Tumgik
#i came to this battle fully prepared and i was not disappointed
lets-try-some-writing · 10 months
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I had to ask this bc your teacher Optimus AU has me by the throat.
How would Optimus handle students or faculty who are just plain assholes to the people around them? I can’t help but think that it would be less of a righteous fury (oh he’d definitely be angry, but not just angry) and more of a mournful pity. You are so young, so small and so few in your years, he might think. Why would you give them all to misery? Why do you choose to see only the darkness in peoples hearts when there is so much beauty left in your world?
I'm so glad you like this AU! It similarly has me in a chokehold demanding I write more XD Also love this whole thought of Optimus being so old that he can't even really be mad and just disappointed.
Previous part here.
Children, All of Them
As a general rule Optimus greatly enjoyed his job as a teacher. It was a welcome relief from the weight of war and the burden of his position as Prime. It brought back old memories of better times when he was just the Head Archivist working cycle in and cycle out to teach and to catalogue. Being able to share the joys of his passion and the history of his people was something he found no end of happiness participating in. It certainly helped that many of his students and co-workers were wonderful people either just trying to get by or working hard because of their love for learning or teaching.
However not every student and faculty member Optimus worked with was a ray of sunshine.
He was well aware of the fact that he would likely have less than pleasant individuals around him at times. As such he had long prepared himself to handle aggression in the way that such feelings normally presented themselves on Cybertron. He was fully prepared to endure unsettling EM fields, threatening messages, non-verbal insults, quiet battles of wit, subtle touches that were intended to be painful, and much much more. On Cybertron aggression among the more civil members of society was always a near silent affair and never made explicitly public. It was always a dangerous game played between the involved parties and no others, at least if one knew the rules of high society.
Optimus was ready, that is until he came to the rather saddening realization that these humans, these infants in his mind were far less reasonable in expressing their distaste.
Every student and co-worker of his had bad days, it was to be expected and he always did what he could to help them. If a fellow teacher was stressed with work, he would take some of it from them and help them get things in order. If cleaning staff were stuck with too much to do and feeling disheartened, Optimus would remain behind long after hours to assist and bring out some snacks for them to thank them for their efforts. Almost the entirety of his paycheck went straight back into gifts for his fellow teachers and his students. He just wanted them all to be as happy as possible as they worked. Teaching and study should be fun, not a struggle just to endure.
His efforts usually solved the problem fairly quickly, however there were a few individuals who just refused to be reasonable.
The vice principle was a piece of work and reminded Optimus far more of a youngling just getting a taste of power for the first time. The man was strict, demanding, and made it his life's mission to try and find a way to force Optimus to teach traditionally even if it was less effective. For whatever reason he despised the way Optimus taught and the level of sympathy he showed to his student. Optimus of course held a degree of understanding, but was also left confused as to why. What was so wrong about children enjoying his teaching that it would cause the vice principle to dislike him so much?
His efforts to reach out to the vice principle and try to smooth out any misunderstandings only ended with threats of being fired. Optimus was not unaccustomed to people abusing their power, and so he let the situation be and instead focused on his students. However as the vice principle kept on digging further and further, trying hard to find a reason to get Optimus fired, the time for remaining inactive ended.
Thus one day he stepped out with the vice principle and went with the man to his office to talk. The vice principle was so very smug when he sat down thinking that Optimus intended to concede and give up his way of teaching. However instead Optimus pulled out an old datapad he had resized and styled and pulled up images of earth in all its beauty. Many of the pictures were of children laughing and playing, learning, growing, and overall enjoying life. The vice principle didn't understand and was prepared to lash out when Optimus allowed a hint of his nature to shine through his holoform. EM fields could not be sensed by humans the same way they were by Cybertronians, but the waves carried emotion and tone well enough to be vaguely felt.
Optimus: Why do you struggle so bitterly against my teaching methods?
Vice Principle: Its against protocol and makes the students more unruly! They need discipline and control, not fun and games!
Optimus: Children are just that, children. They are unburdened by the woes that come from age. They are pure and see the world in such an innocent way. They will lose that gift as they age, yet you wish to strip it from them sooner?
Vice Principle: What are you on about?
Optimus: Children are a gift, a glorious one that must be protected and tended to with utmost care. While yes, children do need a firm guiding hand to ease them along the path of life, they deserve the chance to enjoy their freedom while they have it.
Vice Principle: This is school! Not a playground! It is not a place to goof around, it is a place of learning!
Optimus: Yes, it is a place of learning, thus it should be adjusted to suit the children should it not? It is the greatest honor and burden one can bear to have the chance to mold the minds of the youth. They are our future, and having them live without joy will only induce a cycle of depression that will continue onward with them.
Vice Principle: I'm your superior! Just do your job and stop making a mess of things!
Optimus: Why is it that you dislike seeing the children joyful? Are you fearful that you will no longer be respected if they are not treated like young soldiers? Respect is something that is earned and gained through trial and action, not mere titles.
Vice Principle: This is slander!
Optimus: Is it? Your lives are so very short. Your world is beautiful and unmarred by the ravages of a war greater than you could ever understand. Appreciate the little joys in this life young one. It will not last, and neither will you.
Vice Principle: GET OUT!
Optimus got nowhere with the vice principle and he couldn't even bring himself to be truly angry at the man. He was youthful, drunk on power, and desperate to have as much control as possible. He was a product of the broken system of education he tried so hard to enforce. He was just like the delusional mecha that lorded over Cybertron, thinking themselves greater than all others purely because of their titles.
It was disappointing, but there was little Optimus could do if even his presence as a Prime did nothing to sway the man. More than anything else, he felt pity for the man. He was just a sad human who had not the years to know his actions nor the wisdom to be able to observe and see as Optimus did. A broken child lost in a broken system that he had never escaped from.
How very disheartening.
Of course the issues were not just with the vice principle. There was one other human who simply could not be consoled or convinced to behave, that being the boy who called himself Vince. He was a cocky, overclocked, and overconfident young man who had no issues flaunting his possessions and skillset even when it was the wrong time. He was exactly like the nobles back on Cybertron, and that brought a sickening sense to Optimus's mind at the thought of the boy turning out just like the cruel nobles that doomed his homeworld. He did not want to watch this infant race doom themselves through the same methods his people had.
They were still so young, so innocent, and lived lives far too short to be wasted on such foolish things. It hurt his spark and made him angry in a more disappointed way than anything else when he watched Vince harass his classmates and flaunt despite performing poorly outside of his motor skills. He was not fond of the child's seeming obsession with going after Jack who was one of most successful students. There was no reason for the behavior other than the fact that Jack showed an interest in getting a vehicle while Vince already had one. There also appeared to be an underlying conflict over courtship for a young female, but to Optimus it was ridiculous. The children were far too young for that. The behavior needed to be cut at the bud before it could grow into something like the vice principle.
Thus he took the boy aside after school one day and sat him down. Vince of course offered no respect whatsoever and only served to make Optimus sigh. So young, so foolish, and so very arrogant. The boy needed a wakeup call before things got worse for him later down the road.
Optimus: Vince, do you know why I pulled you aside?
Vince: No, but its probably for something stupid.
Optimus: You've been treating everyone around you poorly. Don't think I haven't noticed.
Vince: So what? They're all losers anyway!
Optimus: That is not a good way to view your peers child. They are all gifted in their own ways, just as you are.
Vince: Of course I'm gifted! I'm one of the best racers in Jasper! Those nobodies can't stand a chance against me!
Optimus: You put so much pride into you ability to race. Why is that? Do you fear being unable to succeed elsewhere? Or is it perhaps a false sense of entitlement?
Vince: What do you know old timer? You look like you walked off a movie set from world war 2! I bet you can't even drive more than twenty miles per hour without putting your hazard lights on!
Optimus: You are so very arrogant. Do you not realize just how harmful this mindset is?
Vince: Whatever old man!
Optimus: ...
Optimus: If that is how you wish to behave, then I will not stand for it. If you want respect, you must earn it. Get your car, I will prove to you that your pride is misplaced.
Vince: What? Are you serious?
Optimus: I am completely serious. Meet me out at the tracks and I will make my point.
Vince was shocked, but Optimus paid it no mind. Vince was a child that would only learn through force, and Optimus was not afraid to use it. Thus he absorbed his holoform and moved his real frame out. The team were bewildered to the point of Bumblebee tagging along just to see what was going on and report back. Not a spark expected half the school to be out at the tracks with Vince waiting with his sports car.
Optimus had his holoform step out and Vince gave him a look that screamed of confidence. He was so very sure he could beat Optimus with his vehicle, but Optimus merely shook his held and got into his vehicle as a student readied an airhorn to signal the start of the race. Bumblebee watched from his own holoform in confusion but also a bit of awe as Optimus obliterated Vince without even trying. The boy was left defeated and bitter to the point of marching off before Optimus could get a word in.
The legend of Mr. Pax grew and he was given a fine for misconduct, but beyond that Vince continued to be rude to all his classmates. However surprisingly he left Optimus alone and stopped what he was doing whenever Optimus came near. It wasn't much, and honestly it didn't fix much, but it was improvement to a degree.
The humans were so young, yet so bitter. They were so hopeful, yet so prideful. They were the embodiment of younglings just getting their pedes under themselves.
Children, all of them.
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ghostiebeech · 11 months
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Mushy May Day 6 (Cowbell fics): Snow day
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Hiiiiii. We are getting a bit behind, but I really like this one.  I wish I could’ve seen this group perform, precious little shits they are.  This one is kinda from the perspective of Ifrit, I love that big boobied bitch sm.  
Rating: General I guess.  There’s cursing and mentions of being *aroused*
Pairing: mentions of just pack love, some Dew/Aether, Cowbell/Mountain, etc.
Characters: Ifrit, Cowbell, Dewdrop, Aether, Mountain, and Zephyr 
Word Count: ~900
Summary: It’s snowing at the ministry and Cowbell wants to go outside now bitch
Like always I did not proof read this so if you see something weird no you didn’t :D
Ifrit was having a rather nice dream when he was awoken to an excited Cowbell jumping in their bed.  The fire ghoul tried to roll over onto his stomach and go back to sleep but the little shit was having none of it. Cowbell delivered a rather forceful slap to Ifrits ass which did not help his current situation one bit.
“Please baby bell, I was having such a nice dream.”
Cowbell delivered a few more light smacks until Ifrit lifted his head to look back at the insistent ghoul.  Cowbell was excitedly pointing out the window at a winter wonderland.  Ifrit could see now the other ghoul was bundled up in an assortment of the pack’s clothes.  A hat knitted by Aether, one of Zephyr’s scarves, and a huge jacket that must be one of Mountain’s.  
“You want to go play, huh?”
Cowbell trilled happily before hopping on the fire ghoul’s bed and began rummaging through his closet to find snow clothes, obviously not wanting to waste another moment. 
Before Ifrit was fully awake, he was in the common room where the rest of the pack were in similar states, bundled with sleepy eyes.  Ifrit could hear Cowbell in Mountain’s bedroom, saving the earth ghoul for last.  It took quite a lot of balls to wake a sleeping giant, but surprisingly Mountain came out of his room, gremlin stuck to his back, with a big smile on his face.  
Cowbell jumped down the Mountain’s back and took off to go outside.  The rest of the pack followed with varying levels of excitement.  By the time Ifrit made it outside, it looked like a stampede had gone over the fresh white snow.  Cowbell was hunched over near the trees adding to a surprisingly already large pile of snowballs.  They looked lovely, cheeks rosy from the cold.  Before Ifrit could admire the ghoul anymore, he was hit square in the face with several snowballs in quick succession.
The culprit, looking about as angelic and innocent as a demon could be with his long hair in two braids under a pink beanie complete with a big pom pom, was Dewdrop.  Ifrit dropped to the ground to prepare his own arsenal, watching the tiny water ghoul run away to hide behind Aether.  Ifrit locked in on his tiny target, but before he threw his snowball, he was hit again in quick succession, this time by Cowbell, who ran to duck behind Mountain.
The snow battle continued as such for about an hour.  Aether and Mountain were unsurprisingly roped into the side of the gremlins. Ifrit really couldn’t help but think how unfair the odds were, four against one.  He called over to Zephyr for aid, but the older air ghoul just shook his head in amusement, preferring to watch the battle from the safety of the doorway as he nursed a cup of tea.  Ifrit finally waved the figurative white flag, “Mercy! Please! It’s too damn cold.”  The fire ghoul fell down to the ground, chest heaving in exertion.  
The gremlins whooped at their great win running over to Ifrit and jumping on him.  Before the ghouls could continue their battle via wrestling, Zephyr, who had gone back inside a while before, yelled to the rest of the pack, “Inside now, little devils!” Cowbell and Dew groaned in disappointment before being bribed with hot chocolate.  
True to his word, Zephyr had steaming cups of hot chocolate ready for everyone as they came inside, shedding their wet outer clothes.  As they finished their drinks, the ghouls went back to their respective rooms to change into warm comfy clothes.  The pack found themselves back in the common room, throwing on a movie and cuddling.  
Ifrit found himself at the middle of the ghoul pile, bracketed by Dewdrop and Cowbell who both wrapped themselves around Ifrit’s warm body.  The two smaller ghouls were spooned by Aether and Mountain respectively.  Obviously exhausted by their victory, the two smaller ghouls quickly fell asleep, purring happily.  They were followed quickly by the two sleepy giants who were curled around them.  Ifrit himself did not sleep right away, preferring to bask in his love for his pack.
Dewdrop had his head shoved into Ifrit’s pec, lovely hair falling over his face.  Ifrit reached over, gently tucking the soft locks behind his ear.  Cowbell was subconsciously kneading into Ifrit’s side.  Behind Dewdrop, Aether had his head shoved into the back of Dewdrops, happily suffocating in the smaller ghoul’s hair.  Mountain was completely curled around Cowbell, snoring loudly.  
Ifrit could feel tears welling up in his eyes.  He tried to quickly wipe them away when he made eye contact with Zephyr who was watching the group.  Zephyr himself looked upon the group with a mixture of love and sadness.  Ifrit knew he was thinking the same thing as him.  This would not last forever.  Ifrit and Zephyr knew they were temporary band ghouls and any day could be their last.  
Zephyr smiled at Ifrit, walking around the group to lay down at their heads.  Ifrit leaned back, resting his head on Zephyr’s soft belly.  Gentle claws found their way into the fire ghouls hair.
“I am going to miss this.”  Ifrit could feel tears start to swell again, overwhelmed with his affection for his pack.  He let out a wet laugh, “I would let those two beat the shit out of me with snowballs every damn day if it meant I could keep them forever.”
“Everything must come to an end, firebird…”  Zephyr reached down, cupping Ifrit’s cheek, “It’s what makes these moments even more precious.  It makes each one of you all the more precious.”
Special thanks to @forlorn-crows​ for compiling the list of prompts.
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lily-radiance · 1 year
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Even Flowers Can Bloom In The Winter- Bleach- Aizen, Byakuya, Grimmjow and Ulquiorra x reader
Chapter 3
/Click for chap 1/ chap 2/
Taglist: @erensl1ut @chrissie2003
"What's going on in here, lieutenant Abarai -"
Captain Hitsugaya had walked in, immediately ready to grab your wrist if need be, but you allowed the blade to blow away, specks of snow dissipating entirely as the shorter captain was disappointed.
"Lieutenant Abarai, you may leave us. Go about your duties." Toshiro instructed indifferently.
The door shut behind your colleague, leaving you alone with your superior. 
"Lieutenant (L/N)...."
His tone had changed, becoming softer as he approached the bedside, trying his best to keep you calm.
"I know what you're going to say Captain, that I should be resting, using this time to recuperate, but I'm telling you I felt fine during the training, honestly."
He breathed out a sigh at your prepared speech, shaking his head.
"I don't personally hold you responsible for this, and I do understand your frustrations with Captain Kuchiki, but pushing yourself to exhaustion, hiding information, and raising your blade towards your colleague, is inexcusable."
You waited for him to continue to scold you, but were surprised when he sat on the edge of the bed, trying to show no hostility.
"We all have our own opinions, our own ways of thinking, and everyone is entitled to that opinion. But that doesn't mean one opinion is right while others are wrong, especially in this scenario. Every captain who voted for your recommendation, did so because we have an immense faith in you. That doesn't mean Captain Kuchiki lacks faith, but he's still skeptical of your limits, and only argued his opinion because he thought it would keep you safe."
He placed a hand on the back of his neck, hair standing on end.
"And maybe he was right, but we can't know for sure until we test this theory. So you need to rest before you take these risks, rivalry or not. If you do not comply, you can and will be watched by a trusted member of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, do you understand? That means no missions, no training, no fights in the Seireitei, and absolutely no use of your zanpakuto for a specified amount of time."
Sometimes you forget how bossy the smaller man could be, remembering to watch your step when crossing lines.
"So how long until I can leave the infirmary? Or be trusted enough to walk around outside without a bodyguard?"
Impatient as always, you asked for an exact timeline of when and how your recovery was to begin.
"There is no exact answer, lieutenant, as it all depends on your condition and choices. If you stick to routines, take your medication, rest and recover without a complaint, about one year exactly until you are allowed to be on your own once more. If you act out or deliberately disobey commanding officers, the time can be extended. So don't cause any trouble, okay?"
You gave him your hand, offering to shake his own as a show of your agreement to the deal and its rules. 
"Captain Hitsugaya, if I may share an honest opinion with you, can you be straight with me?"
His blue eyes narrowed at your question but he ultimately accepted, knowing much was weighing heavily on your heart.
"When the announcement for the recommendations came in, I was so excited for more training, the very idea made me feel ready for the chance to impress you all. I was sure I would be instructed to learn more from you about ice zanpakuto types, but Soi Fon was selected instead. Is there any reason that might be?"
He was certainly surprised by your question, but there was no polite answer.
"Byakuya Kuchiki is your current captain and therefore in charge of assigning your training schedule. He thought that since my training was not sufficient enough that you needed a change of pace, hence why he chose Soi Fon and Aizen. Honestly I don't think the ice is the full issue, but your release of spiritual pressure is constantly changing. If you want to get better, and prove Byakuya Kuchiki wrong, you'll need to fully understand your own flaws in battle. Not doing so will only hold you back farther, hurting not only your reputation, but the strength of the sixth division as a whole."
So your training to gain control while fixing your shaky reputation has begun. If only you could predict the many twists that would come through the following year.
—--------------------------------------
Time Changes 
Time had passed so quickly, making changes to the Soul Society, and you as well. The year prior, your agreement with Toshiro Hitsugaya was set in stone, making you rebuild the very foundations of your life. At first it felt like such a punishment, to be banned and excluded from the normal activities of day to day life.
Tension was always felt in the air as you passed citizens and soldiers, unclear whispers spoken in hushed tones. Eyes glancing away at a fast pace, hoping you didn't notice the stares marking your back. But you got used to it, so much so that it no longer was a bother, instead serving as another motivator to do better.
Your secrets were no longer as safe or respected as they had been in the past, rumors like wildfire ghosted over every nook and cranny of the Seireitei, making any previous connection with Byakuya Kuchiki seem insignificant. He was still your captain, but no longer did you greet him at the office, or ask him to rest, but stayed short and curt when given orders. If you were to drop off paperwork, you would state your business, complete the task and carry on with your day like nothing ever happened.
You met his eyes every now and then, but would not acknowledge his presence unless spoken to directly. In return for your cold personality, he remained indifferent as ever, unable to articulate how he regretted pushing your hand and threatening your position. 
"I can't believe you did that, Renji, seriously you need to be more careful with hollow encounters!" Rukia's voice spoke from the office lobby.
Renji was trying to keep up with her criticism, but found himself busy staring at your frame at a designated desk, clearly frustrated as you flipped through piles of paperwork and signed with little care as to what was requested on the document.
You had removed your eyes from the request, looking out your doorway when you saw the redhead staring back. Without much hesitation you stood up and closed the screen door that led to your office quarters, hoping for some piece of mind.
Rukia noticed his line of sight, placing a hand on his arm to remind him that your sour mood was not his fault. 
"She barely interacts with any of our peers, not even me anymore. It's like she's blocked out the entire world besides work, and she doesn't look like the (Y/N) I know. It's as though something flipped a switch on her heart, she doesn't see Rangiku as much either, although that's probably because that idiot let out her secret in front of some rookies without a care."
His mind wandered to the day you had discovered her treachery, forgetting common sense and being blinded by the ghost of betrayal. Rumors always found their way back to you, invoking a storm to erupt inside your gut. Not only had you trusted her, but she knew everything, every little detail that made you tick. So the fact that you had also cut tight ties with her was a worrying sign.
She had apologized profusely, but it was no use as the damage had been dealt to your uneasy mind. You still said hello in the hallways, gave awkward smiles when forced to be near each other, and stayed polite, but that was all.
"Renji, you know Rangiku didn't mean anything by it, but (Y/N) thought she did. The people she held close turned around and spilled a big secret, and now she doesn't know who to trust."
As Rukia spoke to Renji, the sound of your door opening and closing resonated throughout the room, making them equally statuesque as you passed by without a word. As you passed they both felt a burst of cold air, no doubt a warning sign from you.
Across the room they could see you talking to the captain, no emotion except for the slight tinge of irritation that was exposed by the shove of papers towards his hand and the slam of his office door. As they saw you leave the building, they collectively let out a sigh of distress.
"How has Captain Kuchiki been doing, Rukia?"
She was trying desperately to think of any positive outcomes in the past year, but could find nothing but bitter memories. While Byakuya had never shown her much of a familial connection, he has never been this distant or distracted, causing her worry to increase.
"Same as the last few months, how about (Y/N)?"
Renji's silence spoke volumes, indicating that this affliction would not end anytime soon, even if Byakuya were to apologize or you were to forgive him. There was a stalemate between you two, neither one making a step to better the conditions of your cracked relationship, letting it drift away with time and negligence.
"The only thing I can think of is her connection with Captain Aizen and Captain Hitsugaya, they're the only people she's close with at the moment. She's even stopped playing her usual round of games with Yachiru. I don't know who she is anymore."
The dark haired woman reached out a hand, trying to ease the mind of her childhood friend.
"Is there anything I can do to help you out with her? With work?"
At times like these, he was glad he had Rukia for a friend, but her big brother was currently your nemesis, making him doubt her abilities.
"Can you help out the captain? He is your brother after all, and I can focus on (Y/N). The only problem I can think of is her avoidance tactics. And even if I do talk to her alone she just stays quiet, and by the time I'm done she's out the door."
Rukia suddenly turned to Renji, grabbing his arm and pulling him along, causing him to stumble. Once they were alone in one of the hallways she began.
"Then we make her listen, to everyone who she'd normally listen to, and we host a meeting expressing our concerns with her behavior. If we let her know that we want to help her, maybe we could understand each other."
Unfortunately, Rukia and Renji had not thought this through entirely, the meeting hall beginning to fill as people filed in. Of course to make you unsuspecting, you were told that it was a plan between captains and lieutenants to assign lower ranked shinigami to missions and tasks.
The plan began to make you feel cornered as only certain captains and lieutenants entered, each one invited and assumed to be close to you.
Soi Fon, Hitsugaya, Rangiku, Yumichika, Momo, Renji, Yachiru, Rukia, Komamura, Kyoraku, Ukitake, Shuhei, and Unohana sat on one side of the long table, staring at you with blank eyes.
"So there is no meeting today, I should have known better. So what else are we criticizing, today? Because surely I'm not the only reason you all put aside your actual work?"
Your tone was not welcoming, an air of sarcasm at the actions taken behind your back. No one spoke, afraid to say anything that could escalate the situation.
"I don't understand what else you want from me, what else do I have to do to prove I'm worthy enough to be on my own? I followed your rules, I obeyed and didn't bat an eye, but clearly I must have missed a step, especially when you can't even look me up and down without that hesitation!"
Rangiku could feel her eyes growing irritated, her body trying to hold back tears at the sight of your anger. She hadn't meant to blabber on to Toshiro, or the rookie soldiers who put two and two together when the ginger mentioned how a certain captain was lovesick.
While she hadn't said your name, the public could distinguish the bond between you and the fifth division captain.
When it reached Byakuya, he was furious.
When it reached Momo, she was heartbroken.
When Toshiro and everyone else heard, they remained at a distance, afraid of what their reactions could do.
"We're not here to scold you lieutenant (L/N), but rather express our concern for how the year has affected you, how it's affecting all of us."
You were surprised to hear Komamura speak, expecting Toshiro or Renji to lead the meeting. Your sandals hit the linoleum floors repeatedly, legs moving in slow paces around the room as you examined the ones in charge.
"How can you ask me that, when you're the one who forced me into it? All of you claim to understand, to feel sympathy, but you couldn't be further from understanding. Do you know what it's like to be unable to access your spirit energy? To be stuck between loneliness and judgment? To ask yourself if you'd rather sit with your thoughts or go outside with whispers following your every movement?"
Everyone could feel the air grow tight, trapping them in their uncomfortable emotions. Toshiro, Rangiku and Renji could feel your presence watching them, analyzing them, ripping their heart to shreds without a second thought.
"If you want to suggest that I'm personally trying to get back at each of you, at any of you, ask yourself why you think I would want to hurt any of you? Because if I'm being honest, I'm angry, I'm disappointed, but I would never hate any of you, let alone want to cause you more pain. So try to understand that not everything I'm doing is meant to affect you, and that my relationships, my private life, is not up for discussion."
Toshiro stood, slamming his chair into the table without fail. The legs screeched against the floor, scuffing the tile.
"That will be enough out of you, Lieutenant (L/N). If you wish to press the matter, then I suggest you get a decent amount of time to think this over."
He marched up to you, not hiding his disapproval as your superior.
Still you stood in place, scouting the other bystanders for their thoughts.
"Oh you must be joking to say such a thing, Shiro! Oh my I'm so sorry, only Momo calls you that right, because she's such a dear girl? Time, time is all you can suggest for the problem you know doesn't exist! I've had time, years in fact to think about everything you haven't done for me! I've clawed my way through meaningless tasks, through the mud-coated forest, and a hell of a lot more than you give me credit for! So please let me show you what I'm capable of, and let me show you the extent of my satisfactory skills!"
His height had always been a bother, certain cadets not treating him as a captain. That had never been a problem for you, respecting him as an officer, and even a friend.
That was no longer the case now, your figure glaring at him with disdain. A blade wasn't necessary for you to tear into him, an odd emptiness placing itself inside him.
"Meaningless tasks…."
His whispered words faded as he registered the meaning behind them.
You took one last look at their faces, their bodies slumped in the chairs, before moving from the meeting room to the nearest exit. Bewilderment at the scene behind your walking figure, wishing for one chance at peace, at new beginnings, and the chance to move on.
As much as you wanted to be disgusted at them, that disgust had burrowed into your own heart, guilt wracking every inch of your body. The world seemed a blur, every color seeming to fade into the background, the sound of life dissipating into nothing but your heartbeat.
Every once in a while you could feel that desire to let go, to let your zanpakuto take the leading role over your sound mind, wondering what that release would feel like. What would make you calm? What could stop this feeling of a time bomb inside your skull? Your hand instinctively wanting to rest on the side of your head, the frustration accumulating like storm clouds.
Your fast walk became a light jog as you found yourself back near the barracks, a new desperation building, your blood boiling beneath your skin until you were sure you had caught a bug.
That unending heat was so unusual, especially when considering the Soul Society weather range and your zanpakuto abilities. Yet you couldn't escape the feeling of burning up, wondering if it was normal, exhaustion digging itself into your muscles just like a parasite.
"(Y/N) what happened? (Y/N)?"
Your mind was going so slowly, so much so that you barely recognized Aizen's room, a fog blocking your sense of perception.
From his perspective, you looked as though you had run a marathon, sweat beading along your neck, hair sticking to the nape in uneven tangles.
He had walked over to your figure, eyes moving all over your features, but they eventually locked onto you. He had always gotten overprotective of you, ulterior motives or not. Any sign of trouble and he would stop at nothing to find a solution.
"There was a meeting - but it wasn't actually a meeting, Toshiro and a bunch of others were talking - and I freaked out - so I left-"
Without hesitation he softly placed a finger over your mouth, stopping any other jumbled words to leak out.
"Tell me what happened, and take it easy."
His very presence always had a calming effect on you, similar to how lavender can make even the most energetic people fall asleep within a short amount of time.
The brunette could see the gears turning in your head, your panic falling away into despair. His heartbeat rose as he felt you collide with his chest, arms squeezing as tight as you could until you could only sense him, his cologne, his aura, and the soft rise and fall of his chest.
As calming as Aizen could be, that didn't neutralize the tears cascading down your cheeks, or the rapid speed of your breath as he continued to hold you close.
"Did someone hurt you?"
He had to mentally remind himself to keep his words covered in a soft tone, almost dropping to a malicious whisper at the very idea of you in trouble.
You didn't pull away from his embrace; your response was only made coherent by the shake of your head. His body relaxed a little at that reassurance, but he was nowhere near calm, at least in his thoughts.
"Say you won't leave me, please. I'm so afraid of what you might do, Sosuke."
His hold tightened, the knot of revenge building in his chest, unrelenting as he could only imagine the payback, the satisfaction. In a moment you were lifted up into his arms, legs secured by one arm, while the other had secured your torso, making sure to keep you as close as possible.
"Such a silly girl, aren't you? Why would I ever do that?"
You lifted your head to meet his gaze, feeling so fragile underneath his stare. The pad of his thumb wiped away any stray teardrops, the softest touch making you putty in his hands.
He lowered himself onto a nearby couch, still cradling your body without any second thoughts. His height had always made you feel safer, specifically in these moments where you could feel him underneath you, enveloping you into a stronghold.
"I'm serious about this, about everything, as silly as you might think…"
The grip around your torso loosened, allowing for you to position yourself however you saw fit. You raised your upper body, staring at the bewitched captain below.
With his hands freed he placed them underneath your jaw, bringing his mouth to the side of your throat, allowing his teeth to ghost over your jugular. His lips made repeated contact, eventually giving open-mouthed kisses, smirking ever so slightly as he heard you sigh deeply, knowing exactly how to push your buttons in all the right places.
"Sosuke - what are you thinking - right now?"
He didn't respond, trailing kisses up your jawline, each excruciatingly irresistible, making your body betray your mind.
"I'm thinking about how to make it clear to you that I wouldn't leave you, especially not here."
Without any more motivation necessary, you took the initiative, lips meeting him in a desperate attempt to curb your memory, to forget about it all.
It was always a sight to watch him come undone, especially after a hard day's work. His disguise was no longer relevant or needed as you combed your fingers through his hair, trying to get as close to him as possible.
To see him hungry, short of breath and eyes only focused on you. You could do or say anything in these moments, but the odds of you getting out without scratch marks down your back and hickeys below the neck of your formal work attire were little to none.
"I thought you were busy today—"
Another sensitive nerve was struck in the middle of your sentence, making you squirm in his lap, trying to stay composed.
You covered your mouth before any more suggestive noises were heard, noticing how he paused his actions at the sound of your silence.
"You know for a lieutenant, you get flustered so easily? Don't worry if you can't keep quiet, it's not like you do this for anyone else."
Another kiss, another muffled moan, another pause, until he had finally pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, careful not to bruise your skin.
As the kisses became deeper you wriggled your hands free, placing them back on his head, and pulling him down to meet your mouth once more.
With every breath and sigh, the satisfaction of seeing you so flustered, his hands reached toward your thighs, hoisting them around his waist then sitting back down.
You had surrendered at last giving in to his touches and praise, no longer resisting any contact, but embracing it. At first you thought you heard a noise, a small thud, ignoring it at first as nothing more than a random noise. But then the same thud occurred, louder and repetitive against his front door.
As much as he wanted to continue this session, it would be incredibly suspicious if he ignored the knocking. He placed you back on the couch before cracking open the door and peeking out to see Momo Hinamori and Hitsugaya, both looking rather glum.
"Did you need something, Captain Hitsugaya? Lieutenant Hinamori?"
Toshiro felt a strange curiosity as he looked at the taller superior, stray hairs ruffled and his skin flushed a light pink. If Toshiro really concentrated he could sense traces of your spiritual pressure.
"Have you seen Lieutenant (L/N)? Captain Kuchiki was expecting her to deliver some reports and says she has not returned to the office. Do you have any idea why that might be? "
His brown eyes narrowed, calculating the best approach.
"I saw her earlier today, did something happen, Captain Hitsugaya? Maybe something upsetting?"
His voice was full of rage, evident to only you as you saw his shoulders tense under his uniform. The hand leaning into the frame had gripped the material, knuckles whitening at the pressure.
"No, I don't think so. Would you say she's seemed upset lately?"
Toshiro continued pushing his limits, taking steps toward the taller man. Aizen stood his ground, body blocking any opening of the doorway.
"Earlier, a half hour ago actually, but she didn't tell me anything. Do you know what could have happened? Was there a specific meeting I missed?"
He emphasized his knowledge of the true events, making it undoubtedly clear that you had stopped by.
Without any warning Toshiro Flash-Stepped by him, able to find a gap.
His confusion didn't last long as he saw you laying back on the sofa, clothes baggy and coming undone as you clutched them to your chest, not expecting him to see you like this. The fabric had slid down your shoulders, revealing bare skin that was glistening in the evening light. From the angle, the golden hues had emphasized your features, making a certain radiance bounce off of you, even as teardrops still rested on your lashes.
His blue eyes softened, but you paid his regret no mind, looking away to conceal your further embarrassment. He was going to speak, but the firm shove on his shoulder towards the exit interrupted him.
Momo, who was still outside, was conflicted, not understanding why her best friend was pushed away so violently by her favorite captain.
Toshiro muttered something about lying and privacy, unnerved by seeing his subordinate in such a state. Not only that, but the image of you with the fifth division captain made his stomach churn.
Once the door was closed you were embarrassed beyond all reason, completely caught off guard.
"Next time give me a warning before you go out, especially when I'm like this."
Now that his blood isn't boiling he can't help but stare at your exposed body, partially covered up by throw pillows and your robe. His smile makes a shiver travel down your spine, knowing full well his intentions, his imagination on the cusp of breaking.
"At least you know he didn't hear you, but that was close."
His mind had completely centered on you, making it his priority to see you come undone in his lap.
"But then again, I think I'd prefer you to scream as loud as you can. Guess I can't let you down."
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rxynherwritings7 · 2 months
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Fragments Of Hope - Chapter 3
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note: I am making myself frustrated with this chapter... anyways, let me know what you think about it
warning: courtroom? (some people might experience how frustrating it is)
The courtroom was hushed as Tyler, his sister Diane, and their mom took their seats alongside their lawyer. The air was thick with tension as they prepared to confront one of the men responsible for the nightmare that had haunted their lives.
Their lawyer leaned in and whispered reassuringly, "We've got a strong case. Just stay calm, and we'll get through this."
As the trial kicked off, the family's eyes met the driver, who sat with an air of false innocence. The memories of that fateful day rushed back, and Tyler couldn't shake the fear that gripped him.
The lawyer stood, addressing the court, "Your Honor, the trauma this family has endured is immeasurable. We are here seeking justice for the pain inflicted upon them."
The driver's gaze shifted nervously as the family took the stand one by one. 
As the driver spun his web of deceit on the witness stand, Tyler's frustration bubbled beneath the surface. The carefully constructed veneer of composure cracked, revealing an undercurrent of rage inside of him. Unable to contain himself any longer, Tyler slammed his fist on the back of the wooden bench.
Then came the driver's turn. He began, "Your Honor, I was misled. Tom told me it was a simple favor, and I had no idea it involved harm to the children. I never would have agreed if I knew."
Diane couldn't suppress a skeptical scoff then murmurs to herself. "He expects us to believe that? He knew exactly what he was doing."
The driver smirked subtly, a sly confidence in his eyes. "I assure you, I was a pawn in Tom's twisted game. He manipulated me just like he did his own family."
Diane shot this time, "You conveniently forget to mention your history with Tom. You two met in prison, where he was serving time for abusing his wife and kids. Your alliance isn't as innocent as you want everyone to believe."
"Diane, we need to let the lawyer handle this." Carmen was as desperate and enraged as her children. 
The driver's smirk widened, aware that the truth was his advantage. "I've paid my dues for past mistakes. This was not my doing. Tom played me."
The courtroom buzzed with tension as the conflicting narratives unfolded. Diane locked eyes with the driver, recognizing the malicious satisfaction in his expression.
As the trial continued, Tyler struggled to contain his anger, a seething frustration simmering beneath the surface. The courtroom, now on edge, bore witness to a family torn between seeking justice and battling the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume them.
In a final blow, the judge rendered a verdict that fell short of true justice. The driver would face some fees and damages, a resolution that left the family feeling betrayed by a system unable to fully comprehend the depth of their suffering.
As they emerged from the courtroom, the heavy air of disappointment clung to them like an invisible shroud. Tyler, Diane, and Carmen exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of frustration and anger. In the distance, Andrew stood waiting, having received permission from Tyler to join them.
Andrew approached with a keen awareness of the situation. He could immediately sense the disappointment in their eyes. With a heavy heart, he acknowledged the gravity of the moment. "I'm sorry, guys. It didn't work out the way you wanted," he said, his voice tinged with regret.
Without waiting for a response, he moved first to his mom, Carmen, engulfing her in a tight embrace. "I wish I could've done more," he murmured softly, the words a mixture of apology and reassurance. Carmen squeezed him back, grateful for his support.
Turning to Diane, Andrew could see the frustration etched on her face. He reached out and pulled her into a comforting hug. "We'll figure this out, Di. We always do," he whispered, trying to inject a bit of hope into the somber moment.
Finally, he turned to Tyler, his best friend and confidant. The frustration weighed heavily on Tyler's shoulders. Andrew offered a pat on the back, a silent gesture of solidarity between the two friends. No words were needed; they understood each other's pain and disappointment.
The group stood there for a moment, a silent bond connecting them through the challenges they faced. Despite the setback, Andrew's presence brought a touch of solace, a reminder that they were not alone in navigating the difficult path ahead.
As they decided to head home together, Tyler suggested, "Why don't you come with us, Andrew?"
Andrew hesitated for a moment, gauging the sincerity in Tyler's eyes. The weight of the unsuccessful trial hung heavy on his shoulders, and he didn't want to burden his best friend's family further. But Carmen, sensing his uncertainty, chimed in, "We'd be glad to have you. It's been too long since we caught up, and I'm sure Ty could use the company."
Tyler offered a small smile, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond they shared. With a nod, Andrew agreed, "Alright, I'll come."
The car ride to their apartment was a mix of subdued conversation and contemplative silence. The city buzzed outside the windows, indifferent to the struggles within the vehicle. Carmen, seated in the front, occasionally glanced back at Andrew, offering a reassuring smile as if to say, "You're part of this family too."
Upon arrival, the apartment building loomed tall, its exterior giving no indication of the emotional turmoil within its walls. They entered, and the familiar scent of home embraced them. Carmen led the way, her heels echoing in the hallway as they approached their unit.
Once inside, the atmosphere shifted. The living room, adorned with memories old and new, became a sanctuary for shared struggles. Carmen gestured towards the seating area, inviting Andrew to make himself at home. Diane, still grappling with the aftermath of the court proceedings, found solace in a corner of the room, lost in her own thoughts.
As they settled, Carmen's warmth prevailed. "So, Andrew, tell us how you've been. How are your studies at the nursing school?" She perched on the edge of an armchair, her eyes reflecting genuine interest.
Andrew shared the challenges and victories of his academic journey, the demanding nature of nursing school, and the delicate balance of family life. Carmen listened attentively, interjecting with motherly advice and anecdotes from her own past.
"You're like a second son to me, Andrew," Carmen confessed, her gaze filled with maternal affection. "I miss the times when you and Tyler were inseparable. Those sleepovers were the highlight of our weekends."
A wave of nostalgia washed over them, the shared memories of laughter and camaraderie intertwining with the present struggles. Diane, still withdrawn, looked on, her emotions hidden behind a veil of contemplation.
After some time, Diane excused herself from the gathering. "It's not that I don't like y'all, but I need some time to process things. I hope you understand." The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging in the air.
"Of course, Di," Tyler assured her, a mixture of understanding and concern in his eyes. "Take all the time you need."
As Diane retreated to the solitude of her thoughts, the remaining trio continued their conversation, the day's events a backdrop to the shared bond that had weathered both joy and sorrow.
Later, as the afternoon sun cast warm hues across the cityscape visible from the apartment window, Tyler and Andrew found themselves in the bedroom. The air in the room felt charged with unspoken words, the events of the day echoing in their minds.
"I can't believe how things went in court today," Tyler sighed, sinking into a chair.
Andrew, perched on the edge of the bed, ran a hand through his hair, the disbelief still fresh in his mind. "It's surreal, Ty. I never thought it would turn out like this."
They shared a moment of quiet reflection, the city's distant hum providing a backdrop to their thoughts. Andrew, feeling the need for fresh air, approached the window overlooking the city skyline.
"Man, I forgot you have a nice view from here," he remarked, gazing out at the urban expanse below.
Tyler, joining him by the window, nodded. "Yeah, it's better at night. The city lights, you know?"
A subtle shift in the conversation occurred, the transition from the heaviness of the day to a moment of shared nostalgia. Andrew leaned against the windowsill, looking out at the city that had witnessed their shared laughter and the weight of their struggles.
"I don't doubt that," Andrew replied, his voice a blend of wistfulness and disbelief.
The day had taken unexpected turns, revealing the fragility of plans and the resilience of bonds. As they stood together, overlooking the city that held their intertwined pasts and uncertain futures, Tyler asserted, "We'll get through it together."
"Always," Andrew agreed, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The challenges ahead loomed, but in the quiet assurance of their friendship, they found a source of strength that transcended the uncertainties of the present.
As evening settled, the aroma of Carmen's cooking filled the apartment. Pots and pans clinked in the kitchen as she prepared a meal, a gesture of comfort amid the day's challenges. Andrew, knowing he had to return home, stood by the door, ready to bid farewell.
"You sure you can't stay for dinner?" Carmen insisted, stirring a pot on the stove.
"I appreciate it, Carmen, but I really should get going," Andrew replied, a small smile playing on his lips.
Carmen, undeterred, filled a container with a generous portion of the home-cooked meal. "At least take some food for you and your family. It's the least I can do."
Gratitude filled Andrew's eyes as he accepted the container. "Thank you, Carmen. This means a lot."
They embraced once more, a silent understanding passing between them. "Keep going with nursing, Andrew. You're destined for great things," Carmen encouraged.
"I will, Carmen. Take care," Andrew replied, a mix of determination and appreciation in his voice.
"Goodbye, sweetheart. And give my regards to your family," Carmen said, watching him leave with a warmth that extended beyond the boundaries of their shared history.
Tyler, waiting in the car, greeted Andrew with a grin. "Ready ?"
"Yup," Andrew replied, settling into the passenger seat.
As they drove through the city, Andrew couldn't resist teasing his friend. "Hey, is your sister single?"
Tyler shot him a deadpan look. "Ask me that question again, and you'll continue your way home alone in the rain."
Andrew burst into laughter, the levity a welcome relief from the day's tension. The banter continued until they reached Andrew's home, where he bid farewell to Tyler and headed inside, the container of food in hand.
Meanwhile, Tyler, on his way back home, decided to stop at a nearby gas station to refuel. As he stood by the pump, a motorbike pulled up, and the rider began removing their helmet. Tyler, looking through the car window, squinted as recognition dawned. When the helmet came off, revealing a familiar face, the air crackled with suspense.
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wavering-eyes · 2 years
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Lessons from YCS Charlotte
Welcome back. Much of my writing on Yu-Gi-Oh! has been focused on individual cards and deckbuilding, but even though this blog is written with a competitive mindset, I haven’t really gone into detail about competitive considerations, if you get what I mean.
There’s a lot that goes into playing and winning card games at the tournament level, and today I’d like to share with you some of the things I learned about that while on my trip to YCS Charlotte earlier this month.
Let’s get into it.
First off, I scrubbed out horribly at Charlotte.
In my defense, I’m also in the senior year of a biochemistry degree and had absolutely no time to prepare, I changed decks at the last minute, and I had a lot of baggage involving late schoolwork on my mind. So I wasn’t expecting to do well anyways, but I still disappointed myself in the end. My last loss of the tournament was to an Ancient Warriors player who was trying his absolute hardest to get me disqualified for making honest misplays. I just got fed up with the stress of the situation and conceded once we got to game 3.
And that’s a shame, because I was on the best deck of the tournament: Adventurer Prank-Kids. And I could really feel the power I was playing with. Everyone else in my car who was on the same deck made Day 2 and I was the only one who didn’t, and the difference was definitely practice.
I went into Day 1 of the tournament not knowing I should be shuffling back Meow-Meow Mu with Pranks. That’s just a knowledge issue there. I had games where I was way ahead after opening my combo uninterrupted, but still fell behind because I couldn’t make second turn plays.
So I guess Lesson 1 is to practice, practice, practice. I don’t imagine that’s a revelation to anyone, but you should know your deck inside and out by the time of the event. I know a few people who are prone to last-minute tech decisions and I’ve seen it blow up in their faces before once they realized they didn’t fully understand how that card would interact with the game they were playing. (Shoutout to my Round 1 opponent at my first regional who tried to tell me that his activation of Artifact Sanctum prevented me from going into Battle Phase that turn.)
That leads a bit into Lesson 2, but before that, let me continue the story.
I didn’t even want to look at my cards once I got eliminated from Day 1 until I sat down at a table on Day 2, so I still had very little practice. I looked around the tables for anyone I recognized and ran into a Cyberse Eldlich player from my locals who agreed to do a few test games. It went really poorly when I went 3 or 4 games without drawing a Prank-Kids card, but after his evaluation, it seemed to him like I actually had an okay idea of how to play my deck (at the very least I could chainblock kids with Fateful Adventure), and when I asked if I should try and enter a regional qualifier, he said it was worth it.
So I ponied up $18 and sat down at a table to practice Small World bridges for about 5 minutes since that lost me a bunch of time in the previous tournament, and once I finally sat down across from my Round 1 opponent, I learned that I was playing the mirror match.
It was in this tournament set that I learned I should be shuffling back Meow-Meow-Mu, and I took that knowledge to the bank in the following games. I actually managed to beat him, mostly thanks to drawing Droll & Lock Bird.
So Lesson 2 is more or less “take notes”. Don’t be afraid to learn from your opponents, or from random tables. Unless you think you’re at the top, chances are that you still have something to learn.
Round 2 came around. I went first with full combo: a Prank-Kids monster and Rite of Aramesir. My opponent would need two hand traps to stop me in any meaningful way... and naturally he opens like Ogre, Nibiru, something (veiler?), Longyuan, Ecclesia, and Adhara. Pop token with Baronne, make two Synchros, OTK. Sucks to suck, I guess.
Game 2 starts. I have once again opened well, including my sided Crossout Designator! Except this time, my opponent opened more hand traps including Token Collector. I have literally never had this card summoned on me in tournament before and I don’t know how to play around it. I groan to myself as my opponent continues pitching cards from his hand, I activate Crossout declaring Nibiru once he activates it, and after I activate Pranks, he reveals that little goblin and my mind starts moving at light speed.
I chain Pandemonium like it’s something I already knew was correct, then extend into Rocket Ride to make Bow-Wow Bark and stall.
It works: at some point he pitches the Nibiru for Forbidden Droplet, then he summons Mo Ye and makes Gallant Granite to search another before hitting me and wiping the board with Zeus.
This tech was pretty mindblowing to me, but since I shuffled back Meow-Meow with Pranks, I had a play next turn which quickly let me make another Dodo, search Place, tribute to add back my lost Pranks, and pull ahead in advantage. He scoops soon after.
And then in Game 3, I finally see Gamma and a second handtrap going second and blow him out with it.
Lesson 3 is here: don’t get into your own head. I had a bad feeling once he blew me out so hard in Game 1 and opened more interaction in Game 2, but you never really know what your opponent’s got until they show it to you. As it turns out, Mo Ye with no Wyrms can’t do a whole lot.
Round 3. My matches are taking so long that my opponents end up spectating my Game 3s. From here on, all of them know what I’m playing and I have no idea what they’re up to.
It turns out I’m going second versus Cyberse Eldlich, opening Scythe and DPE. I look at my hand with no Adventurer cards and hold turn player priority to go into Game 2, acknowledging that he probably already knows what I’m playing, but that this is the correct decision under normal circumstances.
Game 2 I open uninterrupted, but he tries to play through it. As we play through the grindy matchup, he realizes he’s falling behind on LP and not winning anytime soon, so he calls Game 3.
I interrupt him, partially. He doesn’t get to Dagda this time, but still gets to DPE. By this point I have an extra Droll in my hand, a Small World, a Gryphon Rider, and a Fusion Destiny. I have to make a choice, testing my knowledge gained earlier from 5 minutes of Small World bridges: bridge into a Prank-Kid and lose on the spot to DPE, or bridge into Water Enchantress and maybe pull ahead after losing a key card.
This is not a difficult choice in retrospect, but it feels really symbolic to me. Every now and then, the game will hand you a choice like this: you can try and play your deck the way it’s meant to be played, or you can try and play the way that’s most likely to get you the win. That’s Lesson 4, by the way.
I learned it a long time ago, back in Eternal format, when I got Veilered on Normal Summon Foxy in the mirror and decided I wasn’t getting anywhere by giving my opponent free draws off of Phantazmay. I won that game with Jack Jaguar and Miragestallio beatdown. Didn’t summon a Link Monster until I drew an Ash off the top in the final turn of the game. Didn’t need to.
And in this game, I didn’t need to actually play Prank-Kids. I revealed Droll, showed Ghost Ogre, then added Water Enchantress. The search resolved, and once he spent his DPE outing Fateful Adventure, I pushed 6500 damage into his face and won after he overthought himself into losing in time.
His backrow was Artifact Sanctum. He was trying to save it for Prank-Kids plays, and as a result, couldn’t play around hard drawn Fusion Destiny. I guess that’s the risk you take in trying to conserve resources.
By this point, I have no idea what’s going on. I took a deck I hardly knew how to play and piloted it to grand finals of a regional flight. I’ve been sitting in the corner of the room for like four hours and haven’t seen any of my friends since I started.
I lost the die roll to Swordsoul Tenyi. He opens Chi Xiao and Baronne. I opened no hand traps.
My hand is a Prank-Kids monster, Rite of Aramesir, Dracoback, Fusion Destiny, and Instant Fusion. I don’t remember the remaining card so maybe I opened Small World and a handtrap instead of Rite or a Kid, or the card was dead.
Rite resolved. Don’t remember why or how, but once I got the token to stick, Dracoback and Fateful forced the rest of his interactions, so two cards in, it was looking like I would be able to play through it. I summoned a Kid and went into my play and was hit by Nibiru.
But it’s fine, since for the first time this tournament, I drew Instant Fusion! Rocket Ride extended the play back into Dodo, I added back Place and Pandemonium, making Bow-Wow before activating Fusion Destiny and clearing the board. I won soon after.
Games 2 and 3 are unfortunately not as interesting. I misplayed around Tenyi cards and generally got punished for a lack of knowledge. I lost game 3 after opening full combo and forgetting to set Prank-Kids Pandemonium from my hand. Even the judge was baffled by that.
I was sad, but not too sad. I expected nothing and almost won a regional qualifier. I’ve had tournaments go worse than that on more practice.
All in all, I walked away with a bunch of bulk, a Borreload Riot Dragon (same thing, honestly), four prize tickets, and a reignited passion for the game. I sold one of the tickets for $3 and bought an Accesscode Talker mousepad with the remaining ones, and I’ll always feel a little proud of it. It’s no regional mat or deck box, but it’s proof that anything is possible.
That’s the end of the story for today, so I’d like to close with Lesson 5. I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this given my conclusion:
...
Tenyi Spirit - Vishuda is fucking broken. Also, fuck the main event, just farm side events and walk away with your arms full of playmats and giant cards. If you’re decent at the game, you’ll easily be able to profit after deducting travel costs and entry fees.
Anyways. Until next time!
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heretherebedork · 4 years
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Gotta be honest, years of slashing best friends for just existing together has definitely shaped a very strong appreciation for the way Chinese shows have decided to handle the censorship of gay couples.
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iwadori · 3 years
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Hiiii!!!! can you do like when you guys are supposed to meet up and they waited for about an hour or so and kept texting you you but you haven't replied so they thought you ditched them and got mad at you and stuff then they decided to go home and while on their way home not too far from their school they found you unconscious body with a large wound on you back and your head bleeding?.
can you pleaseease do tsukishima, yamaguchi, ushijima, bokuto (I'm sorry if that's a lot)
Haikyu Boys when you get hurt Pt 2 (Ushijima,Bokuto
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Part One Part Two Part Three
Word count: 2.6K
Genre: angst, fluff
masterlist
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Ushijima
You were having the worst week this week,  from battling a cold and your boss making you do all sorts of extra jobs (that were definitely not under your job description.) As easter was swiftly approaching you and Ushijima had your annual plans of going to the local kids community center and helping them with an easter egg hunt. But you don’t think you can manage it this year.
Ushijima gets home from practice with 4 bags just filled with easter eggs ranging from all different sizes, “woah there Toshi, you’ve got enough there too feed all of england” you laugh  
“I don’t think these eggs will be able to sustain England Y/N” he says seriously making you laugh even harder. As you were laughing, you felt another migraine come along making your cringe in pain. “Toshi, I don’t think I can do the easter egg hunt this year?”  
He sits down next to you alarmed that something is wrong, “why what happened Y/N” he asks
“I’ve been feeling terrible all week, and I even have a migraine right now” you say to him thinking he would understand.
“That’s it?” he questions thinking what you said was a joke “I think you can handle a migraine, remember we’re doing this for the kids”
His words were making you feel slightly guilty since maybe you were being over dramatic. “Y/N if it’s really ‘that bad’, i’ll make you some tea so you can feel better,” he says going into the kitchen to start on your tea. You murmur a quiet “thank you” and you end up falling asleep, hoping that by the time you wake up your head stops pounding.
As you wake up, you realise you slept all the way through the night and over to the next day as when you look at your clock it says 12:32 pm. You look at your nightstand and saw that Ushijima wrote you a note saying:  
Y/N I've left out early to set out the easter egg hunt, I’ve made you breakfast so eat up and get prepared for the event which starts at 4pm. Please don’t forget.
Sincerely – Ushijima Wakatoshi.
You chuckle at the fondness of the note, before realising your pain. Your brain felt like it was having a live concert inside that definitely was not going to end soon but you still got up prepared for the day. You didn’t want to let Ushijima or the kids down.  
When you go to the kitchen , you see the cute breakfast that Ushijima made you consisting of all of your favourite foods and with another simple note of him saying ‘ I love you. ‘ Ushijima has always been a lovely boyfriend, treating you like the queen you are always making sure that you were okay. Of course, his bluntness and his lack of social cues was something to get used to but when you did get accustomed to it, it only made you fall in love with him more.
You got ready, feeling even more sick as the piping hot shower that you usual have, did not help as when you were showering you felt heavily faint. However, you persevered since you did not want to let Ushijima down.
You finally were prepared to leave the house, with the community center being on 15 minutes walk away you were leaving out at 3:50pm since you were planning to take your car anyways. When you leave your home, you realise that you forgot your car keys so you dash up the stairs (a bit too quickly) to go and find them. Scrambling through your draws, your head is pounding harder and harder and the more it pounds the quicker your moving making you even more faint. You eventually find your keys and you’re ready to zoom to the community center but your body gave out and you pass out tumbling down the stairs landing at your front door.
Ushijima was waiting outside of the community center waiting for you to arrive it was 4:05pm and he was wondering where you were (knowing that your place was only a 10 minute drive away) he sent you a few texts asking where you were but when you don’t respond Ushijima becomes slightly annoyed, plastering a fake smile on his face and entering the community center, starting the easter egg hunt.
The easter egg hunt came to a close at 8pm and Ushijima assumed that you would’ve showed up some time in the middle of the event, but you obviously didn’t show. After making sure that all the kids left safely Ushijima decided to call and text you more and when you continuously don’t respond and your calls go to voicemail he says ‘Y/N, im really disappointed with you right now. How could you do this to me? You said you would show up, the kids were really upset, how could you be so selfish?’
He walks to your house knocking on the door, but when you don’t immediately answer he knew something must be up now, since you haven’t responded to any of his texts and calls and didn’t show up he figured there was something deeper then you just ditching the event.
He used his key to open the door, surprised when the door hit something. He tried again hitting the ‘object’ that was laying at the door again. He carefully pushes the door to make enough room for him to fit through the gap. When he entered, he was startled at the sight of you, there you lay completely knocked out with a blood stain next to your head. He knelt down next to you and touched your cheek you were extremely cold, he had to get you to a hospital stat. He called an ambulance, panicked. Worrying about how long you’ve been out for since it would have to be atleast more than 4 hours he assumed.
You woke up in a foreign room, with your head slightly stinging. You place your hand on the back of your head and wince, then you remember you need to be at the easter egg hunt so you bolt up ready to move.  
“I don’t think that’s wise for you to do that Y/N” Ushijima says to you  
“Toshi, what happened?” you ask still in pain
“It seems you fell down the stairs and hit your head” after he said that all your memories come flooding back, and you remember rushing to the community centre, looking for your keys, and then falling down the stairs and everything going black.
“I’m sorry Ushi for missing the easter egg hunt, I really tried to get there,” you say with an apologetic look on your face  
“It’s fine Y/N of course you wouldn’t of been able to get there after falling down the stairs” he says “Also, this is proof of why you shouldn’t run down the stairs”
You eventually get discharged with the doctor telling you all you need to do is rest and stay off your feet. Ushijima took the doctor's orders very seriously, becoming your loyal servant and waiting on you hand and foot, tending to your every need. He did also make you were eating healthy and taking all your medicine so you could have the best recovery possible.  
Also, after realising that this could’ve all been avoided if Ushijima didn’t guilt trip you in the first place for having a migraine, he made sure to never ignore or dismiss when you say you are ill or have anything wrong with you even if it’s a migraine, a lost limb or a simple paper cut.
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Bokuto  
The Olympics were coming up and Bokuto couldn’t be any more excited than he already was. Everything he’s talked about for the past month he manages to find a way to relate to the Olympics, and as annoying as it got sometimes you were just as excited for it as much as Bokuto was.  
Bokuto was heavily busy with extra practices so you were bored and lonely, since your boyfriend was at practice all the time so you chose to take up a new hobby. You decided to paint, although you weren’t an award-winning painter you still found joy in it. Being Bokuto’s girlfriend you had some slight unwanted attention on you: the usual fans of Bokuto that just followed you to have an extra aspect of him in their life's, or his fangirls that adored him.  
You didn’t mind the fangirls for the most part since majority of them were pretty tamed and did fawn over your relationship. However, there was the minority of fans that did make it known to you that they DID NOT like you at all. When you started posting your paintings, it seems their hate for you amplified since they always found the need to leave an astray of mean comments on your post. But that didn’t mainly bother you since you thought that they only had that energy behind the screen.
The days went by getting closer to the Olympics, with Bokuto always asking you every day “Y/N you are coming to my games, right?” to which you always replied “Of course Kou, I’m coming” which always made him smile.
When the Olympics came, you’ve went to all the games cheering Bokuto and the team on as they were winning round after round. Whilst this was going on, the group of girls that were sending you horrible messages and making mean posts about you weren’t stopping. At first, you didn’t care for them but it seems their posts only gotten worse making comments about your artwork, your face, your body type ect.  
You didn’t want to tell Bokuto as you felt that it would ruin his Olympic momentum and you thought you could handle it all on your own.  
It was nearing to the final game of the Olympics, and Bokuto was ecstatic he made sure that you promised you’d be there claiming that you was his ‘good luck’ charm.’ You were excited to go too, the feeling of watching Bokuto play was exhilarating seeing him fully in his element was great for you to see.
On the last game day, Boktuo was already at the stadium since him and the team had to be there earlier to practice and you planned to meet him there just before the game started at 4:30. You went to a florist before the match getting Bokuto the biggest boquet that you could buy.  
On your way to the stadium you here somebody whistle from behind you, you turn around and see a group of girls waiting behind you smirking. “Hi?” you say more like a question then a statement “do you want something from me?”
Some of them laugh, but the one standing at the front who you mentally lable the ‘main one’ steps closer to you and says “We want you to stay away from Bokuto” you realise that these were the girls sending you hate online for these past weeks.
Before you can even blink, the girls jump you, hitting, kicking and clawing at you. You are in pain, screaming and crying for them to stop and leave you alone. You lay there, letting them beat you up thinking that you’ll probably end up dead out of this. All you can think about is Bokuto, you didn’t get to wish him good luck, or give him your flowers (that you spent a fortune on) or even tell him that you loved him one last time.
You think the girls eventually stopped but you couldn’t tell because your body was throbbing and you hurt all over. You tried to get up still wanting to go to the match but you collapse going out cold.
Bokuto was scanning the crowd over and over for you, hoping to spot you there. But he couldn’t, he was wondering where you were getting sadder and sadder by the second since he really believed you were his good luck charm and he probably wouldn’t be able to win without at least seeing your face once.
They didn’t win. Bokuto knew he wasn’t playing at his best, since all his mind was on was thinking about where you were. You’ve never missed one of his games, so he was incredibly worried. After he accepted his second-place medal, he rushed out the stadium to go to your house but he was stopped by some fangirls ‘I guess signing autographs is the least I can do’ he thinks, the fans were being a bit odd today but he didn’t have time to focus on that as his mind was racing thinking about you and your whereabouts.  
One of his fans did give him an alarmingly big boquet of roses which he appreciated ‘these must of cost a fortune’ he thinks. Although it was a probably a long shot, he decided to ask the fan if he saw someone who looked like *whatever you look like* to maybe see if someone else saw you. Which the fan replied “yeah I saw them with some guy at this restaurant whilst we were going to see you!” they exclaimed.
‘A guy’ he thought ‘that most likely wasn’t you.’ Seeing Bokuto’s confusion, the fan followed up with “I'm pretty sure it was her I mean we all know who Bokuto Koutaro’s girlfriend was.” Bokuto didn’t reply just walking away making sure to thank them for the flowers.  
He was rushing towards your house on foot (since all the taxi’s and ubers were fully booked because of the Olympics) whilst running he stumbles across your passed out body all black and bruised with scratch marks and bleeding all over you. “what happened” he whispered, knowing you obviously weren’t going to respond.  
He picked up your near-dead body, and cradled you in his arms taking you back to the stadium (since he knew that getting an ambulance to come here or running to the hospital would basically be impossible.) When he got back to the stadium, he did get odd looks from strangers but he didn’t care, his only agenda was making sure you were okay.
You woke up, and saw Bokuto pacing the room repeatedly you tried to get his attention by saying his name but your throat was damaged. He eventually notices you and runs to your side, stroking your face softly and giving you a gentle hug making sure not to hurt you.  
“Who did this Y/N?” he asks with worry in his eyes  
You ignore his question and look at the silver medal wrapped around his neck making you sad “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the match, I tried I really did try” you said with your voice sounding even worse after you said every word.  
“Don’t be silly, I’m just glad that you’re okay babe, I was really worried about you.” he said
The Medic came in and said that you had multiple broken ribs, but beside that you were fine you just needed to rest your throat and let your bruises heal. You eventually told Bokuto that it was some of his fans, he was upset that you hid this from him for so long but he was just glad that he got to you as soon as he did. He managed to play at the next Olympics and you were there fully present, with your even bigger boquet of flowers watching win gold.
Authors Note: I tried to make it as close to your request as possible, but I hope you enjoy as I really do think this is my favourite work so far.... :3 Comments and feedback appreciated.
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hpimaginesandblurbs · 3 years
Note
Can you write a smut with Tom riddle where the reader and him are dating, and he’s obviously used to being in charge but one night something happens (you can decide that part) and suddenly the reader wants to be in charge but Tom doesn’t want that so she ties him up and teases her till he’s begging her to let him cum or something like the idk.
I absolutely love ur writing, it’s absolutely incredible I could never write anything as good as you!😊
pairing: tom riddle x reader
warning(s): 18+, dom/sub roles (ish), begging, magical ties, oral (make receiving), mentions of oral (female receiving) 
word count: 2.0k
a/n: and we’re back to our regularly scheduled smut. i have a ton of requests so be patient - i will get to it! thank you all for the love and support so far! 
You and your boyfriend, Tom, were strolling through the halls of Hogwarts on your Prefect rounds, enjoying the complete silence of the massive castle. It was rare the halls were this quiet, but late at night tended to be the perfect time to stumble upon echoing walls and corridors where you could hear a pin drop. 
Suddenly, Tom stopped in his tracks and stuck out a hand to stop you as well. “Do you hear that?” He asked in a hush whispering, pointing somewhere off to the left of where both of you stood. 
Following his direction, you turned your head to the left and saw that it was a typically abandoned corridor but you did hear the faint rustle of clothing and distant female giggling. You rolled your eyes and began walking in that direction, already knowing you’d have to break up two young people just wanting to have a bit of fun. It wasn’t that you wanted to spoil their good time, but it was an unspoken rule that if a Prefect caught you, they had no other choice unless they themselves wanted to end up in trouble. 
As you approached, wands drawn in order to cast a lumos charm, Tom put his body in front of you, taking charge. 
“I can handle it,” you whispered, a pout brought to your face. 
He didn’t even stop his movement, just kept walking even as he shot you a smirk. You rolled your eyes in frustration. He did this every time. You were perfectly capable of breaking up two horny teenagers and sending them off to bed, but he always had to be the one in charge. You were growing quite sick of it.
He got there before you and handled the situation with a dominant grace that only he seemed to possess, and he sent the two fifth years scattering on the way back to their respective common rooms. Without even another look in your boyfriends direction, you went stalking the other way and were determinately headed back to the Slytherin common room. 
“Get back here,” he said with a warning in his voice, following you nonetheless. 
“No. I’m going to bed,” you said rather loudly, not faltering in your steps. 
“Oh for the love of Merlin, what’s wrong?” He asked, his long legs giving him the ability to catch up with you. 
“You,” was your bitter reply. 
“Me? What have I done?” He asked incredulously. 
“Yes, you, Tom,” you said, finally halting in your steps and swinging around to face him. “You always have to be the one in charge. I could have easily handled that, like I said, but no. You just had to go and- and-,” you explained, waving your hands animatedly, but you trailed off once you realized this entire conversation was pointless. He wasn’t just going to change his incessant behavior no matter what you said. Besides, the smirk on his face as he looked down at you just proved it was a losing battle. 
“Darling, I hate to burst your bubble but you’ll never be in charge while I’m around. You don’t have to be,” he explained, attempting to be gentle through his cocky demeanor but his words only sent you into another flurry. 
“You want a bet? That I can’t be in charge?” You asked heatedly, your mind already slipping straight into the gutter. 
He paused for a moment, then finally sighed and raised an eyebrow. “Fine,” he agreed, “but you only get one chance so don’t mess it up for yourself.” 
~~~
The moment the two of you entered Tom’s private room, your lips were on each other and you took the initiative to slowly back him up into the bed until he had no choice but to sit with you standing before him. His grip on your waist was tight, but you had other plans for his hands anyways. 
The entire walk down to the dungeons, you had been plotting. You needed to prove to him that you could be in charge. Sure, it was nice that you had a boyfriend willing to take charge in all situations and you never had to worry about a thing, but you still felt the incessant need to prove yourself. 
“Take your clothes off and lie on the bed,” you told him when you pulled away from the kiss, attempting to emulate the demeanor he always gave off in situations like this. 
You heard him chuckle to himself, still under the impression that you couldn’t pull this off, but he did as you asked anyways. Finally, he was laying naked on the bed, completely relaxed against the pillows and looking at you expectantly. 
“Do you worst, Y/N,” he jested, his hand moving to trail down to his half erect cock but you stopped him in his tracks. 
“Did I say you could do that?” You asked, holding his wrist in your grip. His eyes darted up to yours and he looked shocked for a moment, but that look in his eyes went away in a flash as the signature smirk came back. 
He put his hand back down on the duvet and you climbed into the bed with him, straddling his legs. When he had been busy undressing, you undressed yourself down to your bra and panties. Little did he know what you had hidden underneath was a matching set. 
“Keep your hands right there. You’re gonna be a good boy for me tonight, right?” You cooed, trailing kisses from his neck down to his abdomen as you spoke. 
“The best,” he shot back with a sarcastic wink and it only made you chuckle to yourself because he truly had no idea what was coming. 
You continued your trail of kisses until you were firmly planted between his legs and your mouth was inches away from his cock. He was fully erect now and could feel your breath against his, making his cock twitch with anticipation. 
“Beg,” you demanded, refusing to touch him until he did at least the bare minimum, only placing kisses on his pelvis and thighs. 
“Please, Y/N. I’d love to cum down your throat right now,” he said lowly, but you could tell the begging was noncommittal. That would change. 
You easily complied, wanting him to think he had the upper hand, and immediately brought him into your mouth. You loved sucking his cock. He was warm and heavy on your tongue, and the noises he made always made you dripping wet. He wasn’t disappointing tonight. 
He released a low groan the second he felt his tip hit the back of your throat and he bucked his hips up, but you pushed the back down with force. You continued your ministrations, just waiting for him to lose himself. When you took him all the way down your throat, he lost it. 
His hands tangled in your hair as he tried to hold you down on him, cutting off your air supply, but you were prepared for this. He loved face fucking you and you knew if you had his mouth on his he just wouldn’t be able to resist. You reached for your wand that was strategically placed beside his leg on the bed and cast a silent spell. Immediately, his hands were removed from your hair and magically tied to the bed frame, locked into place. 
“What the fuck, Y/N?” He asked, seething. 
When you pulled off of his, you could see it in his eyes how angry he was. He didn’t think you had this in you. But how could he be so naive when you had learned from him? The best? 
“Where did I tell you to keep your hands?” You asked him, using one hand to lightly stroke his cock as you spoke. 
“The bed. Fuck. Let me out,” he demanded, struggling against his confines. 
“I don’t think I will,” you answered, suppressing a laugh. “After all, I am in charge.” 
You didn’t even give him a chance to reply, taking him in your mouth again and keeping your hands on his hips to hold them down. He didn’t have much leverage from this angle, so you knew it would be no problem. 
You dragged moan after moan from him, bringing him right to the edge and back down quite a few times until he was a sweating, writhing mess below you. You knew he was frustrated beyond belief, he had done this to you too many times to count. How did he like the taste of his own medicine? 
You weren’t even sure how long it had been going on for, but your jaw was beginning to ache and you were praying to Circe he cracked soon. That non committed begging from earlier was about to be real genuine soon if you had anything to say about it. 
You pulled off of him once more and your eyes snapped to his face. His hair was stuck to his forehead and neck, his chest was rapidly expanding and contracting, trying his best to get his breathing back under control, and there was a fury in his eyes so unmatched that you knew you’d be paying for this later. 
“Tell me what you want, Tom. Beg for it. Be a good boy for me, yeah?” You instructed, your hands massaging small circles into his tense thighs, willing him to relax into it. 
You could see the conflict in his face. He didn’t want to concede to you, wanting to prove his own point that you couldn’t, or shouldn’t have to be, in charge around him. But you knew how badly he wanted to cum. He cock was flushed such a dark shade of red that you were sure it had to hurt by now. He was aching for it, aching for you to get him there and let him cum in your mouth. 
“Fucking hell. Please, Y/N, let me fucking cum. Please,” he said breathlessly, his whole body limp against the bed as he stared up at you imploringly. 
A rush of power shot through, knowing you deny him so easily in the moment - leave him tied up and begging and wanting and aching. If you kept this up for much longer you know you’d end up on some sort of power trip. You knew he was letting you have this, letting you have his submission, but it still felt so damn good. 
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You asked with a gleeful grin before immediately getting back to work, your sights set on getting him the release he had begged for. 
“Fuck. Please don’t be cruel. Let me cum Y/N,” he continued to babble when he felt the warmth of your mouth again, his mind lost to the pleasure his body was feeling. 
That only made you work harder, wanting to show him a shred of mercy for the night he had endured. After all, he was a good boy for you throughout most of it. 
His entire body tenses again right before he exploded into your mouth was a loud groan. His body trembled as warm ropes of cum shot down your throat and onto your tonugue. You suckled greedily from the head, getting every last drop out, until he was squirming against the sheets. When you finally came up, he was still breathing heavily and his head was thrown back against the pillows. 
You crawled up the bed to lay beside him, looking over his body in appreciation. He was glistening from sweat and completely still now other than his breathing. 
“Are you going to let me out now?” He asked bitterly, attempting to move his hands from the ties as he looked over at you. 
“Oh c’mon. You know that was fun. And besides, I think I’d like to sit on your face next,” you said with a giggle, watching his face fall into another shocked expression. You would forever remember this night as a lesson well taught.
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hopeyallenjoy · 3 years
Text
First time
Tell me the truth Severus. Don't you want me?
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Pairing : Young Severus Snape x Fem!Reader 
Warnings : slights smut ; severus switch and reader switch ; dom/sub kink ; little bit of swearing ; alone at house ; bathroom teasing 
Wordcount : 3,504 words
Request : Marauder era Severus x reader’s first time 
Resume : That’s the same request as “An eventful birthday” but I did it with a more bold reader and only Severus' first time. Hope you’ll enjoy it just as much ! 
Y/l/n = Your last name Y/n = Your name 
"She asked you what?" said Lucius as he and Severus headed to their common room.
"She invited me to come spend the weekend at her house over the vacations," Severus repeated, rolling his eyes to the sky.
"Tell me mate, you've been dating Y/l/n for how long now?" Lucius as he opened the door to their dormitory.
"9 months." he replied.
"And you've already gone beyond a simple kiss? You know, despite what they say about young wizards, it's the young women who are the most hormone-driven. Think about it, Severus! That's why they're all so obsessed with love. They need a man and they need him to be their own to calm their ardor. And it's even truer for the veela.”
Severus shook his head negatively, setting his things down on his bed. Lucius couldn't help but smile mischievously at his friend.
"What are you getting at?" he asked when Malfoy didn't continue.
"My point is that she didn't invite you to chat. She wants you, Severus Snape, the dark male, to take over and make her your bitch.” Severus widened his eyes, not expecting such a revelation.
Was this really the case? You were a former student of Durmstrang Institute who had arrived at Hogwarts at the beginning of seventh year even though you were already of age. Because of the reputation of your former school, rumors about you had spread within a week of school, claiming that you were an accomplished black mage or a monster from the darkness, a cross between a veela and a vampire. You ended up in Slytherin, which wasn't entirely in your favor. You even had to deal with the most popular students in the school who were self-appointed protectors of Hogwarts and wanted to check the rumors.  Luckily for you, you were persuasive. You weren't a dark mage or a monster, but you had learned enough from Durmstrang to stand up for yourself and stop anyone from stepping on your toes.
After your little show of strength, girls started coming to you when a boy bothered them and guys who thought they were irresistible, like Lucius Malfoy or Sirius Black, came to try their luck with you. You'd packed them all, one by one. None of these boys were interesting for you, you only had eyes for your Potions and DADA partner, Severus Snape, the only one who didn't ogle your form even when he thought you didn't see him, the only one who shared your curiosity about dark magic, and especially the only one who didn't seem to be interested in you. That's what you liked about him, he really wasn't interested in you, or at least not more than in friendship, until you spent more and more time with him and finally confessed your love. 
In fact, you didn't really do that, you two just kissed on a full moon night in the astronomy tower and it was so natural between you that you just started acting like a couple. Holding hands during Hogsmeade outings or during classes, kissing for hours in your common room while all the other students were watching Quidditch matches, taking turns reading  poetry under the moonlight every night or so. In short, everything was done in a natural way, without the need for embarrassing confessions or the obligation to call each other ridiculous names. No, you had no obligation to each other, you just saw other as you pleased, doing the things you liked and it was just... perfect. 
The more Severus thought about it, the more he thought how stupid it would be to change that.
Add sex to such a perfect relationship? No way. It wasn't that he didn't find you attractive, on the contrary, he simply found you breath taking and sometimes wondered what such a beauty was doing by his side but he wasn’t sure that sex was for him. Sex was always something you grow tired of, and there was so much about it that he didn't know, he was sure he would disappoint you if you ever introduced sex to your relationship. Everything Severus Snape knew about sex, Lucius had told him, and if there was one thing he had learned from his friend's stories, it was that sex was complicated. 
Then when he presented himself in front of the door of the manor Y/l/n, he was well decided to keep his pants on. He knocked and expected to see one of your parents open the door for him, but he came face to face with your little face when the big door was fully opened. His eyes didn't leave your face but his peripheral vision allowed him to see that you were dressed a little lightly for the season, a simple t-shirt pulled over your tantalizing curves. He swallowed hardly. Keeping his pants on seemed much more difficult now. 
"Hello, Sev'. I see you're still on time. You'll excuse me, this time it's me who's a little late." you gave him your best smile and invited him to come in "My parents aren’t here so I took the opportunity to sleep in a little longer.”
Well, that wasn't entirely true, but he didn't need to know that, did he? You'd been up for a while and had spent the morning getting ready for the special weekend ahead. Despite the blasé expression you wore, inside you, your hormones and your heart were racing. Your little Severus was just beautiful and you were even more aware of it now that you saw him without his school uniform.
“Do you mind if I go put something on quickly?“ you asked without noticing the gleam of desire in the eyes of your companion. 
He shook his head negatively too happy that you propose of yourself to remove this angelic vision of which he had difficulty to get out. Merlin what you could be beautiful. You left to change your clothes after taking him into the great hall. Severus was trying to calm his imagination as he gazed out at the garden of your house that could be seen from the living room window. He was still standing there when you returned from your room, looking so absorbed that you had to pull him by the sleeve to get his attention. When he turned around he was breathless again. You had changed but your new outfit didn't help his case at all. You were now wearing a flowing black knee-length dress with a white corset that showed off your slim waist and gently carried your swaying breasts. If he was to believe what he saw, you weren't wearing a bra and he hoped... no panties either. 
"Severus...are you okay?" you questioned as he said nothing.
Severus quickly pulled himself together, serving you one of his grinning smiles that only he had the secret to. What was he talking about? Wasn't he the one who wanted to keep your relationship simple and natural? As recently as thirty minutes ago? And now he was the one who imagined you fucking on the floor, after having torn off your little black dress. This weekend was getting more and more complicated for him. He nodded nevertheless seeing the worried look that you threw to him, the back of your hand put on his forehead as if to see if he had a fever.
"Are you sure? You're all red?" he took your hand, squeezing it gently.
"Yes, yes. It's just your beauty that bewitches me," he said, placing a light kiss on your hand.
It was your turn to blush. Severus' compliments were rare and always came when you least expected them, so when he complimented you, you took full advantage. You kissed him tenderly.
"Idiot. You scared me."
He savored her words in turn, still not used to someone worrying about him and showing it.
"I should scare you more often if you kiss me like that every time" he murmured a sneer stretching his lips.
"You know very well that I would kiss you every day like that even if I wasn't worried. You just have to ask me or... do it on your own.”
At the fiery look you gave him, Severus stiffened and looked away a little.
"Do you have a chess set? It's been a long time since I've played against the grand queen of chess," he said in an attempt to divert your attention.
This worked in part, you nodded and went to get your chess set and then you sat down at the small table near the window. It was a hectic late afternoon of battles and verbal jousting, all of it friendly and good-natured. Even if your thoughts were turned to the particular behavior of your boyfriend. You wanted to wait for him to come and explain to you on his own what was the problem but you were sure he wouldn't. You didn't embarrass him with a serious discussion though, not wanting to spoil the wonderful weekend ahead. And you were right. Severus, on the other hand, was having a hard time concentrating, with hot scenarios taking up all his attention. If you had always been a bit daring, he had never noticed before, too busy admiring your little face or your knowledge of dark magic. And now he was biting his fingers, having the impression to rediscover the wild beauty that you were.
Laughing loudly, arm in arm, you entered the kitchen, your bellies rumbling. You brought in the leftovers from the night before and you gobbled them up in a few seconds, neither you nor he being picky in terms of food and it wasn't as if you had eaten mud, quite the contrary. 
It was your father who had made the food the day before. He had deliberately prepared more food than he needed, not wanting to leave his princess without food during the long weekend he was going to spend away from you.Because yes, you had fought for your parents, especially your father, to leave you at the mansion alone. Yet they knew you could handle yourself, after six consecutive years at Durmstrang, it was rare not to know how to handle yourself. 
The meal was just as nerve-wracking for Severus as he couldn't help but make you laugh which made your breasts jiggle under the thin fabric of your dress. You even bent down to grab the pepper on the table which allowed him to see that you were indeed not wearing a bra. He almost choked, his imagination and hormones still running wild. By the end of the meal, Severus was convinced that he was going to lose his mind before the end of the weekend if it continued like this.
"Y /n, could I know where the bathroom is? I'd like to take a shower before I go to sleep, if that's possible," Severus asked, convinced that a nice cold shower would put his mind at ease.
"Oh, of course. The bathroom is upstairs. It's the first door on the left. Do you need me to lend you something? Slippers, a nightgown?” you asked as a particularly Machiavellian idea appeared in your mind.
At this point of the evening, you had understood that your boyfriend, who you thought was so innocent, had started to understand that you were no longer a child and that your body was indeed the one of a young adult. Seeing him almost choke at each movement you made and that revealed a little more of your forms, was, it had to be said, a most amusing spectacle. So you let him go up the stairs to the bathroom and slowly followed him once the plates were washed and put away.
Meanwhile, Severus had slipped out of his black clothes and into the bathtub, which was filled to the brim. It wasn't every day that he could afford a nice hot bath and he was sure you wouldn't mind if he took a few drops of the Muggle lotions that adorned the rim of the big tub. He slipped all the way into the water, after a deep breath, desperate to calm his ardor. If Severus Snape was so determined not to give in to temptation it was mainly due to the bad treatment he had received from the Marauders, humiliating him to the point where his body was dripping and he was unable to touch himself, even alone. So how could he have succeeded in maintaining a carnal relationship with anyone? Love, love was different, he felt it and managed to express it, but sex? Very little for him. Finally, this afternoon spent by your side had shown him that even if the thing seemed inconceivable to him, he was still capable of desiring someone. And to want you, he wanted you really bad. He opened his eyes, his head still immersed in the bathtub, and saw through the water a figure towering over him. He emerged from the water recognizing your little face. 
There you were, standing in front of him, you had left your corset behind and were now wearing only your black dress. Your face was still impassive.
"Y/n? What the..." he began.
"Sev', do you love me?" you didn't let him finish, starting your Machiavellian plan. "Because I'm starting to doubt it, you know? You've been acting weird ever since you got here. So tell me the truth, Severus. Don't you want me?" as you spoke his words, you let your robe slip off at your feet showing yourself completely naked to him. 
Severus could not believe his eyes. In that moment, he couldn't stop his eyes from devouring you, his cheeks from turning red, and his sex from growing. The fire that swept over him was so sudden that it took his breath away. You were satisfied with your little effect, but when Severus didn't move, just clung to the edge of the tub, you slid as sensually as possible into the bath without taking your eyes off him. Severus watched you, holding his breath. Yes, you were definitely going to drive him crazy. 
"-Severus, how do I look?" you asked again as he still hadn't said anything.
"Y/n... You don't know what you're saying. I... I want you so much, you can't even imagine how much but..." Severus was short of breath, "I've never done anything, never even t-touched myself. I wouldn't know how to... I wouldn't know how to do it and I could only..." you cut him off, kissing him gently as tears of frustration flooded down his face.
 You felt a little bad now that you knew the truth. You had never wanted to made him cry but you understood that he needed to cry so you let him, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, in fact, everything that was within your reach, wanting to reassure him a maximum.
"Shhhhh Sev'... It's okay, don't worry. I'm here.  Shhhhhh... Oh boy ! I could never be disappointed in you, Sev' I assure you. So please don't cry anymore. I hate seeing you like this. I love you so much, you know." you continued to kiss him with your arms around his neck.
"I-i love you so much t-too ," he replied between sobs. 
Severus was drowning in your affection, his whole body burning. He felt so good in your arms, covered in your kisses. You covered him with tender kisses for another moment, telling him how beautiful he was in your eyes between two kisses. Once the sadness passed, he wanted to return your affection, covering the zebra skin of your breasts with soft kisses which felt like butterfly wings. Then the butterflies became more urgent as your hand clung to his ebony hair and your lips let out sighs of pleasure. You pulled your lover's face up to steal a passionate kiss, your two foreheads finally pressed together, your body slightly elevated as Severus had his arms around your waist.
"Do you... do you want to go all the way Sev'? I certainly don't want to force you to do anything you don’t want, love."
How? Weren't you supposed to not give him ridiculous nicknames? I don't remember saying that. Severus nodded, pulling you tighter against him.
"Guide me, Y/n," he breathed.
His voice was infused with desire, as was his entire body. He was overflowing and tense with desire beyond your touch. You placed his hands in the places you knew were your pleasure points, guiding him to know what to do. His lips came to rest on your neck as you told him to, as your hands slid gently through the cool bath water to land on his crotch. It may have been hard to believe but Severus Snape was very well built, his sex was moderate in size but not all the way down, his base and glans were wider than the rest. It was also slightly curved towards the glans. If you hadn't already had other relationships you wouldn't have realized just by touching him, that Severus was just perfect for you. Your fingers began to do him good, drawing grunts from him that made your skin tingle as he didn't stop his attentions. When you felt him grow a little larger in your hands you stopped your stroking, spreading your own legs just enough for him to enter.
"Severus... I want to cum with you..." he understood the invitation taking his sex in his hands and positioning it facing the entrance to your pussy. 
He didn't really know what to do once he entered so it was you who guided him again, initiating back and forth, impaling yourself a little more each time, your hands resting on his shoulders. Severus moaned with each return, feeling your insides react to his member. You weren't especially tight, but he was still able to fill you up completely. You guided him for a moment and then he felt confident enough to take over. Slowly but surely, he varied the strength of his thrusts. Then he added his lips in your neck making you plant your nails in his shoulders when a so good and... unexpected pleasure. Instinctively, he squeezed you tighter as the last thrust inside you came accompanied by waves of immeasurable pleasure. He had finished before you but you were so close to cumming that you couldn't stop a groan of frustration from coming out of your mouth.
"This one is different from the others. Did I hurt you?" Severus fretted as he came to stop, causing you to let out another frustrated moan.
"No, no, no ! I... Can you go on a little longer, please? I'm not far..." you whispered in his ear. 
He undulated his pelvis gently under you, a sneer coming to perch on his lips.
 "What exactly do you want, Y/n? I need you to explain it to me precisely, please. I don't think I'm experienced enough yet to understand your demands without you finishing your sentences," he said, kissing your temple. 
He knew perfectly well what he was doing now. You wanted to protest by realizing it but it had started again to undulate under you, letting out of your mouth only words drowned between your moans. He ended up kissing your temple again, letting you breathe and waiting for your answer. 
"I want you to fuck me until... Until I cum Severus, please!" you finally managed to articulate making Severus' smile grew wider and wider.
"Gladly, love," he replied as he began to pound you again. 
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borkthemork · 2 years
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Finally cleaned up this draft based on @/popcornbee’s art and it is now officially on AO3 as well, so I hope all of you enjoy!
---
There were numerous pathways for a sparrow to travel. Following their migration patterns, they'd travel down to warmer lands, typically somewhere protected for the nights. In doing so, they'd rest in the winter and return back all new. Refreshed for the upcoming springs and summers.
For American Tree Sparrows, these patterns were necessary to survive.
For Joe Sparrow, the true information depended. 
He liked to flit about on rapid wing beats. He preferred curdled mealworms due to previous battles hurting his digestive system. For migration, he remained stubborn on whether he liked the warmer breezes or if the Newtopian stables were of true home than anything else.
Newtopia had a history of domestic birds. Joe Sparrow was the mixed case when he grew all-natural, got captured and owned by one or more owners who called him previous names, and then found Marcy in the middle of sweltering rain. Where a mission lead to something new and surprising, bold and unorthodox, and the moment Joe saved her — chose her hand of all people — Marcy promised to keep him safe. Safe, protected, cared for.
And nothing had pulled these two away from each other. Not even the fleeting concept of gravity. Or the fact winter threatened his nests.
Anne asked about him before. On one occasion, where Marcy groomed him under Plantar barn shade, Anne looked at his big, round, puffy belly and wondered out loud where the scar above his eye fit in out of all things.
Of course, Marcy had the answer.
“Oh, you know Joe,” she sighed. “He keeps pushing his limits. You won’t believe how many scars this bad boy got during his old career. For the eye one, he actually got that scar back when he was just a fledgling, but this was during the morally ethical times where amphibians didn’t really care for mounts unless they were battle resistant.”
Her hand parsed through his plume, giggling when Joe tweeted pleasantly against her skin. “But now he’s in a morally ethical place, aren’t you, boy? Yes, you are.”
Anne snorted. She ruffled Joe’s feathers too, and the two giggled quietly when the sparrow seemed to lean into the touch. Almost as if the sparrow connected immediately to Anne.
And Anne teared up over the thought. “It’s just like mother nature intended.”
The week afterward reminded Marcy of her sparring days, but instead of swords and smoke bombs, she had worms and patience. Lots of patience as Anne attempted to feed some mesh into Joe’s beak — and ultimately got stuck when she leaned too hard into his mouth.
It was funny how all this bonding time left her blind to anything else on the schedule. Marcy could instruct Anne to direct the mealworms to Joe for hours and still find Anne’s laughter to be the highlight of her day. Maybe Joe would sit on Anne, and leave her yelling and laughing under floof-fulls of bird, and Marcy would sketch that scene than the typical mission schematics Lady Olivia instructed her to look through.
Marcy hypothesized that Joe's love for attention spurned her focus. It made sense for birds to tease if they didn’t get the proper reaction out of people. It made sense for a bird such as Joe to find affection in someone who exuded goodness from their heart. But then Marcy would remember Anne. For Anne had Joe’s affection at the palm of her hands but irritated the bird enough to prefer dipping her into a nearby pond just for the sake of playfighting. And that enough had gotten her intrigued.
Was it another phenomenon she needed to analyze? To understand fully until the cusp of discovery?
Perhaps. Not right now though.
Marcy had found a breakthrough. A breakthrough in Animal-Human Sociology. But her focus lingered elsewhere, came down to how she rested next to a bucket load of dirty feathers — snoring into her best friend’s shoulder until the moon rose high above the Amphibian mountains.
---
When Marcy stared through the sky, and the act alone reminded her so much of Kid Icarus. If she ignored the wings branching out from the corners of her eyes, and only focused on the colors then she thought of herself as flying. Flying through skies that bled yellows and reds like Aivazovsky, framed so well against the crisp horizons that Marcy could almost paint the perfectest picture in her mind.
And when wind buffered her hair, parted the clouds with her hands, she swore that the taste on her tongue was of fresh saltwater.
Navigation. Freedom. The fades from orange to blue to maroon. Marcy loved riding for a reason. She held onto Joe’s reins with the utmost quickness, spelled out her name with short dives and leaps through cumulus tufts. And in the aftermath, she wrung her coat dry of moisture.
At least, until Anne became a priority.
Anne Boonchuy. Friend of ten years. Friends since the term friends became part of the Merriam Webster. Now, the latter sounded silly, but friendship could be a frank concept at times, it was something Marcy had no clue how to navigate, and yet Anne found her and decided Marcy was worth her time.
So they were here now: One readying an avian saddle, the other petting Joe’s tufts with the heaviest affection. And aw, Joe seemed to like it, what with the amount of cooing he’d been doing for the past hour.
Not like Marcy didn’t want to get in on that action. She just needed to finish clipping on the latches — and when she did that, it would be go-time, her a-game.
“Anne, can you push me that satchel?”
“Sure thing, Marce.” With ease, Anne somehow lugged a chair-sized bag over to where Marcy was, and they remained silent afterward as she finished the remainder of preparations.
What preparations? Well, the kind that remained out of her league.
“Sooo, where are ya’ going, exactly?” Anne asked. She had the same perturbed look to her ever since she whiffed the scents from the bag itself.
Marcy couldn’t help but rub her neck, not knowing how well to respond. “Well, I’ve been planning to scout an area somewhere high up in the Southern sect of Amphibia. I got wind that some bandits plan to use a route to jump ambassadors from here and there on the pathways, and I just wanted to make sure that doesn’t happen again, you know?"
“For sure, dude. I mean, you are the boss after all. That stuff’s gotta be pretty important if you’re getting loads of homework for it.”
“Well,” Marcy puckered her lips. She was right in some sense. Chief rangers plopped themselves into some high category up in the Newtopian ranks. It made sense. “Correct, kinda. I don’t really call it a boss position, more so a job. A very fun job, actually. You’d be surprised at how many prefer office desks to infantry, it’s nuts.”
Although, the more she thought about it, being able to stay safe in a big ole’ cube than getting skewered by bandits did sound appealing. Less probability for harm, sure. But Marcy loved the hunt way too much for her own good.
If Andrias gave her another objective, she might as well do a little dance at this point; there was always something exciting to partake in.
And with Joe, the fun always doubled with him.
At least, until she remembered that Anne had been staring at her, snapping her fingers in front of Marcy’s nose. “Marbles, you good? Another zone-out moment again?”
“Oh yeah, definitely. Thanks, I was about to get worried, the internal dialogue I had was getting way too extensive for my taste."
"Well, now that you’re out of your internal dialogue stuff, I got to ask.” Anne peered at Joe again. “Can I get on your bird?”
Marcy blinked at her. “Oh. Of course. You don’t really need to ask me if you’re curious about riding him.”
“I know, but he’s a big softie, really wanted to make sure I got your permission before anything else.” She coughed. “Plus I’m not gonna take any vehicles without permission. Tried that once. Didn’t go so hot.”
Somehow, Marcy found herself giggling. She couldn’t pinpoint why; Anne’s honesty must’ve just been that funny. “Well, if you want to jump on the SS Joe Sparrow, I’d be happy to show you around and get you a front-row ticket to some action.”
“For real?” Anne beamed, only for her expression to melt into a frown, scratching her chin at the thought. “Aren’t you on ranger duty though?”
Okay, she had a point there. “I mean, yeah, but I’ve mainly done this stuff solo. Sure I’ve got Joe to accompany me but it’ll be interesting to have a second person on board for the ride.” Without a skip in her beat. “And why wouldn’t I have you go with me? Of course, I would. You’re always the best on road trips.”
And with that, Anne’s smile grew tenfold. Oddly beautiful. Oddly hard to describe. Weirder to even have herself think those things in the first place. “Count me in, then. Let’s go, Marbles!”
Oh well. She’d think about that later.
---
Joe softened his landings in-between. And at certain points, when the mountains dipped to valleys he rocketed around and buffeted the gales just for the heck of it. He had the heart of a little kid sometimes, every moment he swooped through some current or plummet forward if he got the chance. He liked to make himself seem so grand when he cheeped. And Marcy confided in the idea that no matter how aged this sparrow would become, he’d still be the softest avian around.
Always there. Always playful. Always…eager for potential mates. He was the total package for best mount in all of Amphibia, and Marcy didn’t want it any other way.
So with Anne, Marcy became delighted when Joe kept that same kindness. It wasn’t just Marcy doing rough landings against solid ground or her zipping through the air. There were two people, two people to consider on the back of his saddle.
And Joe never disappointed her. He pivoted, swerved on command, and coaxed giggles from the girl behind her, whose arms pressed tightly to her waist until their hair puffed out from the wind.
“Keep your arms locked in, Annie B!”
Marcy’s hands whipped the reins, whooping at the top of her lungs when the dive pushed oceans of air into their faces.
The straps and belts dug into their laps when Joe pulled up, braced them in a loop-de-loop that had their eyes rolling when they finally exited out to a steady level.
And Marcy could hear the laughter behind her.
The laughter spoke of so much joy and happiness, of a symphony that Marcy had heard so many times before, and Marcy leaned into her warmth when they passed from the hallowed groves to the shimmering Newtingale creaks.
All throughout the Southern sect, all throughout the faint rattle of Marcy’s heart.
---
The ride home had been a lot darker than Marcy expected. For most of her trips in and out of the valleys, a lot of her path-finding culminated in something one could describe as an adventure. If one described her and Anne beating up an entire bandit group disguised as a clown posse to be an adventure, then yes. That was what happened.
They went head-to-head, toe-to-toe. All while decked out in white makeup and smelly rotten clown noses. This all sounded ridiculous, but out in Amphibia, one should never ever underestimate a theatre group.
For entertainment was their cruelest weapon.
Anne had been the first to ambush the bandits during the mission. With the agile reflexes of a cat, she deflected each oncoming slash with ease while Marcy took aim, calculated her crossbow trajectory until the enemies all knocked unconscious in the mud.
If one ignored the clown get-up, then what she talked about seemed like a typical day for Marcy. Always saving someone. Always doing her best. Always making sure no newts got chewed up by some toad or frog dressed up in rogue wear.
But the difference today was that she had someone to accompany her. Or how that same someone jumped onto Joe and gave that feisty bird a few scratches to his feathers, trying to wash her face in the water bucket they stored earlier today.
It all seemed domestic-like. The kind that Marcy dreamed about in fantasy stories, where the protag had a close ally to travel the world until their dying breaths.
And gosh, it was so cool that Anne became that friend.
She seemed to enjoy it too, what with the close embrace when they finally took off for the night, her chin propped on her cloaked shoulder, or the fact her exhales drifted in crisp Amphibian air.
A sign that she was enjoying everything. Everything from the swoop of Joe’s wings, the purple haze of the night, or how the moon cloaked their forms in red lighting — masking the landscape in darkness like a blanket over bedding.
Anne sighed contently. Her face nestled close to Marcy’s neck. She didn’t show that she regretted being here.
Not one bit.
“I’ve never been this high up before,” she mumbled. “The only times I did were when some creature flung me up into the middle of nowhere.”
Marcy hummed to that. Anne's fingers ghosted the triceps of Marcy's arms, left goosebumps to form and bristle in the cold, it made everything feel weird. Comfortable. Safe. “So is this less traumatizing and more exciting then?”
“Oh yeah, definitely.” Her voice rang, all charmed and sweet. “By a long shot.”
And Marcy was glad about that. Ever since she found Joe, a lot of her adventures had gotten easier to deal with. From zooming over to the Dry Swamp to the many forests hidden deep underneath solid canopies, one of the many pros of having a steed like Joe was of the view.
A view that made scouting ten times easier. The kind that entangled her in clouds, the song of avians, and the dance of the breeze. The kind that chilled her nose, left cumulus droplets on her thumbs, and when she settled down from grazing the upper layers of oxygen her body’s equilibrium warmed her up like it always intended to.
To have Anne feel that same experiences — the same elation — made the trip all the more worth it. Especially when Marcy’s skin grew warmer under non-equilibrium circumstances. All due to the cuddly contact.
Oh, Anne.
“If you want, I know a froggy pitstop nearby that sells slushies twenty-four-seven,” Marcy said softly. Joe went into a descent, already maneuvered by Marcy’s quick hands at the reins. They weren’t going to land yet. At least until Anne said so. “Wouldn’t hurt to take in the view on a full stomach.”
“That sounds amazing.” Anne pressed closer, and Marcy tried not to think about the murmur, how low it rumbled against Marcy’s ear. Gosh, she must be really relaxed by now. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m ready for some grub.”
“Well, they aren’t really grubs more like a mish-mash of every insect on the palette.”
“I try not to think about it.”
With laughter escaping them, Marcy directed Joe into the forest space below, her heart synced with the beat of sparrow wings.
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loveofafangirl · 3 years
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A Promise
[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]
Pairing: Baron Zemo x F!Reader/You  (no race or body type described)
Synopsis: You accompany Zemo to the Sokovia Memorial. *Hurt/Comfort*
Background: After protecting a child in Latvia, Zemo offers you his services to assist with tending to your wounds. You invite him to stay the night at your home.  This is a follow up to The Right Thing. It can probably be read as a standalone, but it is the same reader/character from that story and picks up the next morning. 
Word Count: ~2,000
TW: mentions of previous character death/death of a child; grief centric; angst with uncertain ending. 
A/N: I know my fluffy Zemo stories are more popular but in my HC, you don’t get Soft!Zemo without putting in the work and helping him through his deep-rooted grief. So it’s important to me to explore this side of him too, as there is no redemption possible without it. My HC is that you can read this reader throughout almost all of the stories. 
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The floorboards in your old apartment creak in the quiet of the morning, you strain your ears, listening to your guest's movements. You continue preparing breakfast, hopeful that he might join you, but the footsteps lead away instead of nearer. 
You follow the sound, noting how the area where he had slept had since been tidied. 
"You don't have to leave," you offer with a subtle shrug as you approach the entrance. "Stay...at least for breakfast."
His lips pull at the corners as he nods in contemplation, but you can tell by the strained expression he had already decided to go. "Thank you for the hospitality, but I must depart." 
His hand taps almost subconsciously over one of the inner pockets of his long dark grey coat. Your mind drifts back to the previous night when he had offered the garment to you. You had noticed a small bear tucked inside. You had been curious but hadn't wished to pry. 
"There is something I must do," he stated solemnly.
You nod your understanding. You knew he wouldn't stay; why would he? Nevertheless, something inside of you begged you not to let him go. You watch as he continues toward the door. At the last moment, you take a quick step forward.
"Wait!" You blurt out with more volume than you had intended. "Do you want company?"
"Where I'm going, I don't anticipate having much time left." He turns back toward you. "I have a promise to keep and then—" he pauses, knowing what he has to do, knowing his freedom was only ever a short-term gift, one he would exchange when his work was complete. He continues, "—I have an agreement to honor." 
You look away, trying to school the disappointment on your face until you realize he hadn't entirely said no. You feel a slight rise of hope as you study his features. You sense the heaviness in his heart in his sunken gaze, despite the mischievous smirk toying on his lips. "I could use some air, even if it isn't that long." 
He inhales, considering your offer. Neither of you fully understand the curious feeling growing inside; yet, both of you are reluctant to ignore it and part so soon. He nods thoughtfully. "I've called for the car. It will take us where I need to go."
Your eyes grow inquisitively at his words. You had assumed the place was nearby. But more so, the ease in which he mentions such a luxury takes you by surprise. Not many from your neighborhood could afford such a thing. 
You grab your coat and follow him out into the streets. You pause as you near the black car, questioning for the first time if this is a wise decision. Your thoughts are pulled back as he opens the side door, motioning you inside. 
Your face warms at the gesture. It wasn't often you encountered manners such as his. He was different, and that intrigued you.
He closes the door carefully behind you before walking around and joining you on the other side.
"The memorial, if you please." These are the only words spoken for the duration of the trip. 
You watch your city fade away to the countryside that eventually gave way into a bareness. Despite the years since the battle, the land had yet to recover fully. Some new growth highlighted the landscape, but much was still bleak and lifeless. 
Every now and then, you stole a glance at the man beside you, deep in contemplation. Occasionally, he would record his thoughts in a small notebook that he kept guarded.
As the car arrives at the memorial, you wait, watching for him to take the lead, not really knowing what to expect. 
His hand pauses as he reaches for the door handle. You watch his deliberate movements, almost forcing himself forward. 
The grief drawn on his face pulls your own features down in reply. You wonder for the first time whom he had lost.
He nods to himself as if willing his body to continue and leave the car.
You linger with the intent of giving him a moment. However, to your surprise, he opens your door for you and gestures you out. 
You take in the expansive memorial to the fallen country. A lake to the right had formed as the land resettled. A monument at the center with a serene trickling fountain welcomed you quietly.
But what caught your attention most was the wall of names. The Avengers had saved a lot of people that day, but the list of the dead was longer than you expected. Your stomach drops at the realization as your gaze scans the seemingly endless wall. The news covered the victory and the destruction, but it did little to prepare you for this truth. The cost of human lives should have outweighed any other press, but it didn't. 
You whisper a silent prayer to honor the dead, knowing so many of them may no longer have anyone to remember them. 
He stands beside you, his gaze distant.
"It's beautiful." The words slip from your lips in reverence. The memorial was simple yet powerful. You couldn't help but feel the weight of the loss standing before the massive wall in the distance, but the fountain and the lake helped ground you. "I wonder who designed it."
"I did," he replies, his voice marred with pain. "I may be a man without a country now; but, it is still my duty to care for the ashes of my beloved land and all those who were lost... and those I failed to protect." 
The more he talked, the less you realized you knew about him. He spoke of Sokovia with deep admiration as though he were once a significant member of its ruling body. You wonder how a man who seemingly had so much ended up hiding in the shadows of your city. The sorrow in his expression answered your question. Loss. Loss cuts more deeply than any physical wound ever could.
"It's beautiful," you repeat quietly. You know that no matter what you offer, it will never be enough to satiate his loss.
He doesn't acknowledge your reply; instead, he continues forward, heading toward the end of the list of names.  
You stay near the fountain, giving him space and privacy to mourn. You try to turn away, but you can't help but continue glancing in his direction. You want more than anything to understand him. 
You watch his body grow rigid, the color draining from his face. He leans against the wall for support, his fingers tracing a line of names. He reaches in his pocket and retrieves the small bear. His hands shake as he looks between the toy and the wall. 
You press your fingers to your lips, wondering what memories the token holds for him. You could practically see this man's heart breaking in front of you. 
His knees buckle under the weight of his grief until he crumbles to the ground, clutching the bear tightly in his hands. Despite being hidden by his jacket, you see his body rock as he weeps silently, his suffering too great to bear.
This man who confidently came to your rescue, who despite his mysterious nature had offered an air of self-assuredness in all that he did, was now broken in a way you realize only the loss of a young child could cause.
You move silently behind him, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The two of you might be strangers still but, you knew he needed to know he wasn't alone. 
"I'm sorry," he cries quietly, though you know the words are not meant for you. "I failed you. I should have been there. It should have been me."
He had spent years grieving in silence, throwing himself in his mission to avenge their deaths and later in prison, reading philosophies to justify the actions he had taken. He had never given into the sorrow, not in a meaningful way. It was easier to stay angry and to hate those responsible than to let the weight of his grief suffocate him as it did now. But, he had made them a promise that they would never be forgotten—that no one loss that day would be forgotten. He promised to remember them and then to visit once the memorial was complete. And now, he could keep that promise, even if it meant little compared to the one promise in his life that he had failed to keep—to protect them above all else.
You remain silently at his side, letting him grieve. He didn't recoil under your touch, so you kept your hand on his shoulder, knowing it would do little to quell the sadness of the loss of a child—the ultimate tragedy. 
As his grief quiets and his body relaxes, you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze and retreat, offering him time alone with the family he had lost.
He kisses the crown of the bear's head and rests it against the wall. He remains a while longer in silent vigil. You keep watch from the fountain, admiring how the sun sparkled on the lake, offering a promise of hope for the future amongst the wreckage. 
When he returns to you, his mouth opens in gratitude, but his words fail. He nods simply, and you understand all of the unspoken meaning it held.
"What will you do now?" You question softly. 
"Wait," he replies, sitting stoically beside you.
"How long?" You had already been away almost a day and were curious where this was leading.
"As long as it takes?"
"For what?"
"I made an agreement. As easy as it would be to go on my way and accept this freedom, I must honor the vow I made. What would a man be without his word?"
You don't understand what he means, but you sensed his peace in his decision. "Okay."
His gaze meets yours. "The car will take you anywhere you wish to go."
"What about you?"
"I trust other means of transportation will have been arranged."
You take this as your cue to leave, so you stand, despite your reservations. "Thank you... for your help last night."
"It was my privilege to do the right thing."
"Will I see you again?" The question slips from your lips before you can stop it.
The corner of his mouth twitches up momentarily. He reaches in his pocket, retrieving the black notebook he was writing in earlier. "That is entirely up to you."
You shake your head in confusion as he hands the book to you.
"This is who I was and who I am." His head tilts to the side, reflecting on the time you'd spent together. "It also holds what events I trust will transpire in the coming days and where to find me should you wish to after you've learned the truth."
"I don't understand."
"I know. You will if you read this." He offers a halfhearted smile. "If we don't meet again, I understand, but if we do,  I'll know—" he goes quiet, choosing his words carefully. "I'll know there is more work to be done. That you have seen what I could be, and I'd like that chance."
You stare blankly, wanting to understand but sensing you can't.
"Thank you," he paused, his voice rising, searching for something more.
"Y/N," you whisper. You had both decided the previous night it was best to keep your identities concealed.
"Y/N," he repeats, reaching for your hand. He brushes a kiss on your knuckles. "It's been a pleasure."
Your eyes mist over, even though you're not sure why. You wait, hoping he might return the sentiment with his name, but his lips press together, and his only reply is to gesture toward the book he handed you. 
"Go," he encourages.
You feel yourself walking away even though that's the last thing you want to do. You hold the book—his book—a little closer, not daring to look back. Despite the slight promise in his words that this wasn't the end, you couldn't help but feel like this was an unspoken goodbye. 
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A/N2: I started writing after episode 4 when Zemo first mentions the memorial. The original ending wasn’t angsty/uncertain, but I wanted to make it work with canon so I wanted him to decide to stay alone so he could return to prison, keeping the agreement he made to Sam and Bucky in the beginning. There may be a third part in their story... just saying 😉 
Marvel Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite​​​​; @fandomxreaders ;  @moonstuffsteve​​
Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail​​​​ ; @killsandthrills​​​ ; @noavengers​​​​ ; ​@nalabarnes1031 ; @trelaney​​ ; @willowtheewisp​ ; @marchingicenotes7 
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harrywritingsbyme · 3 years
Text
Just The Way You Are
Based Off Of This Ask
And This One
A/N: Anon…tysm for helping me out of my brain fart and suggesting/requesting this concept. I may or may not have cried (more like bawled) while writing this one. I love it sm and I feel like it’s perfect bc it’s so  relatable for so many, so I hope you like it bby🥺!! and I just realized that this is my last full post of 2020 which is absolutely insane…enjoy🙃
What you saw in the mirror was always a struggle for you. You were heavy in the chest, your hips were wide, you had chub in places where you didn’t want chub, and you had an endless supply of thighs. For the longest time you’d been in the never ending battle with your weight and with your figure. For years, you struggled to lose weight and slim down, trying your hardest to fit into the mold and standard of beauty that was placed before you. You tried so many of the fad diets you’d found on the internet and countless workout routines that were supposedly going to give you that instant gratification and the appearance you were chasing after.
 But at the end of it all, you got nothing. In fact, you came out with less than what you came in with. The only thing that came out of those efforts was even more disappointment in yourself. And the disappointment and dissatisfaction that came from those efforts was just a portion of the mountain of disdain and sadness that was already growing inside of you towards yourself. There were so many times where you just wanted to give up on it all. You felt like you’d never be seen as beautiful by yourself or by anyone else. You felt like there was absolutely no hope and that you weren’t going to be able to be loved by anyone because of your outward appearance. You felt stuck. 
And you felt stuck for a while. You went back and forth between fighting to get out of this state and just letting it be that way for who knows how long. You went on and on in this cycle until you became tired of being that way. It became exhausting. You’d reached your lowest point, you were drained. You realized that you couldn’t stay like this forever, nor were you going to allow yourself to stay like this anymore. So you pulled yourself up and you came up with a way to get yourself up. Even though it probably wasn’t the best mindset to have, you came to the resolve that if you couldn’t change it and if you weren’t going to be accepted and loved by anyone on the basis of your looks, you might as well accept and love yourself the way you were. And believe it or not, that pessimistic yet strangely optimistic mindset actually got you to a much better place. Sure you still had your insecurities about the way you looked and sure your heart sunk a little bit when you looked in the mirror, but you were feeling better than before and that’s all you cared about. You weren’t completely over the hill in regards to the negative feelings towards yourself but you definitely made progress and that’s all that mattered to you. You were finally feeling better. 
And you only got better. After making it to the point of feeling a bit better about yourself, you met Harry. He managed to shower you with all the love and affection you never thought you’d ever receive from someone. Even though you were strong in your convictions when it came to finding any type of approval in a man, you couldn’t resist Harry. He was an absolute dream. Along with loving you and your body, he was everything you could’ve wanted in a partner. There was no other way to describe it, he was just amazing and you didn’t want to let him go, nor were you planning to. You didn’t even entertain the thought. You held onto him and you enjoyed the pure bliss that came from being together. The both of you were completely head over heels for each other. And as you and Harry’s relationship grew, you blossomed. You became confident in yourself and you were able to stop putting yourself down. You’d reached the better place you were desperately searching for all this time. You were happy. This time, it wasn’t a facade that you were putting up to disguise your true and beyond negative feelings. You were truly happy. 
But with all good things of course, they either come to an end or come at a price. And being with Harry came at a price. You and Harry tried your best to keep your relationship away from the prying eyes that were constantly surrounding him. But you could only do but so much with that. It wasn’t that long before everyone found out who you were and made things a bit harder for you. After a little over nine months into your relationship with Harry, you began noticing an all around influx in your social media’s along with the press in general. Your picture was everywhere and there were so many people who were taking and interest in you and talking about you. You knew it came with the territory of dating someone who had an enormous amount of fame the way Harry did, but it was still very foreign and it was something that you weren’t prepared for. There were so many comments that made you happy and feel better about the situation. They were so happy to see you dating Harry, especially since you were very different from the women he’s dated and has been associated with in the past. Seeing those things always melted your heart and made you feel so good inside. 
But for some reason, the bad always crept in and overshadowed the good that was being brought your way. Along with an influx in positives, there was an influx in the negatives with the main target being your appearance. You tried to block it out and not focus on the negative, but those feelings that Harry was able to break through in the beginning came creeping back. Harry tried to console you in any way possible given the fact that you had talked to him a little bit about your past struggles. He took the time to remind you that you were desirable and that you were beautiful and that he loved you. Now while you were still down about what was being said about you, Harry’s words definitely provided comfort to you and made the situation tolerable. They didn’t miraculously change your thinking on the matter, but Harry’s words were able to stop you from going into the dark place you were in before which was what you needed at the time. Since everything was coming down onto you all at once, that was exactly what you needed. And eventually, with Harry’s help, you were able to make it through that incredibly intense time. 
Not too long after the news broke about your relationship, you and Harry celebrated your one year anniversary together, the both of you were beyond ecstatic about the milestone and your lives together going forward. The both of you were so happy to be together and so happy to have made it through the hell that was the past three months following the revealing of guys’ relationship. As you two continued on together, the negativity still came your way though. You tried your best to block it all out and keep moving forward to the best of your abilities but you weren’t able to let it all roll off you back. Some of it stayed with you, prompting you to just spring into action. Because you had so many people talking about you and your appearance, picking you apart at every turn, you were became determined to make them shut up. And the only way you knew how to do that was by going to work out with Harry. You figured that if you were able to do what he was doing, you’d be able to transform and as a result get them all to shut up and leave you alone. 
So you gave Harry the lame excuse of wanting to accomplish the health goal you had set for yourself which marked the beginning of your anxiety and stress filled workout journey. Harry bought right into that positive notion too, completely ready and willing to help you accomplish your goal and completely oblivious to your true motives towards wanting to start working out with him. From that point on, the two of you got up early at the same time five days a week to work out. It was incredibly hard for you to do but you were beyond motivated to shut everyone up and go back to having that peace you once had within yourself. 
You just wanted it all to stop. 
Now while you were extremely determined to workout, Harry began noticing some things that prompted red flags to go up in his head. The main and number one thing that got his attention was your excessiveness in regards to working out. After helping you get accustomed to working out the way he did and on the schedule he did it, you ran with it and never stopped. You began working out all the time, making your schedule seven days a week and sometimes twice a day. You were pushing yourself so hard and he was worried about you. He knew that you struggled with your confidence and body image so he didn’t want to discourage you. But he didn’t want you to hurt yourself either, nor did he want you to feel like you had to work out and change yourself for him or anyone for that matter. He knew that something had to be done and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. 
He decided to step in and do it all this morning. Normally it’d be an off day but since you were on seven days a week, you were getting up early to head downstairs to the gym. As you were moving to sit up, Harry tightened his grip around you, keeping your body down on the bed and against him. 
“Harry, you have to let me go.” You whisper back to him, trying to wiggle your way out of his grip. 
“No I don’t, you deserve a rest day anyways.” He mumbles back to you through a yawn, beginning to fully wake up as well. 
“I need to do this babe, I don’t be long.” You try and reason with him, still trying to release his grip from around you. 
“Okay fine, but can we please talk before you go down?” He bargains, even though he had no intention of letting you go down there. 
“Sure.” You agree, stopping your attempts to free yourself from his grip.
“Thanks baby.” He hums before unwrapping his arm from around you and sitting up in the bed to almost hover over your body. “So what’s going on?” He asks calmly yet  bluntly. 
“What do you mean?” You reply back to him with a puzzled look spread across your face to match your response. 
“You’ve been working out so much recently and it’s becoming a bit concerning sweets. I want you to reach your goal, I really do! I just want you to be healthy about it.” He softly points out to you, bringing his hand down to your cheek. 
“I’m fine Harry. I really want to reach this goal so I’m doing everything I possibly can.” You attempt to justify your actions over the past weeks, trying to steady your breathing a bit as well as you adjust to the touchy subject at hand. 
“Well I understand that and I’m so proud of you for going at this with that determination, I really am. It’s just that I don’t want you to be doing this because of all the things going around online.” He explains, his voice filled with  worry and concern. “I know it’s hard, but if you’re doing this, you should be doing this for you baby. That’s it.” He adds. 
When he says this, your heart sinks. You weren’t doing this for you. And you didn’t want him to find out your actual reasons for working out seven days a week and practically killing yourself because if he did, which he ultimately was, it was going to crush him. And the last thing you wanted was for him to worry about you. You could see all the worry and concern painted all over his face and you hated it. You hated it so much that you began to cry, not being able to hold back the tears that were already bubbling up in your eyes. 
“Oh my-baby please talk to me!” He begs, wiping the tears that were falling from your eyes. 
“It’s just so hard Harry. I’ve never had this many people coming at me about the way I looked. The only people I had to worry about before with this were myself and anyone I came in contact with. But now it’s everyone and it’s too much. I just want them all to shut up and leave me alone.” You rush out through your tears, completely breaking down below him. 
“I’m so sorry baby.”
“The only reason why I’m working out so much and trying so hard to get through it all is because I love you so so much. I can’t go back to that dark place anymore, I just wanna stay out here in the light and happiness with you. It’s just so hard when you have so many people coming at you all at once and it makes you want to just give in so that you can have peace.” You sob. When Harry hears this, his heart breaks into a million pieces. He was assuming full responsibility for this. He felt like if it wasn’t for him entering your life, you wouldn’t be completely broken before him right now.
“I’m so sorry that you’re going through all of this baby. It’s all my fault and I feel horrible for even putting you in this position.” Harry sighs, feeling tears beginning to form in his eyes as well. 
“But it’s not-“ 
“It is my fault.” He quickly interjects. “You’re going through this torture because of me and I’m so so sorry. I love you so much baby and I wish that I could just end all of this for you.” He whimpers, feeling the hot tears streaming down his face. 
“I love you too Harry. And it’s not your fault.” You reiterate, making it clear that you didn’t blame him for any of this. 
“I just need you to remember that I love you so much. I love all of you so much.” He says firmly to you, locking his eyes with yours to really reach you. He couldn’t stress how beautiful you were in his eyes enough. You were absolutely amazing to him and he just wanted to touch and admire you all the time if he could. He wanted to constantly shower you with all the love and affection you deserved. He wanted the girl he loved to know that she was absolutely stunning and that he couldn’t get enough of her. He needed you to know that. It was so important to him that you know how beautiful you were.
And he planned on making sure you knew just how beautiful you were. He quickly wipes his face before pulling your legs apart and moving in between them.
“Harry what are you doing?” You ask at his sudden movements. 
“Shh, just let me love on you baby.” He coos down to you before bringing his lips to yours. The kiss is soft but filled with passion. You could feel it radiating off of Harry and down onto you. As he continues to kiss your lips, you feel his hands glide down your body, tugging up at hem of the shirt you slept in. Keeping his lips on yours, he pulls it up your body detaching his mouth when he pulls the shirt off of your body, leaving you in just your panties below him. “You are so beautiful.” He admires, taking in your pretty much naked body. Everywhere he looked he found something that he loved. There was no part of you that he hated. In fact, anything you hated, he loved.
Without wasting anymore time, Harry jumps right into his praising session so to speak. He starts at your lips, leaving you one final kiss before leaving a trail of kisses down the lower portion of your face and neck, going all the way down and stopping at your chest. He brings his hands up to your ample breasts and he cups both of them in his hands. He then lifts his head up a bit to lock eyes with you.
“I love these so much. They’re so pretty and they fit perfectly in my hands.” He whispers, bringing his mouth to one of your breasts and capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. He then begins to suck on you, using his hands to squeeze wherever he couldn’t have his mouth. As he did this, your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth hung open, allowing little moans to escape as you enjoyed the physical and emotional pleasure you were receiving from Harry. Even though it was just the beginning, you knew what he was doing because he’d done it many times before. And every time he did it, you had the same reaction. You were in a completely blissful state and you felt loved every single time. Those feelings were only intensified since you and Harry talked and you really expressed what you were going through. And now that you let all of that out, you felt lighter and you were so ready to feel good again. Harry then removes his mouth from your breast and latches onto the other, doing the exact same thing as before. Squeezing your flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingers as he sucked on the other. He continues on like this a little longer before moving down your body.
“I love this tummy of yours.” He hums delightedly, leaving kisses all over the area, making sure to leave kisses along your sides as well, nipping at your chub every once in a while too. “Can’t wait to put out baby in here.” Harry hums, enjoying the idea of having a baby with you. 
“Oh my goodness Harry!” You chuckle through your labored breaths. 
“You’d look so pretty, maybe even prettier than you already are if that’s even possible.” He praises, smoothing his hand across your empty stomach. Harry then moves on to the next part of your body. 
“I love these hips.” He groans biting into and kissing the flesh of your hips. “Love grabbin’ them when I fuck you. So good.” He sighs, thinking back on the times he’s pushed into you. He then moves even lower. He begins to leave kisses along the side bands of your panties, bringing his mouth closer and closer to where your need was mounting. But instead of going there, he keeps going down and stops at your thighs. 
“I don’t know if I told you this, but I’m in love with your thighs. Like they’re absolutely delicious and amazing.” He rambles up to your before biting into one of them, squeezing the other as he did this. Harry loved how fleshy your thighs were. He couldn’t get enough of how they quaked and jiggled when he fucked into you. They were so soft and plushy, how could Harry possibly resist them?! Once he’s done loving on your thighs, Harry lifts himself up so that he’s kneeling between your legs before quickly pulling you onto your side to give your ass a couple swats, causing you to yelp out to him from how it stung. “I didn’t forget about your ass either baby, I love pulling it apart and having my face buried in it.” He says before pushing you back into your original position below him. 
“And now to the last stop.” He announces, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties before tugging them down, lifting your legs up to fully pull them off. He tosses them to the side and spreads your legs for him, revealing your soft and puffy center. “I love your pussy. It’s magical if m’being completely honest. It’s all puffy and  warm and sticky. It’s just the best. Feels amazing around my cock and it tastes amazing on my tongue.” He heavily praises before going in. He could see that you were already dripping so he knew that it wouldn’t take long at all to make you let go in his mouth.
With his mouth on you, Harry licks a wide stripe up your folds, pushing his tongue into you. When he does this, your hands go straight to his hair and your thighs begin to close a little around his head, prompting Harry to moan a little and rut his now hard cock against the bed. Even though this was all about you, Harry couldn’t stop himself from getting hard. In fact, he got hard because it was about you. Anything you did had the power to turn him on. He was constantly getting hard because of you. In fact, as he licked into you, Harry was rutting his hips down into the bed to relieve some of the pressure in his cock. All Harry wanted was to be wrapped up in you all the time. Just like now, Harry was eating you like his life depended on it as your thighs were wrapped around his head. While you were in heaven, Harry was in heaven as well. As he continued on, your were absolutely losing it too. His mouth felt absolutely amazing on you. You were already buzzing from the way he practically worshiped your body so now that he was full on eating you, you were incredibly close to letting go. 
“Feels so good!” You moan out to him, feeling a warmth spreading throughout your body. “Think m’gonna cum.” You pant, tightening your grip on him. To push you right over the edge, Harry moves his tongue up from your entrance and just sucks on your buzzing clit. This does the trick perfectly. As you let go, Harry could feel himself getting closer to his own release so he continues to push himself back and forth against the bed. 
Once you’re all done and your body goes limp, Harry leaves a kiss to your clit along with a kiss to each of your thighs, both of your hips, your stomach, and both of your breasts before stopping at your face.
“I love you.” You hum lazily, still recovering from your release. 
“I love you too baby.” Harry hums with a little chuckle, enjoying how tired out you are. “I love you just the way you are. I know it’s hard for you and I’m incredibly sorry for that. But we’ll get through it, right lovie?” 
“Mhm!” You mumble happily. 
“That’s right, and no more excessive workouts. If you wanna do some extra workouts, let me know so that we can have sex instead.” He proposes happily. 
“Can we “work out” some more then?” You breathe out.
“I’d love that. 
Masterlist
412 notes · View notes
hanibalistic · 3 years
Text
#3D341A | LEE JENO.
genre | fluff and angst, demon au
word count | 2117
warning | mention of insecurities, suggestive themes
note | lapslock on a 2k blurb? yes.
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the first time you shed your glamor in front of jeno, it had been an accident.
you were always so careful with the way you looked, courtesy to the unsolicited criticism of others and the unwanted woes that came with them, and you were always so meticulous in your preparations to maintain the glamorized form of yourself.
with bottles and bottles of sparkly potions hidden behind the secret wall which entrance was blocked by a wooden shelf of grimoires and magic guide books, all made with great strength and patience, drinking a full bottle in the morning each day would help you maintain the idealized appearance you wanted others to see—bigger eyes, fuller lips, thinner bones, smaller nose, smoother skin, and silkier hair.
you have never missed a day with the potions, and you have never made any wrong calculations in regards to the making process of the potion; everything was taken into account, including the time needed for the herb gathering, the magic channeling, and the brewing of the potion itself. you would never run out of them, and you would never forget to take them.
you have always kept your glamor up without fault. but, unfortunately, jeno has learned no manners at all in all his years of being the insolent, bashful, infuriating demon that he was. barging into your room after you had sent him away and was not expecting his surprise return became your demise, as you had already shed your glamor for the day and were preparing to begin your night routine.
he saw you naked that night. standing by your desk, your perfect skin melting off and your face shifting off its mask, your glamor shed before him, and he saw you naked that night.
he saw you ugly.
you refused to meet him days after the accident, even though it was written in the contract of your pact that you two were to meet each other at least once every week until your deed to research hell magic, as well as your quest to retrieve your best friend's soul from that place was done.
jeno understood your decision. truth be told, he was in shock himself as well. who would have thought that the person he has made a pact with, the person he has been running stupid errands for in hell, the person he has been all over to consume and take the energy from, didn't look the way he always knew they did?
he has been too unassuming of you despite knowing your ability as a powerful sorcerer. little of those would risk their peaceful life meddling with creatures with him, taking one step further to study hell magic instead of being satisfied with earthly and heavenly magic. you had your reason, of course; that missing best friend of yours had you stepping through the shadowy gates with no regard for your own life. 
yet, still, jeno was unassuming of you, and he could hardly blame himself for it, really. 
the binding contract you two shared stated that in return for the resources you asked for, you would give jeno the soul energy needed not to maintain his form, but only to strengthen the power he already has. it was a simple transaction with non-simple repercussions; he gives you deadly herbs, ripped pages of spell books, information from great but dead magicians, and a great big headache for having to deal with his cockiness. you give him parts of your soul through energy transfer, which works through skin-on-skin contact.
normally, demons take soul energy through the act of a mere touch, something like a hand to the back of the shoulder, or a firm handshake if they managed to seal a mutual deal. the process is quick and straightforward, or at least it should be. jeno, however, liked to stall. more importantly, he liked you flustered and raspy in his hands.
there was never anything straightforward with him. there was only tension—tight, hot, budding tension. to jeno, the correct way and the only way to take your soul energy was through the act of roaming and touchy hands. there was only pinning you against your bed or setting you down on his lap, slipping his hands up your shirt or pulling its collar past one shoulder, sliding the tip of his nose down your jaw or leaving gentle marks on your neck.
the only way to take your energy was to leave you weak and putty in his hands, and it has never been easier for him to make your sexual innocence shine through by just pulling you closer to meet his abdomen. 
now, imagine his disappointment when he found out that the person he has been beaming up to, the person he has touched almost thoroughly, the person he has broken out of his comfort zone and shown any form of kindness for turns out to be more than meets the eye? that he has been putting his hands and lips and heart all over a superficial fantasy?
immediately after he had overcome the disbelief and confusion, he found himself struck with annoyance and, somewhat, rage at the pure idea that you wore a glamor with you whenever you met with him. that was, however, in no way an indication that jeno disliked your real form. 
he realized a little after you began seeing him again with the same glamorized form of yourself, and each time he felt a sudden surge of displeasure whenever he had to look at, talk to, and touch that dolled up face of yours, so much that he would rather miss his weekly dose of soul energy than take them from a willing you, that appearances has nothing to do with his raging emotions.
jeno just did not like that you felt the need to lie to him, and that you lied to him at all.
has he taught you shame? has he taught you to be shameful before him?
“take off your glamor.”
“and if i don’t?”
jeno looked to you in silence. you were being dismissive by tinkering with the herbs he just brought you from hell, placing them in jars and organizing them slowly so you could stall time. your glamor was back up, if not stronger than usual as he could sense it, and it was becoming an eyesore for him now that he has caught a glimpse of your true form.
he has been trying to get you to reveal yourself to him. admittedly, his determination and desperation to do so were mainly for his own good—he simply could not handle you, of all people, deceiving him, especially when the deception was nothing but a self-inflicted tragedy of being ashamed of one’s own appearance. to get you to shed your glamor was a favor to both himself and you; him so he could see you fully, and you to face yourself.
he has had no success in doing so, though. even though there were moments when he thought your eyes wavered at the sound of his irritation or the sight of him leaving without letting you fill your end of the bargain, ultimately, you never let up. you kept your glamor up, you kept the beautified features of yours up as long as you could.
“nothing happens,” jeno replied lowly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. he sent you a pointed glare, his gaze hallow and unseeing when he looked at you, making a point that he wanted nothing to do with your glamorized form. “i’m going to leave now. i’ll see you when i’ve gathered everything you need again.”
you almost slammed the jar against the table when he turned around. his painstaking attitude was understandable but intolerable. 
did he think you liked the glamor? did he think you wanted to reform yourself entirely just for people to like you? did he think you liked spending the effort on those potions? who else were you doing this for if not for people like him who pushes their beauty standards unsolicitedly onto people who just wanted to live to their heart’s content? why else would you be doing this if people didn’t teach you to be embarrassed for yourself?
nobody likes to be lied to, that bit you understood. but nobody ever talked about the superficial world created in which lies and cover-ups strengthen your stance. why wouldn’t you do it if it gives you an advantage? why wouldn’t you do it if it gets people off your back?
“you’re just going to ignore me because i don’t want to shed myself for you to see? that’s really mature of you, jeno,” you retorted, the anger in your voice a croaked mess as you battled the urge to cry.
“don’t blame this on me, [name],” he shrugged, “you do want to take off the glamor, you just don’t dare to.”
“and why the hell is that?” you asked with accusations in your tone.
“i don’t know!” he exclaimed with a breathy hiss, taking a sudden step toward you as his eyes flared a shade of demon red that made you stumble back against your table. 
when jeno calmed, the redness in his eyes faded with his anger, and everything in his bones was slowly replaced with softness and regret for having scared you. or perhaps you were upset that he had been mean and insensitive to your insecurities, which would explain the brimming tears behind your eyes. 
he had not meant to. it was in his hellish nature to snap, to be carried away with doing whatever serves him the best. if what he wanted was for you to give him the truth, he’d do whatever means to get it. bullying, snapping, threatening, neglecting—it would be hard to control himself in the heat of something he was passionate about. 
come to think of it, that part of him deserved a glamor much more than your looks that you disliked so much. at least his demonic nature served as a real threat to people he loved.
tentatively stepping toward you, he caged you to your desk with one hand clutching the edge of the table and the other reached up to the side of your face. he peered down at you with a chilling and shadowy gaze, one that held swirls of intimate longing, and he asked quietly, “have i taught you shame, my love? have i taught you to hate yourself, my love?”
you sniffed back a sob. 
the answer was no. jeno has never taught you any of those things. you were the one who taught yourself those things.
with the shivering of your body against his warm one, the glamor on yourself also began to shake itself off. it came off like melting ice, like lava, like the slope of a quicksand pit; your glamor shed and shed to reveal yourself to him. 
patches of rough skin you gained from practicing violent magic, dark scars that dotted your face from what should have been healed through your teenage years, a button nose flat and protruding as a gift from your lovely father, thin eyes that came from your kind mother, hair that no longer reflects the sun like a mirror, added weight to your torso and thighs—unflattering things. 
the fact that you unraveled yourself under jeno’s hand seemed to make you feel even more self-conscious, so much that you began sobbing.
“i’m sorry,” you told him. “why do you want me ugly, jeno?”
when he touched you this time, finally after so long, he didn’t do it to take your energy. he touched you for the sake of touching you, he touched you for the sake of having skin-to-skin contact with you, he touched you for the sake of keeping you both alive. it was what you both needed—affection through skin contact, an indication of unconditional love from another, the willingness to submit.
he kissed you carefully. his lips sliding from one place to another around your face, and his hands roamed your body to find spots he would grip and hold. you stood there trembling beneath his touch, turning weak and putty in his hands as you always did. the shivers in your breaths pounded against his chest that pressed tightly up against your own. they only began to slowly disappear the more jeno calmed you by latching his lips to yours, kissing you slowly and warmly, seemingly taking your doubts right out of your head.
“i don’t want you ugly, my love,” he mumbled between kisses.
jeno didn’t want you ugly. he wanted you real, you wanted you scarred and bruised, he wanted you open and vulnerable.
he wanted you his.
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missbrunettebarbie · 2 years
Text
Sorting Georgiana Pearson and Chase
With bonus Anna and Duncan West.
Aside from @starry-sky-stuff I am probably the only SHC person that knows who I am talking about, but I couldn’t not write this post because everything about Chase and Georgiana is fascinating to me. 
Georgiana is the protagonist of the romance novel “Never judge a lady by her cover” by Sarah Maclean, the fourth and final book of the “Rules of scoundrels” series. But her story starts in the “Love by numbers” series and she has brief cameo in a book from a third series, “A scot in the dark”. 
Chase is the mysterious owner of the Fallen Angel, the gambling hell where most of the action from the “Rules of scoundrels” series takes place. His identity is probably the biggest mystery in the series, so please stop reading now if you do not want spoilers.
For anyone interested to find out more about the SHC system used here, check out @wisteria-lodge and @sortinghatchats
We are first introduced to Georgiana in “Ten ways to be adored when landing a lord” where she is a scared, pregnant sixteen years old who preferred to run away from home than disappoint her brother. A flashback in her own book shows us how she ended up in this predicament. she was the only daughter of a dead duke, sister to another. Both her mother and brother cared about the pristine reputation of the family, neglecting Georgiana, who only wanted to love and be loved. She was terrified of the life that was prepared for her, where she was supposed to marry someone that would not care for her and become as cold and detached as her mother. So when she thought she was in love with one of the stabbleboys, she did not hesitate to turn away from a life of privilege to marry him. She is a Snake primary who is desperate for some sort of meaningful connection that no one seems able to provide.
And when he left her, Georgiana was heartbroken. However when we see her in “Eleven scandals to start to win a duke’s heart”, Georgiana is no longer focused on anything but her newborn daughter, Caroline. She is Her Person and Georgiana would make sure she gets the best life she can offer her. And while her brother may believe forcing Caroline’s father to marry her would give both of them respectability, the girl who knows how it is to grow up without love, knows that repuation and legitimacy are hollow and won’t make either her or her daughter happy. 
It’s interesting to note that in the same book, Juliana describes Georgiana’s eyes as being cold when she talks about the lover who abandoned her and she fully belives when she says that “Sometimes, love is not enough”. This is textbook burned Snake primary, but when we meet her years later in “Rules of scoundrels” she looks more like an exploded Snake.  That’s because I think she Burned when the man she thought loved her left her and then Exploded when society refused to accept her daughter. 
In NJALBHC, Georgiana tells Duncan that when she came back to London and saw how the people judged her and Caroline, despite the fact that they are no better than her, she wanted to crush them for their hypocrisy. And so starts Georgiana’s vendetta against the world at large, an impossible battle that is still masterfully fought by her secondary.
Because Georgiana is a Bird secondary. She plans, she gathers information, she uses people as tools and when needed, turns herself into a tool. To prove to her fellow noblemen that they are no better than them she starts the most exclusive gaming club in London, where the price of the entrance is your best kept secrets. Knowing she can’t use her own identity, Georgiana creates Chase, a gentleman so powerful his identity can never be uncovered. And since Chase can never show his face, Georgiana collects partners that can. She saves Bourne, Cross and Temple’s life, men who have titles but are pariahs just like her, to help her take her revenge on society. While it does seem that they build a friendship, “No good duke goes unpunished” makes it clear that Georgiana sees them as pawns first, friends later. Hence why she never told Temple the truth about Mara Lowe, as she did not want him to leave her and reclaim his old life.
Georgiana also has a Snake secondary model that helps her switch between her three personalities: Georgiana -the disgraced lady, Chase -the powerful casino owner and Anna -the sex worker who is Chase’s mistress and messenger.
Georgiana is a good example of an unhealthy Snake, who only starts to heal in her own book, after ten long years. The reason? She realized her distance and focus on the Fallen Angel was hurting Caroline, the one person for whom Georgiana would truly do anything. She cannot stomach the idea that despite everything she had done Caroline only got a distant mother and a position on the fringes of society. She resumes to be more involved in her daughter’s life and marry a man that can offer them the social positions they never could get by themselves. Once again Georgiana approaches this task with the ruthless eficiency of a Bird, selecting the perfect candidate, preparing the carrot (a huge dowry) and the stick (Chase’ files of blackmail).
The problem is her primary, who has already started healing when she falls in love with Duncan West. When Duncan and Georgiana look at each other, they see the Double Snake they both pretend to be and it scares and attracs them both towards the other. But Duncan is a Snake Badger that in a lot of ways is similar with Georgiana. His Person is his sister Cynthia, who he loves the same way Georgiana loves Caroline and for whom he had built a media empire from nothing. Despite being a Badger secondary that gets what he wants by hard work, blackmail and swaying the public opinion to his side, he build a Snake secondary model that makes him seem carefree and allows people to trust him. 
Duncan dislikes Chase, whom he sees as a Double Snake that cares about nothing except his money and power and who he thinks is manipulating and using Geogiana. The entire book is about Duncan seeing past the apperances and figuring out the truth about Chase, while Georgiana’s arc is about learning how to let people into her Inner Circle again. By the end of the book, when Georgiana is forced to choose between love and power, she chooses the former. She is ready to give up Chase’s identity if it means saving Duncan. And once again she goes about it the Bird way: by planning to reveal to the world that Anna is Chase, while entrusting her true identity to the man that would ruin Duncan if she did not.
Luckily, Georgiana doesn’t have to give up her power in the end. But she does give up Anna, who is the fallen woman role that society had trust her into. And that’s because Georgiana no longer cares about her vendetta against others.  She is happy with Duncan and Caroline, her business partners and their wives. It takes her a bit of nudge from caroline, who explains that she does not need a mother that sacrifices herself for her, to finally go after what she truly wants, but she gets there. Other’s people’s perception of her are no longer  important, and while Georgiana keeps Chase, from what I have seen in “A scot in the dark”, both she and Duncan gave up their Snake models, allowing themselves to show people who they truly are.
TL;DR
Georgiana Pearson/Chase/Anna - Snake primary that is both burned and exploded, but heals by the end/Bird secondary, Snake secondary model she drops when she heals
Duncan West -Snake/Badger, Snake secondary model he drops
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starlight-loki · 3 years
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Headcanon of the day: Loki x Mystic!Reader
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This sort of acts as context for a fic I have coming out in the next day or two. I thought I'd release this first as a kind of shittily-written backstory for it, so that the relationship dynamics make sense :) Enjoy!
UPDATE: the fic is all done! you can read it here
(this is quite long and the Keep Reading option won't work, dammit. my apologies 😅)
You know something's wrong as soon as Stephen bursts into your room, a troubled look in his eyes
"They're here."
Stephen had been talking about this for a while -- it was just a matter of time before Thor and Loki arrived in New York looking for their father
He told you from the start that they were going to need help; your help
At first you protested because you were still in the midst of learning everything there was to know about the mystic arts.
you weren't a beginner by any means, but you definitely didn't feel you were at a level where you could just... fight the goddess of death
Now, you realized as Stephen rushed out of your room as quickly as he came, you were out of time to prepare: you had to use what you knew and hope it was enough
You stepped down the stairs into the main entrance of the Sanctum just as Stephen brought Loki back from the void with a thud
"Right, I'm sending Y/N with you. The two of you are going to need help with this whole... situation."
"We don't need help, especially not from a mortal, you second-rate-"
Stephen sends all three of you through a portal before Loki can even finish pulling out his knives
at first, you really can't stand either of them
Thor is... too much muscle, not enough brain
while Loki on the other hand is half part brain, half part whining weasel
You honestly feel like you got stuck babysitting the two of them, and there's a part of you that hopes this mission Stephen sent you on won't be so bad after all
Of course, everything sort of went to shit when you found yourself on Sakaar
You were the first to arrive, and were admittedly terrified when you came face to face with the Grandmaster
you had powers and were strong enough to defend yourself, sure, but this seemed like a whole other ball of wax entirely
You chucked a few illusions here, as well as a couple fancy tricks you learned from Stephen there, and soon enough you became the Grandmaster's... magic show.
It was disappointing really, to know that your powers were being used to amaze three headed ogres and other folks who looked like they walked straight out of the Capitol from The Hunger Games, but at least you weren't fighting in the arena
or worse... dead.
to your surprise, Loki showed up a week later -- escorted to your room by none other than the Grandmaster himself
"Y/N, I've got another wizard for you!"
(you swear you can see Loki's jaw clench at the Grandmaster's term, and it takes all you can not to laugh)
"He can do illusions too. Maybe you two can, y'know, think up a big show for us tonight."
Loki's surprised to see you (and also relieved to see a familiar face, finally), but he quickly disguises his relief as disgust before you can think anything more of it
"I'm not sharing my bed." You say tightly, and Loki shoots you a glare before settling down on the couch in the corner of the room
At first, the two of you barely talk to each other despite sharing a room
You really just throw some illusions together during your show, and then head back to the room to sulk in silence
It honestly starts to feel like you're living the same day over and over, that is until you wake up to the sound of screaming
You rush over to Loki, to find he was having a violent nightmare
When he finally wakes up, terror in his eyes and not fully registering his surroundings, you place a hand over his forehead gently
You remembered an incantation you read once while at the Sanctum, one that could calm even the most restless mind, and you mumbled the words to the best of your ability
To your relief, Loki's breathing slowed as the last of his nightmare faded away
"You okay?"
You don't know why, but you find yourself reaching to hold Loki's hand in both of your own
His fear, his memories... you could almost feel them physically reverberate in you
maybe your initial conceptions about Loki were wrong, after all. Maybe he wasn't nearly as bad as you thought
you go out of your way to try and be a little nicer to him, sneaking in drinks and other treats you managed to grab on your way out of the Grandmaster's parties for him to try
sometimes, the two of you would even stay up until the early hours of morning, sharing stories and laughing together and actually feeling happy
for a garbage planet, maybe things weren't quite so bad.
until the night you had a nightmare. you could've sworn it was real, the way everyone in your dream seemed to dissolve into ash right in front of your eyes
you didn't realize you were crying out in your sleep until Loki woke you up, the entire situation reminiscent of when you first caught him having a nightmare of his own
you see the worry in his eyes, and you can't stop yourself from crying as the events from your dream played through your mind
"It's alright. It's not real. You're safe, Y/N. You're safe."
Loki repeats those words quietly like a lullaby until your breathing calms, and you grab his wrist before he can retreat back over to the couch
"Please stay."
the two of you don't realize just how touchstarved you are until you're both lying together, holding each other as if the world were about to end
(i'm getting Pompeii-esque visuals, am i crying??? maybe)
as your relationship progresses into purgatory-type territory -- somewhere between friendship and romance -- you realize the connection between the two of you grows stronger
specifically, the telepathic connection
before you know it, you can hear Loki's thoughts, and he can hear yours
you suspect it has something to do with the incantation you used to heal him after his nightmare
(you never did read the warnings on that one. oops.)
after a while, the two of you managed to control your telepathic abilities, to the point where you didn't hear the other's each and every thought
there was only a soft buzzing noise in the background of your mind, as if Loki's energy was gently reminding you he was there
Loki found your thoughts incredibly irritating at first
especially how you never seemed to shut up when you were nervous
there was a certain comfort in knowing you were only a thought away, though. especially when the day finally comes when you have to battle Hela
there's a moment when you're convinced Loki had died -- when he ran back into the palace to summon Surtur -- and your breath stops all together in your throat
for a few seconds, you couldn't hear his thoughts anymore. the constant white noise in the back of your mind was gone
when it suddenly resumes out of nowhere as you flew away from the remains of Asgard with Thor and everyone else, you couldn't help but make a run for Loki
you found him in one of the sleeping quarters on the ship, and before you could think twice, you kissed him. hard.
"You idiot! You could've died!"
You can't stop the tears of relief and the smile that lights up your face as you take him in
"I didn't die, however. I'm still here."
All you can do is laugh, and to your utmost delight, Loki pulls you in for another kiss
except this time, you freeze.
"Do you have the Tesseract?"
the way Loki's hands tense around your waist tells you everything
"...why would you think that?"
"I'm a mystic, you idiot! I practically pick up on energy for a living!"
Realizing he really can't hide anything from you, Loki materializes the Tesseract and holds it out to you carefully
"What were you hoping to achieve with this?" You ask, your voice nothing more than a horrified whisper
the lost look in his eyes tells you everything: he wasn't really sure, himself.
you conjure a portal and send the Tesseract far, far away from the two of you, and you can almost see the relief visibly fill Loki's eyes as that temptation disappeared
You realized as you landed back on Earth that the two of you were finally safe. You were home, and you had Loki now, too.
Things were going to be okay.
Until of course, the day your visions started.
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flowercrown-bard · 3 years
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35 for Geraskier? :3
thank you so much for the prompt! And also, I would like to apologise. I had the most cursed thought about how to end this and I wasn't going to actually write that, but you know sometimes you have an idea so bad that you just know you would forever regret it if you didn't do it
prompt: Bets/teasing with increasing physical stakes makes character confront their feelings
word count: 5k
kind of inspired by the song "anything you can do I can do better"
content warning: brief mention of injury (no detailed description)
Anything you can do, I can do better
“You know you could help me, right?” Jaskier’s tongue peeked through his lips in concentration. “All you need is a little magic-“ he wiggled his fingers through the air uselessly, letting the sticks he had been holding before fall to the forest floor. “-and we would have a fire. Easy as that. So why, oh, why do you insist on torturing me thus?”
Geralt had to bite back his grin when Jaskier turned his big pleading eyes on him. “I thought you said you were ‘perfectly fit to travel through the wilderness’.”
Jaskier abandoned his fruitless attempt at making a fire for good and his puppy eyes turned into a glare. “I am! Just because you decided to be a prick about it, doesn’t mean I’m useless.”
“You almost stepped into the snare I had set up to hunt our dinner.”
Jaskier crossed his arms in front of his chest and lifted his chin in defiance. “Your point?”
“My point is that you wouldn’t survive a day without me out here.”
“Well, good thing I don’t want –“ Jaskier broke off and his eyes narrowed. “Wait. Are you…” he came closer to Geralt, who barely could keep his shoulders from shaking. “Are you laughing at me? Geralt, how dare you!”
A snorting laugh slipped past Geralt’s lips and he no longer fought back the grin. “I would never dare do such a thing.”
“Oh, no. That’s it.” Jaskier jabbed a finger at Geralt’s chest in outrage. “I am going to prove to you that I am just as good as you are at surviving out here. No, I am better.”
For a long moment Geralt only stared at him. “I am a witcher. I am enhanced and trained specifically to survive out in the wild. You are a bard.”
“And I am stubborn and pissed off. And I know that I can do anything better than you.”
Geralt threw a pointed look at the sad attempt at making a camp fire. Jaskier cringed and shrugged his shoulders. “Magic doesn’t count.”
“Alright then,” Geralt sighed, but his lips twitched up when Jaskier’s eyes lit up with determination. “How about you prove how good you are by setting up the tent?”
“Psh, that’s easy.” When Geralt sceptically lifted a brow, Jaskier added, “I am a travelling bard. Do have some trust in me.”
Geralt watched in amusement as Jaskier strode off to go about his task. At least for the time being the bard would be distracted. Geralt knew there wasn’t a chance that Jaskier would actually succeed in setting up the tent, but it was strangely endearing to watch him bite back frustrated curses as he got tangled up in the fabric. And maybe, just maybe Geralt was preparing his ‘I told you so’ for when Jaskier finally admitted defeat and asked Geralt for help.
Except, that didn’t happen. Against all expectations, Jaskier managed to build the tent and it didn’t even take him too long.
Geralt stared at him, taken aback. Clearly Jaskier noticed Geralt’s surprise, for the smug grin he wore only got wider and he put one hand on his hips, gesturing towards the tent with the other.
“There you have it. I dare you to tell me again that I’m not as good as you are.”
“You are not,” Geralt said, more to watch Jaskier splutter in indignation than anything else.
He wasn’t disappointed.
“I am able to prepare us dinner,” Geralt said, taking out his knife.
“Oh please, now you’re just being ridiculous.” Jaskier rolled his eyes with a huff. “We both know that before I came along, you only used salt and pepper to spice your food. If even that much.”
Geralt shrugged. “I never said it tasted good. I just said I was able to prepare it.”
Jaskier’s eyes crinkled as his grin became triumphant. “Aha! So you admit it. I am better at cooking than you.”
“If you think so, then I’m sure you’ll have no problem preparing these.” Geralt did his best to keep his expression carefully neutral as he held the rabbit he had caught out to Jaskier.
Jaskier blanched at the sight. A hint of guilt battled with the satisfaction of seeing Jaskier give up on his stubbornness and he was just about to take the rabbit back and skin it himself, when Jaskier took it away from him, though he held it in the same way a lordling might hold a wet frog.
--
Over the next days, Geralt started having more and more fun with this. No matter what he told Jaskier to do, he jumped at the opportunity to prove himself. At this point, Geralt wasn’t really sure anymore what exactly Jaskier was trying to prove.
It was obvious that Geralt’s increasingly ridiculous bets were nothing that would prove anything to Geralt other than that Jaskier was a stubborn idiot who would rather attempt to chop down a small tree than give up, though he had done that particular task while throwing glares at Geralt every other second. It had been fun to watch Jaskier grit his teeth and try to succeed in this utterly useless task.
It had become slightly less fun when Jaskier had become so exhausted that he had to shrug off his chemise, revealing his skin that glistened with sweat.
Seeing Jaskier like this – seeing the muscles in his shoulders and arms flex as he swung the axe – was strange. It felt wrong. At least that was the only explanation Geralt had for the strange twist in his guts as he watched his friend. And the only reason why his mouth went dry when he later massaged Jaskier’s sore back to get the tension he was responsible for, was because he felt guilty.
He should have stopped then.
He didn’t. Not when they were making camp and not now that Jaskier was walking beside Roach, humming the same melody for the umpteenth time.
Just to see Jaskier’s reaction, Geralt now said, “I bet you can’t stay silent for longer than I can.”
He threw a glance at Jaskier out of the corner of his eye. Jaskier had stopped walking and was opening his mouth to protest. Geralt lifted his brows and cocked his head to the side, the corners of his lips twitching.
Jaskier narrowed his eyes, but no sound left him. Instead, he mouthed something at Geralt that he was sure must be some sort of insult, before hurrying after Geralt.
It became clear quickly that this might just be the hardest task for Jaskier. Chopping wood and skinning rabbits was one thing. Evidently, Jaskier’s stubbornness gave him extra strength and the ability to swallow his disgust. But staying quiet? He looked as if he was ready to through the towel right then and there, and not even a full minute had passed.
Geralt was almost fully convinced that the only reason Jaskier remained silent was that every time his fidgeting got worse and he looked like he was about to open his mouth to say something, he caught Geralt’s eyes. Within a heartbeat that determination was back in his eyes and he snapped his mouth shut.
Geralt was almost impressed. He should have known that Jaskier would play dirty.
He started to poke Geralt’s legs, pull at his boots and open their straps.
Any glare of Geralt’s was only answered with a shit eating grin and a shrug that screamed ‘You said nothing about me getting you to talk first.’
Too bad that Jaskier wasn’t the only stubborn one between the two of them.
Geralt remained stoic, no matter what Jaskier tried to grate on his nerves. He was content to ignore him. After all, Geralt had plenty of practice tuning out Jaskier’s singing, he would have no problem ignoring the way Jaskier –
Eyes wide and mouth opened into a silent cry, Jaskier stumbled. He fell forward, his arms flailing to protect his lute.
Without needing to think about what he was doing, Geralt reached down and grabbed Jaskier by the scruff of the neck, steadying him.
“Careful,” he growled.
And Jaskier…Jaskier turned to him with the most self-satisfied expression Geralt had ever seen on him.
“Told you,” Jaskier said cheerily. “I anything you can do-“
“Jaskier,” Geralt warned, but he failed to keep the amusement out of his voice. There was too much joy in Jaskier’s eyes to dampen his mood with Geralt’s broodiness.
“Which makes me think,” Jaskier tilted his head in contemplation. “Not that we’ve determined that I can keep quiet for longer –“
“Because you cheated.”
“Because I can keep quiet for longer,” Jaskier repeated, emphatically ignoring Geralt’s protest, “We should see if you can talk for longer than me.”
“No we shouldn’t.”
Jaskier skipped a couple of steps ahead, until he was walking right before Roach, turning around so he was walking still facing Geralt as he walked. “Whyever not?”
“Because this thing we’re doing isn’t about me,” Geralt replied with a huff. “And talking is no valuable life skill.”
The gasp Jaskier let out could put any actor delivering their final monologue to shame in how theatrical it was. Jaskier clutched a hand over his chest and pointed an accusatory finger at Geralt.
“The audacity!” Jaskier gave Roach a long-suffering look, as if she would understand his woe and agree with him. “Geralt. My dearest friend. You can be such a smart man, but what you said just now? That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Ever heard yourself talking?”
“Don’t try to distract me with insults. I have lived at court, trading insults is a battle you won’t win. Speaking of which, talking might not be important in the woods, but it sure is invaluable when you want rich people to pay you, which – oh! Wait. That is exactly what you want.”
Geralt grunted. “Your point?”
Jaskier’s lips stretched into a grin. He lowered his voice into a very bad imitation of Geralt’s growl, when he said, “My point is that you wouldn’t survive at court without me out here.” His voice jumped back to its normal pitch. “In other words, you need me.”
Geralt scoffed, though for some reason he liked the certainty with which Jaskier said those words.
“I really don’t.”
“Prove it then.”
“What?”
Jaskier stopped, forcing Roach to come to a halt as well.
“I said prove it. I don’t see why I’m the only one that needs to prove that I’m a worthy travel companion – “
“It was your idea,” Geralt grumbled.
“-so, how about this: I continue to do everything you think I need to be able to do out here and you prove to me that you could survive at court.”
“I don’t want to survive at court. And I don’t have to prove anything.”
Jaskier’s brows rose and he lifted his chin in a challenge. “Sounds to me like you’re scared.”
Geralt glowered at Jaskier. He could just guide Roach to walk around Jaskier. He could just ignore that stupid challenge.
But Jaskier had that look on his face. It was infuriating. Geralt never stood a chance against that look.
He jumped off Roach and walked over to Jaskier, trying to make himself look as menacing as possible, until they stood almost chest to chest.
He could see Jaskier’s throat bob as he swallowed. Geralt leaned in until their noses were almost touching.
“You’re on,” he growled, before he turned away from Jaskier and made to get onto Roach.
He was stopped by Jaskier clearing his throat.
“Actually,” Jaskier drawled. “At court it’s considered very impolite to ride on a horse while your companion is walking.”
Geralt’s brows drew together. “I’m not letting you ride Roach.”
Jaskier let out a short laugh. “Oh, don’t you worry, I am out of practice anyway.” He stepped to the side to make space for Geralt to walk next to him while leading Roach. “But I bet you can’t walk for hours as you make me do.”
--
It became clear quite quickly that Geralt had underestimated Jaskier’s ability to be petty. Obviously most of what Jaskier made him do now was revenge for the ridiculous tasks Geralt had given Jaskier.
Well, two could play this game. And oh, how they did. For weeks they went back and forth, Geralt giving Jaskier a task that he performed with gritted teeth and Jaskier enacting his revenge by making Geralt do all sorts of ridiculous things. One would think that sooner or later one of them would run out of ideas, but Geralt had been walking the Path long enough to know that there were never enough skills to have and whatever could be said about Jaskier, no one could deny that he was creative.
And of course neither one of them was willing to back down from a challenge.
Which was the reason why Geralt disguised his obligatory protest at Jaskier’s newest demand as a clever explanation for why he can’t possibly do what Jaskier dared him to.
“How on earth am I supposed to ‘dress appropriately for court’ when I don’t have any fancy clothes with me.”
Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “You would have, if you had listened to me when I had asked you to come to the tailor with me.”
Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose. “That was back in Touissant. Months ago.” He gestured to the trees surrounding them. “I don’t think there’s a tailor anywhere close.”
Jaskier opened his mouth before letting it snap shut again.
“What?” Geralt demanded.
A blush crept across Jaskier’s cheeks and he averted his eyes. “Nothing it’s just…There are courtly clothes here. Myclothes.”
Geralt’s mouth went dry. “You want…” His eyes drifted to the doublet Jaskier was wearing. Without wanting to, he imagined Jaskier opening the buttons one by one and giving Geralt his own doublet.
When Geralt didn’t resume talking, Jaskier’s eyes darted back to him. For a moment he looked confused before his expression morphed into one of panic. “Oh, gods, no, that’s not what I – no. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t make you…” Jaskier cut himself off and went over to his bags, rummaging through them for long enough that Geralt began to wonder if maybe he was just trying to avoid looking at Geralt. Finally, Jaskier came back with a triumphant sound that didn’t bode well for Geralt and a deep purple doublet.
“No,” Geralt said firmly, as he eyed the garment in distaste. “I am not wearing that.”
“So are you saying that you give up?”
Geralt held Jaskier’s gaze for a tense moment, before snatching the doublet out of his hands.
“Fine,” he growled. “Don’t complain if it tears. This was your idea.”
Geralt felt awkward as he shrugged off his own shirt and donned the doublet. The fabric felt nice enough against his skin, but for some reason, the knowledge that Geralt was wearing Jaskier’s clothes set his chest ablaze. The sensation was so distracting that he fumbled with the buttons, unable to close them on his own.
“Here, let me,” Jaskier offered and suddenly he was right in Geralt’s space. His head was lowered so that he could see what he was doing as he buttoned up the doublet with practiced movements.
Without meaning to, Geralt leaned forward, just a bit. Just enough to catch more of the lavender-scent that clung to Jaskier’s hair.
“There, all done,” Jaskier said and looked back up. His eyes widened when he saw just how close he was to Geralt who sucked in a sharp breath. Their faces were only inches apart and Jaskier’s hands that had come to rest on Geralt’s chest were burning his skin through the fabric.
“Jaskier…” He didn’t know why he said it, why suddenly this name was all he could think about.
His skin was burning and the doublet felt too tight, too hot.
Geralt squirmed and as if he had been shook out of a stupor, Jaskier took a step back. Geralt pretended not to notice the way the loss of the touch left him strangely cold.
“Yeah, no, you were right,” Jaskier blurted, his face burning in a furious red. “That’s not your colour. At all. Just-“ he gestured to all of Geralt, his eyes lingering on the buttons threatening to pop over Geralt’s chest and the way the fabric stretched over his arms, “that looks just utterly unacceptable. You need to get that off right now.”
Geralt barely had the chance to nod, before Jaskier was on him again, practically tearing the doublet off of him.
He turned back as soon as Geralt was free of the garment again. Geralt should have been relieved to be rid of the atrocious thing, but as he watched Jaskier stuff it into the bottom of his pack as if he wanted to never see it again - as if the sight of Geralt wearing it had been so terrible that he wanted to ban it from memory forever - he felt a strange pang in his chest.
--
After that, Geralt wasn’t sure how to proceed. Usually, he wouldn’t have waited a day to give Jaskier the next challenge, but ever since the incidence, as Geralt had come to think of it, Jaskier had been strangely tense.
Geralt wracked his brain, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. Maybe the doublet had ripped after all without Geralt noticing. And who could blame him? It had been distracting having Jaskier so close, touching him.
Then again, nothing had happened. It didn’t even deserve to be called an incident. Still, Geralt couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed that day, that they had come dangerously close to having something happen.
Whatever it had been, it couldn’t happen again.
And so Geralt refrained from challenging Jaskier.
At least he did, until Jaskier looked at him a couple of days later with an unreadable expression on his face.
“I am sorry,” Jaskier said quietly.
Geralt’s brows furrowed as he searched Jaskier’s face. “What are you sorry for?”
Jaskier shrugged and turned his face away. “You are cross with me. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Geralt’s throat grew tight at the way Jaskier’s voice wavered. “You didn’t. And I’m not.”
“No?” Jaskier looked so hopeful, so relieved. “I just thought…you didn’t give me a new challenge and I was worried I had ruined it.”
Geralt’s chest clenched uncomfortably. “So eager to get your ass kicked?” He said as carefree as he could and nudged Jaskier in the ribs with his elbow. “I just needed time to come up with a good challenge.”
“Did you find one?”
“Hmm.” Geralt looked around camp as subtly as possible, frantically trying to find something he could make into a new challenge. As always, his eyes landed back on Jaskier. More specifically on his exposed forearms, where he had rolled up his sleeves.
“Arms,” he blurted out. When Jaskier gave him a confused look, he cleared his throat and gestured between himself and Jaskier. “We should do arm wrestling. As a test of strength.”
Jaskier get out an incredulous laugh. “You want me to test my strength against a witcher?”
Geralt shrugged, a pointless attempt to hide his sheepishness. “You are the one who said you could do anything better than me.”
Jaskier’s arms drifted down to Geralt’s arms, assessing. Eventually he nodded.
“Alright.” Jaskier’s voice was uncharacteristically hoarse. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
And oh, how he did. He stood no chance, of course, even as Geralt held back. Jaskier put all of his strength into it. He used both hands. He stood up and tried to use his body weight.
He let out a noise of frustration and his face scrunched up in an expression that could only be described as adorable.
Geralt didn’t even realise how lost he had gotten looking at Jaskier until he heard a low thud and Jaskier’s face twisted in disappointment.
Geralt forced himself to look away from Jaskier’s face and saw the obvious. He had Jaskier’s hand pinned down.
“I guess you won,” Jaskier said and made a face. “You have found something I can’t do.”
Geralt hesitated. This would have been the perfect moment to gloat, to declare this silly game over. What left his mouth instead was, “We’re even now. I couldn’t wear the clothes and you can’t beat me. I’d say that means we still don’t know which one of us is better.”
Though Geralt knew. When Jaskier’s eyes lit up at Geralt’s words, he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Jaskier was better – he might even be the best man Geralt knew.
--
After that, the fight was fully on again. Jaskier didn’t hold back. Not an hour later, when the moon had just begun to creep across the sky, Jaskier stood up and offered Geralt his hand.
“I bet you can’t dance.”
He was right, of course, but not once did he mention how Geralt kept stepping on his feet or how his posture was all wrong.
Geralt wouldn’t have cared if he had. He didn’t think his defeat would have even registered. He was too occupied fighting and failing to keep his heartbeat slow as Jaskier pulled him ever closer and let him through the motions of the dance while humming a soft melody.
In this moment, he couldn’t have cared less if he lost a bet or not.
And it appeared that Jaskier cared just as little about winning the bet, just this once.
Neither of them said a word about it and when they finally let go of each other, Jaskier just looked at him with that same unreadable expression he had shown more and more often lately.
“Your turn to make a move,” was the only thing he said, before disappearing inside the tent.
--
Geralt was hurt. It wasn’t a deep or particularly painful wound. Not that one would be able to tell from the way Jaskier fussed over him with worry etched into his face.
“I bet,” Geralt pressed through his teeth, “that you don’t know how to clean a wound.”
Jaskier stared at him in disbelieve. “You’re absolutely right I don’t.”
“Don’t you want to try?”
Jaskier’s brows drew together like storm clouds and his voice was thunder. “Really, Geralt? You’re bleeding. Do you really think this is the right time for this? If I mess this up-“
“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted him and put his hand soothingly on Jaskier’s wrist. He could feel his pulse pump beneath his fingers and he rubbed a small circle into his soft skin. “You won’t hurt me. This is just a scratch. The drowner barely got me.”
“It wouldn’t have gotten you at all if I hadn’t been in the way,” Jaskier said bitterly.
Geralt’s chest clenched and he squeezes Jaskier’s arm gently, making him look at him. “That doesn’t matter. The important thing is that you didn’t get hurt. And that you know what to do if you ever do get hurt.”
There were implications in Geralt’s words that he didn’t want to think too hard about. He didn’t get the chance to anyway. Jaskier looked at him with wide eyes, before he nodded and set to work.
His hands were gentle and he hummed soothing melodies as he cleaned and stitched Geralt’s wound under his instructions. Geralt wouldn’t have been able to think of anything but Jaskier’s closeness if he had wanted to.
--
“Why on earth would I need to know how to do that?” Geralt said scowling, to the utter annoyance of Jaskier how groaned in exasperation.
“No, no no, don’t do that! That’s the exact opposite of what I told you to do. You should be smiling.”
“But why? Who cares if I smile?”
“I do. I-I mean, people at court do. You need to look pleasant and approachable if you want to charm anyone.”
“I don’t want to charm anyone.”
“Too late for that,” Jaskier muttered, quietly enough that Geralt was certain the words hadn’t been meant for him.
Still, Geralt scowled even harder, just to spite Jaskier and maybe, just maybe to make his own frown turn into a laugh.
“Geralt! Stop that this instant! Truly, sometimes I think you enjoy riling me up.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “This is it. You are a hopeless student. I’d have better luck teaching Roach how to behave at court. She definitely is more charming.”
Geralt couldn’t help it. His lips twitched up. “You’d have to bribe her.”
Jaskier snorted. “I’m already working on it. One day I’ll get her to eat that dreadful old cloak you insist on keeping.”
Jaskier looked dead serious and a by now familiar warmth spread through Geralt’s chest at Jaskier’s unconvincing scowl.
A snort of laughter left his mouth and in the blink of an eye Jaskier’s face softened.
“There it is,” he said in a tone Geralt couldn’t place. If he dared to let himself imagine, he would have called it fond. “You may never again say that you aren’t charming.”
--
“What on earth does this prove?” Jaskier panted as he tried to dodge yet another swing of Geralt’s fist aimed at his face.
“It should prove that you’d be able to defend yourself against bandits or at least hold your own in a bar fight.”
“Why would I -“ Jaskier ducked under a ridiculously slow punch that would have been truly embarrassing to get hit by, “need to do that?” He jumped backwards. “I can always talk myself out of trouble or – careful Geralt! – or you’d be there to save me. I don’t know why –“ his rant ended in a sharp cry as he stumbled over his own feet.
He let out an exaggerated grown when he hit the ground. Geralt was on him within a second, pinning his hands to the ground.
Jaskier huffed, his breath ghosting over Geralt’s face. He went still.
Geralt’s brows furrowed. “At least try to get out of my hold,” Geralt growled. “You need to be able to protect yourself. What if I’m not around?”
“Why wouldn’t you be?” Jaskier’s voice was strangely breathless. “Why would I go anywhere without you?”
Geralt froze.
For the first time it hit him just how close they were, with Geralt’s body practically pressing Jaskier’s into the ground. At some point, Geralt’s hair band had loosened and some strands of his hair had come free, framing his face and tickling Jaskier’s cheeks.
“Geralt?”
Geralt’s eyes followed the movement of Jaskier’s lips. The was so close. It would be so easy to just lean down and brush his lips against Jaskier’s. The feel of Jaskier’s body pressing up against him wasn’t enough anymore. Geralt’s heart was pounding in his chest and he wanted, he needed–
He had no time to think. No time to voice what he couldn’t even comprehend.
Because before he had the chance to do any of that, Jaskier leaned forward and breached the gap between them. He let out a soft noise that sounded almost like a sigh when they lips finally met.
Jaskier’s lips were soft and eager and they moved against Geralt’s as if he had been waiting to do this for a long time.
It took Geralt a moment to respond, but once the shock left him, he returned the kiss with just as much fervour. A low growl rose in his chest as he pressed impossibly closer against Jaskier.
His hands let go of Jaskier’s wrists, instead finding his hands and intertwining them.
Gently, Geralt bit into the softness of Jaskier’s lips, eliciting the sweetest sound from him. He felt Jaskier tug his hands free and Geralt let him, eager to feel Jaskier bury his fingers in his hair.
Instead, they pushed against him. Geralt let out a strangled groan when Jaskier broke the kiss and used Geralt’s surprise to throw his leg over Geralt and switch their positions.
Now he was leaning above Geralt, caging him in with his arms and giving him the biggest and smuggest look Geralt could imagine.
“Why…Jaskier, what…” He was unable to finish the sentence, wasn’t even sure what exactly it was that he wanted to ask. All he knew is that he needed to know. He needed this to not have been only a distraction.
“This, my dearest witcher,” Jaskier announced, leaning in close to Geralt; close enough that their breaths mingled and Jaskier’s fringe brushed Geralt’s skin. “Is a technique I am sure wasn’t taught in Kaer Morhen. The one type of battle you won’t be able to win against me.”
Geralt swallowed thickly. “What kind of battle?”
“Why, it’s called battling for dominance. With our tongues.”
“What?”
Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Kissing, Geralt. I’m obviously talking about kissing.”
“For a bard you have a terrible way of describing that.”
Jaskier huffed and Geralt could almost feel his smile against his lips. “Are you saying you’d be a better poet than me? Want to prove it to me?”
Geralt shook his head, his throat tight. One of his hands wandered up to Jaskier’s face, caressing his cheek. “I am much more interested which one of our tongues has won the battle.”
“Mine, obviously.” Jaskier grinned. “I have you pinned down, don’t I?”
“Hmm.” A smile stretched across Geralt’s face and he tilted his head just enough that his lips brushed against Jaskier’s with his next words. “Any yet I feel like I have won.”
Jaskier’s breath hitched. “I guess we’ll have to do it some more then. To determine which one is the winner.”
“Yeah,” Geralt agreed, his voice but a breath. “We should.”
As Geralt captured Jaskier’s lips with his own once more, he knew with a fierce certainty that neither of them would be proven a loser in this.
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