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guardianspirits13 · 3 years

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I wanna talk about Natsuo Todoroki for a second here.

tw// mentions of abuse, self harm, and suicide

Natsuo visibly has the most emotional trauma out of anyone else in his family (Touya not included), and I really wanna talk about why that is.

For starters, we haven't seen him really smile since he was introduced in chapter 187. He's introduced as having a friendly, easygoing persona and it's easy to imagine this is how most people outside of his family know him. However, every time we see him appear since then, another layer of his trauma is revealed and expanded upon, and it cuts DEEP.

I think the main reason that Natsuo still seems so vulnerable compared to the rest of his family is different than what you'd assume. Fuyumi and Shouto both spend a lot of time around Endeavor, and have been in close proximity to his (relatively recent) decision to atone. They have seen his growth firsthand and come to terms with it. Rei has obviously taken a very different path to healing- not entirely voluntarily- but she has been working with doctors and therapists for years to change and recover and reconnect with herself and her children. Natsuo is off at college, and takes every opportunity he can to avoid Endeavor. He (understandably) wants nothing to do with him, and shows stagnant resistance to his attempts to atone.

The reason why Natsuo can't move on from the past is because his trauma didn't come from Endeavor. It came from Touya.

Now initially we were led to believe that it was simply Touya's untimely death that still bothers Natsuo, and it makes sense seeing how Endeavor drove him to the edge. Losing his best friend and brother as a young kid without parents to support him or any therapist to speak of can absolutely been the source of persistent emotional damage, but the more and more we learn about Touya's situation, the more evident it becomes that Natsuo's trauma is much much deeper than even grief.

Touya, as we know, was driven by an ambition instilled in him by his father and experienced extreme rejection sensitivity when those ambitions were no longer realistic. Touya's relationship with his parents could be described as insecure attachment, a psychological term primarily regarding how kids react and respond to their parents and other close relationships. As he was raised, Touya learned to equate his potential to be a hero with his personal worth and similarly confounded attention with love. The difference being, of course, that love is unconditional, but even attention was being continually directed away from him as a punishment for continuing to train and burn himself so he could once again become worthy in his fathers' eyes.

This is where Natsuo comes in. At first it was assumed that all of the Todoroki children were born out of Endeavor's strong-willed desire to have a child that could surpass All Might, but we learned that this isn't exactly the case. I'd argue that it was narratively poetic on Horikoshi's part once this was expanded upon. Fuyumi was born to support and encourage her brother, and that is the exact role she plays 23 years later, keeping her family together.

Natsuo's case is even more intersting.

It was bad enough if Natsuo was only born for the potential of his quirk, but it's even more sinister that the sole intent behind his birth was to discourage Touya from his ambitions. I'd say it was to replace him, but it was more to promote the idea that Touya was expendable than to raise aonther kid with the same ideals but the potential to actually achieve it, although that was definitely a secondary motivation.

The parallelism in this is how much Natsuo's life revolves around Touya. He was born because of Touya, he looked up to and took care of Touya as a kid, and the absence of Touya in the present continues to drive him and his decisions in life (but more on that later).

I continue to pray that we will eventually get more solid backstory on Natsuo and Touya's relationship as kids and where it cut off, wether on a bad note or not, but there are a few things we know for certain. One, Touya was mentally ill. Yes, he was rejected by his parents but he seems to have been particularly vulnerable to this compared to any of his siblings since he was the first of them and thus relied only on his parents for validation in his early years. He shows early signs of a variety of different mental disorders, particularly BPD, which I have previously written a whole analysis for on its own. Touya is shown self-harming both by the very nature of his quirk and even by very directly ripping his hair out. He was incredibly self-destructive.

This is why it is so much more concerning to me that Natsuo, who was AT LEAST four years younger than him, was his primary source of comfort. Natsuo was too young to have known anything more than 'my big brother is sad that daddy won't train him anymore' and he obviously wasn't equipped in any way to handle Touya's severe mental illness. Touya most definitely needed professional treaatment as his forms of coping were abnormal even for the neglect and rejection that he experienced. Natsuo comforted Touya through breakdown after breakdown, and more than that Touya relied on him and came to him voluntarily for support. Natsuo was the best option he had, and he took full advantage of that. The main source of Natsuo's trauma was Touya's reliance on him.

Not to say at all that this was in any way Touya's fault- he was mentally ill and desperately in need of some form of comfort to keep him sane; it was almost a survival method at this point since neither of his parents really acknowleged him at all anymore. Touya's instability hurt Natsuo more than parental neglect ever did, but it was the neglect that enabled it and striped Touya of the supportive atmosphere he would have needed at this point not only to prevent but to heal from the mental damage he had already suffered.

Natsuo dealt with this for years and you can see how much it hurt him to see Touya in so much pain, not only from Endeavor's rejection but from his own self harm as well. For Natuso to know that his brotherly love would never be the same as having loving parents; would neve be enough- but at least it was something so he continued to love and care about his brother for little in return- is indicative of the kind of character he is.

(Edit: After the events of chapter 302 we know that Natsuo's relationship with Touya wasn't perfect. I will elaborate more on this in a different post, but I just wanted to clarify that although we were shown a very high-tension scene between them, it is implied that this was a regular occurrence that Natsuo was usually more receptive too but tired out of, in addition to Touya's spiraling mental health. It fit with the natrative to show the tension Touya was feeling with his family from all directions, but Natsu and Touya clearly had a stronger relationship up to and before this point, evidenced by their sharing a room and playing together regularly.)

He is incredibly selfless, and it's interesting to note how many of his positive qualities as an adult stem from negative experiences as a kid. He never really felt love from his parents, so he relied on Touya (and likely also Fuyumi) for that as well. If he grew up learning he had to give love in order to recieve it back, it absolutely influenced who he became in the future, a solid example of this being the responsibility he feels to reach out and have a relationship with Shouto and further regrets that he wasn't able to help his abuse in the past either. Another aspect of his character that intruigues me is how gentle he is. Personality-wise he seems about as opposite as he could be from the awkward, stoic, emotionally-stunted person that is Endeavor.

There are a couple of reasons for this, beyond what I've already discussed.

One, he had little to no contact with elements of toxic masculinity growing up, especially not from Endeavor.

Two, most of the influence he did have growing up was from Fuyumi, who is established to have endlessly cared for him since he was a literal baby.

Three, he grew up in a household where almost everyone around him was in much more literal, immediate pain than he was so he developed a very strong sense of empathy that might also have been tied to early survivor's guilt.

Now I have one important distinction to make, and that's the temptation to label him as a 'softboy' or something of the like after seeing him caring for his family and more pointedly, watching him break down in tears during chapter 252. While there is absolutely nothing wrong with men being soft or vulnerable (on the contrary it's actually so so important and relevant that Hori is writing characters like this in a mainstream shounen manga but that's an essay for another time), it is unfair to label him as such based on a moment when his trauma is being exposed.

Because his truama stems from such a young age, there is a blurry line between just being born with more emotional intelligence and the situation he was in fostering those traits. You know, the classic nature/nurture thing. My point being, it's important to tread carefully when discussing the nature of his personality to avoid invalidating his trauma; I have no doubt that he is very strong for having survived these things, and the moments we see of him onscreen are definitely among his most vulnerable.

Another thing that people less familiar with Natsuo's character might assume is that he is hot-headed and argumentative. I thought that at first too- after all, he doesn't seem to shy away from yelling at Endeavor when given the opportunity. However, this doesn't seem to be the case at all.

The first real scene we see him in with Endeavor, the man walks into the room and Natsuo decides he can't handle it and goes to leave. However, Endeavor happens to be blocking the doorway. Endeavor physically stops him and provokes him to his face, asking him to say whatever is on him mind. While Natsuo is notably not confrontational, Endeavor is. I think it's fair to say that he felt at least uneasy at this gesture. Natsuo is very honest with his feelings, and it's obvious that he's pissed at the audacity of Endeavor to be so oblivious to his own son. This is presumably one of the first real interactions they've ever really had, and at this point Natsuo has been dealing with trauma (caused by Endeavor!) on his own for years, and Endeavor seems completely oblivious to his pain and dismmisive to the rest of the family's as well.

Again during the internship arc Natsuo tries to get along with Endeavor and this time he actually gives it a fleeting chance. Tensions are high, however, and the conversation very quickly becomes uncomfortable, at which point he leaves. It is continually implied that Natsuo is uncomfortable being around Endeavor because his very presence brings up painful thoughts and memories of a time when sharing the same space as him was a warning to run and hide. This is later directly confirmed by Natsuo as he says that every time he looks at Endeavor's face he remembers Touya and the pain he was in.

I feel like an important side note is that we have never seen Natsuo outside the context of his family, which is understandable, as the role he plays in the story directly relates to them. However, if you take a look at Shouto, even though his experiences have shaped him to become who he is, he definitely acts differently when Endeavor's not in the vicinity.

Back to Touya's death, it would be very rare that someone would mourn a death for an entire decade without finding closure unless there are other factors preventing it, and uncomfortably this seems to be the same thing for both Natsuo and Endeavor: guilt.

This is getting incredibly long already, but it's important to note that Natsuo probably felt an incredible responsibility to take care of Touya and protect him because of his empathetic nature. His love was never going to be the same as having loving parents. His encouragement was never going to be the same as having support from Endeavor. Even further than then neglect and abandonement, it was not being able to save Touya that really made Natsuo feel worthless.

He seems to try and remedy this inability to save Touya and diminish his guilt by doing everything he can to be better. He reaches out to Shouto to be a better brother, he consistently pushes his limits to entertain Fuyumi's notion of a happy family, and he's working hard towards a degree rhat will allow him to help people like Touya (and Rei) because he failed to do so in the past.

His bio mildly implies that he didn't have much of a direction he was heading in after high school, but Fuyumi's encouragement led him to seek out his current college career. This goes back to Natsuo's 'purpose' in a sense revolving arount Touya, from his birth to his relationship with him to his death, after which he lost his direction. They were always rather inseperable, so naturally their seperation hit Natsuo hard. He lost his direction in life so when Fuyumi encouraged him to rediscover it, he thought of helping people, because that's ultimately what he was born to do.

Thank you so, so much for reading this if you made it to the end! I clearly have a lot of thoughts on this. Let me know what you think about it as well, and hopefully we'll get more info on this soon in the manga :)

#bnha 203 #bnha spoilers #long post #natsuo todoroki #todoroki natsuo #bnha meta #mymeta #todoroki touya

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theregoesmylurkerstatus · 3 years

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SPOILERS AND ASSUMPTIONS FOR CAMPAIGN 1!

OKAY, let me start by categorising what spoilers I know as best I can, going (mostly) in chronological order AFAIK:

Clarota betrays them (VERY sad, when I first watched those first 10-ish episodes I was fully behind Keyleth’s ‘trust him’ train)

Vax loses a foot to lava and also his snake belt rip

Kima and Allura are the cool, trustworthy PCs, as is everyone’s favourite, Gilmore, a shopkeep with a black belt in karate

The dragonborn guy’s homeland gets dunked on and then later he dies offscreen

Percy’s sister is alive and betrays them but only kind of? I think? She was held captive by the Briarwoods for years and Percy thought she was dead, but she was blackmailed/brainwashed/tortured?

Vax gets cornered by the Briarwoods alone by accident (classic)

There’s a chick called Ripley who makes guns A Thing for the wider world

Something about a sun tree? It’s a creepy tree? They hallucinate their own corpses on it? Or something?

They probably kill one of the hottie vampires at the end of Percy’s arc, I think the male one? Because the lady vampire shows up later?

Percy dies in his arc and it’s the second res ritual they do, after Pike’s one pre-stream

“Take off the mask, darling.” I still don’t care about romance but I feel obligated to mention that I know that famous line

I also know the equally famous “I thought he’d never leave” bubble bath bit, ah Laura

There’s a CHROMA CONCLAVE attack right at the end of Percy’s arc, somewhere

Rashian is a dragon or something, everyone laughs at Liam for not knowing this. I know nothing else about who the Chroma conclave is (3-5 chromatic dragons??? One of each colour????) or what they want, except Vax levels up in the middle of fighting one and Keyleth yells at one

There are communication earrings. There is also a weird black powder man. Victor?

They actually have a permanent home/keep unlike the Mighty Nein?

Vex dies because Percy didn’t check for traps, this is the start of some deal of Vax’s with the Raven Queen which means he multiclasses into paladin?

Vax can fly, he can fly, he can fly!

Uhhhh there’s a couple cursed swords or something in there lol

Percy sells his soul briefly? Genius move Smart Guy lmao

Feywild??? Somehow????? They meet Artagan and make a deal with him for a doorway, and they spend an episode as cows somewhere in here?

Keyleth has Mom Trauma, I don’t know how much this will feature in the campaign

Vax and Vex’s dad suxxx or something, mother is dead

Scanlan hits on his surprise daughter and everyone screams

They have some kind of year long adventuring group break for some reason?

Keyleth makes a storm on an airship (???) and this is cool. Also she turns into a fire elemental a lot and this is also cool.

There’s a kraken fight? It goes really badly, like LEGENDARILY badly, and ngl I’m kind of looking forward to it

Scanlan #LOSESIT and has his legendary ‘what’s my mother’s name?’ rant, after which he leaves for an undetermined number of episodes and is replaced by Tary

This leads to Grog spelling C-A-T for some reason and this???? Makes people cry???????? Truly something you had to be there for

Pike tries to commission drawings of VM for Tary (who calls Vex “little elf girl” and braces for impact when Laura’s nostrils flare) and this goes Very Wrong in a funny way

Tary’s dad sucks

He writes a book

Some NPC reads said book in campaign 2, hence why I know about it

Grog has an arc to do with the other Goliaths who beat him up for defending Pike’s dad?

When Scanlan comes back he tries to sneak in, Vex chases him and he panics and casts modify memory on Vex, it fails several times, an angsty moment becomes comedic very fast

He is received with Mixed Emotions lmao

Keyleth turns into a goldfish and kills herself, this is both apparently extremely painful and extremely funny

Vax gets disintegrated and dies in a beholder fight (rip)

Gilmore is not a dragon but everyone was fully convinced he was. He also gets bodysnatched or something at some point to freak out VM, but they figure out very quickly it’s not him

Scanlan is Ioun’s chosen? Whatever that means, something to help fight Vecna I think

“It was an honour knowing you” sad! Sad! Sad line! Gilmore doesn’t understand, cheekily responds, and leaves!!!! Liam looks on the verge of tears!!!!!! SAD!!!!!

There are so many true love nat 20s. I don’t know what any of them are except that Pike has one and Ashley looks like she’s about to cry

They win the Vecna fight and Keyleth gets the HDYWDT, Scanlan wanted to save a Wish spell for Vax but couldn’t, so he stays dead

Everyone cries here but at least the rest of the party is okay

Keyleth is the last woman standing and everyone cries at this too

And then Grog uses the deck of many things, spawning two oneshots to clean up his mess

Also somewhere in here Vex steals a broom from a guest (lol)

Assumptions!!!!!

More tears than campaign 2 I think, since there are at least two resurrection rituals we see on screen that I know of

The fights might be more stressful since they’re higher level?

Scanlan is going to be the most sexual and lewd character because he is played by Sam

Vex is going to be the second most sexual and lewd character because she is played by Laura

Vax will still instigate most of the one-on-ones so Liam can have as many heavy conversations as his theatre kid’s heart desires

Keyleth will try and fail to make the group more moral

Pike will not try to be moral at all despite being four feet of blessed armour and adorable hair

I think other characters try to make Percy feel remorse for Murder Reasons, but I suspect he’s not going to feel that guilty (I will likely support him in murderous endeavours unless they are FAR more messed up than I currently believe)

From what I understand Grog is Loveable but not hugely layered or complex, and I know Travis was proud he didn’t cry this campaign. I suspect I may be surprised at the character depth Travis gives him, however.

Keyleth also thinks the gods are overrated and I AGREE

Percy is three feral and eldritch raccoons in a trench coat, held together only by sheer force of will and the fragile shell of a posh accent. No one notices because it’s a really cool accent.

There will be a lot more money/shopping/drinking elements than in campaign 2, since I know Vex is a haggler, Percy is a Lord, and Keyleth is a day-drinker? As are Grog and Scanlan

It will be funny for me to see Taliesin play a smart character and Travis a dumb one, though I know that the whiplash went the other way for most people lmao

Vox Machina will be less team-heavy than the Mighty Nein? I gather they’re more of an ‘individual hero’ makeup than an ‘everyone has support abilities’ makeup

It will be more fast-paced than campaign 2? It seems like a lot of the arcs lead directly into each other, with only the occasional shopping episode break

It feels like it might be less friendship heavy than the Mighty Nein? Like they seem more like ‘we’d die for each other’ pals who otherwise spend all their time trying to draw dicks on each other’s faces

They have a more clear “party leader” than the Mighty Nein, who might be Percy and/or Keyleth

I think most PCs and NPCs are more morally clear cut than in campaign 2, like most towns and people in positions of power are either “cool guy who can pitch in” or “get rid of this abomination immediately” territory

I think my favourite character will be Vex, Percy or Keyleth. I just feel it in my bones.

I think I may also get an extreme soft spot for Grog and Pike, however

My main sources of surprise will be, I think, how things fit together? Like I have no idea WHY they’re in the Feywild, or most other places really, or what any villains’ motivations and backstories and personality traits are, and how they end up fighting any of them in any particular place for any particular reason. I don’t even really know characters’ abilities or literally anything done in any of the fights, aside from “they win/nearly die” and “Scanlan uses Wish and Bigby’s Hand against Vecna”

I assume most plot threads all lead into each other fairly solidly and that they don’t actually seek most of their stuff out?

This assumption will either be fairly right or hilariously wrong, but -- I assume that I already know almost everything important or shocking? I tried really hard to avoid it but being active in campaign 2 meant that over time I got exposed to more and more of campaign 1, and I genuinely believe that I have almost everything down, if not details or order. I don’t think I’ve missed any big moment or impactful arc

Let’s see if I’m right

#critical role #campaign 1 #ramblings #Vox Machina #campaign 1 spoilers #c1e01 #c2e114 #c1e115 #will start rewatch (just first episode) either today or tomorrow

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moonctzeny · 3 years

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Softer than velvet

pairing: magazine co-editor! mark lee x fem!y/n

genre: smut

warnings: office sex

word count: 2,926

summary: “Mark is a co-editor in the fashion magazine you work for, monopolizing everyones attention with his looks, including yours. Prompted by his vast knowledge about lingerie and his tendency to want to rip them apart, you invite him in your office, and you definitely put him to work”

a/n: inspired by the legendary scene from ‘Community’ and a discussion I had with my bf and best friend about lingerie.

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He looked dashing again, as always.

While Monday morning finds most employees in their tousled bed hair, dark eye circles and crooked buttons from hasting to be on time, Mark Lee looks like he jumped out of the fashion magazine you worked for. He was an editor, like yourself, yet the way he confidently strolled through the hallways, capturing everyone’s attention, had executives and employees alike toying with the idea of having him in their bed.

Mark’s shoulders looked even broader in the white shirt he had chosen for the day, neatly ironed and held together with a bright coral tie. A suede brown vest, that would look plain weird on anyone else that would dare pull it off, showed off his tiny waist perfectly, short enough for the workers on the welcome desk to whisper in admiration about his ‘cute perky butt’.

As one of Mark’s many secret fans, you wanted to join in on their giggling, but as his coworker you had to keep yourself from indulging in those dirty thoughts that kept creeping in your head. It was hard to deny this sweet distraction, that perks you up in excitement and turns up the heat of your body. Like now, that he makes his way towards you in the main lobby, and you wonder how nice his pink locks would look between your thighs.

“Good morning, y/n”, he says when he’s finally standing in front of you, and you almost spill your mug filled with instant coffee in the sound of his raspy morning voice.

“Lee”, you address him almost coldy, but your smirk as you take a sip of the hot liquid gives you away. You can’t stop yourself from checking him out, his new high-end belt begging to be tugged on and used in other ways that it was originally made for. He bites his cheek when he notices your eyes laying on his crotch a second too long but he decides not to mention it.

“Are you going on a cigarette break soon?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes before making sure to lower your voice. “Didn’t you hear yesterday’s briefing? New boss is trying to cut them and apparently so must we. No smoking allowed here anymore.”

“Then you chose the wrong outfit”

He seems satisfied with the little yelp you let out, internally scolding yourself for getting so worked up over his compliment but hell, there’s nothing more you want than to fuck that smile off his face. If that’s what he wanted that’s what he’d get, but you refuse to look all fucked out here in the open just from the mere words of Mark Lee. Not when so many of your assistants were watching.

“We got assigned the lingerie issue together”, you change the subject and start walking towards your offices at the end of the floor. “ I need you to show me your picks later”

“It was hard finding anything worth including, except for Savage X Fenty nothing new is in the game. The La Perla designs are so outdated, and don’t get me started on Fleur du Mal.”

“Wow, you seem to know a lot about lingerie, huh?”, you exclaim, genuinely impressed, and you let him bask in his pride for a little. He runs his fingers through his hair and you catch a whiff of his shampoo, its scent coupled with his cologne highly addictive.

“I love fashion, and it’s kind of my job so I have to keep up. I’m not really a big fan of them, though.”

You raise an eyebrow at his confession, and halt as you arrive outside his office that is a little nearer than yours. Your body is leaning up against the wall, in a way that accentuates the curves of your body and Mark doesn’t try to be discreet in his staring. He might as well raise his hands, go through the layers and layers of palpable sexual tension between you and run them all over your body like you so desperately want.

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re pretty”, he starts, and you’re not sure if he’s addressing you, your lips or your decolletage.”But if we were getting down to business and I saw you in lingerie, all I’d think about is how to rip it off of you”

It takes every ounce of self control in your body and the thought of how much you need your salary not to pounce at him, and start removing his clothes right then and there. The masks of professionalism have vanished and so has your patience with him, so you fix his tie, tying it up a little tighter than it needs to be and you love the gasp that leaves his chapped lips.

“Since you are so knowledgeable Mark, I’m not sure if the lingerie I’m wearing is off-season. How about you come to my office later to hand me your picks and give me your honest opinion?”

He chokes on thin air, the angry veins on his neck twitching from the lack of circulation to his head as he huffs out a chuckle.

“I’ll be there before the meeting starts”, he promises before slipping inside his office, his hands brushing yours as he slides past you. You bet he thinks he’s smooth, but his reflection on the glass door of his neighboring office betrays him, catching him in the act of staring at your ass as you walk away. You wink at his reflection and he winces when he realizes, but you’ll forgive him. This sweet distraction in the name of Mark Lee was all you needed this boring Monday morning, and you can’t wait to see if your coworker is as skillful as he talks himself up to be.

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The wait wasn’t long, but it sure was painful, your mind wandering at the conversation you had with Mark this morning and eyes checking the time every five minutes. You’d almost miss his figure in your absentmindedness, standing outside your office, nervously shifting his body weight from one leg to the other.

The glass separating your office with the main hall was tinted, with a few stripes of clear glass on the very top, giving you a limited view of the people hurrying past. Through those lines you also saw Mark, hesitating to knock and giving himself what looks like a pep talk. You think it’s adorable and decide to take him out of his misery, getting up yourself to open the door.

His mouth drops open when you do, looking like a deer in the headlights with his big doe eyes and binder that is placed -strategically- over his crotch. You smile politely and motion him to come in, your meetup not seeming strange to any passerby, as you have worked together many times in the past. The moment he turns the knob behind him to close the door, Mark drops the designs from his hands, pictures of lingerie flying in the air and landing across the carpeted floor. You barely manage to turn the lock before he pushes you backwards with a hand on your jaw, until you feel the wood of your desk digging against your ass.

You close your eyes and immediately are braced with the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth, the strong aftertaste of cinnamon candy tingling your tastebuds. Bringing him closer by his tie, you let him lift you up the table, legs wrapping around his waist and you verify that he was, indeed, already hard behind that binder.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that”, he murmurs in the kiss and tugs on the roots of your hair suddenly, forcing your head to tilt back and thus expose your neck.

His breath is hot over your collarbones and the feeling of his hardness is driving you insane, so you let your blazer fall from your shoulders before taking off his vest. Mark helps you out by loosening his tie and starts to unbutton his shirt, but you stop him when his chest is almost half-exposed.

“Don’t take it off, you look sexy like that”

He blushes from your compliment, momentarily letting go of his surprisingly dom persona.

“I thought I was supposed to examine your outfit though?”, he asks cheekily and you remove your blouse, revealing the teddy that’s been hugging your body.

It’s black, with a mesh body and velvet lining over the cups and crotch area. The adjustable straps help your boobs look full and round, the velvet strips that are going down, parallel to your body lines, make you look as curvy as ever.

Mark looks a little lost, like a kid in a candy store and he clears his throat before speaking up again.

“I need to feel the fabric”, he states, almost too seriously for the situation you were both in currently and he runs his fingers from your belly button upwards to your abs. His fingers toy with the lace adorning the cups and he finally squeezes your boobs. He chuckles at the naughtiness of what you’re doing right now, breaking character, and you’re reminded of how young Mark really is. You free your right boob from its constraint and the sight of your nipple, hard and erect for him, immediately sobers him up.

His mouth has stayed open in his trance, and you take advantage of it by placing your fingers over his lips, then slowly pushing them in. With his tongue wetting your fingertips, and his big eyes glued on you, waiting for your next move, he really resembles a puppy, and you gloat in the sudden gain of control over him.

When you feel that he’s had enough, or rather, that you’ve had enough, you push your digits out of the comfortable rim of his mouth, coating your nipple with a light layer of his spit.

“So?”, you mewl seductively, “what do you think?”

“It needs to be softer, I think”

You stop massaging yourself, tilting your head in confusion by his critique.

“Softer? What is softer than velvet?”

Mark smirks back at you, hand leaving your breast and travelling south.

“I can think of something”

He finds the buttons over the crotch of the teddy, the pieces of fabric they’re holding together damp with your arousal. You shiver when you feel his fingers easily gliding through your folds, teasing your entrance and pinching your clit.

A whine leaves your lips as he removes his fingers momentarily, falling on his knees in front of you. Suddenly remembering where you are, you stretch your body a little in your paranoia, checking if anyone is standing outside your office, witnessing your dirty meetup. But Mark is quick to bring you back up to heaven, with a flick of his tongue over your clit.

“Mmmm, so soft”

He looks so fucking delicious looking up at you, tie discarded on the floor now and lips coated with your wetness and his spit. You can feel the scruffiness of his 5 o’clock shadow slightly scratching the inside of your thighs that are so sensitive and shake in pleasure. Reaching your hands back for any form of stability you knock down some of the stationery, but how can you care when Mark draws circles with his fingers on your entrance?

He pushes in his index, then his middle finger as well, setting a pace that is as slow as it is sinfully pleasurable. Your small office is filled with the sounds of his kissing and slurping, but you can’t ask him to be quiet when you struggle to lower your moans as well. The feeling of the soft pads of his fingers massaging your walls and his tongue sucking on your pussy makes you light-headed, your nails digging in the wooden surface and desperately chasing your high. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and you bite your fist so as not to make a sound, but Mark’s not done yet.

He places one hand sturdily on your hips, the other cupping your left boob, successfully helping you keep your balance. He keeps lapping up your arousal, sucking on the swollen bud and you swear you see stars. You’re thrashing around in your overstimulation, too close to screaming from pleasure and you grab Mark’s hair to push him away.

His eyes are blown out from arousal, mouth gasping for air and chin wet with your juices. The desire to have him is animalistic, and you force him up by his collar, replacing his place on the floor.

“My turn”

Unbuckling his belt in swift moves, you manage to free his member from his boxers, bright red and leaking for you. Placing his tip on your tongue, you can taste the saltiness of his precum, and Mark sighs at the warmth of your mouth. You rest your hands on his thighs, looking up to see his pretty face contorted in pleasure when you swirl your tongue around his length.

“Oh my god, just like that”

Determined to return the favour, you gulp around him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You ignore the burning feeling on your knees and throat and keep him there, until tears are threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. After bobbing your head over his cock, listening to his swears over and over again you can tell he is close, and you start jerking him, slowly picking up your pace.

He lets out a guttural groan when you start palming his tip and he slaps your hand away, taking his dick in his own grasp. “Show me something worth cumming for. I want to see your body”

You fumble with the cups of your lingerie, trying to free your boobs but it’s hard, with the straps getting in the way and the fabric being too sturdy to stretch so far. Mark gets impatient with you taking so long, so he crouches forward, bunching up the mesh in his fists and ripping it in half.

Shocked yet turned on by his action you let the garment drop from your body, leaving you in only your skirt that is bunched up over your hips. Passing the mounds on your breasts you let your hands move lower, and you start to play with your pussy for Mark to see. You’re still so sensitive from your orgasm earlier and you let him know, moaning his name as you expose yourself fully for him.

As he moves his wrist frantically over his shaft, his eyes are glued on your lower lips. They are a raging red at this point, and he’s losing his mind over the look of pure lust painted on your face. He wishes he could paint it with something else but he knows you’re in the workplace, yet nothing can keep him from entertaining the thought.

“Where do you want it?”, he huffs out just a second before he’s reaching his own high and you open your mouth, giving him a silent invitation. He moves his hips closer to you, tapping his tip over your eager tongue and he watches intently at the ropes of cum that are slowly filling up your mouth.

You raise your thumb on your lips, collecting the drops that are spilling from the corner of your mouth and you swallow before Mark can even hand you the metal bin next to your desk. He seems to be in complete ecstasy, chuckling for no reason as he puts his softening member back into his underwear and helps you back into your clothes (or whatever is left from them).

“I’m sorry for ripping your lingerie”, he mumbles finally and you want to coo at how cute he sounds, “I’ll buy you a new one, I promise”

You laugh lightly, helping him at picking up the pictures of the lingerie pieces that are scattered on your floor. “It better be one of your picks”, you tease him, waving the burgundy set you were holding and he licks his lips, picturing you in it.

“Sure. How about I give it to you over some dinner this weekend?”

His offer excites you, so you nod in agreement, and you shuffle awkwardly in the heavy atmosphere of the room. As you pick up the last picture, placing it neatly inside Mark’s binder, you feel his hand wrapping around your waist, bringing you close against him. Instinctively, you kiss him, allowing yourself to get lost in the movement of his lips, that mostly taste like you and you nibble at them lightly. Mark was in the middle of squeezing the softness of your ass, humming in appreciation, when a beep comes simultaneously from both of your phones. It’s the meeting he was talking about this morning and you groan for having to let him go.

He hands you a piece of gum when you both enter the hall and you take it, praying that no one will smell his cologne all over your skin, or notice that you’re going commando under your clothes. One of your co-workers and Mark’s buddy, that you address with a nod every time you cross paths in the office kitchen catches up to you, and throws an arm over his shoulders.

“Mark, my man, you’re glowing today! Wanna grab a bite after the meeting?”

The boy turns his head in your direction, giving you a once over and winking your way, before answering with a smile that is so evident in his voice.

“Nah, thanks. I already ate”

#nct au #nct smut #mark lee smut #neosmutcollective #mark smut #nct 127 #nct scenario #mark x reader #nct imagines #superm smut #nct dream smut

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bts-hyperfixation · 3 years

Text

Soulmates

JJK X Reader soulmate AU

Warnings: Minor character death(car crash, only mentioned nothing graphic), Drinking

I don’t know if this is what you (the requester) were going for? this is somehow where I ended up

Everyone in this world has a soulmate. Someone that is meant to complete them and make them feel whole.

Your other half can be identified by the matching birthmark hidden somewhere on their body. There are also a lot of people whose marks are so close to matching that it almost feels like the real thing… almost. Sadly, many don’t ever get to experience the love of their true soulmate, so they settle for the closest they can get.

Jungkook was convinced he was one of the lucky few. Looking at her made his heart feel like it was going to burst. Every time he saw her the world got brighter, the birds started singing a little louder, and his stress nearly melted away entirely … nearly. But at 17 no one is going to pay attention to nearly.

Their birthmark’s matched so closely, each sporting a small puzzle piece on opposite wrists. You wouldn’t even bat an eyelid at the loved-up pair as they walked together hand in hand. And he loved her so completely, and her him, that they never thought to question it. Madly in love until the day she died.

Jungkook spent weeks almost comatose when the news of her car crash reached him. Couldn’t move, eat, sleep. To lose your soulmate so young was said to be a fate worse than never finding them at all. Even after coming through the other side people could tell he wasn’t the same carefree young boy he had been, most likely never would be again. His eyes’ looked far older than his years now, his soft features much more angular.

Three months after her death he resolve to never fall in love again, happy in the knowledge that he got to know her even for such a short amount of time.

….

You met Jungkook at a party. Someone from Uni decided that 24 was the right age for a big birthday bash. They hired out an entire club and set up a series of activities for people to enjoy. A mechanical ball on the main floor, a ball pit to the side, a BBQ in the smoking area, and a bouncy castle in the downstairs 90’s themed area. It really was an amazing event. You however spent most of your time watching the quiet Korean boy in the corner, every time his eyes met yours you felt compelled to move to him, talk to him, dance with him, anything that would get his attention on you. At the time you put it down to the alcohol. It took you exactly 3 and a half drinks to pick up the courage and interrupt his current conversation.

He was very sweet, really sweet considering he clearly didn’t want to be talking to you. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted and the nervous playing with his sleeves, still you persevered. Something about him wouldn’t let you give up, not yet at least. Your saving grace came when your favourite band came blaring over the speakers. “PRETTYMUCH” aren’t an underrated band per say but it’s difficult to find someone who knows them in your circle, so when Jungkook’s face lit up at the same time as yours you knew you had your in. So with the Phases remix blaring through the club you took your opportunity.

“I love this song!” You took his hand and pulled him on to the dance floor before you really realised that’s what you are doing. To start with he was frozen, a little shocked by your boldness, but as you gave it your all he joined in, loosening up for the first time that entire night. After that it was a lot easier to talk to him, you actually went into the smoking area to talk more about shared music interests.

After you went to get a drink you got caught up with some others and he came to find you. It felt like an electric shock when he’d grabbed your hand to get your attention, but there were a lot of balloons around so that would explain the residual electricity. By the time the party was over, and the club was closing, you didn’t want to leave him, not just now but ever. You found yourselves wandering around aimlessly, talking about nothing until the sun came up. Looking back it was then you decided Jungkook was it for you. You had never really believed in the soulmate tradition until you met him.

Weeks go by of you texting back and forth. You found out the reason he was so into music was because he was a musician himself, he even promised to perform for you sometime. A lot of promises were made in those messages.

‘There’s this amazing Restaurant in the city’ you claimed promising to take him with you next time.

‘I really want to see this movie’ he said promising to pay for tickets when it came out.

‘We should go see this band together’ The number one promise between the two of you, quickly racking up a lot of different acts to see together.

So when one of those bands turned up on the roster for the local you’d bought tickets immediately sending him the confirmation. Your stomach had fluttered thinking about seeing him in person again. And so you counted down the days as they passed. Picked and repicked your outfit. Talked yourself in and out of going. Eventually the day arrived. The doorbell signalling his arrival was deafening, ringing out through your small studio apartment. You took a few deep breaths before opening the door.

He was flawless, your tipsy memory hadn’t done him justice. A broad chest draped in a white long sleeve tee, ripped skinnies straining against his thighs, his hair swept into a James Dean quiff. You might’ve laughed at the way your outfits had accidently matched (a black crop with white skinnies) had you been capable of making a noise.

“Ready to go?” He asked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. You’d nodded, blushing when you realised you had been staring.

It was a short bus ride into the town centre. Spent in relatively comfortable silence arms brushing against one another in the limited space on the crowded vehicle. The club was packed wall to wall when you got inside, no hope of getting to the front of the crowd, or so you’d thought. Jungkook grabbed your hand winked at you and began heading in the opposite direction of the stage. He led you up some back stairs and on to a balcony you hadn’t ever noticed before.

“I’ve played here before, almost no one knows this is here, but it will give us the perfect view.” He dropped your hand in favour of leaning over the railing. You couldn’t help but feel cold at the loss. The performance was great, you found yourselves screaming lyrics back and forth at one another. Some people had cottoned on to your little hiding spot and soon it became as packed as the rest of the club. Whether he was trying to protect you from the others or he was pushed there you will never know, but Jungkook ended up caging you to the railing, head resting on your shoulder.

After the show you’d decided it was time to ask him how he felt. The club was still busy, but the two of you had been in a quiet corner on your own nursing drinks and chatting aimlessly.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” You asked, broaching the topic carefully. You watched closely for his reaction, but he gave nothing away. Instead he just shrugged.

“I did once.” It was too blunt, you knew you should’ve stopped but you couldn’t, now you’d decided to tell him it was like verbal diarrhoea.

“I didn’t think I did, I mean I’ve never seen any ‘matching birthmarks’ and every couple I know is perfectly happy… but then I met you and I keep thinking about it, and you, and how I feel about you.” You watched as his face goes from pensive to a deer caught in the headlights.

“I… I have to leave now.” He got up and ran into the crowd before you even had a chance to reach for him. He dipped through a back entrance of the club and into the night before you could even push through the first layer of people.

The ride home had seemed a lot longer. Holding back tears had proved extremely difficult. Of all the reactions he could’ve given you that might’ve been the worst one. Somehow you found yourself thinking even him laughing in your face might’ve been better. You left the lights in your studio switched off that night. Made a beeline for your bed and passed out face down.

It would’ve felt like a bad dream when you woke up… if it hadn’t been for the crusty mascara tracking down your cheeks. You’d picked up your phone from where it lay abandoned next to you. Battery on 12%. You’d decided then it’d be best to run damage control, at least save the friendship.

Y/N: I’m sorry about last night…

You hadn’t expected his reply to be quick, so it’d surprised you when the typing bubbles appeared immediately; and furthered your sadness when they disappeared moments later without a message.

For days you spiralled. Going over the moment again and again in your head. Each replay turning the memory into something worse than the original.

Eventually you plucked yourself out of bed, deciding to face the problem head on and talk to the friend that invited you both to their birthday in the first place.

She met you at a café downtown during her lunch break. It was obvious by your red rimed eyes and sniffling nose that you had been crying but she was nice enough to ignore it for the most part. You caught up on her life for a little while until you physically couldn’t hold back anymore.

You told her exactly what had happened between you and JK, watching as her expression got both more understanding and pitying as you got closer to the end. Whatever you thought she was going to tell you was no where close to the story you got. You sat mouth wide open as she told you about the accident, and the way it affected Jungkook. It made you want to cry all over again. You didn’t know what to say once she had finished, stewing in your own thoughts for a while. The main thought that kept coming to the front of your mind was one that made you feel so evil. But you had to get it out

“What if she wasn’t really his soulmate. What if he was never meant for her” Its barely above a whisper but your friend heard it.

“He truly believes that she was” She replied squinting at you. Her break ended shortly after that leaving you alone with your thoughts.

…

It’s almost a month later when you see Jungkook again. Hadn’t heard a single thing from him since the concert but at least you knew why.

This time it was someone pool party. You honestly hadn’t been expecting to see him there. Didn’t even know you had mutual friends past that one girl. You didn’t think twice about your birthmark when you stripped down to your two piece. Why would you? Everyone has one. You were lay out on a sun-lounger with a drink when you spotted him. Tucked away in a corner once again, the only difference this time was his attention was already on you. He looked as good as ever, hair damp and slicked back, Long-sleeved neoprene shit covering his torso but trunks showing off his amazing thighs. You’d forced yourself to look away form him but could still feel the intensity of his gaze on you.

Eventually you couldn’t take it anymore, too hot under the sun and his stare you decided to change out of your swimsuit into a sundress for the evening. Heading inside you found your way into someone’s bedroom to get changed. Perhaps you should’ve checked to see if the door the locked though, because just as you had wiggled out of the bikini top Jungkook burst into the room.

“Ah shit… Sorry… I um.” His hand had flown in front of his eyes as he’d slammed the door shut behind him and you’d immediately reached for the flimsy dress pulling it over you torso so he could reopen his eyes.

“What in the actual fuck Jungkook?” you whisper screamed not wanting to draw attention to the two of you hidden away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t think… I just needed to see…”

“See what?! My boobs? I think you managed that one perv. You haven’t spoken to me in weeks and now all of a sudden you can’t wait long enough to knock.” You came across a lot meaner than you had meant, you just hadn’t been prepared for him to want to speak to you again.

“No I’m sorry I’ll go, this was a bad idea, I was probably seeing things anyway.” He mumbled looking sheepishly at the floor/

“No wait it’s okay, I really want to apologise don’t leave.” You took a deep breath and waited for his eyes to meet yours properly. When they did you could see the shock behind them.

“Why do you need to apologise? I’m the one that ran off, I never even told you why and I fucked up and I’m sorry I just…” You reached for him then, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and then realised it wasn’t your place, arm dropping heavily back to your side. “I felt so guilty with you, not because of you, because of me.” You nodded in understanding.

“I found about your soulmate after I confessed to you. I’m so sorry I didn’t know. I never would’ve brought it up if I had known you had already found yours.” You’d broken eye contact with him then unable to watch the sadness in his eyes and not be able to do anything about it.

“That’s why I felt so guilty though because the way I feel about you is so similar to the way I felt about her, how I still feel about her deep down. I was so confused because you’re only supposed to get one soulmate, and if I could feel the same way about you in such a short time… it just feels like I’m betraying her by loving you.” He stepped forward reaching for your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. “The today when I saw your birthmark on your thigh I could’ve cried.” He uses his free hand to unzip the shirt he’d been wearing. He pulled his left arm from the sleeve exposing his birthmark to you. A puzzle piece to fit perfectly into your own.

You’d gasped at the revelation you were right. He was meant to be yours. And yet it didn’t feel right. The anguish on his face was clear, the internal fight he had obviously been having with himself ever since the concert.

“Letting yourself love me now doesn’t mean you loved her any less” you whispered, allowing yourself to move even closer to him, wrapping him in your arms. He’d nuzzled into your neck allowing tears to stream down his cheeks and onto your shoulder. You’d felt every bit of stress leave his body as he cried. Emotions he hadn’t even know he had been holding onto, finally letting himself really breath since he had lost her all those years ago.

You’d lost track of the time, just stood with him, holding him until the final few sniffles came. His cheeks had been puffy by and red when he pulled away, wiping his face on the sleeve still on his right arm.

“Do you want to leave? We can go back to mine” You’d asked carefully, not willing to let him go home alone after feeling like that. He’d nodded weakly, sliding his arm back into the shirt before taking your hand in his. You’d headed for the door only to be brought back by the hand he had on yours. He’d pulled you so close you could see the flecks of gold in his irises, watched your reaction before leaning in and kissing you. It was salty with left over tears, but you wouldn’t change you first kiss for the world. Everything felt like it clicked into place in that moment, the world tilted on its axis. The exchange was short lived, a chaste peck followed by a few smaller pecks before he let you lead him all the way home.

Masterlist

#JJK #Jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook soulmate #jeon jungkook #jungkook soulmate au

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moonchildsaurora · 4 years

Text

Garden of Words

✤ prince/king!Yunho x tailor!reader ✤ genre: Prince AU // angst, fluff ✤ t/w: sfw, lots of bittersweetness, rated PG ✤ count: 3.5k+ ✤ [ part 2 ] of Lacuna miniseries

a/n - look, when I was writing my plan out for this, my notes only centered around the garden scene. . .and here we are 3000+ words later hahahaaaaaa, this is what happens when the mind goes “what if” and gets invested in the before/after rather than just the now 😔 one day I’ll be able to write shorter, sweeter pieces but today isn’t the day. I’d like to whole-heartedly thank anyone who reads through this entire piece, for your time and hopefully it was worth it. Also I’ve decided to have a little bit of fun with subtly featuring other members in each others’ mini stories, so see if y’all can spot who the next character we’ll be visiting next! 💙 P.S. paragraphs in all italics are flashback scenes!

“Excuse me, are you the fae of the garden?”

The watering can of butterscotch shade in your hands tilted back to pause in the sprinkling of water droplets on the freshly bloomed red gardenias. Turning around, you found the source of the small tinkling voice.

“Good morning Young Prince,” you greeted him, setting the watering can down on a nearby bench before making your way over. Sunlight shone abundantly down on the Royal Glasshouse, some areas where the stained-glass windows stood were bathed in colourful hues. Where the light hit your peachy robe made of georgette-silk gave an ethereal glow to your figure.

The Young Prince looked at you with wonder as you bent down to his level before speaking to him again, “and how did you manage to find your way here, little one?” You recognised the mahogany velvet capelet that wrapped around his form; after all, just two weeks ago were you tirelessly hand-sewing those dainty pearls that left a trail of constellations across the velvet surface.

“Hmm…I followed the pretty blue butterflies!” the Young Prince excitedly pointed to where several of them were fluttering over the yellow hibiscuses. Of course he would, he is the King’s son after all and his smile was perfect proof of that too.

Your eyes soften and the sides of our lips tilted further up, “Well they definitely have led you to a special spot haven’t they?”

“Please don’t tell anyone!” the Young Prince turned to look behind him quickly, as if to check if the coast was clear before taking a few shy steps closer to you. He brought up his little hands to cup them around his mouth and anticipating that he was going to whisper, you leaned in with a listening ear.

“I’m not supposed to come here on my own but Father brings me here sometimes and always tells me that the flowers here are most happy because of the fae who cares for them. I wanted to meet the fae because they never are around when Father and I are here.”

With great effort you suppressed the giggles that threatened to spill out, not wanting the Young Prince to think that you were laughing at him but rather at how adorable of a pout he formed by the end of whispering his little secret to you.

“Who told you that you couldn’t come here by yourself?”

“Everyone says that this glasshouse is Father’s most favourite and no one should come in without him saying ok. Even Mother doesn’t come here.”

Now it was all starting to make more sense to you, trust him to give you a title like fae of the garden. Letting out a gentle sigh, you gave the Young Prince a reassuring smile and held out your pinky.

“I promise not to tell, if you don’t.”

His eyes sparkled immediately as his little pinky was quick to curl around yours, “Oh thank you great fae!”

The soft spot in your heart grew once more.

“Would you like to see what fresh blooms will greet us today, Young Prince?”

The initial shyness he had melted away and the eager tug on your hands with a delighted laugh was a clear answer to your question. You let him lead you down the cobblestone pathway, patiently answering his questions whenever he’d point out flowers to you along the walk.

“Ah! Father’s favourite flower!”

The both of you slowed to a stop where the sea of multi-coloured freesias clustered, like a protective circle, around the Juliet Rose bush. With glowing apricot coloured petals that looked tender to touch, the rose bush stood dignified in the middle. Oh, the amount of care and love that went in to growing these roses, it truly is the treasure of the Royal Glasshouse.

You could still feel the phantom prickles on your fingertips from when you’d accidentally catch on one of the thorns whilst pruning. But you also remembered the warm hands that used to encompass yours and those same hands fought many more thorns to build this piece of Eden just for you.

“Shall we get some to give to him later on?” you suggested, having swiftly gone round the corner to retrieve the pruning knife from the crate.

“Yes, yes! Oh but won’t our shoes get muddy going in there?”

“Your Father didn’t mind losing many good white trousers to the dirt when he used to tend to the garden.”

“Father did that?” gasped the Young Prince, his eyes locked on as you moved with practiced ease. Still unsure as to whether he should risk a scolding from his tutor later on, he stayed behind the pebble border.

You hummed in reply, tip-toeing to avoid disturbing the freesias to reach the rose bush. “He drove the palace tailors mad with the amount of buttons he’d lose…but it was all worth it in the end.”

Your hands cupped one of the larger roses, observing the intricate layers of petals within the heart of the bloom. Just like the layers of memories that stirred within you in that moment.

”Not again Your Highness!”

Shoving the tunic you had been sewing to fix up a rip at the seams to the side, you hurried over with a handkerchief towards the Crown Prince as he came out of the Royal Glasshouse. When he wasn’t attending his classes or royal duties, all free time was spent on the garden. The only rule was that no one but the Crown Prince was allowed inside.

“Blossom, we’ve talked about this. You know I’d prefer it if you used my name.”

“That’s the last thing you should be worrying about now! The Queen won’t be too thrilled to know that you–“

A snow white camellia was tucked behind your ear, distracting you to a pause. Your hand immediately reached up and your fingers were met with the morning dew still upon the petals.

“This is first of the few that have successfully bloomed.”

“You’re distracting me on purpose, Yunho!”

“Well it got you to say my name, did it not?” he laughed, crouching down slightly to allow you to help wipe some of the soil off his cheeks. Even as you continued to fret over his mess of a stained blouse that certainly will cause a ruckus over afternoon tea, Yunho looked at you with so much affection that it would’ve made the rest of the flowers blush.

“You are impossible,” with no real bite to your words.

“And yet you’ve stayed by me all this time.”

You weren’t just the child of the Queen’s personal seamstress, no, you were Yunho’s first real friend within the palace. He treasured the friendship, for being with you meant Jeong Yunho could breathe freely.

The hallway had a woeful chill despite the midday sunlight streaming through the arched windows. Perhaps it was reflecting your current state of mind, your feet scurrying with haste to carry you to the safety of your chambers. Only behind closed doors did you allow your walls to crumble.

“It’s settled then, we shall entrust you with the task of creating the wedding gown. After all your sewing skills are immaculate and the Princess herself personally requested for you.”

Your mind kept replaying the announcement, echoes taunting the reality right in your face. Extremely confused at the absence of feeling on top of the world that you’ve been tasked with such a prestigious request nor were you jumping with joy knowing that Aethevintis and Cilon were officiating a strong alliance through a royal engagement.

“Every tailor in the kingdom would’ve killed for this job! Soon you’ll be making a name for yourself!”

The palace staff showered words of encouragement and your mother couldn’t be any prouder…

...yet it did nothing to ease the piercing cold emptiness that invaded your shattered heart.

“Blossom that would be considered as assault against the Crown Prince.”

You threw an unamused look his way, right after you had nearly kneed Yunho in the face when he effortlessly hitched you over his shoulders. Without so much as giving you a valid explanation as to why he arrived unannounced at the tailors’ room, only to whisk you away from your half-sewn bodice.

“Some of us need to work, Yunho!”

“You’ve been working a fair bit lately, I simply miss spending time with you.”

Now that you have actually acknowledged your feelings towards him, you couldn’t afford to let such words feed the false hope; not when you knew there will be an inevitable split in your pathways. You had been purposely avoiding him since preparations for the Engagement Ball have started, under the guise that you needed complete focus on your commission. It numbed the hurt inside temporarily, but you couldn’t deny that you’ve missed him.

Terribly so.

“Where exactly are you taking us?”

Scrunching your nose slightly at the smell of hay and heavy worn leather upon entering the stables, you noticed the saddle was already on Yunho’s Friesian stallion. Had he planned this beforehand?

“On an adventure!”

Of course, Yunho may have forgotten to notify you that he was supposed to be at a council meeting at that moment instead of bolting out of the stables like your lives depended on it.

He needed to breathe again and you decided to run with him for once, rather than away. The faint shouts of his name could be heard in the distance but consequences be damned if it meant seeing his radiant smile be set free and feeling the steadiness of your entwined hands.

“Watch your step.”

For whatever reason you couldn’t fathom, that Yunho somehow managed to sneak away from his own Engagement Ball without getting noticed and now was guiding you through an alternate and poorly-lit route towards the garden. Had it not been for his insistence that this matter was of great importance, you would’ve dragged him back in to the Grand Hall yourself.

Not even daring to think about the implications of his future wife being left, having to wait inside and what should happen if any of the guests or palace staff saw you with the Crown Prince in this questionable state?

“I’ve already talked to Captain Song and requested for his guard unit to ensure this area is kept clear for tonight, so you needn’t worry.”

His warm hand that held onto yours gave a reassuring squeeze, dampening your anxiousness just a little. You ended up facing the entrance to the Royal Glasshouse, the window panes were crystal clear in the dark that you could see the stars that hung above in the night sky in the reflection. Admittedly this place hadn’t graced your mind in months and you immediately felt disappointment towards yourself for not checking in with Yunho over time about his progress.

As you were about to speak, your vision suddenly goes pitch black.

“Hope you don’t mind but it’s a surprise,” Yunho whispered softly and only then did you realise that those were his hands covering your eyes. Wordlessly you nodded and allowed him to lead you in, an array of floral scents hitting your senses almost immediately, indicating that you both have made it well in to the glasshouse.

Something brushed against the top of your head unexpectedly and you flinched back, hitting Yunho’s solid chest.

“It’s ok, it’s just the blue jade vines. I’ve got you.” You wished your heart would stop fluttering as you felt him shuffle around you.

“Had it been anything else, I would’ve been right out the door and never stepping foot in here again,” you murmured.

You heard Yunho’s low chuckling before, “And leave me behind? That’s harsh. Who would I ever share this with then?”

His hands lifted and you blinked a few times to settle the initial haziness. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the view; there were lanterns both hanging from the roof and ones scattered around to illuminate the interior with a soft glow, fireflies danced about unbothered and even with the vast amount of plants it wasn’t a suffocating space.

Taking tentative steps to look at some of the flowers up close, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Just when you thought Yunho couldn’t get any more incredible than he already is.

“Yunho, this is…you really did it! From which fairytale did you pull this garden out of? All of this is exquisitely stunning!” you said, gently running your hand over the pink and white baby’s breath bushes.

Unbeknownst to you, Yunho’s barely keeping himself together under his calm façade. His heart has been yearning to just go against all odds and take you away with him but that meant condemning you to a lifetime of hardship, in a world where tradition doesn’t take too kindly to change.

He would never do that to you.

If he couldn’t be free to love you openly, then he’d love you in all the ways that required unspoken words. He poured his time and love into creating something, untouched by others and solely from himself, that he could give to you.

Just like he already has with his heart.

So when you heard him call your name, rather than the usual term of endearment he’d use, it set off the butterflies in your stomach. He reached out for you and you met him halfway.

“Did you know these are my favourites? They’re still young but as they grow, you’ll see that they aren’t just ordinary roses. They’re called Juliet Rose.”

Yunho showed you around the garden, telling you of the different flowers and their meanings. Peruvian lilies for lasting bonds, bluebells for devotion, gladiolus for strength, chrysanthemums for happiness, carnations for faithfulness. You were so caught up with keeping track that you nearly missed what Yunho had said next.

“–for an undying love or you’re the only one…”

“What...did you say?”

A barely-there whisper as you choked the words out. The running water from the mini fountain in the lily pad pond was the only sound among the silence that stretched between you both. And then there was the feeling of dread again, that you needed to run. Far away. Now. “W-We should go, th– your future fiancée is wait–“

You barely made it past 4 steps before Yunho caught your wrist and this time, he wasn’t going to let go. He called your name again.

“Please look at me.”

Perhaps it was the desperation in his voice that got through to you, telling you that you’d deeply regret it if you were to leave. So you willed your heart to stay through the pain and to stay for Yunho. It wasn’t until you felt damp velvet against your cheeks that you realised it was from the tears that cascaded down from your eyes and soaked in to Yunho’s suit, for he held your shaking form close to him.

“I’m such a fool.”

“Well, I guess we’re both just fools very much in love then.”

And then it dawned on you.

This entire garden being Yunho’s vow to you, which made you cry even harder than if he would’ve just confessed out loud to you right from the start.

Your hands grasped onto his back, fisting the fabric as you buried yourself further in to him. Noting that he smelled of clementines on a cool breezy summer day, you ingrained that scent to your memory. Wishing upon all the stars above that time would stop and allow you both to just live in your little garden.

“And with your permission, could you allow this fool to be selfish for a while more?”

A light kiss to your forehead before your face was tilted up, sore tear-stained eyes meeting his matching ones. “You? Selfish? Impossible.” Keeping your voice soft, partially from not wanting to break the peaceful ambience as you clumsily wiped his tears away.

Yunho knows he already has been selfish especially with time, he can’t stop it but he can draw it out at least. And he’s selfish in wanting to take from you when he knows he cannot give back entirely. But if it’s once in this lifetime that he gets to have you before having to return to the cruel world of normality, then he will get on his knees to beg for your forgiveness for being selfish.

He pours out everything in to the searing kiss he places on your lips and whilst you never imagined your first kiss to be like this, at the very least you finally have closure. Swollen lips, rosy cheeks and warm hands that refused to part until the very last second. Words that you both have been meaning to tell each other over the years are woven into poetries.

The garden kept it all, kept your love safe and your hearts safer.

“Do they make you happy too?”

Just like that, you’re brought back to the present. “What gave it away little one?” you asked, glancing to smile at him before focusing on cutting off two large roses.

“You were making the same face at the roses as Father does when he’s happy…when he tells me about you and the garden,” replied the Young Prince with honesty. The blue butterflies from before came fluttering around the roses that you held in your hands, much like the ones that stirred inside you once more when you heard the words.

Some things never change, do they?

You started to take the thorns off the stems with the pruning knife before replying, “They do, and this is my happy place.” Once you deemed the stems were safe enough for the Young Prince to hold, you made your way back over to him. You knelt down and presented the roses to him, “What do you think?”

He cautiously took the flowers that dwarfed his small hands, peering in to the layers curiously and taking a whiff of the delicate scent. “They’re really pretty! I think Father will like them very much!”

“Shall we go look for a few more blooms? You can create your very own little bouquet.”

The Young Prince made little noises of excitement and rushed to hold on to your hand once more, continuing on the quest to pick more flowers. It wasn’t until awhile later when you were showing the Young Prince how to arrange the flowers he picked to tie them together, that you heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Father!”

If Yunho hadn’t already learnt how to harden his heart these past years, the scene before him would’ve surely made him cry with happiness. For a second he could pretend that this was real, that you were the one with the aquamarine diamond band around your finger and that he was coming to join his actual family for tea in the garden. His eyes never wavered from yours, even when his son came barrelling in to his legs waving his bouquet merrily in the air.

“Your Majesty,” you greeted with a formal bow, not missing how Yunho’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Father, I finally got to meet the great fae! We spent all morning finding these!”

Only when you subtly flicked your eyes down towards the child did Yunho respond, quickly reaching down to take the bouquet from his son’s outstretched hand and bringing him in for a hug too.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here, sneaking off from your tutor again,” amusement lacing Yunho’s tone, “and what an intriguing choice of flowers you’ve got there.”

Father and son both adorning mirrored grins on their faces, “they’re for you, do you like them? And I’m sorry for sneaking in here Father!” said the Young Prince, little brows furrowing slightly.

“Very much, thank you…the both of you. And it’s ok as long as skipping your lessons doesn’t become a habit,” said Yunho as he ruffled his son’s hair affectionately and drew his gaze back to you.

“Unfortunately we must take our leave now.”

“How come? Do we really have to go?” The Young Prince seem to have inherit the puppy-dog eyes from his father, putting on the best pout he could muster as he looked between the two of you. Yunho shook his head, bending down to pick his son up. “Remember Grandpa and Grandma are coming by for lunch? Your Mother even asked the cooks to prepare our favourite dessert,” as if attempting to appease him.

“But…I wanted to spend more time here!”

“You’re always welcome back here little one, if His Majesty is ok with that–”

“Of course, although I hope it won’t be too much trouble?”

You gave a gentle smile and eyes twinkling with mirth, “Considering he hasn’t lost more than two dozen buttons within the last two weeks nor requires daily stitch repairs, I’d say it won’t be too much trouble at all Your Majesty.” That drew out an apology and light laughter from Yunho.

You walked the King and the Young Prince back to the entrance of the Royal Glasshouse, and just before stepping out Yunho turned to you once more. “Have you stopped by the pond recently?” the random query puzzled you.

“I thought I saw something interesting growing there the other day.”

Please go.

Right after waving a goodbye to Yunho and his son, without a care of making it obvious you hurried to where the lily pads floated at. It wasn’t hard to miss the bundles of serene blues nestled in the damp soil near edge of the pond. As you got closer, the realisation of what those were made your heart soar and ache at the same time.

A couple of tears fell onto the sea of blue petals as you reached out to cradle them with your hands.

“As if I could ever forget…my beloved King,” you whispered to the forget-me-nots that silently delivered Yunho’s words for you—

This garden is forever yours and so is my love, always. Never forget that.

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foureyeswithanicesmile · 3 years

Text

You’re still the boy that I’d pick.

Some love for my blind bf Matt Murdock because I love him, Mentions of R@pe (you kill rapists), p3dophelia, violence and swearing.

Alluring. Those were the thoughts that preoccupied Matt Murdock’s mind when he first became acquainted with you. Even whilst he couldn’t see you, he new you were stunning. Perhaps it was the Musk and vanilla body spray you layered onto yourself everyday? Or the slower, laid back voice you kept.

However; Matt wasn’t the only person who perceived you as attractive, many men and women of Hell’s kitchen thought you were gorgeous. This was evident when you, Foggy, Karen and Matt went out to Josie’s; No matter how many times you went, the amount of people paying for your drink or asking for your number never faltered.

Whilst you preoccupied Murdock’s mind, somebody else did too. A new ‘ vigilante’ in town who actually went as far as to kill a good number of men. After investigating further, Matt managed to find out the reasoning for such bloody murders. This new ‘guardian’ of Hell’s kitchen killed rapist’s and pedophiles, in the most agonising ways possible.

What Matt also hadn’t realised was that the person doing such actions was the same person he found himself acquainted with almost everyday. The musk and vanilla scent may have gone away during your rendezvous, but your ragged breaths after long moments of fighting gave you away.

“ You’re going to defend the men I kill? You have not a single fucking right” Your voice finally echoed through your mask. Similar to Daredevil, you wore specially made detective gear- allowing him to question if you got it from Melvin Potter.

Matt didn’t want to defend the men you thought were detrimental to kill; but if you continued to murder in the way’s you did- you would’ve easily crossed the line between justice and revenge.

Your sentence was met with silence, the heaving of Matt’s chest signifying thought. He knew you. Perhaps not through any signature scent, but he most definitely knew you.

Before Matt could think about any possible identities, you lunged at him piercingly quick.

You wielded a mallet, instead it was almost comically large. The weight of it meant it could only be wielded by somebody slightly strong- and quick. With his heightened senses, he managed to catch the mallet before it smashed his skull open- him now fighting to keep it steady.

“ You work for Fisk?’ He struggled to ask, your mouth going almost agape through your mask at the sudden question. You managed to throw the man towards the floor with a hefty kick, now using the weight of your weapon to secure him onto the ground.

After stomping the shit out of his shins to the point it was a struggle to move, you raised your foot directly above his face; building the courage to smash it in.

“ Stay the fuck out of my business-Devilboy”.

That’s where he knew you.

You were the person who he found ordering coffee with.

And now here you were, ready to stomp his head in under your military boot.

“ It’s me-It’s me” Matt panted, now ripping the mask off him.

Almost immediately, you stopped. Removing your mallet from his torso and your positioned foot from above his face.

“ Matthew?” you breathlessly gasped, eyes wide and lips parted at the discovery. The melancholy mood now preoccupying the scene certainly mirrored the impending abyss that the dark of night contained.

“ Why would you do this to yourself?” He asks with clear audacity, the loud scoff escaping your lips only signifying your disbelief.

“ These men aren’t just. Don’t defend people I know you wouldn’t dare to.” You requested firmly, the words being directly pulled from Matt’s thoughts. These men did deserve hell, but you were no better by giving it to them in such ways.

“ Torturing and beating men to death isn’t just either. You know that.” He affirmed, now finally managing to get himself up from his position on the floor.

In an attempt to dismiss, he walks over to you, hand attempting to rest on your shoulder. Yet you refused, harshly hitting his hand away from you.

“ You don’t get to touch me. Not in this situation.”

“ So What can I do?” Matt asked, head slightly tilted in confusion.

“ You can leave me the hell alone- Like this never happened.” You now spoke coldly, completely contrasting the tone you used when accepting a compliment on the street- or thanking Josie for the shitty vodka she’d give you.

Matt didn’t want to loose you. Not to the concept and act of revenge.

“ I’m not working for fucking Fisk either- if that gets you out of my hair.” You finally affirmed, the surname almost disgusting you as it left your lips.

“ How do you find these men? You have the same routine day in and day out?” Matt wondered; If it had been anybody else, he would’ve knocked them out and called Brett- but this time, Matt was intrigued by your way of ‘ hunting’.

“ Child pornography tapes. You can hear em, so you visit every shitty brothel- club and bar you can find, until you finally find the fucker.” You announced almost menacingly, relaying any memory you had of luring men to you before murdering.

Matt’s silence only ushered you to attempt to explain.

“ They always go for younger prostitutes- barely legal ones. It’s fucking disgusting Matt.”

Your words only forced Matt to purse his lips together. Your reasonings weren’t unjust whatsoever, but your methods were almost too brutal to justify.

“ You have blood on your hands- blood not even bleach can get rid of.” Matt’s voice cried through the winter gust’s of air, a sigh escaping you afterwards.

“ But It’s not too late. Do what I do-“

You cut him off swiftly.

“ You fight the men you defend. We’re different.”

“ I throw the people who commit crimes into prison, not into graves.”

Your scoff once again became audible.

“ Is that before or after you beat them half to death? I do the job you’re too good to do.” You borderline spat. Matt wasn’t like you, but somehow you were like Matt. It was most likely the sense of taking justice into your own hands.

“ You’re killing yourself in the process. What If you get caught up in something bigger?” Matt spoke with determination, now walking towards you with no sense of aggression.

“ Like you and Fisk? I’m not getting myself caught into shit like that” You shrugged, now leaning against an apartment roof’s door. Matt slowly managed to put the pieces of you being the so called ‘ purifier’ of Hell’s Kitchen.

“ So all those times you came in with aching ribs?those men hurt you?” Matt wondered with concern, you only laughing at the thought of letting nothing but a grimy sex offender beating you up.

“ I jumped out of a burning building that time- burnt an entire brothel to the ground with nobody but freaks in it.”

Your words stung. Not personally, but the thought of you being so proud of your murderous ways completely contrasted your ‘ pretty person on the street’ demeanour you harboured on separate occasions.

“ You don’t mean that- those men were bad but-“

“ But what? They could’ve been taken down by the law? Is that what you think? These men were rich men. They don’t go down so easily Matt.” You spoke truthfully, Matt’s flashbacks of finding the man who killed his father with a fancy house and a new name now preoccupying him.

“ I don’t want to have to throw you in a jail cell, [name]” Matt sighs, now running a hand over his face.

“ So don’t. You decide what happens to me now Murdock” You finally concluded, face almost completely nonchalant for his warning.

“ You could help me. With Fisk with everything” Matt began to propose, his voice quickening when he observed your disinterested expression.

“ Matthew.” You sighed after a few moments, Matt’s body language almost conveying one of a sad puppy compared to your strong stance.

“ Get me killed and I’ll haunt you.”

Matt was joyed, the last thing he needed was you being used as an eventual pawn against him.

You on the other hand, you were conflicted. You were happy that Matt could confide in you especially since you thought of him to be quite attractive- but fighting against the borderline ruler of Hell’s Kitchen brings a lot of struggle.

Clearly, your concern elevated your heartbeat, as Matt now began replacing his hands on your shoulders to secure you.

“ Don’t be worried about this- that mallet could easily do enough damage to whatever we’re up against” Matt assured, your lips slightly raising at the corners.

“ But you can’t kill anybody” He announced, your melodramatic ‘ what?’ filling the cold air.

“ So what? We just knock em out and hope they don’t remember us?” You asked, not moving Matt’s hands from your arms.

“ Yes- exactly that” Matt began to smile as he listened to you ramble about how stupid he was, he thought you were the best thing to walk into his ‘regular’ life, but now knowing that you kept your ways even when wearing a mask and running around the city made you admirable. You were an unbreakable character- unlike what he thought himself to be.

“ That’s so stupid Matthew- I should kill you right here you know that? Hell you might come back with common sense and some sigh-“

Your sentence was muffled by a harsh kiss, Matt’s grip on your arms eventually softening after he noticed your reciprocation. Your hands made their way to his face, in which you held during the cramped, forceful kiss.

Matt’s hands eventually left your arms, now resting atop of your shoulders in order to release himself from your grasp.

When he had pulled away, he noticed how elevated your heartbeat was and by the sound of the quickened bone shifting as you breathed- he could only assume that you wanted a kiss for a while.

“ I’m gonna forget about this and I’m going to head home alright? Don’t wonder around for too long you have work tomorrow.” Matt began to dismiss, now heading back home- a smirk on his face as he noticed your lack of witty comments.

You liked being close to Matt Murdock. Even if you hadn’t shared the same views on the law.

AN: ive been away for ages, its been the first week of school and lord do i have a lot of homework, also im sorta loosing love for titans, the writings getting sloppy and the ships are almost too scattered to be followed

#daredevil #marvel ff #matt murdock #fanfiction

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invaderlynx · 4 years

Text

Booker and La Campagne de Russie

I just watched The Old Guard and honestly, it was one of the best movies I’ve seen in a VERY long time. Of course, now I’m having all sorts of thoughts about the whole thing and particularly about Booker because his backstory intersects perfectly with my historical interests. I know that all the immortals in The Old Guard have experienced all sorts of terrible trauma, but because I am a history major with an affinity for the Napoleonic period, especially the Russian Campaign (and because Booker is my favorite character), I’d like to give you guys an idea of just what sort of torture he faced even before the pain of losing his family (also for fair warning, I have not read the comics):

Please place yourself in Booker’s shoes. You are one of over 600,000 men mustered to march into Russia. You’re serving in an army you never wanted to join, taking up arms for the glory of an empire that’s never done anything for you. You’ve been separated from your three beloved sons and your wife whom you love more than life itself, and have been sent off to fight in a foreign land that’s nothing like the home you’ve left behind. That much becomes evident immediately.

The invasion starts in the summer of 1812 and it is hot, unseasonably hot. You feel it, laboring as you are under the thick heavy materials of your sweat-soaked uniform. Each step is its own torture in the heat as you struggle through mud left behind by hard summer rains. More than a few men kill themselves at this point and although this is just the beginning, you can hardly blame them. Some of your comrades get the bright idea to start discarding some of their extra layers of clothing—underthings and the like. Perhaps you join them, anything to lighten the load. You can’t be expected to carry all this over the long miles ahead. You’ll live to regret that decision.

The fighting itself is worse than the conditions. You never quite get used to the violence. No matter how many times you’re thrust into battle, your mouth still goes dry, your heart still thunders as loud as the military drums’ tattoo, you still choke on that thick gunpowder smoke. You nearly threw up the first time you killed with a bayonet. You remember sticking the man in between the ribs, a swift stab and he is bleeding out. It is only then that you see his face and realize just how young he is. He is a boy, maybe a few precious years older than your eldest. He cries as he falls. You didn’t speak Russian at the time but you didn’t need to to recognize the word “Мама”.

The only thing that makes it possible to keep putting one foot in front of the other (besides your family, of course) is your comrades-in-arms. Against all odds, you’ve found friendship here, men with whom you can share stories and jokes and drinks. You find a few men of around your own age with families, wives and children that they lovingly speak of, but many of these soldiers are young, young enough to be your sons, far too young to be out here slaughtering and being slaughtered. Over your meager meals you tell stories of home and it is enough to hold off the impending horror, at least for a moment. When that doesn’t work, you turn to drink. You drink an awful lot.

The conditions of this foreign land are mercurial at best and your woes are only compounded by your lack of proper supplies. The Russians have been scorching nearly everything in the wake of their retreat, making it difficult for you to forage for food. Your search parties turn up very little by way of provisions and your food supply continues to fall in tandem with the temperature.

Borodino is hell. You see the man to the right of you receive a cannonball to the chest and fall in a spray of red, you see the man to the left crumple as a shot rips through his handsome, hard-lined face. One of your friends, one of those boys that you’d come to regard as a surrogate son who was barely old enough to grow hair on his chin, catches a bullet in the leg. He dies in agony four days later, one of the thousands of casualties of that damned battle. In your lowest moments, you wish you would have joined him.

You were never a particularly happy man, even before the war. Prone to fits of melancholia, they would have said back then. Your darling wife and your three sons certainly helped to alleviate that heavy, aching emptiness that resided in your chest, but it never went away, not fully. It resurfaces with a vengeance now. Sitting with your gun in your hands and far too much liquor in your belly, you think about ending it all. How easy it would be to put a bullet in your brain and finally die. In the end, it’s your family that saves you again. You may not want to live for yourself, but for them- for them you can keep fighting. Besides, Moscow is only 70 miles away and once you take the ancient capital, Russia will have no choice but to surrender. That’s what everyone is saying and you force yourself to believe that it’s true.

Moscow was a lie. You took the capital but there was no peace. There was no food either. The Russians took it all when they abandoned the place, leaving almost nothing for your starving army. Nothing but liquor, which you are very grateful for at least. Your superiors probably aren’t, you think wryly as you raise the bottle to your lips and drink, drink, drink.

Moscow passes in a drunken haze for you. You drown yourself in Russian booze, drinking yourself absolutely insensate. There are entire days you spend propped up against the wall of some ramshackle Russian establishment, surrounded by empty bottles, too drunk to even stand. You remember bits and pieces, shattered memories drifting in and out of the fog. The looting and the things you took (a fine scarf, a silver flask, maybe more), a ladies’ fur shawl wrapped about your shoulders to keep out the chill, the burning heat of a terrible fire and the screams in French and Russian, the acrid taste of bile in your mouth as you splutter sick all over yourself only to raise the bottle to your lips again for another drink. In the end, you’re forced to leave Moscow as the position becomes untenable, the abandoned city burned to a shell of its former self. You never do learn who first started the fire, even years after the fact.

The retreat is hell on Earth, worse than anything else that came before. La Grande Armée is hardly an army any longer, you’ve lost practically all discipline. By now, you’re just a bunch of exhausted, cold, starving men who want nothing more than to just make it home alive. Most of them won’t. The temperatures have dropped to below freezing at this point and you are wishing more than anything that you still had those infernal layers that caused you so much pain in the summer months. The clothing you and your comrades drunkenly plundered in Moscow—silken scarves stolen from abandoned trunks, heavy furs pilfered from store inventories, ladies’ shoes that hurt your feet but do a better job of keeping out the slush than your tattered boots—help, but not enough. Your fingers stiffen to near icicles in the cold as you try your damnedest to massage even a little warmth back into them, your face is wind-chapped and scabbed. You feel as though your very marrow has frozen, and you are one of the lucky ones. Men freeze to death in their sleep in less than an hour. Fifty men will sit down at a fire and only the twenty or so closest will ever get back up again. You all begin to loot the bodies of the dead and—as you grow more desperate—the dying as well. Corpses are stripped naked and left in the snow as the survivors squabble over their threadbare uniform pieces. Sometimes the corpses still twitch and moan but you try to ignore that.

There’s no food either. In addition to freezing, you’re starving too. The lot of you fight and quarrel over moldy crusts of bread, and in some cases even kill each other for them. The more clever turn to other sources to fill their writhing, empty stomachs. Some eat their boots, but there isn’t much leather left in any case. Some carve their meals off the horses as they walk, tearing bits of bleeding flesh off of the warm, moving flanks in a short-sighted attempt to get even a few morsels of meat in their bellies. Others, in mad desperation as the march (if you can even call it that any longer) wears on, turn to each other.

Perhaps you take part in this, perhaps you don’t. Perhaps you sidle a man out of the way to get closer to the fire, perhaps you take a coat off a corpse that you don’t know for sure is dead yet, perhaps you accept a piece of meat that you do not quite know the origin of. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

In the end it doesn’t matter. You die anyway. You don’t really remember how it happened the first time. Maybe you were finally picked off by the advancing Russians, maybe it was exposure, exhaustion, starvation, sickness, any of the hundred ways that you could die in this frozen wasteland. All you know is that one moment you were on your feet, shambling mutely forward, the next you were lying on the icy ground, gasping air back into lungs that had fallen completely still. Four faces are burned into your memory and from one you can still hear the gurgling, watery screams.

That’s when the dreams start, after that first death. Though, you wouldn’t classify them as dreams, they’re far more alike to nightmares. You see that screaming, drowning woman often. You feel her fear as she slams her body against her metal coffin. Even awake you can’t get the sound of her choking out of your head. Sometimes there are soft moments interspersed with the horror. You see a woman with short hair (it reminds you of a coiffure à la victime) laughing, you see two men resting in each others’ arms, foreheads pressed together gently, blissfully happy. To be quite honest, these ones hurt worst of all because they make you regret ever waking up.

You die a few more times before you finally decide to desert. You can’t take it anymore. That tyrant Bonaparte has abandoned this army, why can’t you? You take flight under the cold cover of night, trying to get to the Russian border. You don’t make it very far. You are dragged back—aching, tired, and hungry—and are hanged by the road as a deserter. Perhaps there still is a little discipline left in these ranks, at least enough to allow these soldiers to kill their comrades in the name of orders. You have to wait three days for the road to clear before you can finally run. In that time your body is almost entirely picked clean by looters. You continue your desperate trek back home in spite of it all and die many more times in the weeks (or was it months?) that follow. It never gets any easier.

It’s near the border into Prussia that you finally meet one of the figures from your dreams. Perhaps it is the woman with the short hair who offers you a drink and a coat to put around your shoulders, and tells you bluntly but not unkindly that you’re immortal. Perhaps it is the curly-haired man who helps hold you upright when you stumble and is careful and caring with his words as he gently explains the situation. Perhaps it is his lighter-haired lover who catches you when you fold in on yourself from the weight of his words and offers you affirmations and condolences in a voice reminiscent of a priest. Whoever it is, they ask you to come with them and explain that there are others like them- like you out there.

“What about my family?” you stutter out, almost unconscious of the words as the tumble from your mouth “My wife? What about them?”

They favor you with a sad smile and try to explain, but you will hear none of it. They do not stop you when you tell them that you are going home, and you are glad for it.

With the supplies they give to you, you manage to hobble your way back home. You’ve been taken for a dead man, you realize, everyone you pass seems to think you’re a ghost. You don’t care. You only have one person on your mind.

Your wife answers the door dressed in black. She starts to cry when she sees you and throws her arms around your neck. You nearly crumple, weak as you are. “Bastien, Bastien,” she sobs against your shoulder “What happened?”

That question fills you with icy dread. Your stomach drops as you realize you cannot explain to her what you’ve been through, not in a way that she’ll understand. Even if you explain the immortality and she believes you, she won’t understand the horrors you’ve seen. No one will. A soldier’s burden.

You stay silent and instead cradle her closer as your boys appear in the doorway. You have them and, for now, that is enough. You won’t forget, you will never forget, but for now at least you have this.

#there we go #i made myself sad #you see what this poor bastard had to go through #it does not excuse what he did #not in the slightest #but it explains why he wants to die at least #there are very few things that i would want to go through less than the russian campagne #the old guard #tog #sebastien le livre #booker #andromache the scythian #yusef al kaysani #niccolo di genova #quynh

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chenqingssuibian · 3 years

Note

Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian for the ask meme

two-for-one special, huh?

from this post!

How I feel about this character:

Jiang Yanli: ULTIMATE EXAMPLE OF CHARACTERS WHO DESERVED BETTER. Jiang Yanli is everything. She is the it girl. She is my favorite female character except for MAYBE A-Qing. She makes me wish I had a big sister, y’all. God, I wish she had gotten to meet her son - like, actually meet him, and get to know him. (When she died, he was... what, a year old at most? Not MUCH personality there, gotta say.) I wish she had gotten to grow old, man. Jiang Yanli was born to be a grandma, and the fact that she never got to be. Is upsetting. My girl is artistic, she is smart, she is brave (standing up to Jin Zixun!!!! A man who is 100% stronger than her!!!!! From a much stronger and wealthier sect!!!!) and GOD is she kind. Yanli, my beloved <3

Wei Wuxian: He is the main character and he is the main character for a REASON. This man? A mess, through and through. He is also a genius and he will not let you forget it, nor will he let you forget how SEXY he is. Yes Wei Wuxian we know your ass is fat you don’t need to remind me. I love this freaky lil necromancer. So sexy of him to invent that. He doesn’t have a SINGLE uncomplicated relationship, no, that’s too easy. He doesn’t even get to have a simple relationship with A-Yuan, because of course he doesn’t. Wei Wuxian is a flawed man who has committed atrocities and kindnesses in turn. He is simultaneously a grave robber who desecrates corpses on the regular, and ALSO the kind of dude who will attempt (and succeed) to resurrect a guy who he barely knows, even though it seems hopeless, because he is duty-bound. He takes his debt to the Wen siblings so, so seriously, he takes so much so seriously and that is why he doesn’t put effort into, for example, naming his weapons, or other bullshit. He has priorities, man. I love him.

Romantic Ships:

Jiang Yanli: I’m a slut for xuanli, my token straight ship. Half of it is because I just really love Jin Ling, and if they weren’t a thing... he wouldn’t be either. But ALSO: Jin Zixuan resents her not because she’s her, but because he is being forced to marry her. Once that pressure is pulled off (though honestly? Not completely, because let’s be real - Madame Jin was probably pushing for that marriage all through Sunshot) and he gets the chance to... actually get to know her? He falls in love, y’all. I like to think Jiang Yanli, softhearted as she is, made him work to woo her as much as she was able. Gotta put effort into Jiang Yanli, Zixuan, it’s what she DESERVES! Other than them, yanqing is very good! I read some fics where she married Lan Xichen, which was lovely, and then there’s that series where she gets married to Jin Guangyao instead of Zixuan (though I can’t remember the name of it, rip.) There are very many options, for Yanli, and all of them good. give her a harem

Wei Wuxian: Wangxian goes without saying - they’re the core of the series, after all, if I didn’t like them at least a little... there wouldn’t be a point in me running a blog for this series, would there? Ningxian, unrequited or otherwise, is also very sexy. Wangningxian, too, and, as mentioned in the ask about Lan Xichen, I am into xixian! Xiaoxian also slaps - I’ve written a blurb for them, and plan on expanding it into something larger... at some point. Also, there are some really great (though DEFINITELY not for the light-hearted) xuexian fics out there, if you’re interested.

Non-Romantic Ships/BroTPS:

Jiang Yanli: Yanli and her brothers, Yanli and Wen Ning, Yanli and Everyone, Basically. Everyone should be friends with Jiang Yanli. She is very friend-shaped, and honestly? If everyone was her friend, a lot of shit would’ve gone down better.

Wei Wuxian: I think the dynamic between Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli is just. So fuckin’ delicious. There are layers of love and devotion and propriety and conflicts of all of those things and GOD. I love them. I also thing Wei Wuxian should’ve been a menace as a child on the streets with Xue Yang. I would’ve liked to see it. Nie Huaisang is also a Very Good Bro, who I love him with immensely (and also think he should kiss a little bit)

Unpopular Opinion:

Jiang Yanli: Not to NSFW, but a lot of y’all seem to think she’s the kinkiest bitch on the block, and honestly? I don’t see it. I think her favorite position is missionary. I am so sorry to the pegging stans I just don’t think she has the core strength to make that good.

Wei Wuxian: HE. IS. MORALLY. GRAY. AT. BEST. Particularly during Sunshot and the immediate aftermath, but honestly, Wei Wuxian is not the liberator of the people, or something. He is a very talented man who, when he feels it is the right thing to do, will do anything - and what is right can be subjective and situational. He’s his own villain in a lot of ways, and the villain of many other people’s stories. Honestly, I can’t blame people for being afraid of him, or trying to put limits on what he can do - unchecked power is always bad. Always. Even when someone I like has it.

What I wish would happen/had happened in canon:

Jiang Yanli: Uh. I wish she had fucking LIVED? I get WHY she had to die, so Jin Ling could... be Jin Ling, and Jiang Cheng would finally have something he really, truly couldn’t forgive Wei Wuxian for. I get that her death is the final nail in his coffin, or whatever. But seeing her simply get INJURED for him would’ve been enough, I think? I don’t think she needed to die, is what I’m saying, and I think MDZS could’ve been even more interesting, narratively speaking, if she hadn’t. Then again, I’m a Xuan Lu simp, so it is possible I simply wish we had had More Of Her.

Wei Wuxian: Therapy, as always. Otherwise, he’s pretty much got it made? Man came back from the dead, got some old friends back, solved a mystery, found out his sort-of son he raised in a graveyard for a while wasn’t dead at all, and then got married to the love of his life. He’s good on that front. Reconciliation with Jiang Cheng is really all I want, past that.

#ask game #anon #wei wuxian #jiang yanli #so many opinions.... SO MANY OPINIONS #do you enjoy this glimpse into my mind prison? hmm?

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funkyhanji · 3 years

Text

Nuvole Bianche [English | BNHA]

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia (@Horikoshi Kohei) Character(s): Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku Pairing(s): BakuDeku Rating: E Word count: 3298 CWs: Fantasy AU, Established Relationship, Snowed In, Fluff and Smut, Sex, Quirks as Magic, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Barebacking, Dorks in Love, Bottom Izuku

Summary: - «Can't help it, Deku,» Katsuki says. There's the hint of a teasing tone in his voice, as if to prove the statement. «You're stupidly cute.» His spouse-to-be blushes yet his lips give way to the small grin he'd been fighting back. «… And you're stupidly handsome, Kacchan,» he whispers like it's a secret he's kept hidden all this time. -

Katsuki wills a shiver down as he steps past the cave's open entrance, tracking snow at his heels. The magic barrier they put up is thankfully holding steady to keep the cold outside; it's a flimsy solace though. His boots, socks and heavy breeches are completely soaked through; his double wool-lined, crimson cloak drags at his shoulders with the added weight of melting water. His hair sags, the blond spikes limp and frosted over.

He fucking hates winter.

He throws a glare at the inky darkness that's crept upon the mountainside in the last hour; it's barely sunset, technically, but it might as well be the dead of night already with how pitch black the world outside is. If only the weather hadn't gotten so bad so quickly, they would've been home by now. In front of a nice hearth — but alas, after so many months away from Musutafu, it seems Katsuki had forgotten how swiftly a cold but pleasant winter day could turn into a nightmarish snowstorm.

Why did we even decide to come up here?! Katsuki gripes internally, fumbling to take off his frozen leather gloves with numb hands. Right. To get away from annoying people.

He shouldn't have sent Zero up ahead to the castle in favor of hiking back down the mountain by foot. He sighs, curses as his grip on the gloves slips. Then again, the cave isn't big enough for a full grown dragon and two people, so maybe it's better this way.

A faint giggle reaches his ears, compelling Katsuki to look up and pause his struggle.

Green eyes, bright with flames gently dancing in their depths, meet his from across the stone floor. Izuku's covering his mouth with his fist, but Katsuki knows he's smiling by the way his cheeks are raised. The smattering of freckles decorating Izuku's face appear and disappear with the flickering of the fire, almost as if they're playing hide and seek — they'd never win: Katsuki has memorized each and every one —.

«How's it looking out there, Kacchan?» Izuku asks, lowering his hand so Katsuki can see the curve of his lips. He waves Katsuki over; a silent offer to help him remove his uncomfortable gear. «The wind is really strong. I can hear it through the barrier...»

Katsuki scoffs. «No shit,» he says, nearing the fire. «A gust of that motherfucking wind almost threw me off the cliff-side.» Izuku gasps, immediately launching into a worried rant; wide-eyed stare flying over Katsuki's form for any possible injury. «'M fine, Deku. Takes more than this to do me in.»

«Oh, I know, Kacchan,» Izuku laughs, at ease when Katsuki smirks his way.

Katsuki takes a seat next to Izuku, their shoulders and knees brushing as they stare into the flames in silence for a heartbeat. Then Izuku shifts, reaching out to take a hold of his hands and carefully pulling on the iced-over gloves. Katsuki turns to face him, letting the other slip the leather off one finger at a time, ever-so mindful of not using too much strength, as though Katsuki would care if he ripped the gloves.

«Whatever,» he mutters under his breath. He doesn't miss the grin on Izuku's face at that. «And the snow blocked the pass, so we're stuck in here 'till tomorrow anyway.»

«That's too bad.» Izuku looks up at him after removing the gloves and placing them near the fire to defrost. «Everyone was so excited about the pre-wedding feast! We're going to miss it...»

«That was the whole point of hiking the mountain, Deku.»

«Oh, come on, Kacchan! They're here for us, you know…!»

Katsuki rolls his eyes, idly rubbing his stiff hands together to rid them of the chill. «Doesn't mean I have to suffer through it-» he flexes his fingers, cringing when his knuckles pop with a loud crack- «not tonight at least. Tomorrow I'll have no goddamn choice.»

Wordlessly, Izuku grasps his left hand in his. He caresses his thumbs along the cold skin, slow and meticulous. He kneads the pads of his fingers into Katsuki's palm, then moves to Katsuki's own digits, massaging them from knuckle to nail; he does it once, twice, three times, over and over, until the numbness is replaced by pins and needles. Until feeling returns and Katsuki's hand is warm again. Izuku repeats the same process with his right hand.

«How's that? Better?» Izuku asks with a smile which looks even softer than usual. It makes Katsuki's heart speed up.

With the regained sensitivity, Katsuki switches now to grasp the wrist of his consort-to-be, tugging him forward. The surprised sound Izuku makes is cut off as their mouths meet in a kiss; the touch is firm but chaste, purely motivated by a simple need, a subconscious call resonating deep within Katsuki's bones telling him to be closer to Izuku. He feels a hand glide up his other arm, up, up to his neck and his jaw before it buries itself into his hair.

Or tries to.

Green eyes blink open, and in the next second Izuku's pulling back with a crease between his brows. His hand flexes a little, where it rests near Katsuki's ear, and a faint crunching can be heard coming from the hair.

«Storm froze it,» Katsuki supplies with a shrug.

«Oh...»

Izuku takes a better look at him then.

Katsuki can see that attentive gaze picking up on the slight tremble in his frame; the hunch to his shoulders and the way he's leaning toward the fire more than he would usually do — with Katsuki's temperature always running higher than most people's due to his fire-related magic, he's not one to crowd in front of direct heat sources —. He can see the furrow deepen when shining emeralds take notice of the layer of frost whitening and weighing down his clothes.

«Oh, Kacchan, sorry!» Izuku says, now concerned. Katsuki's about to retort that he's fine, but the other keeps going. «You walked around in the snow longer than me, you must be freezing! And here I was, warming up in front of the fire…! I should've went with you after all... we need to, ah, get you out of these icy clothes! Yeah!»

Izuku is fussing over Katsuki as soon as he stops talking.

He makes quick work of taking off the soaked boots and socks, placing them behind him in front of the fire pit. He hovers in Katsuki's personal space, un-clasping his cloak and sliding it off, casting a spell to have it float near the flames to dry — it's a simple incantation he'd been taught by his friend, Ochako, a gravity-specialized mage —. Izuku's scarred hands move from Katsuki's shoulders to his arms, struggling to tug the stiff leather braces down. He almost falls back on his ass when the first one dislodges from his elbow; the squeak he makes too endearing for Katsuki to repress a chuckle.

«Mean,» Izuku mutters, retaking his previous position just within the circle of Katsuki's legs.

There's a wee frown wrinkling his dark green eyebrows.

Katsuki lets Izuku take off his heavy woolen shirt, complying to the silent request to lift his arms. He waits for the other to lay it down on the stone next to the boots; he waits for Izuku to face him again. He's stubbornly trying to keep up his upset demeanor, but it's obvious he's failing from the twitch in the corner of his mouth.

«Can't help it, Deku,» Katsuki says. There's the hint of a teasing tone in his voice, as if to prove the statement. «You're stupidly cute.»

His spouse-to-be blushes yet his lips give way to the small grin he'd been fighting back. «… And you're stupidly handsome, Kacchan,» he whispers like it's a secret he's kept hidden all this time.

Katsuki finds warmth creeping onto his ears and high cheekbones. He's by no means unused to such compliments — he's been showered in praise since a young age, whether he worked hard to deserve it or not —, though he's discovered, with the passing of the years, that receiving them from Izuku never stopped his stomach from somersaulting.

He wonders if the Paladin-in-training is aware of the effect he has on him.

Izuku's palm comes to rest on his chest, above his heart, and Katsuki thinks, maybe he does know.

There's a certain reverence in the way Izuku brushes his hand over his skin, in the way he leans forward to place a kiss in that same spot. Soft, gentle. Katsuki pretends for a moment that the shiver running up his spine is the cold seeped into his limbs from his soaked clothes.

He blinks, and it feels like he's five again.

The first time he lay eyes on Izuku, his whole world had tilted on its axis the second those forest-green irises met his, full of wonder and awe. Katsuki remembers the wide-eyed stare and the cautious steps the shorter boy had taken, getting closer to him with a trembling hand extended toward his newly-pierced ears.

«Do they hurt…?» Izuku had asked, not quite touching him but hovering near one of the ruby studs.

Katsuki had been taken aback by the ethereal beauty of the creature before him; had been rendered speechless, forgetting every lecture on etiquette his parents had been trying to drill into his skull.

He'd shaken his head, grumbling. «Of course not, stupid! I'm the future King, this 's nothin'!»

Izuku had «oooh»ed and smiled, bright and full of admiration. «You're really amazing!» he'd said, cheeks flushed. «I'm Izuku! My mom and I will be living here from now on, I hope we'll be friends!»

Katsuki blinks again, coming back to the present to Izuku moving to press a peck a little higher—his green curls tickling Katsuki's chin—and higher still, one over his jaw, one below his ear.

«Kacchan,» he whispers, no more than a breath exhaled by unconscious reflex. «Kacchan.»

He doesn't have to repeat it a third time.

Katsuki's cups Izuku's face in his hands, brushes their noses together, their lips. The contact is lighter than before yet the sparks it creates are stronger, the intent behind it clear. He bridges the non-existent gap a second time, their mouths parting at the same time; tongues sliding together, slow and passionate, the kiss gaining a more intense quality.

The heat between them gradually growing with it.

Katsuki's free arm wraps around Izuku's waist, bringing him flush to his body. His palm skims the warm skin under his consort-to-be's shirt, settling at the hip and starting up a leisurely rocking. Izuku gasps into his mouth, a short moan breathed in and licked up by Katsuki's tongue. Green eyes crack open a slit to stare into crimson ones, the embers of desire coming to life inside both of them.

«Deku,» Katsuki grunts, husky and hungry.

Izuku racks his blunt nails over his nipples, breaking the kiss to bow his head and run his tongue over them, one at a time; he nips and suckles at them, teases the hardened nubs with his teeth. Izuku spurs himself on with his own whines. His hands squeeze and grope Katsuki's biceps, his shoulders, his nape; they successfully bury in blond hair. Izuku's neck bares for Katsuki — a clear invite to claim —, his jugular jumping with the wild rhythm of his heartbeat under Katsuki's kiss-swollen lips. Izuku's sighs reverberating deep within his bones as Katsuki licks a wet strip up the unblemished skin to his ears.

Izuku's hips jerk sharply when he bites the lobe, the movement slotting their erections together just right, both groaning at the friction. The flimsy barrier of their undergarments and breeches doing little to hide the growing need between them.

«Wanna fuck you so bad, Deku,» Katsuki says, voice gravely and fingers digging into the meat of his consort-to-be's rear. He knows they can't; not right now, without the necessary equipment. It doesn't stop him from craving though. «Wanna feel you around my cock.»

«Yes, Kacchan,» Izuku answers. He arches against his broader chest, his scarred hands quiver slightly as they snake down Katsuki's stomach, fumbling blindingly to undo the belt and string of the damp cotton bottoms. «Please.»

Katsuki's about to tell him it won't be doable tonight, then he notices Izuku gesturing vaguely, feels the faint hum of his innate magic at work. From the corner of his vision, he sees a small terracotta vase teetering in the air toward them. A blond eyebrow quirks in question; his stare lifts from where he's been busy playfully gnawing at a collarbone, until it meets Izuku's blushing face and hazy eyes.

He laughs, delighted and cocky.

«Someone was expecting something ta happen tonight, mh?» he teases, slapping an ass-cheek and enjoying the squeak he gets in return. «Didn't look too sad to be snowed-in-» he snatches the pot before Izuku's control slips and makes it crash on the stone floor- «this why?»

Izuku mumbles, embarrassed and unintelligible.

«Hey, I'm not complaining Deku,» Katsuki reassures, planting a chaste kiss on the other's pouting lips.

«Kacchan, please...»

«Yeah...»

Together, they shift, raising on their knees so both Katsuki's breeches and Izuku's shirt can be discarded. Katsuki then guides Izuku backward, to lay onto the dried, forgotten, forest-green cape — a match to his own crimson one, the Bakugou family crest emblazoned on it in gold; a gift he'd given the other two years prior, when he'd officially proposed to him —. He takes care to cushion Izuku's head against the fur collar and crawls into his space.

He kisses him again, tongue slipping past willing lips to wetly glide alongside Izuku's own. Katsuki moves down the pliant body beneath him, nipping and sucking marks into creamy skin dotted with dark chocolate-brown freckles; tugging and flicking dusky-pink nipples.

Izuku's undergarments are slipped off with deft fingers while Katsuki distracts him with his mouth, blowing raspberries into his stomach and grinning as his breathless pants turn into breathless laughter. A shiver runs up Izuku's spine as the colder air hits his heated skin, and Katsuki's warm hands are there to chase it away. He smooths his palms down along toned legs as far as he can reach without moving from his spot, kneads his fingers into Izuku's thighs and sides, and up his torso.

Only when the bewitching body underneath him is quaking in need, does Katsuki finally pay attention to Izuku's cock. He's hard, flushed an inviting shade of dark pink and already leaking.

«Ya look delicious Deku,» he says, smirking as he lowers himself to lewdly lick a strip of saliva over the underside of Izuku's cock. One hand around the base, the other cupping his balls gently.

«Ka— Kacch… aahn…!»

Katsuki hums, lips enclosing the head, the tip of his tongue pressing into the slit and under the foreskin. He sucks lightly, pleased to hear the choked off gasp from Izuku. Katsuki swallows him down painstakingly slow, with almost-lazy bobs of his head and flicks of his tongue, barely-there strokes and caresses with his hands — he loves torturing the other like this, the sounds he can pry out of Izuku music to his ears —. He loves feeling him squirm and cry out.

Katsuki pulls off to take a breath, snatching the vase with the lotion in the meantime, popping the cork off and settling it next to them.

«H-hurry, Kacchan…» Izuku says, staring up at him with glazed eyes, the green overshadowed by dilated pupils.

Katsuki huffs, pretending to be irritated. «Impatient, are we?» He can't blame him though, his own dick is stiff and throbbing in his undergarments, longing to feel the other's heat surround him.

He dips two fingers into the pot; the transparent, viscous lotion coats his hand when he takes them out and spreads it over his palm. Soon after, he's teasing a circle around Izuku's entrance with a slick finger. Izuku whines, writhing on the cape as he tries to make the digit slip inside; when it does, he sighs such a delighted «yesss», it resounds even inside Katsuki's chest.

«Fuck, Izuku...» he groans, leaning in to sloppily kiss him while he works his finger deeper. «'S been a while, huh.»

«Yeah… ah!» Izuku nods, his hips rocking onto the hand between his thighs.

The wedding preparations have kept them both busy for the better part of last month — the constant ebb and flow of people coming in, to teach Izuku to dance; to choose decorations and food and music. Court meetings for foreign dignitaries, training —, leaving too little time and energy to enjoy their hard-earned intimacy with nothing but cuddling and simply sleeping together.

This snowstorm has been a nice opportunity to… catch up on that.

Katsuki is as quick yet thorough as he dares. Neither of them wants to cum without being connected, but they're also coiled too tight after so long; this round isn't going to last.

He's scissoring and spreading and curling three fingers inside Izuku for what feels like hours, rubbing grounding circles on his hip with his free hand. He kisses, sucks and nips at the expanse of skin at his disposal to add sensations at odd times. He brings Izuku to a dry orgasm; he's sobbing and quaking, straining to stroke his dripping cock but Katsuki restrains his wrists with his hand.

Only then does he take out his fingers.

«Ah… haa, Ka… Kacchan— shit, please— need you in-inside...»

Katsuki's answer is a low groan. His undergarments are tossed to the side hastily; he slicks up his cock, lotion mixing with his copious precum, and lines up to Izuku's ass. He drapes the other's legs around his waist, Izuku understanding the implicit prompt to link his ankles behind his back.

Katsuki pushes in, the glide easy and painless after the generous preparation and the slackness from Izuku's previous orgasm. He bottoms out with a rasping breath, his nerves aflame.

«F-fuck,» he stutters, biting his lower lip and scrunching eyes closed in concentration. «Won't last… long, De-Deku… Fuck— ya feel so good...»

«Y-you t-too Ka— nnh!— Kacchan!»

«Shit— 'm movin'...»

Katsuki takes a breath, bracing himself as he pulls out halfway before pressing back in. The pace he sets is swift; thrusts inelegant but precise, the angle good enough for him to brush Izuku's sweet spot just right. His hips snap back and forth. Izuku arches under him, meets his thrusts with his own wild ones, bucking onto the cock pounding into him with shudders and moans and calls of Katsuki's name.

The wet slap of skin on skin is loud and lewd, a perfect counterpoint to their mingled sounds and the crackling of the fire.

«S-shit— Izu… ku— nngh!»

Katsuki's movements falter. He throws his head back with a groan, eyes squeezed tight as he buries himself deep inside Izuku, filling him up spurt after spurt. In the haze of his climax, Katsuki languidly strokes Izuku to orgasm. He grins smugly through the rush of endorphin when the other cums without even trying to take matters into his own hand.

«Kacchan...» Izuku says a minute later, breath almost back to normal and snuggled into Katsuki's chest.

«Mmh?»

«You were really pent up, a lot came out… how am I going to clean up? We don't have enough water for a bath and-and you know it gets, uhm, uncomfortable to have se-semen up there for too long so— waah!»

Katsuki cuts him off by abruptly flipping him over, hands grabbing Izuku's sides and bending down to bite at a round ass cheek.

«I'll just eat my cum and your ass out then.»

«Wha— Kacchan, no! Wait a— ah!— Kacch… oh! Oh!»

Katsuki laughs a little meanly. «You're gonna walk up the throne room and get married with a fucking limp tomorrow, Deku— 'm gonna fuck you so good.»

#bakudeku #katsudeku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bnha #this was written for the bkdk secret santa 2018 #funkys fics

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kind-wolf · 3 years

Text

Kiss on a stick

Fandom: Rainbow Six Siege

Character: Dominic Brunsmeier

Genre: general

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: ~1650

Note: This is just a little something for my lovely friend @angelaiswriting 💗

Merry Christmas!

Even before reaching the common room, she could hear the Christmas music.

Usually she wouldn't mind someone trying to spread the holiday cheer for all the operators who would be spending Christmas on duty. And even those who don't celebrate Christmas, didn't seem to mind the music and the decorations. But she did.

Or more accurately, she minded ever since one particular colleague of hers, made it his mission to torment her.

Although torment might be a bit of a harsh description.

Dominic Brunsmeier wanted to be a little shit and use the general holiday spirit and especially one decorative item to steal a kiss from her.

The first time he smugly pointed at the mistletoe they were standing under, her quick combat reflexes helped her duck away before he could get a hold of her.

"Hey! That's cheating, " he had called after her, while her laugh echoed through the hallway as she ran away.

She should've known that he wouldn't let it go that easily.

That man had spent years upon years alone undercover. He knew how to play the long game.

So for the past 3 weeks, she never walked through a door without checking for the treacherous little sprig and the german operator who never seemed too far away from it.

She had even taken to carrying around a baton, so she could nudge the mistletoe off, whenever she encountered one.

It didn't seem to deter Dominic though.

He kept at it. Only grinning at her when he caught her destroying yet another trap. "I'll get you eventually Engelchen."

"In your dreams Brunsmeier," she had scoffed, even though she was sure he noticed the upwards twitch of her lips she failed to suppress.

Another memorable moment in their game had been when she tried to throw him off with the help of Alexsandr. Everybody had already caught on to the special cat-and-mouse game, so when she asked the Russian operator for help, he immediately agreed with a big grin on his face.

They walked to the common room together and just as expected, there was a mistletoe sneakily attached to the corner of the doorway, meaning Dominic wasn't far.

Alex gestured for her to go first. So she did. And just when her eyes met Dom's who was leaning against a couch, she felt Alex grab her wrist to pull her back. "Not so fast Милашка. I think I get a kiss."

She didn't tear her eyes away from Dominic until she saw them widen in realization.

She had to suppress a giggle, since Alex was already leaning down to her height.

Just as he planted a firm kiss on her lips, she heard the German in the background complain "That's not fair! That's my kiss."

When Alex released her, she was ready to reply, but the Russian beat her to it with a laugh in his voice. "I didn't know you wanted a kiss from me so badly. But don't worry. I got plenty to give."

"Fuck you, " came instantly from Dominic, who was grinning nonetheless.

Their game went on until there weren't many days left until Christmas.

And she could tell he was getting desperate, for the mistletoe now also appeared in random places like the stairwell or the inside of the kitchen cabinets. One was even placed so high above her locker that she had to get a ladder to get it off.

Despite the music playing, the common room was empty. Suspicious.

She made sure it was really empty by immediately checking every corner and possible hiding place, just like she would in a combat situation.

But then the arm around her waist and the whispered "Got you" made her stiffen.

Damn that sneaky bastard!

She knew it was Dominic. It was hard to admit, but she had grown accustomed to the smell of him, to the sound of his voice, his barely noticeable accent, his presence in her daily life.

The hold on her waist was strong enough for her to know she couldn't just wiggle away. Of course she could fight him off if she really wanted to, but hurting him really wasn't on her agenda for today. Or any other day if she was being honest.

She slowly turned in his grasp and the first thing she spotted was his gleeful smile, before her eyes caught the greenery dangling right above their heads.

"How the fuck..." she trailed off upon taking in the fact that he had really put a mistletoe on a stick so he could hold it up wherever.

They both laughed before she bumped her head against his chest, relaxing into his embrace. "You're such a dork."

She looked back up into his face, expecting a smart retort, but was only met with his intense gaze that suddenly threatened to set her on fire.

She shouldn't be feeling like this for her colleague. She shouldn't...

When his face slowly lowered to her own, time seemed to freeze. Not even the clattering of the mistletoe stick as it hit the ground registered in her brain, as his nose bumped against hers, his now free hand coming up to hold her chin in place.

Her eyes fluttered shut as first his beard tickled against her skin, before he brushed his lips against hers.

A shuddering breath left her lips, before it was cut off by his firm mouth pressed against hers.

She responded tentatively, grasping the front of his uniform as she tilted back to meet his lips fully. He pushed closer, mouth parting slightly as he deepened the kiss. His hand slid down to her neck, still holding her in place.

It was as if he was trying to devour her, to never let her get away again.

The hand that was not at her waist wandered into her hair, gripping it gently. She couldn't stop herself from answering his passion with the same enthusiasm he was showing her.

She slid her arms around his neck and pulled herself impossibly closer to him, almost moaning when her body felt his muscles even through the layers of clothes.

The hand from her waist slid down to her backside and he cupped her ass eagerly.

Her heart was hammering against her rip cage as she tried getting enough air into her lungs between kisses while Dominic barely seemed to feel the need to breathe.

"I'm not sleeping with my colleagues, " she managed to gasp out, after pushing herself away from him a few measly centimeters, fully aware that the willpower to stay true to her word was dwindling with every second.

His mouth was back on hers with barely a "Mhmm," to signal he had indeed heard her words.

"I also don't date my colleagues, " she insisted with the next gasp for air.

Again Dominic only hummed, his hands squeezing her ass firmly to get her closer again.

"It only gets messy, " she continued, yet not doing anything more to stop his kisses.

She felt his grin against her lips when he mumbled a cheeky "I sure hope so."

Even she didn't know if the sound that left her in response was a groan or moan "I'm serious."

With visible effort Dom pulled himself away from her and sighed before gently bumping his forehead against hers. "Look, Engelchen... I really like you. Or I wouldn't have been that persistent about getting a kiss. And from your reaction just now, I would say you like me too."

Despite knowing he was right, she still tried to keep it together, get back to something that at least resembled professional behavior. "That doesn't chan-"

Both hands now on her hips, he swayed them both to the rhythm of the slow music that played in the background. "Let me take you on a date. We can take it slow. And if it doesn't work out, I promise not to make it awkward."

Fuck. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to be in his arms, run her fingers along his beard, hear his goofy jokes. She knew she shouldn't though. "But..."

The german cut her off with a quick peck on her lips. "Say yes," he whispered before pulling away again to look into her eyes.

Her hands finally slid away from behind his neck, down to his chest. And she sighed before she playfully patted his stomach. "Alright. But I'm expecting something spectacular. You gotta blow my socks off."

Dominic's grin put the shine of the Christmas lights around them to shame. "Trust me, it'll be so good, you'll be the one who wants to blow somethi- OWW."

Bonus:

"Eeekk! What..." before she could even get her question out, she burst out laughing, almost immediately gasping for air.

She tried her best to see through the tears that were already gathering in her eyes, wiping furiously to get another look at Domi.

He stood in front of her, in what was obviously supposed to be a sexy santa outfit. The red dress rimmed with white fluffy fabric way too short on his broad frame. She would almost be able to see his underwear. If he was wearing any, which she wasn't so sure about with him. To add some more flair to his outfit he had also put on a hat with blinking Christmas lights and red knee high socks.

"I take it, I exceeded all your expectations," he asked, turning his back to her and shaking his barely covered ass.

At first she could still only wheeze as a reaction, but she tried to get some words out anyway. "You… are… out...out… of… your mind!"

"And you love it," he simply stated while walking up to her.

While she was still calming down and wiping the rest of the tears off her face, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. "Does your sexy Santa get a kiss before we go and gift the others with the sight of my gorgeous legs?"

She risked a glance down at said legs, and barely contained another laugh before looking back into his face. "Kissing Santa? I'm sure that'll put me on his naughty list," she teased.

He was prevented from answering when she placed a hand on his bare thigh, sliding it upwards under his dress while the other gently grasped his beard to guide his lips to hers.

#dominic brunsmeier #bandit #dominic brunsmeier x reader #dominic bandit brunsmeier #bandit x reader #bandit imagine #r6s bandit #rainbow six #rainbow six siege #rainbow six siege imagine #r6s #r6siege #r6s imagine #wolf writes

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 4: Suck It Up

Summary: Written for Whumptober Day 4. Takes place in my Httyd Zombie AU. Main fic to follow soon. The Dragon Riders exist even in a modern post-apocalyptic world and so the Dragon Hunters. When a pair get their hands on Hiccup, they attempt to do away with him in a rather slow manner.

Rating: Teen and up

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Hookfang

Pairing: None

Words: 2 071

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Buried alive

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: I think this is the first prompt I finished for Whumptober and I've been so excited to share this one.

Written for the prompt: Buried alive.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Ao3

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His head pounding and the metal taste of blood on his tongue, that is what Hiccup wakes up to. That and the dusty smell of old wood mixed with dirt. Neither of those three are all that pleasant on their own, let alone mixed together in such a way and all Hiccup can do is groan in displeasure at this sensory experience.

He attempts to bring a hand up to his forehead to hold his head, but finds it blocked by the wood that he's smelling. His hand thunks against it painfully, without a doubt chafing the skin on his knuckles and fingers.

It's right in front of him for some reason and it's a struggle to bring his hand up and feel the drying blood staining one side of his face.

A head wound. He's had so many by now that he can just tell. He hopes he hasn't been out for too long or he might be in more trouble than he can afford.

With this sudden resurfacing to the land of the conscious, his groaning is met by muffled chuckling and something being dropped with a scrambled thud on something hollow. Like dirt being shoveled.

It isn't until it happens a second and a third time that he realizes that this sound is much too close for comfort and specks of dust fall on his face that he realizes that dirt is being dropped on him.

"He-hey! What's-" He coughs, turning to not get lungfuls of dust only to find that this space is too small for him to even properly turn.

Opening his eyes, or trying to with all that dirt, he sees old wooden planks with the occasional mistreated spider's web in front of him. A quick look provides him with no comfort and he finds he's surrounded by these planks. He swiftly realizes the position that he's in.

He's being buried alive.

"Oh no... Oh no, no, no, no, no, no!" He repeats it over and over again, coughing more than once with all the grime falling between the teeny tiny cracks between the uneven boards.

Those cracks are the only reason he can even see as slivers of moonlight can still wiggle their way inside.

The chuckling from outside comes again and two people are talking about something he can't quite understand. He doesn't recognize the voices either, but remembering the predicament he'd been in before he blacked out gives him all the answers he needs.

Dragon Hunters. Not Viggo's men, not anymore, not since Krogan took over. But though their master has changed, their hatred for the Dragon Riders has not. They've managed to get their hands on him and now they are trying to dispose of him in an utmost terrible way.

There's no reasoning with them, not with these people. So all Hiccup can do is try to break free.

There is very little he can do. A panic causes him to slam his fists on the boards, he kicks them until his toes hurt, and almost too late does he see the nails poking out of some of them. Clearly they'd torn down some aged rickety whatever to quickly put a poorly made coffin together. No care had been put in removing unnecessary nails.

One of the nails scrape against a pinky finger and the burning causes his hand to start trembling. He's glad he noticed the nails before he impaled his fist on it, but that scrape is still worrying. His skin broke just enough to bleed and the last thing he needs is to catch tetanus.

But he can't let those concerns stop him. He needs to get out of this coffin before he's been completely buried and he can't get out anymore.

They can hear him struggle and it's reason for humor amongst the Hunters burying him. They find his growing panic hilarious. Every pounding of his fist on the top of the coffin in the hopes of breaking through the wood, of dislocating a board just enough to tear it away, it brings forth new chuckles and he can imagine the smug smirks on their faces. The sound of his struggling must be like music to their ears.

Hiccup coughs again, tasting the dirt and the falling webs on his tongue and gags. What little light there is in this death trap is being taken from him as more and more ground is shoveled on his coffin. His heart is racing.

His fists and kicks are doing nothing. Besides a scrape, he can't muster up the strength required to do any real damage even to himself in such a small space. And he can't turn in some vain attempt to push with his shoulders or back.

"Bud! BUD! TOOTHLESS!" So Hiccup shouts at the top of his lungs as his list of options is depleted much too quickly. He's hoping beyond hope that his Night Fury's exceptional hearing will pick up on his calls.

He should be conserving his air and just hope that his Dragon Riders will find him in time. They should know by now that he's missing, they rarely separate for long as it is. They should know he's missing and know that this means he's in trouble.

"GUYS!" He shouts and hears his voice reverberating off the walls surrounding him and make his eardrums protest. It does his headache little favors as well as his growing frantic need to get out as well as the steady loss of air.

And then the last of his light is stolen, that little bit of airflow is cut off, when they finish covering the top of his coffin entirely with loose dirt.

How long will it take them to finish leveling this unmarked grave they've thrown him in? How long until they leave? How long until his air runs out? Surprisingly enough, he never thought to research for how long you can breathe when you're buried alive before the Outbreak.

"Please, please find me." He pleads for no one to hear.

Hiccup grabs fistfuls of his shirt, attempting to calm his breathing even as the gravity of his predicament threatens to suffocate the life out of him. It takes him everything not to hyperventilate. He can feel tears welling up, can feel the lump in the throat and he holds his breath for a full three seconds before he dares to breathe out.

His effort to keep his emotions in check is almost in vain, and tears do wet his face before he can feel the need to cry slowly ebb away, forcing that overwhelming emotion to back down.

He's been doing this for too long to let something like this break his control over himself, the control he's been so carefully protecting and crafting this entire time.

Though getting buried alive is certainly a first for him.

'Please find me. Someone, please find me. Please, please, please. Please, Toothless. Astrid.' He has to think his pleas as saying them will only waste what precious air he has left for now.

It's what his Dragon Riders have been counting on for the past three years and a half. His level head, his creativity, his ability to sometimes have control over whatever situation they find themselves in this time. He can't lose that.

They count on him. They count on him, he just has to remember that and hold onto that fact.

Attempting to imagine their fear, them realizing that they can't rely on their leader, he wants to use the discomforting thought of his loved ones being afraid to keep himself in check.

It's working.

They need him and that means he can't die. He just has to tell himself that.

The sweating and trembling of his body, his heart racing, his headache's pounding worsening aren't signs that he's failing. And neither is the near bruising grip on his arms or the nearly dried tears returning with a vengeance.

His squeezes his eyes shut, they streak down his temple.

"C'mon, Bud. C'mon." They leave as whispers as he can feel these cramped walls closing in on him, he can't keep them down. It's getting harder and harder to breathe and he's not sure if it's because of his panicking or because his air is already running out.

How long has it been? He hasn't owned a watch or a digital clock, like a phone, in such a long time. He hasn't missed a mobile device or even thought about having one since he's lost his months after Outbreak Day after it had run out of battery long before that. But the light would've been appreciated. He has a lighter, but a flame, even as little as that one, will only eat away at what little oxygen still present.

Oh, where is his trusty flashlight? Where is it?

"C'mon, guys. C'mon..."

It's just as he's starting to lose hope and his panic is nearing a point of no return that the sound of hurried shuffling finally reaches his ears. The layers of dirt above his coffin are quickly being removed.

He dares to open his eyes, but his bruising grip or his hurried breathing don't let up. He has to blink a couple of times as more dust falls, but then the layers go and he hears voices. He recognizes them instantly and they become clearer and clearer.

It's them. They found him!

"There! There, I can see wood!" He can hear Tuffnut shouting, immediately followed by impatient whining and claws clawing away the last layers to then scratch at the box itself.

"Toothless?" Hiccup asks and the slivers of moonlight returns to him.

"Hiccup? Hiccup, can you hear me? We're here!" And that's Astrid. He can just barely hear her over the clawing, but that's definitely her.

His panic doesn't leave. It isn't until Toothless manages to grab hold of the lid and rips it open that light and air wash over him like a rampant wave crashing on a rocky cliffside.

His Night Fury is the first one he sees.

"Bud," He whispers.

The fresh air hits him like a truck and Hiccup inhales as much of it as he can. Toothless lets out a pained moan and smashes their faces together in his want to touch his human, to feel his warmth and his presence, to be comforted by the fact that he's still alive and they got to him in time.

Their cheeks pressed together, Hiccup holds his dragon's cheeks to keep him close. His hands are still shivering and he has to suppress the sobs of relief.

"Toothless, how about we get him out of there?" Astrid suggests, laying a hand on his shoulder, and the Night Fury reluctantly moves out of the way.

Once they can, the Riders grab him and swiftly haul him out of his would-be grave. Fishlegs and Snotlout each grab an arm to pull on.

Out of the box and into the open air, Hiccup stands on his feet only to find his legs too wobbly. So they lower him down onto the ground and Toothless is by his side again. Astrid kneels at his one available side and dusts him off.

"Are you okay? We got worried when you didn't return from your supply run and..."

"We were expecting to find you bleeding out or in trouble or something. Never would've thought they would bury you alive." Ruffnut speaks up, her hand holding her other arm.

The Dragon Riders are gathered around him, both the humans and the dragons. Hookfang blows some grime out of his hair.

"Yeah, I'm happy to be out, too." Hiccup tells him, scratching the Nightmare's chin.

"Well, we're happy too, but can you answer my question now? Are you okay?" Astrid repeats her question as Hiccup has neglected to answer it before.

He looks at her for a moment and nods.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine, I just-I just need a moment." He tells her, though it is the opposite of how he actually feels.

He feels awful. Though he's out now, he's weak with fear. This won't be an experience he'll just get to forget like some others.

But he'll just have to suck it up.

That's what he's been doing for well over the past three years, just sucking it up and accept that this is his reality now. No harm in repressing this bad experience as well.

#whumptober2020 #no.4 #buried alive #httyd #how to train your dragon #fanfic #rtte #race to the edge #httyd zombie au #hiccup haddock #hiccup whump #panic attack #my fanfics #suck it up

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decodamalion · 3 years

Text

Crossover Part 3

This idea was given to me by @bamboozled-boi. Hope you like this last part! :D

Characters from: Malion Series on Wattpad and Extraordinary

Characters: Cal, Taylor, Varitran, Kaylum, Anthony and Mistyal

This is in no way a part of the canon to either story. I wouldn't know where the logic would begin to connect these 2 universes seamlessly.

This is a very slow paced story because it's out of the point of view of someone who can live until he's 700 years old so just a warning!

Crossover: Infectious Magic part 3

Pounding.... where is that coming from? It's close... it's frantic. Wake up....

Wake up, Dark Star's Blight.

I gulped in air as I gasped and whipped my head around towards the door where the distressed pounding sounded.

"Commander Hue! Please wake up! We have a problem!" I heard a familiar voice yell. I felt my heart pounding in my chest. It almost felt in synch with the rapid banging on my door.

"What is it?" I called out as loudly as I could manage. The deep, painful pounding in my head didn't let up when I crawled to my feet, clutching the hot gold of my medallion.

"I will be out in a moment... just... give me a bit." I muttered and I leaned into the heavy door. I let out a huff and gathered my strength. I had to prepare... I had to keep steady. Then the sudden fear hit me. My eyes widened as I realised what was about to happen.

"Gladly, Commander. Those Earth dwellers have entered the kingdom! We might not have as much time as you need." Laidon warned. He'd probably been over exaggerating, but I didn't want to find out.

"Laidon, step away from the door immediately! Where are the Eartheans?" I demanded, swiftly grabbing one of the stray binds that lay in my desk and binding it tightly around ny eyes. I felt the cracks of power form in my skin like rivers pouring from my eyes... three reaching into my hairline and three clawing down my cheeks and past my jaw. The 12 streams overwhelmed my thoughs and from good and bad debating came countless screams... one of which was mine. I burst through the door and was caught by who I thought was Kaylum. His strong stature supported my assumption.

"Commander, what happened to you?" He asked, horrified. I let out a primal growl as I clutched onto him.

"In short, if I look at someone, they will die." I hissed, feeling my furiously trembling body struggle to take the new power.

"You're like a gorgon?" I heard Martin ask.

"No, Anthony. I'm afraid you won't see this in action. You must evacuate the castle immediately- Gaahh!" I yelled as i felt power surge from my eyes, scarred neck and streams. My worst scars felt as if they would rip open at any moment.

"Get to the Eartheans, now!" I barked, feeling Kaylum's skin get hotter until suddenly i felt the ground under my feet shift.

"The throne room..." I heard Anthony mumble, horrified.

"Get out of here." I growled with a gravely sneer.

"Admiral! Get out of here!" Kaylum yelled, distressed. I took in a sharp gasp.

"Mistyal! Leave this place! I will hurt you otherwise! I- grh... I will loose control!" I warned her, feeling her presence close by. Her rough hand rested sweetly against my streaming cheek.

"I love you, Varitran." I heard her voice softly in my ear. I wrapped my arms around her and held her close.

"Mistyal... My sun... Hy heart... I will never let you go." I told her and cast my shield upon both of us.

That's when the overwhelmingly loud crack of lightning and the immediate rumble of thunder brought us both to our knees.

"Varitran...!" She gasped as I heald her close to my chest. She wrapped her darly feathered wings around me as I closed my eyes.

"It's alright. I'll be fine. Please, follow Head Scout Laudon and General Martin to safely. They've called an evacuation order. I'll see you soon, my-" I was interrupted by another clap of thunder. She stood and her warmth faded as she hurried off. I swore I'd see her again.

"Good to see you again, Commander Vari. I thought I'd killed you back at that dessert city. Good to see you can still put up a fight." Cal taunted.

"Shocking, isn't it?" I growled, still not ready to remove the binds.

"I see the light from my ability blinded you, huh. Let's see how well I can beat you this time." He chuckled.

"Overconfidence is an insidious killer." I growled and remived the binds, squeezing my eyes shut, fighting against the escaping power.

"Woah! I guess my ability effects your kind differently. Weird..."

"This is not your doing. This is the purest form of my own power." His laugh sounded from above me.

"Is this how you killed those people?" Tailor's voice demanded from far in front, probably near the throne.

"It will be how I defeat you. How about we strike a deal..." I suggested, stumbling at another surge.

Thunder rumbled slowly... strange... storms do not form in the Beneath. I heard an agreement from Cal and an objection from Taylor.

"What? Look at him! We'll beat him easily." Cal convinced and brought up Taylor's reluctant agreement. I let out a quiet chuckle to myself.

"If I defeat you - wound you enough for your inability to move- you will explain your intention and we will sort this out in a civil manner. If you succeed in defeating me, you may go through with your foolish plan. I do not intend to kill either of you." I explained. Another, more powerful surge shot through me, making me stumble forward with a grunt as I noticed my bright glow. It flickered between gold and deep violet.

"Deal." I heard from both of them. That was my cue to look up at Cal. When my eyes met his, I swallowed in a massive gasp as my body shot upward. My eyes felt blooshot as I landdd a punch to his jaw, sending him tumbling through the air. As I fell to the ground, my eyes met with Taylor and as soon as I hit the ground, I lept forward and crashed into her, scraping her against the ground. I landed a hefty punch against her upper chest. She sputtered and coughed as I lept off of her. My shield glowed and held up perfectly against another strike of lightning from Cal. He gasped as I latched onto him, glaring into his eyes. My hand flattened out as I sank it into his stomach and ripped away at it. Whatever those Eartheans did to make their clothing, it was useless. He let out a yell that allowrd the darkness in my mind to fare up. I whirled around and threw Cal down. He hit the ground with a sickening thud. When I crashed into the ground, I was tackled away from Cal by Tailor who threw punch after punch into my shield.

"I'll humor you." I growled with an unsettlingly deep voice and allowed my shield to fall. The punches were substantial and soon I tasted blood.

"That's enough." I growled in Osrocan and pushed her away.

"That's it-" Cal yelled and I noticed his eyes turn completely orange as he rose into the air.

"Strike me! I will only become more powerful!" I called to him. The dark sky turned silver as clouds consumed the sky. Thunder lit it up like a cloudy Gaian day. A massive bolt of orange lightning crawled out kf the clouds and seeked for me as it's point turned and coiled and shuddered like the rest of it. Suddenly I lept off the ground and the bolt shot into me, sending an unimaginable amount of power through my body. It was simply orgasmic. I laughed maniacally as the orange lightning coursed through me. I sent it out right at Tailor, who couldn't dodge the bolt and was ripped appart by the power. I made sure she was still alive and that was when Cal flew down, yelling out Taylor's name. She would be fine. I shot towards her and buried my hand into the debris that had become of her chest and called out my healing word. I pounced back and sank a punch into Cal's jaw. He stumbled backwards, glaring at my eyes now fully yellow, glowing brightly.

"You've made a mistake, Cal. Do you surrender?" I asked. My hands trembling viciously when I reached one out towards Cal. He gkared at me.

"Let's box instead." He suggested.

"Nothing below the belt." I agreed. She stood there, taking position and circling slowly. Cal looked battered and I felt as if I had all the energy on Gaia.

As my power faded, so did my strength and with each blow from Cal, I started to doubt my ability. I gave another blow to his chest. He hit my jaw, splitting my lip farther. I spat the ever running blood onto the crimson tiles of the throne room and hit him in the stomach. We struck each other one final time and fell simultaneously.

"Well done." Cal muttered.

"I suppose I've won? I took down Taylor and you were a worthy opponent." I suggested. Cal huffed.

"I guess you did. Two against one... it's only fair you get this win." He mumbled. I closed my eyes for a moment and rexhed a hand to my face, realising that both were layered with blood. I whispered my healing word and reached over to Cal, resting my hand on the side of his buised and bleeding face, doing the same.

He gasped, revitalized and sat up while I continued to rest.

"I'd advise you to stay still while the magic works." I mumbled. Cal sighed and layed back down.

"I guess now is a good time to hold up my end of the deal. We came here looking for those Amethysts because we think they might be able to save a dying race of people. See, on earth people have created a type of hierarchy according the the power of one's abilities. There are Low-tiers, Mid-tiers and High-tiers. Tailor is a High-tier and I'm a part of the tier that is going extinct. I'm a God-tier. My power level is 27. High tiers can reach a maximum of 10 points. I can't remember jow many Taylor has." He commented with a cheeky grin. I allowed a chuckle and turned onto my back.

"My guess would be around 9.5, judging by the power of those glowing fists." I suggested.

"You're pretty close." I heard Taylor comment.

"Good guess, I suppose." I laughed, "Now... why do you need those Endoran Amethysts?" I asked.

"Our research told us that those crystals would be able to enhance abilities." Cal explained.

"Like ambrosia."

"Yeah exactly, Taylor. Like ambrosia." He mumbled.

"So the Endoran Amethysts can make your abilities stronger? How would they be able to do that? With the Endoh-power within them? Would that not simply corrupt your minds as it has some to the Karmareans that use it as currency? That is why there are so few rich Gaians in Karmaro's Korrep Region, where they are money." I mutter, half expecting them to have stopped listening to me by then.

"Their money drives them insane?" Cal questioned.

"Their money is magical?" Taylor added.

"Their money is made of corpses." I growled, "the answer to those questions is yes. Magical corpse crystals that drive people insane. They use the purple ones. The golden crystals are said to grant immortality and healing."

"So then we'd need those gold ones, if they are the good ones." Cal mumbled.

"Precisely. Although those are difficult to come by. There are only a few hundred left on Gaia. How many would you need?" I ask them.

"A handful."

"Two handfuls. Just to be safe." Taylor corrected.

"That's all fine and dandy, but there are currently no golden Endoran Crystals in The Beneath. I'd suggest going to Karmareoon. That's the capital of Karmaro. Crative... I know." I explained.

~~~

Once Cal and Taylor were completely healed up, new scars etched into their skin, I escorted them to the portal hub and headed into the Karmareoon portal. There, I helped them find the right people and bade them a warm farewell. I wished those extraordinary people a safe journey and then we parted ways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading Infectious Magic! I hope you enjoyed it and I look forward to seeing your feedback to this lovely crossover!

This will be my last post until next year. Thank you for hanging around this long lol.

Happy new year and merry Christmas!

#malion #fiction #my writing #oc #writing #m:rb spoilers #malion spoilers #extraordinary #m:uif spoilers #m:tbfs spoilers #Cal #Taylor Extraordinary #Malion Series #blood tw #wounds tw #lightning #powers #magic

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sir-huffman · 3 years

Text

tagged by: @songzhong (hello, here’s a wall of text, and I enjoyed reading about you Mao!) tagging: @you on the dash - aka you see this you’re tagged.

——— BASICS!

Name: Duke ( any pronouns, but most use masculine )

Face Claims: - Itsuki Kamiyama from GOTH (professional like above) - Suga from Night of Drizzling Rain (general)

——— THREE FACTS!

1) I am an ISTJ and a Taurus...so take that what you will. I’d like to say I’m friendly, but tend to put a very large wall (of text) up so people know what they’re getting into with me and to give an explanation for my actions...as such I am very introverted and only have so much energy for interaction. This leaves me seldom to contact people in the RPC unless I have a specific idea in mind for our muses...which honestly I never do. The best is for me to just chuck a meme at people and see how our muses vibe. After that, well uh...yeah. I’m one of those RPers who have more people I interact IC than OOC cuz OOC interaction takes a lot out of me unless we somehow vibe well.

And by vibe well, I mean our muses generally interact well and aren’t apathetic towards each other. There are so many muns that I respect and consider friends and admire from afar, but we’re not close due to just our muses just not vibing as well as others (which is totes fine it’s just how things sometimes go, ya know?).

( you’ll find that I write a lot hence the read more )

2) I am very stubborn and have a little bit of tunnel vision in my own HCs and world crafting. My muses tend to be people who hold an authoritative and demanding presence where their opinions are stated as truth...which is the complete opposite of my own personality. But I’ve learned that I have to kinda draw my lines and I feel like I can probably give people whiplash between my timid and nervous nature and when it comes to defining my muses. Honestly I’m just very flexible with molding my muses to help fit for interaction, but I do have hard lines and like to make it clear if I’m bending my characters vs how they would naturally act...I tend to make my muses push overs unless I’m like 100% comfy...and even them I make them push overs...hence the amount of my crack threads because I have no sense control and just wanna have fun...with my tight assed muses.

3) That said...I’m just a meme. My main reputation is just being that one mun who RPs a Team Rocket OC with 6 Magikarps. But I truly just have two sides. The very crackish side where (1) I’ll just throw our muses in ridiculous situations and (2) the very angst heavy side that usually only talked about due to my muses handling trauma and very apathetic and nonchalant towards breaking hearts. And as I write this out I feel like I’m giving people whiplash on whoever is reading this since they see Huffman here and is like “oh, how cute what a soft boy” and then I bring up Morax who is just a monstrosity of a muse where I’m toning him down 99% of the time because...well...(*looks at hands*) he’ll end up killing a muse 99% of the time if I don’t stop him and that isn’t fun to RP.

——— EXPERIENCE!

My first experience in RPing in general was on an old website called TinierMe and also a mobile app called VampiresLIVE (lol). However I officially started RPing on Tumblr in 2014 as a Gijinka!Groudon blog originally known as theruleroftheland. After that I’ve slowly branched out of the Pokemon RPC but hold a strong connection with the friends I’ve made there (or kinda, I’m horrible at keeping contact with others since I disappear for months/years at a time). But I’ve found I’m most comfortable writing on tumblr due to the amount of formatting and organization that comes with RPing on here.

I’m slowly branching out to Discord (thank you to my dear RP partners over there who are patient with me because I’m slow) and becoming more accustom with being social over there.

——— MUSE PREFERENCE!

Gender: 100% male to RP as. I find that I gravitate towards males since I have disconnection with male muses from myself and I like having that wall. Writing females get a little too personal for my own comfort so having that extra layer of distance really helps. Also it helps me look at things differently.

Multi or Single:

I prefer single-muse blogs to run as I like keeping things strictly relating to my muse on one blog and another muse on another. Over the years I’ve been interested in throwing my old muses onto a multi-muse blog but honestly I can never bring myself making a multi-fandom multi-muse blog due to my own heavy need for organization.

As for shipping, I work under what I call a Quasi-Single shipping (aka multi- and single- ship). I operate under the impression that my muses are in an overarching timeline of their life that is heavily affected by their relationships. As such the MULTISHIP aspect is prone to have cheating and relationship overlap. I’m into having muses naturally engage in threesomes, foursomes, lying, cheating, misunderstandings, fights, break ups, get back togethers, etc. with all muses and muns participating together in the joy of it all. Jealousy and questioning of my muses’ relationships and actions are welcomed as I like having the sense that my muses are human and things aren’t so cookie cutter.

That said I am also SINGLESHIP in the sense that most of my muses are not polyamorous and are very much interested in having an end goal relationship where they settle down and marry. With who and how that happens really depends on both my muse and my partner’s muse. So whoever my muse is really shooting to get married to and actively advances will be my main single ship partner...or really whoever is going to influence my muse the most and I can see my muse actually yearning for (which honestly isn’t that many muses *cries*).

That said...Huffman in particular is going to be really hard to single-ship with as he is 100% dedicated his entire life to his lord and savior Lord Barbatos and this is the thanks he gets to Mondstadt and he will betray his own lover and such for Mondstadt.

He is also a(ego)romantic so he has a huge disconnection with serious relationships as he will honestly treat them just like he treats every other citizen in Mondstadt and it can slowly get to any of his partners since he just thinks is just apart of his job as a partner...which is the same job he has with the people of Mondstadt.

fluff/angst/smut:

Fluff: Generally I don’t find myself interested in fluff, but I realized that is only because of my previous muses couldn’t handle fluff at all. For this particular blog (Huffman) fluff is honestly the only thing that I can offer due to the nature of his character. Fluff with the undertone of angst is going to happen a lot, it’s not going to be sugary sweet fluff but just a result of Huffman’s very grounded and relaxed nature. He is calm and level headed, very rational (a little too rational) and very determined to make sure everyone is happy...and as such angst won’t really happen because Huffman tries to avoid such things naturally.

Angst: I enjoy angst, I’m that person who loves crying and my favorite tropes (especially in shipping) is unrequited love especially when it’s with a character who has so much love and dedication to one person. As such, I find that I’m more inclined to talk about angst than actually RPing it. I’m very slow (really really slow) when it comes to RPing unless it’s crack or relaxed banter. So when it comes to angst, I like to set time aside and fully write it out...making me having to respond weeks to months later...haha sorry. Also I naturally have muses who are apathetic towards angst and other muses feelings that is hard for me to write because I’m the opposite and I get heavily invested...it takes a lot out of me.

That said...most of my angst comes from very slow burns rather than actually writing it out. It’s more of the anticipation of the heartache, breakup, betrayal, cheating, etc. that I’m more inclined to talk about than actually RP...as stated above my muses are generally cold hearted and very accepting of any consequence to their actions...they tend to be planners and expect karma to creep up on them someday.

Smut: I am very particular about smut. I personally like talking about it but actually writing it takes a lot more time for me to do. There are some words that I refuse to write (which happens to be a lot of the smutty words lol) due to how I read them in my head irks me and doesn’t flow right (my worst subject in school was English so I don’t know many words okay). As such, it takes time for me to fully write smut and even then the way I tackle it is very action oriented rather than immersive (I like to think) so uh...RIP my rp partners who want to write smut since I usually respond when I’m half asleep and have no filter and probably stare at me like “wtf did I just read?”. I’m sorry my smut partners who have to deal with me.

plot/ memes:

Memes: I’m more inclined to send memes than actually get around to responding to them. I like keeping my thread count low because I’m slow and usually memes require immediate interaction (something that I may or may not have the time for). However, most of my threads come from memes that will fizzle out over time and I eventually drop without warning- it just how it goes.

Plots: I like plotting and defining pre-established relationships. Having to start everyone off with a blank slate isn’t something I like unless it just seems natural for our muses (ie. for Huffman he probs doesn’t know many Liyue characters, but he definitely is close to Mondstadt characters at least on a name basis). As such, I tend to like establishing relationships and then going from there so I know how Huffman will interact with them.

Plotted threads, however, take a lot out of me as I like coining an idea and then having a starter be written and then go from there. If there are checkpoints to happen, I get awkward because my muses are 95% certain to shift the narrative based on what is being written and the situation that arises. So heavily plotted threads isn’t good, but defining the trajectory of a relationship is something I’m down for...mostly because I’m a quasi-single ship and 99% of my muses relationships are going to fail naturally - which is something hard to bring up when there is ship talking happen.

#ooc: { about duke }#ooc: { long post }#//when you give up half way in editing this #//and just decide to leave this giant wall of text for those who wish to read it #//*kicks onto dash and leaves*

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kal-rants · 3 years

Text

(Not Really) Quick Thoughts on FE: 3 Houses

Me? Talking about a game that’s been out for almost two years now? You best believe it.

Quick Backstory before I bullet point this shit so I can get it out of my system. I played the game the day it released years ago and more or less finished it in a week. My first route was with Black Eagles and after finishing it was ultimately unsatisfied by the ending and set it down with no intention of doing the other routes. A friend started playing it late 2019 and was fawning over Dimitri and his route. Taking her word for it, I gave the game another go and decided to finally finish it. Took me a while but I finally finished the three main routes and oh boy...

The Houses

I loved all the women in Black Eagles but the guys were meh. Caspar was fun and by far my favorite of them, but Hubert grated on my nerves and Ferdinand was sweet but because I also had Sylvain on my team, I kept confusing the two (based on appearance not personality).

The general cast of Blue Lions was by far my favorite. Every person in the house was so enjoyable and I actually loved getting the support conversations for all of them (Ashe is my favorite character). My only issue with the house was ironically Dimitri who I could not stand post time skip (a little more on that below).

By my Golden Deer run, I was mostly playing just to complete the game which might contribute to how lackluster I found them. I wanted to kill Lorenz so bad but he was so good at killing people and Ignatz was sweet but was so bad at killing people that I permanently benched him to focus on everyone else (played this one on hard mode). Almost all of their support conversations were fairly one note and after the layered convos of Blue Lions, I wanted more. Claude is incredible though and it became an inverse of my thoughts on Blue Lions.

Bonus: Yuri and Hapi were my immediate faves (even if Hapi was a glass canon on the field for half of the game) while Balthus and Constance where interesting but still meh for me.

Plot

So I picked Black Eagles house solely because I was interested about Edelgard and I definitely didn’t realize I was signing up to side with the one starting a fucking war. While I loved Edelgard throughout, I found the actual route complicated for me, especially after the time skip where I was taking down people I didn’t want to take down. I was left feeling like I was following the bad guys even as the game tried to say otherwise and it left me with a bad taste. In retrospect, I’m sure the devs didn’t really intend for you to do this route first judging by how little they go in the way of explaining certain things such as Byleth and Those Who Slither In the Dark. Overall, I understood why Edelgard was doing what she was doing, but the game thought that was enough and didn’t even try to convince me why I should side with her outside of that and it only hurt her route overall. Plus, I am still annoyed that Edelgard dealt with TWS in the epilogue and not in her actual route WHEN SHE IS THE ONE WHO WAS ARGUABLY AFFECTED BY THEM THE MOST OF THE THREE HOUSE LEADERS LIKE WTF WHY GIVE THAT MOMENT TO CLAUDE.

I’ll be honest, I remember so little of what actually happened in the Blue Lions route which I attribute to me not being able to really get on board with Dimitri since BL is more or less an intimate character focused route for Dimitri’s growth. I’m not here to bash Dimitri, I’m just saying his shifts in character happened a little suddenly and there were other things about his character that were kinda just vanilla for me. I did find it weird that we never actually saw Rhea again even though getting her back was a big thing for most of the characters and you’re kinda left to wonder what even happened to her (another moment given to Claude’s run).

And finally the Golden Deers. By the 3rd time through all pre-timeskip stuff was so insufferable to get through, but the one saving grace was Claude’s insight in all of it. It made it feel different even though the events were the same. Post-timeskip his route really shines as it is able to bridge the gap between the war and the proxy war behind it with TWS. It’s also the only route that you actually get answers for shit that the other two ignore (which thematically makes sense for those routes but still). It is ironic though that this route did more to get me to sympathize with Edelgard that her own route did. It is technically the best route of the three hands down.

Other

So Rhea. I went in not trusting her because Jeralt mentions to be on guard about her and, since I started with BE, my distrust was proven right since she is trying to rip open your heart to get Sothis back. That hatred/distrust ran through my other two routes up until the last few chapters of Claude’s where we actually get context for what was going on. I was left in a similar position that I was in with Edelgard where I could understand Rhea’s reasoning for doing everything she did, but I still couldn’t side with her considering that she is technically responsible for the worship of Crests and nobility. Also, who builds a church and places yourself on top to be worshipped? Also also, why even place such importance on Crests? I know about the interview with the developers saying she “had” to because of how humans viewed the 10 elites at the time, but I feel like there is another option to build peace between them that doesn’t involve the elevation of Crests. Also racism; really should have done more to prevent that from blossoming in the way that it did.

So Edelgard. She seems to be a hot topic on Tumblr which tracks so I’m going to traverse this with extra tact. I do love her and overall, I do agree that the system that the Church built had become corrupt. I mean when multiple children have emotional and physical scars of that corruption at school, it’s hard to argue against that. Do I agree that starting a war is the best way to change things? Before 2020, I would have said no, that there had to be another way to change things. But now? I dunno sometimes a system is too corrupt to rebuild off of diplomacy alone and it definitely wouldn’t happen quickly enough in a person’s lifetime. Given Edelgard’s shortened lifespan, I do get why diplomacy would have never worked for her. I don’t think I can ever fully support Edelgard for the war she started and for siding with TWS (I know her reasons but that’s basically making a deal with the devil) but I can’t deny that her goals are admirable at the least. Will her winning said war even change things? Well who knows. That depends on how she implements them afterward. I’ve seen lots of people claim that it’s unrealistic for her to have been successful in changing anything after the war but I don’t know about that. If anything, Rhea proved that she could mold the world however she wanted after her war and if Rhea could do it, then why can’t Edelgard.

Considering the nastiness of racism, I can’t even believe that Claude’s run of “end racism” was going to be as successful as they think. Solid baby steps, maybe? But don’t know how well that’ll actually go in the long run.

Dimitri might have been overhyped or something but I expected so much more than what I got from him. In the Academy Era, he rang fairly vanilla in that he was a kind and honorable guy but not much else. Felix mentions how savage he is, but there weren’t very many hints of that pre-timeskip (that I remember anyway). Obviously he was a ticking time bomb and later Dimitri shows that. And I was totally on board with slowly helping Dimitri become human again, but that’s not really what happened. You’re not allowed to do anything with Dimitri other than get his brief blurb in Explore or toss him into battle. I know why they did it, but because they shut him off from you so completely, I had problems being able to connect with him in the post time skip and ended up rolling my eyes whenever he started talking. It also made his change after Rodrigue died so sudden and it felt v forced for me. They really could have done a better job at it is all I’m saying.

Ashe and Mercedes had the cutest S-support epilogue and I will die for them.

Dorothea deserves the world and Yuri and Dorothea making an Opera troupe for commoners is the best thing.

I wanted so much more for Leonie but they stuck so hard to the Jeralt fangirl label that she never really grew beyond that.

#fire emblem three houses #fe:3h #edelgard #rhea #claude #kal rants.#long post is long #I swear if I get even one note on this I will be surprised #put the read more there because I figure knowing my opinions on the houses is enough to know whether you care to read about my opinions #about everything else

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