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ev-pierce-writes · 3 years

Text

Bolero

Javier PenaxReader pairing

Rating: Explicit (duh)

7.4 K

What starts as just a job as an informant quickly turns into an attraction to Agent Javier Peña.

Essentially what I think it's like to dance with Javi. Plus having sex.

If you want to listen to the song I picture them dancing to it's called Dos Gardenias by Buena Vista Social Club. I know it didn't come out until the 90s but I really don't care.

___

You didn't like this part of the job. Hated it, actually. Your feet hurt in your heels and the humidity was making you sweat. But tips were tips, even if it involved fake flirting with old men.

The music ended and José spun you into a dip as the small crowd clapped. José was an excellent dancer and he made for a good partner when it came time to actually perform for the guests, rather than try to drag them onto the dance floor. Most people assumed you were a couple you danced so in sync, but it wasn't like that.

He was a good friend though. He'd gotten you the job at the bistro, and for the small pain of three choreographed dances a night plus a few private salsas, you were paid handsomely. Of course, this wasn't your dream, performing in a smoky, humid bar for tourists and old handsy men. You would rather be on the stage as a professional, performing only for the people who could afford a ticket, not just a watered-down tequila. But work was work and money was money.

Now your least favorite part. You leaned an elbow on the bar, sweeping the crowd for whatever gringo looked the least gross. The manager insisted you interacted with the customers, reeling them in with a sexy pose and a few awkward steps on the dance floor. They tended to drink more when you did that, which was good for the bar, and you usually ended up with a couple of extra bills in your hand, which was good for you. So you complied.

An older, slightly less creepy-looking gentleman had caught your eye, and you were about to approach when you felt a gentle hand on your elbow.

"Mind teaching me a few of those steps you just did?" The music was starting up again with a bolero, your cue to find the dance floor, so you figured you'd comply with the request. Except when you looked into the face of the stranger who had spoken those words, you were taken aback. He was young, or at least younger than most of the men in here, and taller too. Shining from his tanned face were chocolatey brown eyes, surprisingly sincere and kind. His dark hair was combed into place, though a few stray curls peeked out from behind his ears and at the base of his neck.

"Sí, señor." The Spanish came out as a force of habit, though he had addressed you in English and a perfect American accent. Men liked it when you spoke Spanish, even if they couldn't understand. It gave them the impression that you were exotic. But the man half expected that from you. He'd been watching you most of the night, analyzing the way you moved, the way you beguiled the guests into a dance and then a drink, the way you controlled a man's mood with the flick of your hips and slide of your hand up his arm. The perfect skill set of a secret plant.

Without any hesitation, the man took your hand in his and led you into the crowd of dancing people. He placed his other on your hip, though he left a respectful distance between the two of you. It was uncharacteristic of the guests to do so; they generally felt they had some right to press up against you as they stumbled around.

But this man was different. He already knew the three-quarter timing. He seemed a bit tense, like he was having trouble letting loose, but he wasn't clumsy at all. "I don't think you need my instruction," you said.

The man smiled, his mustache curling up to reveal a single dimple on his smooth cheek.

"No, hermana, I don't."

Maybe there was some Latino in that tan after all. But his reply caught you off guard. You hoped pulling you onto the dance floor wasn't his attempt at flirting. You'd made a pact with yourself to never sleep with the guests, and so far you'd held true.

But he wasn't flirting, though he desperately wanted to. You were exactly the type of girl he'd pick up on a boring night, or pay to have sex with him and share your secrets. But tonight was strictly business.

"Do you work here every night?" he asked. It was a strangely specific question, though maybe he was hoping to see you again, you thought.

"Only Thursday, Friday, Saturday," you replied. The bistro only ever needed you on the busiest nights of the week, which was fine with you. Three days of work made you plenty of money, and then you had the rest of the week off. "Why? Are you already planning a second dance?"

The man ignored his question to ask another of his own. "Do you make a lot of money?"

His questions were starting to sound a bit bizarre and he wasn't answering yours either. Why did he care what you made?

"Unless you're planning on hiring me and paying me more, I don't see why you need to know." It wasn't good to be snappy with paying customers, but this enigma of a man didn't seem like the average customer to you. And instead of getting defensive at your tone, his mood shifted quickly and he laughed. A deep, throaty laugh, just as gravely and melodious as his voice. He liked your confidence and your attitude. But then he was back to business just as quickly.

The man led you towards the back of the dance floor, away from the crowd and the watchful eye of the bartender, a move that made you worry and caused you to doubt his intentions. His eyes had gone serious, a wrinkle of concentration between his eyebrows and crowding out the kindness.

"Actually, I would like to hire you."

You came to a stop in surprise but the man pulled you forward, urging you to continue dancing so as not to draw attention to the pair of you. He drew you closer so he could speak directly into your ear, forcing you to breathe in his scent with the proximity, cologne and cigarettes and the saltiness of a light sweat.

"You have a club or something?"

He didn't answer your question, just asked more of his own. "Do you know runs this place?"

You shrugged. "I think his name is Manuel, but I've only met him once."

"Keep an eye out for him, will you? See when he comes and goes, if he gets any shipments or deliveries. I'll pay you for providing information."

It was your turn to finally get some answers. "Who are you?"

"My name is Javier Peña." Javier spun you out before pulling you back into his chest.

"Well, Señor Peña, I don't know who you think I am, but I am not a spy and I don't give a damn about what my employer does. So why do you care what he does?"

"Let's just say the government has a special interest in your employer. But we'd like to keep this little piece of knowledge under wraps."

You eyed Javier suspiciously. Why would the government be interested in what your boss did with his bistro? And why would this man, Javier Peña, trust you to deliver secrets? But again, money was money. Little did you know, Javier Peña was aware of your lack of loyalty to anyone, as long as they were paying you, and he gambled on this fact to ease you into a deal.

"How much are you offering?"

"I'll double whatever you make now."

Double? Mierda. "Bueno, double it is. Not sure what you expect me to find, but I'll keep my eyes open."

That full smile returned, white teeth and all. "Un secreto, sí?"

You nodded in return as the song came to an end. Letting go of your waist, Javier pulled a pair of aviators from the deep vee of his shirt and slipped them on before handing you a business card from the back pocket of his jeans. He instructed you to call him if you saw anything, anything at all. Javier gave you a salute and turned to leave, though not before asking you one more question.

"And your name?"

Now is when you usually lied, telling whatever slimeball you'd just swayed into oblivion a made-up name, like Rosa or Maria. But something about this time was different. This time, you gave him your real name.

"Adiós, bailarina," he said with a grin.

"Adiós, Señor Peña." It wasn't until you were home that you noticed he'd slipped a small stack of bills into your pocket.

---

Standing in the living room of your apartment, you held the card Javier had given you almost a week ago. You hadn't been exactly sure what he was asking you to look out for. You rarely saw your boss anyway. But then tonight, as you'd arrived at work, a truck had been parked by the employee entrance of the bistro. Manuel was still nowhere to be found, but stacks upon stacks of boxes were being unloaded into the dry storage of the kitchen. And you had taken note of it all.

Finally, you picked up the phone off its cradle and dialed the number on the card, wrapping the thick cord around your fingers as it rang. A moment of silence, and then a deep voice spoke on the other end of the line.

"Javier Peña speaking." It sounded like he had just woken up, his voice softer than you remembered and groggy as well. It was a bit late, after midnight, but you figured this was something he wanted to hear sooner rather than later.

"Hola, Senior Peña, it's me from the bistro." Another silence, some shuffling, and was that a voice in the background? "Did I wake you?"

"No, not at all. What's up?"

"You wanted to know if Manuel had a shipment, right?"

"Yes, yes, what did you see?"

"Hm, I could tell you. Or I could get my mi dinero first."

Javier sighed on the other end. "Right, of course. How much do I owe you?"

"Let's see, including tips, I made 300 this week."

"Fine, 300 pesos it is. Where can I meet you?"

"You want to meet right now?"

Apparently, he did. You gave him the address to a twenty-four-hour diner you liked and he hung up, saying he'd meet you there. You gathered your purse, double-checking that the small handgun you carried for self-defense was still there. Not that you were worried the mysterious Javier Peña was someone to be scared of. But better safe than sorry.

Ten minutes later, you stepped out into the heat of the summer air. The darkness of night did little to reduce the temperature, but the humidity had dissipated enough that you rolled the windows of the car down and blasted your music into the silent night.

Though you were sure you looked a bit frazzled and worn out when you parked, Javier only noticed the flush on your cheeks and the curl of your windswept hair as he watched you step out of the car through the window of the diner. You hadn't bothered to change out of your dress and heels from work, which left little to the imagination in the way of your long legs and curved waist. When he'd first approached you last week, he'd been polite and reserved, only letting his hands fall where they were meant to in a dance. But tonight, the ruching of your dress at your hips called out to be touched. Javier knew it was all part of your job, but part of him wished you'd dressed up like that just for him. He shook his head. He shouldn't be thinking about you like this.

A little bell jingled over the door as you drifted into the warm restaurant.

Javier steadied his hands and composed his face, not wanting to reveal the true thoughts running through his mind as you plopped into the booth seat across from him. He looked ready to get down to business, but you were hungry and held up a hand to silence him before he could begin to speak. The waitress came and took your order, a burger and fries, before turning to Javier. He relented to whatever game you were playing and ordered as well in perfect Spanish.

"Where are you from?" you asked as the waitress left to place your orders.

"This little meeting isn't about me," Javier replied, sounding a bit preoccupied, distracted even. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing the smooth skin of his neck and chest, as if he'd dressed in a hurry.

"Eh, that's not very polite. Did I interrupt a little midnight date with your amorcita?" You were pretty sure that had been a woman's voice in the background when you called him earlier. His response, or lack thereof, told you everything you needed to know. Emboldened by his reaction, you continued on with your one-sided conversation.

"I love American food. Are burgers better in Texas? That is where you're from, no?"

The look of shock that flitted across Javier's face was enough to satisfy you and you leaned back in your seat with a smile. You tried your best not to show how pleased you were with his reaction, but your comment got you thinking about what he was like in bed. That was not a direction you needed your mind to wander, especially when it caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

"Okay, detective, I think that's enough. You want your money or not?" Though he acted annoyed, Javier was secretly impressed. What had given it away? His accent maybe?

"Sí, sí. Although I am a bit interested to know where my money is coming from."

"I told you. The government."

"You haven't really proven that to me though. Besides, what if you're trying to put my boss out of business? Then I'm out of a job. A good-paying job."

"I am trying to put your boss out of business." The withering look you gave Javier didn't put him off, though you wished it did. If looks could kill and all that. But it did provoke him to pull something from his back pocket and hold it up to your face. "DEA. You know what that is right?"

"Mierda, was it drugs in those boxes?" You couldn't help the shock that spread across your face.

"Maybe."

You pulled a notepad from your purse as the waitress returned with your food. In between bites, you read off of the notes you'd taken.

"I got to work at 4:30. The truck was already there. Manuel was not. Some men unloaded the boxes into the kitchen."

"How many."

"I don't know."

Javier raised his eyebrows. If he'd learned anything from this conversation it was that you were an observant person. He doubted that you hadn't bothered to count them. He had only to wait for you to continue on your own.

"Bueno, forty or so. This big," you indicated with your hands, about the size of the box the tomatoes came in.

"And it wasn't just food in there? You're sure it was something different than normal?"

"Come on, don't you trust me?"

"No," was his swift reply, though it was said with a smile.

"Alright, then. I looked in one. Not food, for sure."

Javier nodded in understanding and pulled a billfold from his back pocket, ready to hand over your cash.

"Espere, Señor, you think that's all I've got?" you said teasingly as you finished your fries and sucked the grease from your fingertips. "You really have no faith, dios mío."

Javier watched you intently, scrutinizing the way your tongue licked away the grease from your thumb. He took a deep breath that sounded like exasperation to you but was really meant to release an uncomfortable knot building in his stomach as he tried not to imagine what else your tongue could do.

"At 5:30, a woman named Victoria called looking for Manuel. No one answered the phone so I did. She left this message." You read directly from the notepad. "I like chocolate ice cream better than vanilla. Maybe you can take me to la heladería tomorrow."

"You're joking."

"Not at all. She said that," you said defensively. "Even gave me an address."

You ripped the paper from your notebook at handed it to Javier as he rubbed a hand along his strong jaw.

"So what are you going to do? Maybe a stakeout, arrest some people, wave your armas around?"

Javier rolled his eyes. "The DEA isn't all about stakeouts and guns. But no, we aren't going to do anything yet. There's no need to reveal our plant. And we don't want you to end up dead so don't get caught either."

"How reassuring. I'm glad the United States has me in their best interests," you deadpanned.

"Just keep doing what you're doing."

"Oh, so you want to see me again? Next time you can buy me a drink."

"Don't flatter yourself."

You laughed in response. Sure, this was all about money, but it was nice to have a real conversation with someone who was witty enough to keep up with your banter. But he was still too easy to tease and you took advantage of it. You liked the way his eyes narrowed and his brows creased when you got under his skin.

"You know, I'll just take it as a compliment that you're only paying me for information and not sex as well," you said as you stood, placing a couple of bills onto the table as a tip.

Javier groaned in frustration. Talking to you was like walking through a hailstorm of bullets. He was bound to get grazed no matter how careful he was. "Eh, mujer, give me a break, por favor."

And yet, despite his protests, Javier liked your sharp tongue. It intrigued him. Normally, he didn't care much about who his informants were or where they were from. But Javier was curious about you. You were smart, skilled, and good at influencing people to comply with your desires. And yet you spent your weekends on a sticky dance floor, performing for gringos like him.

The glittering smile you gave him as you left him sitting in the booth lit a small flame in his heart.

"Buenas noches, Señor Peña," you said to him as you left, almost out the door before he called your name. You turned back. "Qué pasa?"

"Javi. Just call me Javi."

---

Several weeks went by like this, with you calling Javier late at night to let him know what you'd seen. The check-ins came every Saturday, as the shipments had been consistent and seemed to run on a schedule. Eventually, you got comfortable enough to let Javier come to your apartment and exchange information for cash on your couch. You had no idea, but Javier was beginning to expect your calls, anticipating the ringing of his phone around midnight and hearing your voice on the other end.

But when you didn't check in one week, he began to worry. It was past one in the morning. Surely you would have called by now. Maybe he had missed it? There was no way; he'd sat next to the phone all night. So Javier did something he never did. He called you instead. When you didn't answer, he started to suspect something was wrong. Javier told himself to calm down, that you had probably just forgotten, or that maybe nothing of note had happened this week, or you were already asleep. But he couldn't get it out of his mind that something had gone wrong, that you'd been found out and someone had hurt you.

It was nearly two when you finally got home. For some reason, the Saturday crowd had been extra lively tonight, keeping you much later than you wanted. As soon as you unlocked the door and stepped into your apartment, you pulled off your heels and unzipped your dress, peeling it from your sticky body right there in the living room. You needed a shower and you needed to call Javier, but all you wanted was sleep. It could wait until morning.

At last, you were ready for bed, windows pushed open to let in a breeze, sheets turned down, and in nothing but your dressing gown, when a knock sounded at your door. Who would be up at this time of night and disturbing your peace?

Looking through the peephole, you were shocked to find the last person on earth you expected to be standing in the hallway of your apartment building.

"Javi?" you said in confusion as you opened the door. He was leaning against the door frame, one hand on his hip, as if trying to look relaxed but totally failing at it. On Javier's face were written lines of worry, but they relaxed at the sight of you. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, good, you're home. I was worried."

Maybe it was the exhaustion fogging your brain, but he sounded genuinely distressed. The normally confident, almost arrogant Javier had been replaced with someone entirely different. "Sí, of course I'm home, where else would I be?"

"Well, you didn't call. And then you didn't answer your phone. So I was worried something had happened." Javier had managed to miss the state of your dress, or lack thereof, when you had first opened the door. But now, he noticed you wore a cream-colored dressing gown and little else. One sleeve had slipped off your shoulder in your hurry to dress, revealing the lack of anything beneath.

Javier's breath hitched in his throat as he desperately tried to tear his eyes away from your shoulder. It was a just shoulder, for god's sake. It's not like you were standing naked in front of him. But then he was thinking about you naked and that was an even bigger problem.

For a whole month, Javier had gone without a woman in his bed and it wasn't until he saw you that he realized why. He wanted you, but in a way that was different from the way he wanted anyone else. He didn't want you for information or even a quick release, but something more intimate and intense. What was wrong with him? He had to leave before he said something he might regret. You were an informant, a contact, a player in this long game of chess, and nothing more.

"I'm gonna go," Javier said, finally looking away. He was acting strange, even your tired eyes could tell. He looked disheveled, the buttons of his salmon pink shirt left open at the top and half-tucked into his jeans. His hair was no longer combed flat, the way it usually was when you saw him. Instead, it stuck up in all manner of directions, curly and unruly. Javier rubbed the back of his head as he turned to go. You weren't sure what exactly compelled you, but you called out to him before he could leave.

"Do you want a drink?" So much for sleep.

Javier had been in your apartment plenty of times. So why did he suddenly not know what to do with himself? He stood stiffly in the living room, eyeing the discarded dress you hadn't picked up yet. When you handed him a glass of whiskey he barely noticed. His mind was clearly not in the apartment, though his body was. Finally, he sat on the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees, the glass balanced precariously in one hand.

Javier's thoughts drifted from one place to another, relief that you were fine, embarrassment for having thought that you weren't, bliss at your invitation inside, and then shame for having accepted.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" he asked.

"Only if you share," you replied, sitting next to him on the couch with your own drink. The pair of you sat like that for a while, in complete silence, passing a single cigarette back and forth. Javier had no way of knowing but your thoughts followed a similar path to his, a rollercoaster masked by a sense of calm.

Your fingertips lightly grazed his as Javier passed you the cigarette. He watched you take a long draw, pulling the smoke deep into your lungs and letting it numb the strange feeling inside you. You were hyper-aware of Javier's presence beside you, his shoulder and knee barely grazing yours, even though you stared straight ahead at the clock on the wall. Three in the morning, it read. Perhaps it was something about the early morning hours, or the dim light of your living room, the only source from the kitchen, but the next words out of your mouth were the most sincere you'd ever spoken to him.

"Are you alright, Javi?"

"Sí."

"You don't seem alright." His voice was too calm. "Is it work?"

"No."

"Friends? Family?"

"No."

You paused, pretending to contemplate for a moment.

"Ah, I know. No pretty girls to warm your bed?" You couldn't help it, falling back into teasing him like that. But he didn't want to talk and it was the only way to draw him out.

"It's disturbing how observant you are," Javier said. It wasn't a true answer, but it was answer enough. He sighed and put the cigarette out before placing his head in his hands. "We aren't friends, you know."

It was a strange comment, almost like he was trying to convince himself of the fact, not you.

"Wow. I should be offended. But for your sake, I'll pretend like I'm not."

"That's not what I mean," Javier tried to explain. "I mean-- I mean I shouldn't be doing this." He waved his hand around as if it indicated anything about what 'this' was. But you understood. He shouldn't be accepting drinks after midnight and sharing cigarettes in dimly lit apartments. It was unprofessional. Then again, everything about your relationship was unprofessional, even the work only parts.

It had taken you a while to admit to yourself that you were attracted to Javier. But when you actually started to look forward to Saturday night, to your conversations, even though they revolved around your work, that's when you knew. It was something in the way he looked when he was listening to you, his eyes holding contact with yours, eyebrows furrowed, hand on his chin, that made you think maybe he felt the same way. His hands, what was it about them? They were big and strong and you hadn't yet forgotten the way they had held onto your waist as you danced the night you met.

Dance. You knew how to communicate with that. It was second nature. Perhaps it would let you both open up. So you stood and moved to the record player. The space wasn't big enough to truly dance, but you kept plenty of records on hand to practice new choreography alone. You pulled out your favorite, a gift from José, and carefully placed down the needle.

"The bolero is danced in 3/4 time," you said, holding out your hand to Javier. "But I think you knew that already."

Javier seemed to understand and only hesitated a moment. The music swelled and he took your hand in one of his, the other finding its place on your back between your shoulder blades. There wasn't much space to move, but he led you through the steps anyway. Rock forward, step right, rock back, step left. Repeat. Tonight, Javier held you close, your hips and chests pressed against one another in a way that was much different from the first time you'd danced. He was more relaxed as well, allowing his hips to move in time with yours. Javier leaned his cheek against yours.

When you'd invited him in for a drink, Javier hadn't been sure what your intentions were. He still wasn't, though something in the way you let his fingertips glide up and down your spine as you danced gave him an idea.

And yet, he couldn't read you at all, though it seemed he could have no secrets around you. You had picked up instantly on his strange mood and though he hated to admit it, he liked the way you were persistent in trying to draw him out from his shell. He found you alluring. You were beautiful, yes, and he imagined as he fell asleep at night what you might look like under your tight dresses and this deliciously thin robe. But he also liked you, liked talking to you, liked being around you, liked your incesant teasing.

The song ended and the next one started up again, but neither of you moved away. Somehow so starved for physical contact, you were drunk on one another's touch, swaying gently in the dark. "We shouldn't--" Javier tried to speak but you interrupted him.

"Stop with the should or should not, Javi. It's too late for that."

"Why did you invite me in?" Javier figured it was worth asking, just to be sure.

"Why did you show up at my apartment, uninvited, in the middle of the night?"

"Fuck," Javier cursed under his breath. "I'm tired of this. Your half-answers, my unanswered questions, dancing, literally dancing, around whatever truth there is between us. I just want to know what you're thinking and it's impossible to tell."

You were taken aback. You had been so preoccupied deciphering Javier for yourself you'd forgotten he was probably trying to do the same with you. The look in his eyes was desperate, needy, and untamed.

The sensible thing to do would be to kick him out, to end it here because this wasn't right. It wasn't professional. And it was breaking your biggest rule: never sleep with the customer. But you were anything but sensible with a drink swirling around your veins.

You pushed Javier away gently, and he looked slightly crestfallen before he saw what you did next. The drink may have given you a boost of confidence, but this desire was all your own. With a gentle tug at the tie of your robe, you let it fall from your shoulders, the silk pooling at your feet as you stood bare before him. Javier was frozen in place, but then his eyes widened in surprise before raking up and down your body unabashedly.

"Well, I guess that's some type of answer," he whispered. The clock ticked on the wall, counting down the moments.

"Your move, Javi." Your words stoked the flame in his heart that you'd lit so many weeks ago. But his brain struggled to keep up, still in shock at the sudden sight of you naked for him and him alone. He wanted to take in every inch of you and ravish you all at the same time.

Javier reached out a hand, hesitating slightly as if unsure if you were real or just a golden vision before him. In the dim light from the kitchen, you seemed to glow, wild hair swept behind your shoulders, chest rising and falling with anticipation. Finally, Javier's fingers made contact with your skin, the back of his knuckles gently grazing the plane of your stomach. You trembled when he finally offered you his touch, goosebumps following the path of his hand as he moved up your body toward the curve of your breast. His thumb brushed across your nipple, causing you to gasp and nearly jump out of your skin. But his hand didn't linger, instead tracing the lines of your sternum to your collarbone and up your neck.

Javier's hand found its place on your cheek, his thumb sweeping across the ridge of your cheekbone. You closed your eyes softly, relishing in the sensation of his skin on yours. His hand was calloused but surprisingly smooth, as if worn by years of the same work. You turned your face toward his hand, pressing your lips to his palm.

You kept your eyes closed, expecting him to kiss you, your lips burning with apprehension. But the kiss didn't come, only the soft sounds of him moving and his hand leaving your face. You opened your eyes, worried he'd changed his mind and was leaving you there vulnerable to the world.

Instead, you found him kneeled before you, like a subject before his queen.

A shiver had run down Javier's spine when you'd kissed his palm as he pictured placing his own lips to yours. But something about the way you looked in that moment, ethereal, celestial, divine, forced him to his knees in worship. He wanted to taste every inch of you, learn every curve and crevasse of your body. You were just as beautiful--no, even more beautiful--than he'd imagined alone in his bed at night. And here you were, offering up that smooth skin, those thighs, those lips. And he would fucking worship you.

One hand found your waist, gripping gently but firmly to hold you in place. The other pulled a knee over his shoulder, causing you to stumble forward and forcing you to grab onto Javier for stability. But his hands held you firmly as his fingers sunk into the flesh of your ass, pulling you closer to his face, mouth sinking into you fluttering lips.

You gasped, fingers tangling into Javier's unruly hair and holding on tight, the sensation of his tongue against your clit making your legs go weak. A groan came from between your thighs, sending vibrations through your core and twisting your stomach into knots.

"Fuck, just like I imagined," Javier mumbled under his breath.

Like he'd imagined?

"You've pictured this?" you managed to ask between breaths. You could barely speak, the moans tumbling from your mouth leaving little oxygen in your lungs for anything else.

"Amor, you send me to sleep at night and wake me up in the morning."

Oh mierda, his tongue was continuing to swirl around your clit, leaving you unable to control your thoughts or your movements. Your hips shifted of their own accord, grinding against Javier's face as he ate you out. At some point, he would need to come up for air, but for now, he was perfectly content to suffocate between your captivating legs, drinking in your scent and swallowing the taste of you.

Javier was guiding you languidly toward your climax, savoring every shudder and twitch he pulled from you. The muscles of your pelvic floor seized and you let out a delirious moan. The tension that preceded your orgasm curled up through your stomach and into your lungs, drawing the strength from your limbs. Suddenly unable to hold up your upper half, let alone stabilize your legs, you slumped forward, chin hanging heavily against your chest, hands sliding down Javier's back and gripping the fabric of his shirt.

"Javi, please, I can't hold on." You needed to sit, lay down, anything, before you collapsed in ecstasy here in the living room. At your words, Javier picked up the pace, taking you from a gradual climb to a swift ascent. His acceleration told you everything you needed to know. Come for him, and he'd take you to the bedroom.

So you did, your orgasm shuddering through you at a staggering pace. It rushed through you, searing and urgent, and something told you this was only the beginning. A warm-up of sorts, leaving you unable to stand yet shivering for more. The last waves of your orgasm spread through you, Javier drinking them from you until your trembling subsided and your breathing came back to normal. He caught you as you eased back into your body, picking you up by the waist and slinging you over his shoulder. You giggled at the sudden change of perspective, now hanging upside down with an excellent view of Javier's ass.

"What are you doing?"

Javier didn't answer.

With a flop, you landed on the bed on your back. Javier stood over you, taking in the sight of you. Little did he know, you were doing the same, even though he was still fully clothed. You sat up on the edge of the bed and tugged at his shirt, pulling it from his tight jeans. Javier undid the buttons, letting out a soft groan as you took advantage of his proximity to palm the bulge in his pants. You wanted a taste.

His shirt now discarded, you worked at the button of Javier's jeans, placing a soft kiss on his stomach as you tugged them down. No underwear, why weren't you surprised? Javier's fingers curled into your hair, taking hold with a gentle yet solid grip as you freed his cock from confinement, precum leaking from the swollen head.

You looked up through your eyelashes, wanting to watch Javier's face as you swiped your tongue across the tip of his length, savoring the taste and earning a strangled moan from Javier's mouth. His eyes sunk shut and the image of you in the diner, licking the grease from your fingers danced behind his eyelids. He realized he was about to have that fantasy fulfilled, about to know exactly what your tongue could do.

The expression on Javier's face and his tightening hands in your hair made your stomach flutter. The absolute control you held over this man was ten times more satisfying than manipulating those men in the bistro because you were enjoying this too. Lightly, you dragged your tongue up his quivering cock, causing Javier to buck his hips and let out a hiss of dissatisfaction.

"Mierda, princesa, you gonna take me or just make me beg for it all night."

"You know I like to tease you, Javi." But the time for teasing was over. With one hand wrapped around him, you took him into your mouth, lowering your head as far as your gag reflex would let you. You began to move slowly, Javier's hands still in your hair and guiding your movements. Your other hand reached up and fondled his balls, pinching and massaging the tender skin. The sensation sent Javier hurtling toward the edge and he began to thrust into your mouth, matching your pace. It was good, too good. He was going to cum soon if you kept going.

Suddenly, Javier pulled away with a grunt, panting your name.

"Fuck, princesa, you're gonna finish me off fast like that." His voice was ragged with hunger. He wanted to taste you again, feel himself inside you as you came. "I'm not done with you yet."

Javier untangled his hands from your hair and placed them tenderly on your shoulders before pushing you back onto the bed again. He grabbed your ankles and hooked them over his shoulders, giving him full access to your cunt which was aching in anticipation of his cock, the size of which you had just fucked with your mouth.

You could feel the heat of him, so close, but Javier took his time, kissing his way down your thighs, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin until your legs shook. And still, he didn't slip inside you, instead caressing the tenderness of your stomach with his mouth. He'd kissed all the way up your body, from the jut of your hip bones to the freckle below your bellybutton to the supple fullness of your breasts. Javier's attentions left you squirming under his touch, but he wasn't done. He wanted to taste every inch of your exposed skin, both salty and sweet under his tongue.

Suddenly, Javier's touch left your body and he flipped you over. You squealed at the abrupt movement, your face in the pillows and hands gripping the sheets. Behind you came the sound of a condom opening. And then you could feel Javier hovering above you, his cock teasing your entrance, one hand on your hip and the other in your hair. And then his voice spoke next to your ear.

"Are you ready, princesa?" Javier asked, his voice heady and ragged.

"Fuck me, Javi." That was all the invitation he needed. Without a moment's hesitation, Javier lined himself up with your entrance and slammed into you. Your gasp of surprise, and all the screams that followed, dissipated into the pillows, muting the sounds that you knew would have been heard by the neighbors otherwise.

Javier crashed into you again, stretching and filling you more with each thrust. He started slow, savoring the feeling of your walls clenching around him. The hand in your hair pulled your head back, releasing the sounds trapped in the pillow to mingle with Javier's moans. The hand at your waist wrapped around to find your clit, his calloused fingers teasing the delicate bud, and Javier leaned over to run his tongue up your spine, chasing the shivers he was causing.

The combination of sensations, his tongue on your skin, fingers on your clit, cock buried deep in your pussy, built you again toward orgasm. You rose up onto all fours, trying to find that angle you knew would hit your g-spot, and Javier seemed to understand. He began to thrust harder and faster, rushing toward the edge he had narrowly avoiding sailing over when his dick had been in your mouth. But this was better, so much better. Javier's untangled his hand from your hair and wrapped his arm around your chest, lifting you so you were on your knees and pressed flush against his back.

This was it, the perfect angle. A tumble of incoherent Spanish curses flew from your mouth as Javier reached up to squeeze your tit in his large hand.

"Fuck, Javi, right there," you mumbled in between breaths. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

"Cum for me, princesa," Javier growled into your ear. "I won't cum until you do."

Javier's tongue flicked along your neck and up toward your ear, where he nibbled lightly. He thrust, deep and strong, into your trembling pussy and you came, in a searing white light of ecstasy. You choked out your sounds of pleasure, unable to breathe properly. As your walls clenched around his cock, your orgasm rushing in waves against him, Javier could hold it no longer. With a groan, he fell apart, grunting your name over and over as his twitching member spasmed inside you.

The two of you held still for a moment, unwilling and unable to move. Finally, Javier slipped out of you, leaving you feeling cold and empty. It didn't last long, however. Javier laid on the bed and pulled you down with him, holding you close to his chest. You curled against him, relishing in the warmth of his skin against the cool breeze drifting in through the open window.

"I have to admit, this isn't how I thought my night would end," Javier said. You giggled, still high on the euphoria of your second orgasm. The dopamine that clouded your brain began to clear and you looked into Javier's face, the tension and worry absent and replaced with a languid look of satisfaction and pleasure.

And then you realized something that made you sit straight up in bed. "You bastard," you said accusingly, pointing a finger at Javier's chest. He dragged a hand across his face.

"Oh mierda, what did I do now?"

"You never even kissed me."

It was true. He hadn't. He'd been so preoccupied with tasting the rest of you he'd failed to do the one thing he actually desired most.

"Alright, that's a valid accusation," Javier said, dragging you back down and rolling on top of you, pinning you to the bed. "I am a bastard, a lucky one."

Finally, with one hand on your face and the other lacing his fingers in yours, Javier kissed you. A real, proper kiss, teeth scraping your bottom lip and tongue gliding along yours. He kissed you until he could hold his breath no longer and then came back for more, tasting of your orgasm and the shared cigarette. At last, he pulled away and buried his face in your neck.

You pulled the covers up and over the two of you. And then you wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding him to your chest as tightly as you could.

"Have any plans for tomorrow?" you asked.

Javier grinned into your shoulder. "Ready for round two already?"

"Only if we get to sleep in first."

"Anything for you, princesa."

#narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier pena #pedro pascal #"javi smut #javier pena x reader #I just want to dance with Javi is that too much to ask #reader #xreader

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magicman111 · 3 years

Text

A Moth to a Flame - Chapter Two

One month later

Sasha joylessly toyed with the Music Box, opening its lid like a yawning mouth.

Who’d have thunk it? She wondered to herself. This tacky little thing could cause so much calamity?

How ludicrously out of place she looked curled up on King Andrias’ enormous throne, almost like the little girl playing pretend in the driver’s seat of her parents’ car. You’d be forgiven for not knowing she’d just led the swiftest, easiest toppling of a government in this world’s history.

Big blue dummy locked up? Check. The city’s army surrendered? Check. Their toad army less than an hour away? Check. Dimension-skipping Macguffin firmly in their position? Double Check.

Not a bad day’s work for a 13-year-old.

Marcy’s oversized sparrow was tethered to the armrest by his leg. A prize she’d taken for herself so she could cruise around her new kingdom in style. She saw to it he wasn’t under any duress, and the fact he was neck deep in an industrial sized bag of bird feed told her he was plenty comfortable.

Sasha managed a tiny smile as she reached out to run her fingers through the thickness of his coat. She dunked her hand in the bag and offered him an open palm of seeds; he eyed for a moment or two before gingerly pecking at the mound.

Thank Frog no one was around to hear the ‘d’aww’ escape her lips.

Her grandmother was the one she had to thank for her secret admiration of birds. Old lady had been a birdwatcher who ‘treated’ her to regular weekend trips into the forest when she was younger. This was long before her discovery of malls and arcades. Sasha wouldn’t dare admit it to even herself back then, but the ones they spotted together on those dewy spring mornings were beautiful to behold in their natural habitat.

Herons may now be forever ruined for her, but Joe—she thought that was his name—was a mighty impressive specimen. Poor guy somehow found the strength to carry all seven of them to Newtopia, only to nosedive into the moat at the end of the flight.

Definitely had nothing to do with her asking Marcy if she could take the reins in the last stretch. She and Anne were kind enough not to draw attention to it, same as they did the day at summer camp when they discovered her crying into her pillow. They were awesome enough to go along with her story that it was only allergies. She knew she had a true pair of girlfriends that morning.

Thinking about them only soured her mood afresh. She sprinkled the rest of the feed back into the bag and slumped against the backrest, arms petulantly crossed.

Here she was in the crowning moment of her young life and she couldn’t have been more miserable.

Maybe because her friends should have been here to share in this, but no, they had to go and act all noble. What else should she have expected? She always was the only one in the group with the guts. Anne had to be dragged kicking and screaming to ditch school and join her and Marcy in celebrating her birthday. Was it any wonder she had to keep taking control of the situation?

More likely... it was because deep down she knew she didn’t really want this. She certainly believed she did after they dropped that gloryhound newt general down a waterfall and when they successfully rallied the Toad Lords after retrieving Barrel’s Warhammer. Things only started getting complicated when they needed free tickets into Newtopia in the form of her friends.

She hadn’t counted on realising just how much she missed her clumsy, klutzy Marcy. Neither how effectively she and Anne were still able to work together as a team in spite of all the unpleasantness that had transpired between them during their time here, of which there was plenty. The fact that Anne actively encouraged her in taking down that molten toad monster was the rancid cherry atop the sludge sundae. For a while back there, it looked like they might really turn a corner and start afresh. All three of them could have gone home like none of this ever happened. Except by then it was already too late.

What recourse did she have when the Plantars invited them for the world’s most awkward dinner party or when they brought the house down at the Battle of the Bands? Tell Grime and all the toads who’d invested their manpower and futures in her that sorry, she was getting cold feet? There was only one grizzly way that would end both for her and Grime and the best scenario she could imagine involved heads on pikes.

... It didn’t matter anymore. Her friends had picked their path, she’d picked hers. As her mom always said, ‘You make your bed, you lie in it’. Funny how in her short life, she’d heard that line far too many times already.

Once she figured out how the Box worked, she’d send both Anne and Marcy on their merry way and they’d never have to see each other ever again.

Everyone would get what they want.

Good thing then she’d sent her soldiers to ransack Marcy’s room for all her research about Anne’s fateful birthday gift. Girl was a pack rat. She kept notes for every exam and project they were assigned back home. The less said about her laptop jammed with files of anime fanfiction and theories the better.

Plus, it was a good way to try and distract herself.

They came back into the throne room hauling burlap sacks full of parchments and emptied their contents at Sasha’s feet.

Daaang, girl, you've been in the zone.

She scattered them over her lap and the ample free space on the seat. They actually weren’t that hard to follow; colour coordinated with plenty of cutesy kawaii diagrams. Trademark Marbles.

Apparently, it worked a lot like those puzzle boxes Marcy got as gifts from relatives in Hong Kong. All it took was knowing the right sequence of buttons and zip! You can go wherever you want in the cosmos. Just a matter of finding the code for Earth.

‘I’m done listening to you!

I’m done trusting you!’

Sasha scowled, trying to push the thoughts to the back of her mind where they belonged. She shuffled through a couple more pages until she found the one titled in glittery green and blue lettering, ‘HOME’.

Bingo.

‘You’re a horrible person!’

Ignore. Ignore.

Now all she had to do was jot it down on her palm and—

‘AND I AM DONE. BEING. FRIENDS WITH YOU!!’

She stopped. Her shoulders drooped. Then she just threw the page down on the floor and sunk into her seat further than she thought physically possible.

She normally didn’t consider herself that thin skinned a person, but man, that one hurt.

Traces of bitter tears creeped into her eyes.

What am I even doing anymore?

The sound of footsteps on crumpling paper and someone clearing their throat snapped her out of her self-pitying torpor. She fluttered her eyes dry to see Grime standing there awkwardly among the discarded parchments.

The diminutive, one-eyed former Toad Lord was hiding something behind his back. He actually looked pretty embarrassed about it too, which for a battle hardened war vet like Grime was actually kinda adorable in Sasha’s eyes.

“I, uhh, got you something,” he said, whipping out a long rectangular present wrapped in green paper and topped with a luscious red bow. “Had it made especially for this day.”

Now if there was one thing Sasha Waybright couldn’t say no to, it was a gift, especially from a trusted friend. They were the ultimate distraction from the blues and she couldn’t have been sitting upright and tearing into this one any quicker.

“Whaaat? Grimesy, you didn’t!” What she had pulled from the ravaged packaging wielded aloft her head made her gasp. “How’d you know I wanted to duel wield?!”

It was a brand new heron sword. An exquisite green second shortsword that would compliment Ol’ Pink perfectly.

She stared proudly into the smooth steel surface, admiring the craftsmanship. When she noticed the girl staring right back at her, however, her smirk vanished in an instant. The captain of the cheerleaders, the scarred swordswoman, the conqueror of Newtopia, whatever angle she looked at it, she didn’t like what she saw. Unbelievable as it may sound, even the joy of an awesome gift like this was not enough to make everything better.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like it? Oh dang it!” Grime slammed his forehead. “I didn’t get a gift receipt!”

“No no, it’s just...” Sasha weighed the blade against her ungloved palm. Talking about these kinds of things was never easy for her. “What if Anne’s right? What if I am a horrible person?”

Grime popped up like a whack-a-mole behind the armrest. “Who cares what she thinks?” he scoffed. “You and I are in charge now, and we get to do whatever we want!”

“That’s the thing... I’m not sure what I want anymore,” she admitted wearily.

For all his years of training at the finest academies, his brutal combat in the colosseum and tactical expertise earned through a lifetime of military service as his forebears before him, this one had Grime stumped. Needless to say, talking about one’s emotions wasn't exactly encouraged during their upbringing in toad culture, so naturally it wasn’t one of his strong suits. Just one of the many things he and Sasha had in common.

“Huh.”

Still, he was a pretty fast thinker and came up with a fairly good idea on the spot.

“Why don’t you help me redecorate this place?” he suggested, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Take your mind off it. Cuz this right here...” He gestured to the cluttered mess in which she’d surrounded herself. “This is definitely not—I’m sorry, can I help you?!”

Both of them turned their heads when it became impossible to ignore Joe’s cone-shaped beak lightly nipping at Grime’s cheek.

“He probably thinks your warts are seeds.”

“For the love of—I knew he was eyeing me up on the ride here! There! Get lost!” Grime scooped up a fistful of feed and flung it over the marble floor, but the winged beast persisted with pecking his face. “Stop it! MY HEAD IS NOT A FEEDER!!”

It took an exceptional effort of willpower for Sasha not to laugh at the sight of her old man being preyed upon by the family pet.

Wow, she thought. Her old man? Was that how she saw Grimesy now? Seriously?

Perhaps up to a point. Okay, considering the options she had for parental figures back home, it wasn’t exactly the highest bar to pass, but it still meant something. Anything.

Who would have guessed this would be how they’d end up, especially given how they started off with her as his prisoner? Sure, it may have taken her helping him and the whole tower not getting turned into heron feed for her to be upgraded to his lieutenant, but they really had come a long way since then. There was a lot more honor and heart to the cranky old toad than she first thought, back when she wrote him off just as another blowhard with power. Now he genuinely considered her his equal both as a friend and comrade in arms. For Sasha, the feeling was mutual. A first for her.

When all was said and done, who else did she have left besides him and vice versa?

What the heck? Let’s tear this place up.

Untethering Joe, she whistled a tweet-tweet and gave the rope a gentle tug to encourage him to follow on their ‘indoor walkies’.

A cursory surveillance of the throne room told her there was a lot of work to be done. If this toad regime was to last a thousand years, the correct decor was an important first step. Thankfully for them, she knew a thing or two about fashion. For starters, there were way too many soft blues and purples. Rust red from top to bottom! She preferred keeping the stained glass windows, but they’d need entirely new designs. Hers truly would naturally feature in most of them, one showcasing her and Grime caving that narwhal worm’s head in with the Warhammer being an absolute must. The snakes coiling the stone pillars weren’t a bad touch, if just a bit too elegant for the whole ‘proud warrior race’ vibe they were going for, but she could still work with them. Now as for the throne, they were gonna have to replace it with something much more imposing. There was that super violent dragon show she and her parents used to watch that had the huge throne made out of swords. She was sure she had a picture somewhere on her phone to use as a reference.

“I’m sorry, what the heck is this?!”

Sasha could only denounce what they were gawking at as the single biggest affrontement to tasteful decorating known to man or amphibian. Yes, worse than inflatable furniture, carpeted bathrooms, beaded curtains, glass block bathroom windows, ‘live, laugh, love’ quotes on walls, rustic hearts, mason jars and nautical accessories all combined under the same inland roof.

Tapestries had their rightful place in a palace’s interior design, but the one sweeping across a section of wall depicting a gentle hearted Andrias sitting down by a lake, surrounded by flowers and lilypads was nothing short of vomit-inducing. Gathered at his feet and scooped up in his protective arms were his wide-eyed, childlike subjects. Even the fish and a lobster were surfacing to bask in their king’s magnanimity. Here the oversized salamander was truly the loving patriarch of everything the light touched. The mawkish display could only be topped off with a rainbow streaking across the sky.

Grime felt his stomach roile. If he ever needed an example to demonstrate the difference between kitschy and downright tacky, this was it.

“Y-y-y-yikes!” he gagged. “This thing’s gotta go!”

Sasha didn’t need a second invite. Besides, what else was Joe going to use to line his nest?

A joint effort tore the offensive piece from its place and it tumbled to the floor in a heap.

Dead silence fell over the room.

Hidden beneath the tapestry was... a mural. Including such a decoration in a throne room was hardly surprising, yet it was what it contained that shocked both the human and toad, so much so that they had to take a moment to recover.

“Woah,” they gasped at once, before starting to analyse what they saw.

The mural was a chaotic collection of nightmarish images painted on a night blue wall. Wild red flames spewing out hordes of beasts and the wreckage of buildings. Mountains of skulls and bones belonging to frogs, toads and newts alike. A flying... spaceship? A castle? Whatever it was meant to be, it firied a white beam up at what was unmistakably the Music Box. Pink, green and blue lightning bolts crackled out of the Box. Mesmerising orange gemstones or, more terrifyingly, eyes leaped off the wall and burned themselves into their minds. The frightening focal point of this one-way ticket to the school therapist’s office? Rising out of the middle of the inferno was the silhouette of a red-eyed, goliath-sized beast, its claws reaching up covetously towards the Box that hung right above its crowned head.

It may as well have been lifted straight from the tattered dream journal of a madfrog.

Any ideas of redecorating the throne room were long gone. Even the revolution they were spearheading suddenly seemed millions of miles away in the face of what they’d just stumbled upon.

Peering her eyes slightly, Sasha was the first to put a face to the shadowy leviathan, and when she did, she had to swallow her heart back down into her chest.

“Is that the king?” she asked, mystified. “With the music box?”

Sweat ran down the side of Grime’s nonplussed face. “If it is… it’s a really good thing we stopped him.”

Neither of them said it aloud, but both understood the situation at once. All this time they thought they’d been playing flipwart while the king played bog jump. Oh, how wrong they’d been. It was beyond anything that even the Toad Lords discussed. They knew that they had to reconvene with them as soon as the armies had reached the gate.

She took a couple steps closer to reexamine the mural more thoroughly, missed details emerging now that the initial shock began to wear off. Circuit board markings—the same inside her dad’s outdated computer when she foolishly dared Marcy if she could take it apart—worked their way around the images, serving as some type of frame. Odd choice for a world that didn’t even have steam engines yet. She also picked up the three small geometric figures standing atop the Box’s lid. An artist she was not, but they looked pretty human-like in design.

But humans did not exist in Amphibia. The three of them were the first of their kind to ever set foot in this dimension.

Weren’t they?

Alarm bells were ringing louder than ever before. This Andrias guy had been playing Anne and Marcy for his own ends this whole time, all to get his mitts on the Music Box! What did he plan to do with it? Right now, she still couldn’t say, but it was all bad. Outside of a kickin’ rock band, fire and skulls together were never a good thing!

Even Joe’s feathers were puffing up anxiously against her back. Not turning away from the mural, she raised her hand and patted his risen crest.

“I know, big guy. I don’t like it either.”

Grime’s voice rang urgently in her ears, “Lieutenant! Get over here, quick!!”

Sasha had spun on her heels and sprinted down the room to find Grime standing the wreckage of what used to be a display of armour. He’d evidently acted on a hunch while she’d been preoccupied. Judging by his thunderstruck expression, he’d just discovered something far worse.

“What is iooooh boy!”

This new second mural reminded Sasha a lot of Egyptian hieroglyphs. If there was any room for doubt about the technicolor stick guys, there was none here. Standing tall against an indigo backdrop in a neat row were the outlines of human beings; long gangly appendages, stumpy noses and everything. Some were wearing hooded capes, others were decked out in suits of armour. The couple in the middle looked particularly regal. No prizes for guessing the little wooden box they were holding in their hands, cementing their authority as if it were the globus cruciger.

Faded inscriptions were engraved along the bottom. They were written in a more archaic amphibian dialect, but being a toad of higher education, Grime was able to give translating them a decent shot.

These great beings of magic and might

Travelled from beyond to serve the night

Bow before these children of man

Or know the wrath of the—

“... Wu Clan?” He cocked his one good eye up at her. “Iiiii’m not getting it.”

There it was. Floodlights flashed in Sasha’s head. All colour drained from her face. A million and one thoughts were now firing across her brain at once, threatening to send her into cerebral shutdown.

It was at that moment she knew she’d been played. They all had. She didn’t know whether to be absolutely furious, betrayed or impressed.

Why that conniving, devious little—

That's when they heard the BOOM outside the window.

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ladynestaarcheron · 3 years

Text

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Six

ao3 - masterpost

Hey, babes! Here are our canon fixes for the week:

1. When Nesta was six, she met with a man who declared more or less immediately that she would forever be hopeless at playing an instrument or singing, but that she had a good ear for music. Bull.

2. Nesta is apparently so desperate for a friend that she gives the House life, but never really hangs out with the priestesses. Um. Okay? Sounds fake, but okay.

3. Both Gwyn and Emerie have never left their homes in Sangravah and Illyria, respectively, except for when the IC brings them to the library. Not exactly a fix, but something we will start to explore.

Enjoy!

---

Since Nesta's accomplished virtually nothing in her life, she expects her ideas of "new things" to try to be easy to come up with. But after an hour of brainstorming in bed that Thursday evening, she only has two things scribbled in the notebook Thalia gave her: Wear yellow and Learn to play the trumpet.

"Don't suppose you have a trumpet in here?" Nesta says to the House.

The House only pulls the curtains shut in answer.

"Bedtime," she agrees, shutting the notebook and placing it on her bedside table. "I think this one-per-day rule is a bit much, don't you? Especially considering these self-defense lessons. Do you think other girls will come?" Nesta doesn't always wait for an answer when talking to the House. It tends to interject as it pleases, generally by opening doors or magicking a cup of tea in front of her. "I think that Emerie girl would like to. From Illyria, I told you about her...oh, thank you," she adds, for the House has placed the novel Nesta started last night by her pillow. "Shall I read aloud, then?"

She does, until she falls asleep.

The next morning, she draws looks from the hood-less girls and slight double-takes from the veiled priestesses; no doubt courtesy of the bright yellow dress the House had pulled out of her wardrobe this morning. She ignores them, not stopping until she reaches Clotho's office. When she knocks, Thalia's voice calls for her to enter.

"Well!" Thalia says, smiling.

"I'm never wearing this color again. It washes me out." Ruins the detox and more regulated eating she's had this past month.

"I think you look lovely," she insists, and Clotho nods. "But that's certainly your prerogative. Is that the worst consequence?"

"Yes, yes," Nesta says impatiently, waving a hand. "It won't kill me to try new things. Lesson learned."

Thalia looks over at Clotho. Perhaps she can tell what the priestess looks like under her hood, or perhaps she talks to her mind-to-mind like Feyre and Rhysand do, but Nesta almost thinks they exchange a glance of some sort. Amused, perhaps?

"Can either of us help you with anything, Nesta?" Thalia asks pleasantly, and gestures for her to sit down.

"Maybe," Nesta says taking a seat. Her cheeks color slightly as she does; why is she bashful about this all of a sudden? Around Thalia and Clotho? "I...well, I've started some self-defense, you know."

"We know." They both did, had both asked her how it was going. "You're still enjoying it, aren't you?"

"I...I am-it's good for me." Enjoy is a strong word.

"You said it helps keep you focused," Thalia says. "Centered."

"Yes. It...makes me feel good." She doesn't normally struggle with her words so much, does she? Does she sound like an idiot to the two of them, or just to her own ears? No, Clotho and Thalia would never say that about her. Never even think it. It's only her who's like this, trapped in her own wretched mind, slave to something dark and horrible and become just as vile-

But no, that isn't true. It's not just her who feels that way. And that's why she's here.

"It makes me feel more in control," Nesta says finally. "Of my life and my body."

Thalia leans back, satisfied. Clotho doesn't move. Nesta wonders if they know, if they can guess at what just went on in her mind. Either way, they both wait for her to continue.

"And I thought," she says, pausing to draw breath, "that maybe some other girls might be interested. With...Cassian."

At this, Clotho does cock her head.

"We meet in the mornings. Not on Tuesdays and not over the weekend," she adds, just so they aren't sitting in silence.

After a few moments that feel ridiculously long, Thalia says, "I think that's a wonderful idea, Nesta."

For a brief, strange moment, something happens. Nesta breathes in as Thalia finishes her sentence-not in relief or any emotion in particular, just to breathe-and as she does so, something inside of her shifts. Un-constricts.

But it's gone just as soon as it arrives, and before Nesta has time to dwell upon it, one of Clotho's notes appears. For a select group of girls, perhaps.

"Yes, I think we have the same few in mind...Of course, Nesta, you're welcome to share this with all of the students, but just between Clotho and myself, I think we'll privately encourage four or five...yes, thank you for bringing this up to us, Nesta," Thalia says, finishing with another warm smile.

Don't go just yet, Nesta, please, Clotho writes as Thalia takes her leave. I wanted to ask you how you were doing.

"I'm well. Thank you."

I'm glad to hear these self-defense lessons have something to do with that...our own lectures and exercises too, I hope?

Nesta raises her head slightly as her cheeks tinge pink. "I-yes. I think so." Clotho waits, unmoving, until Nesta sighs and says, "I do like the lectures."

Wonderful. Which ones?

Nesta answers honestly, "All of them." It's...it's quite something, to learn things. Things she never knew, never imagined, from females who are so passionate about them. "And...I like the jewelery. I like working with my hands."

I'm so very happy to hear you're finding yourself here, Nesta, Clotho's pen writes out. Have you given any thought to a more permanent assignment?

"I...thought you were supposed to."

With your input, of course. We would never want you to do something you were uncomfortable with.

But Gwyn's not comfortable with Merrill, is she? "I don't know. There's not really anything wrong with any of the priestesses, I suppose." It's only when Clotho begins lightly shaking with amusement that Nesta realizes she probably shouldn't have said that. "That is...I like them." She does. Enough.

Well, I'm happy to hear that, too.

Nesta rises, rather abrupt. "I've got to sort books," she says, and doesn't wait for a proper goodbye before leaving.

---

The amount Nesta has improved after only a few short weeks of being in the library floors Cassian. Her weight gain, voluntarily asking him for self-defense lessons, her performance in said lessons, and she still manages to find time to ask if other girls can join. Not even touching upon the fact that she's said she doesn't feel so dependent on alcohol anymore.

It shows incredible strength of character, and it makes Cassian's heart swell so much that he almost doesn't care when he meets an unfamiliar, tipsy young male he realizes must be one of the rebels in Windhaven, glaring at him.

Almost.

"What are you doing outside of your camp, boy?" Boy, he says, because he is one. He's not yet participated in the Rite.

"Visiting family," the boy slurs. "Sir," he adds, mocking.

"Go home," he orders, trying to imitate Nesta when she's at her coldest.

Perhaps it works, because the boy blanches before sneering and turning away.

He has to tell Rhys they're getting more brazen. Normally Cassian wouldn't care at all what any of them say to him-or at least, say he doesn't care-but if these pricks are bringing Nesta into it, all bets are off. He's going to follow up on whoever that was and make sure he doesn't come back to this camp until this situation is under control. Until the threat on the throne, on Nesta's life, is vanquished.

Shaking himself, he pushes into Emerie's shop. "Good morning."

She looks up. "You're back. Hello," she adds.

He gives her a smile. "Who was that?"

Emerie does not return his expression. "My baby cousin, Bellius," she says, bitter. "But never mind him." Just like that, Emerie phases out of her ire and into a cool, detached expression. Just like Nesta, he thinks. Perhaps that was why they liked each other-if they liked each other. "What can I help you with?"

"Perhaps you can help me," he says. "Nesta-Lady Nesta-you met here a few weeks ago?"

"Yes," she says, careful. "I remember."

"Well," he says, unsure of how to introduce the subject. "She's...started taking some self-defense lessons. For exercise. With me."

Emerie looks unconvinced. "For exercise?"

"And she thought you might be interested in joining. And that you have some friends who might be interested, too."

Emerie's face doesn't betray anything. She studies him, and it's been about ten seconds before she says, "Did she?"

"Yes," he says, feeling only slightly like perhaps the two of them training together might not be good for him.

"Hm," she says. After another minute of her own quiet deliberation, she says, slowly, "I will attend one of these lessons...and then I will...consult with my friends."

"All right," Cassian says, thankful that it's over. "Someone will be along to pick you up Monday morning."

He doesn't dawdle too long in saying goodbye. He has a lot to cover before Monday-figure out the best way to introduce self-defense to very traumatized, potentially, females, and now he'll have Emerie, and Nesta. What kind of dynamic will that create?

But he's been a soldier his whole life. Surely he can handle a few young females.

Hopefully.

---

Nesta has taken to carrying around her notebook wherever she goes, just in case she gets an idea of some new thing she can try. A girl named Deridre approaches her and asks her what self-defense is like, and if it's at all like the meditative yoga they do with the priestess Agata, so she writes that down. She goes to one of Daphne's lectures for the first time and learns about resuscitation and scrawls the name of a method to stop choking that seems simple enough to learn. Gwyn sees her writing and says, "You know, your finger nails are shaped so nicely. How come you never paint them?" so she adds that to her list, too.

She finds, actually, that it's quite nice to carry the book around. It's nice to have an excuse to write with such a fine pen. It's been years since she has.

Her sisters visit her over the weekend at her invitation and they are thrilled by her new things.

"I could teach you to paint," Feyre suggests.

Nesta wants to reply that the idea is to attempt things that do not make her want to pitch herself off the veranda, but instead she says, "You already tried that."

"Right," she says, deflating.

"But," she says, oddly disturbed by this response, and grasping for something to say, "maybe we can...sculpt. Or something. One day."

Feyre brightens at this. "Whenever you have time," she says, happily.

"How's self-defense going, Nesta?" Elain asks, would-be casual.

Nesta rolls her eyes. "You've heard we're inviting other girls?"

"Oh, Nesta, I just think it's such a grand idea-"

"Everyone's really excited about it, honestly, they've been trying for something like this for so long-"

"And with the Illyrian girls, Cassian said-"

"We know it's not exactly a unit, but still so impressive-"

"And we hear you're doing really well!"

"Yes! Really well! Maybe I could join you one day, too," Feyre says, hopeful.

"I'd watch. Or, or maybe even try some!"

Nesta takes a sip of water. She forgets how much noise these two make, honestly. "I don't think it's as exciting as you've imagined," she says. "Sure, you can come one day. Maybe not while the other girls...I'm a bit nervous," she confesses, suddenly. "Clotho and Thalia wouldn't let if they thought it was a bad idea, but I don't know..." She looks out onto the rainy city. The House keeps the interior warm for her, but sometimes she thinks she can still feel the cold in her bones anyway. "I mean, I'm the only one who ever leaves the library, and it could go really wrong. Obviously, no one's going to force herself to do this, and they can just no, but-uh," she finishes on a stammer, as she turns back to look at her sisters.

For there are shining silver tears in Elain's eyes, and Feyre's face looks cracked.

What has she said? What horrible thing has she done?

"No, no," Feyre says hurriedly, reading her expression.

"Sorry, Nesta," Elain says, bringing her hands to wipe her eyes. "It's just...it's just so nice to see you like this...about something."

"Oh," Nesta says, eventually.

Her sisters leave in the evening, but the likeness of their faces in her mind do not. Their expressions, their...love.

Is she really so different now, she wonders all weekend. Is she so much better? She doesn't feel particularly much of anything.

If this is better, then what had she been before?

Monday morning rolls around quickly, and she is decked in the uniform the House has supplied her and finished with a light breakfast, waiting at the arena on the roof before the sun has even fully risen.

"Nervous too?" Cassian says from behind her as he neatly lands in.

"I suppose," she says, not turning around.

"How long have you been here?"

"Fifteen minutes."

He chuckles. "Maybe more nervous than I am. Well...shall we begin?"

"No one's here yet."

"So? We can start just the two of us." He shrugs out of his jacket. "Would put us at ease, at least, don't you think?"

Us, he says. Like they are the same. They get nervous by the same things and the same things calm them down and they do it all together.

"Yes," she says, clearly needing it.

The movements come easier than on Thursday. Each time she gets better, and it is, she will admit, a rare sort of feeling. To know that she is improving at something. To feel it in her blood and bones.

Cassian's instructions leave no room for worrying in her mind. When she slips out of his holds, breaks out of his grip, all she can think of are his body and hers, anticipation of his next move and victory when she gets it right, or disgruntlement when she is wrong. They move through the steps in sync, almost like the ballet she used to study, and she is so consumed with it that she does not notice until they are done that they have an audience.

Not a particularly big one. Gwyn, Deirdre, and Azriel has brought Emerie, but an audience nonetheless.

"All right," Cassian says. "So what Nesta and I just did is called the Grunge Hook." He launches through into an explanation of what it means and Nesta blinks as she realizes he must have known they all had arrived. Seen them, heard them.

Her cheeks go cold. She can never notice anything else when he's there. Certainly not as they were; touching, talking...

"So Emerie and Nesta, and, ah, Miss..."

"Gwyn," Gwyn says at the same time Deirdre says, "Deirdre."

"Right," Cassian says. "Well, you two pair up."

Emerie walks over to Nesta and they are ready faster than the other two. Nesta tenses. They have not yet been outside-perhaps this was a mistake-what will Gwyn think of her now? She won't sit next to her for lectures anymore, won't come help her put books away-

But it is only a moment, and then Gwyn turns to Cassian and says, "I guess we should have dressed differently."

"You can wear whatever you're comfortable with," he says. "And you don't have to do anything you don't want to, either."

So Deirdre keeps her hood secured on, but Gwyn shrugs her robe off entirely to reveal simple, like-colored dress. Perhaps she'd like leggings and a skirt like Nesta's, she thinks. If she decides to continue...if other girls decide to join...

Emerie's, surprisingly, not as good at the movements as Nesta is. Surprisingly because Nesta doesn't really think of herself as good at this, just better than before, and because, well, Emerie's Illyrian, and all the Illyrians Nesta knows...

"It's your wings," Azriel says, approaching. "They throw you off balance."

She droops. "So I can't. Because I'm clipped."

Nesta flinches-it's such an ugly word. But what to say?

Azriel answers before she can, his shadows clearing from his face. "Of course not," he says, patient. "Just hold yourself this way," and he shows her how to maneuver her wings.

Emerie seems as though her emotions sway easier than Nesta's, as she appears cheered up by this. "Let's try again," she says to Nesta.

And they do, but it is not like before, with Cassian. It is not as in sync, and she is not as focused. Over on the other side, under Cassian's watch, Gwyn and Deirdre are doing even worse.

When the hour is done, Deirdre hurries back down faster than she has moved throughout the whole lesson, and Gwyn shoots Nesta a small smile, and nods her head once at Azriel, before saying, "Good to see you again," and leaving. Emerie says, "Thanks for thinking of me," and perhaps sounds a bit more genuine, but she turns to ask Azriel to take her back right after, and then she is gone too.

"Brilliant," Nesta says aloud, miserable.

Cassian looks over at her, surprised. "What?"

"Are you kidding me? That was horrible."

Cassian laughs. "Are you kidding me? That was great!"

"Enough," she snaps, skin burning. "I don't need-"

"Woah," he says, raising his hands. "Woah. Seriously, Nesta, what's wrong?"

She clenches her hands into fists. "Stop mocking me."

"I'm not!" he protests, and his stupid eyes are wide and innocent and his stupid voice is confused and concerned when he says, "Come on, why are you upset?" so she has no choice but to answer.

"They hated it and they were bad."

Cassian laughs again. A real laugh this time, with his head tilting back, and the sound echoing in the mountains. Her heart lurches. She ignores it.

"They did not hate it," he says, eyes twinkling. "And they were not bad. They're novices. Not everyone's a born natural like you, with a perfectly paired partner in me," he teases, winking, almost as though good-natured.

"They couldn't get away fast enough." Deirdre didn't even take off her hood. So much for helping other females.

Cassian's grin falters. Shit. Had she said that out loud?

He moves closer to her. "Do you know how many clipped Illyrian females have agreed to come to anything remotely similar to this?"

"You know I don't," she snaps, but he doesn't rise to her bait.

"None," he says, calm. "Emerie is the first. Do you know how long Deirdre's been in here?"

"No," she says. Longer than Gwyn, but not more than that.

"Since before Amarantha took over."

Nesta winces. Over fifty years, at least, then.

"And she came...you convinced her to come."

"I didn't," she says. "Thalia-"

"She told me," he interrupts. "She told me you told her what it was like and she wanted to try it."

Nesta stills at this. "Well...what does it matter if she just tries it once?"

He laughs-again! Why does he laugh so often? "Aren't you doing that? Trying things once? Oh, no, I don't mean it in a bad way, Nes, don't look like that. I'm just saying...okay. So it's not for everyone. Maybe she tries it once and never does it again. But it's still worth a whole fucking lot that she tried. And that's because of you. And how do you know she's not going to try again, anyway? Because she left when the hour was up?"

Nesta reddens slightly.

"Fuck," he says, and this time it doesn't amuse her, his easy swearing. "I-shit. Nesta. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings."

She startles. "I-what?"

"I just mean..." He runs his fingers through his hair. "Look. You did a good thing. Whether or not they continue, you did a good thing. And I think they will, for the record. Emerie might not want to come every day, you know, she might not have time...but I think Gwyn liked it enough."

Nesta feels something inside of her flutter. "She did?"

Cassian nods. "Definitely." He looks at her for another moment, then shakes his head.

"What?" she asks, dreading the answer.

"Nothing," he says. "I just don't understand how you can't possibly be so proud of yourself. Especially today." He shrugs slightly, completely oblivious to what is happening inside of her. That feeling from Clotho's office. What is that?

But it is gone as soon as it arrives, just like last time. He says, "See you tomorrow, Nesta," and leaves. And then she does too.

---

Cassian, Nesta learns over the course of the next few weeks, is right.

Not about her, obviously. But about the females still being interested.

Gwyn's excited about it. "I didn't realize you were so good," she gushes.

Nesta huffs in amusement. "Hardly."

"Well, better than the rest of us!"

"Just a bit more practice," she says. And there is something about the lessons with Cassian...though they don't do as much together, though, anymore. Not with the others there now. She almost wishes that she had not invited everyone for each of the lessons...maybe one morning with him just to herself.

But that's-that's just absurd. He's hardly hers.

Deirdre finds her that Monday, too, and thanks her for convincing her to go. Nesta privately wonders what on earth it was she had said that worked, because the conversation barely stands out in her mind, but she tells Deirdre she's glad to hear she enjoyed it, anyway.

"I think Roslin and Ananke would like it too," she says. "Thalia told them it would be good for them, but they were too nervous. I'll try and convince them...I didn't realize how much fun it would be," she adds with a gentle laugh.

Fun?

"Oh," Nesta says. "Oh...well, good. I mean, good to hear. I hope they...join too."

And Cassian is right about Emerie as well. She does not come on Tuesday, but she does on Wednesday, and tells Nesta she thinks she can keep coming twice a week.

"And your friends?" she asks.

"They're interested," she tells her. "But I think I have to work a little harder at convincing them."

Nesta nods, not wanting to ask what they might have stopping them from coming. Whatever happened to Emerie's wings-whoever had clipped her-perhaps those females have someone like that in their lives.

It is on the second Wednesday that Emerie arrives that Nesta asks her if she'd like to stay a while longer. She'd already asked Azriel the day before if he could possibly take her back after lunch, and he'd agreed.

There was something odd about talking to Azriel, she noticed. Something about those shadows. Something about the way they-looked?-at her. Something...

But Emerie agrees, if a bit shyly, and she asks Gwyn if she'd like to take lunch with the two of them instead of in the priestesses' dining hall, and Nesta has her new thing for the day: hosting people for a meal.

They ogle everything openly, jaws dropping as the House pulls out chairs for them and food appears as Nesta requests it.

"Thank you," she says.

"You're...talking to the House?" Gwyn asks.

"Yes."

"Oh. Thank you," she adds.

"Thank you," Emerie says quickly.

The House likes them too. Nesta can tell. There's a bit more effort being made here today, she thinks, as she notes a fancy bouquet in the middle of the table and finer china than she normally uses. Nesta smiles to herself.

Nesta searches for something she can say, a safe topic that has nothing to do with self-defense, but Gwyn beats her to it. "So, how do you two know each other?" she asks.

"Nesta came to Illyria to scare some rebels who are trying to kill her," Emerie answers casually.

Gwyn jerks her head towards Nesta. "Really?"

"Not quite how I would have phrased it," Nesta says. "But true enough, I suppose."

"Why are they trying to kill you?" Gwyn says, eyes wide.

Wonderful. What a fantastic luncheon this is.

"They don't like me very much."

"They're scared of her," Emerie says. "And they want to overthrow the High Lord and High Lady." She turns to Nesta. "What do you think of that?"

Nesta raises an eyebrow as she cuts into her food. "Of killing my sister and Rhysand? Well, I've certainly thought of it myself, at times."

They both laugh. Nesta blinks. Then she smiles slightly.

"I have to assume I'm against them," she says. "But to be honest, I don't really understand any of the politics here. I'm...not very well-informed."

"Oh, neither am I," Gwyn says, shaking her head. "It's terrible. I mean, I've lived in this court all my life, and I'm so pitifully ignorant. It's ridiculous. I don't know the first thing about Illyria, like. Or even Velaris, really. And I have no excuse. I live in a library, for gods' sakes."

"I don't know of any books I'd recommend for you to learn about Illyria," Emerie says, thoughtful. "Not unless you read Illyrian, that is."

"See, I didn't even know there was an Illyrian until you just said that. Pathetic."

"Can you recommend other books?" Nesta says, latching on the chance to steer the conversation away from the history of the Night Court and into perhaps the only topic she might be able to contribute to.

"Oh, of course," Emerie says, pausing to swallow. "What do you like?"

"Romance," Nesta says, as Gwyn says, "Adventure."

"Ooh, The Knight Society. That's both. You can read that together."

Gwyn grins at Nesta. "Book club," she says. "What's it about?"

Emerie launches into a description of the book-the series, actually-and eventually, Nesta finds herself not looking for things to say, but rather just...talking. Not forced. Not desperate. Just a part of the conversation. Easy, flowing...fun, almost.

Funny, at least. Emerie is clutching her sides laughing as she describes the worst romance novel she ever read and Gwyn giggles, her hands covering her mouth, but Nesta says thoughtfully, "That's not such a horrible idea, though."

"You think-"

"No, no, the premise is atrocious, yes," she says. "But that exact scene...that has potential."

"Potential, right," Emerie says, laughing still.

"No, I mean it," she says, but she lets it go, lets the conversation drift naturally.

She is disappointed when Azriel comes to take Emerie back, but picked up by the fact that they all are. Emerie promises to make time to stay for lunch again, either Monday or Wednesday of next week.

"This was so lovely," Gwyn says to her, wistful, as they walk down to the library together. "So much nicer than in the dining hall.

"Really?" Nesta says before she can stop herself. "Well...I eat lunch every day. You can join...if you'd like."

Gwyn brightens. "I would!"

So after two weeks of lessons with other girls (Roslin and Ananke have joined, and Lorelei and Ilana, too, though the later doesn't participate so much as watch), and more random assignments from Clotho, and new things for Thalia, Nesta finally finds herself with a few hours of quiet after Friday evening's lecture has been canceled.

"Shall we read?" she says to the House.

Lights flicker in answer. Too many for the usual yes or no. This means Nesta has to follow.

"All right," she says, standing. "To the veranda?" she asks. But it's too cold out, so she hopes not.

Instead, the House leads her to a room she hasn't been in since her first stay, upon first exploration. She has had no need.

"Oh," she says at the door, softly.

The knob turns slightly, not fully opening. The House giving her the final decision.

But she doesn't want to hurt its feelings, so she opens the door.

The music room-a conservatory, it can be called-just by the sheer size of it-is grander than she remembers. She had opened the door and not even stepped inside, that first time. Just stood there, frozen, before snapping the door shut and hurrying away.

She takes a slow step in, but almost as though she is being walked by some other being, she takes another, and then another, and before she knows it, she is seated at the piano.

Ballroom grand. Enormous. Sleek and glossy and it would sound just perfect, she knows.

Lights flicker from behind. She turns and lets out a little laugh.

"Thanks," she says, shaking her head at the spotlight, "but I don't think I'm going to be learning the trumpet this evening."

The lights stop, as if the House is acquiescing.

The lights above her now flicker briefly. So will you play the piano, then?

Nesta inhales and exhales deeply. Slowly. Again. And again. The same way Cassian has her do after lessons.

There's really...there's really nothing stopping her. There's no reason not to. If she were to pick up her notebook and write down the reasons why she can't play right now, there wouldn't be any.

So why can't she do it?

She doesn't have an answer. So with another deep breath, Nesta closes her eyes and gently presses her thumb to middle C.

The sound is soft, and then that feeling, from with Thalia and Clotho, and Cassian, hits her again. But as she hits the second note, it does not fade away. It stays this time. So she plays.

#nessian #nessian fic #acosf fic #acotar fic #nesta archeron #whatever the hell am i supposed to tag this asssssss????????#anyway. i'm thrilled to be sharing this!!#cannot WAIT for next chapter also #because nesta had to go on a journey to get to her journey #because she was in such a bad place!!#but here she's like...she's been getting better but not good #and now she can start getting good you know??#so exciting #hope y'all enjoy<3 #oh and btw i don't about you but i'm turning 22 next friday when i post chapter seven #so in case you were looking for a sign to share what you think...this is it #😌#lol #but kind of for real

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dirty-holy-things · 3 years

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The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 16 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr. Catch up on chapters 1-15 on Ao3.

Notes: 18+, explicit!!!! This chapter is the ‘burn’ of the slow burn we’ve been developing for 15 chapters. We’re finally there, for those of you who have been long-time readers. Please note, I’ve never written this much smut before. It’s A LOT, and I mean a lot of this chapter. M & F, oral receiving and penetration. Unprotected sex for the sake of storytelling, but please wrap it before you tap it IRL. Praise kink, because Din and Reader need validation. Some fun and adventurous positioning and activities. Also, very romantic ending.

Words: 9.1k update, 75.7k total.

If you would like to be added to my taglist, please fill out this form!

Having stepped into the dimly-lit club, your eyes took a moment to adjust and take in the scene around you. Low-slung leather chairs and booths were scattered throughout the dark room, their occupants being some of the more fearful individuals in the galaxy. These cruel and cunning men, however, were in varying states of disarray due to the large amounts of alcohol and spice that were brazenly displayed on the tables they were seated at. In addition to the smoke-stained booths, there were several raised platforms that held women who were twisting themselves around metallic poles, their bodies scantily clad as they danced sensually for the crowd of drunken onlookers.

And that was where you would find yourself shortly after being allowed into the club.

They had assumed you were one of the dancers.

A large, burly man grabbed you by the arm and you instinctively threw your elbow back into his gut at the sudden intrusion of your personal space, your arm connecting with a solid expanse of hard muscle. “C’mon, babydoll, don’t be so sensitive,” the man grumbled, hauling you towards the unoccupied pedestal. “Do your fucking job and don’t bitch about it.” He tossed you forward into the velvet-covered platform, and as you caught yourself on your hands, you understood that you had about three seconds to decide what you were going to do next.

Do you confront the man about the mistaken identity, and risk causing a scene? Risk losing the bounty, or possibly getting yourself hurt once they realize you’re not meant to be here?

Or do you get up there and find a way to make this unexpected plot change work for you?

Credit due to @knivesareout for the perfect moldboard and for her undying love for me and my fic.

Also tagging @soyelfuegoquearde for beta’ing my project and giving me all of the constructive criticism and positive feedback that has helped me grow as an author.

And my love @emmikmil / @bdavishiddlesbatch for her never-ending love and enthusiasm for Din and Reader.

I love you all so very much.

Chapter 16 - Read More

The things that you had heard in passing about Corellia were too kind in their assessment, and they had been harsh to start. There was a filmy scum that lingered in the air and clung to clothing, surfaces, even to the air in your lungs. The industrial planet was bleak and grim, and you were almost beginning to regret your offer to assist Din with this bounty; would it have really been so bad to hunker down here in the ship, sleep for a while, maybe even pick up a book in town to keep you entertained? However, you also knew that if you had to spend an undetermined amount of time cooped up in the ship, without Din, trying to manage the kid on your own, no view except that of a dirty industrial cityscape, being constantly terrified that Din could get hurt again — you would probably lose your mind. So you decided to step out into the grisly world of Corellia, Din at your side.

The towers of steel and metal that warped up towards the sky were certainly a departure from the organic beauty of Bardotta that you had grown accustomed to during the last job. You tried to find something appealing in the architecture, your eyes scanning the horizon, and came to the conclusion that there was certainly... dedication and precision in the construction, and that was something that you could appreciate. You needed to find something agreeable within it all.

The kid was sleeping in his cradle, the wampa having been tucked under his short green arm, left to rest in the ship during the course of what was predicted to be a short job. Din navigated the two of you through the dirty, narrow streets of the city and away from the shipyard. He didn’t seem to notice or mind the filth too much, as he stomped onwards through puddles, mud, trash, splashing it onto his clothing and armor — and being a bit more hygienically minded, you took the extra effort to keep yourself clean as you sidestepped what could reasonably be avoided. It was unnecessary self-preservation as the cleanliness of your boots probably didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things, but it was just in your nature.

Din was leading you both to a well-concealed speakeasy, known for hosting an intriguing assortment of characters that preferred to avoid the prying eyes of the galaxy, and partake in... questionable activities. Din had made contact with an acquaintance who was able to provide you with instructions for how to enter into the underground club, including the password that was changed frequently specifically to avoid situations like yours. It was mean to be a safe haven for the rich and powerful; there would be drinking, music, smoking, gambling, bloodshed, prostitution, drugs, fighting, and that was on a quiet night. Gods only knew what else the oncoming evening could hold. You weren’t particularly worried, however, knowing that the towering bounty hunter that stalked along in front of you would keep you safe if worst came to worst. And you didn’t have any significant worries about this job, the nature of it being simple and familiar.

The setup of this job was similar to the one you had helped with back on Canto Bight; you’d flirt with the target, have a drink, bat your eyelashes, and draw him away from the crowd with a thinly veiled proposition. It wasn’t rocket science, luring a man; there were quite a lot of things in life that were harder, like navigating a ship or even firing a blaster. And yet Din seemed incredibly nervous and stressed on your behalf, holding enough worry for the two of you. While you had grown used to periods of silence from him, this one felt different. This one had an undercurrent of tension that rolled off of him in waves, so thick you could almost see it — or maybe that was just Corellia, and you were reading too much into this.

The sun was beginning to set along the horizon, reflecting beams of orange and crimson and gold throughout the city’s structure; you remembered how Din had shared with you that his favorite color was orange, and you wondered if he was finding some sort of beauty in this moment as well, or if he had even noticed. He hadn’t said anything to you for quite some time now, having navigated you from the outskirts of the city and its shipyard, to the bustling urban center that housed a variety of species and droids that were frankly quite rude. You had been bumped into on more than one occasion without so much as an ‘excuse me.’ You figured you had just grown used to the niceties that were afforded on a planet like Chandrila, and reminded yourself that you had chosen to leave that place in favor of travel — which would include a change in attitudes and social customs. You still made a point to apologize to those you collided with though.

Having seen the industriousness of the capitol city here on Corellia, you were increasingly intrigued by what this speakeasy experience would be like. Din had informed you that it was a popular spot for those working with Crimson Dawn, the Hutts, the Pyke Syndicate — violent, ruthless individuals. The target for this evening was a Twi’lek who had been working for the Hutts, who had ‘mysteriously’ disappeared with a large shipment of spice; it was suspected that he had run off with it for himself, feeling brave enough to try and hide. It was a stupid choice, even you knew that — while Orron had never tell you much about the spice dealings, you still knew that double crossing the Hutts was borderline suicidal. The sheer confidence and conceit of such a bold move was intriguing, that couldn’t be denied; but hiding from the Hutts was nearly impossible, and his bold stupidity would be catching up with him today.

You had worked to prepare yourself adequately for the evening, having brought along a pack of supplies that would transform you into an appealing bait prior to your arrival. You had correctly assumed that dressing for a party before trekking through the city would be a poor decision, and you applauded yourself for your foresight, seeing the grim state that your clothing was now in. The sun was descending lower into the skyline and you knew that you were getting close to the destination, based on the projected timeline for the job.

Picking up the pace so you were now walking in stride with Din, you tilted your head in the direction of a small shop that would likely afford you some space in a fresher to change and finish preparing. He nodded silently in agreement and you disappeared inside, finding a young boy with mousy blonde hair sleeping behind the counter. He was startled awake by your unexpected entrance, and you tossed him some credits to accompany your question about where you would locate a fresher. He pointed to the back of the store wordlessly and you thanked him before disappearing.

You closed the door behind you and locked it securely, before stripping out of the clothes that had accumulated a fair amount of muck in the past hour’s journey. You wriggled your way into a sparkling silver dress that just barely skimmed your thighs, admiring the shimmer of the sheer fabric as it clung to your body. The dress choice had been intentional, the versatility of it appealing; you knew it would sparkle like diamonds when caught by bright lights, and would set off a soft, illuminating glow in low light. Either way, eyes would be drawn to you. You slid on a pair of white boots that propelled yourself a good four inches higher into the air, and added a few pieces of jewelry to round out the look. You pulled your hair out of the buns you had tied it up in, as it now fell around your shoulders in casual waves, and you put on just enough makeup to highlight your features. Assessing that you looked enticing enough, you slid back into your dark grey coat that would hide your glamorous appearance from the city-dwellers until your arrival at the club.

As you stepped out of the shop to rejoin your companion, you readied yourself to say goodbye for the evening, trying to shift your perspective to the job at hand rather than the part of you that was incredibly sad to be parted from Din. Even knowing that the separation was only temporary, you would still be eagerly looking forward to being reunited. Staring up into the visor of the helmet, you stepped closer to him and placed your arms on his hips, wanting to pull him in closely but also understanding that it may not be an appropriate choice as you were out in public. He placed a gloved hand on your shoulder and another on the small of your back, the helmet coming to rest against your forehead.

“Do you have the blaster? And the knife?” He asked, his voice sounding constricted even with the modulator. You were getting better at deciphering that which the modulator tried to hide.

“I’ve got the knife, but the blaster doesn’t really go with this outfit,” you joked, reassuring him that you were protected. “This’ll be easy, I promise.” You whispered, trying to build up his confidence and sense of security. “Just like last time. We can get the job over with quickly, and then go home.”

You heard a soft sigh come through the modulator as he nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll see you soon, Din.”

***

Getting into the club had been ridiculously easy, especially once the guard at the door saw the way that you were dressed. For being so secretive of a club, you were shocked at the ease with which you were able to sneak in; you assumed that they just didn’t worry too much when a beautiful young woman turned up at their door. Din was going to take more of a… back-door route into the club, dispatching the guard who protected the service entrance, and he would find a discreet place to hide and watch out for you and the target. You had kept the knife, and the comm that was connected to his, and you would alert him when you had lured the Twi’lek away from the party and the crowd. Din would then join the two of you, disarm and cuff the target, and then you would go home to the Razor Crest. It was a simple plan, with a hefty payout for an evening of easy work.

... Or so you had thought.

And that was where you would find yourself shortly after being allowed into the club.

They had assumed you were one of the dancers.

Do you confront the man about the mistaken identity, and risk causing a scene? Risk losing the bounty, or possibly getting yourself hurt once they realize you’re not meant to be here?

Or do you get up there and find a way to make this unexpected plot change work for you?

You bit the inside of your lip to the point of bleeding as you quickly came to your decision. You brought yourself up onto the well-worn, blood red platform and into the blisteringly hot stage lights that were turned on you and the other dancers; taking a moment to pretend to bask in the cheers and lewd hollers that followed your entrance, you tried to get a feel for the rhythm of the music that you would now have to dance to.

Fuck, let’s hope they’re high enough to believe this.

Closing your eyes, you sank into the rhythm and melody of the music that the band was playing, and you began to move your body in time with it, trying to put on a show despite never having danced before a day in your life. This would be an awfully convenient time for some Force abilities to show up.

You had no such luck, but the drugged and drunk patrons didn’t seem to mind much; you were there for their amusement and pleasure, to fuel their egos and sense of power. You were also just one of several dancers; subtly turning, you observed the others so you could try and copy their fluid and sensual movements, the muscles in your thighs and core being worked in ways that you had not experienced before. You kept an eye out in the room for the target, and eventually you spotted him sitting about three booths away, a group of nasty looking mercenaries at his side.

Alright, let’s get this over with before my legs give out.

Batting your painted eyelashes at him, you winked at the Twi’lek and blew him a kiss before turning your focus back to the dance that you were trying to pull off.

The band changed songs, and the other dancers kept going, adjusting to the new tempo and you assumed that’s what was expected of you as well. You wondered when this would end, when you would have an opportunity to get this night over with — your legs were burning as you stretched, bent, spun, flexed in different and new ways, all while trying to maintain some semblance of decency — you didn’t want anyone but Din to look at you how these men were.

Keeping your focus on the target, you saw the Twi’lek man gesture to the burly man who had brought you up here; a quiet conversation took place during which he pointed directly at you, and then you witnessed the Twi’lek hand the man a stack of Imperial credits.

He was buying you.

It was a departure from the original plan, but then again everything about this night had been. The original plan had been left in the dust, and you just hoped that Din would be able to keep pace with the changes. Following the men’s transaction, you watched as the Twi’lek disappeared through a hallway into a private room, and the large man made his way to the platform you had been brought to. Coming to a halt in front of you, he grunted something entirely unintelligible over the sounds of the music and the crowd, but the meaning was not lost on you. Your services had been bought.

You climbed down from the platform, the glow of the hot stage light leaving you, and you sighed in relief; the man pointed in the general direction of where the Twi’lek had gone and you wordlessly took your cue to join him. Slinking your way through the tables, you ran your hand along the knife that had been carefully concealed, hidden underneath your dress and pressed against your ribs; you were suddenly very grateful for Din’s insistence that you carry it. You then retrieved the small comm from the bosom of your dress, having cleverly hidden it there; you pressed the button on the side once, twice, three times, alerting him that you were moving and the final phase of the plan was in action.

You arrived at the end of the hallway to find the door to the private room; it was one of many discreet doors, but this was the only one that was cracked just slightly to indicate to you where to go. Feeling your heart start to race, you hoped that Din would be close behind you, as the thought of being alone with this man for an extended period of time was admittedly quite terrifying; the thought that he had bought your... services, and would be expecting you to engage accordingly, made your skin crawl. The nervousness that you hadn’t felt previously was starting to catch up with you, and you had a bit more understanding of why Din had been as concerned as he was.

You could feel an acidic, stabbing pain of nervousness in your gut as your feet carried you closer and closer to the dark walnut door. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, pushing that nervousness and fear away, you knocked softly on the door to indicate your arrival. You stepped into what was a surprisingly clean and relatively quiet room; it was free from the colorful and flashing lights of the rest of the club, instead being dimly lit with candles that illuminated comfortable-looking furniture, and a table with a bottle of sparkling wine.

You turned your gaze to the Twi’lek in front of you; he wasn’t unattractive, but the fact that he had the audacity to try and purchase sex from a woman — no, he wasn’t even purchasing sex from a woman, it was from a fucking pimp — was nauseating, and the smugness that rolled off of him threatened to make your nose turn up in disgust. Forcing aside your personal assessments, you smiled at him and took a seat next to him before pouring you each a glass of wine. You knew you needed to focus on playing your role and getting the job over with.

Taking a sip of the wine you had poured, the carbonation tickled your nose and you giggled instinctively, not accustomed to the sensation. The man took it as an indication of interest, however, and his hand moved to your upper thigh, pushing the hem of your dress to the side. He downed the rest of his drink quickly before turning to place his other hand on your shoulder — and then his body was moving closer and closer towards yours, and your heart pounded, your head screamed at you to get the fuck out of here, where is Din, fuck, should I kill this guy?

Right at the moment that you had moved to make a grab for your knife, the heavy wooden door you had walked through opened quietly and you breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the beskar that glowed in the lamplight. The Twi’lek kept his hands where they were on your body, but turned from you to speak to the intruder, growling, “Hey buddy, get the fuck outta here, can’t you see we’re busy?”

You winced and concealed a laugh, knowing that while this man may not die tonight, he would not be feeling too great once Din was done with him. The door closed and the three of you were concealed from the party, contained in the privacy of the room together. Before the man had time to touch you any further, Din reached out to grab the Twi’lek and roughly hauled him off of you, only slightly throwing his body into the glass table that shattered on impact.

You didn’t need to see Din’s face to know that he was absolutely livid. Having been removed from the unwanted grasp of the Twi’lek, knowing that you and Din were both safe, there was a part of you that got a sort of thrill from the protectiveness that Din displayed for you. It was also shockingly and undeniably attractive watching him rough the guy up, and your biological, hormonal response to the sight caught you a bit off guard.

The Twi’lek was unconscious, but thankfully not dead; after having been thrown through a glass table by your protector, he was... quite easy to disarm and handcuff. After Din had thoroughly secured the situation at hand, he stomped over to you angrily, the force of his steps echoing around you, and you could feel the rage and possessiveness that was positively boiling underneath the armor. “Are you alright?” He asked brusquely, pulling your scantily clad body into his heavily covered one.

“Yes, Din, I’m fine — things didn’t go exactly to plan, but I’m—“

He cut you off as he brought his hand down to cover your eyes— surprised, you started to recoil on instinct, until you heard the click of his helmet being removed; and then his lips were on yours, kissing you greedily and intensely in a way that you had never experienced before. Instinctively, your hands reached out to pull him closer into you and you were hit by an absolute tidal wave of need for him. You bit down on his lip, an animalistic drive taking over your body, and he growled underneath you. “Fuck,” he grunted, pulling away from you but keeping his hand securely over your eyes. “Fuck, fuck, not here — get you home —“

You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or not, but you whined as your body screamed out for more contact, more attention than what you were receiving. You heard the helmet click back into place and your chest deflated, knowing that you would not be getting what you needed; at least not yet. His hand moved away from your eyes and you saw Din standing in front of you, breathing heavily and roughly. You clearly weren’t alone in your own desires, but Din at least had the foresight to know that this was not the time or place.

He wordlessly turned to grab the unconscious man and haul him out, being rougher than you had expected as the man’s head knocked into the door frame with a thud. You followed along behind him, trusting him to know what he was doing despite the adrenaline and the hormones that were rushing over you both like Naboo’s waterfalls. He navigated you carefully out of the speakeasy, until the two —no, three— of you were back into the cool, muggy evening air of Corellia. You saw a guard had been dispatched by Din at the back door, and a M-68 Landspeeder that was presumably stolen was waiting for you. Din lifted the unconscious body into the back seat and allowed it to slump over before he was then reaching out to grab you, his hands planted tightly on your waist as he lifted you up, as though your weight was nothing for him, and set you down into the passenger seat of the speeder before climbing in next to you.

The journey back to the ship was blessedly short compared to the initial journey into the city, thanks to Din’s questionable acquisition of a vehicle, but it was just as silent as the day’s earlier journey had been. You weren’t sure of what was going on in Din’s head, but you knew that you were aching to get back to the security of the ship and to be able to be alone with him. You felt excitement blooming within you as the Razor Crest came into your line of sight, but Din remained maddeningly silent.

He got the limp body securely sealed into carbonite with impressive speed, before picking your tense and wanting body up and out of the vehicle. Much to your surprise, he didn’t set you down on the ground, but rather carried you up the ramp and into the ship you both knew as home.

You could feel the adrenaline and desire pumping through your body as you felt Din’s strong arms wrapped around you, carrying you gently but with a force and determination that was a bit nerve-wracking. You were fairly certain that you could hear his heart hammering against the beskar chest plate that you were pressed against, and his gloved hands just barely dug into your skin, making your heart race in anticipation for what was undoubtedly about to come next.

The lights in the cabin of the ship had already been turned off, and your sense of anticipation heightened with the deprivation. Din takes his helmet off in the dark. He placed you down unexpectedly, your feet fighting to keep you upright, and that coupled with the darkness was momentarily disorienting. He stepped closer into you, his frame eclipsing yours as you were backed into the wall of the cabin and you could feel the steel paneling against the skin that your silver dress had left exposed. The cold steel coupled with the desire that was burning through you, radiating from your core, gave you an intense sensory overload that left your chest rising and falling rapidly as your breaths became more shallow, a soft whine arising from you.

Your hands reached out, grasping for any bit of Din that they could reach, and you somewhat forcefully dragged him into you, using his body to pin yourself against the wall of the ship. You heard a grunt come through the modulator and the fire inside you crawled up your chest as you told him in no uncertain terms to “Take that off, right fucking now.”

You heard the helmet drop to the floor not a second later, with no regard for its integrity — but honestly, it was beskar, you’d be more worried about the integrity of the floor than the helmet — and the impulsiveness of the gesture only fueled the scorching fire that was running through your veins, setting every nerve ending alight. Finally having been freed from the restrictiveness of the helmet, Din growled your name under his breath as he leaned in to kiss you, echoing the fierce desperation with which he had kissed you in the speakeasy. His arms wrapped around you in a vice as his hands grabbed your ass, and he licked into your mouth, the heat and the taste of his tongue making you moan underneath him reflexively. You kissed him deeper, needing to be as close to him as possible — the cool beskar pressing into you made him feel even more domineering, powerful, but you resented its presence and the way it barricaded you from Din’s body.

“Never doing that again — not going on another job with me —“ Din grunted, his words partially lost in the heavy, bruising kisses he was trailing up your neck. “Saw you— saw you dancing, saw that motherfucker pay — should’ve killed him —“

God, the possessiveness and the protectiveness was fucking hot. There was something within you that reveled in his intense desire to protect you and keep you to himself. Memories of the fresher came back to you, how he had called you his good girl, and the prospect of hearing those words spoken into your soft skin again made you achingly wet for him. You sighed into him, your body melting underneath his touch as he kissed and harshly bit at the soft skin of your neck, loving the way his teeth felt scraping and sinking into you. It felt as though there was a storming, angry ocean of desire and desperation crashing into you ceaselessly, so overwhelming that you worried you might drown in it before Din would be able to give you what you needed.

You tangled your hands into the hair that you noticed was growing even longer, the curls feeling so real and so human, despite the forced disconnect of armor and anonymity. “Din,” you sighed, tugging his curling hair gently, trying to pull him out of the smoldering anger he was experiencing, and back into this moment with you. You didn’t want to hear any more about the job, the club, any of it — you wanted to hear Din tell you that you look so pretty taking his cock, you’re his good girl, your pussy feels better than anything in this galaxy.

“My girl,” he whispered roughly, digging his fingers into your exposed skin, the warm baritone of his unfiltered voice setting off butterflies — and for a moment you wondered if he could actually read your mind.

You nodded in agreement —you’re his girl, always — whimpering as one of his hands moved from your backside to roughly cup your breast; you felt the aged leather of the glove against your skin and realized he was all too clothed in comparison to your exposed form. Your dress had shifted to bunch around your waist as Din had pressed you into the wall, progressively revealing more and more of you to him. You reached out to grab his gloved hand, bringing it up from your chest and to your flushed face. He paused for a moment, waiting to see what you were doing; and then you brought his hand up to your soft mouth, gently biting down on his thumb and pulling the glove off with your teeth. The taste of gunpowder and leather lingered on your tongue, and there was some small piece of you that got a thrill from it.

It had been an experimental move, one that you weren’t sure how he would respond to, but the groan that echoed through him shot your adrenaline and confidence sky high, knowing that you made that happen, knowing that you were giving him what he wanted. And although he had you pinned against the wall, you still tried valiantly to remove some of the layers that separated you — you needed to feel his skin against yours, needed to be able to kiss him all over, wanted to taste him, wanted to feel him in new ways.

He took your cue and backed up slightly, allowing your chest the room to expand with much-needed deep breaths as he rushed to pry the armor and equipment off of himself, each thud and clang of beskar on the floor sending stronger and stronger waves of heat through your body; you wondered if this is what it was like to catch fire under the unforgiving suns of Tattooine.

You heard something soft and distinctly not-beskar land next to the two of you, and assumed that he was finally beginning to work his way out of his underclothes. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his pants and yanked him back towards you forcefully, needing to feel the heat of his body pressed against yours. You could feel the defined muscles of his abdomen, the assorted scars that scattered his frame, the broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms; you kissed down his neck and to his chest, biting down harshly and then soothing the area with your tongue, loving the way that he writhed and moaned against you as he held you against himself.

Your hand moved down from the wide expanse of his shoulders to palm at the rock hard erection that was unfortunately still barricaded by Din’s pants; and as you curled your fingers around his cock, Din growled and gathered the sheer fabric of your dress in his hands, pulling it down rapidly and aggressively, leaving you to try and extricate your arms from the delicate straps before he ripped it entirely off of your body. Eventually shimmying yourself free of the dress that had blessedly remained intact, you felt the pile of tulle and sequins fall to your feet. You kicked the garment away from you, a subtle hint to make Din distinctly aware of how exposed you now were. You pulled at the rough utility fabric that concealed the lower half of his body, that concealed his throbbing erection that you so desperately needed to feel within you — and Din stepped out of the clothing, the two of you breathing heavily at the amount of skin to skin contact you now shared; you wondered if he had ever been this bare, this exposed, with anyone before.

Although it was dark within the cabin of the ship, you knew each other’s bodies well, having spent several nights sleeping together, and your previous interactions during the shower having brought you closer than ever before. Your breath hitched in your throat as you had a sudden feeling of nervousness; you couldn’t understand why you were suddenly anxious, as this was something you had wanted for so long — but apparently you weren’t the only one with some nerves. Din’s breath shook as he pulled your body into his, whispering your name. “I don’t know that the bunk will be, ah... comfortable, or, you know, enough... space.”

That was a fair consideration, remembering how close you slept next to him; it wouldn’t offer enough space for anything other than sleeping.

An idea occurred to you; you leaned forward and kissed his shoulder, before you pulled away from his grasp, the chill of the cabin catching up with you as you crossed to retrieve the well-loved blankets from the bunk as you placed them onto the floor, creating a makeshift bed for the two of you. “Problem solved,” you whispered, grabbing his hand and guiding him onto the softened surface with suddenly confident steps.

He laughed gently, and you could feel a smile working its way to his face as you kissed him. He swung you up into his arms with ease, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carefully brought both of your exposed and nude bodies down to the floor. You were acutely aware of how his muscles flexed and contracted as he held you closely, his sculpted and scarred body feeling incredible as it laid on the floor next to yours. Now, being able to effectively move and maneuver yourself around him, you were emboldened to try something you had never done before, feeling confident as your adventurous ideas had been well-received so far.

Your soft and gentle hands pressed Din’s wide shoulders down into the unyielding floor and he complied, willing to let you have the control right now. You positioned yourself over his body so that your head was pointing in the direction of his feet, while you propped yourself up above his impressive, large frame on your palms, the arch of your back offering him a perfect view of how wet you were for him, damn near dripping onto his chest. He groaned explicitly as you bent forward to take his cock into your mouth, and you could feel the tension moving through his body as you took him deeper into your throat, your tongue swirling around him and tasting every exquisite, velvety inch of him.

You were relieved when Din’s broad and calloused hands came up to rest firmly on your ass, understanding what you were needing from him, and he pulled your aching center down to his stubbled jawline, to allow his tongue to trace gently over your clit, finally offering you the pleasure and stimulation that you had been needing since Din had kissed you feverishly in the club. You felt your eyes roll back with a wash of pleasure and relief as he sucked gently on the bundle of nerves, flicking his tongue across it in rhythmic circles, occasionally allowing his tongue to explore further into your body and enjoy all of the wetness you offered him — and you hummed in satisfaction against his thick cock, as you moved your mouth up and down his length, enjoying the wet sounds sounds it produced as you continually swallowed around him, loving the deep grunts and animalistic groans you received in response. The humming must’ve added some enjoyable stimulation for him, as you tasted his precum on your tongue; and then he slid two fingers into your tight cunt, working to open you up to be able to take the considerable length of his cock. You loved the deliciously wet and sloppy sounds that came from the two of you; your mouth, as you continuously drug your tongue along the underside of the cock that was hitting the back of your throat, and your pussy as Din finger-fucked you on the floor of the ship.

He added a third finger to your tight entrance and you instinctively cried out at the stretching sensation, your body writhing as his thumb moved to tweak continuously over your clit with varying levels of pressure.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Din sighed with a laugh. “If you think three fingers is a lot, you’re in for a surprise.” His voice sounded like gravel, rough and breathy and cracking beneath you, sending you higher and higher with his cocky assessment. Well, you were never one to shy away from a challenge.

You could feel the weight of your orgasm building within you, the heady and hot tension that had coiled at your center spreading its way out to your stomach, your thighs, threatening to break at any moment. Your muscles constricting, you chased that peak, that high, and your mouth slid off of Din’s cock as you gasped for air — “Din, fuck, Din, I’m gonna cu—“

And then he quickly pulled himself away from you, right as you were right there, and you cried out in exasperation and frustration at having been denied your orgasm; your entire body was screaming with anger and deprivation, and you felt as though you might shatter with all of the tension.

His body moved away from underneath you as you came to rest against the makeshift bed of blankets, and in the dark, you had absolutely no idea what was going on or why he had done this to you. “Din, what the fuck?” You hissed angrily, your hands reaching out to try and grab him and bring him back to you. But then you suddenly felt two strong, familiar hands grasp your waist from behind, and you were abruptly yanked upwards by your waist and onto your knees, the blankets ruched up underneath you; the disorientation of the darkness was intimidating but also incredibly exciting — although you were still somewhat pissed at Din for his asshole move.

You were on all fours, desperately waiting for Din to do something, anything.

“Look at my pretty girl, waiting so nicely for me.”

You felt Din’s muscled thighs and his thick cock press up against your exposed backside; you were able to determine that he was on his knees behind you. You whined in anticipation, not minding the hint of desperation that crept in with it.

“Gods, look at you. Fucking dripping wet, making a mess for me. Is that all for me, sweet girl?” He hmmed confidently, dipping his finger inside of you and bringing your wetness up to his mouth for a taste. “Bet you’re just dying to take this cock, to cum on it for me, aren’t you?”

You whined once more, a small, needy sound that would’ve been embarrassing had you not been so desperately wanting to cum after your earlier denial; your muscles still quaked and tensed as you hovered right on that edge. You pressed your ass further back into him, trying to get some sort of stimulation against your aching cunt, but Din just cupped your ass and pressed your shoulders down into the floor; you felt the wool blanket against your cheek as you writhed against him in frustration.

“Please,” you whispered.

“Please... what?” There was a somewhat maniacal edge to his voice and you felt a thrill of anticipation shudder through you.

“Din, please!”

“Please what?” His voice cut through you like steel.

You could feel the blunt and swollen head of his cock pressed against your throbbing entrance, and fuck, while you didn’t want to beg you couldn’t help it any longer, the unyielding desperation coursing hotly through you as you just gave in to what Din wanted. “Fuck, Din — please, please fuck me, please let me cum for you —“

A satisfied chuckle coming from deep within his chest, Din finally pressed forward into you with a ragged, shaking moan — and the resulting moan that came from your body echoed his own, as he buried himself impossibly deep into your tight and soaking cunt, while effectively pinning your shoulders to the floor and rendering you immobile. You had thought you would be prepared for the sheer size of him, the girth, the length that you had taken in your mouth and throat, but it was unlike anything you had ever experienced before — he really had been right in saying that three fingers wouldn’t compare.

For a brief moment you wondered if you would even be able to take all of him inside you — and your question was quickly answered as he pulled back from you, dragging his cock along your inner walls, before his hips snapped forward to slam into you with a shocking and devastatingly incredible force. Feeling his cock sink deeper and deeper into you, your body offered little resistance to this pleasure as you cried out at the stretching and filling sensation, hurting but in a good way that just made you crave him even more.

Din’s hands found their place along the bend of your hips as he pushed and pulled your willing body into his; and with each thrust forward penetrating you even deeper, you felt the edges of your mind starting to go white-hot with pleasure once more. You reveled in the sounds he made, needy and wanting, loving that he wasn’t one to shy away from letting you know just how fucking incredible this felt for him, too.

This was unlike anything you had ever experienced with a man before, Din was unlike anything else in this galaxy, and you knew that even if you spent a hundred years with him you would never get enough of this feeling — the feeling of his throbbing, veined cock dragging against your sensitive walls, hitting spots inside of you that you never even knew existed. You could feel the ever-increasing slickness of your cunt that allowed for him to slide in and out of you repeatedly, while the lower half of your body started to constrict with that same heat of pleasure that he had ripped away from you just moments ago — but that didn’t matter anymore, you had no room for grudges as he completely filled both your body and mind.

He said your name over and over, the sound spilling from his lips like a prayer, like a curse, like a promise — and you reveled in the sheer adoration of each utterance that tumbled from him. You wished that you could give him the same verbal adoration and praise that he offered you, but you were completely incapable of doing anything except making lewd, high-pitched, unintelligible sounds that echoed and radiated through the walls of the ship, becoming more desperate with each powerful thrust into your clenching and tight cunt.

“Gods, I knew you’d take my cock so f-fucking good, look at that — such a pretty girl, such a g-good girl — fucking knew you’d feel incredible from the m-moment I saw you, wanted to fucking split you in half on my cock —“

The praise and dirty words Din offered you tickled a previously-repressed, unexplored part of yourself and after this awakening you wanted more of it. Seeking out that praise and reinforcement, you decided to take back some control in this situation and initiate something more — Din had you fairly well pinned against the floor, his hips ramming his cock into you relentlessly, but you were able to shift your arms in a way that allowed for you to reach around the back of your thighs and spread yourself open even further for him. Your movement caught him off guard as his hips snapped into yours forcefully, his cock penetrating so far into you that you thought you may never recover from it — and the force of his thrust collapsed both of your bodies into the floor as a guttural fuck escaped from him.

You felt his broad chest and the heaviness of his frame crushing you into the floor, but you didn’t mind, loving the pressure of his full body weight against you while his cock was buried inside you so deeply that you could feel him twitching inside of you, could feel each beat of his heart pulsating through his body.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” he gasped, pushing himself up off of your body and off of the floor. “I don’t know what the fuck you just did, but I’m going to need you to do that again for me.”

You grinned, somewhat delirious from all of the stimulation and physical sensations you had experienced here on this makeshift bed. And yet for all of the wonderful, amazing, beautiful things you had felt — you still hadn’t cum, and your very skin felt as though it was crawling with a fire that left you aching with every second that passed by. You wanted to cum, wanted Din to make you cum; and you wanted to make him cum in return, giving each other the release and bliss you had been wanting since your first meeting on Chandrila. If you were to tell the truth, you’d tell Din that you had wanted him from the very first day, even though you had fought so hard to quell those feelings.

You couldn’t see well in the darkness that shrouded the cabin — couldn’t see anything, to be honest — but you could feel your hands connect with Din’s shoulders and you shoved him back down onto the floor, appreciating his willingness to follow your lead. Your hands traced gently down his body, feeling every hard line and ridge of him, feeling every scar, and loving every inch of him that he had allowed you to see, at least in this way. You swung your legs over his waist and positioned yourself above him, guiding his thick and still-wet cock back inside of your tight and enveloping cunt; the two of you gasped at the sudden, clenching contact and rush of adrenaline, and you began to ride him in earnest, loving the sound of your skin slapping against his as you crashed into him over and over and over again.

“Gods, you just love it when I ride your thick cock like this, don’t you, Din?” You said with a malicious grin, hoping to draw out the same kind of dirty words he had given you earlier. “Just falling apart for me so easy—“

“Fuck, yes, I do love it my sweet —“ He choked out, his hands finding their way up your body and coming to rest at your breasts, tweaking your hardened nipples with his rough touch. “Love watching that tight pussy take my cock, love how you feel on me, love how you taste — you’re just so fucking incredible—”

“Show me how much you love it,” you challenged, an edge creeping into your voice. “Cum for me.”

His groans turned into irregular grunts of pleasure as he moved to hold your body in place, restricting your movements as he fucked up into you, sounds spilling forth from him. “Believe me, I will cum for you — I’ll cum inside that sweet, perfect pussy. But you’re gonna cum for me first, sweet girl.”

Din’s threat— or promise, depending on your perspective — echoed through you and a crashing tidal wave of need threatened to collapse your chest and inhibit your very breathing. Your body was positively aching with tension and strain now, your muscles screaming out in exhaustion — you needed to cum, you needed the release, you needed to fall over that peak and then rest next to Din. “Yes, please, please, please,” you cried, each word becoming more and more deranged and desperate than the last.

“Tell me what you need, sweet girl,” Din panted roughly, continuing to hold your shaking body in place as he fucked into you relentlessly.

You weren’t sure what you needed except more of Din, and you didn’t even know how to ask for that as he was clearly giving you everything he had, thrusting up into you and offering up each and every groan of pleasure that your pussy wrung from him. More. You just needed more.

“Kiss me, Din Djarin.”

He laughed softly and you could hear the smile in it; for all of the dirty words and debased, debauched actions, this sweetness was what you wanted and what you needed. He pulled your body in close to his, planting a soft kiss on your cheek before rolling the two of you over so you were now laying against the blankets. His cock never left your center, even in the transition; and then his hands brought your legs up to rest on his shoulders and he began drilling into you with an unholy force, crumpling your body in half with each thrust as he bent downwards to kiss you. He was panting and you could feel a bead of sweat drip from his forehead as he worked to get you there, fighting off his own orgasm, needing to get you there first.

As his lips pressed repeatedly into your soft and hot flesh, you could feel it coming on; that tense and aching heat coiled within you, your back arched up from the floor, and your hands rose up to pull Din in closer to you, gripping his hair forcefully. You couldn’t see anything in the blackness of the ship but your vision was changing regardless, as your body readied itself to jump from that cliff, giving you the release you needed. “Din—“ you gasped out, your muscles constricting.

“Yes, yes, cum for me sweet girl — wanna feel you cum on my cock,” Din grunted, thrusting into you with each word. He leaned in to kiss you once more and it was everything you needed.

It felt as though a seismic charge went off inside the small ship, your muscles contracting and quaking as your body was taken over by wave after wave of undulating pleasure. Your skin felt like it was vibrating at a new frequency, each nerve ending heightened and feeling overstimulated as you cried out in unintelligible but unmistakeable pleasure. Your cunt clenched around Din’s cock, spasming with each new wave of pleasure that overtook your body.

Din snarled at the feeling of you clenching and coming undone around him and you knew that he was close; you drug your nails against his scalp, his hair tangling between your fingers, and you leaned up to gently capture his earlobe between your teeth, tugging slightly. “Want you to cum for me, Din. Want you to cum inside me.”

The rapid movements of his hips became increasingly irregular until you felt the heat of his release within you, his body collapsing on top of yours as he inhaled deep and ragged breaths, you could feel him shaking on top of you, could feel his muscles and his cock twitching as he was lost to the overwhelming pleasure of his orgasm. Hot ropes of Din’s cum coursed through your pulsing and throbbing cunt, coating you and filling you in a way that made you writhe in pleasure and self-satisfaction; you couldn’t help but think of the way you’d be left dripping from him, a mix of both of your orgasms coating you in a messy, magnificent bliss. When he finally pulled away from your feverish and trembling body, you felt the mix of fluids cascading down your thighs in a way that almost made you want to climb on top of him again.

You were both left entirely breathless, every ounce of energy spent in giving the other what they needed and had been denied for so long. Din’s body rolled off of yours, allowing you to breathe deeply and you inhaled lungfuls of cool air, quieting the fire that coursed through your body. His chest taking deep and ragged breaths, he pulled you in close to his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely as he sighed and kissed every inch of exposed skin that he could reach. You were utterly wrecked, entirely devastated, and more blissfully happy than you ever could have imagined you could be.

This life was turning into everything that you had ever wanted, and feared you would never get. You felt tears of happiness pricking at the corner of your eyes, and you smiled into Din’s chest, never wanting to leave this moment.

He must’ve felt the tears that had slipped out and onto him; bringing your face up to his, his hand cradling your cheek gently, he kissed your forehead. “Sweet girl, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you whispered, a brilliant grin spreading across your face. “Everything is perfect. You’re perfect. This life here, with you, is perfect.”

You would later blame it on the rush of dopamine and oxytocin, but truth be told, you could no longer deny the truth to either yourself or to Din. Feeling emboldened and safe in this space with him, the truth tumbled forward from your lips, unable to be concealed any longer.

“I love you, Din Djarin.”

It felt beautiful and exhilarating to speak it out loud, to acknowledge the truth of your feelings. You didn’t even necessarily need for Din to say it back; that’s how secure you felt in this moment, in this feeling of love. You would love him endlessly, would love him through hell or high waters, would love him whether you were right next to him or lightyears away. You couldn’t hold back the truth, and nor did you want to. You loved Din Djarin, more than you had ever loved anything in existence, and while it was exhilaratingly terrifying, it also felt like the safest, most comforting thing in this galaxy.

And it was a whole new kind of bliss that was revealed to you when he spoke to you in response.

“And I love you.”

#Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #Din Djarin fic #Din Djarin x Reader #the Mandalorian #Mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin fanfiction #the space between

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mythgirlimagines · 3 years

Photo

Time for this Tuesday’s Talentswap! Here’s an original talent this time! Introducing Myth, the Former Ultimate Architect!

—————————————————————- BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Ever since Architect!Myth was young, she had two major passions in life: art and aesthetics. While she also has a penchant for fashion and watercolour painting, it’s the art of buildings that really called to her. Due to her wealthy family travelling a lot during vacations, she saw buildings of many different styles and seeks to replicate them all in her sketchbook. She found her true calling when she was asked to sketch a new design for her town’s new daycare. Many of the town’s citizens loved her designs and soon, more and more people came to ask her to design buildings for their various businesses. Her popularity soon spread across the globe, reigniting her interest in traveling. With all the traveling that comes with her popularity, she views her time at Hope’s Peak as a rare chance to stay on solid ground for once. She is now settling down in a self-designed penthouse and trying her best to interact with the colorful denizens of the town.

——————————————————————

RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Comic Book Artist

Myth and Wyre have been best friends ever since grade school, having bonded over their shared love of art. But because of their different career paths and Myth’s regular travels, they’ve grown apart over the years. But ever since they have reunited in Hope’s Peak and are now sharing a penthouse, their friendship has slowly, but surely been revived.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Historian

Anon Scar, or as she likes to call herself, “The Demon of Time”, hasn’t exactly captivated Myth, or as Scar christened her “The Demon of Shelter”, with her constant spiels of time spells and demonic contracts. But they have bonded over their travels, and Scar was definitely impressed by the amount of travels that Myth undertook.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Storm Chaser

Because of Fusion’s weather-based talent, he regularly warns Myth of upcoming storms and has saved many soon-to-be-built buildings from being demolished by a tornado. He also loves giving Myth rides on his biplane to give her a bird’s eye view of the town’s buildings. But Myth still wonders to this day how Fusion manages to tame his wild mane of hair.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Journalist

Myth is still wondering to this day how two unrelated Anons manage to have the same name. This sassy muckraker manages to get some giggles out of the otherwise serious architect with her sardonic social commentary and amusing town gossip. What Fusion II doesn’t know though, is that Myth has some dirt on her too. (Note: She has accidentally called Fusion ”dad” a couple of times!)

Just Anon, Ultimate Train Engineer

Myth’s attempts at socialising with Janon have, quite frankly, been fruitless. This foul-mouthed and listless conductor doesn’t seem to be a fan of socialising with anyone, let alone Myth. But if Fusion II’s testimony is true, he seems to have a bit of a soft side around the Jr. Ultimates.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Organiser

The normally serious Myth was shook when she saw the state of Sparkle’s penthouse. It’s very clear that Sparkle takes great care in making everything as immaculate as humanly possible. Sparkle is also a great party organiser, making great, if over-the-top, opening ceremonies for Myth’s buildings.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Oceanographer and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Groundskeeper

“The Freak Twins“, as some Anons have coined, aren’t particularly known for their social skills, and it’s not hard to see why. Neither of them understand the concept of thinking before your speak, and they have some really disgusting and cursed thoughts, to which Myth had to have witnessed first hand. At least Wet Sock is good at maintaining the town’s expansive park.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Carpenter

To say that Myth was surprised when this small and svelte middle schooler made a majority of the wooden buildings and sculptures, would be the understatement of the century. Curious is hospitable and easy to get along with, allowing Myth to socialise with Curious easily. Myth definitely understands why Fusion II thinks Janon has a crush on them.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Golf Pro

Myth found it very hard to socialise with this explosive and confrontational athletic prodigy. For some reason, Nerd’s face tends to turn bright red when around the architect. He claims that it‘s just his scouter, but Fusion II and Wyre think otherwise.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Biochemist

Because Eldritch never leaves his penthouse and his distrusting and paranoid nature towards anyone other than his girlfriend, Myth wasn’t given many opportunities to socialise with him. Most of Myth’s info on Eldritch comes from either his girlfriend or Fusion II’s testimonials.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Ghost Hunter

Functioning as a bit of a conduit between Eldritch and Myth, Myth wonders how someone dealing with the dead on a daily basis manages to be this chipper. Myth recognised Dream from one of Wyre’s favorite reality shows: “NRG: Spirit Busters”. Myth managed to get an autograph from Dream and Wyre‘s happiness skyrocketed through the roof!

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Police Officer

With her optimistic and exuberant attitude, this cheery cop-in-training managed to charm Myth with her clumsy and justice-seeking antics. Myth, in a way, is a bit like a mother figure to Iris, making sure that Iris remains safe and in one piece. Because Iris is a major fan of Wyre’s comic series, Myth managed to get Wyre‘s autograph for her, securing the Myth-Riri friendship for life.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Chess Grandmaster

Because of Purple’s timorous nature, Myth doesn’t socialise much with her. She loves Purple’s gothic lolita ensemble though; it makes Purple look like a little chess piece! Myth is surprised that someone this timid could not only stand up to real chess champions, but to also be this fashion-foward.

————————————————————- APPEARANCE

This professional and serious architect has to also look the part. Architect!Myth wears a maroon overcoat with golden buttons and cuff links, over a white button-up shirt and a red tie with a building design on it. Architect!Myth also wears a matching maroon pencil skirt, black stockings and red Mary Janes. Her pencil skirt is held up by a black tool belt with a golden buckle. Architect!Myth’s hair is up in her signature ponytail, but her pink hair tie contains backup pencils, in case the pencil behind her ear runs out of graphite. ———————————————————- PERSONALITY

Because creating buildings is such a precise craft, Architect!Myth is more of a seriously-minded perfectionist, obsessively checking and double-checking if she made any mistakes. But because her line of work means that she travels regularly, she doesn’t really get to make or keep many friends. This resulted in Architect!Myth not exactly having the best social skills or awareness of romantic attraction (much to the dismay of Nerd), very much unlike Romantic!Myth. Her more socially-versed drawing buddy, Wyre usually does the talking for her. She’s trying her best to socialise with the town’s denizens though, and this is where her secret dorky side shines through. She also has an odd passion for fashion, and she can be a bit like the Fashion Police when it comes to the more fashionably-challenged citizens of town.

———————————————————-

How do you like Architect!Myth? What do you think of the talents that the other Anons have in this AU? Could you picture Architect!Myth’s friend-making adventures as a full-blown series? See you next Tuesday with a brand-new talentswapped Myth!

-Fusion Anon

—

I very much like this one! I can definitely picture Architect!Myth’s friendship adventures as a series, haha, you’re really great with those

#submission #anon #fusion anon #art #not my art #i speak #anon kg #talentswap tuesday

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llendrinall · 4 years

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(1) Draco, Harry, Hermione & Ron (aged 23) all are working on a case. Harry & Ron are Aurors. Draco & Hermione are both Healers & Unspeakables. The case is something like a bunch of Death Eater wannabes trying to resurrect the dark lord. So while busting in on their ritual all 4 are transported to their younger bodies at different times. Draco (5), Ron (7), Hermione (9), Harry (11) (The day before Hagrid comes to fetches him.)

(2) Harry and Draco were married so they use a phrase to each other so the other knows that they're the other and then plan a meet in the Room of Requirements. After confirming that Ron and Hermione (Married) are who they are too they go to the meet too. While each playing the roles they had the first time around. They then work out a plan for the war (Since Draco hasn't found a way back they plan to change things).

(3) Draco needs to play the bully/death eater and work to save the lives of the war victims. While Harry, Ron and Hermione work out the horcrux ect. Befor and during the war they secretly work to make preperations and stuff to minimize the damage while also playing their parts as school rivals. And they manage to minimize the deaths and they manage to save a lot of familiar faces. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, George ect.

(4) So after Harry kills Voldemort (He had an argument with Draco cuz Draco was worried he wouldn't come back this time) they're in the grand hall and everyone just sees the golden trio going to Draco with smiles. Ron gives him a handshake, Hermione a Hug, and shockingly Harry kisses him infront of everyone (Draco's parents are like "WTF?") And says "Told you i wouldn't die." "Shut up you bloody git". (In my head its a long fic with a LOT of stuff added. I just wanna know how you'd write this)

Mmh, yes this would be a long plotty fic, so I won’t detail the structure, just some of the elements I would use to build it.

First, I would have them go back to exactly one month before they turn 11. There is a very nice symmetry there and we avoid having Draco too long in his child’s body. An adult Draco in a 5-year-old body would be terrifying. Lucius would just flee the country.

So they go back to 11 minus one month. Harry and Draco have 1-2 summer months to get settled and start figuring things out, Ron gets around 7 months to think about family dynamics and draft a plan to contact his friends. Hermione has a whole year plus change to rage, study and come up with a definite plan to Get Things Right.

There is a beautiful tense scene as they board the train, because Harry and Ron don’t know if their friend is their old self or their young self. They are both very cautious around each other until Harry notices the way Ron looks at Scabbers and he knows. It just takes a couple of loaded comments afterwards to recognize each other.

Hermione barges in their compartment in her usual way and they have to drop some very heavy hints to remind her they are not alone. They can’t spook Pettigrew. Draco comes by, stares at Harry in silence for a whole minute and then passes him a note saying he can��t find the diary and also he ordered Dobby to go serve Harry, he should be waiting in Hogwarts. It is unclear whether Draco knows this Harry is the old Harry because Draco is, and has always been, kind of odd. It took them a while to discover it, but Draco is just a bunch or random powerful ideas held together with anxiety and fire. Harry loves him so much.

They go to Hogwarts. You would think that in this timeline Harry would be the most belligerent/hostile of them, but it is actually Hermione. Hermione is a nightmare student. She has a list of one hundred and fifty names and she is going to save all of them (except maybe Dumbledore and Snape). She has no time nor attention to waste in silly classes telling her what she already knows. She only comes to class sporadically, aces all her tests and hands out beautiful neat homework that barely took ten minutes out of her day to complete. Teachers hate her (or heavily dislike her), but they can’t expel her. It’s beautiful. The twins develop a crush on her.

Harry waits patiently until Christmas so Dumbledore can gift him the Invisibility Cloak and then announces that he is not going back to the Dursleys. Dumbledore insists. Harry says softly “by Jove, I will not” and Dumbledore thinks about that exchange for a week. He forgets about it when ten days later there is an incident in Transfiguration class and McGonagall discovers that Ron’s pet rat Scabbers is actually Peter Pettigrew.

(They were going to wait until Quirrell tried to steal the philosopher’s. Hermione insisted they couldn’t deviate too much of the original timeline or they would lose their advantage of knowing what was going to happen. If something was going to change, it was better to attach it to some other important event.

But Harry pointed out that it would be much easier to keep Sirius alive if he had some extra months of freedom and he didn’t have to live as a fugitive and Ron was certain that they would be fine even if they changed everything. It wasn’t just their knowledge of the events to come, it was their knowledge, period, their experience.

Ron is a man now, and adult, and he is kind of freaked out at the shenanigans they did when they were merely children. What were they thinking? Was there no competent adult to point out that were kids? It shouldn’t be up to them to rescue Sirius or Buckbeak, what in the seven hells.)

Anyway, Sirius is freed and Dumbledore is forced to explain everything about prophecies and love magic and blood protection early, because Harry insists he is going to live with Sirius. Harry agrees to go back to the Dursleys for two weeks, but Sirius has to come with him and no, he will not come as a dog, that’s demeaning. He will spend his time at the Dursleys as a human, thank you very much.

Sirius is the first adult to realize that there is something not quite right about Harry. The others had noticed that Harry was… special. But Sirius is the first one to see through, although he doesn’t know what he is seeing exactly.

Lucius still uses the Diary against the Weasleys, but this time Ron picks it up. Their first week back in Hogwarts, they all go for a nice excursion down to the Basilisk lair. They bring the Diadem, too. Harry speaks to the Basilisk and both horcruxes are destroyed.

The rest of the year is spent plotting. Draco takes on the role of the bully and plays it up to hilarious heights. He picks on everyone, and that’s everyone, except Neville and Luna. Funnily, Cedric Diggory is a big fan of him and always answers to Draco’s banter.

Draco suggests having a Duel Club to Lockhart. There has been no student attacks, of course, but Lockhart loves the idea and Draco wants the opportunity to fight Harry and make ridiculously sexually charged comments. They have five very nice duelling sessions until the curse of the DADA post acts up and professor Lockhart is unavailable the rest of the year.

(Harry tutors everyone in his year so this time people will actually now how to cast a protego. Ginny comes to the classes too and is by far his best student).

That summer, Ron has a very long chat with Percy explaining everything. Ron is now eight years older than Percy and understand why his brother fell to the Ministry and rejected his family. The Weasleys had pushed him that way, hadn’t they? Ron also understands that suddenly being nice to Percy and giving him recognition won’t work. It’s too late. But telling Percy they come from another timeline in which Fred died gets Percy’s attention immediately. Percy spends a whole weekend freaking out in silence (nobody notices, of course, and boy is Ron appalled at his family dynamics). Come Monday, Percy emerges relatively calm, all things considered. He has given himself a haircut and is resolved to infiltrate the Ministry.

The locket is destroyed that summer. They let Sirius and Kreacher do it.

They were hoping to have all horcruxes down before Voldemort rose back, but Pettigrew escapes Azkaban and Voldemort comes back a year ahead of schedule. (Early 4th year).

Dumbledore locates the ring. Despite warnings from all of them (and Snape) he still puts the ring on and gets a curse for it. Hermione says if he is going to be like that, she will take him from her To-Save list.

Barely eight months after Voldemort comes back to power, the Ministry is full of his followers. For now, Voldemort is happy with acting from the shadows, but soon he will want more and the four of them want to avoid open war as much as possible.

Percy sends Ron Helga’s cup, broken. Ron asks how he did it in case they ever find themselves in a similar situation (new timeline and all), but Percy only says that he asked politely. That means there are only two (two? Or is it one?) horcruxes remaining. Draco decides to speed things up, before Voldemort stars his terror campaign. He tells his father than Dumbledore has a mysterious ring with an interesting crest and that’s enough to have Voldemort attack Hogwarts with all his might.

It may not seem like a good idea, but if you think about it it’s much better to have dark wizards try to take over a castle than over a cottage where a half-blood family lives. Plus, now they don’t have to sweep Britain looking for Nagini. They can see her perfectly well down in the grounds trying and failing to eat Hagrid.

The battle draws on and almost becomes a siege. The Ministry comes to help, only they help Voldemort’s side, what with being infiltrated and all.

It’s still preferable to the years of the war.

Sirius has been put under a careful and insistent treatment of “Sirius, no”, so he actually stops when he is told to, he doesn’t follow Pettigrew to a trap and he isn’t killed by Bellatrix. Well done, Sirius! Another advantage of Sirius surviving, beyond the fact that he survived, yay, is that he gets to save Snape when Voldemort decides he might not be a good double spy after all. Snape hates the idea of owing his life to Sirius. It is very entertaining.

Neville kills Bellatrix Lestrange. Luna kills Nagini (and feels bad for it, and cries, sweet Luna, may she always have a soft heart). Peter Pettigrew dies in a freak accident in which both the giant squid and the twins are involved. Cedric Diggory bullies seven Ministry wizards into switching sides.

Things are going good. There are many wounded, more than the last time, but no dead, not on their side.

Harry knows he will have to die, again. And it will have to be Voldemort. He can’t risk having anyone else cast the curse (would they even meant it?). They have changed so many things… They can’t be sure that all those changes won’t coalesce in this one instant in time. They can’t be sure that Harry will make it back.

But Harry still goes, because that’s what he has to do. He tries to make things as similar as possible, act the same way, say the same things. Maybe having Sirius and Moody and Tonks and Lupin alive and well and fighting won’t matter if Harry just follows the script on this.

But just in case it will matter, just in case Harry doesn’t come back this time, he throws some ad lib.

“Hey, Tom,” Harry says, holding his thumb between his index and middle finger. “I’ve got your nose.”

Well, at least he can be sure that Voldemort means it when he cast the curse.

The honour of killing Voldemort falls on Hagrid this time. It isn’t pretty.

And Harry comes back. Draco forgives him just for having said that line.

#asks #harry potter #timetravel #Anonymous #verse: deaged #textpost

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the-final-sif · 4 years

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could ya tell me more about Kat drawing? like one of favorite headcanons ever and mainly because of you. bruh Katsuki hakamata au really made uwu with his sketchbook i would love to know more headcanons on that

Okay! Katsuki drawing is one of my favorite smaller headcanons for him!

He draws almost exclusively realistic stuff. If he’s drawing for fun, then he’s drawing memories and moments from his life, sometimes scenery, and sometimes on his worst days scenes from his nightmares, but all things that he’s seen somewhere else. He also draws out designs for costumes/weapons, but they tend to be pretty realistic/technical drawings.

That’s because art is a form of processing for him. Katsuki has a lot of trouble with processing and understanding his own emotions. He wasn’t taught any self-reflective skills or emotional control skills when he was younger, and as a result he often experiences intense emotions that he doesn’t even understand let alone know how to handle.

Art is one of the few methods of dealing with those emotions that he has. It lets him reflect on the day, thinking over how things went and deciding how he feels about something as he sketches it out. It also lets him thing about his own actions and what he might want to change about them.

When he’s designing stuff, it’s still a form of processing, but it’s more of him processing his ideas and figuring out what he wants the design to be/do. A lot of it tends to reflect how he wants himself or others to change in the future.

That can mean redesigning his costume to be better for rescue work, but sometimes it means drawing up a redesigned version of Izuku’s costume which has better protective features on it, because Katsuki doesn’t know how to express his concern to Izuku in anything even approaching a healthy way, but he knows how to design better arm and leg guards. That’s much easier.

The only thing he never draws is himself. No part of him is included in his sketches, only ever the world around him. Even when he designs new upgrades and versions of his costume, there’s no Katsuki inside the costume.

He doesn’t like to think about why he doesn’t draw himself. It’s a line he doesn’t cross. Deviling too deep into feelings and ideas he isn’t ready for.

Drawing is a quiet period for him, time when he lets himself be alone with his thoughts and his feelings. And those are not thoughts and feelings he wants to deal with.

In the Katsuki Hakamata AU, that starts out being times when he’s truly alone and knows nobody else can come in and see him drawing. It’s one of the few times he’ll actually feel safe and let himself experience his emotions properly. So much of his life is spent shoving his emotions down and pretending that he doesn’t have them, that having a bit of time to himself to feel those emotions again is vital for him. Only ever when he’s sure he’s alone though, and nobody else will know he has feelings. It’s too dangerous otherwise.

But slowly that changes. As he learns other methods of emotional processing, and as he learns to open up and trust others again, he starts drawing around other people. Art is still a very important moment of reflection for him, but it’s a form of reflection that he can share with other people too.

With enough time, his class adjusts to Katsuki drawing around them. People learn quickly that if he’s drawing, he’ll be fairly quiet and focused on it. They can ask him questions about the artwork if they want, he may or may not feel up to telling them, but often times he will. They always try not to bother him with questions about other stuff though, otherwise he might lose focus.

It takes until well into their second year before Katsuki feels comfortable enough with his classmates and his artwork to start giving it to people.

Obviously it starts with the designs. He knows he’s good at designing shit, and he’s got god knows how many different designs for various people tucked away. Hell he’s made designs for heroes he’s never met before just because the idea struck him. The support department loves and hates him for all the designs he’s got for his own stuff. And some things about his classmates’ costumes or items were bothering him too much to stay quiet about.

So he gets proper blueprint paper, double checks all the support department’s regulations and design rules even though he knows them all by heart, and he draws up a few improvements and new items. New padding and bracing for Izuku because holy shit he needs it. A better electricity regulator for Denki because he’s been zapping himself more lately and Katsuki might be a bit worried about that. Some hidden weapons for Ochako, because she’s got those so many damn places to hide them and Katsuki knows she’d put those weapons to good use.

Once he’s got the first round of designs done, he’s not quite sure how to give them to the others. He doesn’t want to have to explain shit, and he’s already feeling kinda embarrassed about it.

So he.... doesn’t. Kinda. Katsuki slips the drawings under their doors when he knows they’re out instead. Each tucked into a nice envelope and address to them. They’ll still know it’s from him, because of course it is, but this way he doesn’t have to figure out what to say.

That becomes his new routine, slipping drawings under his classmates’ doors with upgrade ideas for them. They always thank him, with big smiles and hugs and excited chattering. He’ll huff at them and look away, but he still loves seeing them using the new stuff. It makes a warm feeling bubble up in his chest when he’s out on the field and sees something he designed come in handy.

It’s not always just his classmates either. He may’ve designed better eye guards for Aizawa-sensei, ones with built in eye drops to make it easier on him. Just maybe. Hawks finds designs for a jacket that’s easier on his wings on his desk.

All-Might’s not a hero anymore, so he doesn’t need any support weapons or costume changes. But when winter comes around, and cold starts to burrow it’s way into his old bones, he finds a thick homemade scarf on his desk in the teacher’s lounge. It’s extremely warm, and he knows who made it, even if there’s no note. He wears it all winter and well into spring, and doesn’t miss how young Katsuki’s face seems to soften a bit when he sees it.

It’s not until their third year that Katsuki works up the courage to give away some of his art that isn’t a design. To anyone other then Auntie Inko that is.

The very first gift to is to Aizawa, at the start of the school year, when Katsuki can already see the nostalgia creeping into his teacher’s gaze, his preemptive worry over his kids heading out into the ‘real world’ even though he knows they’ve been there for a long time.

He goes through his sketchbook and he picks out the very best of his pieces, those of his classmates and his teacher. Sure, he’s got more of some people then others, but he tries to keep it an even amount of each person. Some of the pieces need little touch ups or fixing before he’s happy with them, but once he is, he makes copies of each piece for his own collection, and the originals are bound together into a careful book.

This time he doesn’t leave it on Aizawa’s desk like he might a design. This is too important for that. He can’t quite look Aizawa in the eye when he hands it to him after class, but he does manage to mutter out a “Happy last year with this hell class.”

He doesn’t stay to see Aizawa’s reaction, but his teacher finds him afterwards and hugs him anyways. He tells Katsuki that he loves it, but comments very lightly that there’s someone missing from it. Katsuki knows, but he doesn’t have an answer for that yet.

Other people start getting artwork from Katsuki after that. They usually get copies rather then the originals, and it’s usually artwork of them. Izuku is the exception, he always gets the original copies because Katsuki knows he likes those. Most of it is just memories that he thinks they’ll want to hold onto.

Tsunagu gets drawings, of course he does. It’s less then Katsuki gives to other people, because if he’s giving artwork to his dad then he wants it to be good, but he still gets some. Tsunagu treasures each piece, but he notices the same pattern Aizawa does.

There’s pieces of Tsunagu in battle, pieces of him on his own, or with Kugo, or Hawks, and even one of him sitting beside Aizawa. Pieces of him rescuing civilians, or holding various children he’s met. But none of him and Katsuki. None of Katsuki at all.

He doesn’t press at it, but he mentions it offhand every so often. Gentle as he can be.

Katsuki knows, and it’s not until he’s almost graduated that he finally works up the courage to do what he hasn’t managed since he was a child.

He’s been working on the piece all year. His very first piece that isn’t a memory, isn’t a scene from real life or a future design. Something created from his own mind. It’s a big one. It’s got all his classmates in it. Aizawa-sensei. Mic-sensei. All-Might. Eri. His dad. Auntie Inko. Kugo. Hawks. Everyone’s there. Most of it is done, most of it but not the center, the focal point of the piece.

Drawing himself into the piece, one in which everyone is smiling and happy, had felt wrong each time he picked up his pencil. Felt like a lie, felt like he was sullying something perfect with something that didn’t belong.

Even now as he sketches himself into the picture, the last person missing from it, it still feels wrong. But he does it anyways. He pushes past the clench of his chest and reminds himself that he belongs here. He belongs in the picture too, smiling like everyone else is.

It takes longer then he would’ve liked, but he finishes the piece. When he puts down his brushes, done with the coloring at long last, and he takes it all in, that’s when it feels right. To see himself smiling with his family all around him.

Each person in the photo gets their own copy of it, each person but Tsunagu, who gets the original which he gets framed and is hung up in his living room. Katsuki doesn’t keep a copy of it for himself, he doesn’t need to. If he ever feels like seeing it, then all he needs to do is go visit any member of his weird, giant, amazing family.

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rune-writes · 4 years

Text

To Become A Hero

@ffseven #zackweek » Day 5: Dream

The Price of Freedom Part 5

Word Count: 1669

Rating: G

Summary: It is the summer of [ μ ] - εγλ 1997. Twelve-year-old Zack dreams of becoming a SOLDIER.

Note: A look into Zack’s childhood and why he wants to become a hero.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

It was one of those days when the sun burned bright over the barren wasteland and the day was too hot, too humid to stay cooped up in a small stone house, where his mother was making some soup or stew over a blazing fire in the stove. Zack lay on his back beneath the shade of a tree on the cliff, sweat covering his brow and neck and his shirt was already soaked. His jet-black hair plastered to his skin, he fanned himself with one of the bigger, sturdier leaves, but that didn’t do much good when even the air was hot. Summer in Gongaga was a hell of its own.

“And now, for our coverage on Wutai…”

The static voice came from the small radio he’d swiped from the house. No one used it anyway. His father was out working in the day and his mother was always busy, either cooking or up to other stuffs with the village ladies. He had no friends his age. Most kids were either older and leaving to find jobs outside Gongaga, or much younger that he couldn’t ask them to play his games with him. Not that he’d say no if they asked him to play. He was their big brother after all. But, sometimes, being on the cliff’s edge like this with the village’s blue circular rooftops dotting the jungle far below and the gray outline of the Mako Reactor visible in the distance, the vast cloudless blue sky stretching as far as the eye could see, all Zack wanted was to fly.

More statics. One reason why Zack spent a lot of time at the cliff was because the higher ground usually had good reception for the radio. “Usually” being the keyword. Zack hit the top surface with his fist. The static cleared up and a voice came out.

“…saragi has set up defenses. A fight has broken out. Under Sephiroth’s leadersh…SOLDIE…nd infantrym…eak past…………………”

Zack hit the radio several more times. He should try going to the Reactor one of these days. It had to have better reception, right? How else could Shinra monitor it from all the way over in Midgar? They'd told the kids to stay away, but Zack could probably go past security one way or another. He’d done so in the past.

“You’re going to break it if you keep doing that.”

The familiar yet unexpected voice jerked him in surprise. Zack glanced up from his position and saw a young man standing at the edges of his vision, upside-down, by the bushes and undergrowth, coming in from the path leading down the hill. Brown leather boots and pants with green checkered shirt beneath a brown vest, the man wore an amicable grin as he said, “Knew I’d find you here.”

Zack’s mouth broke into a grin of his own. “Rei!”

Rei was a friend and a neighbor. Older by a few years, he had left to join a traveling merchant group that used to frequent Gongaga a lot a few years back. They hadn’t been back here for a while.

“What’s going on?” Zack said, sitting up. “I didn’t know you were coming.” Rei chuckled. Summer breeze parted his dark hair, his skin a darker shade of the brown Zack had been familiar with. Zack patted the spot next to him. “Where did you go? Any new, exciting places? What about Midgar? Is it as big as they say? Tell me of all the places you’ve been to.” Zack had talked so fast he was running out of breath by the time Rei reached him, taking his seat next to him.

“Slow down, kiddo,” his friend said with a laugh.

“For your information, I’ll be thirteen in a few months. I’m not a kid anymore.” He had an air of bravado, as though being thirteen was everything a kid could ever dream of. Though, well, in actuality, it was. Being thirteen meant he would be old enough to make his own decisions, to look for a job, and no one would be able to stop him if he wanted to try his chances outside this backwater village.

The corners of Rei’s lips quirked up. He ruffled Zack’s hair. “You’re still going to be my little brother no matter how old you get,” he said. Zack brushed his hand away with a scowl. Rei grinned. He stretched his legs in front of him and leaned back against his arms under the tree shade. “Midgar, huh…” His dark gray eyes took on a faraway look as he stared across the clear blue sky. “It’s big, all right.”

“And?” Zack prompted when Rei didn’t continue.

“I never really stayed there long,” Rei went on. “The group’s always moving about. But…yeah, it’s kinda cool, I guess. Cool as in a lot cooler in the summer unlike Gongaga, and maybe cool with all the plates and all, too. We spent more time in the slums than the uppercity. Not many people would look at our wares there. They’re 'too elite', if that makes sense. Though, compared to their stores and whatnot, I can’t really blame them. To be honest, I like the slums more. More personality. People are nicer too—most of them. You’d still find thugs, but thugs are everywhere. The only downside I can think of is that you can’t see the sky.”

Zack narrowed his eyes in confusion. “How can you not see the sky?”

“You can, just a sliver bit.” His hand went to draw imaginary plates and walls to indicate where the sky in Midgar was. “The upper plate covered most of the sky. One might even call it a steel sky. But it’s nice when night comes and these lights flickered to life like stars. The central Corkscrew Tunnel is also lit up so bright you can't ever lose your way.”

“Corkscrew Tunnel?”

“This tunnel that goes around the central structure that supports the center of the city. It’s where trains go, connecting the upper plate and the slums below.”

Zack couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t imagine the scale in which Rei described it. All his world had only consisted of the jungle, the cliff, and the village. Sometimes, people from Midgar would come to inspect the Reactor, but they only spoke to the adults and they’d leave before dusk even came. Other times, Zack would find spots in the cliffs and hills surrounding the village where he could see the vast expanse of greenery beyond the jungle and the sliver stretch of blue where ocean met the sky. The world was so big, yet he was stuck in this small village no one had probably heard about.

“You still thinking of getting into SOLDIER?” Rei asked with a glance from the corner of his eye.

“Of course!” Zack leaped to his feet and puffed out his chest, hitting his torso with a clenched hand like a proud soldier having won a war. “I’m gonna be a hero, the best SOLDIER there ever was.”

“You’re gonna have to take on Sephiroth if you want to be the best.”

“You bet I would.” He’d said it with great zeal and determination. In his mind, he could imagine himself battling the white-haired warrior with his long-bladed sword, a steel blade in Zack’s hand as he rushed in and strike.

Rei’s snort brought him back to the present and when Zack looked, his older-brother figure was doubling over with laughter. The corners of Zack’s lips tugged into a sheepish smile. “Not good, huh?” he said.

“You’re never going to defeat Sephiroth,” Rei said in-between chuckles. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be a hero, or a great SOLDIER.” He grinned, and after a while, Zack grinned back.

They went on to talk about everything, catching up on the last three years Rei had been away. Nothing much had changed. Gongaga was still a backwater village with not much else outside the jungle and the Mako Reactor within. Some of the adults still worked at the Reactor. Others looked for jobs as merchants or fishermen or hunters and foragers.

“Why not stay?” Rei asked one time, arms loosely hugging his knees to his chest. “Work at the Reactor like your father.”

Zack gave him a side-eye. “Why didn’t you stay?”

Rei stared, then nodded, saying, “Good point.”

Any normal person living in the middle of nowhere would dream of going out and having a job somewhere. Some place that actually had life—and Midgar was the best bet. A modern, bustling, metropolitan city—one could say it was the center of the world, with vast technological advances, lots of high-rises and skyscrapers, and, most importantly, job offers. SOLDIER was only one of them.

Zack had heard how difficult it was to enter the company. From the tough screening program to other exams no one was privy of. Only a handful of candidates graduated every year. But Zack would do it. Once he turned thirteen in September, he’d embark on this new quest. He’d go to Midgar, take the SOLDIER test, and he’d come out the winner. It would be the start of his new life. His new self. And maybe—just maybe—if he managed to gain fame and become a hero…

Maybe they’d do something about this place. And for once, his parents wouldn’t have to break their backs every day to earn a living.

“Have you told your parents?” Rei asked.

Zack went quiet. He hadn’t. They probably wouldn’t let him.

Rei drew a quiet breath as he smiled a soft, understanding smile. He gazed back down at the village, where people could be seen mingling around in-between houses. The soft sound of a babbling brook filled the space. From somewhere far away, a waterfall cascaded over rocks and boulders down the side of a cliff.

Rei ruffled his hair, and this time, Zack let him. “Make sure you tell them, all right?” he said.

Zack pressed his lips into a thin line. “Okay.”

~ END ~

#zackweek #ffseven #zack fair #crisis core #final fantasy vii #final fantasy #fanfiction #ff fanfic #ff7 fanfic #zackweek2020

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paimon-more-like-paime · 3 years

Photo

My oc, Siro Isagani De la Huerta y Monterro. Occultist, demonologist, and master of the dark arts.

(I feel like I should note that I have used other people’s art as reference and help on how to draw his pose and also the bottom of his coat.)

Backstory below (warning: a lot of words).

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In a clearing just off the beaten path sits a caravan, and sitting on its edge is a young boy, his head crowned by four horns. He’s hunched over, his pale white eyes blind to everything except the large book on his lap. As he finishes the page, he raises his right hand, his only hand, pops the knuckles in his six fingers, and turns the page. Instead of the curvy serpentine letters like the last, this page is full of diagrams and circles and other sacred geometries. It racks his mind and if he was any other kid, he would’ve put this book down a long time ago, but he is his parents’ son, and he’s eager to prove his worth as such.

A small squeak emerges from his barong as a small fruit bat climbs out of its neck. It looks briefly at what its master is reading before deciding its disinterest and then lightly taps the boy’s face with the tip of its wing.

“I take it you’re hungry, Mana?” The bat nods her head and squeaks excitedly.

The boy pushes the heavy black-leather book off his lap and unfolds his legs to get up. As he opens the door, he chants a small incantation, and the book lifts itself up as if by a spectral hand.

The inside of the caravan is larger than the outside, just slightly though, just enough for his parents and him. As he walks over to the kitchenette, he gestures the grimoire over to the bookcase where it shelves itself neatly between other unmarked and half-singed books. With a knife and some pressure from his stump, the boy manages to peel and section an orange. As he feeds the pieces to his familiar, his gaze wanders over to the bowls of cold and uneaten arroz caldo he made for his parents earlier. It was not unusual for his parents to be gone for days, but they should’ve been back by now.

As Mana finishes the last orange slice and slowly drifts back to sleep, the boy picks her up and carries her over to his bed and lays her down on the pillow. When he turns to gesture to the bookcase for another book, his eyes find themselves wandering towards the window and he notices the sea of red and orange trees outside. Wasn’t it summer when they left?

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Before a circle of candles and black chalk stands a young boy, the same boy. Floating in front of him and held aloft by shadow silk lies an open book with charts and graphs and inexplicable math. He had stayed up nights trying to decipher its text, trying to find out what he needed to do.

The boy raises his arm perpendicular to his self. He doesn’t bother rehearsing his lines; he’s practiced them so many times before and he knows through and through. The boy chants, and when he does, the words come out wrong, they come out backwards, the candles roar, and the smoke bellows. The lines of the circle burn and the words along its edge scream themselves into existence. The air coils around itself above the circle and the smoke falls into its whirlpool.

His eyes gleam bright as stars and his lips curve up. A warmth of pride, something new, washes over him. I’ve done it! I’ve done it. When they come back, they’re gonna be so pr-

The words fall out of the air as blood and the incantations splatters on the ground. Acrid iron is all he smell and taste. The boy watches the portal fizzle and fade before his eyes as his spell fails, as he fails. The boy doubles over himself and he feels his legs give way to infinity. The ground is still there, but he feels himself falling and falling and falling into himself. All he can see or sense is dark and void lit only by bright and flashing stars and impossible shapes and colors. It is not too long after he loses consciousness that a man in black finds him writhing on the ground.

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In a room lit only by lavender-scented candles stands a horned man. The candlelight glints and glimmers off his many jewelry; from the adornments on his horns to his earrings made of fangs or to the gold agimat hanging from his neck. The candlelight also illuminates the relics he keeps in his room; his ancestors certainly were called “The People of the Knife” for a reason. Within the room are also bookcases and stacks and heaps of scrolls and grimoires and tomes, a few belonged to his father, who sought to preserve his culture. The last thing of note is the chalk circle the man stands before. If this was any of his other rituals, it would have had freshly-baked cookies and a cup of tea inside as a treat for the summoned, but this wasn’t any other ritual.

He’s done this one before, and he’s failed it before, but not again. His years studying under The House have taught him much and he has learned many secrets and arcana. Within one hand, within his prosthetic, he holds a kris, already dark with his blood, and he holds his right hand clenched. He glances at the clock on the wall, waiting for it to hit almost midnight, and then he makes his move. He raises his arm, holding it out, and lets the blood spill on the circle as he starts to chant;

Em evaelt nod esaelpe me volem

esiarp Emd ni fem otem ocuoy ge

bl Uoyot llacl do olbym fodoo lb

The candles flicker and flare and shadows dance. The air grows still as death, and just as cold, and it almost seems like time has died. A sudden gust of wind whirls in from nowhere and.. nothing. Nothing happens. Seconds long as hours pass as the man lets it sink deep inside, casting his head downward. He turns away from the circle, tries to let his disappointment pass, tries to not let it get to him. He fails like he always does. All he can think of is how much it hurts. He lowers himself onto the ground, hunched over, head in his hands, when he hears a voice as sickly-sweet as sugared poison.

“You know, Siro, you’re not as worthless as you think you are.”

Startled at the voice, Siro scrambles to the other side of the room, to the circle on the ground. His pale eyes flick back and forth between nook and cranny, tracing the outline of the room, trying to find the source, when he realizes his shadow stands tall with short horns and gleaming green eyes.

“It’s true, you know.” There’s a hint of familiarity, as if the figure knew him. A die rolls. It lands on one; he doesn’t notice. “You didn’t mean to summon me, did you? That’s certainly worth something to me.”

Siro, eyes wide as moons, gulps and gently shakes his head. “I didn’t. No. Y-you’re supposed to be in the-”

“And I take it you can cross realms, or learn to, can’t you?” If the figure had a mouth, it would’ve grinned. “And how much can you summon at once? Armies? Legions?”

Siro stares in silence at the shape on the wall as Mana squirmed beneath his robes. The imp knew who this was, understood the hunger in its eyes, but her warnings came out as nearly silent chirps.

“Staying silent? All right then, keep your secrets. Just know that if I” The shadow places a hand on their chest. “was your parents, I would be so proud of you. Even prouder of what you might become. What you might accomplish with me.”

“What do you know of my parents?”

“I know that they’re not here, are they? But I am. I answered your call. Your plea for help. Not them.”

“I said, “ Siro swallowed a breath of air. “What do you know of my parents?”

The shape grinned. “Perhaps I know where they might be. Perhaps I know how you might prove how worthy you are to them. Of them. Is that something you’re interested in?”

Siro looked down at his hands, closed his eyes for a moment, then looked back up at the figure. “I know how this works. What do you want from me? What’s your price?”

“Listen is all. There’s no harm in that, is there? You don’t even have to obey me. Just listen to what I say, and I’ll show you how to find them.” The shadow peeled an arm off the wall and held it out. “Is that what you want, oh conjurer of mine?”

Standing up, Siro looked through the figure into nothing, into the void, and contemplated what to do. His parents were heroes. They saved countless people, countries and kingdoms. Growing up the son of such great people was a privilege, he was told, an honor, and yet who was he but a failure unworthy to have them. If there was some way to honor them, to make them proud... Siro didn’t finish that thought. He looked back at the figure, at its hand, never noticing its six fingers, and grabbed it. It was as cold as death.

The clock struck midnight. “Well then, welcome Year Siro.”

#paime's ocs #paime's art #tldr: his parents neglected him as a child and his desire for love and praise is being used to manipulate him #i have like more detailed stuff for this guy but i want everyones backstory done first before i post it #anyways the last line is a pun #'Year Zero' is a song by Ghost about the antichrist

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agentsandbutterflies · 4 years

Note

Merlahad, as slytherin merlin and gryffindor harry rivals AU

This went very dark, very fast when I started to think about it (so be warned, there is character death in this one) but then it turned out it took forever to get there… I apologise for the delay.

I think this is the longest one I’ve done…

Harry is in the year above the Marauders

Merlin is in the same year as them and shares dormitory with Severus Snape

(Merlin pretty much hates his parents for naming him Merlin, because really? REALLY?)

They are both Pure-blood

The First Wizarding War starts Harry’s first year at Hogwarts

But he’s a First Year at Hogwarts and doesn’t notice a thing

Merlin is a kid in a Pure-blood family, he doesn’t notice anything either

Harry’s parents join the Order of the Phoenix in 1971

Merlin’s parents stay away from all of it

The older students start to talk and more and more Muggle borns and Half-bloods are getting worried about the state of the world

Harry tries out for the Gryffindor quidditch team but doesn’t get a spot

Merlin falls in love with charms during his first class

The first time they meet is in the Slug Club when Merlin is invited during his fourth year

Harry has been a member for about a year at that point

(Merlin is annoyed that Severus is there as well)

(Harry doesn’t know Lily Evans exists before she comes to her first Slug Club dinner)

(She knows he exists, though. All the girls in the Gryffindor tower know he exists)

Merlin’s not impressed by Harry’s habit of drawing attention to himself by always arriving late

Harry thinks Merlin’s a know-it-all

But they are Gryffindor and Slytherin, they are supposed to dislike each other. They have never questioned why, it’s just how it is and it makes life a bit more interesting to have an entire House to hate

The exception is of course Severus and Lily, but he’s weird and she’s too kind so, yeah…

Harry and Merlin sometimes exchange looks and roll their eyes at them, because at least they can agree that that friendship is odd

The war has been going on for five years when Merlin joins the Slug Club and it starts to creep into Hogwarts as well

Almost everyone worries, even the ones who pretend they don’t

Harry’s parents write less and less

Merlin’s parents write as if there is nothing wrong with the world

Slughorn invites them all to dinner and they talk about literature the entire evening as if people aren’t disappearing outside the walls

Yet lines are drawn, children picking the side their parents are on or breaking with their families

Hogwarts can’t save you from that

If the rivalry between the four Houses was all fun and games before it’s now part of the warfare – or so the students think

Three Houses against one and no one sees or cares about the second year Slytherin student who hasn’t heard from their parents in weeks

Or the fourth year who is too afraid of their classmates to speak their mind

Or the sixth year student whose sister is killed

Because it’s their own fault for wearing green and silver anyway…

Merlin’s grades are perfect and he becomes a prefect in his fifth year

He takes it upon himself to take points off Gryffindor whenever Harry is late for Slug Club

It’s seen as another Slytherin provocation and Harry challenges Merlin to a duel

It loses both of them enough points for them to eat alone at their respective tables for weeks

…but not enough for them to learn a lesson

The third time they are caught duelling they get detention

The fourth, the fifth and the sixth time too

The seventh time it’s Slughorn who catches them and he tells them that if they get caught again he will ban them from the Slug Club

If they get caught... there’s something encouraging in the way Slughorn says that

So the eighth time they meet in the Forbidden forest

The ninth time behind the quidditch field

The tenth in the Room of Requirements

It’s war practice under the guise of House rivalry

“I don’t think he’s right,” says Merlin one evening as they walk back from the lake, sweaty and exhausted. “Just so you know.”

“Me neither,” says Harry

When they are about to part, Harry to go up to the tower and Merlin down to the dungeon, Harry hesitates

“Can I write you over the summer?” he asks

Merlin smiles. “Yes.”

“Who is she?” Harry’s mum asks when there have been owls coming and going almost daily for a month

“You should invite him to the house in Elie,” Merlin’s dad says. “Your mum and I aren’t going there until 10th of August.”

So Harry goes to Scotland a month before he’s supposed to go back to school

It takes four days on the beach and half a bottle of fire whisky (unknowingly given by Merlin’s dad) one evening for their hands to touch

It takes about two seconds more for their lips to touch

It takes two days for them to leave the house again

Harry’s mum notices some very indiscrete marks on Harry’s neck when he gets home after his little vacation

She gives him her concealer and asks him to cover it up before dad sees it on her way out to do recon for the Order

Harry does and he counts the days until he gets to board the Hogwarts’ Express for the last time

Merlin keeps knocking points off Gryffindor when Harry’s late for Slug Club

Harry keeps challenging him to duels

They keep meeting in strange and secret places

They don’t spend the time duelling

Harry is getting by with his N.E.W.T.

All the teachers think he can do better, and he can, but his head is already on the battlefield

Because first it was Muggle borns, then Half-bloods and certain Magical creatures, then Pure-bloods considered Blood Traitors…

Harry takes muggle studies and knows that the step to round up the Gender Traitors is a small one

That’s what will make him join the Order of the Phoenix when he leaves Hogwarts

(It may be self-serving, but he’s 18 and he chooses to fight. No one would have questioned his motives, had they known them)

Merlin asks him not to

Only once

Because he knows he can’t stop him, but he won’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t at least ask

Harry goes to Elie for two weeks that summer

Merlin’s last year is a disaster

They have decided that Harry shouldn’t write him, because who knows what his House mates might happen to see

Harry writes Lily, though, the only other Gryffindor Merlin knows

(And quite frankly the only Gryffindor Harry knows who doesn’t judge a person after the colour of their House)

(He had confided in her about Merlin in the beginning of his seventh year because he needed someone to talk to and knew she wouldn’t judge him for the Slythering part of the equation)

Lily gives Merlin the updates at Slug Club and when they pass each other in the door in and out of Transfiguration

They become really good at exchanging folded pieces of paper without even looking at each other

“Still nothing?” Merlin asks at the Slug Club’s yearly Christmas party

Lily shakes her head. “I can write and ask Marleneif you like?”

Merlin declines, reasoning that it’s easier to worry than to grieve

Two days before the end of the semester, Lily waits for Merlin outside the Great Hall, pressing a note in his hand

“It’s good news,” she says with a smile before she hurries to catch up with her friends

It turns out to only be good news in the sense that Harry isn’t dead

Harry’s mum is, though, and Harry has taken a curse in the face, losing the sight on his left eye

But he’s alive, and because of his injury out of harm’s way for a while

Perhaps that’s what counts as good news in wartime?

Harry is back in the field in January

He’s young, he’s fit, and his practice with Merlin has made him really good at flinging curses

Losing his mum only makes him more sure that he’s in the right place, doing the right thing

Revenge is added to his motives

Dumbledore asks him to help with recruitment of Hogwarts students

Harry has no moral qualms about dragging his old House mates to the front line to fight with him

Most of the Gryffindors he reaches out to respond

The only Slytherin he reaches out to does not

Or he does, but it’s a firm “no”

In spite of that, Merlin still moves into Harry’s tiny one room flat after he graduates because there’s no way he’s going to stay in Scotland when Harry is going around being an idiot all over England

They are not even twenty yet

Merlin gets a job – entry level at the Ministry of Magic

He has the ambition of his House, he has good grades and he’s a Pure-blood, it doesn’t take that long before he gets a proposition from the Death Eaters

He accepts on the spot and goes home to tell Harry

The fear Harry feels when he hears this is worse than anything he has experienced during his now almost two years in the Order

“It’s not the same as with Severus,” says Lily when Harry tells her. “It’s not like he’s really a Death Eater.”

Harry agrees – trying to be a double agent is a completely new level of stupid

The information Merlin manages to pass on to Harry is good, but not worth dying over

(Something Harry points out repeatedly)

It takes 171 days for the Death Eaters to figure it out

Or it probably takes less, but it takes 171 days for them to act

Harry opens the door to a flash of green light one evening

Merlin doesn’t even think to search for his wand as Mulciber, who Merlin had shared his dorm room with for seven years, steps over Harry’s body with his wand raised

“Always knew you were a poof,” says Mulciber, “though I never took you for a Blood Traitor.”

Merlin turns to look at Harry as the Killing Curse hits him in the chest

Harry’s dad is the one who finds them two days later

With the help of Merlin’s parents he makes sure they are buried together in Elie

#Kingsman #merlahad #merlin (kingsman)#harry hart #kingsman au #au #harry #merlin #cw character death #cw death #my headcanons

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yoongi-sugaglider · 5 years

Text

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, possible future main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 3778

Part 2 === Part 3 === Part 4

A/n :Never EVER point a weapon at someone if you are unfamiliar with the proper maintenance and care of a weapon. Proper training and technique are the only safe way to ever handle a gun.What Jimin does in this chapter is dumb and should NEVER I repeat NEVER be replicated.

P.s: No this isn’t the last chapter :)

Everyone instantly went on high alert. Namjoon and Hoseok jumped to their feet, though one wobbled and almost fell in the process, as Yoongi and Taehyung pulled out their weapons.

The sound of bullets sliding into chambers as pistols were cocked rang through the air. A well trained and well oiled machine that was our group going on high alert.

“There shouldn’t be anyone out there, nobody knows where this place is.”

“I know that Jimin, we all know that.” Came Yoongi’s gruff reply. He moved over to the window, his glock held close to his ear as he peaked out of the blinds Jin had been staring out of only moments before.

“Looks like just the one guy, but what the fuck is up with the way he’s moving?” Namjoon had joined him at the window, weapon at the ready as well as he watched the stranger over the shorter man’s shoulder.

“Fuck if I know but there’s a group of people coming down the drive, looks like 5...no 6 people,they look scared.” Taehyung said this all with little emotion in his voice. This was just another job after all for our number one security technician.

Jin rounded the corner from the kitchen, eyes wide when he saw everyone’s weapons drawn. He quickly handed a cup of orange juice to a still barely conscious Jungkook before drawing his own weapon and heading to the window.

“What’s going on?” He whispered as he scanned over the scene outside.

“Fuckers are coming up the driveway. People that shouldn’t be here.” Came my curt reply. I moved towards the main entryway, glancing back at the heavily alert crew of gangsters.

“Jin, do me a favor and double check the backdoor, make sure the bolts are in place and then stay there. I don’t want anything sneaking up on us while Jungkook’s recovering.” I nodded at Taehyung who shot me a grimace that could have been mistaken for a smile.

“Namjoon, stay here with Hobi and Kook. Jimin I need you to get to a guest room and grab yourself a weapon.” The boys complied, each moving to their assigned tasks as Yoongi watched me with squinted eyes.

“Yoongs, with me.” He nodded, patting Kook on the leg in reassurance as he came over to walk beside me.

Together we made our way to the front door, both of us with weapons at the ready as I glanced hesitantly out of the peephole in the center of the door.

The view outside was muted, the single light on the front porch casting a sickly orangish hue over the walkway that lead around to the garage. I flickered my line of sight over the front lawn, noting the position of the shuffling form that Taehyung had mentioned.

“Looks like male, mid twenties. He’s holding his arm to his chest and walking like somethings wrong with his knees. Stiff almost.” I muttered to Yoongi. He grunted in return, knowing better than to make much more in the way of noise in case I needed to hear what was going on outside.

After a moment I spotted the group of people, all of whom seemed huddled together as they hustled their way up the drive. Most seemed to be holding a variety of makeshift weapons, heads moving around as if trying to keep an eye on everything in their surroundings.

“Looks like civilians. Don’t carry themselves like they know what they’re doing.”

“Think any of them have that virus?” Yoongi asked to which I shrugged in answer.

“Doubt it but that first guy. Something’s not right about him.” I watched as the scene unfolded.

One of the people in the larger group tripped and fell, attracting the attention of the limping man who turned instantly and seemed to crouch low to the ground, almost like an animal stalking its prey.

I hissed in a breath as I watched the thing move, fingers cold and clammy as they tightened around the grip of my pistol. The group of people hadn’t spotted him yet, having lifted their fallen partner from the ground and continued their way up towards what I could only assume was the safety beacon that was our porch light.

“Yoongi, hit the light.” I muttered, feeling the cold void of his presence as he moved to comply with my orders.

The light flicked off, plunging the lawn into darkness and immediately setting things into motion. The thing lurched forward with a scream, tackling the person closest to it as the group had finally and unknowingly come upon it.

The people scattered, abandoning the group in an every man for himself scramble to get away from the creature’s seemingly random attack. Most disappeared into the darkness, though one had managed to move fast enough to be able to huddle beside the railings of the stairs that led to our front door.

I chose to act, throwing back the latch and opening the door as I trained my weapon on the shadow shrouded creature that stood hunched over it’s fallen victim. Yoongi followed close behind, his own weapon trained on the figure that was huddled at the base of our stairs.

“Move and you die.” Yoongi growled, his voice fierce and commanding as he watched the huddled form tremble beneath his sights.

I’d moved down onto the walkway, approaching the crouched creature just to be greeted with the wet squelching sounds of some predator feeding on a carcass.

“The fuck?” I whispered to myself.

The creature heard me, spinning towards me in it’s crouch and bearing very human, and very visceral filled teeth. It’s eyes shone in the light from the house, seeming almost to reflect back at me in some greenish tint very similar to an animal’s.

It made as if to lunge at me and I went with my first instinct, feeling the cold unyielding metal squeeze beneath my trigger finger. A momentary burst of light blinded me temporarily and when I opened my eyes I was greeted with the sight of two human figures laying dead at my feet.

Taehyung strode from the house, smart phone still in hand as he made his way down the stairs and over to where I stood as I lowered my weapon down to my side.

“The others are gone.” He said and nodded his head over to where Yoongi stood guarding the trembling figure. “She’s the only one left?”

“She?” I asked with squinted eyes as I continued to stare at the figures on the ground before me.

“Yeah, she….what do you want us to do about this?” He wondered as he crouched down to nudge at the prone forms with the tip of his gun.

I shrugged, heaving a sigh as I turned to walk back to the house. “Burn them I guess. Don’t want the rest of us risking infection by having dead bodies around like these ones.”

Taehyung followed close behind, giving Yoongi a nod as he made his way back into the house, probably to recruit one of the other boys to help him carry the bodies away from the house.

I glanced over Yoongi’s charge, noting that the figure seemed to be wearing some sort of hospital gown before turning back to look over the wide expanse of our lawn. Nothing moved, but I made a mental note of the strangely ominous orange glow that seemed to flicker on the horizon, despite it only being an hour till midnight.

“City’s on fire.” I muttered before turning to stare down at the trembling form once again.

“Who are you?” I demanded, putting as much force and authority into my voice as I possibly could.

The figure moved, head tilting up and shining eyes finally meeting mine in a tear filled gaze.

“M...my name is Jeanette.” She whispered, arms tucked close around her stomach as she seemed to shrink in on herself to make herself smaller.

“And how in the hell did you manage to find this place?”

“I...we were coming down the road, running from the fires in the city when a group of the chatterers came down the road moving towards us. We ducked into some bushes hoping to hide and just sort of came across what...what I’m guessing is your driveway.”

“Chatterers?” I asked, head tilting to the side as if I were listening for a lie in anything that she said.

She nodded, pointing a shaking finger to the two corpses strewn out on the ground. “That’s what we called them. The things, the people that eat each other. They look like they’re dead but they’re not. Some of them get bitten and when they wake up all they seem to do is chatter. Like they aren’t in control of their jaw anymore.”

“Like one of those old wind up teeth toys from back in the day?” Yoongi asked, a dark smirk forming on his face.

She stared up at him a moment before looking quickly back over to me. “Exactly like those toys.” She brought her hand back to her stomach, clutching it like her life depended on it.

“If it’s just one or two of them it’s hard to hear. But a whole group you can hear from more than a block away. It’s how Dean heard them...How he warned us to get off the road in time to avoid the large group….”

She let out a choked sob, seeming to collapse in on herself as the realization of the situation slammed into her.

“Oh God Dean…”

I caught a glimpse of her finger, a small diamond ring glinting in the light flooding out from inside the house.

“He was your husband?” I whispered, earning myself a nod. “And I take it he’s the one that got take down by that...chattering thing?”

She nodded again, seeming as though she were attempting to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. “We were at the hospital, waiting on some test results when it all happened.”

“Christ you walked all the way from the hospital dressed like that??” Yoongi took off his pullover, bending down quickly to cover her with it in an attempt to calm her trembling and warm her up a bit.

It was the first time I’d seen him act like this towards a stranger and the action left me speechless for a bit as I watched him reassure the quivering girl.

I stayed silent as he helped her to her feet, hands gentle as he pulled the sweatshirt over her hospital gown and shivering frame.

“I...I had no choice really. We didn’t think. We just ran. The ER was a mess.” Her expression wilted at the memory. “People being brought in bleeding and screaming or on their way to dying.”

Her eyes found mine as her grip tightened on Yoongi’s arm. “My husband is...was ex military. He got the two of us out as quick as possible. We ended up along with those other people you saw us with. We just ran, didn’t know where we were going or how long we’d run.” Her voice broke as tears began to stream down her cheeks.

“We were just supposed to be here on vacation…”

I sighed, clicking over the safety on my weapon and tucking it into the holster at my side. “Come on we should get you…”

I was interrupted by the muffled sound of an explosion. Yoongi and I jumped into action, Yoongi pulled the woman into the house as my head darted around trying to find the source of the sound.

Off in the distant orange haze that came from the city dozens of flashes began going off, almost like lightning in a thunderstorm. With each flash of light the distant sound of thunder echoed, so much force behind the sound that I could feel it through the soles of me shoes.

“Sounds like transformers are starting to blow all over the city.”

I looked back to see Taehyung standing in the doorway,ever present cellphone in hand as he looked out at the glow coming from the city. I grunted, my dominant hand going down to rest subconsciously on my weapon as I turned back to the two bodies on the ground.

“Joon is heading to the storage shed. Said he’ll be round with the 4 by 4 in a few to pick up the bodies and burn them out back. Better out of sight and out of mind if you ask me.”

I nodded to let him know I had heard him, mind already racing ahead to the million and one things that still needed to be done in order to ensure our survival.

“How’s…”

“He’s fine.” Taehyung cut me off, already knowing what I was going to ask. “Jimin checked his blood sugar and he’s already a lot more alert than before.”

I nodded, heart slightly at ease in knowing that the love of my life was okay. “I don’t like this Tae. I don’t like any of this…”

He glanced over to me, a rare smile gracing his handsome features. “I know little sis. But there’s nothing to be afraid of. Once he’s back on his feet he’ll take charge like he always does and you’ll finally be able to rest. Remember you’ve been going at it just as long as he has.”

“I know.” I shrugged, free hand rubbing my forehead as I watched the flickering lights in the distance. “We’re together though...family sticks together no matter what. Right?”

“Hey…” Taehyung moved closer, his arm wrapping gently around my shoulder as he rubbed some warmth back into my chilled skin. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Regardless of what’s going on out there you have your brothers right here with you. So relax. We’ve got this.”

I couldn’t help the smile that ghosted past my lips. “So they’re your brothers now huh?” I watched him out of the corner of my eye as a blush crept up his neck.

“Yeah...well I mean…” He dropped his arm from around me, rubbing on the back of his neck as he tried to take on a nonchalant pose. “I meant we were your...I mean they were…”

“Mmmhm.” My smile grew as I grabbed his arm and tucked myself into the curve of his body. “You’ve been with us what...three,four years now?”

“Four, but I’ve known you for longer, so by association they’re mine.” He gave a half hearted attempt to pull himself from my grasp but my hold was relentless.

“Alright, okay, jeeze.” He gave a chuckle as he scratched the tip of his nose. “They didn’t care about my past. They just accepted some poor farmer's son slash hacker extraordinaire from the boonies into their ranks and let me work for them. They trust me to watch their backs. The least I can do is trust them too.”

“That’s my boy.” I stood on tiptoe, giving him a sisterly peck on the cheek. “Now come on, let’s make sure they don’t get into any more trouble. I’ve got a feeling there’s gonna be a lot more headed our way here real soon.”

***

Seeing Jungkook up and alert again had to be about the best feeling in the world. The stars in his eyes shone bright when they landed on me as i walked into the room and I couldn’t help the way my whole being lit up when he smiled.

“There’s my girl.” His voice was husky as he rose from the sofa, enveloping me in his arms in a warm hug that I could only describe as the feeling of coming home.

“You’re feeling better?” I asked in a hushed voice as I buried my nose into the dusky scent of peaches that wafted up off of his shirt.

“Mmm. Much better thanks to you.”

“YA! I did all the work!” Jin pouted from the window he’d been posted at.

“On the contrary. She did all the work, you just followed orders.” Jimin retorted. He’d paused in his work, Jin having been in the process of showing him how to break down and clean the weapon he’d chosen while also keeping a half an eye on the outside lawn from the window.

“Watch that firing pin.” Jin scolded, having been watching his student the entire time despite his outburst.

The weapons expert prided himself on his knowledge, citing himself as the best shot in the business despite Yoongi actually being the one to hold claim to that title. But that didn’t lessen Jin’s actual knowledge in the slightest. The man could take apart and put together any weapon or vehicle handed to him so quickly that sometimes it was mind blowing to even think that he was also the sweetest guy as well as hands down the greatest cook this side of the Red Sea.

“Sorry hyung.” Jimin hung his head and lowered the delicate part to the table gingerly as if it were a bomb ready to go off.

“Aish, don’t act like that. You’re doing fine, just pay attention to where you put it or there’s no firing that piece if you really need it.”

“Hey now, ease up on the kid. He’s used to saving lives not taking them.” Jungkook’s voice was gentle but firm, knowing that Jin didn’t mean to come off as harsh.

I reached up to pat his cheeks, returning his attention to me. “Are you sure you’re alright?” I asked with a quiet whisper.

A smile stretched across his face. His nose wrinkled and his eyes disappeared as his upper teeth pressed into his lower lip.

“I’m fine angel. Honest I am.” He opened his eyes to press a gentle kiss to my nose. “I really am sorry for worrying you like that. It won’t happen again I promise.”

I scoffed at that, attempting to pull my hands from his cheeks though he enveloped my hands with his own,forcing them to remain in place. “Don’t give me empty promises bunny boy. I know better than that.”

He chuckled and the sound filled my chest with a warm sense of comfort. He tilted his head and pressed his soft lips into the tender flesh of each of my palms,causing the heat to rise to my face.

Hoseok hobbled into the room and I was vaguely aware of the gagging sounds he made at catching us in such an intimate moment. He moved past the table Jimin sat at, bumping into it with the side of his hip and mumbling an apology to the flustered boy who scrambled to catch parts of the weapon he’d been charged with disassembling.

“Sorry kid. Stupid leg’s got my balance all jacked.”

Jimin shook his head, giving his elder a smile of understanding. “I know hyung, it’s alright. Just try and keep off of it? That’ll help the healing process kick in a lot quicker.”

Hoseok nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he wandered over and flopped onto the sofa beside Jungkook and I.

“Where have you been?” I asked him,pushing Jungkook gently back so that I could cuddle into his chest. Kookie wrapped his arms around me and I sighed at the feeling of strong wiry muscles wrapping their way around my form.

“I went to help Joon figure out how to best burn the two bodies without setting fire to the rest of the lawn.”

“He may be fucking smart as hell and the second best mechanic next to me but good lord is he a fucking mess when it comes to wrecking shit.” Jin muttered under his voice.

I looked over to him and quirked my eyebrow. “Second best huh?” I asked as I tried to cover a giggle.

“Damn right. I’m smart and handsome and the best thing that ever happened to this group of misfits.” Jin flashed a gloating smile, kissing his hand and blowing it in my direction without hesitation.

“Aish, you’re so full of yourself hyung.” Tae grumbled as he swiped through his camera feeds.

“And who exactly is going to disagree?” Jin grumped, allowing the blinds to snap shut as he stalked over to Tae.

“I am. I’m a better dresser and better looking by far than you. That’s all there is to it hands down.” Taehyung flashed his elder a boxy grin, flipping up two fingers and signing under his eye in a V shaped impression of his hacker code name.

“I will have the both of you know that I’m the one who gets all the ladies when we go out.” Jimin piped in, waving the now half assembled gun at everyone as he pushed back his chair and stood to pose amongst the three.

Twin shouts of “YA!” Echoed through the room and Jin and Taehyung both reached out to grab the shorter boy who dodged the both of them and shot across the room with a bright and cheerful giggle.

He raised the half assembled weapon, attempting to point it at Tae and allow the hammer to click into place. Jimin watched in horror as the slide literally slid off the gun, falling to the floor with a heavy thunk.

“But I...”

Hoseok burst out laughing, waving the barrel of Jimin’s gun from the sofa. I could only assume he’d stolen it when he bumped into the table earlier.

“But when did you even???”

“These children I swear.” Jungkook muttered as he shook his head before gently kissing the top of mine.

“I know right!” I answered, shifting a bit so that I could tilt me head and stare up at him. “You would swear you’d raised them since you were 15.”

“YA!” Jin shouted, skidding to a halt and abruptly halting his pursuit of the defiant and now irate doctor. “I carried you on my back all these years do you hear me?” Jin squared up, his broad shoulders on display as he literally pointed to his back.

“That’s no joke.” Hoseok piped in. “With those broad shoulders you could have carried the who crew on your back and still had space left over for a customer or two. No wonder Bangtan is the most feared name in Daegu.”

The entire room burst into laughter,Jimin and Taehyung having collapsed together on the floor in their fit of laughter and Jin’s windshield wiper laugh echoed around. Hoseok leaned into Jungkook as the two clutched at each other and I couldn’t help but smile in wonder at the family I’d accumulated.

Maybe Jungkook was right. Maybe it was better this way after all.

#bts #bts jeon jungkook #bts jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #bts jungguk #jungguk x reader #bts gang au #bts apocalypse au #bts zombie au #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts park jimin #bts kim taehyung #bts kim seokjin #bts kim namjoon #bts min yoongi #bts jung hoseok

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untilthenextencore · 5 years

Text

Kashmir Pt. 5 - The Mists Are Breaking~...

Written with @where-the-hot-springs-blow

Forever editing as usual~

Enjoy~!

...

Charissa studied Jimmy as Jimmy came closer & draped an arm around her leading her to the window where she took in the magnificent views they were then afforded after the onslaught Mother Nature had previously bestowed. Noting how he was losing himself to his thoughts, instead of answering his questions she only had a simple remark about the surprisingly tranquil post-storm scene before them. "It's so calm." There was a tiny crack near the hinge of the window through which she could smell the cool damp night outside. The night blooming jasmine coloring the breeze as it slipped through the crack & seemed to color her thoughts a hazy lavender shade similar to the mists shadowing the rich velvet night sky accented by the impossibly bright milky moon & stars above.

The breeze - however small - was strong enough to ruffle a few pages of Heston's book, causing Charissa to turn away from him & remove herself from his grasp with a gasp. "Oh! Your book!" She reached out to still the pages, palm splaying flat on them just as the breeze stilled.

Gazing down at the book now she noticed the title of the page now read "Amulets, Talismans & Charms". It featured detailed images of all kinds of little tools, jewelry like pendants & other jewels and the powers associated with them. She glanced at the list of jewels noticing that among them was listed one of her favorites, star sapphire. It was considered to be amongst the strongest of all, containing a bit of all the rest. Listed as being "All Element". Rather than just "Earth", "Air", "Fire", "Water", "Light" or "Lightning / Electricity". Her fingers toyed with a thin chain around her neck which held just such a star sapphire, though in all the havoc it had turned around & was then resting between her shoulder blades & underneath her hair.

"Hmmm... "All Element"..." She mused, before asking a question to no one in particular. "Guess I have good taste then, huh?" Giggling softly as she tried to lighten the mood which to her had gotten almost as heavy as the air outside.

She then noticed the moonlight flickering off of something to her left. Something on Heston's person. Turning her gaze to him she saw the glint coming from a jeweled pendant in his grasp that glittered from the cracks between his fingers. It looked so familiar, double checking the page beneath her fingertips she saw the reason why.

"Hey, your pendant looks just like the one in the picture here!" She tapped her finger on the illustrated figure image towards the margin of the page. Laughing she turned back to regard him with an incredulous grin at the coincidence when upon second glance & further inspection of the pendant she gasped. "Oh! Is that a star sapphire too? I just love those! Do you? I suppose it must seem cliche due to my name & all but I can't help it!"

Charissa then shifted the cloak to adjust her necklace, bringing the star sapphire back around, lifting it up slightly to where it glittered in the moonlight as well.

"I just bought this at a small shop not too long ago... I saw it in a display & kept doubling back... It was like I couldn't leave it alone... I couldn't leave the store without it... Like it was calling me... I had to have it... Even though I'm not usually that way about jewelry most times... This time was different... I had to have it... I had to buy it... I had to get it... To have it in my possession... I just had to... I don't know why..." She smiled before releasing the pendant to where it now laid just below her collarbones, still glittering, nodding towards the pendant in his grasp.

"Was it the same with you, Lord Heston? With that..." Then after another gasp that came as she regarded the glittering finery on both his hands. "Oh! And your rings too?"

...

Heston moved to where she stood by his book, placing one hand over hers atop the pages. With his other hand, he easily unpinned the pendant from his coat & laid it down beside their hands.

It was an golden, oval-shaped pendant with a stylised, multipointed star engraved upon it. At the tip of each star was a glittering star sapphire, shining brilliantly even in the dim light.

He fought the urge to turn it over, to reveal the portrait of her former self painted on the back of it, sternly telling himself that she must be the one to do it, that she must be the one to make the choice to touch it. Any less would have been him forcing his desires onto her, which he would have chosen death before doing. His beloved Starbright was sanctified to him, above even his own basest desires.

Instead he reached out & touched her own pendant, examining it closely, forcing himself to ignore the alternating chills & heat running throughout his body at the mere touch of it. It was so familiar, so beautiful...

His chest tightened further at the sight of it.

He'd not seen it in ages... Not since one of his more vivid visions of Starbright after her death where he pleaded for her to return & she promised that she would & she would bring with her a sign or signs if he so wished, proving it was indeed her. The pendant went missing from his collection very shortly after. No fingerprints were left nor was anything else disturbed in such a way as to lead Heston to believe either thievery was afoot or that it was just some sick prank. Everything was as he left it. And even when he turned every last house of his upside down, there was no sign of it.

It was gone.

His only comfort at the mysterious pendant's loss being that perhaps it would reappear one day as part of his beloved's promised signs.

And here it was, now around the neck of a young woman who bore a striking resemblance to his dear, departed beloved but who apparently had no knowledge of him or the Order he & his beloved once belonged to, nor any memories of it whatsoever. Heston was nearly a wreck. Yet somehow he still managed to find his tongue enough to reply.

"It suits you, Charissa. Hardly a cliche at all. I would think the real cliche would be if you hated star sapphires because of your name."

He could not help but smile, letting himself speak from the heart as much as he dared at such a delicate moment.

"It sounds as though you were made for this pendant. Or... Was it made for you?"

He gazed down at his hand over hers, his long fingers, surprisingly roughened & callused from early years of his initiate training, to the ring on his finger. He could see her eyes following its sparkle as well, looking completely fascinated by it.

"This ring... It once belonged to a very important person to me. I have worn it ever since she left me, hoping it would perhaps draw us back together. It is one of my most cherished talismans."

He allowed to see the matching one upon his left hand, the golden band engraved with his initials & titles.

...

Charissa looked down to their hands where they now joined, his over hers. She turned her hand to take his, bringing it up for closer inspection. The sight of the oval ring set of a similar urge within her. But it was a small spark as opposed to the raging firelike urge to possess the pendant she now wore. It had potential to grow but was tempered by the endearing, affectionate words he spoke about it & its meaning to him.

"It's gorgeous." As she spoke those simple words, the urge grew stronger, the spark growing into a flame. Her words seemed to vaguely echo in her head as a low hum started in the background.

Perhaps it was just in her head... Perhaps the echo was just a trick her ears were playing on her... Or they were popping... Perhaps the hum was just the house settling... Or the wind picking up outside...

Yeah, that's it...

Perhaps...

Perhaps the fact that her head was now feeling as if it were humming was also a trick her body was playing on her...

Or her mind...

Yeah, that's it...

Perhaps...

Still...

She couldn't shake the feeling that she was supposed to remember something just then...

Something...

Or someone...

It rang a bell deep within her...

Far off in the distance...

Perhaps that bell ringing was what that persistent hum was?...

Yeah, that's it...

Perhaps...

Blinking out of the daze that she felt she was in, shaking her head to shake out of it she let his hand slip from hers to pick up the pendant.

"And this..." At first contact the buzz grew louder, the bell ringing harder. She ran her thumb over the star, feeling as if lightning were striking within her head. As if that were what was ringing the bell.

"This... This... This... This is..." She stumbled slightly, the lightning flashes, bell ringing & buzzing staggering her.

She turned slightly away from Jimmy, facing the desk. Her right hand came down to splay on the desk - on the grimoire - to steady herself. Her fingers making contact with both the grimoire's teachings about star sapphires and his star sapphire pendant hit her like another bolt of lightning, making her draw in a shaky gasping breath, stumbling once more before righting herself, trying her best to blink & shake out of her sudden affliction once more, turning her attention back to the pendant, hushing.

"This is... Stunning..."

As those words left her lips she flipped the pendant over to the painted portrait on the back. Another sharp intake of breath coupled with a few more rapid fire blinks as she tried her best to focus, to clear her vision even though through the lightning flashes, the buzzing, the bells ringing & the heavy lavender tinged mists - like the heavy, late evening mists that still lingered outside, lavender tinged against the star studded & moonlit black velvet sky - she felt enveloping her all the more, she knew that she was seeing perfectly clear. She could tell as much by the familiar sight of Jimmy's ring on the left ring finger of the woman in the painting.

But still she couldn't wrap her mind around the image of the woman who wore that ring that now encircled Jimmy's third finger on his right hand. And so the obvious question came as she motioned to the woman wearing Jimmy's treasured ring clad in a dreamy, frothy, diaphonous periwinkle blue creation with what Charissa noticed to be another familiar piece of star sapphire jewelry.

"Lord Heston..." She hushed in a shaky voice amid even shakier breaths. "Lord Heston... Who is this woman? Who... Who is she? And why... If... If I may ask... Why... Does she have your ring?... Even my pendant... Seems... Seems to resemble hers..." She then gave another small, incredulous - if a bit weak and equally shaky - laugh. "How funny..."

...

She was remembering more now! He could almost scent the memories racing back into her mind, the confusion & disconnect between both lives clear in her eyes, & upon her face.

Ever the gentleman, his hands moved to her shoulders to steady her, give her a safe place to lean upon as she remembered.

"She is my beloved, my ageless, powerful Lady Starbright. This ring was hers, matched to mine, cut from the same pieces of gold & star sapphire. They are linked, as she and I are. As powerful as I am alone, with her we are twice that. She is twin of my heart. I have loved no woman quite like her ever since.

And yes, my girl, the two of you wear a strikingly similar pendant. You have a keen eye to notice it, don’t you think?"

Steadying Charissa, he led her to a sofa by the fire, all leather & velvets. Boldly, but with the greatest of gentility, he unwrapped her cape, exposing her only to the fire, rather than his eyes. Taking her hand in his, he kissed it again.

"You seem a bit fogged, Charissa. Please sit down, let your dress dry completely. You seem a touch feverish suddenly."

...

Charissa leant back into him, nearly melting with relief at his strong reassuring presence. She put up no fight as he led her to the sofa, nor when he removed her cloak, only leaning further into his embrace, head resting in the crook of his shoulder. She smiled weakly at the feel of his lips on her hand. Studying his fingers she gave a soft laugh, speaking in a soft voice that still seemed to echo to her. Was it only in her head?

"Have you not been sketching anything as of late, Heston? Nor painting? Shame. Almost never have I known these hands to be without at least a smudge of charcoal or a touch of paint."

Her gaze then lifted to regard his face, watching how the firelight & shadows danced upon his visage. Light and shade. Again she laughed softly & spoke in that same echoing voice.

"I almost wonder as to what you have been doing all this time, Heston? Apart from your usual frightening poor defenseless maidens as has been your reputation. I see nothing has changed except for your tactics. A hermit now, Heston? Roping the Hermit into it too now, Heston? Really now?"

Charissa then winced & pulled her hand back from him a fraction, the echo fading as she shook her head, looking down & away, suddenly contrite.

"No... No... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I... I'm sorry, Lord Heston... I'm sorry... Please forgive me... I... I don't know what I'm saying... I... I... I don't know why I'm being so rude... I... I... I just... I just..."

Her gaze then lifted back up as she laughed teasingly, reaching up to run her fingers tenderly over the soft, delicate skin just under his lashline.

"Your eyes are a bit puffy. And your face is flushed. Two surefire signs that you haven't been sleeping well. Are you tired, Heston? You always get flushed when you're tired. Even back when you were playing around on that little Berkshire houseboat hideaway on the Thames of yours Pangbourne, you did. You always did. It's a wonder how you aren't the one that's feverish. You never take care of yourself. Always holing up with all your grimoires & ancient scrolls & texts in your little library. I always had to be the one to help take care of you. You were always so prickly with the others. And we both know you were an absolutely mess at taking care of yourself whenever you got invested in your studies. Getting so sucked in... I bet that's what you've been doing in here too, isn't it? Hence the Hermit? You always were crazy about your magic. Weren't you, Heston? Silly about spells and all. Like a child with its favorite toy. You're just mad about it. Absolutely mad about it! Mad as ever. Aren't you?" She asked with another chuckle.

She then cupped his cheek, caressing the swell of it with her thumb, smiling at him in a way that was very much unlike Charissa but very much like another raven haired vision he had once known to have an affinity for star sapphires.

But still...

Nothing could have ever prepared him for the words that fell from her lips next. Just three little words. Just three. Just three words. But they were words which included a name which he hadn't heard in ages but which was music to his ears.

"Aren't you, Professor?"

#jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #untilthenextencore #led zeppelin fanfiction #led zeppelin fanfic

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atomicbark-blog · 5 years

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[Log] Manor Defenses

A Conversation about the Mansions Defences between Jay and Scratch ft @notasinglescratch

Jay

Jay had gone around the manor, checking over what she does daily and listing down on a piece of paper of what she believes would up the manors defenses. With every window, door, and floor (oh my) double checked she heads over to Doc's office. The order put vigor in her step and determination steeled her gaze, checking her list again she nods to her self, ears shoved forward in attention and tail curled husky-like along her back.

She rounds the corner to his office and pauses in the door frame, she hadn't sent him a message to see if she could come.. So she stands right there, not coming fully in and tilts her head slightly, "Hello, Sir. I've gone around and listed what I believe would help the manors defenses." Jay gently grips the paper in her hands.

Scratch

You've taken to leaving your door ajar recently. It tends to tell a lot about people, their reactions. Jay, as always, mild but determined, and a welcome sight after a dreary week.

"Come in, Jay. Let me see what you have."

You motion for her to sit and then hold your hand out, expectantly.

Jay

As he motions for her to sit, she does a small nod and finally steps into his office. She reaches over and hands him the list before sitting down and curling her tail around her waist so she can sit with her back against the chair.

"I keep the mansion pretty secure but I believe these would be able to help me with that, go from excellent to absolute."

She leans slightly forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she waits for his response to the list. The list reads: Locks for the inside of the windows, Motion detecting lights on the corners of the manor (I think these exist?), perhaps a camera system She interlaces her fingers an takes a slow calming breath.

Scratch

A quick glance over her list is all you need, short but concise, thats all right. You trust her instincts better than your eyes.

"Ill see you get what you need to make these improvements. Keep in mind any technology we add to the manor must be completely hidden from view." You take out a green pen and start making notes on her list.

"I trust youll be able to do that?"

Jay

"Yes sir, I understand that."

She tilts her head, glancing at the list as he writes, a bit surprised it's in a colour instead of the standard black. She notes that down in the back of her mind, right in the bucket of interesting but probably useless information.

She nods, "Yes sir, I'll be able to handle that just fine. I was figuring putting the cameras on the inside in the halls, accessing them from my phone. The lights will be outside, them turning on will catch my attention in an instant." Her tail flicks to curl around her waist the other way.

Scratch ...Cameras on the inside of the manor? An interesting concept. "Isnt it a bit too late if a camera tells you an enemy is in your base after hes already there?"

You cross something out and rewrite it. "I will get you a map of the manor. Choose a few locations where you believe cameras might prove useful."

Jay "If I'm on the other side of the manor and a camera warns me someone is else where I would be able to find them instantly and get there, perhaps even take them by surprise. It is just an extra precaution and would help me pinpoint their location if they manage to get in."

Seeing him cross out something makes her pause, is she being a bit ridiculous with this thought...? She mentally shakes her head. No, no, she'd being reasonable, a bank would do the same thing, and just as a bank many precious people things hole up in this mansion. She will ask for anything she believes would benefit this home.

"Alright Sir, Will do, I have a few areas in mind already."

Scratch Finished writing, you stand, moving away from your desk to a filing cabinet in the corner. You leaf through the pages until you get to the map section and take out a map of the mansion. Has it really changed so much?

After a moment you return, sitting as you set the map in front of her. "A fair argument. Here, use my pen." You hand her your pen, white and sleek, though it looks like its been broken in half and taped back together again.

Jay She gently takes the pen, the thought of accidentally breaking it again trips through her mind and she nods, not sure if she should say where she's thinking of placing them as she marks. Her mouth twitches down, let's go with staying quiet and explaining if asked.

She circles a back corner of each lobby, hallway, lounge, sitting room and dance hall, she places two circles in the library, making sure that the placement would have the whole rooms covered. She flips through the map again, making sure she marked the right places before offering the pen back. She would really rather not place cameras in the personal rooms or offices, privacy is key after all and she's interested in intruders no secrets.

Scratch When shes done you lean forward and take the map back, looking over her markings. Cameras in the manor...youre not sure you like that.

"I'll sign off on this under some conditions. One, there cant be any recordings or tapes. Keep it to real time footage exclusively. Two, tell no one. The calm has only just fallen, the last thing I need is the Numbers or worse looking over their shoulder every time they turn a corner."

You breathe a quiet sigh.

"Put that aside for a moment, theres something I want to ask you. Whats all this about a tattoo?"

Jay

"Yes sir, that works fully with me. I understand, I'll keep my lips sealed on this."

Jay look at the map, wondering if this is truly the right thing to do... well if a problem ever rises she could always remove the cameras. Looking at Scratch with a tilted head as he speaks up again, dread fills her to the brim, each word a heavy stone on her heart. Her ears pin flat against her head and she sits back, unconsciously wanting to space herself from the problem.

"I- um.."

She digs her nails into the back of her hands as she interlaces her fingers again, looking down at them. If Jay could go any paler than the pitch white she already is, now would be the time for that.

"Just something I considered, I like the meaning some tattoos can have and there are some really pleasing to look at ones.. While it would be neat to have a tattoo, I.. I know you don't want me to have one so you don't have to worry about me getting one."

She wonders briefly who brought this tattoo business back up to Doc, her tail thumps once against her lap in annoyance, way to hang her up to dry there.

Scratch You sit in silence for a moment, hands folded on your desk in front of you, a cool,easy expression on your face. Its easy enough to understand her desire, flashy things like that always look appealing to a young, impressionable girl.

"From what I hear youre quite serious about it, though. Commited, even. And not that I particularly enjoyed hearing about the tattoo, again."

You pause for emphasis.

"But I cant help wonder what design you had in mind. It must be something very important to be pulling your attention away from your work."

Jay Jay doesn't even look at him once, her head is bowed, ears pinned back and heart pounding so heavily in her chest she was sure Doc could hear it himself. It takes her a bit to respond as she swallows her panic and tries to ease her nerves. If this is the feeling she gets for just thinking about it and not acting upon it, she is sure she could never actually break a rule or order, she wouldn't be able to handle it.

She takes a deep breath and steels herself, keeping her head down.

"I don't know who brought this up to you, or where you heard it from, but..."

She pauses, it's not true, it's not true! She bites her tongue, not finishing the sentence. She does want a tattoo, and badly too. What's so wrong with that besides Doc telling her not to get one. Jay grits her teeth and shakes her head slightly.

"I am serious about it, but as I said I wouldn't go against you. Enjoying the thought of things is different than acting a part of it."

She glances up at Scratch, her green gaze firm under all the worry and fear on her shoulders.

"Everyone dreams after all.. And there is no way this is pulling me from my work, I've done everything everyday like I have for the past fourteen years, sir. Nothing comes before my job, ever..."

She sighs and glances down again, the design... of course. She internally grumbles in embarrassment. He's gonna think it's stupid of course.. Rrrgg.

"The design is phases of the moon down my spine with cherry blossom branches on the top and bottom. It's meant to draw attention away from the scars on my back, The moons are a tribute to my space aspect The phases of the moon each mean something different, and cherry blossoms are my favorite plant right next to a white lily."

Scratch

You can see youve hit a bit of a nerve in her. If she were not already made of nerves, that is, though she seems to be taking it on the chin. Good girl. You'll make a hound of her yet. As she explains her design, you give her a once over, trying hard not to picture your best girl with a back covered in ink. How incredibly unbeseeming. No, you cant allow it to happen. You might have at least considered if it was something classy and simple.

"I see. Well, if thats the case then theres no reason for concern, hm? You're a good girl, Jay."

With a thin smile, you fold the map and place it in your desk drawer. You dont blame Jay for her flights of fancy, if all were punished for desiring things the world would be empty. If anything you're more curious why Doze would bring it up to you if its causing Jay so much grief.

"I certainly hope this will be the last time we have to discuss it."

Jay A ray of hope, for a moment at least. 'You're a good girl, Jay' if only she could of heard just that over this whole tattoo conversation, though it does make you curious about something else you had in mind...

"Yes, sir. I hope so too, I have no intention of bringing it back up."

Rubbing the palm of her hand with her thumb she eases enough to look back up at him, ears drooped instead of harshly pinned against her dark green hair. She pauses for a moment. It's better to ask and know, right? She wants to try out short hair, and after all that can at least grow back, while a tattoo is irreversible.

"Sir.. May I ask something, while on the ending end of things I'm allowed or not..."

Scratch

Your smile dips slightly, and you return your gaze to her. Theres a reason youre so hard on her. Letting your creations develop too much of a personal identity is just asking for trouble in the future.

"You may ask."

You hope all this 'wanting things' is just a phase.

Jay "Am I allowed to cut my hair? I wanted to try out shoulder length hair.."

Seeing the smile falter on his face makes Jay instantly regret asking. Gosh where is her fucking blue and white cow plushie when she needs it. To avoid his gave she busies herself with smoothing out the fur on her tail.

Scratch There comes a bit of relief when she asks about her hair. Youll miss her lovely locks, but you allowed the same for the Handmaid once she began behaving. And shoulder length is far less drastic a change.

"Yes, I'll allow it. I think it will be a lovely look for you, hoo hoo."

Jay That.. She looks up at him finally for, with a soft smile she nods. Like rain washing things away, that easily rids her of the tattoo conversations tolls. Keeping down a sigh of relief, she swishes her tail behind her and interlaces her fingers again.

"Thank you, Sir. I hope it will be.”

Scratch

You smile fondly. Yes, you think that will be quite lovely. Youll have to look into getting her a uniform as well, something to match her coloring and new hair. Ribbons...

"Very good, thats that, then. I will get you what you need to set up the cameras."

Jay Jay smiles and takes a breath, tail thumping against the chair. Okay.. Okay, just easy business talk now. None of that stressful 'Hey you can't do this to your own body' talk. She sighs under her breath and leans forward with a nod.

"Alrighty, Sir.. Is that all we need to discuss for now?"

She tilts her head, ears flopping with the motion. 'Just.. let me out of this office for two minutes.' Her ears flick as she thinks to herself, 'Feels like a mountain of smoke in here, just need to get a breath somewhere else.'

#ic action #log #story post #notasinglescratch #(( hi i have not perished just busy an ded ))

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pulsarsmash · 6 years

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PULSAR’S TOP 10 FAVORITE ANIME OF 2017

PULSAR'S TOP 10 ANIME OF 2017:

Its that time again! Here's my ten favorite anime series of the past year. A few notes:

1. This is just one dude's opinion. If your favorite isn't on here, it's not personal.

2. I decided to include sequel series on this list after a few years of not doing that, because there were a couple this year that were so good I felt not including them would be unfair.

3. If I didnt finish a show, its not on here. Meaning there are a couple shows like Inuyashiki and Juni Taisen that, while I've liked what I've seen, aren't on this list.

Here we go!

#10: GABRIEL DROPOUT A consistently funny comedy about an angel who, after graduating from angel school and being assigned to Earth, discovers video games and ends up becoming a lazy bum. Meanwhile, her best friend, a demon fresh out of demon school, has the opposite problem: she's far too sweet and kind to be an effective agent of evil. This show is a lot of fun and features a couple great supporting characters (a demon with serious delusions of grandeur and an angel with a sadistic streak). If youre looking for some laughs, this is a great show to check out!

GABRIEL DROPOUT is available on Crunchyroll.

#9: KONOSUBA - SEASON 2

Imagine the gang on Its Always Sunny In Philadelphia launching a Dungeons & Dragons campaign. It would probably end up something like Konosuba.

I didn't think this show could top last season in ridiculousness and hilarity, but it pulled it off. This is one of those shows where your sides hurt by the end of some episodes because you've been laughing so hard.

If you aren't familiar with Konosuba, it revolves around a group of four would-be adventurers: Kazuma, a neurotic and slightly perverted NEET; Aqua, an incompetent crybaby goddess and healer; Megumin, a mentally unstable mage obsessed with blowing things up; and Darkness, a masochistic knight. These four are complete idiots and manage to screw up just about everything they try to accomplish... and you'll end up loving them because of it. Watch this one from the beginning if youre looking for a great comedy and like seeing the "sent to a fantasy world" trope completely turned on its head. Seasons 1 and 2 of KONOSUBA are available on Crunchyroll.

#8: PRINCESS PRINCIPAL

This show was 2017's dark horse, it seemed to fly under a lot of peoples radar. Which is a shame, because this is a very fun and inventive spy/intrigue series. Princess Principal takes place in an alternate version of Britain which has been split in two by war. A group of young women double as spies for the upstart commonwealth who are trying to unseat the monarchy. And their secret weapon? The country's own princess, who is in on the scheme. With awesome steampunk-inspired character designs, great action sequences and a story with continuous twists and turns that will keep you guessing, this show definitely deserves a second look from people who may have missed out the first time. Princess Principal is available on Amazon Prime.

#7: KAKEGURUI KAKEGURUI is another show that flew under people's radar in 2017, largely because Netflix decided to wait until the English dub was finished to release it in the US. But I can tell you it was worth the wait. This anime follows a young woman named Yumeko who transfers into an elite prep school in Japan, where the student hierarchy is determined through gambling. Yumeko quickly finds herself a target of the student council when it turns out that not only is she a VERY skilled gambler, she is also very good at figuring out if someone is cheating. And she may or may not be a tad bit insane. If you like over-the-top psychologically-intense shows like Prison School, you are going to love this anime. It also has my favorite intro of any anime in 2017. KAKEGURUI is available on Netflix in English and Japanese starting this month!

#6: SCUM'S WISH Most romance anime are very light and fun, or they are over the top to the point of self-parody. SCUM'S WISH is not one of those anime. This show is about how painful and unfair love can be. Two high school students appear to everyone to be a perfect couple. But the truth is they are both actually in love with other people (their teachers), and are simply using each other as a physical and emotional replacement. The characters in this show are not tropes, and they aren't necessarily all likeable either. One character I would almost call the best villain of the entire year in anime. But in the end, this show makes you care about all of them, to the point where you even want the worst of them to be happy in the end. Scums Wish is not a fun show. In fact, it is incredibly painful to watch at times. But it is absolutely worth watching. SCUM'S WISH is available on Amazon Prime.

#5: THE ANCIENT MAGUS' BRIDE A young woman named Chise is about to commit suicide when she is approached by a man offering to help her "find someone who wants her." Feeling that she has nothing left to live for, she offers herself up for auction, and is purchased for five million pounds by a mysterious individual who turns out to be an ancient mage. And he has selected Chise to be his apprentice... and his future bride. The Ancient Magus' Bride is an absolutely BEAUTIFUL show. There is a sense of magic and wonder to this anime that just draws you in from the opening episode and doesn't let go. And the relationship between Chise and Elias is fascinating. This show will likely top a LOT of people's best-of lists, and I absolutely understand why. The only reason its not higher on my list is it's only 13 episodes in, and there's a lot of story left to tell. I can't wait! THE ANCIENT MAGUS' BRIDE is available on Crunchyroll (subtitled) and Funimation (English dub)

#4: MISS KOBAYASHI'S DRAGON MAID A techie gets drunk one night, misses her train stop and ends up on the outskirts of town. She comes across a dragon, and being drunk, makes friends with her invites her to stay with her. She proceeds to go home, pass out and forget everything... until the dragon shows up on her doorstep the next morning, dressed as maid and ready to get to work. This for me was the biggest surprise of 2017. I went into this show expecting to drop it after an episode or 2, and ended up falling in love with its cast of hilarious and ridiculous characters. The relationship between Kobayashi and Tohru the dragon (which becomes more romantic over time) is absolutely adorable, and the supporting characters/dragons are all a ton of fun to watch. This is one of those series that just makes you feel good while watching it. Definitely give this one a shot! MISS KOBAYASHI'S DRAGON MAID is available on Crunchyroll (subtitled) and Funimation (English dub)

#3: ATTACK ON TITAN: Season 2 Attack On Titan, a show about a world where titans (giant humanoid creatures) threaten humanity's existence and have forced them into a giant walled city, is one of the most popular anime series of the past decade. After a four long wait, expectations for this season were impossibly high. Well, I'm just going to say it: Season 2 of Attack On Titan made Season 1 look like a kids show by comparison. This season ramped up the intensity and sheer terror to 11. Attack On Titan, in my opinion, is no longer a shonen-action series. It's straight up HORROR. And this is a good thing. The best thing about this season was the decision to split up the main trio of Eren, Armin and Mikasa and focus more on supporting characters like Sasha, Ymir and Krista. Ymir in particular went from being a background character to becoming the heart of the show, with her tragic arc being the center of the season's conflict. Fortunately, AoT fans won't have to wait much longer for Season 3, as it will be coming out this year! ATTACK ON TITAN Season 2 is available on Crunchyroll (subtitled) and Funimation (English dub). Season 1 is also available on Netflix and Hulu

#2: LITTLE WITCH ACADEMIA Originally a crowdfunded OVA, and then a sequel, Studio Trigger's LITTLE WITCH ACADEMIA finally received a full season this year, and it was absolutely worth the wait. This is an extremely fun and entertaining series about a school for young witches and a group of new students who have joined, including a young girl named Akko from Japan who loves magic, but doesn't appear to have much natural ability... until she discovers a magic wand that once belonged to a legendary witch named Shiny Chariot. Akko is instantly likeable and you will find yourself cheering her and her friends on even as they make obvious mistakes and get themselves into ridiculous amounts of trouble along the way. Her dorm-mate Sucy (who has a serious obsession with potions and isn't afraid to use her friends as guinea pigs for her experiments) damn near steals the show. And its a Studio Trigger show, so you know the animation is going to not only be great but exciting to watch, and that's definitely the case here. The show wisely takes an episodic approach for the first half, with the overall story arc coming into play in the second half of the series. LITTLE WITCH ACADEMIA is not just one of the best anime of the year, it's one of my favorites of the past decade. LITTLE WITCH ACADEMIA is available on Netflix in both Japanese and English.

#1: MADE IN ABYSS

I agonized for a while over whether to make this or Little Witch Academia #1. If you were to ask which show is more fun to watch, Little Witch wins by a landslide. But Made In Abyss is the show that simply would not let me go this year.

In a world where a mysterious chasm has opened up in the center of the earth, cave raiders delve into the depths of The Abyss, as its known, seeking out secrets and treasure of the world below. A young aspiring cave raider named Riko one day receives a letter from her mother, a famous cave raider who has been missing for years, telling her to meet her at the bottom. With the help of her new friend Reg (a human-looking robot Riko found while scavenging), Riko begins a treacherous journey to the bottom of the world.

MADE IN ABYSS is a throwback in some ways to the dark fantasy epics of the 1980s like The Neverending Story. But this series ramps up the darker elements of its story over time. Do not let the cute art fool you: this is NOT a kids show. This show goes places I never expected, and in some cases places I would never want to go back to again. This show never feels "safe" the way kids' shows are expected to. The central characters are always in danger, and one false move could get them killed... or worse. There are times where I had to pause this show in the middle of an episode just to decompress because I felt like I was about to break down.

Prepare to be terrified. Prepare to be heartbroken. And prepare to see the best anime of 2017.

MADE IN ABYSS is available on Amazon Prime.

Thanks for checking out my list. Let me know what your favorite anime series of 2017 were!

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avengers-nextgen · 6 years

Text

The Rise Of The Lost V

Bianca did not move from where she rested. Bucky carried her from the jet as if she were a child who’d fallen asleep on a long car ride. Everyone’s curiosity upon their arrival was nearly overwhelming but Wanda thankfully stepped in-sensing Bucky’s urgency.

The young girl was taken to the infirmary and immediately examined for any worrying damage. When none was found-aside from the spinal stitches which would inevitably scar- Bucky let out a sigh of relief. After a moment however, the silence became uncomfortable. He could almost feel Bianca’s apprehension and took it as his invitation to leave.

Just as the weight of the cot shifted Bianca’s broken voice arched timidly in the air like a broken bird. “Stay.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky still looked like a monster, he was covered in blood, his hair was wild, and his forehead was sticky with dried sweat. The look on Bianca’s face showed that she didn’t care at all. In this moment the poor girl needed something-no, someone- to ground her. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to suffer because of me.”

“It’s not your fault.” Bucky blinked in surprise at her words. All she’d ever done was blame him. “You wouldn’t want anyone else to experience your pain. I was stupid to think you would. Stupid to think you’d let someone make a monster like me.”

Bianca’s words were almost inaudible as she dissolved into dry sobs. She had shed all of her tears already. Bucky wasn’t sure what to do. He’d only had experience comforting Natasha who, for the most part, handled things herself. “Don’t blame yourself for their conditioning.”

But her crying gave way to something more. It was pure grief. She’d lost something, part of her humanity, and it wasn’t retrievable.”I wish they’d have just killed me.”

The statement sent a knife into Bucky’s stomach. He’d experienced all of those feelings before, the loss, the grief, the self hatred, and the anger. “It’s a good thing they didn’t.”

“I don’t want to be like this. I don’t even know what they’ve made me. I don’t even know who they are!” Bianca sobbed.

On the returning flight clouds had gathered and at last a clap of thunder signaled the inevitable rain. “We’ll figure it out. For now you need to rest and recover. After that I’ll tell you anything you have questions about, even do my best to explain things I don’t quite understand.”

— — —

While Bianca fought her own battles so did Sage. The first echoing of thunder froze her in a terror she had no control over. She’d been pacing anxiously, wandering if Bianca had returned, what had happened, had Bucky destroyed those responsible for Bianca’s creation? Lightning flashed in the windowed hallway ahead and the witch’s stomach twisted in distrust.

Alex who had gone to deliver the news, accompanied by Thalia, watched the odd phenomenon unfold. Neither of the heroes had ever seen Sage so panicked before. Her form dissolved over and over again and reappeared in a different portion of the glass container each time.

“She’s trying to get out.” Alex noted.

“It’s the storm,” Thalia noted grimly. “I should have expected it. Perhaps I could have given some comfort or warned her. I sensed it building.”

“Hey, there’s a situation out on the landing pad.” Orion, who had been floating aimlessly around the headquarters knocked lightly on the wall.

“What is it?” Alex frowned.

“Wakandans.” Scout called. He stepped up beside Orion and barely spared the other boy a glance. “They don’t seem enthused.”

— — —

“What is the meaning of this?” Siyanda frowned marching out into the rain to greet the Wakanda warriors.

“A situation has unfolded that needs attention.” Siyanda immediately located the owner of the familiar voice. It was rich and smooth and hardly held an accent much to everyone else’s surprise. “Your father sent us.”

“He did not need to.”

“Perhaps you should tell him that.” Acacia smirked. The warrior girl glanced about curiously and her eyes landed upon others rushing to the scene. It was instinct to draw the double bladed staff.

“What’s happened?” Alex questioned jogging towards the gathering. Thalia was close behind running with a lowered head to fight against the rain. “Siyanda?”

“Please address her by her title.” Acacia regarded Alex coldly.

“Title?” Thalia frowned pulling up beside Alex. “What title?”

“My official title,” Siyanda sighed,”is uneeded here. What is the issue?”

“Would you not like to speak inside away from this storm? It’s unflattering for you.” Acacia frowned giving the sky a detesful look. When Siyanda did not move the warrior continued. “Colonizers managed to steal half a ton of vibranium from a mine along the eastern border.”

The information immediately caused Siyanda’s shoulders to tense. “Could you not track them?”

“We tried,” Acacia’s expression took on a dark look, “all we found was a demand.”

“What was the demand?”

“They are requesting a transaction.” Acacia pursed her lips in thought. “A witch for our vibranium. Even more worrisome-they knew you were here. I could not remain in Wakanda without knowing you were safe. It seems you are in decent company.”

Alex wasn’t sure what to make of the warrior’s approving nod. “Thanks?”

“A what?” Siyanda frowned. A thunder clap echoed above and a heavy sheet of rain slammed upon them.

“A witch.” Acacia repeated.

“No.” Thalia blurted abruptly. “There’s nothing of the sort here. You’ve been miss informed.”

“Are you lying?” Acacia frowned and regarded the Asgardian. Thalia swallowed hard beneath the intense gaze.

Heavy footsteps pounded into puddles on the landing pad as Nathaniel ran out into the rain. “Alex, we gotta get Sage away from any source of the storm. She’s going completely out of her mind-I’ve never seen a witch hate rain so much in my life.”

Silence settled like a heavy blanket. Acacia’s eyes smoldered in anger and her glare flickered to Thalia. “Lying to the royal guard is an extremely unwise decision.”

“Nathaniel, always one for bad timing.” Alex growled. In less than a second both Thalia and Alex were sprinting off to enter the building once more.

“I hate it when they run.” Acacia sighed. With an elegant wave of her electric staff she pressed it into the ground. Electricity arched through the water in a vengeance. Nathaniel fell victim in a heap of steaming clothes. Alex was blasted clean into the air and into the side of the building. Thalia was unharmed.

Her father made certain that her boots were made of insulating material strong enough to withstand the worst of lightning strikes.

“How-“ Acacia didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence before a blast of red knocked her flat.

“You don’t get to show up and pick a fight with my friends!” Scout glanced worriedly at Nathaniel who was the closest to imenent danger. “Whatever you want you’re not getting. Leave.”

— — —

“What’s happening out there?” James yelled having pulled on his suit and equipped two very dangerous blades. Thalia didn’t explain, she only kept running.

“You’re kidding me.” Tony sighed tromping towards the commotion outside equipped in his suit. “They always have to make things difficult don’t they?”

“Wakandans?” Vision mused drawing up beside Tony, “It’s in their nature.”

— — —

Thalia leapt the platform railing with ease landing beside the containment cell that harbored her cousin. The sight made her heart ache with sadness. Sage was afraid of storms because of her father. And for reasons not her fault Thalia couldn’t help but feel responsible.

With a set jaw the asgardian drew her twin blades. The leather grips were slick from water running down her clothes and dripping onto the weapons. The sound of running in the hall made her tense.

Alex had recovered from her ordeal and dove over the railing in a panic. She crashed painfully onto the ground where an audible snap indicated a dislocated shoulder. Just as the poor girl crawled behind cover the railing overhead was blasted apart.

One of the elite warriors came running into the room. Her eyes landed on Thalia. “Step aside warrior, I will only warn you once.”

“And I will not be pushed around for a second time,” Thalia replied. “You will not be completing this mission as you planned.”

“Then it appears we have no choice.”

— — —

“You’re a witch too?” One of the warriors questioned as they regarded Scout.

“No, if anything I’m a warlock, and this isn’t magic.” With his eyebrows drawn together in concentration Scout swept the warrior aside.

Vision darted into the fray to quickly retrieve Nathaniel before returning safely inside. Tony did the opposite.

“Alright guys, let’s have a nice calm chit chat inside. Sounds nice yeah?” When a blast of blue energy arched in his direction he was forced to dive to the side. “You know, that was really rude.”

— — —

Thalia was confronted not by two other guards alone but by the royal guard chief as well. Her blades were a flash in the flickering light from the storm outside. Alex attempted to help but was only pushed back and remained on the outskirts.

A blade scratched across the asgardian’s face leaving a deep gash to ooze blood in its place. A growl echoed in the space and a black blue arched through the air in an elegant twist. Landing without a sound a flash of silver claws was followed by weapons clattering to the ground.

When all had stilled Thalia looked wide eyed at the panther suited figure who held Acacia aloft in one hand. “Enough!”

“You disobey an order from your father?” The guard held a look of betrayal on her face. The expression made Siyanda’s chest ache.

“This is not the way. Not like this. You will not take another’s family in such a violent manner.” Siyanda shook her head. Thalia stared at her friend in surprise. She had advocated to get rid of Sage from day one and now was turning against her own people to defend the very person she so avidly hated.

“She is a murderer.” Acacia grunted.

“She is human.” Siyanda protested. Their was a vulnerability in her voice that Thalia had not heard before. “I have learned one thing since being here, my dear. No matter where you come from or who you choose to be we are all people!”

Silence settled once more and Siyanda released Acacia though it seemed to take a lot of effort. Only Thalia noticed the silent sob. It was indicated by the shake of the shoulders. “You may leave now.”

“And what of your people?” Acacia would not meet the princess’ eyes.

“I will not neglect them. Have faith in me.”

“I have always had faith in you.”

“Then you will go. Now.” There was a firmness in Siyanda’s voice that came from years of training to take the throne of Wakanda, but there was an unsteadiness to it. “I have much to think about. For instance, why Sage is so entangled in every plight we face.”

— — —

Alex’s shoulder was patched up, Nathaniel spent a night in the hospital just to be monitored. Scout was left in disbelief in all that had happened. James began digging for information upon Siyanda’s polite request. Thalia remained outside of her cousin’s prison. Sage had not ceased her phasing in and out of physical form for hours. Thalia was certain she would wear herself into an exhausted oblivion.

A small part of Thalia feared that they would be back. That someone would inevitably snatch Sage away while she could not effectively defend herself. Bianca was the only other one to visit. Alex was to remain in bed upon her parents’ orders, and even curious Scout did not slink by.

Bianca watched Sage with a sad expression. “Sometimes I think she forgets how deeply wounded she really is.”

“‘Tis her pride.” Thalia noted with a stained voice. “It runs in the family. They have not locked you up again.”

“I-well, I have decisions to make.” Bianca swallowed hard. “I’m afraid that, should I do as I feel is just, she will hate me more ruthlessly than your father.”

“For that I am sorry.” Thalia felt tears prickle at her eyes. “Is it wrong to hate my maker?”

“No.” Bianca shook her head. “Many people hate their father’s.”

“I wish he had not caused so much pain.” Thalia who was always so strong began to cry. “It hurts more than my cousin. It hurts me deeply too.”

“When one is hurt the ripple expands to many beyond the intended target.” Bianca gave Thalia an empathetic look before leaving the warrior behind.

The warrior was left to cry herself to sleep. The storm raged on well into the night and it was under the disguise of thin darkness that Siyanda, tired and sad, in nothing more than rumpled pajamas, slunk into the containment facility.

She paused to observe the source of her troubles. She hated the witch for so long but listening to Thalia talk had given her a new perspective. It was not entirely Sage’s fault for who she had become-and Siyanda could no longer hate her. She had spent hours second guessing her decision but decided in that moment that she had made the right one.

Thalia, honorable as always, was still standing guard even in sleep. Siyanda carefully set the dual swords aside and leaned back against the thick glass. With care she shifted the sleeping girl-who was unwakeable when properly resting- to rest between her bent legs. Thalia leaned back against Siyanda’s chest as the princess slung her arms lightly around the torso of the asgardian. She rested her chin upon tossled blonde hair in contemplation. “What have you done to me Thalia Odin?”

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