end.

When my contractions stopped, and the pleasure ebbed out of me in gentle waves, he began to take me once more, with a power and want that I couldn’t understand.

Part of me wondered how I’d be able to handle this every day. Perhaps I’d just forget it, or become numb to it.

That numbness seemed to seep over me now, even as I hurt, as my hips were driven into the desk, and I was spread wide open for him, and dug into like some prize.

The scream I let out when he came wasn’t one of pleasure, or even pain. It was anger, fury.

How dare he!

Ana Kuya had barely taught me about any of this, but she’d made sure that I knew what this meant, what could happen when a man reached his end inside a woman.

I didn’t want a child!

Did he want to impregnate me? Did he want me to bear that burden so I would have to cling to him, depend on him? Or did he just seek pleasure from the fear and anger now coursing through me?

I tried to fight him for what might have been the millionth time, but it was no use.

The Darkling pulled out of me, and I nearly dropped to the floor. I managed to turn about, raising myself up with shaking limbs. The Darkling was smiling, breathing hard, and I could see the points of his nipples beneath his dark shirt. He breathed a contented sigh, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair, cheeks all red. His other hand was stuffing his cock back into his trousers.

“That was… wow, Alina.”

“You did all the work,” I spat.

“But maybe I won’t tomorrow.” Now when he let out a sigh it was one of disappointment, and he put himself to rights again. “As much as I’d like to have you all day I have work to do, and we must check on your otkazat’sya.”

My cheeks burned at the mention of Mal. What would he think? Would he not want to be with me anymore? Was I tainted? Would he think that I had wanted it?

I was like a doll as the Darkling did what he could to fix my clothes, but there was nothing that could be done for my ruined skirt. He didn’t seem to mind, but I worried about the cold, whipping salt winds of the ocean that I’d feel above deck.

He took me by the wrist, and I fell into myself, tumbling, and tumbling until I wasn’t sure there was anything left. He presented me to Mal, who still hadn’t found the Rusalye.

The Darkling would have me the next day. Maybe even the day after that. I would have to scream for him, and in my heart darkened by the taint of him, I knew I would.

#whumptober2021 #no.4 #TRUST FALL #'do you trust me?'#taken hostage #pushed #shadow and bone #grishaverse #the grishaverse #fanfiction #graphic depictions of violence #rape/non-con #nsfwhump #darklina #darklina fanfiction #writing #my writing #nsft

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chreafysan · 4 years

Text

Unexpected Emotions | Hisoka x reader

Request: Can I request Hisoka x Female reader? Hisoka realizing he 'cares' for her but cannot express it the right away, he always ends up in a rough sex with her? :D

Genre: Fluff, smut

Fandom: HunterxHunter

Word count: 2913

Warnings: Unprotected sex (use protection my dudes), fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving)

I’m so sorry this one took me so long to do. Hisoka is my fave and I wanted to do his character good ;) I also had a lot of university work since it’s all online right now. So pardon me for not posting it sooner...

You walked along with your group of friends, well more like you and Kurapika walking at a peaceful pace while Gon and Killua trotted ahead of you, with Leorio behind all of you, stating that he would “protect our backs from any dangers,”. The three of you were enjoying a tranquil silence until the sound of heels meeting the concrete below you alerted you, and immediately killed that moment of peace. Then a chuckle came out of the figure’s mouth, and just a second later, Leorio was in front of the two of you, running towards Gon and Killua.

The blonde-haired boy and you turned around at the sight of Hisoka, wearing his usual eccentric outfit—which wasn’t surprising—what did baffle you was the deadly look he sent Kurapika’s way, and so the boy took that as his cue to leave, you moved your mouth to say something at him before he abandoned you with the magician, but he had already run far enough for him to even hear you. So you turned around with a sigh, looking at the smirking man.

“It’s a pleasure to meet with you again (y/n)~” he said, and his smile widened even more. Then he pulled you by the wrist, and a card was suddenly below your chin, the sharp tip of it stinging the skin. He started giggling. What was so funny? You wondered. The man always stares at you from a distance, and to have him say “pleasure to meet with you again” baffled you, filling your head with a tiny bit of confusion, yet a blush formed on your cheeks at the thought of him just as much as looking at you.

“Nice to see you again, Hisoka,” you uttered the words with such happiness that it made his golden eyes widen a tiny bit. Even with the card just slightly piercing your skin, your behavior spared nothing but warm feelings for someone you had just met, regardless of the many times you looked at each other from afar. Blood started coming out of the growing wound on your face, wincing, you made a move to pull away. However, the magician kept staring at you, not once moving the card away.

Instead, he placed a kiss on your forehead, humming against your skin. At the same time, you felt his nails opening up your right palm, dropping a paper against it, then closing your hand till you both heard the slight crunch of the paper. Then he finally drew the card away from your face. His knees went a bit down to try and make the height difference a lesser problem when looking eye to eye.

“You’ll look delightful any way, so I don’t think I should give you any advice on what to wear for this night’s dinner between you and I~” he turned around and began to walk off, head slightly turned to look back while waving his pale hand at you.

*******

Wearing a (f/c) dress that reached just above your knees, covered in tiny sparkles, only noticeable by the light flaming at you, you walked up to him. From his point of view, Hisoka’s golden eyes could view all of those little specks adorning the cloth hugging your body. A desire he didn’t know existed, overwhelmed his mind and body. This wasn’t a craving for killing, he would be aware of that and act on it if it was. However, that wasn’t the case with you. At first, he became attracted to your use of nen during the hunter exam and immediately felt the need to kill you during battle.

He felt frustrated with himself, now that he had irrationally asked to court you in the form of a dinner, and for what? It caused an itch at the back of his head, and so he ran his nails over that spot being covered by his hair, which had been let down for this important occasion.

“Hisoka Morrow with his hair down? Never thought I’d see that,” you said when you had finally made it up to him at the entrance of the restaurant. “I’m glad about it though,” you added. The red-head took another glance at you and put his hand on your back, pushing the tiniest bit to get you to move.

A butler took both of you to a table at the far back, purposefully chosen by your date. In his mind, the privacy of the spot would allow him to be intimate with his desire for affection. One that, he wasn’t at all experienced with. So if he humiliated himself, at least it would be in private.

As soon as you were sat at the table, Hisoka’s menacing smirk emerged. Both of you got some red wine, complimenting the bloodlust seeping through the air. Your date couldn’t stop looking at you, it caused you to blush. And then, you were brought back to reality by the man himself.

“I can’t wait to fight you one day (y/n). This night is just an appetizer. I want to get to know my future opponent and their likings~” this was probably as far as he could go for at least these few minutes. Hisoka had yet to confess his actual intentions towards pursuing you.

You quickly grew upset, the energy you spent looking forward to this ‘date’ was nothing but a waste now. He just wanted to fight you, of course.

The night went surprisingly well; the two of you eating fine meats and desserts, having casual conversation, sometimes drifting towards both of your nen abilities. However, Hisoka got the courage he felt uncomfortable not having and decided to hold your hand while you waited for the butler to bring back the check. His sharp nails massaged your skin, touching your knuckles and squeezing from time to time. This was his biggest advance so far, and you seemed to like it from what he could tell.

He imagined that if just that simple touch delighted you, how would you feel if he showed affection towards you in a much more different way. Still, he would want to hold your hand as he was doing now.

Walking out of the restaurant and into the night, fingers intertwined and taking quiet steps down the street, Hisoka could feel your satisfaction. Yet, he wasn’t entirely pleased with what would become the end of this night’s affair.

In a bold but loving move, you were grabbed by the waist and made to look up at the red and purple-haired man. Golden eyes stared at you as he said “may I kiss you?~” he giggled, and you mumbled a quiet “yes” to him.

A pale hand made its way to your cheek, the other folding around your torso and taking place at your back. The owner of those hands pulling you closer, humming as he did so. When you finally felt the contact of his pink lips, you immediately kissed back, astounded by the softness of the action. Your arms went around his neck when he deepened the kiss, the hand he laid on your cheek joining his other on your waist.

When you pulled away, your head went straight for the crook of his neck, hugging him and nestling your nose between his collarbone and neck. He giggled at your actions and felt content when he realized you were flustered by him. I can only imagine how she will feel once I make my attractions known to her~ he thought.

********

Hisoka and you had been going out for a while now, even your friends knew but rather decided not to fret much about it. You remembered Killua saying that if you did end up fighting Hisoka, he himself would prepare your funeral only to say “I told you so” during the ceremony.

You had gotten comfortable with the idea that at first, he seemed only interested in quenching his bloodlust towards you, but as of recently, and ever since your first date, he had become affectionate.

That’s what brought you to today, hanging out at Hisoka’s room in Heaven´s Arena. A large glass pane allowed you to contemplate the view of the many buildings from the top, on the 200th floors. You were sat on the white couch, waiting for your lover to accompany you after he had gone to the bathroom.

You no longer heard the clicking of his heels against the floor, he came in barefoot and sat with you on the sofa, placing an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him, until you laid your head between his shoulder and chest.

“I’m guessing you’re enjoying the view a lot,” he said while looking down at you. “I can tell you that it would look much better from the bed~” a blush rose to your cheeks when he said that, pretty much insinuating what he wanted from you.

Suddenly, he grabbed ahold of your hips, pulling you on top of him. You gasped at his actions, and at that moment he took the chance to kiss you roughly. With newfound confidence, you started rolling your hips so that your abdomen and his would touch, teasing both of you. He let out a low moan and draped his hands below your thighs, pulling you up and taking your bodies to the bed.

Resting on white satin sheets, you moaned when he pressed a hand on the part of your body you had been teasing him with.

“Is it here you want me to touch you?~” he said, a smirk laying on his face. You shook your head and wrapped your hands around his white and pink shirt, helping him pull it off. Then came off both your shirt and bra.

“What does this mean Hisoka?” you asked, suddenly nervous and wondering if this was what he really wanted. A few months ago he had made it clear his intentions were for his pleasure and his only, a fight between you both.

Harsh kisses were left on your neck, lips traveling all the way up to your ear, a lick of his tongue and then he said what you had always wanted to hear; “I’m showing my love for you, of course.”

You closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his lips and hands traveling downwards, caressing your skin till lips licked around your right nipple, a hand going to praise your other breast, while another went further down to slip between your sweatpants. You gasped and heard his voice hushing you and rubbing your cheek with his nose.

“Let me take these off for you,” he said, and with a motion of his hand, bungee gum wrapped around the bottom of your pants, pulling them off of you. A giggle escaped from your mouth and with a simple movement, helped him remove his shirt.

“Now we’re a little bit more even,” you said, a moan escaping you later when a long finger slipped through your panties and ran along your core, Hisoka hummed at the feeling of wetness coating his finger. He quickly removed his own light grey sweatpants as well as your underwear. You furrowed your eyebrows wondering why he hadn’t taken his underwear off as well.

“I want to save the surprise for a few more minutes~” he looked at you while responding to your unspoken question. You didn’t hear him speak after that because his tongue began to touch at your clit, lapping at it and then flattening. Soft moans left your lips when he later added two fingers to the mix, those helping to stimulate your tight walls, his lips sucking on your entrance.

“Ah, Hisoka… there” you moaned when his fingers started thrusting and curling upwards to find the spot where he knew would cause a delightful reaction from you. When he did find it, fingernails caressed the wetness inside of you, and your moans intensified in volume.

“I see, that’s where you like it, very good knowledge for when I take you,” his words sent a shiver down your spine, back arching off the soft bedsheets.

“Please! I’m going to cum soon!” you yelped the words in between moans, his fingers and tongue fastening their movements until you finally let yourself release on his mouth and skilled fingers.

Heavy breaths escaped your mouth, and even so when he grabbed under your arms to pull you up from your resting position. Kneeling on the bed, feet resting on top of the pillows and eyes set on your lover. Hisoka finally removed his underwear, cock large, and blessed with thickness was standing up straight almost hitting his abdomen.

You stared at his erection with fascination and knew exactly what he wanted from you at that moment he let it spring free from its confinements. Setting yourself down until your face met his dick, a soft hand rested upon his girth and started to move up and down, the other made its way close to his tip, helping on guiding it close to your mouth.

“You’re doing amazing, keep going baby, I like that!” Hisoka moaned and grabbed your (h/c) hair, soft strands wrapping around his long fingers. By this point, you had managed to put half of his cock down your throat, trying to not gag by holding the rest of it in your hands, one of them going to cup his balls.

“Just a little bit more my love~” he said, grunts still leaving his mouth and being the praise you needed to move your head up and down on his member. When a loud moan left his lips, hands gripping your hair pulled you off of him, leaving you clueless as for his reasons to stop.

“I believe we’re both ready for the main attraction, aren’t we?” he asked, taking a soft look at your face. No sign of a smirk on his face, a gentle smile resting on his lips. You felt the appreciation and care he was having for you, this infatuation being covered before by his lust for blood. You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, helping him lower your body down onto the mattress again.

His hands took a hold of your hips, face looking down as he aligned his cock with your entrance. Once you felt the pressure of something foreign entering you, the head of his dick, a hiss left your mouth, the grip you had on his neck and shoulders tightening a bit. He let out a low moan and praised you: “feel that entering you love, my cock feels so warm inside of you, mhm~delicious.”

With a steady pace, he started thrusting when his member had gone deep in you. Moans adorned the once silent room. The feeling of his dick hitting just the perfect spot caused tiny shouts to slip out of you, the wetness on your clit pleasuring both of you as he went in and out with the movement of his hips.

Hisoka thought back on his fingers hitting your g-spot and so with his member, he made a harsh motion to do the same thing.

“Ah… oh!” you screamed once you felt the continuous hard thrusts Hisoka was peppering you with. You yelled his name, his face coming to hide at your neck, leaving marks on your collarbone that would definitely show up even in the dark of night.

“Scream it again for me, will you~” he murmured in your ear as his moans got louder, blessing you with this everlasting memory of his voice showcasing such pleasure.

“Hisoka! Don’t stop, please… ah! Go faster!” your wishes were the only thing he wanted to accomplish, as well as finding his own release. With the strength he was saving for this moment, his hips pounded, coming in contact with your skin, cock slamming and hitting all the places inside you that had never been touched in such ways before.

An overwhelming feeling started to develop on your abdomen, arching your back when you felt liquid pouring out of you, a loud moan encapsulating you cumming. Hisoka was more than happy at seeing your clit dripping with white cum. He was more than satisfied.

Soon came his turn to spill his seed, cock trapping itself near your cervix, cum dripping and filling you whole. His pleasure being transfixed through the loud moan of your name: “(y/n)... ah!”

He stayed still for a few minutes, letting you catch your breath before pulling out. A small wince left your mouth once you felt his dick leaving your hole. His body went beside you, pulling you to the same position you were on in the couch, your head laying on his chest, looking out at the city.

Sleep was more than just an option for you right now, more like a craving, with eyes already closed, you felt his chin rest on the top of your head, hair serving as a pillow for his head. In a soft voice coming out as a whisper, you uttered the words you would have never guessed could come out of your mouth, directed at Hisoka.

“I love you…” and so you were out like a light. With a blank face, Hisoka kept looking out at the buildings that would never come as close to being the height of Heaven’s Arena. Then he looked down at you, eyes softening and a small smile adorning his lips.

“I love you as well my fruit.”

#hisoka x reader #hisoka #Hunter X Hunter #hunter x hunter imagine #hisoka morow #hisoka smut #hisoka fluff #hisoka imagine #hisoka oneshot #hunter x hunter x reader

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narniaandplowmen · 4 years

Text

to say the truth (or lose his love)

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier Also on AO3 2898 words.

Part 1 of the to say the truth (or lose his love) series

General Audiences / No Archive Warnings Apply Complete

In order to fulfil his contract, Geralt has to either kiss his true love, or find the Faery Queen's lost son. He assumes the latter will be easiest.

Jaskier had been feeling antsy for almost the entire day now. He didn't exactly know when it started, but as he looked at the apple Geralt had handed him in lieu of lunch, he suddenly realised that his insides were shaking and he was not at all hungry.

“There's a town three hours north.” Geralt announced as Jaskier was contemplating the implications of his ever-growing anxiety.

"Ah! Lovely! An actual bed to sleep in tonight!” He tried to measure his voice, but he knew Geralt could hear the artificiality of it. He had never been a very good actor.

“Hm.”

As they travelled in uncharacteristic silence, Jaskier's antsy feelings only grew and grew. Instead of becoming louder, as he usually did when he was nervous, he turned almost as quiet as the stoic Witcher himself.

“You okay bard?”

“What? Oh! Just looking at these beautiful trees, and all those-” Jaskier’s voice broke as he suddenly realised that alongside the path grew "buttercups." Fuck.

“You sure you're okay?”

“I'm sure!" Jaskier was sure he was not okay, and he did not know who he was trying to get to believe otherwise.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Fae.” Geralt grumbled before the bard could even ask what the new contract was. "Been stealing the grain. Poisoning the cattle. The mayor's wife is about to give birth, they're fearing a changeling.”

“Aha.” Jaskier just replied. “Are you waiting till tomorrow?”

“Sun’s still up for another few hours. Might as well try to find them now.”

“Yes. Right. Well. I'll just. Wait here for you to come back. Don't step in any circles, okay?”

And off the bard went, waving his lute questioningly at the innkeeper. Geralt rose an eyebrow, surprised that Jaskier hadn't insisted on coming along, as he usually did. Not that he minded. When the little town's mayor had told him about the village’s problems, Geralt had dreaded the prospect convincing Jaskier to stay behind almost as much as he was dreading fulfilling the contract. Not that he was going to complain, dealing with those damned Fae would be enough of a bother without the ever-blabbering Jaskier digging himself into holes he would not be able to climb out of. Still, weird. The sharp smell of anxiety hadn’t left the bard since early that morning, and Geralt made a mental note to keep a closer eye on him. Just to make sure he stayed okay. Not because they were friends , but, well, Geralt couldn’t imagine that an anxious bard could earn a lot of coin. And winter was coming up, and Geralt wasn’t so heartless as to leave Jaskier for the winter without any sort of security that the man would be okay. Not that he spent his time in Kaer Morhen worrying about the bard. No, they weren’t even friends.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Fae were not hard to find. Geralt had stumbled upon the first circle less than half an hour after leaving the village, meaning they had been living there for longer than the mayor had insinuated. Which also, Geralt realised, meant it would be more difficult to make them leave. He grunted and grabbed one of the sugar cubes he usually reserved for Roach, tossing it into the grass in the middle of the circle of blooming dandelions. A voice like the softest bells immediately replied.

“Witcher! Our Queen has been expecting you!”

Their Queen. That explained the proximity to the village. If the Court was big enough that it was ruled by a Queen rather than a Lady, it was properly able to defend itself against angry, overconfident villagers.

“What an honour,” Geralt grunted sarcastically.

“She's straight ahead,” the little fairy, a tiny green thing, pointed. “Take a right at the Oak, she's waiting near the buttercups.”

The creature said the final word as if they were supposed to mean something to him. He supposed they did. The bard's clothes always had a buttercup pattern. Not that he had been staring at the bard, no. He had just noticed it whilst repairing one of Jaskier's doubles. Just to stop his whining, not because he cared. He was just a nuisance, making his life more difficult every step of the way.

Ignoring the fairy's pointed look and carefully manoeuvring around the circle, Geralt made his way to the promised Queen.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“You're back early! I don't suppose the Fae were incredibly forthcoming and ready to move immediately?” There almost seemed to be hope in the bard's voice.

“No.” He sighed. “They want payment.”

“Of course they do. And surely they weren't as forthcoming as to actually tell you what they want?”

“They were.”

“Wait what?” the surprise in Jaskier's voice was genuine. “Since when does m- a Fae Queen clearly state what she wants? That makes it suspiciously easy.”

“How did you know there was a Queen?”

“What did she want? Honey? Fish? Coin?" Jaskier pointedly ignored the question.

“True love's kiss.”

“What.” Geralt almost wished he could have a painting made of the stunned look on the bard’s face. Just because it looked so funny, not because it made the bright blue eyes stand out gorgeously, not because it emphasised the beautiful curve of the young man’s eyebrows, not because- Geralt quickly shook his head.

“She wants me to kiss my true love. Or, alternatively, she wants me to deliver her son home.”

“Ah. So. Great, I'll- I'll go get my stuff. Leave you to- to find Yennefer.”

“Why would I try to find Yennefer?”

“You just said 'true love'?”

The Witcher rolled his eyes. “Yennefer is not my true anything. Now, did you see any suspicious adult men here during your performance?”

“Did I what now?”

Geralt started humming.

“Geralt! Are you singing?! And not even one of my songs?”

“Sh! I’m trying to remember...” And, to Jaskier’s flabbergasted surprise, the Witcher started to softly sing.

“Twenty years he’s come and gone, in winters lies he here.

But now, my child, the time is come, for him he holds so dear

to say the truth, or lose his love, the lute will let you see

my son, at last, should travel home with him he loves or me,

to him he loves or me. ”

Jaskier stared at him, eyes and mouth wide open. “You can sing.”

“That’s not the point, Jask-”

“You. Can. Sing!” The bard now truly sounded offended. “And you say that’s not the point? Geralt, How many times have I tried to get you to sing along with my songs? My ballads? And not even just in public! You refused to sing when we were sitting next to a campfire gods knows where-”

“Jaskier!”

“I have to say Geralt, if I knew it took a meeting with m- with a Fae to get you to sing I would have-”

“Your lute,” Geralt interrupted. “The lute should reveal the fairy prince. Did you see anyone strange whilst I was gone?”

“You can sing.”

“Anyone in the audience? Jaskier, please.”

“Nobody in the audience looked out of the ordinary, Geralt. And I doubt that the fairy prince would calmly stop to listen to music so near to his mother’s court.”

“The Queen said that she knew her son was in the village. We have to ask around, see if anyone here disappears during winters. That must be something people notice.”

“You’d be surprised,” Jaskier laughed, and Geralt couldn’t help but detect a bit of bitterness in the bard’s voice. “But if you’re so insistent, I’ve been asked to perform again when everyone has put their children to bed. So you can sit there and endlessly wait till your medallion starts vibrating or whatever, but I am pretty sure it won’t. There will be no fairy princes in the audience tonight.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There were no fairy princes in the audience that night. Instead of staying hidden in the shadows, Geralt had wandered through the inn during Jaskier’s performance, carefully observing the guests. He had spoken with the innkeeper, the mayor, a few women who were all too willing to gossip about the ins and outs of everyone in the village, but he had heard nothing that could help. He kept thinking about the words the Queen had sung. The time had come for someone to say the truth? Who? The person the prince held dear? The prince himself? And why would the prince lose that person if the truth wasn’t spoken? He stared blankly as Jaskier carefully wiped the lute down, inspecting it for any potential damages. The lute will let you see.

“Jaskier.”

“Oh, are you done brooding?”

“I need to borrow your lute.”

“Wait, are you telling me you cannot only sing, but also play? Twenty years we have been travelling together, twenty long years and-”

“Not to play. To see.”

“Listen Geralt, if you don’t know the difference between glasses and an instrument I don’t know what to-”

“The song, Jaskier. It says the lute will let me see the prince, so maybe I have to hold the lute.”

The bard looked at him doubtfully.

“I won’t let any harm befall it. I know how important it is for you, Jaskier. I promise I won’t damage it. I will protect it like- Like I protect Roach.”

“Fine. But if you-”

“If something happens to it, I will do everything in my power to repair or replace it. I swear.”

“Good.” Jaskier bit his lip. “And make sure you return it before dinner. This is a well-paying crowd.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Geralt felt like a fool, wandering through the village holding Jaskier’s lute. It didn’t help that the lute wasn’t helping. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, nobody knew of anyone disappearing during winters, and, as far as he could track, there were no secret lovers either. So he did the only thing he could think of, and, lute in hand, walked back into the forest.

This time it took even less to find the fairy Queen. She seemed to be waiting for him, unsurprised that he came alone.

“You brought the lute.”

Geralt nodded. “I am sorry, your highness, but I have been unable to find your son. If you could but tell me how he looks li-”

“Give it to me.”

“What?”

“The lute. Give it to me.”

“It is not mine to give.”

The Queen smiled and waved her hand. “Don’t worry, Witcher, I know how much it means to the one it belongs to. He will get it back.” Geralt just looked at her. “He will get it back, whole, undamaged, in the exact state as it is now, before sunset.” the Queen specified. “I mean no harm to your bard.”

“He’s not my-”

“The lute, Witcher.”

Geralt sighed and, carefully not to enter the circle, handed the lute to the brown-haired lady.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She did not break it. She did not enchant it, or cut its strings, or anything else. Instead, she played. One of Jaskier’s songs, Geralt recognised it. Not that he listened to the bard when he played, he tried to tune it out most of the time, but it wasn’t like he was completely able to avoid hearing the endless stream of music that joined him every place he went. After that song was done she played another, and another, and another. All of them written by Jaskier. She did not sing, though some of her servants would hum the occasional line or dance along.

It was getting late when Geralt spoke again. “You are a talented player, Lady, but I promised I would return this instrument to its owner before dinnertime. I could fetch you another lute from the village, if you want?” He knew from experience that even slightly antagonising a Fae court would make his task of getting them to leave exponentially more difficult.

“Ah, no, I think I like this lute better. It carries memories, you know,” she replied, continuing to play. Geralt was surprised at how suspiciously amiable this entire contract had gone. Any other Fae would have deviously tried to trick him by now, or forcibly dragged him into the circle. “Besides, the lute is not yours. I will return it to him who owns it.”

Fuck.

“You want me to fetch Jaskier.”

“Oh, there is no need for that. He is already on his way. He is pretty pissed, Witcher.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The moment the words left the Queen’s mouth, Geralt heard the distant footsteps of the bard. He indeed sounded angry, but, as Jaskier came closer, Geralt noticed he smelled more of fear than of fury. Geralt frowned. Jaskier was never afraid. Sure, he would be scared of husbands he cuckolded, or the monsters Geralt fought, but never scared like this.

“What the fuck, Geralt. I lend you my lute, you promised you would keep it safe, and you hand it over to someone else? A Fae Queen? Are you mad? Are you short of a few marbles? A few thousand marbles, perhaps?”

“Hello, Julian.” The Queen said, before Geralt could say anything in defence of his actions. “You know I won’t ever let any harm come to your instrument.”

“I know m- I know. But he didn’t!”

“I promised him I would not harm the instrument, and I promised that you would have it back by sunset. He had no reason not to give the lute to me.”

“He still should not have. Give it back.”

“Come and get it.”

“Why now? Why like this?”

“It’s been twenty years, Julian. It’s time. And since you refuse to do it, I am forcing your hand. He has to know. You’re being unfair to him by keeping silent. He will discover someday, anyway. You have to make a choice, either reveal it now, voluntarily, or I will force you.”

“Fine.” And before Geralt could say anything, before he could step forward, grab Jaskier and drag him away, Jaskier stepped headfirst into the fairy circle and grabbed his lute from the Queen's outstretched hand.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He didn’t die. Or faint. Or grow old rapidly. Jaskier just stood there, next to the Fae Queen, cradling his lute, and nothing changed. Geralt blinked. That was not true. Something did change. He became a little taller. His ears were a little bit more pointy. His smile a little wider, and everything about him became more regal than any king Geralt had ever seen.

“What. The. Fuck, Jaskier.”

“Geralt,” the bard said, with a mocking bow, “meet my mum. Mum, Geralt. Though you already knew that.” He stepped out of the circle, still firmly clutching his lute, and Jaskier became, well, Jaskier again. Not that he had ever not been Jaskier, but still.

Geralt just stared.

“I am sorry Geralt, I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I didn’t know you, and then Filavandrel gave me this lute, and- and I just sort of started following you, and- You never even admitted I was your friend! The only time we ever talked about Fae you just told me you thought all of them were cheating bastards!” Geralt winced. “Yennefer never told you? I am sure she knew. And- I mean, I never aged! We have been travelling for two decades and I still look as young as when we first met! Do you mean to tell me you never noticed?”

“I thought- Your salves and-”

“Those can’t completely stop someone from ageing! I-” Jaskier’s voice suddenly went from exasperated to really quiet. “I’m sorry. I’ll go grab my stuff from the inn. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no Fae will ever harm you. I- I’ll see you in a bit, mum.” And with those words, Jaskier turned away and left.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“He did want to tell you, you know.” The Queen’s voice sounded from behind him. “He was just afraid of losing you. I hoped this would give you two a push in the right direction, but it seemed like I was wrong.”

“Jaskier’s a faery?”

“Jaskier is my son. He is High Prince of the Summer Court, and will inherit my throne in a couple of centuries.”

“Centuries? He is immortal?”

“As long as he doesn’t get himself into too much trouble, yes, he is.”

“Jaskier’s immortal. He won’t die.” Geralt stared in the direction the bard had disappeared in as his brain and heart rapidly embraced feelings had refused to acknowledge for the past twenty years.

“He has lived for over six hundred years, and he will live at least another ten times that.”

Geralt ran.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

By the time he arrived at the inn, Jaskier had already packed his belongings and was saying goodbye to Roach. “Jaskier!”

“I’m sorry Geralt.”

“I love you.”

There was a loud twang as Jaskier’s prized lute hit the ground.

“I love you. And I didn’t tell you, and I didn’t tell myself, and- I thought you would die, Jaskier! I thought you would die, and leave me here, and it was easier just to pretend I didn’t like you than to admit it and see you grow old and leave-” Geralt’s words were cut off as the bard’s, his bard’s, lips hit his. The smell of flowers, the taste of honey, the soft touch of Jaskier’s hand on his cheek- It was beautiful and gorgeous and real.

“You don’t hate me? For keeping this secret so long?”

Geralt just shook his head and kissed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The village’s cattle were safe, in the end. So was the harvest, and the mayor’s child, or any other baby born, for that matter. The Witcher had fulfilled his contract and received his coin, and by the time a young Oxenfurt graduate passed through the village singing a song of a white-haired Witcher and his Faery love, the people had long forgotten about their own encounter with the White Wolf of Rivia. It was not like they could know that every winter, Kaer Morhen bloomed wild with tiny, yellow flowers. Or that, every summer solstice, the Fae Queen’s celebrations were attended by a witcher. Or that, for many, many, many years to come, a humble bard and a friend to humanity, with rings on their fingers, would travel the Continent, never leaving the other’s side.

#jaskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geraskier #geraskier ff #the witcher ff #q #onceuponadisneyqueue #onceuponadisneypotter

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procrastinatorimagines · 4 years

Text

What to Expect

Fandom: Chicago Med / One Chicago

Character/s: Reader x Will Halstead, Natalie, Maggie

Warning/s: pregnancy

Word Count: 1,118

Request: Hi! It you are taking requests could I please ask for a Will Halstead imagine? The reader, his wife is also a doctor and while on her shift she feels sick and Will suggests her to be examined. He's there by her side while Natalie takes a look at her and they find like that they will be parents! Thank you 🥰❤

Summary: You were nautious and light headed because of stress, you’d been working long hours with very little sleep, that had to be the reason, what other reason could there be?

“I just want to make sure you’re alright,” your husband, Will Halstead, said, for the fifth time that shift. You’d been feeling a little off this morning before you’d left for work, you’d figured it’d clear up as the day went on but it’d only gotten worse. You still refused to be examined though, you needed the beds for actual patients and you very much had a job to do.

“Will I swear to god if you say that one more time-” you slapped him in the arm with the glove in your hand and he shook his head.

“Doctors really are the worst when it comes to being treated,” he sighed, taking a step back but not entirely backing down.

“Treated?” You heard Maggie say from behind, turning to see her walking over, great, just what you needed was more people trying to get you admitted, “is everything alright?”

“I’m just feeling a little under the weather, it’s nothing Maggie really,” you told her, glaring at your husband, “Will’s just overcautious.”

Will shook his head, “you’re nautious, you threw up this morning, you’ve barely eaten anything all day and don’t think I didn’t notice that dizzy spell you had earlier,” he listed, folding his arms. You looked to Maggie for some kind of support but the look on her face told you she wasn’t on your side.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” She asked, and noticing the look on your face she added, “honestly, Y/N, how long?”

“A few... weeks I guess,” you admitted with a shrug, which earned you a frown from Will, who had only noticed this morning, “but it usually passes after lunch, it’s not a big deal.” An expression you couldn’t quite interpret dawned on Maggie’s face.

“So what you’re saying is...” she said slowly, “that this is a morning... sickness?” You blinked, the look of shock on your face probably mirroring the one you could see on Will’s. You were a doctor damn it, how had you not thought about that? You’d been so focused on work and your pile of cases that you’d assumed you were just stressed, sleep deprived and eating too much take out, why hadn’t pregnancy crossed your mind?

Will turned to you and put a hand on your shoulder. “Well I mean, are you late?” He checked, and a quick mental calculation told you that yes, you were. You simply nodded a little and he squeezed your shoulder.

“It won’t take long to get checked out,” Maggie said, signalling for you to zip it when you opened your mouth to protest, “I’m not having you passing out or worse in my ED, it’s better to be safe than sorry, got it?” She said it like a question but you knew it wasn’t. Sighing you rubbed your temple before nodding.

“Fine, it’s not like we have actual patients to treat or anything,” you said finally, following Maggie and Will to one of the open treatment rooms. If this was... that, you’d rather take a test yourself at home, in private, not in an ED full of your colleagues and friends. But it was going to be on your mind for the rest of shift, and Will’s, and Maggie’s too now, so you sat on the bed as instructed.

“I’ll get Nat,” Maggie patted your leg, “she’s just finished up with a patient now, it shouldn’t take too long,” she winked at you and was gone, leaving you and Will alone in the room.

“You alright?” He asked, taking your hand.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s definitely unexpected, but we don’t even know what it’s going to say, we aren’t exactly unsafe,” you reasoned, trying to calculate when the hell this could have happened. You and Will were married for god’s sake, you weren’t exactly strangers to intimacy, but you were also doctors, and even if you didn’t always use condoms you were definitely on the pill.

“Not always 100%,” he replied, not to you specifically, you realised as you saw the slightly distant look in his eyes. You weren’t the only one trying to make sense of the fact that you might be pregnant. Sure, you’d talked about kids, but with the way work was at the moment you’d shelved that conversation for a later date, you were in no way prepared for this...

Natalie came in then with Maggie, a little confused but happy to give you a quick exam. “You said you’ve been feeling like this for a few weeks?” She double checked and you nodded.

“Okay well, then it’s probably easier to do a quick ultrasound rather than take bloods first, if what you’ve been experiencing these past few weeks is morning sickness then you’d most likely be far enough along to see,” she told you, knowing you knew all of this but still, it was pretty comforting to just let her go through it. “Lift up your shirt?” She squeezed the gel on your belly and got the monitor ready, you could have sworn Will wasn’t breathing as she turned it on.

As soon as she began you felt your heart rate pick up, unsure of what you actually wanted to happen right now, and how you would react to either outcome. You’d forgotten how to breath yourself until you heard the quiet sound of a heart beat that wasn’t your own.

Nat grinned as she stopped moving her hand, letting you see on the monitor the very early form of a fetus appearing on the screen. “Oh my god...” you breathed, looking to Will, who was still staring at the tiny beginnings of your baby.

“What is that, about eight weeks?” He asked, unblinking by the looks of things.

“Looks like,” Nat smiled, clicking a button on the monitor to keep the image on the screen as she passed you a wipe to clean the gel off your belly. As you did it dawned on you a little, there was something growing inside of there...

“Wow,” was all Will said, finally looking back to you, “that’s really a baby.”

“That’s really our baby,” you replied, taking a shaky breath, “Will...”

“I’ll give you guys a minute, congratulations,” Nat smiled, pushing a reluctant Maggie out of the room, you could hear her shout congratuations as she was pulled out, probably a little too loudly but you were still in too much shock to register the fact that everyone in the ED probably now knew.

Will bent down and kissed you on the forehead, then the cheek, then the mouth. “Y/N... we’re having a baby.”

Putting your hand on your stomach lightly you pulled him in for another kiss, “we’re having a baby.”

#will halstead #chicago med #one chicago #will halstead imagine #chicago med imagine #will halstead imagines #chicago med imagines #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #will halstead one shot #chicago med one shot #one chicago one shot #one shot

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rametarin · 3 years

Text

And further thoughts about the yaoi paddles.

If you’re under 20, and just now learning that fandom seniors in their late 20s, 30s, 40s, even low 50s, used to run around slapping eachother on the ass with yaoi paddles in anime and comic conventions after anime became a household media staple, you probably have.. questions.

You’re probably thinking, “Wow!! It was really lawless and anarchistic back then, wasn’t it! They never heard about personal space or sexual harassment laws! SOCIETY must have been SO different, back then!”

NO. I cannot stress enough, the Yaoi Paddle phenomenon was borne PURELY because the demographic MOST LIKELY to protest and be wet blankets about everything fun and sexual and admittedly VERY SKETCHY sometimes in fiction, and ALWAYS bad in reality.. turned off and said virtually nothing. Wokesters that’d protest about the environment and sexual assault against women would take off their Problem Glasses by night and act like paddling was harmless, contextually acceptable behavior.

Yaoi Paddle shit appeared because something absolutely magical happened in scifi and fantasy fandoms. It survived purely because boys didn’t complain, or their complaints were not taken seriously. I promise you, I assure you, if you grew up in the late 80s, your night time TV was INUNDATED with heavy handed messages about how sexual harassment (always male-on-woman flavored) was wrong, even proxy or indirect violence to women (tossing rubber gloves in their lap) was wrong, and to never, ever, ever do that thing or they’d rub your nose in it and consider you mentally diseased until the day you died.

Fandom was always niche, with sci-fi and fantasy stuff being off in its own little corner. Conventions, before the internet was king, was one of few places where more rural, disparate suburban and city-definition isolated geeks, nerds and dreamers could get together and just cut loose. Comic books, novels, video games. All that GOOD shit. But if you knew a girl in the 80s and 90s, you knew a girl that knew a girl that was getting them to be less tolerant and “more conscious and aware” (80s and 90s parlance for Woke) and when that happened, a new persona was created. A new bunch of dialogue options, created.

Suddenly they didn’t say stuff like, “Ew. Why is this character dressed like a SLUT? Typical male writers. Like we’d ever draw ourselves in this or put ourselves in this.” Because that’d be a personal, subjective opinion. Instead, the option to say, “It’s endemic in our western culture that male chauvinist authors and writers in a patriarchal system exploit femininity in media and reproduce misogynistic culture.”

And so assured this was true by mob mentality AND the idea that learned, educated, acredited and tenured academics had this opinion, they were scientists, and so they were right, permeated. Suddenly girl-fans had outlets to have justified apprehension for everything they saw and didn’t like or, if they actually liked it, STILL interpreted it through their lenses to be on, “the right side of history.”

It made fandom miserable and a sausage fest for a while, if only out of fear of driving away female friends. You couldn’t share that shit unless you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that your female peers and friends wouldn’t disregard you like a “typical misogynistic western male” for enjoying that stuff.

Sentiments and peer pressure thoughts emerged. Like, “The comic industry is hostile and cruel to women that try and enter it, and they exploit the image of women for cheap dollars.” So they simply weren’t interested in comics- mostly- unless the comics were written by women and sold with that virtue in mind. In which case, you had boys glowingly mentioning just how much they liked this authentically written adventure by this female comic author. Isn’t that just so special? Not like those horrid anti-woman cigar smoking old man stories, right?

There was always something to nag and get vitriolic about with the media. That’s part of why the Whedon brand of feminist writing got so popular in the 90s. it was low hanging fruit of peppy “sassy” girl characters doing girly things. They weren’t like “other” girls written in comics and cartoons. They were actually girly. Not idealized infantalized children, like those horrible white men write, you know.

Well. Things were looking really bleak for the forseeable future. Lots of boys just felt like comics and cartoons were lost to girls that weren’t specifically into them, and that meant more sausage fest conventions or hobbies, and signing off hope on those things being respected and accepted on the merits of what they are and were. The girls had embraced serials-filed-off radfem rhetoric and lenses, sometimes without even knowing the origins of where those truisms like the Male Gaze even came from, just assuming it was true and indisputable. And it complimented their insecurities, so they’d embrace that shit until they couldn’t anymore.

And then.. something absolutely miraculous and amazing happened that blindsided this whole vitriolic culture.

Anime.

And amazingly, every complaint that a lot of nerdy girls had about the very much sanitized, policed and made PG writing and characterization of characters in western comics and cartoons, just... fucking up and vanished. Seemingly within a fucking YEAR, the entire social culture of Problem Finders, finding everything wrong about these stories, the characters, the writer and the company that produced them being misogynistic male chauvinism, dried up. Those voices quieted, or were shut out of the groups.

Media from Japan was some of the most infantilizing, sexist, tittelating shit compared to mainstream American comics and cartoons and video games, and girls fluttered to it like flies to shit. We had Buffy basically subverting boogymen that a bunch of girls had been taught were still relevant after the 1950s by fighting crime in melee combat with men, and winning, while wearing jogging pants and cracking sassy, like Lola Bunny being a “tough girl.”

Japan had doe eyed, waif bodied ballet dancers that basically farted iridescent glitter, hearts and all the symbols and shapes of the Lucky Charms, riding unicorns and fighting evil in cute outfits. Being childish and not at all mature or professional to show how womanly and competent they were, basically being overgrown 11 year old girls fresh off the playground swing set.

And the fangirls loved it. Those nagging voices that would speak up and remind them about misogynistic, male chauvinistic “societies” and culture? Just.. they fucking VANISHED from the mind for AN ENTIRE GENERATION. I’m not exaggerating. Tolerance and fun and innocence was back again. The problem-glasses felt too ostracized and alienated, or didn’t even want to wear them anymore for personal reasons, and the Radfem Baby Wokes just seemed to grow out of that collective hysteria and pretend it never happened and never existed.

That’s why the very EXISTENCE of Yaoi Paddles at conventions was just so fucking bizarre to those of us that lived up to that point. After, “Stay in your own personal space, boy. DON’T even TOUCH a GIRL unless she VERBALLY AND PUBLICLY CONSENTS or it’s proof you’re just living up to this misogynistic, objectifying society’s evil history!” was drilled into us, day on the playground by day on the playground, by women with axes to grind and good-boy sycophants performing sharing those sentiments for brownie points, it was so fucking surreal to IMAGINE girls just running around sexually assaulting and physically assaulting random strangers because they thought they looked like cute, gay men.

It wasn’t that they didn’t know any better beforehand, it’s that they COMPLETELY put those sentiments away and up and decided, as girls, it was okay to violate male autonomy because they weren’t women, and “it’s okay to paddle a yaoi boy ^.^!” With NO self-awareness whatsoever.

The very fact it existed is testament to how attention starved boys were for girls approving gaze and playful interaction, that they’d tolerate some pocky fingered little cow stranger smacking them on the ass with a plank of wood because it was a socially acceptable way to just interact with girls in their lonely assed fandom and interest. It was an acceptable way to meet girls and positively interact. That’s the degrading bullshit boys said virtually nothing about at the hayday of yaoi paddles, purely to be welcoming to girls in anime and hentai approving spaces.

WE GREW UP hearing and watching horror stories and boogymen stories about true crime and sitcoms and crime shows about evil evil men violating the personal space of women for lewd and lecherous reasons. We had it drilled into our heads that the tolerance for boys and men doing that was negatives, and the general sentiment was men caught doing that (to women, or children of any sex) were effectively free game for any violence you personally felt like unloading on them, confident that in such outraged rape and sexual assault hating times, juries would excuse that passion as a defense.

So if you look back on the era of Yaoi Paddles and think. “WOW. That must be like driving cars before they invented seat belts and cough medicine before they invented the drug safety and scheduling legal system!”.. NO.

It was not like the 50s-70s, where many of the rules hadn’t been written yet so it was anarchy and chaos. Yaoi Paddles existed almost PURELY because girls HAD no rules if they didn’t want to respect them. The Yaoi Paddle phenomenon flew in direct opposition to how interactions were supposed to go, and ABSOLUTELY NO ONE would tolerate the reverse; no cis straight man could walk around randomly smacking women on the ass with a plank of even foam in pantomime, or ‘floating hand’ pretending to be a perverted character. The double standard was GLARING. The Double Standard was a fucking bugbear that had grown from a tiny screaming goblin and was now hanging upside down from the ceiling, roaring.

But because it was GIRLS inflicting it on BOYS, absolutely no party cared enough to raise a stink about it. The Radfems kept their mouths shut, because boys were the recipients. The Radfem Sympathizers really wanted to spank boys, so suddenly they couldn’t find their problem glasses and instead put on their neko ears. The boys were either stoic and amused by it or really wanted to be seen as cool and not buzzkills, so they tolerated to reveled in it.

Many times when you hear about things that happened either when you were a child just too young to really personally experience a thing, or before you were born, we’re quick to assume it’s a medieval place and the people were so uncultured as to have never pondered the social problems of spanking one another on the ass unprovoked. Violation of personal space, personal sovereignty- all that. That was NOT okay at the time. It happened because fujoshi decided it was okay and nobody argued with them to not do hat, or they were told to stop and did it anyway.

And as I’ve laid it out, that is the most bizarre and surreal element to the whole thing. They DID know better, but felt it didn’t apply to THEM because they were girls, and a girl slapping a boy on the ass “as a joke” didn’t mean anything- because it wasn’t happening TO them, FROM a man.

And irony of ironies, it was NEVER okay, EVER, throughout that entire era, for the reverse to be a thing. It was very specifically and exclusively not. As a man if you ran around slapping cute looking girls with the Yuri Paddle, you goin’ to either juvy hall, or prison, boi. Both sexes knew it. And yet, yaoi paddles STILL became a thing.

#history #yaoi paddles #90s fandom #early 00s fandom

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moonsofmars-writes · 4 years

Text

From the darkness below (life can still rise)

Fandom: 七つの大罪 - 鈴木央 | Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins - Suzuki Nakaba (Anime & Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Diane/Fairy King Harlequin Characters: Fairy King Harlequin, Diane (Nanatsu no Taizai) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, One Shot, king feels guilty about lots of stuff, diane doesn't like that, king and diane dancing!, Dancing, Romantic Fluff, Zine, written for the SPECTRUM zine

Summary: King visits the ruins of the old Fairy King's Forest for the first time in years. The last time he went there he was a criminal and racked with guilt, and he couldn't do anything to save the forest. But this time, Diane is with him. And this changes everything.

Notes: here’s my piece for the Spectrum zine @spectrumnntzine ! I got the prompt “black” and wrote some Kiane. King suffer a little here but luckily, Diane is with him.

Enjoy!

When he lands, a cloud of ashes and dirt rises from the ground. King clenches his mouth as dust covers his shoes and pants with a thin dark layer, then starts to fall, slowly, to the earth. Around him, the ground is covered with black mud and rubble, all that’s left of what were branches and leaves. King shivers and forces himself to look around, letting his eyes wander over the desolation surrounding him. The burned forest hasn’t changed since last time he was here. Somehow, the trees still stand, raising their slender branches to the sky. The wood is dark and dry, and King feels like it would crumble into ashes under his fingers if he touched it. Below, the twisted roots sink into the arid ground. Dirt and cinder cover the earth, almost obscuring the spider-web of cracks stretched across it. In his mind, the resemblance is disturbingly fitting. After all, this wasteland is a place of death and misery - death of the vegetation that once ruled it, death of the wildlife that made its home here, death of the Fairies he failed to protect. The place is the rotting cadaver of his beloved forest. Nothing but a monument to his own failure.

“Harlequin?” Diane’s voice is as soft as the gentle touch of her hand on his cheek. He breathes in and looks down to meet her eyes, loosening his grip on her. He was holding her tighter than he realized.

“Sorry,” he mutters as he buries his face in her hair. It feels nice and smells like flowers and hills, and it gives him an excuse to look away from the grim landscape around them.

Her head shakes slightly as she answers, “I’m fine - are you alright?”

Continue on AO3

He swallows before glancing around again. The scrawny trees look back at him like a jury of the dead. There used to be colours in their bark - light and dark brown, red, grey - sometimes almost invisible under the green mass of moss. There used to be colour in the earth where their roots sink - the light green of the grass, the hundreds of shades of the flowers; and in the air too, where butterflies flaunted their vibrant wings and birds flew from branch to branch with a beat of their vivid feathers. Nothing is left. King imagines them melting together as the fire consumed the forest, leaving behind only this nauseating, burned black.

“Yes,” he answers slowly, looking away, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Diane raises an eyebrow but says nothing as he lets her go. She eyes her surroundings, a hint of uneasiness in her violet gaze. Not for the first time, King wonders why she insisted on coming with him. He told her it wasn't necessary, that the sight was hardly worth the trip, but he knows better than pushing her when she makes up her mind. She can be very stubborn, he thinks, a faint smile curving his lips.

Truth be told, he doesn’t know why he wanted to come here. The new Fairy King's Forest is home now. He knew nothing waited for him here. Yet the desire to return had been growing in the back of his mind since the war ended until it was impossible to ignore. Maybe, he admits to himself as some he takes hesitant steps between the trees, he hoped something had changed. When he last came, he was still a traitor, wanted by the kingdom for a crime he didn't commit. Even to him, it feels like ages ago. It was easy to convince himself that it was worth visiting if just to check whether some semblance of life had returned. But on the ground he sees no sprout, and on the trees, no leaves. The entire place looks frozen in time, framed in the aftermath of its destruction. King clenches his jaw as he approaches a tree. After a moment, he finds the courage to touch its trunk. It doesn’t crumble under his fingers as he feared, but he can feel no life within its burned shell. It’s only a matter of time before it rots, leaving no trace of its existence but ashes scattered on the ground.

“We should leave." His voice sounds stiff and low, but he is grateful it's not trembling.

“Oh? But we just got here!” He hears Diane’s approach behind him, her soles crushing tiny pieces of burned wood. “Didn’t you want to take a look around?”

He shakes his head. “It’s useless. I … I was hoping that I would have been able to fix this, now that my wings have grown,” he admits, finally turning towards her. "But this place is ... well, look at it. It’s dead. If anything survived, if only a single bud sprouted, I could help it grow, but I can't bring what is dead back to life.” If he could, he thinks bitterly, he wouldn’t have lost so much, would he?

With his foot, he traces a line in the dirt. It stains his shoe with sludge, black like the charred wood and the burned bones he knows he will find if he looks well enough between the roots. Some are so tiny and thin and can’t come but from small animals. Others are bigger and King doesn’t even want to think who they belonged to.

"It was foolish of me to come here - and to bring you with me,” he mutters. “I should know by now that I can't erase my mistakes."

Diane gasps and King closes his mouth, pressing his lips together, though he knows he can’t take his words back. She hates it when he speaks like that about himself. He glances at her and tries to find something to say as he waits for her to berate him. But she doesn’t speak. She stands silently instead, her head tilted and teeth sinking in her bottom lip; she stares at him with thoughtful eyes, then, suddenly, she moves. King's brow furrows as he watches her walk around, eyes fixed on the ground. Near a tree, she stops and taps her foot on the soil, once, twice, making the dust lift and float. King hesitates, unsure how to ask what she is doing, and his eyebrows rise suddenly when she crouches and reaches for the earth with her hand.

"Diane! You shouldn't touch -"

"Of course you can't erase your mistakes," she says without looking up, "that's not how it works."

King sucks in air and closes his mouth, baffled. That’s … not how she usually answers him, when the argument comes up. The change doesn’t quite upset him, though he feels his stomach clench. She loves him, but if she starts to see how much a failure he was -

"But you can't deny," she continues, pressing her palm against the dark soil, "that you’re trying. You are doing what you can to be a good king, and you are Harlequin. I, our friends, your people, everyone thinks so. Yes, you made mistakes in the past, but you’re trying to make sure nothing like this will happen again. This is the only thing you can do, now.” When she turns towards him, a little smile has formed on her lips. “And anyway, you’re wrong. You can help this forest.”

King frowns. “No, I can’t."

Maybe she can't feel the sense of death that filters through the cracks on the trees' bark, but she is not blind. Her bond with the earth must be telling her there is no hope for this place.

"You know I can't revive these plants," he says through his teeth. "There is no life left inside them, I ... checked, the first time I came here." Those moments are etched in stone in his mind - fear and disbelief taking his breath away, his mind refusing to process what he saw, to acknowledge it was real. He looked for his sister first, then for the other Fairies, and when he couldn't find anyone he had examined the plants, stumbling from one to the other, desperately looking for something alive. "Nothing survived the purgatory fire," he finishes, bitterly.

Diane hums softly before beckoning him with her hand. "Come here,” she orders.

King frowns as he walks towards her, curious to see what caught her attention; as soon as he is close enough, she grabs his hand and pulls him to crouch at her side.

“You have to stop blaming yourself for everything that happened here,” she whispers. “It’s distracting you.”

“How can I?” His eyes drop to the dirt that now stains their shoes and calves. "I was the king of this forest and I left it unprotected." He smiles bitterly, shaking his head, "I can't even bring myself to regret it. I couldn't abandon Helbram and - and leaving led me to you," he adds softly. "No, I could never regret my decision. But when I remembered, when I realized that I abandoned my people for centuries, I chose to stay away. I thought it was for the best to surrender myself to the humans and take the blame for what Helbram did. The truth is that it was an easy option.” He swallows, feeling like there is dust in his throat. “One that didn't require me to face my people after I failed to protect them, after I left them, after what I let happen to Helbram -"

“Harlequin.” Diane’s grip on his hands becomes tighter. “Look at me.” Reluctantly, he meets her gaze. Her eyes burn like violet flames. “You know you had to stay. You told me.”

"If I came back -"

"You would have had to fight a war against humans. Many people would have died - more than the ones who lost their lives in the fire. You would have brought death here,” she gestures at the forest around them, “to your people, and to the humans who would have fought you. You saved lives when you decided not to come back.”

“But I should have been here to fight that Demon!”

“You couldn’t know about the Demon.” She squeezes his hands tighter, so abruptly that he has to hold back a groan. “You did what you had to stop what was threatening your home. You acted like a king.”

He wants to object, to insist he should have done better, he should have found a way to keep everyone safe and give the humans the justice they demanded. It takes just a moment to realise that he can’t. Diane is right. It’s not the first time he’s thought about this and reached the same conclusions, but this time they feel more … real. Not like simple excuses he is trying to make up to absolve his crimes.

“I … know”, he whispers, “but my sister died because of my decision. If Ban hadn't revived her ...”

“But he did. You can’t keep tormenting yourself over what was in the past, Harlequin. Elaine is alive and happy, and so are the Fairies and the Fairy King’s Forest - and that’s what you should focus on. What it is, not what it isn’t anymore.” She smiles at him. “You have to accept that you can’t change the past. But you can protect the present.”

King stares at her, the grip on his chest finally loosened a little. The guilt is still there, heavy and bitter. He knows it will never go truly away. Maybe it's alright. Maybe with time, it won’t feel like a burden to drag him down, but a push to do better. So that there won’t be more burned forests and lost lives.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, releasing a long breath as he lifts their joined hands to kiss her knuckles.

Diane beams before reaching for him; the touch of her lips on his own is quick as a beating of wings. She is gone before King can even think to kiss her back, then, still holding his hand, she murmurs, "Will you look into the earth, now?"

"The ... earth?" He blinks, tilting his head, cheeks still flushing for the kiss. "The - the roots have burned as well. I can't feel them, Diane. They’re dead too."

She shakes her head. "No, I mean - under here," she says, pressing his hand against the ground with her own. "You have to look deeper. Please, just," she adds when he looks at her with uncertainty, "just try."

Under the dust, the ground is hard and coarse and feels nothing like the soft meadow that once covered it all. King hesitates, but when he glances at Diane she nods encouragingly, a spark of excitement in her eyes. So, he closes his eyes and lets his magic flow. When he uses Disaster, he can feel them clearly - the plants, their connection with each other and the ground, whether they are going to survive or if they need to be taken down to allow other plants to grow. When he does it in the Fairy King’s Forest, the wood awakens with whispers and lights everywhere around him, the entire forest pulsing with life.

But here, King feels nothing. The world around him is silent and dark as a starless sky. Nothing seems to answer his call. Clenching his jaw, he keeps looking; Diane wouldn't be making him do it without a reason. She felt something, and now he just has to look long enough to -

It's there. His eyes snap open, but his mind stays focused on the tiny spark of life hidden in the depths of the earth. It’s a seed, King realises, and it’s not the only one. There are others around it, here under him, but also in the surroundings, under every scrawny tree. He looks up, eyes wide, and Diane grins at him.

"You saw them! I think the earth preserved them from the fire. There is still life in this forest.”

“But it's too deep," King breathes, "they are still alive, but they won't reach the surface and grow if we leave them there."

“Then we won’t. We are going to get them out.” Suddenly, Diane is holding both of his hands, looking at him with determination. "Dance with me."

It takes only a moment to understand what exactly she means. He can make the seeds into buds and trees, but with feet and feet of ground separating them from the soil, it will be easier if the earth opens for them.

"Of course," he says as they stand up together. Sliding one of her hands from his, she starts.

This is not by any means the first time they’ve danced together, nor the first time they have combined their powers like this. Yet King feels clumsy and stumbles on his feet as he follows Diane's smooth movements. She doesn't say anything and continues to dance, adapting her movements to his and giving him time to pick up the pace. His throat feels dry, his chest tight - he is nervous, more than any other time, maybe because he needs to make this right, to give this place another chance to live after he failed his duty to protect it.

He breathes in, out, trying to calm the pulse of his heart, and stops thinking about his next step, his focus shifting to the seeds. They are there, tiny and weak, and he keeps looking for them, finding more and more. His magic gently envelops them and then pours inside them, growing them slowly. Around them, the earth opens, like lungs too long contracted and finally given the chance to breathe. King is only partly aware of the way the ground trembles under his feet, but he can feel Diane's magic radiating from it as she delicately pulls the seeds outwards using her control over the earth. They are still dancing, their bodies finally moving in harmony, and when Diane pirouettes in his arms their hands touch oh so slightly - and under them, the seeds keep growing and rising until they are emerging from the ground like tiny green stars on the dark soil. King doesn't stop though, not yet, nourishing them with his magic, pushing them further - just a little more, till they will be strong enough.

And then they stop. King gasps for air, his eyes snapping open; Diane's face is inches from his, her body in his arms with their hands still connected. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes feverish, but she is grinning widely as she whispers, "We did it."

She is right. All around them, among the dead trees, saplings raise their thin branches to the sky and tiny bushes cover their roots. They are not many, yet, but it's a start. A laugh escapes his lips and he takes Diane's face into his hands before kissing her, again and again; he can feel her laugh too against his lips.

Before they leave, Diane carefully shapes the earth so that the wood will have enough water to grow while King finally lets the old trees decompose. They turn into dust under his power almost gratefully, as they were waiting for it. Part of him can’t help but mourn them, as he mourns the times he used to fly between their branches with his sister - and Helbram and Oslo and all the friends he lost. He will hold the memories dear in his heart, but finally, he thinks as the last tree crumbles into ashes, he can let this place go.

He turns back only once as he flies away with Diane in his arms. The wood looks so young, so different from the forest where he grew up, but that’s fine. It will grow into something new - something that will survive, he promises to himself. Even the earth looks healthier and softly embraces and supports the new trees, though its pitch-black colour remains. But ... maybe it’s the green of the new leaves, maybe it’s the fact that his heart is much lighter than when they arrived, but as he looks at it, King feels for the first time like the darkness of the dirt doesn’t mean death. It means life.

#nnt #nanatsu no taizai #the seven deadly sins #king harlequin #kiane #diane #nnt king #nnt diane #nnt fanfiction #spectrum zine #zine #mars-writes #why do i like making this poor fairy suffer?#but at least he got better before the end

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sailorspazz · 3 years

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[Fanfic] Internal Rhythms

Yup, my 10 Dance obsession has reached the point where I need to create fan works, since there’s so little out there (I don’t understand, this manga started 9 years ago, where are all the fics and fanarts?! There’s not even much in Japanese!)

Title: Internal Rhythms

Series: 10 Dance

Rating: M (for sexual content)

Words: 5,200

Summary: Suzuki and Sugiki are having issues syncing with each other's rhythms while practicing the quickstep. Sugiki's suggestion for how to get back in tune ends up pushing their relationship to a place it has never gone before.

Where to read: Posted on fanfiction.net and ao3. Or just stay here and click below!

Ah shit, here we go again…Somehow, I’ve wound up falling into a tiny fandom that has barely any fan works, so I guess I have to help fix that :P Since 10 Dance is an ongoing series, I actually have tons of speculative ideas/headcanons developing for what could happen, but for now I’m content to wait and see what direction the story heads in. Instead, I’ve chosen to write a smutty one-off based on chapter 32; though there are some details referenced from that chapter, if you’ve at least read through the end of volume 5, you should have enough context for where their relationship currently stands (as in, they definitely wouldn’t be messing around with each other at this point…and yet, I still couldn’t stop my dirty mind from imagining scenarios where they push things further >:D). Hope you enjoy this take on what could’ve gone down during a late-night training session!

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The wall clock inside the Sugiki Dance School struck 1:20am as both Shinyas took a few final sips of water and prepared to start their usual overnight practice session. Though at first it had felt awkward to spend so many hours together even after they had chosen to no longer pursue their romance, they had been able to effectively push their feelings aside and maintain a professional training partnership—even as both were keenly aware that those desires still remained simmering just under the surface.

“Alright, let’s give the quickstep another shot,” Suzuki stated as he walked over to where Sugiki stood loosening the top buttons of his shirt. “We lost out on practice time yesterday since our rhythms were off or whatever, so we gotta make up for it today.” He was eager to finish learning the basics of all five standard dances so he could spend the remaining months before the 10 Dance perfecting his movements and refining his style.

“Indeed. Let’s waste no time getting started, then.” They joined hands, and Sugiki instinctively closed his eyes as Suzuki’s arm wrapped around him and pulled him snug against his body. He began to hum a tune, as he knew his late-night partner benefitted from having music to dance to, and they started to move. Though they started out smoothly, it was not long before their feet were clearly moving at different paces, causing them to nearly trip and fall before catching themselves in each other’s arms.

“Dammit. Not again,” Suzuki sighed in frustration as he broke out of hold. “Why’s this happening now? We’ve never had this issue before. Not even right after…” He trailed off, not wanting to bring up the breakup that still felt too raw and heartbreaking to talk about a couple of months after it had occurred.

“I believe it is simply the nature of this dance. Since it relies so heavily on the two dancers being in sync with one another and dancing as one, any variance in their internal rhythms can throw it entirely off balance.”

“I get that, but do you got any bright ideas for how to fix this, Mr. ‘standard expert’? Has it happened before with other partners?”

“It has, and the solution was…well…” He paused a moment, looking slightly amused by the memories he was recalling. “When it occurred with partners I was romantically involved with, we would express our intimacy to get back in tune with each other.”

“What, you mean fuck?” Suzuki said bluntly.

“Eloquent as always, aren’t you?” he replied with a chuckle. “It needn’t go that far in most cases. Usually just a simple kiss would suffice.”

Suzuki found himself dwelling on Sugiki’s implication that he had dated more than one of his previous partners. “Just how many partners did you…ya know what, never mind.” Though he already suspected it was true, getting confirmation that Sugiki had a tendency to fall for his partners would make what they had shared feel less special.

“I have never shared that sort of relationship with Ms. Yagami, I can assure you.”

His response was not assuring in the slightest. “Yeah, thanks, but I wasn’t worried about you getting busy with your married partner. It just seems like you…” Suzuki stopped himself from finishing his thought, as he was still concerned that the answer to his earlier unfinished question was one he did not want to know. “Whatever, I said forget it already.”

“You’re one to talk,” Sugiki retorted, not allowing the subject to be dropped just yet. “I’m quite certain that percentage-wise, you have been involved with more of your partners than I have.”

Suzuki looked flabbergasted at this accusation. While it was true that he had had romances with one hundred percent of his partners, when that number only amounted to two people when he included the man in front of him, it was hardly a fair comparison. “Are you shitting me? Don’t go twisting this around to make me look bad! You know damn well I’ve…” Before he got too far into his tirade, he noticed the satisfied smirk Sugiki was wearing. Clearly he was riling him up on purpose for his own amusement, and Suzuki had unwittingly fallen into his trap—though there was a part of him that did not mind being baited by him, and it was something he had actually missed when their relationship had been in a more fragile place following their separation. “This ain’t helping solve our problem, smartass. You got any solutions that’re actually useful?”

“We could try it,” Sugiki murmured under his breath, just barely loud enough for Suzuki to hear.

“Huh?” Suzuki wondered if he was really implying what he assumed he was, but was almost afraid to ask. “What exactly do you wanna try out?”

Sugiki met his eyes with an expression that to most would come across as stoic, but because they had spent so much time together, he could see a twinge of heartache behind it. “We shared a romantic bond before. Perhaps we could realign if we connected in that manner once more, however briefly.”

The acknowledgment that he was suggesting exactly what he had suspected caused Suzuki’s heart to leap. Despite continuing to share incredibly close contact every night as they practiced, neither one had broken down and expressed the desire to rekindle the affectionate side of their bond, even though it was something they could mutually sense from each other through their touch. Now Sugiki had finally gone and voiced it aloud, and Suzuki did not know how to feel, his elation being tamped down by the memories of how badly things had ended before. But he found he could not just shoot down this suggestion outright. “So…you’re saying we should make out?” he asked incredulously.

“It can be much chaster than that. Perhaps just a light kiss would do the trick, like the ones you gave me to help loosen me up during our early Latin sessions.”

His face now looked inscrutable, to the point where Suzuki could not tell if he actually thought this would be helpful, or if he was just looking for an excuse to kiss him. However, there was a growing part of him that did not even care if it were the latter. We really shouldn’t do this, he thought to himself. But his inner doubts did not match the words that came out of his mouth. “Well…if you think it’s worth a shot, then…”

Suzuki sauntered closer to Sugiki. As they stood facing each other, both looked unsure if they should actually go through with this. It was an unfamiliar awkward tension that neither wished to endure any longer, so the two began leaning their faces toward one another. However, Suzuki noticed something and grabbed Sugiki’s face, squishing his cheeks with his hands. “Hold up, what’s this I see?” he asked suspiciously, peering into his partner’s mouth. “Looks like the tip of your tongue is poking out awful far for someone who was just gonna kiss me lightly.”

“And what about you, Suzuki-sensei?” Sugiki brought his thumb up to the other man’s mouth and ran it gently across his bottom lip. “I was peeking as well, and those lips of yours were parted quite wide.”

Neither could truly be upset at the other since both were guilty of the same offense. Which made it even clearer that it would be incredibly difficult to restrain themselves and keep to just the gentle kiss they had agreed upon. Suzuki knew this meant they needed to stop, but as he stared into his partner’s yearning eyes, he found it impossible to turn away. He wanted him, he had missed sharing this with him, and he could not allow this opportunity to slip away, even if he knew he might regret it later. “Ah, fuck it,” he mumbled as he slipped his hand around and clutched the back of Sugiki’s head, smashing their lips together forcefully. They quickly locked together in a tight embrace, their tongues thrusting vigorously into each other’s mouths. As ballroom professionals, they had previously compared their make out sessions to different styles of dance: sometimes their tongues slid smoothly together in a gentle foxtrot, at other times they undulated in a sensual rumba. This time, as months of pent-up passion poured out of each of them, it was more like an unconventional paso doble between two matadors battling for dominance.

Why’s it so easy to fall right back into this? And why does it feel so good with him? Suzuki wondered as they continued their maddening yet thrilling dance, relishing the feeling of Sugiki’s fingers twisting through his hair and tugging at his curls. Though in the past he had been more accustomed to romantic partners who would yield to him, there was something about the aggressive push and pull between the two of them that was undeniably appealing—in fact, he even preferred it now.

Sugiki began sucking on the tip of Suzuki’s tongue, causing a moan to slip out. Shit, this is getting out of hand. The urges he had harbored before about ravishing his late-night partner were coming back in full force; he needed to end this before he tried something regrettable again. Against the will of his body that was screaming for more, he managed to dislodge his tongue from Sugiki’s mouth and pull his face back. They breathed heavily as they gazed at each other, and Sugiki made a move toward him again, but Suzuki turned his face so the other man’s lips landed on his cheek instead. Sugiki seemed to accept this alternative, and placed a sequence of tender kisses along his jawline. “I knew this was a bad idea,” Suzuki lamented with a deep sigh.

“Why do you say that?” Sugiki whispered, pressing his lips to Suzuki’s ear.

“’Cause it’s gonna be really hard to stop now.”

“Indeed, I can see how…hard it is,” Sugiki noted with a sly glance downward. “That’s quite a bomer you’re sporting.”

Suzuki’s face turned red, though he also snorted out a laugh. “I seriously can’t tell if you’re fucking with me at this point, or you really don’t know that word. It’s boner.”

“Ah, right.” The sexual tension between them had cooled a bit during this brief exchange, but Sugiki found himself still craving more of his Latino partner. The fact that July was fast approaching and Norman would soon be arriving to take over Suzuki’s coaching made him truly want to make the most of the remaining time they had together. He was on the verge of suggesting something they had never done before, but struggled as he weighed his desires against logic telling him they should not take this any further. “It would be difficult for you to attempt to dance in that state. Perhaps…” His uncertainty caused him to trail off without finishing his proposal.

“Ah, y-yeah,” Suzuki laughed awkwardly. “I guess I could take a break and…”

Before he could walk away, Sugiki grabbed his arms and held him in place. “Perhaps,” he started again, sounding more confident this time as he met his partner’s eyes. “I could…take care of it for you.”

Suzuki’s eyes widened in disbelief. For one, he had never seen someone offer to get him off while wearing such a gravely serious expression. But more importantly, the fact that he was making this offer now when they had never gone beyond kissing was completely unexpected. And he knew allowing this to happen could jeopardize the comfortable working relationship they had developed with each other. Despite that, something awakened in him at the sound of the other Shinya’s words, and there was no way in hell he was going to turn him down. His mental state quickly switched over to the seductive mode that he typically got into when he went out to pick up women—though ever since their trip to Blackpool early in the year when he had started to recognize his feelings for Sugiki, he had actually not slept with anyone at all, and was currently in the longest dry spell of his adult life. Even if they were never officially dating, and even after their romance ended, it would have almost felt like cheating since he had sincerely fallen in love with him. A sensual grin spread across his face, his eyes half-lidded as he softly stroked Sugiki’s cheek. “Oh yeah? How do you plan to do it?” he purred flirtatiously.

Sugiki shivered as he was taken in by the sudden shift in Suzuki’s mannerisms. He did not give him an answer, but instead kept his eyes locked with his partner’s as he dropped down to his knees and reached for the waistband of Suzuki’s pants.

Suzuki raised an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t willing to do that.”

“Certainly not under the circumstances you presented me with before. That would have been highly undignified,” Sugiki explained in an agitated tone. “Under the right conditions, though, I don’t have a problem with it.” He pulled Suzuki’s pants down to his lower thighs, then slipped his hand through the opening in his underwear, pulling out his erection.

Suzuki chuckled as he noticed that, though Sugiki seemed to be willing himself to keep his expression as calm as possible, his eyes told the story of a man suddenly feeling apprehensive as he held another man’s dick in his hand for the first time in his life. “You say you’re fine with this, but it’s not like you’ve done it before.”

“Yes, well…” He did not finish his reply aloud, but thought to himself, For you—and only you—I’m willing to try just about anything. His hunger for this man had compelled him to push things further than he had intended, but at this point he could not back down. He gave Suzuki’s member some soft strokes with his hand, feeling it grow bigger and firmer. He brought his lips forward and placed them gently on the tip, then poked his tongue out and swirled it in circles around the head. He was stalling a bit due to his hesitation, and he knew Suzuki could sense that as he stared down at him in anticipation, so it was time to take the plunge. He moved forward and slipped the head of Suzuki’s erection into his mouth. He sucked lightly as he pressed him just a bit deeper inside, moving back and forth slowly as he got used to the sensation of having a foreign appendage inside his mouth. Once he got a bit more comfortable, he removed his hand and pushed further yet again, reaching a place where he had most of Suzuki’s length in his mouth. He began to relax a bit, and his head movements went from halting and erratic to smooth and consistent.

Holy shit, this is really happening. Suzuki closed his eyes and exhaled a lustful sigh. I can’t believe I’m getting a blowjob from a guy. He smirked as he thought on it further. No, not just any guy. The Shinya Sugiki. The Emperor. A man who sits near the top of the world, down on his knees for me. Fuck, that’s hot. The ego boost he got from this realization aroused him even further, making him want to feel the sensation of being completely enveloped by his partner. He gripped Sugiki’s hair and tried to hold him in place while shifting his hips forward, but Sugiki’s hand flew up and gripped the base of his shaft, preventing him from going any deeper. He shot a warning glare up at Suzuki, but did not stop what he was doing, now using his hand in conjunction with his mouth to stroke and suck him simultaneously. It seemed the balance of power was an issue between them, as it always had been; even though Sugiki had put himself in a vulnerable position, he still wanted to remain in control. Suzuki could respect that need, and though he still kept his hand resting on his partner’s head, he merely ran his fingers through his hair rather than made further attempts to steer his actions through force.

Suzuki recalled that the reason this had all started was because of their mistimed internal rhythms. There was certainly no more intimate demonstration of one’s rhythm than what Sugiki was doing to him currently, so he decided to concentrate on the pace of his partner’s actions. As soon as he put his focus on it, he was struck by how even and steady it was. Like a piece of music…oh my god, what if he’s playing a waltz in his head? A chuckle nearly escaped him, but he bit down hard on his lip to hold it back. Nah, he doesn’t even need music. He’s probably doing it to the count. One two three, four five six, one two three…it’s like I’m getting blown by a metronome. That mental image made him snicker aloud, causing Sugiki to stop and peer up at him quizzically. “Sorry, sorry. I just…thought of something weird.” He could tell from the look in his eyes that Sugiki was miffed that he was letting his mind wander when he was going extremely far out of his comfort zone to do this for him, so Suzuki felt the need to encourage him a bit. “Please don’t stop. It really does feel amazing.” Though he still looked slightly wary, Sugiki quickly got back into the same rhythm he had been using before. Clearly, thinking about anything was only going to get Suzuki in trouble, so he chose to just relax and enjoy Sugiki’s efforts.

Though the pace he was keeping felt good, it was not quite reaching the speed Suzuki would need to finish. The situation already felt delicate, and he did not want to seem like he was making demands of his partner, so instead of saying anything, he used the fingers resting on Sugiki’s head to gently tap out a faster rhythm. He immediately picked up on what Suzuki was subtly requesting of him, and altered his pace accordingly. Sugiki’s other hand reached around to squeeze one of his partner’s well-muscled ass cheeks. His fingers slipped ever closer toward the center, an avenue Suzuki was not ready to explore. “H-hey,” he protested firmly, causing Sugiki to return to merely caressing his backside. “Ah, Sugi…hngh…mmph.” He could not help but vocalize his pleasure as he drew closer and closer to his climax. He figured it was also probably fair to warn the other man so he could be prepared. “I’m gonna…gah!” He did not even finish the words before tossing his head back with a moan as a wave of ecstasy coursed throughout his body. Though Sugiki had been aware that this would be happening soon and had tried to brace himself, it was still a shock to feel another man’s essence spilling into his mouth. He swallowed a little bit, but the thick, unfamiliar texture sliding down his throat triggered his gag reflex and made him cough, causing most of Suzuki’s cum to dribble down onto his shirt.

Suzuki offered a hand to help Sugiki stand up. Even after pulling him up, he continued to grip his hand, flashing him a contented smile. “Well, I sure didn’t expect a training session like this.”

Sugiki could not help but grin back at him. His heartbeat quickened as they stared into each other’s eyes. He wished they could stay this way forever, but he knew that the longer they continued basking in the afterglow, the harder it would be to tear themselves away from each other. “Well then, shall we get back to training?”

“Whoa, hold on a minute,” Suzuki squeezed his hand tighter, keeping him from breaking away. “We might’ve solved my issue, but now it looks like you’re having one of your own.” His eyes darted downward to the obvious bulge in Sugiki’s pants, then looked back up at him with a lecherous grin.

“Ah, well, I…”

Suzuki swiftly eliminated the gap between their bodies, wrapping one arm around him while his other hand rubbed against the front of Sugiki’s pants. “Sucking me off got you pretty worked up, huh?” Suzuki murmured coquettishly. Sugiki could feel his neck and ears growing warm as he was once again being taken in by his partner’s highly effective seductive mode; it was hard to believe that a man who was so enticing in his everyday existence could amp up his sex appeal even more, but somehow Suzuki managed to pull it off. “You got such a low opinion of me that you didn’t think I’d return the favor?” he teased impishly.

Truth be told, this had all been quite an impulsive whim on Sugiki’s part, and he had not really thought ahead to what Suzuki might do for him in return. But now that the offer was on the table, there was no way he was going to pass it up. Sugiki draped his arms over Suzuki’s shoulders and gazed amorously into his eyes. “If you insist,” he answered softly before leaning forward to press his lips to his partner’s. The pace of this kiss was much more languid than the one they had shared earlier, yet still steeped with the passion of a tango as their tongues slipped past and against each other.

Suzuki began to shuffle his feet, leading them toward the side of the room as they remained attached at the mouth. They reached the benches and sat next to each other, then Suzuki pushed his weight toward Sugiki until he had him lying down. He brought his lips down upon Sugiki’s neck, kissing and sucking at his bare skin. Sugiki noted that he was definitely going to wind up with hickies from this, and would need to remember to keep his shirts completely buttoned up in the presence of others for the next few days, including at home with his mother.

Suzuki’s mouth drifted toward his throat, and he started moving on a pathway downward, placing kisses on each section of newly exposed skin as he undid his shirt buttons one by one. His other hand reached up to play with his nipples, and Sugiki could feel a part of him that wanted to resist; a man like him who was used to being in control was not entirely comfortable being put into such a submissive position. Still, he was willing to go against his own nature in this instance, as he craved the release his Latino partner was offering him.

After making his way down to Sugiki’s bellybutton, Suzuki went to work undoing the other man’s belt and unzipping his pants. He reached down into his underwear, frowning slightly as a realization hit him. “Um, wow. I could tell you were packing when our dicks said hello to each other in that first practice session, but god damn…” He sat up again and unveiled Sugiki’s erection, gawking at its impressive length. “Makin’ me feel inadequate here,” he muttered under his breath. Though he had desired Sugiki sexually for several months already, somehow he had never mentally prepared himself for the blow to his ego of being with a man who was better endowed than himself.

“You’re perfectly adequately sized, I can assure you.”

Suzuki looked dumbfounded for a second, then growled, “Your assurances are really shitty, ya know. How the hell’s being called ‘adequate’ supposed to make me feel better?!” In his mind, he added, Maybe someday I’ll fuck you, and we’ll see if you think my dick’s just ‘adequate’ then, but thought better of expressing that prospect aloud.

Sugiki was struggling to maintain a neutral expression, feeling a grin threatening to break out across his face. Getting Suzuki flustered was one of his favorite—and often easiest—forms of entertainment, and it was when he found him the most adorable. Though on second thought, perhaps this was not the smartest time to aggravate him, as it could cause his hot-headed partner to go back on his offer.

Suzuki narrowed his eyes at him, now noticing the smug glee Sugiki was trying to conceal. “You son of a bitch…” He had gotten him again, and though he was a bit peeved, he nevertheless loved seeing the spark of joy in the other Shinya’s eyes, which had become a rarer sight following their breakup. “You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy,” Suzuki said with a bit of a sneer as he began moving his hand in long strokes up and down Sugiki’s shaft. His partner sighed softly, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side, but Suzuki reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing him to face him again. “Hey. We ain’t dancing the waltz here. Don’t look away from me.” His lips curled up in a lascivious smile. “I wanna see your face when you come.” His grin widened even more as he watched Sugiki’s entire face turn beet red. “Wow. I’ve never seen you blush that hard before.” After repeatedly falling victim to his partner’s efforts to mess with him, Suzuki was pleased to achieve a small victory of his own.

As Suzuki continued to caress him, Sugiki tried to maintain the eye contact that the other man wanted, but it felt too intimate, to the point where it was uncomfortable for him. He continued facing upward, but instead of concentrating on what was in his field of vision, he fixated his attention on the rhythm Suzuki was using to pleasure him. Like when he danced, it was a bit inconsistent and unconventional, yet imbued with passion and enthusiasm. In any case, after spending months secretly wondering what it would be like if they pushed beyond just kissing, being touched by Suzuki like this was quite the thrill.

Suzuki saw a blissful smile appear on his partner’s face, which in these circumstances actually annoyed him. Ugh, why’s he always so elegant? I don’t wanna see that gentlemanly front when I’m jerking you off. He started pumping his hand faster, hoping to coax more of a lustful reaction out of Sugiki. His response of breathing slightly faster and biting down lightly on his lip was not nearly enough to sate Suzuki’s desire to see him let go, so he quickened his pace even more. Soon after, a slight hitch in Sugiki’s breath and his body tensing under him were the only signs Suzuki got to indicate that his partner was climaxing, which was immediately followed by the sensation of ejaculate spilling over his hand.

After taking a few moments to recover, Sugiki arose from the bench. “Let me get something so you can clean up,” he offered as he started walking across the room. He returned shortly with a towel and handed it to Suzuki.

“So…did you like that?” Suzuki asked curiously as he wiped his hands.

“Hmm? Of course. Why would you think otherwise?” Sugiki answered, looking confused.

“I mean, you weren’t really reacting very much, so…”

“Does the end result not make it obvious that I found it pleasurable?” He glanced at the towel Suzuki held, seeming to view it as proof of his point.

“Okay, yeah, obviously you got off, but I’m just more used to…”

“Oh, is it that you usually have women screaming your name in bed?” he chortled.

“That’s…not what I was trying to say…though it is true,” Suzuki acknowledged. “I just thought maybe I’d…I dunno, get to see you let loose a bit, get sloppy or something.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t tend to do that.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Despite his best efforts, he had not succeeded in making Sugiki drop the impervious guard he kept around himself. Maybe I can’t get you to show me that side of you yet, but someday…

Sugiki could tell it was frustrating for the other Shinya that he had not given him the sort of responses he was accustomed to, but the fact was that it was difficult to open himself entirely up knowing that they could not be in a relationship at this point. Still, he could not let go of the hope that they might one day be together. If anyone’s capable of pulling that side out of me, you’ll be the one to do it.

Once they finished cleaning up, Sugiki disposed of the towel and changed into a new shirt before returning to his partner once more. “All right, shall we resume practice, then?”

“Yeah, but could we work on some dances I already know first? My brain’s a bit…foggy right now, so it’d be hard to try something so new.” He always fell into a fairly relaxed state following sex, so he wanted to save Sugiki the headache of trying to teach him quickstep when it was likely he would absorb very little.

“Certainly, but do you not think we should at least try to see if the compatibility of our rhythms has improved at all first?” He looked at Suzuki with a sly smirk. “That is why we did this, yes?”

“O-of course,” Suzuki stammered. “Yeah, let’s test it out a bit.” They positioned themselves in hold once more, beginning to move to the tune of Sugiki’s humming. Their feet flew across the floor in the basic quickstep patterns Suzuki had learned so far, each of them keeping in mind the feeling of the internal rhythms they had sensed from each other. This time around, they were able to continue moving at high speeds without stumbling, dancing around the room for a while before coming to a stop. Both were panting heavily from the effort, and as they stayed in hold a bit longer, Suzuki blushed slightly as Sugiki beamed at him with a dreamy smile on his face.

“Perfect.”

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Oh ho ho…my Shinyas are very naughty boys! Much more so than they’ve been in the story so far (I suppose a similar level to the Taboo side story, but that’s not exactly canon). I’m excited to get this done and add another fic to the very small pile that currently exists. I really hope more fans will join me in celebrating this beautiful manga and its central pair of dance crazy dumbasses who can’t yet—but will hopefully, eventually—figure out how to make it work between them *cough*just be switch goddammit*cough*. In the meantime, I’ll keep wallowing in headcanons that might possibly become fics if the mood strikes me again. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! ^_^

#10 dance #10dance #fanfic

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nothingbutfangirlsmut · 3 years

Text

The Girl out of Time

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Background: Willow Roffe was born and raised in Brooklyn. She lived her life as happily as she could with her two childhood best friends Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. When they both left her to join the military she tried to continue with life but that didn't get to happen for her for the simple fact that she meant something to James Buchanan Barnes.

Rating: Story will be overall MATURE but not every chapter. There will be strong language, talk of both mental and physical abuse, some good ole angst, and smut. There will be a warning at the beginning of the chapter when it includes smut.

Chapter 40

I had Steve drop Sarah and I off at the complex. Neither of us wanted to be in that cramped car any longer. Plus it would be nice to have the entire complex to ourselves for once.

“Mommy, did Morgan’s daddy not want to help us?” Sarah asked after we both sat on the couch.

“No sweetie. He would help us if he could be he has to be there for Morgan and her mommy.” I said softly.

Sarah had said many times how awesome and heroic Tony was. She looked up to the man. I couldn’t tell her he didn’t want to help us. I understand his reasoning. I would probably feel the same way if I was in his place. Unfortunately I’m not in his place. Sarah doesn’t have her dad to look out for us like Tony looks out for his family.

“Morgan’s lucky to have her daddy.” Sarah said softly.

I wrapped my arms around her pulling her into my chest. I kissed the top of her head.

“She is very lucky.” I whispered into her hair.

Sarah pulled out of the hug then kissed my cheek.

“At least we have uncle Stevie. No one’s as cool as him.” She said with a bright smile.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“He wasn’t always cool. When I first met Stevie when we were kids he was a tiny thing and not at all cool but he was and still is the best friend I could have ever asked for.” I told her smiling at my memories.

“Really? I can’t imagine Captain America not being cool.” She said in complete disbelief.

I laughed again.

“Well, he wasn’t always Captain America. We were in our twenties when he became the hero you know him as.” I told her.

“What was it like when you were a kid?” She asked curiously.

“It was a completely different world. It was almost a hundred years ago now that I was a kid. We didn’t have any of the cool stuff you have. Life was simple and kind of boring. The only fun I had was when I was with Stevie and Jamie.” I smiled.

“Daddy was with you back then? Wait, your a hundred years old?” She asked in shock.

I laughed even harder this time.

“Well, yea, technically I’m one hundred and six years old. Stevie is one hundred and five years old.” I said smiling down at her.

“Woah, that’s old.” She said in astonishment.

“It is indeed but I think I look good for my old age.” I chuckled.

“Definitely! You’re the prettiest mommy!” Sarah nodded enthusiastically.

“You’re so sweet.” I pinched her cheek.

“What was daddy like when you were kids?” She asked suddenly.

Just the thought of James as a kid made me smile.

“He was always protecting me and Stevie. Steve use to get picked on a lot but James was always there and if he wasn’t there then I was. Your dad was the most attractive man even back then. He was funny, charismatic, and brave. When we woke up here in the 21st century he was a completely different person but slowly he found himself. It wasn’t until we found out I was pregnant with you that he really became himself again.” I explained.

“So daddy knew he was going to be a dad?” She asked.

“Oh yes, he was so excited. He couldn’t wait to meet you.” I smiled more of a sad smile at that thought.

“That’s enough question for now little soldier. How about we go outside and play for a bit?” I asked changing the subject.

“Okay!” She cheered jumping up from her seat.

I sighed then quickly followed her outside to the jungle gym Steve had put in for her. I sat on the bench watching her play and run her energy out. I wish there were more kids around. It must be so lonely for her.

I heard the car’s engine before I saw it. Behind the car was a large truck with none other than hulk sitting in the back. That’s strange. Why is he hulk right now? I stood up watching both vehicles pull up. Steve and Scott in the car and Nat driving the truck.

“Hulk!” Sarah shouted excitedly.

I watched her run over to the green giant as he climbed out of the truck. He high fived her the best he could with his hand that was as big as her.

“What’s going on with Banner?” I asked Steve quietly.

“Um, he’s merged with Hulk. Banner’s mind and Hulk’s body. Kinda freaky though.” Steve said watching the doctor walk over to us with Sarah close on his heels.

“So what now?” I asked the group.

“Now we time travel.” Scott said with a large grin.

“This is gonna go well.” I told Steve after Scott and Bruce walked inside.

It didn’t take Bruce and Scott long to make their little time machine set up. Steve, Nat, Sarah, and I kept our distance until they were done. Scott suited up then met us back in the room.

“Okay, here we go. Time travel test number one. Scott, fire up the, uh, van thing.” Bruce told Scott.

Scott opened the back doors of the van. The inside instantly lit up with some kind of vortex looking thing.

“Breakers are set. Emergency generators are on standby.” Steve told Bruce.

“Good, because if we blow the grid, I don’t want to loose, uh, tiny here in the 1950s.” Bruce said.

“Excuse me?” Scott asked in shock.

“He’s kidding. You can’t say things like that.” Nat scolded the giant.

“It was a bad joke.” Bruce told Scott.

Scott did not look reassured at all. I don’t blame him. Bruce and Nat had a quick whispered conversations then Bruce gave Scott the thumbs up.

“We’re good! Get your helmet on Scott. I’m gonna send you back a week let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in 10 seconds. Make sense?” Bruce asked Scott.

“Perfectly not confusing.” Scott nodded.

“This is not gonna be good.” I said quietly shaking my head.

“Good luck, Scott. You got this.” Steve told him.

“You’re right. I do, Captain America.” Scott said proudly.

He disappeared suddenly into the vortex or quantum realm.

“On a count of three. Three, two, one.” Bruce said then pushed a few buttons quickly.

A body appeared suddenly but it wasn’t Scott. It looked like a teenage boy.

“Guys, this doesn’t feel right.” The boy said.

“What is this? What’s going on?” Steve asked Bruce.

“Who is that?” Nat asked.

“I think it’s The funny man.” Sarah said.

“Hold on” Bruce said as he pushed more buttons.

“Is that Scott?” Nat asked.

“Yes, it’s Scott.” The boy said.

He disappeared again.

“What’s going on Bruce?” Nat asked in confusion.

Another body appeared.

“Oh, my back!” The old man shouted.

“Old funny man!” Sarah giggled.

“What is this?” Nat asked Bruce again.

“Hold on a second. Could I get a little space here?” Bruce asked causing Steve and Nat to back off.

“Can you bring him back?” Steve asked.

“I’m working on it?” Bruce snapped.

The old man disappeared then a much smaller body appeared.

“It’s a baby” Steve said with no surprise on his face.

“It’s Scott” Bruce told him.

“As a baby” Steve corrected.

“He’ll grow.” Bruce shrugged.

“Bring Scott back.” Steve said in exasperation.

“When I say kill the power, kill the power.” Bruce told Nat.

“Oh, my god.” Nat rolled her eyes.

She took off to the back of the room to do as he said.

“I told you this wasn’t going to be good right?” I asked Steve quietly.

“Yes you did.” He sighed crossing his arms over his chest.

“And.. kill it!” Bruce shouted.

The baby disappeared then was replaced with a normal looking Scott Lang.

“Funny man!” Sarah shouted.

“Somebody peed my pants. But I don’t know if it was baby me or old me. Or just me me.” Scott said slowly.

“Yep that’s him.” I said simply.

“Time travel!” Bruce shouted excitedly.

I grabbed Sarah then headed back into the complex.

“What? I see this as an absolute win.” Bruce shouted.

Nat, Steve, Sarah, and I grouped in the kitchen. Each of us but Sarah making a sound of exhaustion.

“I don’t think that could have been worse.” Nat groaned.

“He could have not come back at all.” I said simply.

“That’s fair” Nat nodded.

“We need to get the team together. We have a real shot here.” Steve said as he tapped his fingers on the counter.

“Want me to make the call?” Nat asked.

“Yea and find out where Barton is.” Steve told her.

Both of them left the room in opposite directions.

“Does this mean we are gonna save daddy?” Sarah asked.

“I think it means they are going to try.” I told her softly.

—

#nothingbutfangirlsmut #fanfiction #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #the girl out of time #bucky imagine #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you

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actress4him · 4 years

Text

Whumptober 2020 - Day 8

Today is our first strictly emotional whump day...only a couple of brief, non-graphic mentions of an already existing injury. Also, today’s fic is really freakin’ sad. Like, I almost made myself cry. So, sorry ahead of time.

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Day 8 - Abandoned/Isolation

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Warnings: fantastic racism, not really suicide ideation but kinda?, abandonment, solitary confinement, disassociation, imprisonment, foster home mention, self-loathing, restraints, unflattering depiction of everyone except Keith and sorta Shiro, ambiguous ending

“I’m...part Galra.”

“I...I’m sorry, what?”

Keith ducked his head and cut his eyes to the side to avoid looking at Allura. “The knife I got from my mom. It’s...something that every Blade carries. And the only way to activate one is to...have Galra blood.”

“And you activated yours?”

His eyes darted up to Coran’s unreadable expression and back down again. “Yes.”

“Wait, but that makes no sense,” Lance exclaimed, and Keith could imagine his hands flailing as he spoke. “He’s human. He’s obviously human.”

Hunk hummed in agreement. “Yeah, if he was part Galra you’d think there’d be some sign of it. Something...purple, or something, I dunno.”

“Or a little more height,” Lance snorted.

Shiro’s hand dropped onto his uninjured shoulder, and he jumped. “Well, we don’t know for sure how much of him is actually Galra. Obviously he ended up with mostly human genes, at least when it comes to appearance.”

“Ah, but other than appearance...that actually explains so much about Mullet. Hot-headed, reckless, socially inept -”

Normally Keith would have snapped back by then, but he just drew his shoulders farther up toward his ears, arms crossed tightly across his chest as if he could keep himself from falling apart. It was Shiro who broke in for him.

“Lance, that’s enou-”

“When were you planning on telling us?”

The question took him so much by surprise that he jerked his head up, regretting it as soon as he saw Allura’s stony glare. “W-what?”

Sparks seemed to shoot from her impossibly blue eyes. “When were you planning on telling us your heritage, before this accidental reveal today? Sometime after you betrayed us, I suppose?”

Keith couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “No, n-...I didn’t know, I swear. This is...this is as much of a surprise to me as it is to all of you.” He knew the news wouldn’t be taken well, especially by Allura, though Coran, Shiro, and Pidge were next on the list. But he never expected to be accused of hiding it from them, of planning to betray Voltron. “I’m not...I would never…”

“Never what, turn on Voltron? If you’re really Galra, which I assume you wouldn’t lie about that, then it’s in your very nature.”

Shiro gave his shoulder a squeeze and spoke up. “Princess, as the person here who has known Keith the longest, I can assure you that what he says is true. He didn’t know until today.”

“And how would you know that?” she shot back. “How do you know that he hasn’t just been hiding it from you, like he has from all of us?”

“Because I know him.” Shiro waved a hand to include the others in the room. “We all know him! Right? We’ve been working alongside him all these months...he’s helped save so many people, including each of us! Regardless of whether he knew or not - which I still believe he didn’t - he’s a good person. Being part Galra doesn’t define him.” It was an echo of the words he had told Keith on the way back to the Castle. Keith still wasn’t sure that he believed them anymore than the rest of the room’s occupants.

Hunk was the first to reply, hesitantly. “I...I don’t know, man. I mean, I kinda really...don’t know him all that well? I’d like to say I do, but…”

“But Mullet never really lets anybody get to know him.” Lance sounded much less hesitant, and more and more like he was siding with Allura. “He’s always so standoffish. I thought it was just because he was a jerk, but maybe it was because he was keeping a secret. Or because he was plotting to kill us all.”

Shiro gaped at him, flabbergasted. “Lance! You don’t really think that, do you?”

But he did. They all did, to some extent or another, Keith could see it. They all thought he was some kind of monster, and...maybe he was.

Lance continued to defend his opinion, while Hunk waved his hands in front of his face and refused to give more of one. It was obvious from Shiro’s tone that he was growing not only frustrated, but desperate. Finally, he turned to the youngest member of the team, the only one who had yet to speak.

“Pidge?”

A moment passed before she lifted her head, and Keith’s heart skipped a beat when those tear-filled but furious eyes met his. She opened her mouth and sucked in an audible breath before throwing her words like daggers. “Do you know where my family is?”

His stomach plummeted to the floor. “No, Pidge, I...of course I don’t, I -” He couldn’t say anymore. It didn’t matter what he said, anyway, no one was going to listen to him. Pidge turned her eyes back to the floor, fists clenched by her sides, as the rest of the room devolved into chaos.

Shiro and Allura were shouting back and forth at each other, Hunk was trying to comfort Pidge, and Lance was shooting glares at him like he was the devil incarnate. Keith stood in the middle of it all with his hands fisted in his hair, wishing he could disappear. Wishing he could go back to that morning and never go to the base, wishing he could go back all the way to the beginning and never be born. It’d be better that way, right? A freak of nature like he was shouldn’t exist. If he’d never been born, then Voltron would have found another red paladin, one who wasn’t Galra, and they could carry on saving the universe without having to deal with this mess.

“Enough!” Allura’s voice rang out over everyone else. “Perhaps we cannot prove his true motives, but one thing is certain, he cannot be trusted. Coran, Lance, escort him downstairs to a cell. We will decide what to do with him at a later date.”

Keith went numb. Everything that happened from that moment on felt like he was watching a movie on a screen. Shiro fairly exploded, protesting Allura’s decision, but the princess pinned him to the nearest console and sneered something about him daring to usurp her authority. Cold, unfeeling hands latched onto both his arms, tugging him harshly toward the door. He walked in a daze.

The next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of a spherical, blue-tinted forcefield, with no knowledge of how he had gotten there. Down a long walkway, Coran and Lance were disappearing into an elevator. The doors slammed shut on their backs. He was completely alone.

Alone, like he had been after his dad died when he was six. Alone, like he had been in nearly every foster home that followed. Alone, like when Shiro went to Kerberos and subsequently vanished. He thought that by now he’d be used to being alone. But he wasn’t. Not anymore. Not when he had spent the last few months surrounded by people, people whom he didn’t always get along with, but whom he had finally let himself begin to call friends. Not when he had thought he was finally figuring out what it felt like to belong somewhere.

Sinking to the floor, he bit back a hysterical laugh. He should have known better. Nothing good ever lasted in his life. No one but Shiro ever really cared about him, so why had he let himself think that these people did? Maybe Lance was right. Maybe it was all because he had been Galra all along. He had always been the weird kid, the outsider, the foster that nobody wanted, the troublemaker, the rebel. Anytime something good came along, he somehow drove it away. Shiro had spent a lot of time trying to convince him that it wasn’t true, that he wasn’t responsible for other people’s choices, but Keith had never quite believed him. If it wasn’t true, then why did trouble and sorrow seem to follow him everywhere he went? Even as an adult, even in quiznaking space he couldn’t keep from messing up the good in his life.

He didn’t blame Allura for locking him up. Didn’t blame Lance for his glares, didn’t blame Pidge for her anger or Hunk and Coran for their silence. He wouldn’t trust him, either, if he was in their place. The Galra had ruined each and every one of their lives. Even if he knew that he would never, ever hurt his team...maybe he could take on some of the blame of his race. If punishing him made them feel better, then he’d take it.

Time dragged by in that tiny cell. He knew, because the lights in the cavernous room around him brightened and dimmed with the Castle’s cycles just like they did upstairs, and bowls of food goo emerged out of the ground twice per cycle. Maybe it was some kind of Altean science/magic, or maybe there was just a dispenser beneath the floor. He didn’t know, or care. He was glad to get the food, but the fact that he didn’t even get that tiny bit of interaction that someone bringing him a meal would give him hurt. It was like being in the desert shack all over again, but much worse. In the desert, he had the choice to go into town and see people if he wanted, and he had keeping himself alive and chasing after the Blue Lion to keep his mind occupied.

Here, he had nothing. His time was divided between eating, pacing the floor, doing pushups - one armed, since his shoulder still wasn’t healed - and situps, and lying on the hard bed, though he slept very little.

He wasn’t sure what hurt more - the initial rejection and mistrust, or the lack of care now. No one even bothered to come down and ask him questions, to try to find out the truth, much less actually check on him and make sure he was okay. He wondered if they even looked at the security feed ever to see if he was even still alive.

He knew what did hurt the most, though, more than both of those things combined. Shiro. Out of everyone, he thought that at least Shiro would come down at some point. The fact that he had so readily accepted Keith’s Galra heritage had baffled him, but he had been the only one trying to defend him. So where was he now? Were they preventing him from visiting somehow? Or had he changed his mind after all, and sided with the others?

In the end, it took them four quintants that felt like an eternity to decide his fate. The elevator doors opened late in the day, the sudden noise after so much silence startling. Keith swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up quickly, trying not to be too disappointed when only Allura and Coran walked out. He supposed it was too much to ask that he could see all of his friends one more time.

Stopping in front of the cell, Allura folded her arms in front of her while Coran crossed his in the back. Both were stoic, betraying no emotion on their faces. Allura, of course, was the one to speak.

“We’ve come to escort you off the ship.”

His stomach clenched, even though he hadn’t expected anything different. “Okay.”

“We have landed on a planet called Borulmyte. It is inhabited only by various primitive and non sentient species. The atmosphere is breathable and the climate livable for both humans and Galra.” The last word was said with no small measure of disgust. “There are plenty of edible plants and animals, so you should be able to survive just fine.”

Survive. That was the key word in all of this, wasn’t it? He had half expected not to survive, to be thrown out of an airlock into the cold vacuum of space. But now...surviving is all that he would be doing. Alone, again. He shouldn’t have expected anything different. Alone was apparently his destiny. Alone on a planet with no other sentient life, no one to interact with, no possible way of ever leaving.

Surviving. No more living, those days were over. He wasn’t ever very good at that, anyway. Surviving was what he did best. How long, though, would he last? How long until he decided he was tired of surviving, when there wasn’t even anything left to survive for? Out in the desert, he had had the Blue Lion calling him, and the stubborn notion that Shiro wasn’t really dead. Now...he’d only have himself.

“This was certainly no easy decision, and much time, discussion, and thought has gone into choosing the proper planet. So I hope that you will cooperate and not cause a scene. Nothing you can say or do is going to change our minds now.”

For a moment, he let himself imagine those discussions. It certainly wasn’t the first time over the past few days he had done so. Did anyone advocate for him? Had Shiro been the one to insist that they make sure the planet was livable? Had they chosen a basically uninhabited place because they wanted to keep him safe from possible Galra rule, or because they wanted to keep locals safe from him? Had anyone voted for just throwing him out the airlock?

He nodded and stood. “Okay.”

An opening was made in the force field so that Coran could enter and lock his wrists into energy cuffs. Then he was escorted up the walkway, into the elevator for a completely silent ride, and out into the familiar front hall. It almost seemed like just yesterday that he and the others had crept cautiously through those towering doors, having no clue the adventures that were waiting for them inside. Now he was being figuratively thrown out the same doors onto a planet that was just as unknown as Arus had been then.

The light was dim when they exited, whatever sun might exist there already having set. They were in an open, desert like area, but a forest of some sort was nearby. At least he had options. He knew how to make his way in an Earth desert, but for food and shelter the forest might be his best option.

“This is where we leave you.”

Coran stepped forward and removed the cuffs, and Keith absentmindedly rubbed at his wrists.

“Don’t suppose I get a communicator like our...your allies.”

Allura just stared at him with the same, unchanging expression. He ran a hand through his hair.

“Right. Listen, um...could you...give everybody a message from me? I was...hoping to get to say goodbye, but…”

Sighing heavily, Allura looked as if she was barely refraining from rolling her eyes. “I suppose that depends on what this ‘message’ is.”

“Um.” He looked down at his feet, scuffing the toes of his boot into the sand. “Tell...tell Hunk that I’ll...miss his cooking. Especially those brownies he made for me. And tell Lance that...I never hated him. He...annoyed me sometimes, but...he was a good friend, too.”

He drew in a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Tell Pidge…” He swallowed. “Tell Pidge that I hope she finds her family. I really, really do. And that she’s doing great with her bayard. I...kept meaning to tell her that, but never did.

“And Shiro…” His jaw tightened. There were so, so many things to say to Shiro. Things that he should have said long ago, things that he had said before but could never say enough. Things that he’d never get a chance to say again. He dashed errant tears away with the back of his hand. “Just...tell him I love him.”

He looked up finally, giving a wobbly half smile. Allura looked even sterner than before, though Coran’s mouth had twisted a bit to the side in an expression that Keith couldn’t read. “And thank you both, for letting me have the chance to fly Red. She’s...amazing.” One corner of his mouth lifted a little more. “Tell her I’ll miss her.”

A long, awkward moment passed before Allura cleared her throat. “Right, then. If that’s all…”

Coran seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts and pulled Keith’s knife out of his pocket. “We figured you might as well have this. It is yours, after all, and you’ll need it, I’m sure.”

Keith whispered his thanks as he gingerly took it from the man's hands.

“Alright. Well...farewell, Number Four.” Coran gave a little salute, Allura a curt nod, and they turned their backs to walk back up into the Castle.

Once they were gone, Keith stayed rooted in place, unable to make himself move. It was only when the Castle rumbled to life that he took a few unsteady steps backwards. The place that he had come to call home over the past few months lifted from the ground before shooting off into the sky. Keith tipped back his head and watched until it was no more than a speck, blending in with the stars that had begun to come out, refusing to let the tears that burned at his eyelids fall.

There was a pretty good chance that none of his messages would ever get relayed. He hoped they would, but knew that he’d never find out one way or the other. He’d never see any of those he thought were his friends again.

He was alone.

All that was left to do now was survive.

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mannatea · 3 years

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Hi. I used to follow your old blog on a different account. Hope you're doing well. Do you have any tips on thinking up stories that are *not* dark and depressing due to subject material? The last story I was working on I had to quit because the backstory I was developing for my passive male character was super depressing. At times I enjoyed researching it, though what won out was the thought I was wasting my time looking into angsty things for something I wasn't even planning to publish. Now I want to write something a little happier. But I have the most experience in writing angst and cringe comedy 😅 thanks for any help you can give. Stay safe out there!

By the way, good on you for dropping that manga you used to follow. I was happy most of the characters lived, but other than that, it felt "meh" to me (granted, I didn't read all the way from the beginning). The author was probably going for a "people will always be fighting each other" theme, but some of the imagery of what happened after a time skip could definitely be taken as pro-fascist. And I was disappointed the protagonist basically said he wanted to bring about destruction! I'm glad I didn't spend any money to read it.

Wow, hi! I’m doing all right, thanks for asking. I hope you’re doing all right, too. :)

As far as “that manga” goes, I’ve kept tabs on it. I’ve been on the fringes for the last two-ish years; I dedicated something like four real life years to that fandom and mostly had a good time while I was there (made some friends I hope to keep for life), so it was one of those situations where I just had to find out how it ended. I realized at some point that I was in a very negative space in the fandom, and felt it was better to publicly drop the series and the blog associated with all of my meta/discussion than to play in what had become a toxic pool for me. I didn’t really want to drop the account after my time there, but I couldn’t have dealt with the nonstop questions/messages/etc that would have piled in over the years, and eh, when you’re done you’re done. I criticize Hallmark television for fun, now, instead. It’s a lot less stressful! And literally nothing is That Deep so there’s very few delusions, at least on the Tumblr side of things. (Reddit, however, is insane, but I don’t post in the fandom there.)

As far as writing advice goes, I am going to apologize in advance for muddled thoughts. I just got out of work and have been staring at numbers all day, so it’s hard for me to think lmaoo.

In my opinion, any sort of character or personality type/flaw/whatever could have developed via a negative OR positive influence/catalyst, so that’s something to consider. I also think people tend to reach for “sad” or “traumatic” pasts either as a way to cope with their own issues/pasts/whatevers, or because it’s the “easy explanation” for why a character is the way they are.

If you WANT to write things a certain way, it’s sometimes a matter of changing the lens through which you’re viewing life, the story, the characters, or character writing in general. This is never easy, especially when you find a genre you feel comfortable in, but it’s always possible. When I was in college and submitted an autobiographical piece (Rot Tooth) for a creative writing final, I received multiple comments from classmates and even the professor that my talent/skill was in writing comedy. COMEDY!!!! I don’t think anyone who has read my writing from the last decade would say that I was a comedy writer. I stopped labeling ‘fics as humor/romance so long ago I can’t even remember when it was. But boom. I had written a comedy piece.

I don’t think I can ignore that most of the comedic elements in Rot Tooth were brought about because humor is one of the ways in which I cope with things, but it was also a very conscious choice I made. I wanted people to be able to engage with the story without being grossed out, without getting bored, without feeling that it was a poor-pathetic-me story, and humor was the classiest way to do it. Here, read this long story that includes journal entries from Ye Olde Livejournal days, but it will make you laugh often enough that the depressing aspects of the story don’t weigh it down too much! It was probably the only way to make the subject matter widely palatable.

As often as I joke about characters or scenes or moments that “just write themselves” the author does have control. I mostly write fanfiction, so let’s go with examples from that.

I’m (very slowly) working on a ‘fic called Three Years which features a character who, when last seen, was headed off to serve a prison sentence. They haven’t been on the show for three years and thus I assume they have been serving that sentence for the last three years. The story starts when this character is released from prison. They are a woman. This is a historical piece of fiction. Prisons were vile to women and yet...this is fiction. I have a choice. I get to choose. Does she get to start her life off carrying 25 bags of trauma or just 2? It would be unreasonable to expect that someone, especially a woman, who was imprisoned for 3 years in the early 1900s wouldn’t have some issues (at the very least, the isolation would have been awful), but it doesn’t really have to be much worse than that. It doesn’t.

I have the power to choose.

A character has anger issues. Sure, he could have had a traumatic past with an abusive parent who took his anger out on him or his mom or whatever...or maybe it is an inherited personality trait and the parent figure with the problem was never really That Bad about it, but seeing it normalized makes it harder for the character in question to realize it’s a huge problem and part of their character arc is realizing they need to get help, not because they don’t want to be like their dad, and not because they hate their dad, but because they just want to be a better person/they don’t want to let that struggle consume them.

Someone’s sweetheart goes off to war. Guess what? They don’t have to die there to force a traumatic past. They don’t have to come back a raging alcoholic either. Maybe the time apart, and the time fighting a war just puts a natural sort of crack in the relationship by making it clearer to each character what they want in life/what matters to them in their life.

A character is super passionate about their work/hobby. Maybe they have ADHD and it’s a hyperfixation. Maybe they’re autistic and it’s a Special Interest. It doesn’t have to be “their parents ignored them and forced them to be alone all the time and they used this thing to cope so it means everything to them because it’s always been there.”

Maybe you have a character whose greatest fear is losing the people they love. It doesn’t have to be because a pet died in their arms when they were four and it traumatized them. It doesn’t have to be because they only have one person they love in the whole world. It can just be a thing because that’s a valid fear literally anyone can reasonably have, and maybe it’s a bigger deal because they don’t have siblings or aren’t close to many people! (And the “aren’t close to many people” thing doesn’t have to stem from trauma, either. Most busy adults for example who get to choose their friends, are just like that.)

A perfectionist might just have the personality type; it doesn’t mean their parents criticized everything they ever did. A person with three failed marriages might hesitate to fall in love and try again but it doesn’t have to be because those three failed marriages were abusive. A quiet character may just be shy or introverted by nature.

I think everyone carries some kind of trauma with them, so it’s never unreasonable to have some in a person’s past (you can’t write an ugly character without having to think about the fact that they carry some trauma from what it’s like to grow up ugly), but it doesn’t have to define them. It doesn’t have to overshadow everything else in their past.

You can always ask yourself, “Why am I reaching for angst every time I create a backstory?” Literally everyone has some kind of angst. Most kids were hurt by things said to them in school, for example, or made fun of for some reason. Most people did something extremely embarrassing as a kid and never got over it. There are a thousand little moments in our adult lives that go back to these little points—you might call them the tiny traumas. But they’re not defining. They’re not so heavy they also live in the present. Not all of them.

Why do you reach for the darkest corner? Why not for the light? Or a middle ground?

I encourage people to write basically whatever floats their boat, but it sounds like you’re at a point where you just feel weighed down by that sort of stuff, and that’s not a great way to feel, especially when it discourages you from working on a project entirely.

My final suggestion: look at some of your favorite characters from various types of media. Are they all traumatized? What are their defining characteristics? Black Beauty has some depressing stuff in it, but is ultimately a story with a happy ending. Pride and Prejudice has drama, but nobody’s past is filled with the darkest stuff imaginable. North and South has awful things to consider in it (cotton mills were sooo awful) but the characters are not wildly traumatized people.

What kind of story are you trying to tell? Do the characters need to be traumatized to tell it? Does the story have to be dark to get across the message you want to send?

Way back in the day, when I was into “that manga” I made an RP blog for a one-off character that nobody gave a damn about. Like, he was so one-off that even back in those days nobody even remembered him having existed. It was sort of a joke RP blog that wasn’t supposed to be serious. The only canon information we had about this character was that he enjoyed drinking. I decided to make him a lighthearted character because the series was pretty dark and I wanted to send people hilarious starters instead of wading through the muck of depression with everyone else’s sad, abused characters. I decided his family was old money and he had a brother. Nothing super traumatizing in his past. Some family issues but not the sort of thing that would haunt anyone. He was not traumatized in his recent past any more than other characters were. Mostly just “a regular guy.” I really loved RPing him. He was fun! The story could get heavy but he didn’t have to be.

Anyway, dive head-first into the dark angst if you want, but if it’s not necessary to tell the story you want to tell, just remember you don’t have to go there. You have the choice.

#long post #thoughts about writing #nacrene-archaeologist #answered mail

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Doctor Who Series 13: Jodie Whittaker Leaving Rumours, the Next Doctor, and the Future

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Jodie Whittaker is fast approaching that three-season milestone at which most Doctors pull the inter-dimensional rip-cord and eject themselves from the TARDIS. Speculation has swirled around her, as it does for most Doctors, from the very start of her tenure, and now, more than ever, there’s the strong scent of Regeneration in the wind. So, will Whittaker leave at the close of series 13? And if so, will any of her companions remain to bridge the gap between eras? Might showrunner Chris Chibnall also hang up his sonic-shaped pen? The BBC is playing its cards characteristically close to its chest, so divining the answers to these questions is not unlike trying to unlock the mystery of the Doctor’s real name.

There was an ample reminder of the BBC’s zeal for secrecy when Who-newcomer and beloved Liverpudlian John Bishop – cast last year as companion Dan – was rebuked for revealing during an online Q&A that his character, too, would be Liverpudlian. If the BBC don’t want you to know that a Liverpudlian might be playing a Liverpudlian, then this is going to be a bumpy ride. But let’s strap in, brace for impact, and see what’s (or Who’s) out there…

Jodie Whittaker on leaving

Everyone has their favourite Doctors, and not-so favourite Doctors. Jodie Whittaker is not alone in having had love and scorn heaped upon her in equal measure, a phenomenon that has touched most actors to have taken on the role, with the possible exception of Tom Baker and David Tennant, who stand as almost deified in their respective eras.

It’s clear, though, that Jodie Whittaker has loved every moment of being the Doctor, and of being embraced by the show’s fandom, telling the Telegraph in November 2020: “If you bump into a Whovian, it genuinely makes both of your days. There’s something emotional, poetic and very humbling about being in the show, because you’re a little tiny jigsaw piece of something that is so precious to so many people.” It’s perhaps understandable, then, that her response to the speculation around her departure was to say: “To even question an end point would be too upsetting.”

Or, to parrot one of her predecessors: “I don’t want to go.”

Where’s the evidence?

Over the last eighteen months, rumours that Jodie Whittaker will be leaving after season 13 have been endlessly shared and repeated. These rumours were reported as fact by some media outlets earlier in the year, though the BBC has steadfastly refused either to confirm or deny them. It does, however, seem more likely than not that 13 will be 13’s last; a supposition based upon the ‘Who Rule of Three’ and the unignorable sound of drums gathering pitch and pace across the internet.

In the hunt for ‘evidence’, dead-ends and red-herrings abound. IMDb currently reveals no projects rumoured or in pre-production for Jodie Whittaker beyond her TARDIS tenure, but, then, actors keeping contractual secrets would be fools to release their schedules onto one of the most comprehensive entertainment databases ever to have existed. So no help there.

The Mirror newspaper recently reported that the front-cover of the 2022 Doctor Who annual would be Doctor-less for the first time in its 57-year-history. Could this be a clue? Not likely. The people at Penguin Random House – the annual’s publishers – made it clear that the thirteenth Doctor will feature heavily throughout the publication. So whether the new cover is simply a radical redesign, a yielding to the purchasing power of this era of the show’s vocal detractors; or a shrewd marketing move designed to have the product promoted for free in the press, it doesn’t actually tell us very much about the likelihood of the 13th Doctor’s exit.

Peter Capaldi’s Trouser Clue

We might, however, be looking for clues in all the wrong places. Peter Capaldi deduced that he’d be handing over the TARDIS keys to a woman a few days before the BBC officially broke the news to him: thanks to his tailor.

At a New York Comic Con panel in 2017, Capaldi told the audience: “I went into Paul Smiths, which is a very wonderful clothes shop in London where I buy my suits, and everybody knows me in there. And they said, ‘We just got a call,’ they said, ‘from the Doctor Who office saying, ‘Can we have a pair of [Peter’s] trousers, but with a waist size thirty?’ … And I thought, ‘Well, that can’t really be a man with a thirty-inch waist. That must be a lady then’.”

Staking out Jodie’s tailor probably won’t prove fruitful, though. Knowing the BBC, they’ve probably plugged that potential leak by sub-contracting Jodie’s wardrobe out to a mute grandma living alone in a fortress atop the Himalayas.

Doctor Who: the behind-the-scenes causes of regeneration

By Mark Harrison

Doctor Who: Which New Doctors Are Now Canon?

By Chris Farnell

Will the Doctor Regenerate in 2022?

Series 13 will consist of eight episodes, set to begin airing later this year. The Mirror reports that there will be two specials in 2022, although it isn’t clear whether these will be in addition to this year’s 8, or whether we’ll see a split of 6 episodes in 2021 with the 2 specials being held over for 2022. A special – Christmas Day, New Year’s Day or otherwise – has become the traditional arena for regeneration, so if Whittaker is leaving, it’s likely that her final scene will come at the end of that rumoured second special.

Many think that the greatest evidence for Whittaker remaining as the Doctor until at least 2023 is our proximity to Doctor Who‘s upcoming 60th anniversary. After all, it would seem a shame to bow out before a big milestone, and it could be daunting to saddle a new Doctor with spearheading such a significant celebration. Still, the timey-wimeyness of it all means that even should Whittaker leave in 2022 there’s no reason she couldn’t make an appearance in an anniversary episode, perhaps alongside a few other previous incarnations. And 2022 marks the 100th anniversary of the BBC itself, so it’s hard to imagine that the show won’t be doing something extra special to mark that, given that it owes its very existence and longevity to the broadcaster (Michael Grade notwithstanding). Whenever she leaves, 13 could easily have her cake and eat it.

Will Chris Chibnall leave after Series 13?

When Bradley Walsh and Tosin Cole left at the end of ‘Revolution of the Daleks‘, Mandip Gill’s Yaz stayed behind. Yaz has been one of the new era’s most underdeveloped characters, so it made sense that she would get her chance to shine and grow in a less crowded environment, sharing companion duties only with John Bishop’s newly teased Dan. But as her character and her story seems so intrinsically linked to the Doctor herself, with the promise of more in-depth exploration to come in series 13, when/if the Doctor leaves, will Yaz’s story also draw to a close? Will only Dan remain with a foot in two TARDISes? All speculation at this point, and it very much hinges on which direction the writers take Yaz in this next clutch of episodes.

Showrunner Chris Chibnall – a lifelong fan of the show and, prior to his appointment as big chief, a long-standing writer for both Doctor Who and Torchwood – has been at least as divisive a figure in Who fandom as 80s helmsman Jonathan Nathan-Turner. Rumours regarding his possible departure have circulated with just as much frequency as those surrounding Whittaker. When asked about series 13, Chris Chibnall told the Radio Times: “I do know I’m coming back for a third season. Yeah, absolutely.” Within those words, if you look hard enough, exists the implied absence of certainty around future seasons, but perhaps that’s getting rather too Da Vinci Code about the whole thing.

While the stewardships of previous showrunners Russell T. Davies and Steven Moffat spanned two Doctors each, this doesn’t mean that Chris Chibnall is guaranteed a crack at the 14th Doctor. Should Chibnall leave after season 13, among the writing team perhaps only Pete McTighe – who wrote ‘Kerblam!‘ And co-wrote ‘Praxeus‘ – has the experience to take over as showrunner, given his stint over-seeing the award-winning Australian prison-drama Wentworth.

How might 13’s Regeneration Happen?

Each of the modern Doctors has met their end in the service of some great sacrifice, either to protect a companion or to save if not the universe then at least a world within it. It’s unlikely that 13’s exit will be any different. It’s simply a question of against whom or what she’ll be fighting when her time comes.

Though it may be too soon for the Master to be directly responsible for the undoing of yet another Doctor so soon after 12’s John-Simm-shaped downfall, it’s likely that the Master will at the very least influence the direction of 13’s regeneration. Sacha Dhawan has expressed enthusiasm at the idea of returning, though nothing, as you would expect, has yet been confirmed. Or denied.

The revelations in ‘The Timeless Children‘, controversial though they proved for some fans, are perhaps too epoch-shaking and era-defining not to play a part in 13’s swansong, and it may well be that the shadowy Division – the Time Lord’s very own version of Starfleet’s Section 31 – will be complicit in the Doctor’s fall.

Another question presents itself: now that the Doctor knows she has infinite regenerations, might it make her more reckless? Might she start to see her body more like an easily changeable suit than a thing of flesh and blood? Might she regenerate multiple times before becoming the 14th Doctor, a la The Curse of Fatal Death, and what on earth would we call the 14th Doctor – who wouldn’t really be the 14th Doctor at all – if that happened?

Who’s in the running for the next Doctor?

Many of the same actors tipped as possible replacements near the end of Capaldi’s run have reappeared in the Regeneration rumour mill, including firm favourites Michaela Coel, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Michael Sheen, David Harewood, Richard Ayoade and the indefatigable Kris Marshall. Joining them this time are Line of Duty alumni Kelly MacDonald and Vicky McClure, and It’s a Sin front-man Olly Alexander. It could be that one of them, or none of them get the call. The next Doctor could just as easily be Jo Martin’s fugitive Doctor, who’s been hiding in plain sight all along.

Really though, as with all things connected with the show at this stage of its cycle: Who knows?

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Doctor Who Series 13 will air on BBC One later this year.

The post Doctor Who Series 13: Jodie Whittaker Leaving Rumours, the Next Doctor, and the Future appeared first on Den of Geek.

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