#off the walls comparison but it reminds me a little of the good place — everyone is making choices that hurt others without realising | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaichaiiskai · 1 year

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Hello, can I request a Baki x male reader smut

Like baki was in class and they were doing a quiz and he didn't do it and never even wrote on his paper because he was staring at reader who sat in front of him, and reader is a really pretty boy and pretty thick and smol like bunny And baki kinda has a thing for him, so the teacher assigned pretty boy as bakis tutor and they go to bakis place, and baki admits his feelings and they do the dirty 👉👈

baki hanma! x pretty boy! male reader

note: i’ve never written for baki before but fuck yeah i accept this request!! (if you see repeated paragraphs, its a tumblr glitch and i cant delete them w/o fuckin’ up the actual post so im sorry in advance 😭)

warnings: amab reader, male reader, he/him pronouns, homophobes dni, anal, fingering, unprotected sex,

How can a guy be so pretty? It doesn’t make sense.

Not to Baki at least, and he’s a pretty smart guy when he wants to be, which reminds him of the empty quiz paper on his desk.

For just a split moment he looks down at the paper after tearing his eyes away from you, sitting in front of him, diligently completing your quiz like the good student you are. Baki thinks you’re cute. Fuckable, actually, but he wouldn’t mind getting to know you better…

Eventually, his mind begins to wander as he stares at you, daydreaming, and sometime after, the teacher comes by and snatches his unfinished quiz from the desk, observing it. Baki hadn’t even written his name on it, let alone fill out of any of the answers. And what’s worse, pretty much everyone had already left the classroom for break besides Baki, you, and the teacher.

With a frustrated sigh, the man rubs at his forehead with one hand as Baki turns his attention from you for the first time in an hour to stare lazily at the irritated man in front of him.

“What’s the problem, old man? You’re gonna get wrinkles if ya keep thinkin’ too hard.” Baki smugly teased, crossing his arms over his well-built chest that’s a little too built for a third year High Schooler, leaning back in his seat with the most carefree look present on his face.

The irritation on the instructor’s face only gets worse but then he sighs, shaking his head. “If it weren’t for you, the class average wouldn’t be so low. You need a tutor…” His eyes roamed around the room for a split second before they landed on you, currently tapping away at something on your phone, completely unbothered and not listening to the other men chat in the classroom. That was until your heard your name being called, causing you to look up in curiosity at your teacher who’s now standing in front of your desk, motioning to your fellow classmate who’s now shamelessly staring you down with a smirk on his face.

Somehow, you’d ended up accepting your teacher’s (pleading) request to tutor the laziest (and hottest) student in your class. Now, you were walking by his side, looking like a tiny little thing in comparison to his hulking form despite being the same age and you were pretty sure you were a couple months older than him.

As Baki suggested, you would be tutoring him at his place and so here you were, walking with him to his home. As you approached, you took note of the egregious amounts of graffiti on the walls as well as the outside of his house, which piqued your interest. This seemed to not go unnoticed by Baki whilst you began to approach his front door as he spoke up, explaining the meaning behind the vandalism.

“‘s lot of people out there that I’ve fought who’ve lost, or people who want to fight me but know they can’t win, so this is the next best thing, the only thing they can do to save face. I don’t really mind, ‘s not a big deal.” He said, shrugging his shoulders as he took out his key to slide open the door and led you inside, taking off his shoes near the front door to start walking further into his home. You nodded sheepishly at his explanation, frowning a little at the thought of people being such cowards to do such a thing instead of facing him head on.

As you followed him deeper into his home, you realized the place was a lot cleaner than you’d anticipated and before you knew it, you were in his bedroom.

Baki watched curiously as you sat down on the floor at the table beside his bed and started to slowly unpack things from your bag, setting them on top of the table. He could practically smell how nervous you were and it amused him greatly. He was also thinking about other things (like how soft and pliable you look) but he saved those thoughts for later.

Following your example, he sat down at the table right beside you, barely leaving any space between the two of you, your knees knocking together. Subconsciously, you shivered and set the last of your things down onto the table, not daring to meet his observant eyes as he stares at the side of your face, waiting for you to do something. In your peripheral you can see him with his elbow resting on the table now, his chin propped up in the palm of his hand, staring at you with amusement lingering in his gaze.

Your tongue darts out of your mouth and swipes at your lips in an attempt to wet them which doesn’t go unnoticed by Baki. In fact, he wonders what it would be like to kiss you, better yet, to get beneath your school uniform.

Before he can open his mouth to /insinuate/ these thoughts, you’re already speaking up.

“So.. I suppose we should work on homework first for class and… and you can ask me for any help i-if you need it..?” You suggested, though it sounded more like a question than a set plan of action.

Baki grinned lazily.

How cute.

He thought about it briefly but then hummed in acknowledgement, deciding to play along for now before he could put his own plans into action.

Surprisingly, to you at least, Baki had started working on his own homework beside you, what was even crazier was that he’d finished before you and now he was just staring again. Almost like he was waiting for you to finish up with your responsibilities before he’d swipe down and attack you. The thought made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but it wasn’t exactly out of fear.

Some time passed, the room filled with strangely comfortable silence aside from the sounds of your pencil and your breathing. Noticing you finish off the last question, Baki set his plan in motion.

“L/N-san… anyone ever tell you how pretty you are?” Baki nonchalantly asked, watching as you skittishly flinched at the compliment, snapping your gaze towards to him to look at him in bewilderment, reminding him of a startled animal.

Unable to help himself, he reaches towards you and cradles your chin in his hand, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip in curiosity. His eyes are studying your face as he looks down at you, once again reminding you just how easily he could snap you in half even if he barely lifted a finger. However, the hold he had on your chin was gentle and caring, he was mesmerized by the feel of your lips over the rough skin on his calloused thumb, along with your skin.

Soft. Pillowy. Moisturized. You take care of yourself. He likes that. It is a strike contrast to his skin that’s been hardened by brutality and overzealous training that’s turned his entire body into borderline stone. You were just so soft, he wanted to see what other parts were the same.

And despite not getting a verbal and coherent answer from you regarding his previous question, he continues.

“Prettier than any girl I’ve seen. I’d call ya handsome but…” He watches as you blink in surprise, your cutesy lashes kissing your cheeks as you look back up at him, slightly pouting at the start of his backhanded compliment. “— don’t think that fits you. Y’know… ya kinda remind me of a little bunny. You’re skittish like one. And you’re tiny. Bet I could pick you up with one hand.”

His sultry voice and the teasing tone makes something stir inside of you, along with an unneeded erection in your pants. Were your pants always this tight? Sure, they always fit a little snug around your hips and thighs but— What was he trying to say? It would probably be in your best interest to ask him.

“A bunny…? Is that a compliment or.. or an insult?” You softly ask, awaiting for his answer, hanging onto every word that leaves his mouth. For some reason, your gaze has dropped from his eyes to the little beauty mark above his his top lip, and then down to his lips as they move, speaking sweet things to you.

“A compliment, of course. I wouldn’t insult the guy I like, after all.”

You paused, looking back at his eyes, your nose scrunching up along with your eyebrows as you decipher his words, the shock apparent in the look you’re giving him.

Baki smiles.

You really are a little bunny. Makes him want to protect you at all costs, even though he’s sure you can take care of yourself, which is something he also likes about you.

And then you parrot his words right back at him, mainly in disbelief as you feel the heat rise in your face and the rest of your body.

“You… you like me? Like— romantically or..?”

“Pfft. Yeah, romantically. I think you’re cute, smart, adorable, pretty… I wanna get to know you better, and I think I know how to get started.” His words make you curious, eyeing him in suspicion as you may or may not have an idea at what he’s hinting at. “Is that so? Alright, well, I’m open to whatever you have in mind..” You whisper, not rejecting his advances in the slightest without directly stating that you felt the same way about him.

Truthfully, you’ve had a tiny bit of a crush on the class’s sweetheart, but who didn’t? You weren’t even sure if he liked guys, especially not with the rumors of him having a girlfriend or two. But here he was, leaning in and smashing his lips against yours like he was trying to steal the oxygen straight from your lungs and give you the oxygen from his own.

You’d never been so passionately kissed before so it was easy to get lost in it, not even minding the way he effortlessly lifts you into his lap, your fingers tangling up in his cherry red hair, scratching at his scalp, causing him to moan at the unexpected affection.

As he’s holding you in his lap and your kiss turns into a flurry of open mouthed kisses, the sound of your soft pants being swallowed up by the larger man as he kisses you, his hands move down to squeeze at the plush of your ass, enjoying the feel of it in his hands. Rarely does he get to experience such softness beneath is fingers, he was going to cherish every second of this for as long as it went on.

With a little maneuvering from the both of you, you’re both soon rid of your school uniforms and were now in nothing but your boxers, bulging tents furiously rubbing against each other. Baki continued to fondle your ass while guiding your hips, rocking them back and forth so that were dry humping his cock with your own, his lips now connected to your neck. The sweet sounds you’re making spur him own as he litters your neck in love bites and marks that display that you’re his and only his.

The impatience between the two of you steadily grows but Baki takes the first step, standing up with you in his arms as he takes you to his bed and lays you down on top of it, moving to hover his bulky and muscular frame over your small but curvaceous one. In a moment of clarity, watching as he goes into the nightstand beside his bed to pull out a bottle of lube, you speak up.

“W-wait, what about your parents…?” You worriedly ask, not wanting to be caught in the middle of your risqué behavior by the adults in Baki’s home, to which he only chuckles and tugs your boxers down, exposing your bare lower body to his eyes. “I live alone. Don’t worry.” You squeak in surprise when you feel a rush of cold air brush over your cock, your shaft twitching as a bead of precum lands on your belly.

Baki grins at your reaction, finding you even more adorable as he tugs his own boxers down but not fully off, giving you a clear view of what he’s packing.

It’s big just like the rest of him. Should you really be all that surprised?

You gulped worriedly, instinctively backing up a little further up the bed away from him. “I— woah woah woah, I don’t think that’s gonna f-fit me.. Uh.. maybe I could just—“ “Ah ah ah. C’mon Y/N-sama,” he says, purring your first name in a way that instantly turns you into butter, “I’ll prep you first. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

Wait, boyfriend? Did that mean you two were exclusive now?

You had no time to ponder the thought when you felt something thick and slippery in your hole, instantly making your back arch off of the bed, a mewl of surprise, pain, and pleasure erupting from your parted lips.

“Haah..!”

Looking down to see the culprit of this strange feeling, you see that Baki’s lubed up his right hand and had stuck one of his calloused fingers in your ass, stretching you out with the meaty digit. After giving you a little time to adjust to the intrusion, he starts to pump it in and out, purposely hitting your prostate each and every time while he watched you squirm and call his name, begging him to slow down and give you some more time to adjust.

Baki does the opposite, in fact, he doesn’t stop fucking you stupid with his fingers until he watches you spray cum all over your belly, decorating your skin in your own white sticky nectar. Then, he slowly pulls his fingers out, watching you pant and tremble on top of his bed, your eyes glossy with blissful tears. You then watch as he scoops up the cum from your belly and sucks it from the fingers he’d just finished fucking you with.

“Fuck, you’re so cute… Think you can flip over on your stomach for me or do you need some help?” He asks you, watching as you looked up at him, still trying to calm down from your first orgasm of the evening, as well as seeing him eat your cum. When he gets no response, he laughs lowly and decides for you, promptly grabbing onto your plush hips and flipping you onto your stomach, propping you up on your knees so he can get a full view of your ass.

Pumping his cock a few times, he bites down onto his lip and grabs up the forgotten bottle of lube that was dropped onto the bed a little earlier, he pops it open and squirts a generous amount onto his cock and on your hole.

Then, he leans over you, pressing the tip up against your puckering hole while pressing his hand onto the bed beside your body, caging you in as he leans over to whisper in your ear. “I’ll go slow, just relax for me, will you? I know you can, bunny. You’re my good boy after all.” He whispers, kissing between your shoulder blades. The gesture and his words make your cock harden again even after cumming and you shake a little in shock at just how easily your body responded to him.

And that’s when you felt it, the ridiculous stretch of his tip as he began to push himself into your lubed up and slightly stretched hole. Baki grits his teeth as you start to swallow him up, making him groan in delight and satisfaction, going in inch by inch until his balls are snug against your perineum. He doesn’t move once he’s fully inside you and you don’t either, crying out as he’s stuffed you full. You’ve never felt so full in your life. It burned. It tingled. It hurt. It felt amazing. There were too many sensations going on at once and it was overwhelming you to the point of becoming delirious but Baki’s calming voice reeled you back down to reality with ease.

“You alright? Doesn’t hurt too much does it?”

You have half a mind to shake your mind but you know that any little movement would make the rest of your body move so you verbally responded instead, though your lips remained shut, a hum would suffice.

“Mm… mm.”

Baki chuckled and you lurched forward at the movement, making you gasp and suddenly scratch at his bed sheets, pulling at them as you buried your face into his pillow, smothering your face in the lingering scent of the shampoo he used. Sighing, he leaned back and rested his hands onto your hips, still not moving as he observes your body in this position. Your body was just as pretty as your face, he had his suspicions but this was exceeding beyond his expectations. He wanted to move, fuck you through the mattress and maybe even break the bed frame but he refrained, wanting to give you time to adjust. He knew that once he started he probably wouldn’t be able to stop or let up any of his movements so this was a the best course of options for the both of you.

However even he had his limits. As content as he was with you cockwarming him with your sweet ass, he wanted to start moving, and so did you.

Pulling about halfway out, he slammed back in, watching as your body bounced, especially your ass, and licked his lips, hearing the muffled scream come from you at his sudden movement. Then he waited a couple seconds to see if you’d protest but when you didn’t, he pulled back and thrusted again, watching in fascination as your ass rippled in waves with the impact from his hips. This earned yet another broken moan of pleasure from you, and so, he continued, rocking his hips at a slow pace, listening to your quiet cries of pleasure as he continued to grip on your hips.

The slow pace gradually increased in speed, and before you knew it, he was fucking you hard into his bed and you were pretty sure that if he wasn’t holding onto you he would have sent you right through the wall and out onto the street in front of his house.

Your little mewls and moans were music to his ears, mixing with his own groans and moans as he continued his rapid movements, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, the tip pushing against your prostate each and every time. The rigorous movement made your own cock bounce around without any restraint and you were sure you’d ended up dirtying up his sheets soon if he kept up like this.

What you weren’t expecting was him to suddenly pull back and slap your ass with his hand, making you cry out in shock, turning your head to the side so you could breath and then look back at him over your shoulder.

Looking back at you through his half-lidded gaze, he grinned at you and picked up his pace, just to watch your eyes flutter from the pleasure, your head lolling to the side as you were overcome with ecstasy and pain.

“Haah… sure this is your first time, bunny? You’re gobblin’ me right up with this fat jiggly ass of yours. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your body was made for my cock and my cock only.” He teased, smacking your other ass cheek to leave them raw with two matching handprints.

Good luck going home after this, he’s not letting you leave, plus, its not like you’d be able to walk properly afterwards anyways. Luckily, you’ve got a loving new boyfriend to take care of you.

#baki the grappler #baki headcanons #baki x reader #baki x male reader #x male reader #baki hanma #baki hansma smut #baki x y/n #baki x you #baki hanma smut #male reader #male reader smut #x thick reader #x curvy reader

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ecoamerica · 26 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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shadecrux · 9 months

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On The Wing - Chapter 3

https://open.spotify.com/track/0RLwgks1gHQzXeIkaJIpHr

Previous Chapter ┃Next Chapter

˚ * •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙* ˚＊------💜 💚 💜------＊* •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙ *

°•★Pairing: Bucky Barnes x femaleartist!reader

°•★Rating: NSFW

°•★Tags: strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, first time, oral sex, piv, unprotected sex, pet names(doll), teasing, praise, consent checks

°•★ Words: 1990

°•★ Notes: I hope everyone has been enjoying so far!! Back with another installment, this time with smut~! If there's anything I didn't tag but should have please let me know and I'll add

~All writing unless otherwise noted is my own. Please do not post or reupload my work to other websites without my express consent. I do not consent for my fics to be used in AI creations. I do not own any of the characters featured in my works unless they are stated to be OCs.~

All of my fanworks are intended for adults aged 18 and up only! Minors please DNI.

˚ * •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙* ˚＊------💜 💚 💜------＊* •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙ *

Home among these mountaintops

Can seem so awfully dull

A thousand miles from the tide

Put photos on the walls

Of new york shopping malls

Distract me so I stay inside

After your reminiscence had brought you to tears that evening, you had put the photos away, safe in the drawer of your bedside table. Close enough to touch, but hidden from sight - it seemed to be an apt metaphor for the way you felt about that weekend. It had been years, but you had never forgotten it, never forgotten him. He was the one that got away, and after him, no one else you met seemed right.

You had been on plenty of dates. Men, women, other... You never had too much trouble meeting folk, it seemed. Some you even saw once or twice. One or two you had promised to keep in touch with. You hadn’t though, and were alright with keeping it that way. Everything and everyone else seemed to dull in comparison to his shine - and you had no earthly idea how to find him again.

It wasn’t as though your life had been all bad, during those years. You had seen dozens of new places, logged thousands of miles into your travels, circling the globe several times over, though not necessarily in a straight line. But there always felt like there was something off… like you were missing a piece of yourself. You knew it was the piece of your heart that you had left with him, in Brooklyn - and you tried to fill it. But you were never quite able to - nothing else fit right in that space that he so expertly carved out of you.

Days passed, and then weeks, and you fell into a simple enough routine. You had managed to find a half-decent job, doing construction work for a small business that did a lot of maintenance on the homes and businesses of the town. The work was hard, but the pay was good, and your coworkers were friendly enough. Sometimes you’d go out to the local watering hole to share a beer or few with them and had friendly conversations with townsfolk as you went about your days, but you never fully felt like you belonged.

You were just… a little different, in a way that didn’t fit with small-town living.

After one particularly grueling day, long hours dealing with a client who clearly took your male colleagues more seriously than you, struggling with loneliness you returned home and collapsed onto your bed, arms wrapped around that stupid unicorn plush Bucky had won you all those years ago.

You had pulled him out after only a few days in this new town, needing something to hold on to, some reminder of better days…

—--------------------------------------

The cab ride back to your hotel felt like it couldn’t be over fast enough, the charge between the two of you palpable. It was all you could do to keep your hands off of him, and based on his strained expression and unusual quietness it seemed as though he was feeling the same way.

Upon arrival at the hotel, you had practically sprinted through the doors and to the elevator, and the moment the doors were closed he had you crowded against the wall, his lips on yours, hungry and insistent.

Miraculously the two of you managed to make it back into your room, stepping out of your still slightly soggy shoes and kicking them in a direction.

“Is this alright?” He murmured as his hands trailed over your body, tracing your curves, his touch sending rolling waves of heat flooding through you. “Tell me if I’m going too fast, okay?”

“I will, but please… don’t stop.”

Bucky groaned in response, tugging you sharply against him, letting you feel the hardness now tenting his jeans.

Your thighs collided with the side of the bed - how long had the two of you been moving backward? And with a low, desperate sound you fell back onto it, dragging him down with you, not willing to be parted from him for even a moment.

Bit by bit clothing was removed, Bucky lovingly exploring each new expanse of skin with hand and mouth, until you were left in nothing but a soft bra and cloth pair of panties, already notably stained from arousal.

“This all for me?” He asked with a low hum, dipping his head between your legs to wrap his lips over your sex, breathing in the scent of your arousal as his tongue swiped over your clothed core.

“Fuuuck, doll-” He moaned against you, his hot breath on your core making you squirm and whimper.

“I need to taste you…”

“Please…” you murmured in response, and Bucky was all too happy to oblige you. His thumbs hooked around your panties and slid them down and off, kissing his way back up your thigh until his face was hovering mere inches away from where you most needed his touch.

“You’re so beautiful… every inch of you…” He murmured while spreading you open, watching you unfold for him before dragging his tongue along the seam of your sex and suctioning his mouth over your clit.

You keened then, head falling back, hips snapping against his mouth as pleasure overtook you. He rumbled approvingly against your skin, using one hand to grip your hip and hold you in place as you squirmed while the other made its way up your thigh, two fingers now teasing at your entrance.

“Still okay?” He asked softly, pulling up for air for only a moment.

“Yes… god yes.” You whined.

“Mmm, good…”

He dove back in, sliding his fingers inside of you and curling them upward, finding your spongy pad of flesh and rubbing them in circles, rocking his hand against it as he sucked your now swollen clit back into his mouth.

It wasn’t long before you felt pressure building up inside of you, little jolts of lightning running up and down your spine and you knew you couldn’t hold it back much longer.

“Bucky, I’m close. I-I’m gonna-”

“Let go sweetheart - let go and come for me.” He groaned, and the low tone of his voice sent you over the edge. His hands and mouth never stopped moving, drawing out your orgasm, lapping up as much of your arousal as he could.

He came up with a grin, his chin dripping with you, pupils blown with lust.

Then you were tugging him up toward you, crashing your lips against his, tasting yourself on his tongue as your hands flew to unbutton his jeans, pushing them down his waist allowing his cock to spring free of its confines, tip already glistening with precum.

Bucky pulled back, panting, his expression strained. “If this keeps going, I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to stop myself, and I don’t have a rubber on me.”

“Ah, shit-” you groaned, knowing you didn’t have any either. But you were only meant to stay in the city another day or two, at most. Who knew if you would get another chance to see him?”

“Are you clean?”

“Yeah…” He huffed. “Are you?”

“Yeah.”

You on birth control?”

“Yeah, implant.”

“Risk it?”

“Risk it…”

It was all Bucky needed to hear. He kicked his pants off and tugged you toward him, lining your hips up with his. His length pressed against you as he leaned forward, sliding his hands underneath you to unclasp your bra and toss it aside, baring you fully for him.

You rocked your hips against his, covering him with your arousal, the look of pure need on his face making your insides clench around nothing.

“How the hell did I get so lucky?” He exhaled, a low sound of pleasure rumbling in his chest as he began to push inside of you, your tight heat wrapping around him like a vice. “How is a beautiful dame like you interested in a guy like me?”

“Are you kidding?” You gasped, angling your hips to take more of him, legs wrapping around his waist tugging him closer, wanting to feel him bottomed out inside of you. “You’re probably the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met. Funny, intelligent, kind…”

Your next words were stolen as he rocked forward, sheathing himself inside of you, taking hold of your legs to wrap them more tightly around his waist.

“God you’re tight - This isn’t too much is it?” his voice was impossibly strained. “Am I hurting you?”

“No… no it doesn’t hurt at all, Bucky, please.” you whimpered, feeling the entire shape of him, some deranged part of you quietly grateful you didn’t have condoms on hand.

“I think I like hearing you beg…” he murmured, placing an elbow on either side of your head and leaning down to brush his lips over yours, small, tender kisses as he began to move, sliding out of you a few inches before pushing back in, beginning a slow, loving rhythm.

“Ahh… then fuck me, please-” your voice was little more than an exhalation of breath, rocking against hip, rolling your hips up so every thrust had him pressing against your gspot. “Please Bucky, I need you-”

It was all you had to say to shatter the last of his resolve. He was trying to go slow and let you adjust to his size, but your heated words made that all but impossible, and he began to thrust against you in earnest, and soon the wet slaps of your lovemaking and your combined sounds of pleasure were resonating through the room. There were no more words, only your bodies moving against one another, hungry mouths and hands, the way your body jumped each time his hips met yours.

You could feel him growing harder inside of you, the movement of his hips growing erratic as he neared his end.

“Do you want me to pull out?” he huffed.

“Don’t you fucking dare-” came your reply, and Bucky responded by sliding an arm beneath your hips, changing the angle of his thrusts, his other hand diving between your bodies to squeeze and rub at your clit determined to bring you along with him.

He shattered with your name on his lips, cock twitching as rope after rope of his seed painted your insides. The sensation set off some sort of chemical reaction in your brain that dragged you over the edge with him, the pleasure so blinding that the corners of your vision went black.

Time seemed to lose all meaning, the pair of you swimming in ecstasy, never stopping in your heated dance until his legs were shaking and your abdominal muscles gave out, and he collapsed on top of you, keeping most of his weight on his arms and burying his face in your neck.

“Wow…” he sighed, once he had found his voice again.

“Wow is right…”

You lay there, tangled up in each other until the sweat began to cool on your bodies, and with a groan he slid out of you, a trickle of warmth flooding out behind him, coating your thighs in his spend.

“We should clean up and rest - we’re gonna have a busy day tomorrow.” He smirked.

“A busy day doing what?” you murmured, already missing the fullness of him inside of you.

“Anything we want. Though I did sort of ruin your shoes - maybe a bit of shopping?”

“Mmm… anything sounds good right now as long as you’re included.”

He cleaned you up before you slept, and the two of you spent the rest of the night wrapped up in each other's arms. In the morning you enjoyed a lazy start to the day: A hot shower, which led to a round two and then another shower before enjoying a late breakfast in the hotel restaurant before heading out for a day on the town.

As he promised, your first stop was the King’s Plaza shopping center, where Bucky insisted he find you a pair of shoes to replace the ones he had waterlogged the day before - and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader smut #finally the smut #modern au #soldier bucky #artist reader #sebastian stan #shades fics

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teacherintransition · 1 year

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Everyone’s Life is A Book with Many Chapters

The lives of my sons have had ups and down…chapters

I’m so proud of them …my youngest steps up!

Since retiring, I’ve been able to be more involved with my sons lives than I thought possible. My three sons are spread all over Texas; it’s been over two years since we’ve all been in one room together. Despite this, I’ve been able to share time with each of them in ways made available by my “transition.” I just wanted to share some thing special with all of you. I love my family and each of them have made me very proud. My youngest has often been reminded of his mistakes…and I know he made a few (haven’t we all). He’s grown into a good, kind man.

I had the pleasure of staying at my youngest son’s home in Floresville, where he lives with his soulmate. If I had to make a comparison, it’s similar to my oldest son’s party house when he was in college in Nacogdoches. They keep it clean, quaint, cozy and they are proud of the home they have made. They showed me the little town where they live and we stopped at a place for a late lunch. I got out my card and he spoke up, “no dad!” Then they both said together, “we want to treat you.” They carefully added up their cash to make sure they had enough.” It made tears well up in my eyes. We got home and I said, “let’s go sit on the back porch and enjoy the view and wind.” My youngest said, “would you like for me to get Sparky so you can sit with him?” My voice cracked as I said that would be wonderful. By now, my readers know that Sparky was known as “King Sparky.” They took care of and loved Sparky his last few years with us and loved him deeply.

We talked and then went inside and I drifted off for a short nap. My son asked if I’d like to do anything, because his mom and I always take them places when they visit us. I said I was happy just to relax in their home. He said, “I just want you to enjoy yourself…I’m so glad you came.” They have a big dry erase board in their dining area that has upcoming appointments, big goals (save for a house…save for a wedding). On the board, they have a section of things to remember to keep them positive. At the top of the list was, “our families love us.” Then followed with, we have a home, Sparky is in heaven, and circled with a heart was, “PAPA RICH IS COMING.” It moved my soul that they were looking forward to a middle aged hippie retiree dropping by their home.

His lovely lady made a delicious pot roast stew and my youngest made sure I had a drink as a show of his kind hospitality. He kept asking if he could do anything…I said, “no son …I’m just happy and proud to be at your home.” He hugged me goodnight and said, “I’m happy you came.” The next morning, I got up and sent them a text as I thought they were sleeping in. Late until they fell sleep, I could hear them talking and laughing long into the night. They compliment each other like few couples I’ve seen.

As I was driving off, he called as asked where I was. I told him that I texted him and I took off early because his momma doesn’t like being alone. His voice broke and he started crying a little and said, “I wanted to hug you and tell you goodbye.” He then said, “I hope you’re proud of us.” I was overwhelmed with emotion. I’ve written about the sometimes tumultuous father/son dynamic. I write from experience that a son always wants …needs a father’s approval.

Their place is small, way out in the country, but it’s quaint and filled with words of love all on the walls. It’s their home. They don’t make a lot, but they squirrel away what they can. They are constantly asking each other if they can help each other. I don’t have the words and my eyes are filled with tears when I think about how hard they try to do things the best way possible. They both asked about each member of our family. They love them all very much and want them to be proud of them. My youngest has struggled a lot…he just wants simple things …dinner with his lady, sitting on the porch and a willingness to work hard.

I’m proud beyond words of each of them, but on that day my youngest and his soulmate had my heart. I hope that in the next few days …they could all drop a line and tell him they are proud and love him. Growing up, I told them multiple times daily that I loved them; I wanted them to have no doubt. I still want them to know it daily and that I need them as much of more as I always have. My three sons, their wives, my wife, my grandchildren all are painting a picture of our commitment to each other. I’m proud of my boys.

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thisaintascenereviews · 2 years

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Orthodox - Learning To Dissolve Remember a few years back when nu-metalcore was a huge thing? A lot of bands were riding that trend, such as Cane Hill, Loathe, and Vein.fm, among others, but I feel as though the sub-subgenre has been on the downswing the last year or two. I haven’t heard too many bands in this style within the last couple of years, but I’m always on the lookout for these acts. I love the groove of nu-metal mixed with the breakdowns and intensity of metalcore, and as much as I want to hear new bands, I do feel as though the genre has run its course a bit. With that said, there are some bands still kicking that are taking the style into new places, and being more than just a one-note group. One band that I decided to listen to recently is the Nashville act Orthodox. These guys have been kicking for a few years, and I never listened to their last album, but they just dropped a new one, entitled Learning To Dissolve. I heard some good things about it, so I decided to check it out, just to see what all the hype is, and I gotta say that I really enjoy this record. Learning To Dissolve has its problems, although they aren’t very major, nor are they major problems, but it has a lot good stuff, too, and it’s one of the most interesting and exciting albums I’ve heard all year, especially in comparison to a lot of the other metalcore albums I’ve listened to this year. They have some ways to go before they’re really, really great, but this album is a great indicator of what’s to come. For starters, this record has a really cool sound, namely being a mix between Slipknot-ish nu-metalcore and Code Orange / Knocked Loose-style metalcore that goes at breakneck speed with huge breakdowns that will definitely get you to grimace at how insane they are. The Slipknot influence is very, very obvious, and if that bothers you from the get-go, I kind of get it, because they remind me a LOT of Slipknot. It can kind of get to the point of blatant worship, but I don’t know, they execute it well. It doesn’t personally bother me, but their sound won’t be for everyone. Either way, their vocalist has a cool sound to his voice that works well with the music, including that whisper thing that nu-metal vocalists do, and his high intensity screams that work quite well. The album starts off on a pretty great note, and it’s a perfect idea of what’s to come throughout the next 42 minutes of mayhem. They mesh their nu-metal sound and grooves with metalcore breakdowns and heaviness pretty well, especially in comparison to a lot of other bands in the same style, but a nu-metalcore album wouldn’t be complete if there wasn’t a track with glitchy electronics, or at least a few songs like that, anyway. That’s kind of where my problems begin with this album, however, and what I mean by that is, well, this album is pretty generic. In case you didn’t get that from me talking about how this band sounds like Slipknot, they do have a lot of elements that are very commonplace within the nu-metalcore style. Whispered and hushed vocals, Slipknot-ish guitar tones, glitchy electronic passages, and a few more things that you’d associate with nu-metal are plentiful on the album, but I wouldn’t say it’s an outright bad thing. I mean, they throw some curveballs every now and again, and their song structures are very off the wall, but a lot of the basic ingredients are the same and familiar. It’s the way they cook these ingredients is a little different, but if you like Slipknot, you’ll probably enjoy this band and this record. Another slight issue that I have throughout this record is that it oddly feels too long, at least by the second half. The first half is great, and it really keeps you on your toes, but the second half dips slightly in quality, mainly because a lot of it sounds recycled and regurgitated, like I alluded to a minute ago. Some of it is rather generic, and a lot of the ideas on this record repeat themselves, so by the end, I’m just worn out by this record. I like it a lot, don’t get me wrong, but I’m just not as engaged as I was in the beginning. At 42 minutes, it’s not a bad length at all, but when the album drags on a little bit, that can feel like an hour. With all of that said, I’d definitely recommend Learning To Dissolve. It’s not perfect, as it’s a bit generic in spots, and it relies too much on the nu-metal tropes, but those tropes are executed nicely, so I can’t fault it too much. If you enjoy Slipknot, Vein.fm, Code Orange, Knocked Loose, or any of these bands that have that nu-metal / metalcore sound, you’ll enjoy this. At 42 minutes, it gets a bit lengthy, only in the sense that a lot of this album repeats itself, but I have fun every time I listen to it. I wouldn’t say this is an album of the year contender, but you might have some fun with this one. I have fun with this record every time I hear it, and in terms of nu-metalcore, you can’t go wrong with this album. I’m happy that I listened to it, but if anything, just give this band a few more years, they could really put out something awesome. Not that this album isn’t good, but they’re on the verge of something more innovative and interesting. This is a good example of a band that just needs some time to grow and expand their sound, but I hope they do, because I really like what they’re going. Learning To Dissolve isn’t a super unique album, by any means, but it’s a well-executed nu-metalcore album that brings a bit of life into a style that’s been slowly on the downswing the last couple of years, and if that sounds up your alley, definitely give it a listen.

#orthodox #learning to dissolve #nu-metal #nu-metalcore #slipknot #korn #cane hill #rock #century media

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separatist-apologist · 3 years

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Um can I have a part 2 to Lucien finding out about solstice? Pretty please?

You can have a part 2. I was not planning a follow up to yesterday's little sass-a-thon but apparently everyone likes bratty Elain and irreverent Lucien.

Lucien woke wondering if he’d imagined the entire night with Elain. It certainly didn’t seem real. She’d barely said one word to him for a good year and some months only to turn around and tell him to eat shit. He wondered what it said about him that he liked it. Lucien groaned, kicking the blankets off his sweaty body like a petulant child. He was tired of waking up alone and more tired still having seen the fire lurking behind his mates’ eyes.

Lucien padded to the bathroom suite, still naked from sleep. He perched on the edge of the tub, turned on the hottest water he could possibly stand, and sank into the scalding water until everything but the top of his head was visible. He was supposed to leave today, back to the mortal lands. Back to sniping with Jurian and arguing with Vassa and daydreaming about Elain when no one looked at him too closely. He still had his apartment in Velaris. Perhaps, if today went well, he’d spend a week in Feyre’s starlit city.

He took his time dressing and grooming, still more than a little irritated with Azriel from the night before no matter how his angry outburst had worked in Lucien’s favor. He certainly would not be outdone in the one arena he knew he could run circles around the male in. Lucien had always had a sense for fashion and what worked well. He didn’t need to know Elain well to know it was something she appreciated about a male.

If Rhysand was surprised to see him that morning, he gave no indication as he handed Lucien the morning paper at the breakfast table. Their silence was companiable enough, sipping coffee while Lucien tucked away tiny pieces of information about Night Court he thought might use as leverage at some point. It was nothing the High Lord wasn’t willing to risk, given how he prized information himself, but Lucien never passed up an opportunity to keep himself well informed.

He felt strangely content in that moment until Elain swept in wearing a gown of pale, shimmering gold that was altogether inappropriate for the softly snowing day around them. Rhys glanced up at her from his cup of coffee, one eyebrow raised for all Elain seemed to notice. She had tea and a scone and, without a word to either of them, sat across from Lucien. Lucien’s eyes roamed what part of her body she could see; the long-sleeved dress seemed to be made of paper and exposed her shoulders and collarbone to him. His fingers twitched around his own mug as the mating bond woke with a vengeance.

Touch her touch her touch her touch her—

“Lucien,” Rhys interrupted Lucien’s musing. Elain kept her eyes focused on the wall behind him, her big, brown eyes framed by too-long lashes. Was she wearing make up, he wondered? Or had her lips always been so pink, so—“Feyre mentioned you were considering staying for a few more days.”

Elain’s eyes focused, glancing towards the High Lord. Had Feyre said that? He certainly hadn’t made any promises outside of his own mind.

“I have some business in the city,” he agreed, well aware Rhysand must know his only business was his mate.

“Are you planning to stay here? You are welcome to, obviously.”

Lucien shook his head as color began to creep into Elain’s cheeks. What was she thinking, he wondered?

“No, in my apartment,” he replied, catching how her eyebrows raised. Did she not realize he had one?

Rhysand’s violet-colored eyes shifted to Elain, his mouth curving into a smile. “I’ll have your things sent over, then. Please, feel free to stop by for dinner if you’d like. I know Feyre very much enjoys your company.”

Yeah, yeah, Lucien thought, still thinking of how Rhysand had shut Azriel down the night before. Not out of friendship, but politics. Still, it was better than tacit approval and, in some stupid, small way Lucien could appreciate the shrewdness.

Elain excused herself leaving Lucien to finish his breakfast and dress for the cold before making the trek towards his apartment. He’d try at dinner, he told himself. It would be easier to corner her somewhere alone, to let her lobby insults at him and, perhaps, kiss her on the mouth if she held still long enough for him to capture her face.

Lucien turned the lock to his apartment to find two things wildly out of place. His bags were sitting just inside the foyer next to a long, silver cape that was too feminine and small to belong to him, hung on the hooks beside the door. Just at the end of the hall, Lucien saw Elain in that same golden gown, arms crossed over her chest.

“I didn’t know you had an apartment,” she accused as he unwound his scarf.

“You never asked,” he reminded her patiently, his blood thrumming at the sight of her in his apartment. He could practically taste the argument floating between them.

Give me your worst.

“Must I do everything?” She asked him, arms crossed over her chest. He had to look away; she’d inadvertently caused her breasts to swell beneath her arms and Lucien was struck dumb at the sight.

“Not everything, no,” he replied, walking to the living room where she waited. “But perhaps something might be nice.”

She scoffed and Lucien dropped onto the cream-colored loveseat, stretching out his long legs as she watched her from the corners of his eye.

“I don’t owe you—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted, bored. “Why are you here, again?”

Because it was her, after all, standing in his apartment. She shifted, her boots still wet from the snow. She’d created a little wet spot on the hard wood beneath her feet. He would normally have cringed at that, but it was Elain, if she wanted to ruin her floors, who was he to stop her?

She bit her bottom lip. “To tell you how hideous you looked at breakfast this morning.”

Lucien laughed as he ran a hand down his chest. Elain’s eyes followed the movement. “Liar.”

She scoffed. “I’m surprised you fit in this little apartment at all, given the size of your ego.”

He couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward, carefully watching her expression. “You know, Elain, they say it takes one to know one.”

Her mouth dropped open again as she stood, stunned into silence for a moment. “You find me ugly?” She asked, dropping her arms to her side.

“Impossibly ugly,” he agreed, the lie rolling right off his tongue. Her cheeks flushed as he took a step towards her. He was going to kiss her, he decided. “And ill mannered.”

“It is your manners that are offensive,” she retorted hotly. “Though not nearly offensive as your face.”

Lucien hesitated, surprised by how her words stung a bit. It was a game and yet…she’d touched on something he’d privately feared from the moment Amarantha gouged out his eye. He could still recall, in the early days, how people recoiled when they saw the scarring, how even now people stared, surprised at the brutality etched into his face. He’d spent more than one night wondering if Elain too found him abhorrent to look at.

He arched a brow, his heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t know what he’d do if she truly thought him ugly. It would wound him far more than anything, short of a flat-out rejection of the bond. “Oh?”

Her eyes drifted towards his mouth. Lucien blinked, some of his fear ebbing. “Disgusting,” she murmured, inching closer. He held himself exactly where he was despite his muscles screaming in protest, demanding he yank her into him and kiss her senseless. “The ugliest man I’ve ever seen.”

“Liar,” he told her again. She blinked, head tilted, eyes half-lidded, her lips parted ever so slightly. This was what had gotten Azriel in trouble, wasn’t it? This moment, right here. He suddenly felt immense sympathy for the male. Lucien was also rooted in place, desperate to touch her, too.

“I know,” she whispered. Her eyes fluttered closed the moment he reached for her face, holding her just as she was so he could kiss her. Words failed him the moment their lips touched, the world melting into nothingness. Whatever he’d thought, however he imagined that moment paled in comparison to the real thing. She was soft, her lips sweet. Every single piece of her seemed to radiate an invisible heat his blood recognized by contact alone.

Mate. Mine. His body sang, urging him to take things further, to strip her of her clothes and mark her with his scent so thoroughly no other male could get within a mile of her without smelling him, too. He had to stop himself, unsure what she wanted.

“You’re a shitty kisser,” he told her, forehead pressed to her own. Elain giggled, the sound ringing through his chest.

“You’re so rude,” she responded with a sigh. “How can anyone stand to be in your presence?”

“And yet here you are,” he reminded her, poking her in the stomach. “In my apartment.”

She looked around, her eyes taking in his furniture, his shelves of books, his artwork. “Why don’t you stay more often?”

He shrugged, unable to meet her gaze. “There is little for me to do here.” That was partially true. Why torture himself and sit around waiting on a female who had no interest in him? He wasn’t that much of a glutton for punishment. Elain stepped away, walking towards the wall length windows and pushing back the curtain. Gray, snowy clouds did little to hide the cheery day around them as fat snowflakes were carried along in a winter wind.

“I have been cruel,” she said after a moment. Lucien came up behind her, resting his hands on her delicate shoulders.

“Perhaps. But not without cause.”

She blinked, twisting her neck to look up at him. “It’s just a lot…even now.”

He nodded. “I could help, you know. I’m not your enemy.”

“What kind of help are you offering?” She asked as she turned around, letting him twine his arms around her body. His heart stuttered for a minute. Pretty, she was so pretty—

“Whatever help you’d like,” he managed to choke out. Elain smiled slyly.

“What if the help I want has nothing to do with being made?”

He was going to die, he thought. He cleared his throat. “Could you be more specific?”

She was mocking him. “I often struggle with the laces of my dresses, for example.” She gestured towards the back of her gown, neatly laced with a golden ribbon. Easily undone, he thought, his fingers twitching. It would take one pull to have her dress pooled at her feet. He brought his face closer to hers, well aware that his thoughts were likely not well aligned with what she really needed. Time. Space. Room to get to know not just him but herself.

“Sounds like you need a friend,” he murmured, brushing his lips across hers before dropping his arms and stepping away. She huffed a sigh.

“Do you treat all ladies so poorly?” She demanded. Lucien was back on the couch, legs stretched out as he willed himself to calm down.

“Only the ones I like,” he replied with a grin. Elain plopped down beside him and took his hand, much as she’d done the night before.

“Lucien?”

He’d never tire of hearing her say his name. “Yes, Elain?” She scooted a little closer, her eyes locked on his. She was looking at the scar, he realized. Panic flooded into his throat.

“I lied when I said you were ugly,” she confessed. He exhaled the breath he’d been holding. “And I like the scars. You’re beautiful.”

He reached for her chin, caressing her sweet face. Lowering his mouth to hers, Lucien told her, “Ah, well. It takes one to know one, now doesn’t it?”

#elucien #elucien fic #elucien prompt #elain x lucien #lucien x elain #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #i think we all know a third part of this would just be smut #so perhaps we call it good here?#and if you want to see them bicker more #just send me an ask bestie

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Delight in Misery (ao3) - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 (interlude)

The Lotus Pier was a free and unrestrained place in comparison with the Cloud Recesses, and there was no similar prohibition on raising pets. This was a good thing, largely because Lan Wangji had recently started to think of his little found family primarily in animal metaphors.

It was, he concluded, because of the way Mo Xuanyu followed Jiang Cheng around like an imprinted duckling, with stars in his eyes and an unfortunate tendency to try to emulate his actions while possessing exactly none of the temperament required to pull any of it off.

Indeed, watching him wheezing his way through a threat to break Jin Ling’s legs was a sight worth seeing, especially with Lan Sizhui patting him on the back and encouraging him when he temporarily got stuck stuttering on the word ‘legs’.

Jiang Cheng, for all his faults and imperfections, could be terrifying when he wished to be, the blood of the battlefields of the Sunshot Campaign forever impressed upon his bones; with Zidian to hand, he could look commanding and fearsome, decisive and harsh, and with his sharp looks and sharper scowl, he cut a fine picture - even if Lan Wangji knew the truth, that behind all that sharpness was the soul of a grumpy marshmallow.

Mo Xuanyu, with his wild thatch-like hair that couldn’t be controlled no matter their joint efforts and even wilder and far more questionable taste in appearance, couldn’t hope to match him, and really ought to stop trying.

Naturally, Jin Ling looked about as convinced about the threats as he ever was when Jiang Cheng said it, meaning of course that he didn’t care one whit, but despite their initial concerns, he took to Mo Xuanyu quite well. Lan Wangji was initially puzzled by it, given their conflicting personalities, but Jiang Cheng insightfully (for once) pointed out that it was most likely that Jin Ling was willing to forgive quite a lot in exchange for having another person dressed in Lanling Jin gold around to make him feel less awkward about it.

The two of them together were two little goldfinches strutting around in a sea of purple – or, perhaps more accurately, two golden roly-poly puppies bounding around, tails wagging, trying to befriend the Jiang sect’s army of sleek haughty purple cats. They were accompanied, of course, by a small, gentle crane with a most un-Lan-like taste for spicy fish with radishes and absolutely no head for water travel.

(They were working with Lan Sizhui on that. He lived in the Jiang sect now; he couldn’t spend his whole life being seasick!)

“What does that make you, then?” Jiang Cheng asked when Lan Wangji – after incessant prodding – mentioned his thoughts on the subject of their growing nest. “Master Rabbit?”

Lan Wangji glared, but didn’t object to the characterization; regardless of his personality, there was good reason to make the association. This was largely because Lan Xichen had recently embarked on a mission to capture the rabbits Lan Wangji had been – not raising, precisely, because pets were forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, but feeding on occasion when he had the time. He had brought them to Lan Wangji’s new “residence” at the Lotus Pier as a housewarming gift.

(Lan Wangji had no intention of moving out of Wei Wuxian’s bedroom, of course, but Jiang Cheng had long ago exercised his authority as sect leader to clear out the rooms just beyond it to create a small additional courtyard for him, in which he could exercise and meditate without being too far from the main quarters of the Jiang sect leader. As a result, the only change involved in his new, public, and above-board decision to reside in the Louts Pier was adding a new entranceway to make it appear as though they lived in separate albeit adjoining houses rather than living together in just one. Of course, it being the Lotus Pier, the new entranceway involved constructing not only a gate but a new bridge…)

“What exactly are we supposed to do with a bunch of rabbits?” Jiang Cheng had demanded at the time, staring down at them - there were rather more than Lan Wangji had remembered there being, but he supposed that was the nature of rabbits.

“I have no idea,” Lan Xichen had replied, smiling broadly. “But Wangji likes them.”

Lan Wangji had pretended that neither of them existed, and also that he was urgently needed elsewhere.

Later, Jiang Cheng had cornered him, demanding an explanation or else the rabbits would be sent down to the kitchens to be repurposed, and Lan Wangji had reluctantly confessed that they were from the burrow first established by the two wild rabbits Wei Wuxian had caught for him all those years ago.

Naturally there was no more talk of repurposing after that, and three sets of rabbit coops – far more than the rabbits Lan Wangji actually possessed required – mysteriously appeared in his small courtyard the next day.

“Wouldn’t want the stupid things to drown,” Jiang Cheng had grumbled when confronted with the evidence of his sentimentality. “If they attacked your garden and tried to burrow down they’d only hit water, and then where would we be? Awash in bunny corpses, that’s where, and that’s just unsanitary. I have a duty as sect leader to preserve the public health, you know.”

Lan Wangji had initially had some difficulty determining what type of animal Jiang Cheng was. He was as prickly as a porcupine, as standoffish as a hedgehog, as fickle as a cat, as graceful and vicious as an angry goose…

Recently, however, Lan Wangji had met a merchant from the south who had been selling a type of bird he called zishuiji, or purple swamphens – the merchant claimed that they were descended from the famous zhanniao, the poisonfeather zhen bird noted for their purple bellies, scarlet beaks, and deadly venom. Although Lan Wangji was moderately certain that the man was exaggerating for the sake of a sale, he had found himself compelled to purchase several sets to house in one of the empty rabbit coops, now moved to be placed in the main courtyard, nominally to be nearer to the waterways but mostly so that they’d be easily accessible to everyone - and, of course, to subtly harass Jiang Cheng.

It turned out that zishuiji could apparently be treated in much the same way as chickens. They were highly adaptable, but thrived best near water; they were generally shy around humans, but vicious in defending their territory, capable of biting and mobbing when provoked; and they preferred to raise their eggs with company –

Truly, he had found the right bird for Jiang Cheng.

(Not to mention the euphonious imagery of a purple hen strutting around with its purple lighting, zishuiji with zidian...truly, a picture meant for the ages. Lan Wangji determined at once to make a painting of it and insist Jiang Cheng hang it on some wall. Maybe even one of the ones in the main hall, where strangers could see.)

“Some of these are getting used for food,” Jiang Cheng insisted with a glare. “Some of the rabbits, too. There are no rules against the killing of livestock here, you hear me?”

Mo Xuanyu fell in love with them immediately – Jiang Cheng’s theory was that he was entranced by their iridescent feathers, while Lan Wangji’s view was that he recognized the innate Jiang Cheng-ness of them – and quickly took charge of their care, although Lan Sizhui and Jin Ling routinely assisted in collecting eggs.

Jiang Cheng reluctantly admitted, after some time, that the purchase had been a good one, if only because it served to settle their little awkward duckling into place, finally allowing Mo Xuanyu some sense of stability, as if having some type of small duty for which he was responsible was all he needed to believe that he wouldn’t be forced back to Lanling or to Mo village, his original place of origin, which he somehow feared even more than the backstabbing snakepit of Koi Tower.

(“You need to stop calling him a duckling,” Jiang Cheng said, quivering with laughter. “Do you know that could also mean…no, I’m not saying it. Anyway, he’s such an impressionable brat. Did you see what he did with that make-up he bought? He really does look a bit...”

From this, Lan Wangji inferred that the nickname was both extremely apt, extremely unfortunate, and had permanently stuck.)

In fact, despite initial concerns, it had been surprisingly comfortable to bring Mo Xuanyu into their lives at the Lotus Pier.

He was grateful and happy to be there, which helped; Lan Sizhui was welcoming, and Jin Ling somewhat reluctantly accepting, each for their own reasons, which helped more.

Best of all, he was at just the right age to be a regular disciple, and the current Jiang sect was especially welcoming to outsiders, having been cobbled together from a wide range of previously rogue cultivators and the small handful of survivors of the previous sect’s massacres. It improved Mo Xuanyu’s mood tremendously to be around boys and girls his own age, doing the same thing as them, without the weight of Lanling Jin’s expectations on his shoulders even if he sometimes wore their colors.

“He’s never going to be the most martially inclined,” Jiang Cheng opined after a small period of observation. “But he might make a decent administrator.”

Lan Wangji glanced at him sidelong in silent question, since Mo Xuanyu had not displayed any especially notable scholastic talents either. He had started cultivating fairly late, although obviously not as late as Jin Guangyao, but he lacked the other man’s genius for organization and management. Moreover, while his studies did admittedly exceeded the low bar set in Lan Wangji’s mind by Nie Huaisang’s miserable performance, that was a very low bar indeed.

(Nie Huaisang wasn’t stupid, he reminded himself once again. He was in fact extremely clever. And yet, even knowing what he knew, it was so easy to forget…)

“He’s kind and thoughtful of the well-being of others,” Jiang Cheng said, averting his gaze and pretending his cheeks weren’t tinting red. “Calligraphy and math, people skills, that can all be learned, but at least he has the important part down…I told you to stop doing that.”

Lan Wangji ignored him and continued to smile.

“Freak,” Jiang Cheng muttered, then shook his head. “I can’t believe anyone actually listens to you. Least of all me!”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. That part was Jiang Cheng’s own fault – he’d been using Lan Wangji as a sounding board more or less from the beginning, and started making him do some of his paperwork as soon as he’d been regularly awake for more than a shichen at a time under the barely plausible claim that it was good for him to exercise his hands. Now that Lan Wangji was officially out of seclusion, Jiang Cheng had promptly shoveled even more work at him – despite the fact that they were supposedly at each other’s throats.

The Jiang disciples that had not been in the loop – most of them, to Lan Wangji’s mild surprise – adjusted quickly, especially after they noticed the long-suffering expressions on the faces of Jiang Cheng’s immediate deputies. They had remained wary for a while, possibly expecting Lan Wangji to seek to implement the Lan sect rules at any moment, but after a time he had managed to win their confidence through his efficient administration and respect for their customs.

He did…rather a lot, actually. He reviewed the sect’s accounts along with Jiang Cheng, managed certain negotiations, oversaw the continuing reconstruction efforts, reviewed submitted proposals –

All things that the Lan sect did as well, but which had never come to him before. Lan Wangji suspected that in many cases, they did not even come to his brother or his uncle, who were nominally in charge of such things; the Lan sect disdained such worldly affairs, while the Jiang sect embraced them.

Although while he was on the subject of being above worldly affairs, it occured to him that he had not had an opportunity to take Bichen out recently, and it would be good to do so. He would need to come up with some excuse to insist on Jiang Cheng accompanying him for a night hunt sometime soon, some reason that would stand up to scrutiny from the outside.

As for convincing Jiang Cheng himself, however, that would be no problem.

“We are going night-hunting soon,” he informed Jiang Cheng, who looked appalled by the very thought.

“You’re joking, right?” he demanded. “Do you know how much work we have to do? The yearly update with the dyer’s guild is –”

“Not for another two months, and preparation typically takes only two weeks.”

“Reconstruction –”

“Does not require constant supervision at this stage.”

“The – there’s training –”

Lan Wangji attempted to convey his feelings on the validity of that excuse entirely through his facial expression, and it must have worked because Jiang Cheng crumbled at once, grumbling to himself.

“Who’ll we leave the children with?” he tried. “Especially with Xuanyu being so new – oh, all right. It’s weak and I know it, you don’t have to give me that judgmental look of yours.”

“If Jiang Wanyin believes that his skills have gotten so rusty that he would be unable to keep up…”

“I’m going to break your legs,” Jiang Cheng hissed at him. “I’m going to – to – oh, wait, actually, there is a reason we can’t go just yet. We’re expecting honored guests!”

Lan Wangji arched his eyebrows.

“You wouldn’t have seen the report yet, it’s still on our desk,” Jiang Cheng said. “You know of the Baixue Temple, right?”

Lan Wangji looked askance, indicating that he had of course heard of the temple, a renowned place of learning, but that he presumed that that was not what Jiang Cheng meant and also that perhaps Jiang Cheng would like to get to the point at some time before their deaths from old age.

“Fuck you too,” Jiang Cheng said conversationally, having learned the nuances of Lan Wangji’s expressions by now. “It was attacked recently, and rumor has it that it was Xue Yang that did it. Yes, the same Xue Yang who did the Chang clan massacre, the one the Jin sect was protecting before they washed their hands of him.”

Lan Wangji frowned.

“They made it through with relatively minimal casualties,” Jiang Cheng assured him. “Out of luck, mostly – when Xue Yang disappeared before his trial, the Nie sect made sure word got out everywhere, and Lianfeng-zun, who might’ve quashed it, even helped spread them, instead. From what I understand, Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen returned to Baixue Temple to make sure it wouldn’t be attacked over their part in Xue Yang’s initial arrest, as it later turned out to be - truly, evil is mundane and predictable. They led the defensive efforts and saved many lives.”

Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen –

Lan Wangji had heard Jiang Cheng speak of them before, of course. Rogue cultivators of considerable fame, who had refused all offers to join any of the sects, major or minor, but instead professed a desire to start a cultivation school of the old-fashioned sort, valuing affinity and merit over blood relation.

Not that that was what had caught the attention of Lan Wangj, or of Jiang Cheng for that matter.

Rather, it was said that Xiao Xingchen was a disciple of Baoshan Sanren, the famous immortal that lived secluded on the mountain. That made him Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle, and both of them were shamelessly interested in all things relating even tangentially to Wei Wuxian, however indirectly.

Jiang Cheng had sent several invitations for a visit back when the Chang clan disaster had happened. None had been accepted, which was probably all for the best – he had had to stop inviting them on account of how they’d angered the Jin sect over the matter.

(It had caused Jiang Cheng no end of nightmares, the feeling of complicity in a massacre just like the one that had destroyed his own sect sending him into a spiral of self-hatred, questioning his own morality and righteousness, wondering if his ancestors were judging him and finding him wanting, wondering if Wei Wuxian was –

It had not been a good time, a thankfully temporary reversion back to the bad days closer to the start. But Jiang Cheng was better now.)

“Why accept an invitation now?” Lan Wangji asked.

“They’re planning on hunting him down, I think, and having learned a little bit from last time, they want to get as many allies on board as possible in advance,” Jiang Cheng said, and shook his head at the depressing need to account for worldly politics when seeking to live a righteous life. A lesson hard-learned, for both of them. “They wrote to me first, this time. In return, I plan to indicate that they are welcome to come to the Lotus Pier to try to convince me – we’ll agree to help them, of course, but it’ll be nice to share a meal with them. Maybe some stories.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said. “And entertainment, of course.”

Jiang Cheng looked at him.

“We should take them night-hunting,” Lan Wangji elaborated, and Jiang Cheng scowled at him.

“There are oxen less stubborn than you! Donkeys! Geese!”

Lan Wangji was not a goose. A crane, perhaps, like Lan Sizhui – gentle and graceful and well-educated, with a sharp beak that most people overlooked.

He suspected Jiang Cheng would argue instead for the goose.

“I will write to my brother,” he said, opting to change the subject. “Xue Yang is a sensitive subject for his sworn brothers, as you know. It would be best to prepare him should they resume their fight with each other.”

“Oh, that’s just what we need,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Lianfeng-zun and Chifeng-zun at each other’s throats again…did I tell you about the series of small but extremely irritating disasters that happened that time I was at Koi Tower? The room flooding, the too-thick incense, the – the thing with the cat –”

“I also recall you coming back from a night-hunt with Chifeng-zun with an expression suggesting that someone had put the fear of death into you, yes,” Lan Wangji said.

“It’s Chifeng-zun. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding any circumstances where he could have the same talk with you!”

Lan Wangji did not deny it. As he was not a sect leader, he could avoid such things with much greater ease than poor Jiang Cheng – who was glaring again.

“You should try harder to get along with him,” he remarked, and Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed even further. “You have many things in common –”

“Lan Wangji. You are, as A-Yuan’s father, permitted to set up as many playdates for him as you’d like. You are not permitted to do the same for me.”

Lan Wangji nodded, indicating that would give that all the consideration it deserved, namely none.

Jiang Cheng made a sound not unlike the whistling of a boiling pot.

Lan Wangji decided that a triumphant but timely retreat was appropriate.

#mdzs #lan wangji #jiang cheng #mo xuanyu #my fic #my fics #delight in misery

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supremeinlilac · 3 years

Text

Into the light (I'll hold you)

Pairing: Coven!Cordelia Goode x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Word Count: 2557

Warnings: Self doubt, angst.

A/n: Canon divergent, H*nk doesn't exist and Delia's acid attack never happened, although she has still had the Sight previously. Was saving this fic but fuck it, I'm posting it now😌

Halloween.

The night of eerie suspense and the lingering sense of being watched. You enjoyed the days festivities when you were younger, skipping excitedly door to door under a white sheet with your friends.

This Halloween would be your second at Miss Robichaux’s, the first you’d all gone out to a party and got a little too drunk, returning to an irritated Ms Goode. It had been the first time you’d kissed her, and she’d rejected you because of the state you’d been in.

Still, it was the night that had started the path of your relationship with the headmistress.

You loved Halloween.

This year, Fiona Goode, reigning Supreme, returned to the academy. You were instantly weary of her, due to the fact Delia never liked to bring her mother up in conversation of her past. When you’d overheard her telling your girlfriend that she was wasted potential in the school, a prickle of icy anger called the hair at the nape of your neck to stand rigid.

You and the rest of the witches had decided to stay in, watch films and play games. It wasn’t often that everyone could get together to celebrate an evening where witches were celebrated, so they wanted to make the most of the friendly atmosphere that surrounded them. It never lasted long in the coven.

Fiona went out to a bar, her witches hat crooked atop her head and you found yourself glaring at her as she left. The woman alit a flame inside you, one that easily spread and engulfed your powers, fire licking hotly at the tips of your fingers and threatened to overpower you.

Cordelia had stayed behind with you, much to her mother protest, to have a quiet night while the rest of the hubbub would be concentrated in the living room. You were both wrong to think that there’d be no disturbances.

The shattering of glass fractured the silence in your shared room with Cordelia. She’d been braiding your hair, an intimacy that the pair of you rarely found time to do together. She hummed the song you were sung as a child, a habit that she’d picked up in your time at the coven, the action now second nature. It no longer only served to soothe you, but now it brought her comfort too.

Her fingers stilled in your hair, head snapping to the door. You heard a couple of loud thuds and shouts, and then her hand was clutching yours protectively.

“Hey Cordelia?” You heard Queenie shout up the stairs, “you best look outside.”

She was off the bed like it had burned her, drawing the curtains back to show the slow advance of the people outside. You heard her shaky inhale, before she fisted her hands in her trousers and turned to you.

“It’s just the locals. Playing tricks on us, you know how Madison likes to irritate them the rest of the year. Lord knows we’re not the best neighbours,” her face looked serious but the waver in her voice betrayed her. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than you.

It had been a blur after that, shouting and running, and Cordelia slipped out of your grasp. You’d been fighting, had a kitchen knife pressed into your hand by, Zoe, maybe? No. It had been one of the other girls.

They wouldn’t die, those zombies, if that’s even what they were. You’d slashed at a part of them that they shouldn’t have been able to get back up from. Yet it did, limbs flailing and reaching spindly towards you.

Knocked to the ground, you think you must have passed out. But not before you’d seen Cordelia trying to defend the house, eyes furious and scared and dark.

You remembered the purr of the chainsaw, the splatter of blood. The silence that hung after.

The next day you found Cordelia sat at her usual bench in the greenhouse, frows furrowed in concentration as she mixed ingredients with the gentle crack of test tubes and vials. You could see the anguish behind hooded eyes, it was clear that she’d been restless last night, down here long past when everyone else slept.

You had seen her from your window as you’d been drawing the curtains the night before, standing over the pile of haphazardly thrown bodies of the zombies. You weren’t sure how long she’d spent there, not wanting to disturb her until now.

She’d also been absent at both breakfast and dinner, with the excuse of paperwork, but you could see through the thinly veiled lie. You brought her a sandwich and a yogurt, setting them down on a bench before pulling a chair up beside her to watch her work.

Cordelia could mix potions and restore plants without thinking, her craft a lovingly perfected dance in which he moved around the greenhouse with practised ease, plucking vials off the shelves and balancing glassware in steady hands.

Her hands shook. Slightly, almost unnoticeable was the small tremor but it indicated her unease. There was blood still crusted under her fingernails.

You softly coaxed her to put the glass down with fingers around her wrists, guiding her to look at you before lazily lacing your fingers together. She whispered a greeting with a small smile, almost as if she hadn’t registered your presence until you’d touched her.

“I feel like I failed everyone. My girls.” Her voice cracked languidly, eyes falling to where your hands joined on her lap, her nails scraping at your skin nervously. “How can I be headmistress when I cannot protect you all?”

“It’s not your job to do it all alone.” You reminded her gently, thumb brushing over whitened knuckles, following the dip and contour of her skin. “Cordelia.”

A single droplet of shimmering water does not sink a ship. A single cloud cannot shield the sun. A single parent could spend years doubting their worth, unaware that it takes a village to raise a child.

No single person can bear the weight of the world’s troubles without crumbling.

Not even Cordelia, whom you thought could harness the sun if she willed it, could do everything herself. It simply was an unrealistic expectation that her mother had used to weigh her down with.

“Look at me, baby. You are not alone, okay?”

When her head lifted slowly, the light caught the water in her eyelashes, diamond tears shimmering and rolling down the curve of reddened cheeks. You were quick to coo at her, hand coming to cradle her face so you could lean to kiss them away, salt on your tongue.

She shook her head, refusing to look at you and you felt hopeless, like a bystander on the site of an accident. As much as you tried to couldn’t get close enough to her to help, to comfort her as she needed. Running in a dream, tripping over a mere breath and wading through syrup as you tried to escape.

“I’m a failure.”

You found yourself shaking your head, the phantom of a protest falling from your lips, how could Cordelia think that.

“Everything that Fiona says is true.” She continued, head falling into her arms on the desk. Your hand rested on her back, a gentle reminder of the comfort you could give her if only she asked for it. If only she would accept it when you would give it to her anyway.

“I don’t belong here.” Whispered from under her hair which hid her.

Cordelia didn’t realise her own worth, and you wondered if anyone ever truly does.

Does the night sky know its beauty? Or does it envy the blue of the day? Does it wait for the sun to kiss its head and grant it eternity. The night sky is rich with light, if it would only look deep enough within itself to find it. Burning stars and planets reflecting the sun, a kaleidoscope of colour on an ebony canvas.

Cordelia would often look at pictures of her absent mother when she believed to be alone. She was secretly envious of Fiona’s effortless graceful command and hold that she had over the whole coven. She believed her own magical abilities to be inferior to that of the Supreme’s, but it was an unfair comparison, for a Supreme would always persist.

She thought that it meant hers weren’t strong enough, scared for eventualities like the previous night, that she would fail at the role of protector. But she hadn’t failed, she’d fought just like you and Zoe, and it was just the luck of the draw that Zoe’s fear would trigger her Power Negation.

But Cordelia held such raw natural, burning potential that you’d habitually find yourself staring as she practised spells. Eyes following the deft flow of her fingers as she’d manipulate movement. She’d had the second sight within her, so at least on a subconscious level she must know her power.

“You belong here. And look around you, look at this place. Yourgreenhouse.”

“You made it into what it’s become. It’s you.” You spoke, letting yourself spin to appreciate all the work she’d put into this place, into herself.

Cordelia lifted her head, hair falling from her eyes and crowning her face as she followed your gaze to the hanging planters, the glass vials. To the floor that she’d swept only days ago, leaves starting to litter the stone again.

She watched you run fingertips over the exposed brick on the wall, your attention solely on her work around you. She could see the adoration in the iris’ of your eyes, alight with your honesty. You gaze returning, always, to her as you walked to her.

Tentatively, you reached out for her. Was she yet ready to accept your help, your love as you wanted to give it to her?

Still unsure, Cordelia shied away from your comforting touch, head returning to her hands.

“You don’t have to live behind Fiona’s words anymore.” You whispered into her temple, as if straight into her mind.

Sometimes it is easier to live in the shadows than to confront those who cast them.

She’d spent her whole life cowering in Fiona’s shadow, growth and development stunted from the lack of light. Self-belief fractured into a gaping crack.

She’d been trapped, dark and alone with a mother figure who didn’t love her in a way she understood how to be loved. They both loved each other then, and ove each other now, but sometimes mere love isn’t enough. It isn’t consistent enough to be safe. You can love someone and still hurt them.

You had spent time working on her confidence, creeping back into the light and into herself again. Breaking down the thoughts that had grown to immobile threatening walls that only served to block the light more.

All it had taken was one night of Fiona being back for all that progress to retreat back to where they’d been hidden. Cordelia had urged you then to back away, to leave her and grow by yourself, that she was only holding you back.

But you gritted your teeth and grinned in the face of the devil. You weren’t scared of the dark. And you’d be damned if you were leaving it without your girlfriend. Even if you had to start right back at the beginning, you’d help her to heal.

“You could be the next Supreme.” You urged, pulling her head from where it rested on the table, forcing her to look in your eyes and see your honesty.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true.” She begged, vision hazed by tears.

“But it is true, Delia. You’re so powerful.” You pressed, eyes conveying your severity like your voice couldn’t. Willing her to believe.

You reached to brush the tears that clung to her eyelashes before they fell and stained her face. A lingering kiss to her lips, the feeling of her lower lip wobbling between your own. In that moment, you could feel her fragility.

You didn’t want to push further, knowing that she may never truly believe in her full potential like you did. Instead, you pushed yourself to feet and bounced in front of her. She looked up in confusion, eyes still full with tears that caught the light, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss them away again. They didn’t deserve to dampen her skin.

“Dance with me?” You asked, standing and offering a hand the way you’d so often seen in movies.

A shy smile formed on the headmistress’ lips, cheeks pink and the tips of her ears flushed as she allowed herself to be pulled from her seat. Into the shine of the moonlight, which shone beams of liquid silver through the glass onto the hard stone and the soft of Cordelia.

Your arms secured themselves around her waist while hers stroked the back of your neck. Moments like this made you wonder if perhaps the cliché’s people told you about love had been true. Maybe this could be forever. It always felt like forever when you were in her arms.

You swayed to phantom music, slow and deliberate, soft touches and kisses on bare shoulders. You felt like even a whisper would shatter the perfect peace you’d enveloped you both in, sending ripples of doubt over the sheer water and to Cordelia again.

The moon felt like perfect company in that moment, like a third person, watching and waiting. A witness to the silent change.

Cordelia pressed her forehead to yours, her fingers splayed through the hair at the back of your head, holding you close. You could see the depth of her eyes, searching for the lie in yours that wasn’t there to find. You truly believed that she was the next Supreme, she had to be.

“Say something.” She breathed, hand on your waist dancing under the hem of your top, cold fingers on warm skin.

“Like what?” You asked, pulling back momentarily so you could smile at her. The hand that was behind your head tucked hair behind your ear and brought your hand from her shoulder so she could press lips to your knuckles. The ridge of bone under the soft of her skin and then she was hugging you again.

“Anything, I just want to hear your voice.”

So you told her about yourself. Stories she’d never heard and memories you’d thought you’d forgotten. Whispers of your past shared with your future.

She nuzzled her chin into the crook of your neck and listened, breathing deep the smell of your perfume that clung, lingering to the collar of your clothes.

A laugh.

Rippling up your throat at reminiscing a memory, vibration muffled against her ear at your jaw, and Cordelia swore that she could feelyour emotions. Truly feel you, and she realised that you couldn’t lie to her. Couldn’t will yourself to say something untrue just to still the aching beat of her heart within her chest.

You couldn’t make yourself want to mend her. You didn’t want that. You wanted to help her heal. Heal from her past that held less joy and laughter than yours did.

You wanted to help her create memories of her own, just like this.

Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Dancing in the dark under the glow of the patient moon.

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#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia goode x reader #american horror story #ahs coven #ahs fic

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

Text

Catch it (JJK x Reader)💜☁️👽

💚 Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

💚 Genre: Alien!AU, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, smut

💚 Warnings: Mentions of war, Reader is homeless, Jungkook is kind of clumsy, he hurts her accidentally sometimes, it’s never intentional though, slavery (in a sense), sweet boy Jungkook, no smut yet sorry haha PLEASE DON'T LEAVE I PROMISE ITS GOOD

💚 Summary: The world is literally ending. In a last effort to save earth, the race of Alcor demands humanities planet to be given into their care, as humans have been slowly killing the planet for way too long. But it’s humanity we’re talking about; they never give up without a fight. Even if they should.

Part of the Alien!Jungkook series!

Catch it | Hold it | Keep it | Save it | ???

The world had officially gone to shit.

Now, that was hard to overlook at this point; with almost every street in utter ruins, every corner looking like the worst slums at this point. Humanity had lost the war they had started; and the Alcorian people had by now begun to get rid of everything, building up things from scratch, and planting new trees and other plants.

They were healing the planet, as they called it.

You'd always despised the ways your own race handled things in the past, but this time you'd genuinely thought they would do the right thing. When you'd seen it on TV, the Alcorian government speech, you'd been surprised. You didn't really know what to think of aliens if you'd ever been asked in the past, Alcorian people already known to be existent by the time you'd been in school still. Now, years after finishing and living a life of a sole survivor on the streets, you'd never truly took time to think about what kind of appearance they may had. But now you knew- and it was nothing like you would've ever thought.

From what you've seen and heard they were tall- and had much more physical strength than a regular human. Their eyes had cat-like pupils designed for their naturally long nights on their homeplanet, giving them a distinctive look. The most common color seen had been green or a very dark brown- light brown, beige, or blue eyes were a rarity. The carried themselves with a certain kind of confidence that wasn't overbearing or too pushy. They simply knew they had the upper hand.

Humanity had been simply stupid.

Or narcisstic, as you liked to call it. The government had just been too scared to have power taken away like a toddler who'd throw a fit if it was time to let someone else play with a toy. But this wasn't kindergarden, and no one was playing around.

"Do you need help?" He'd asked, and you kept your hood down low, careful not to show your face and reveal anything to the Alcorian standing close to you. He had a nice voice, you'd noticed, but the fear still crept into your bones from the very real possibility of him taken you away, just like everyone else at this point. The war had been over for a little over a month by now, and Humans were not seen that much anymore. Everyone kept themselves hidden, stories about humans getting snatched and sometimes even eaten keeping you up at night like a child afraid of the dark. "Hey- are you okay?" He asked again. Considering your very small height in comparison to him, he probably mistook you for an alcorian child, and wanted to take you somewhere safe. They were known to be protective of their family after all.

At his touch, you slowly backed away, as he grew more and more suspicious of you. His hand reached for your hood, and that was the exact moment you decided to absolutely book it, and run off.

Sadly, he wasn't at all dumbfounded by that, and you should've listened to that weird drunk guy some weeks ago telling you that Alcorian's were hunters- they loved to chase and run. And oh well, with legs like that, he totally had all odds in his favor. You're only chance of escaping was the backside of an old grocery store, old vending machines serving as a hiding spot for you every time you needed one. Your small body always fit right between the two large machines, giving you a sense of security. Not now however, as he almost ran past where you'd squeezed yourself in, hood now completely down as your face- and most importantly eyes- were exposed to be seen.

“You’re- Human!” He exclaims with wide eyes, cat like pupils contracting in shock as you squeeze yourself tighter against the wall behind you, vending machines providing a bit of distance between you and the Alcorian. He’s too broad, too tall to fit where you’re hiding, but his arm is long enough to reach you as he grabs your jacket, pulling on the fabric as if to force you out.

“No, leave me!” You demand, eyes squeezing shut as tears begin to gather. This was it; your chase was over, and this dude would be having you for dinner. Or not- you didn’t really know exactly what Alcorians did with humans after they captured them. All you knew was that you were already small for human standards- these beings were taller and stronger by nature already.

“Sto-Stop being so complicated-!” He gritted our, still pulling on your clothing to get you out of your hiding spot, grabbing a bit more for good measure. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Why did he have to be so fucking strong? The gravel and dirt underneath your shoes made scratching sounds as he slowly but surely pulled you out of your spot, not letting you go even for a second, even as you'd tried to pry his hand off, scratching his skin and making him hiss. "There we- go!" He exclaimed, having gotten you out of your spot, holding you tightly against his chest as he held your wrists tightly, leg thrown over yours to keep you from struggling. You felt your tears fall down your cheeks, as you began to pathetically breath heavier, faster, huffing as you kept your eyes closed tightly. As if you'd wake up.

"Please don't hurt me." You whispered over and over pathetically, a begging tune to your voice as he simply.. hushed you? And wait, was that hand on your head.. petting you?

"There there.." He consoled, as if you were a scared cat he had to calm down. "I'm not gonna do anything okay?" He hummed, letting you calm down for a moment, before he spoke again. "I'm gonna let go of your legs now, okay?" He said, and you nodded with hesitation as he did just as he told you, slowly moving his leg, and softening the grip on your wrists as well. You stayed completely stiff in his hold, not daring to move as he continued. "You're not claimed." He stated, and you nodded again, not trusting your voice as you agreed to his statement. It was rare by now to find an unclaimed human just like that. Something in his jacket buzzed, making him groan a bit, before he slowly stood up. "I wish I had more time to make you feel a bit more comfortable but-" He started, before he pulled out a black.. collar? You instantly struggled again. He may looked nice, but he was an alcorian at the end of the day- you never knew what he'd do. "No no no please-" He desperately tried, looking around in frenzy as he held your hands again. "Look- its nothing bad okay? I just want to help you!" He urged on, making you furrow your brows at him. "I promise you, I really do- I'll take care of you okay? Just- trust me for a bit. You can decide after we took off okay?" He said, and you became a bit less hesitant.

"Take off where?" You asked, and he genuinely smiled at the fact that you spoke to him, before explaining.

"I'm taking you home with me." He said, and you grew uneasy again. "No, don't- don't look at me like that!" He whined, before he squatted down as if to make him seem less dangerous to you. "They're collecting. I've seen you around these parts for a couple of days, and I'd like you to have a chance of deciding where you want to be." He said, and you looked at him in question. But- as soon as he would claim you, you were his property. "I'm just going to put this on you for the duration of the flight, okay? I promise you, you can decide afterwards where you want to go. But we need to move now!" He urged, and you nodded. There was nothing keeping you on this rotting earth anyways, even though you'd still hoped to stay. He beamed at you, smile reminding you of a bunny as he carefully placed the collar around your neck, before taking your hand.

You whined a bit at his tight grip as he looked back, eyes contracting again at the sight of your angrily red wrists. He looked apologetic as he seemed to think, before he simply decided to pick you up instead, carrying you to wherever he was going. "Sorry, for uh.. I didn't mean to." He said, and you simply didn't answer, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you watched the familiar grocery store grow smaller the further away you went.

This really was the end, wasn't it?

"Little one?" A voice spoke, slowly awakening you from a nap you didn't even notice slipping into. You were still leaning against the body of that Alcorian guy who'd picked you up, warm body making you feel sleepy. You moved a bit to detach yourself, as you looked at him, for the first time in proper lighting.

He looked young but mature at the same time, with wide, brightly colored eyes. His dark hair was long and straight, while his face was slightly soft in its proportions. Lips pink and arched into a soft smile seemed to fit perfectly, just like the tiny beauty mark in the middle just underneath his lower lip. He was handsome.

"You can sleep in a second." He promised in a low voice, careful not to disturb other passengers as he looked out the window. "I just thought you.. might not want to miss this." He said carefully, unknowing if this would be a painful goodbye for you.

It wasn't as bad as you thought it would be.

You held onto his jacket a bit tighter as the shuttle roared to life, slowly gaining speed on the runway as it departed, earth and the city growing smaller, until clouds blocked the way. Jungkook watched you with a studying gaze, glad that he'd managed to get you onto the shuttle before departing. He'd found you a few weeks earlier, roaming the streets like a lost animal, as he studied you. You were nice and friendly towards other humans, and agile in escaping Alcorian police forces who searched the streets occasionally. Sharing food was never something you denied when asked, and he'd also watched with a hurting heart as your small amounts of belongings got stolen one night, leaving you with nothing behind.

He just.. had to do something.

Humans were always depicted as selfish creatures only knowing their own benefit, and he had to agree to a certain point; a lot of them were like that. It was understandable to a degree, but it also wasn't, considering that his race had only tried to help. They'd never intended to start a war.

"Whats your name?" You asked in a quiet voice, careful not to speak too loud, as he smiled at you.

"Jungkook." He replied. "Jeon Jungkook." He spoke as he tilted his head. "And yours?" He asked.

"Y/N." You answered, and he nodded.

"You can keep it, if you want to." He said, and you simply leaned into him, watching as you broke orbit, earth now far away. For some reason, you didn't know if you wanted to. There was no reason to keep it, if you were leaving your old life behind like that. He seemed nice, and friendly- a bit rough, but that was to be expected. For some odd reason, you didn't want to decide whether or not to stay with him or not. He'd claimed you, end of story. You didn't even notice that you had started crying until his hand began to run over your head again, shifting a bit to have you sit a bit more comfortably.

Maybe he wasn't so bad.

"And there we are." He exclaimed, setting you down for the first time after the flight once you'd both entered his living space. It seemed- oddly like a regular apartment, with rounded windows and furniture that looked similar to what you knew. You stood still, until he gently tapped your back a bit. "You can go explore a bit- I have to make a call real quick." He said, and you nodded, taking off your shoes before walking inside further, watching as Jungkook left to go into a different room. Alcorians and Humans were similarly developed and shared a lot of technology. It was surprising however how much alike but different at the same time things were. You went closer to the largest window, watching as cars sped by- or, where those planes? It wasn't easy to tell.

"A friend of mine will stop by in a moment." He explained from behind you, as he kept a small distance from you, as if to preserve your personal space. "Just to give you a quick check up." He said, and you grew a bit uneasy, as he suddenly tried to retract his statement. "You know, nothing bad! Just, you know, to make sure you're okay and in good health-" He said, before you spoke again.

"What.. Why am I here?" You asked, and his eyes widened at the realization on what you hinted at. The tips of his pierced ears grew a bit pink at that, as he scratched the back of his head.

"Not for that- promise, I'm not like that!" He said, before he sat down on his couch. "Like I said, I wanted to, you know, get you somewhere safe." He explained. "I work with.. a few friends. We're trying to help humans find compatible people here, to live with." He said, and you nodded, rather sitting down on the carpeted floor a bit away from him. You noticed however, how he said 'people', instead of owners. It made you feel less like a pet.

"So.. you're a rescue organization for.. humans." You stated, and he nodded.

"If you want to call it that, yes." He answered, before someone knocked at the door. You sat up a bit straighter at that, growing uneasy at the visitor. "Please stay calm okay? I promise he's a good guy." He said, before he left to open the door, another tall young Alcorian walking through the door after greeting him. He wore glasses, and his hair was a light sandy brown color, while his eyes looked dark. He spotted you and you slowly began to scoot backwards. Nop, the bag in this guys hands was clearly containing medical equipment, and you were not here for it. "Y/N- No, come back!" He called after you as you ran off to the nearest room, closing the door in a hurry as you frantically searched for a place to hide, choosing the underside of his bed as the perfect place. You could fit right underneath.

"..-rmal for her to react like that. They're usually scared." An unfamiliar voice spoke through the door. "Did you tell her why I would be here?" He asked, and the other voice you clearly by now deciphered as Jungkooks answered with a whine.

"I did, and she was fine with that!" He explained, before the door opened, voices now clearer. "Well, she was a bit scared but I thought that was normal." He admitted, as the stranger sat down near the door, Jungkook next to him as if to block your only way out. Jungkook tried to reach for you only to be held back by the other guy, making him whine at him. "Namjoon, I have to get her out of there!" He said, and the other guy, Namjoon, still pulled him back to sit down.

"You can't force her out like that.!" He scolded, and it got quiet after that for a moment.

You carefully peeked out from underneath the bed, only to be met with Jungkooks smile, and the strangers gentle face. You slowly crawled out of your hiding spot, still staying a safe distance away as you watched both warily. "Hello Y/N. I'm Kim Namjoon, I'm a medical practician majorly focusing on human health." He said, and you scoffed, making Jungkook look at you surprised. You seemed absolutely different from just moments ago with him.

"So you're a vet for humans." You simply said, and Namjoon merely chuckled.

"Feisty. But yeah, you can call it that if you want to." He answered, as you still kept your scowl. "So can you cooperate with me now, or will I have to use force?" He asked, and you became even more hostile, Jungkook stepping in.

"Namjoon no- we won't be using anything like that" He tried, but Namjoon didn't seem to listen as he watched you with an amused expression on his face.

"I'm not a pet." You stated, and Namjoon grinned.

"You're certainly behaving like one." He answered, and you scoffed again.

"Then you won't be too shocked that I will bite you." You said, and the man shook his head.

"You wouldn't be the first one. Your kind loves to be difficult." He said, and your expression got even darker, as Jungkook desperately tried to find a way to diffuse the situation.

"Is that why you like to have us for dinner?" You asked, and both of them looked at you with questioning eyes. "Or is it more fun to fuck us first and then use us as slaves?" You bursted out, standing up as Namjoon looked genuinely caught off guard.

"Is that what they say on earth?" He asked, and you huffed out at that, moving into the furthest corner of the room, needing space. "It definetely does explain the hostility." He mumbled to himself, as Jungkook stood up, walking closer to you, but stopping when you yelled at him to.

"Okay, okay, I'll stay right here." He said, sitting down on the floor a few steps away from you as you hugged yourself in a pathetic way to comfort yourself. This was all getting too much. "If you don't want him here, I'm going to tell him to leave, okay? We don't have to do this now." He said, and you looked between him and Namjoon, uncertain. You may didn't have to face it now, but you had to eventually, right?

"We don't do any of that to humans, by the way." Namjoon suddenly chimed in, as you looked at him. "It's true that humans are being claimed, but they are not forced to do that. Most do it to ensure their safety, others do it out of romantic reasons, and some do it for the thrill, yes." He said. "But no, we don't keep them as slaves, no, we don't use them just for sex, and we certainly do not eat them." He said the last part with an almost humorous expression as you grew shy.

Well, this was awkward.

"Can you stop being difficult now, and let me do my job?" He asked with a more gentle tone now, before you nodded. You didn't walk over to him, however, still not trusting him as you decided to instead crawl onto Jungkooks lap, who happily took you into his arms as you looked over his shoulder at Namjoon, almost as if to say 'fuck you'. "You know, he won't always be there to-" He started, but Jungkook turned around as if offended.

"I will!" He said, holding you like a precious toy he'd just been gifted. "I mean- if she want's to." He mumbled, before Namjoon moved closer, shaking his head with a smile as he started to take your temperature first.

It somehow felt as if he was belittling you. But for some reason, that was okay in some way, considering his bright smile every time he did it. It felt a bit weird at first, but now, after a few days, you felt almost at home with him. You didn't think about earth much, not wanting to spoil your mood while you were with him for that matter.

You were growing a bit more independent day by day however.

Still with his collar wrapped around your neck, since you wouldn't be allowed to roam the streets without one without getting stares left and right, you stopped at a grocery store.

Before leaving today, you had your first fight with the Alcorian.

"I'm not trying to keep you obedient Y/N, I'm trying to protect you!" He explained, trying not to get too riled up as he knew this could scare you.

"But you do! I can't do anything by myself, you're always hovering over me!" You said, and he looked at you in disbelief at that.

You felt so bad, still.

Now more than ever, as you were walking through isle after isle, every word more complicated than the next it seemed. You'd learned some words by now, but most were still a challenge- making it impossible for you to work things out by yourself without probably making a fool of yourself.

You left the grocery store after realizing you couldn't even pay for stuff since he was the one with the money, and it made you feel frustrated. You squatted down near the entrance, calling Jungkook pathetically.

"Little one? Are you okay?" He asked, as if you didn't just fight minutes ago. You sniffled, and he became even more concerned. "Are you still at the grocery store? I'm coming, just wait-" He said, as you chuckled a bit.

"I'm fine Jungkookie I just.. I'm sorry." You explained, as you heard a door close on the other side of the line. "I was horrible to you." You said, but he cut you off.

"Let's talk when I'm there, okay?" He said, and you agreed, waiting for him patiently, trying to ignore the stares and looks you got, some Alcorian kids even pointing at you before getting scolded by their parents.

"I'm sorry." You said immediately as his figure approached you, already opening his arms to welcome you in his hug. "It was uncalled for, I was so mean, please don't hate me-" You said into his chest, as he chuckled.

"What're you doing little one?" He asked with a gentle smile as he looked down on you.

"Apologizing?" You said, and he smiled.

"I know, I'm familiar with that concept." He said, before continuing. "I mean, why? You were just stating your opinion on things." He said, and you felt even worse now.

"But I was mean, and rude to you! I shouldn't be so ungrateful, after all you've taken me in, you let me live with you, you provide me food and shelter, you keep me safe-" You began, as he chuckled again, ruffling your head.

"I do that because I want to. I'm responsible for you." He said, and you nodded.

"I'm sorry." You said again, and he continued smiling. "I managed to find some stuff like flour and Milk, but-" You started, as his eyes widened in wonder.

"You could read that?" He asked in disbelief, as you nodded.

"Yeah, but that's about it. I only picked up on a few words like caramel and stuff-" You explained, as he suddenly squeezed you into his arms, making you whince a bit at his strength. He immediately let go at the sound.

"Sorry sorry, it's just- whoah, my little human is so smart!" He said, genuinely excited over the mere fact that you could read a few words. "It took Taehyung Months to learn a couple of phrases, and here you are, already reading on your own!" He said, and you chuckled a bit at that. Taehyung was a human claimed by Namjoon and his partner Seokjin, who also had a second human by the name of Jimin. You'd met them for a bit prior, but hadn't had a true conversation with them yet. "Lets go then." He said, taking your hand into his as he walked into the store again with you.

Jungkook had slowly learned to hold your hand less tightly than he would usually do, his strength the reason for almost all of Namjoons visits to your now shared home. He didn't mean to hurt you, but it happened occasionally- and you always forgave him. He couldn't help it, and it was almost sweet to see him so upset over it straight after.

"Thats almond milk, right?" You asked, pointing at a carton with a label you thought said the words 'almond milk' on it. Jungkook beamed almost proudly.

"Yep!" He exclaimed, as he kept a hand on your back, a more comfortable gesture to show you he was by your side than holding hands. It was less likely for him to hurt you that way accidentally. "Let's get you something sweet too." He said with a smile, as you smiled back- for the first time, completely comfortable.

"Jungkook?" You asked hesitantly, as you walked up behind the couch, making him turn around.

"Hm?" He wondered, turning the TV volume down lower. "What is it little one?" He asked, as you suddenly placed a couple of papers down onto the small table in front of him. He took them wordlessly, before he suddenly jumped up, head thrown towards you as his eyes were wide open, catlike pupils staring at you as they glazed over. "You-how-" He stuttered, as you swayed on the spot a bit shyly.

"I talked to Namjoon about it the other day. He helped me get all the paperwork stuff done since I can't read much still.." You said, and Jungkook walked over to you, picking you up as he twirled you both around, making you giggle.

The bold letters on the front page clearly reading;

'Official documents for legal human ownership.'

You wanted to be his.

"Do alcorians kiss?" You randomly asked one day, laying on Jungkooks lap as he suddenly looked down towards you.

"We- uhm.. we do." He said, before swallowing the piece of sweets he was eating. "Why- why do you ask?" He wondered, and you simply shrugged.

"I kinda want to kiss you." You said.

And he almost choked.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #Alcoria AU

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dahliavandare · 3 years

Text

Too Sexy For My Shirt (I Wanna Love You)

Wreck the Bard

Rated: M

Prompt: lingerie/taking off clothes

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier

Words: 1062

Jaskier had thought Geralt understood it was a date. He had said, when he asked, ‘come to the dinner as my date’. He had brought flowers when he picked him up (sunflowers because of their mild, pleasant scent and how they reminded him of Geralt’s eyes. And because he figured they probably wouldn’t wilt if Geralt didn’t get them in water until after he got home). He had been so bold as to kiss the back of Geralt’s hand when they announced his up-and-comer award. He had even, on the way home, played Geralt the first song he’d written for the album and said it was inspired by how he makes Jaskier feel.

But here he is, almost a week later, picking Geralt up from work for their usual pizza night, and from the other room he overhears Geralt dejectedly explaining to one of his coworkers that it’s not like that; the album Jaskier was getting recognized for was full of gay love songs so he HAD to bring a man as a date and Jaskier is not currently seeing anyone.

No shit Jaskier’s not dating anyone - he wants to date Geralt! He gave up on having other romantic relationships a decade ago because everyone paled in comparison to his best friend, and he had had to put a stop to his casual hook-ups a few years ago too (he had accidentally moaned Geralt’s name while the last fellow was sucking him off, and the man had immediately stopped and told him it was rude to call out the wrong name during sex, and positively cruel to say it with the kind of tenderness Jaskier just did when he couldn’t drum up a tenth of that enthusiasm for the person actually in front of him. It was an impressively eloquent speech, and all the more impactful because the fellow had delivered entirely from his knees.)

Later that night he asked Geralt, casually (as casual as a sequined ball gown), whether he was seeing anyone. Jaskier had fantasized that Geralt would lean forward and flirtatiously purr that he was planning on seeing Jaskier in his bed that night. Realistically, he hoped that Geralt would raise an eyebrow and state that the two of them were dating. What actually happened was that Geralt stared intently at his current pizza slice and said “No.”

This would not do! He had gotten up the courage to ask! He had taken Geralt on a date! During which Geralt had smiled repeatedly! Geralt was not allowed to not realize it had happened!

Jaskier came up with a new plan and worked the whole next week to get it ready.

He invited Geralt over to his apartment. He told him they could probably go to the rock climbing gym after, but that he was working on something that he really wanted to show Geralt first and get his input. When his friend accepted, Jaskier had to hold in a victory dance. He’d secured the whole afternoon for if it went well, and they really could spend the afternoon rock climbing if it didn’t.

Everything was ready when Geralt arrived. Jaskier was wearing a ruffled tuxedo shirt and soft lounge pants. The pants weren’t actually his first choice, he’d been hoping to wear some obscenely tight jeans to emphasize his assets, but he needed to be able to MOVE.

With the rest of the furniture pushed against the wall, he directed Geralt to the chair he’d moved to the middle of the room.

“Why does it matter where I sit to hear a song?”

“Well it’s, there’s a dance. You’re not just listening, you’re watching the dance, and I need you in the right part of the room for when I do it or it won’t be right.”

Geralt grumbled but sat.

Jaskier queued up the remix he’d made. This was it, the moment of truth. He stood with his back to Geralt, one hand behind his head, the other arm straight up in the air. The music opened with the yowl of an electric guitar, he started bouncing his hip to the beat.

Da dudum! Da dudum! Da dudum! Da dudum!

I’m-

He spun around

Too sexy for my shirt

And started unbuttoning as he walked toward Geralt

Too sexy for my shirt,

So sexy it hurts

Pelvic thrusts!

I’m too sexy for Milan

He had reached Geralt- turn and circle the hips!

Too sexy for Milan, New York and Japan

Ok, now swing the leg over - good! Lap successfully straddled!

I hear you calling and it’s needles and pins (and pins)

Jaskier runs his hands up his chest while writhing.

I wanna kiss you but my senses tell me to stop!

And throw off the shirt!

I wanna taste you but your

Too sexy for my love

He backed up, inching his pants down as he went.

Too sexy for my love love

Hip pop! Hip pop!

Your mouth, so hot, your web, I’m caught

Kick off the pants!

Your skin, so wet, black lace, on sweat

Turn and show the thong!

Yeah on the catwalk, yeah, on the catwalk, yeah

I shake my little tush on the catwalk.

Shake the butt!

Well I don’t wanna break these chains

Back up toward Geralt again.

Burning deep inside my veins

Turn and throw the leg over

I wanna kiss you but your

Lean in towards his lips,

Too sexy for this song!

and FREEZE!

The music had ended. He was straddling Geralt’s thighs, dressed only in a sturdy black thong. Their lips were all of an inch apart. Neither moved.

He waited, hoping Geralt had finally understood, but his best friend was just staring at him, motionless.

Jaskier, panting slightly from the dance, asked, “What do you think?” trying not to act like the answer could destroy him.

“It’s…” Geralt rasped, his voice dry and husky, “not your usual thing. I don’t think the audience will expect it.”

“You are the audience,” Jaskier breathed, “The dance is for you.”

Geralt stared at him, slowly placing his hands on Jaskier’s bare, muscular thighs. “For me?”

Jaskier nodded. Geralt kissed him. Jaskier wrapped his arms around the other man’s neck while Geralt slid his hands up to his hips and guided him onto his lap.

It was, Jaskier would conclude when they finally came up for air, a very successful plan.

@whataboutthebard

#wreck the bard #watb #sept 12 #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt/jaskier #geraskier #lingerie #taking off clothes

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sweeethinny · 3 years

Text

Abstinence (M)

Summary: ''I told you, I don't know how to live without you anymore, it's like you're my drug and I'm an addict.”

"What a bad comparison." They laughed, Harry hugging her tighter. Ginny rested her head close to his collarbone, feeling entirely happy. She was so happy he was home.

"I know." Harry kissed her head. "But that's how I feel."

Harry and Ginny haven't had much time alone, until after being gone for three days, Harry comes back feeling abstinent from his favorite drug.

Notes: I wrote this for @blvnk-art's Smut Hinny Sundays, and hope you all like it I wasn't inspired by a specific art of hers, but by several I was also inspired by the song All The Time - Jeremih

AO3

-----

Ginny sighed as she got home, taking off her cloak and shoes, her feet tired after all those hours of practice, her arms sore too. Gwenog seemed to want to kill her now that she was back.

It was great to be back, Ginny was glad she had made that decision six months ago, but her body still wasn't used to all that burden of being a mother and playing Quidditch, and strength training was always the worst, leaving her more tired than usual and with even more pain in her arms.

At least, Ginny thought, Harry was staying at home more, which helped her not to spend all the hours she was away worrying about James and whether he was okay. The boy was staying part-time in day care - in the afternoon - and so far they hadn't had a problem with anything, James even seemed happier now that he was with other kids.

"Babe?" Ginny called, walking past their house which was silent, which was weird since James didn't seem to be a big fan of silence. But Harry didn't show up anywhere, all the lights in there were off, which Ginny assumed was because he'd already put James to sleep and was upstairs.

She was happy, thinking that maybe she could get a massage that night—or even something more.

Walking slowly up the stairs, afraid to make a noise, she arrived in front of James' room, smiling when she saw that Harry was sleeping sitting in the rocking chair, the little one lying on his arm, sleeping clutching his shirt. It was such a cute scene that Ginny thought her heart might melt, still unaccustomed, even after almost two years, to how Harry was such a lovely father.

He had become another man now that they had James, Harry was much more careful at work, and much more affectionate. Not that he hadn't gone before, but it looked like James had freed him from the fear of showing. Harry cried more easily, wasn't afraid to play and do childish things with Teddy and James, and let them teach him everything he didn't know. Like last week James had made Harry realize he needed to eat more slowly— "Swow, Daddy," James had said, and now he seemed a lot less anxious and rushed into eating.

Even more careful now not to wake her son, Ginny approached the chair, kissing Harry's forehead and shaking him slowly, just so he woke up and put James in his crib so they could go to bed together.

"Hi," Harry whispered, a faint smile on his lips. His face was a little scrunched up from the pillows, his cheeks red with heat, probably because he had lit the fireplace in the living room.

"Hi." Ginny gave him a quick peck. “Shall we go to bed?” She ran a hand over his face, pushing his hair out of his eyes and straightening his crooked glasses. He nodded, taking a deep breath and stretching his legs, looking at James who didn't move in his arms.

"He didn't want to leave me today." Harry stood up, looking worried as he laid his son on his own bed, but as always after he fell asleep, James made no sign that he was going to wake up. Little hands ran to grab the yellow blanket Hermione had given him, and Ginny covered him with the other blanket, not wanting him to be cold at night. She kissed his forehead and lifted the crib enclosure, thinking that soon that wouldn't be enough to stop James from getting out of bed.

'You were gone for three days, he missed you' Ginny reminded him, hugging Harry and resting her head on his chest, letting him drag her towards their bedroom, feeling finally at home now that he was there.

Harry had gone away to a conference in Spain, and it had been a long three lonely days where she had the bed all to herself - sometimes James would cry to stay with her through the night, seeming to realize that things weren't the same without his daddy there.

"I missed you guys too." Harry kissed her head. 'I need to take a shower.'

"Me too, Gwenog today seemed to want to kill us in practice, I even thought maybe she was punishing us for something... You know, she's crazy sometimes."

'I know. Robards was about to lose his hair at the conference, telling everyone he would go crazy if he heard one more lecture.” Harry went into their bathroom, turning on the shower and starting to undress. Ginny had missed that routine and intimacy.

She took off her clothes too, tossing them in the laundry hamper, their cold room making her skin crawl. "We have a party to go to on Saturday."

"A party?" Harry grimaced, stepping under the shower.

‘Yes, I promised we would. Sorry, there was no other way out.' She followed, re-embracing Harry and resting her head on his now bare chest, the water splashing between them, relaxing her muscles. "It's a fundraiser for an orphaned children's charity… It'll be quick, we'll stay for an hour or two, then we'll go back." She promised, giving him what she hoped was her best look. Harry sighed and nodded, tightening his arms around her, pulling their bodies closer together.

‘Okay, we will. But two hours at most.” Ginny nodded, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

"I missed you so much," she whispered, lifting her hands to cup his face, pulling him into a deeper kiss, never wanting to let go. Harry squeezed her hips, letting her feel his cock that was beginning to show signs of life.

The kiss started to get hotter faster than she expected, soon Harry had picked her up and pushed her against the cold wall, squeezing her waist tighter and thrusting his tongue deeper into her mouth, as if suddenly a key had turned inside him and Harry had been as hungry as she was.

Ginny pulled at his hair, moaning into his mouth and scratching at his scalp trying to make him as crazy as he was leaving her, his teeth playing with her lip and his hands going down to her ass and squeezing.

“Fuck, I missed this.” Harry moaned as she tightened her legs around him, her wet intimacy touching his already hard cock.

They hadn't had a lot of time to get laid now that James was older, the boy seemed to have the right timing to want his parents whenever they were too close to each other, either to pee or because he was bored and hunger. Ginny had already accepted that by the weekend they would be too tired to do anything but sleep, and that getting laid would have to be for weekdays, during the morning shower, a quickie before James woke up.

"Me too." Ginny thought she might lose her mind at any moment, almost screaming when his trained fingers touched her swollen clit, throwing her head back and biting her lip to keep the noises back.

"The last few days I felt like a fucking teenager thinking about you." Harry whispered in her ear, his thick voice making her moan. “Thinking of you on top of me, below, on the side, on all fours…” He continued, biting the sensitive skin of her neck. "As much as I love getting laid in the shower, I miss a bed."

"Yes, shit, Harry yes." Ginny would agree to flee this planet right now if he continued to touch her like that.

She didn't pay much attention to the next few minutes between him turning off the shower, applying a basic dry spell on their bodies, and walking into their bedroom, waking up only when Harry threw her onto the bed, looking like a hungry animal climbing on top of her, his mouth traveling all over her body, sucking and biting the inside of her thighs until it reached the top and licked her clit. All the tension from practice, the daily worries, everything, was gone when his mouth touched her there and did all those wonders to her.

Ginny still remembered the first time Harry had done that to her, that hot, muggy summer after the war, one sunny afternoon when Harry had taken her to her room, all nervous and anxious, saying he wanted to try something new. It was good, confusing, but good. But now, Merlin, now it was perfect. There were no toys that came close to what he did, all that erotic dance with his tongue, taking her to the peak and making her enjoy the delicious fall more and more.

Her throat went dry, her scream scratching as Harry sucked on her clit, his arms holding Ginny firmly in place, preventing her from moving any further.

She saw stars, can't wait any longer, thighs trembling as she began to come, trying not to scream too loudly so that nothing could stand in the way of them both.

"I feel like a new man," Harry said, wiping his beard and moving up to be level with her face, a naughty grin plastered across his face. "Making you come is the best thing in the world." He kissed her, but Ginny was still too much in the clouds to reciprocate in a very excited way, her body looking like jelly on the bed.

"I wish I could suck you back babe, but I miss you inside of me." Ginny muttered, biting his lower lip and moving down to kiss his jaw and neck.

'I don't care too much about it, I want to be inside you too soon' Harry moaned as she spun them around, taking advantage of the fact that he was too focused on her mouth on his neck, and Ginny snuggled into his lap, jerking him a little to buy time for herr body to be ready again. “Fuck, you're going to kill me.” His green eyes darkened, rolling in their sockets.

"Don't die before you fuck me." Ginny chuckled as he moaned once more, her hand tightening a little more at the base of his dick as Harry liked, already sensing she was almost ready.

"No, not in a million years." He arched his back, biting his lip and seeming to try hard not to get carried away before they even started. "I feel like an abstinence junkie."

"I'm glad my pussy has that effect on you." She blinked at him who admired her as if Ginny were a Goddess. She felt so desired when he looked at her like that.

She couldn't take it anymore, she lifted her hips, adjusting to take him inside her, moaning in satisfaction at the feel of Harry opening her, needing to lean against his chest so she wouldn't fall once she was fully seated. That was one of her favorite positions, he touched her in that delicious spot that made Ginny lose consciousness and be taken by fire.

"Fuck." Harry squeezed her hips to keep her from moving, closing his eyes as if in pain, his back arching on the bed. 'Fuck, you feel so good.' Ginny tensed her muscles as she'd learned in that magazine she read in her gynecologist's office, and Harry seemed to lose whatever sanity was left in him, moaning loudly and still clenching his hands, almost to the point of hurting her.

"Like it?" she asked, a satisfied smirk on her face, even though it had taken her out of her orbit as well. Harry nodded, finally letting her move.

"So good," he muttered, finally opening his eyes and staring at her, the green iris making her blush. His hands moved from her hips to her breasts, pinching and massaging her sensitive nipples, and Ginny nearly lost her rhythm and fell on top of Harry with the teasing.

Neither of them could say much more, Ginny quickened her movement, interspersed with the contractions that made her and Harry moan and lose their minds more and more, each time feeling closer to coming again. His trained hands roamed her body, to her nipples, and then to her sensitive clit, playing just enough to make her feel pleasure and not pain.

Ginny thought she would go crazy if she didn't come soon.

Harry looked the same, because suddenly he couldn't wait any longer, squeezing her hips and lifting his, rushing his thrusts and fucking her as if it made him come alive. She didn't care too much, because she felt the same way.

It wasn't long before they both came, Ginny bent down and captured Harry's lips before he made too much noise and woke James, kissing him to keep himself sane, her nails firmly on his shoulders as that electric shock took over her body, the ripples making her lose control.

"I love you," she whispered, feeling Harry pull out of her and his cum trickle out. They would deal with that mess in a little while, Ginny needed to breathe first.

"Me too." Harry looked the same mess as her, body sweaty and arms trembling, he smiled at her. ‘I'm glad to be home again, not having you to sleep at night is unbearable.’

"Just to sleep?" Ginny joked, looking at him like he was still that 16 year old boy she was madly in love with, feeling a lot of new things and not being able to go to sleep without smiling.

'For everything. I told you, I don't know how to live without you anymore, it's like you're my drug and I'm an addict.”

"What a bad comparison." They laughed, Harry hugging her tighter. Ginny rested her head close to his collarbone, feeling entirely happy. She was so happy he was home.

"I know." Harry kissed her head. "But that's how I feel."

#smuthinnysundays #hinny #harry x ginny #harry and ginny #hinny headcanon #my fic

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riddlecrux · 3 years

Text

Miserable together, happy apart: a dive into Elain and Lucien's relationship

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. Due to the fact that this topic is connected with a raging shipping war, I would like to make an important note at the beginning of this (probably) long comparison post. This meta will be touching subjects such as trauma, forced and unhealthy relationships, being uncomfortable around the other person, and enforced feeling of duty. On that note, it's anti Elain and Lucien relationship.

The starting point of the whole relationship and mating bond begins in ACOMAF, when Lucien contributes to Archeron sisters being kidnapped - leading to them being Made. I'm very concerned with the way how this fandom seems to collectively forget about the trauma that Elain went through when she was pushed inside the Cauldron. After ACOSF we are left with the idea that being Made wasn't pleasant - on the contrary, it was horrible and scary, it left Nesta with psychological scars and mental barriers. So why are people forgetting that, in fact, it was Elain who undergone the same terrifying experience first? SJM had described this whole situation very vividly and painfully detailed. It was there to show us that both Elain and Nesta went through something disturbing and traumatizing. That's why I would like to start with a notion of TRAUMA:

"Elain’s foot hit the water, and she screamed—screamed in terror that hit me so deep I began sobbing."

Feyre is there to witness her sisters being shoved into Cauldron and one can only imagine how terrifying it was to observe such a thing. However, there is no amount of words to describe how utterly frightening it was for Elain to be pushed into the unknown. She was the first one, an experiment for everyone to see.

"More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water. And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown. Her legs were so pale—so delicate. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them bare."

Elain was a proper lady. She was the one who went along with the prevailing etiquette and rules. Feyre notices Elain's bare skin and how she doesn't even remember when was the last time she saw so much of it in the broad daylight. Elain was modest, she followed the social obligations and we as readers are presented with the fact that all her principles are being violated in front of these strangers and people she knew from before.

"Elain was still shivering on the wet stones, her nightgown shoved up to her thighs, her small breasts fully visible beneath the soaked fabric. Guards snickered."

She was let out in the open after such a traumatizing event. Just after being Made, the first thing she experiences is another form of trauma. She is involuntary stripped bare in front of males, her proper upbringing and modesty ruined as they openly laugh at her nakedness. It's another traumatic event, not even a moment after her whole human life was taken away from her.

"As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain. She cringed away from the coat, from him—"

It's not surprising that she acted that way. He is yet another male who appears out of nowhere, comes at her when she is in a very vulnerable position. Not to mention, that he is connected to the fact that she and Nesta were kidnapped and used as hostages. He plays a role in her trauma, a trauma that is still happening around her. Elain is subjected to watch her older sister going through the same thing she went through.

"Lucien’s hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, “You’re my mate.”"

I would say that it wasn't a good thing to say at that moment. It's yet another brick in the wall of traumas that Elain just went through. She lost her human life, she was Made, she lost her human fiance, was kidnapped and used as an experiment, ridiculed due to her nakedness and vulnerability, watched her sister being shoved into the Cauldron. Now she is presented with the fact that she was stripped off of her free will, and she still doesn't have freedom of choice. The lack of choice is evident, she just doesn't let it fall upon her as the trauma she had just endured was too great to even imagine how that declaration could shake her already broken heart.

“From my sister’s stories. Her friend.” “Yes.” But Elain blinked slowly. “You were in Hybern.” “Yes.” It was all he could say. “You betrayed us.”

Elain is aware of the fact that he was a part of her trauma. He was there when she got kidnapped and watched her being Made. She acknowledges the fact that he is partially responsible for what has happened to her and her sister. Not only Elain but Lucien as well. Lucien is also very much aware of the fact that he had contributed to her pain and hardship. Those feelings are also very prominent in the way he approaches her and behaves around her. The knowledge that she is that way because of his mistake.

FORCED RELATIONSHIP:

Both Elain and Lucien find themselves forced to "be" together. It wasn't a natural thing that happened between them, not a healthy type of bond snapping in its place. They were put together because of the Cauldron's decision.

She was nothing like Jesminda. Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she’d been born into. She had teased him, taunted him—seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn’t wanted anything but her. She’d seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been … thrown at him.

Even Lucien, who had loved and lost his previous lover acknowledges the fact that it is something that both of them didn't want. Their bond essentially stripped both of them of their free will. They hadn't chosen each other, they were just put together in a fickle decision of The Cauldron. His previous love story signalizes that Lucien also wants to be chosen, wants to be loved by someone who decided that he is the man that the other person wants to love and spend their life with him.

“I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.” And a whole lot of nothing.

Lucien has also his own issues - family feud, the fact that his friend betrayed him and in the end, it was him who did the same. He has troubles on his mind that are concerning. He's self-conscious in front of Elain because as Lucien is a reminder of her trauma - she is a reminder of his biggest mistake and another painful ending on his part. She's a living proof of his betrayal, how he went against his common sense and stabbed his friend, Feyre, in the back by bringing her sister into the scene.

The words were a rasp as he instead said, “I know. I’m sorry.” She did not love him, want him, need him. Another male’s bride. A mortal man’s wife. Or she would have been.

He is aware of the fact that Elain doesn't feel anything for him, that she was promised to another and she had planned her life with that person. Just like him in the past - it was his choice to love, want, and need Jesminda. As he's trying to keep his composure the feelings of the bond swirl around, yet Lucien still understands that both of them ended up with something they didn't want.

“When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.”

Even though they were "blessed" with this bond, the thread of it is weak and very unlike the other ones in SJM universe. As if it wasn't working properly - they both do not complete each other. Few pages before Elain says that she can hear Feyre's and Nesta's heartbeat and yet her mate can't hear hers? How is that possible? Also Lucien doesn't understand Elain - he sees her as someone who is devastated by her ruined human life, which is true, but right we as readers know by now that Elain was suffering because nobody seemed to realize what was wrong with her. Their first meeting doesn't spark hope for their future. It only showcases how wrong they both are for each other, two wounds plastered against each other.

BEING UNCOMFORTABLE AROUND EACH OTHER: Sadly both Elain and Lucien are pushed together by Feyre and her little meddling - which isn't something that they both want to undergo.

It was the most uncomfortable thirty minutes I could recall. (...) Pretending, while Lucien and Elain sat in stilted silence by the dim fireplace, an untouched tea service between them.

Even Feyre admits that a previously arranged get-together was a mistake. Because Lucien and Elain are wary of their presence around each other, they constantly remind each other's traumas and painful memories. Elain can barely stand his presence and Lucien is aware of that fact - the only thing that keeps him trying to break that barrier is their bond.

She rose to her feet, and Lucien shot to his. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “What—what was that?” Mor put a hand on my knee to keep me from rising, too. “It—it was a tug. On the bond.”

Even their mating bond isn't a thing of comfort. They can't navigate through it, both of them uncomfortable because of their proximity. Lucien feels as if he has to repay his debt towards Elain, however, neither of them wants to close the distance. Their wounds are still fresh, both of them not entirely healed. They are constantly rubbing their hurt on each other, meeting after meeting.

“Nothing,” he said, and again faced his mate. “I’m sorry—if that unsettled you.” Elain sidled toward Nesta, who seemed to be at a near-simmer. “It felt … strange,” Elain breathed. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.” Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry“.

He feels guilty all the time he's around her. He can't navigate through the mating bond as it doesn't work properly. It's uncomfortable, hurtful, and tense. Just like the relationship between them, it is not a good thing. They are basically strangers thrown at each other after seeing the other person at their lowest. It's not a coincidence that the bond between them is a mirror to their rough, strained relation.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.

Even with the bond, Lucien can't understand what Elain needs. They are basically strangers, yet the bond doesn't do anything to him in regards to helping her. They are constantly uncomfortable around each other, they try to avoid each other throughout the series because of the fact that they both don't want to be in this forced relationship. Lucien feels obliged to keep persuading her due to the bond, whereas Elain wants nothing to do with the said bond. They are in a maze of constant avoidance and unbearable proximity, which is very soundly described in the text and I would like to present some very important passages:

He hadn’t mentioned Elain, or his proximity to her. Elain had not asked him to stay or to go. And whether she cared about the bruises on his face, she certainly hadn’t let on.

Elain, at least, would be too polite to send Lucien away when he wanted to help. She was too polite to send him away on a normal day. She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left. As far as I knew, he hadn’t come within touching distance since the aftermath of that final battle.

No, as Elain took a step back, hand falling away from the doorknob, she revealed Lucien smiling tightly at us both. “Happy Solstice,” was all he said.

A sidelong glance toward Elain, swift and fleeting. “Both of you.” Elain said nothing, but at least she bowed her head in thanks.

“You’re welcome to stay for the night,” I said, since Elain certainly wasn’t going to. Lucien lowered his hands into his lap and leaned back in the armchair. “Thank you, but I have other plans.” I prayed he didn’t catch the slightly relieved glimmer on Elain’s face.

My sister rose to her feet. “I should get refreshments.” Lucien rose as well. “No need to trouble yourself. I’m—” But she was already out of the room.

I would love to bring attention to the fact that Lucien understands and realizes that their relationships will never work. He acknowledges it in the text, with his own words!

"Give her time to accept it.” “To accept a life shackled to me?”

“Spend time with her.” “I don’t think she’ll tolerate two minutes alone with me, so forget about two weeks.” His jaw worked as he studied the fire.

He shook off my grip and headed for the door. “I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes."

ELAIN'S AGENCY: Throughout ACOWAR, ACOFAS and ACOSF Elain tries to get away from the bond and in conclusion also from Lucien himself. She doesn't acknowledge their bond and time after time she runs away from the fact that they are bound to each other. The thing is, Elain, probably doesn't know how to break their bond - we as readers are reminded in Azriel's POV how important their mating bond is for the Night Court, which makes her a sort of political pawn. It is yet another thing that is taken away from her, which to be honest is a kind of a hypocritical thing coming from Rhys and Feyre. We know that Elain is timid, however after slowly recovering from her trauma she started to voice out her discomfort connected to Lucien and their forced relationship.

I knew I wasn’t truly angry with her, not angry with anyone but myself, but I said, “You couldn’t say a single word to him? A pleasant greeting?” Elain only stared at the steaming kettle as she set it on the stone counter. “He brought you a present.” Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

Lucien still makes her uncomfortable, he is a constant reminder of her trauma and lost life. Another thing is that Lucien doesn't even know her, doesn't see her which is something that is very important to her. Everything he does is based on the fact that he is connected to her via mating bond, not by his own free choice. Which, again, is presented to us in her own words in the text:

“No.” I blinked. “But he is a good male.” Despite our harsh words. Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit. “He cares for you.” “He doesn’t know me.” “You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.” Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.”

It doesn't help that the one who pushes her forward into this spiral of unbearable proximity with someone she hadn't chosen and don't want to be around, is her own sister. Yet, she stands her ground and sets boundaries. She is her own person and she wants to get to chose. ELAIN AROUND LUCIEN:

I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it. “Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment.

I found my sister in the kitchen, watching the kettle scream. “He’s not staying for tea,” I said.

I said to Lucien when we’d settled in the armchairs before the fire, Elain perched silently on the couch nearby.

I found my sister in the kitchen, watching the kettle scream. “He’s not staying for tea,” I said.

I said to Lucien when we’d settled in the armchairs before the fire, Elain perched silently on the couch nearby.

Elain had picked up the teacup, and now sipped from it without so much as looking toward him.

Elain only stared at him for a long moment. And any lucidity faded away as she shook her head, blinking twice (...).

He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap.

Elain now watched Lucien warily. Blinking every now and then.

He only glanced at Elain, whose face was again a calm void while she traced a finger over the embroidery on the couch cushions.

Their gazes locked and held. But Elain said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward.

Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.

Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

As you can see Elain feels: - uncomfortable - on edge - withdrawn - wary - closed off - silenced (she always loses the will to speak around Lucien, going deeper inside of her) - melancholic (she watches as kettle boil without flinching as if she wandered in the maze of her mind). Elain loses her comfort and courage around Lucien, which is problematic and utterly sad to witness. He is a constant reminder for her of violation against her own free will, but also a living proof of her own trauma. LUCIEN AROUND ELAIN:

Lucien surveyed it all with cool indifference. What he felt about Elain, what he planned to do … I didn’t want to ask.

“I would never hurt her.” A bleak sort of honesty in his words.

He tried to sound casual—comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet.

He didn’t expect her to answer, and he gave himself all of one more minute before he’d rise from this chair and leave.

Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once.

He wished she’d shoved him out the window behind her.

He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth.

“I think she went through something terrible,” Lucien countered carefully. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have your best healer do a thorough examination.”

Lucien looked to her, then over to me. A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Nothing,” he said, and again faced his mate. “I’m sorry—if that unsettled you.”

Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry.”

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

Lucien silently slid into one of the chairs, before the window, that metal eye whirring as it roved over my sister.

Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.

Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye —the longing and sadness.

“I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.

Lucien feels: - uncomfortable - guilty - uneasy - confused (especially in the moments where Elain is having visions and he doesn't understand what's happening with her) - apologetic (he is constantly saying sorry to her) - tense

The guilt eats him every time he is around Elain, he is constantly apologizing while battling his inner problems such as remembering his true love. He was stripped off of his choice and even if the mating bond is there, he isn't happy. He is in constant pain just like Elain because both of them are each other wounds, each other reminder of trauma. They can't heal together because they are only happy when they are apart - Elain blooms in the Night Court, as we have read in ACOSF she is coming up with terms of Fae life and her own powers, adjusting her life to the notion of immortality. She is content and courageous and yet everything vanishes when Lucien is around. The same thing goes for Lucien. Lucien was struggling with her around him - he didn't know her, he didn't know what was happening to her as well. They were both strangers thrown at each other without their own say in this whole situation. Not to mention that their meetings were always arranged and supervised by others. When he sets on the journey to find Vassa he finds freedom and belonging - which was something he was battling in ACOWAR, after betraying his friends and his court, after being at odds in Night Court, and after being uncomfortable around his mate. He didn't have that sense of belonging in any of those things.

Elain and Lucien aren't compatible nor perfect for each other. They are constant reminders of traumas they experienced. They will never work out because they make each other miserable while being together, and they feel free and content apart. Their happiness lies with free choice, free will both of them were looking for in their lives. They are bound together against their own, and the only key for them being happy in this farce is setting themselves free. A choice of freedom. I strongly believe that after their rejection of the bond both of them could, perhaps, form a friendship. It would have been some sort of catharsis - to dwell upon the fact that they overcame that obstacle. That they chose to be happy apart, and not be shackled by this miserable bond.

#anti elucien #pro elain #pro elain archeron #elain archeron #acotar #i mean technically this is pro elriel #elriel #anti forced bond #elain and lucien as friends #not mates #also pls be civil in the comments

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cyntax-err0r · 3 years

Text

Tranquille Moments In Chaos (1)

The start of several moments that fill in the gaps of developing a friendship, then relationship, with Hancock.

Hancock x reader/sole.

Find it on ao3 as well!

(1853 words)

“Come with me.”

You had begun to question your sanity before the words fully escaped your lips. You leaned against the wall of the State House in Hancock’s disorganized bedroom, attempting your best not to look like a complete mess inside.

You saw how his blackened, clouded eyes looked you up and down. It was casual, and it reminded you of how the “cool kids” - you deemed them - would look through your flimsy persona back in high school. His dry and malformed lips stretched into a grin, and you could see amusement play across his face.

Hancock let out a short, breathy chuckle, before reaching into his back pocket of his trousers for the crumpled pack of cigarettes. “So lemme get this straight,” he started as if you were merely having a casual conversation. He pulled out his lighter from his other pocket, leaving you hanging off his words, until he lit up the cigarette and took the first drag.

“This is your… what, second week? Roamin’ around the Commonwealth like a stray dog?” That amused look slowly turned into a scrutinizing smirk. “Fahrenheit told me all about how you turned on Bobby. Can’t even hold a gun without the recoil throwin’ your arms all over - and you wanna run with me?”

The heat of embarrassment crept up to your face. True, you still weren’t terribly handy with a gun, despite your ex-spouse having military experience, but you made plenty sure they kept that sort of violence outside the house, what with the arrival of your newborn. Oh, how you would come to regret that rule.

But if there was one thing you were good at, that you honed over your college years, was how to fake confidence. You steeled yourself and pushed off the wall, standing your not-so-tall stance against Hancock. Sure, your cheeks were still very red, but you fronted a coy smile and a raised brow.

“I dunno, Hancock. You said it yourself - you’re soft. I may have been out here for a few weeks, but you’ve been lounging around longer than I’ve been surviving. Are you sure you can run with me?”

You stared into his dark eyes, appearing so sure of yourself. You began to falter inside, however, when his playfully degrading look turned to one that was serious. He took another painfully slow drag, starring you down all the while, then blew a puff of smoke into your face. You suppressed your cough, but the tears from the stinging smoke escaped.

Hancock chuckled darkly. “I can admire a babe willing to stand up to the man. Alright, hot stuff. I’ll tag along and maybe give you a few pointers.” He winked at you then, deciding he was done with his half-burnt cigarette, tossed it down and squished it out with the heel of his boot.

“First I gotta address the people; give ‘em a big mayoral speech. Don’t wait up.” He pressed the tip of his tricorn hat down, as a way to physically show he was switching over to his “business side”, and disappeared through the white door next to the wall you had leaned next to.

You released a sigh. There was no way you could keep up that air of confidence for long, especially around the man who radiates pure confidence. Pair that up with his natural ability to remain cool and keep it all from going to his head, and you looked like a nervous teenager on the first day of work next to him.

You heard the guards that stood outside the door to his bedroom snicker. You didn’t blame them. There was one thing that made you feel a little better about devolving into a mental puddle around Hancock. Irma had told you all about how he used to be a major hit with the ladies, and sometimes the gentlemen, and it wasn’t unusual when a person or two would fall at his feet. Of course, this was all before he turned into a ghoul, and yet…

Something tells you his ghoulification only amplified his charm.

He made good on his promise, even if it was made in jest. In your days wandering with this alluring ghoul at your back, he had taught you how to properly hold your 10 mm gun, and when you felt ready for rifles, he taught you how hard to press the stock against your shoulder and how to safely handle them. Although seeming to be intimately familiar with most common place guns, he himself preferred the ol’ reliable shotgun.

You’ve also come to be acquainted with his way of life and his morals. He lived up to his self-proclaimed title of “freedom fighter” with his rebel-rousing, tough guy nature who kept an eye out for the little man. He tried telling you after he shanked Finn to death, but you didn’t quite believe it then. A mayor, fronting as a freedom fighter? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t until one dark day with a downpour to rival a waterfall that would change your mind.

After one particularly bad firefight, you both found shelter in a half-dilapidated, vacant home. You had a friend in this neighborhood many years ago, although he moved away to another town to attend high school.

You sat on a dust covered cushion near a fairly in-tact windowsill, watching languidly as the rain fell heavy. One leg was tucked under you, while you stretched the other so that Hancock could remove the bullet deeply embedded in your thigh. You didn’t feel much of his makeshift surgery, what with the drug concoction he fed you. You were more entranced by the rainfall, and how the droplets pattered on the crumbling road not far from the house. The only light you had to serve was the half burned candles from the last squatter at the residence; five waxy candles that illuminated a warm, flickering orange against the cold darkness of the rest of the house.

“Hancock?” You quietly called for him, never moving your stare from the outside world. He hummed in response.

“Did you-“ you paused yourself. Your drug-filled mind struggled to figure out how to word your question. “Were you… Did you grow up here, before the war?”

Although the pain was completely numbed, you did feel an intense pressure from his work. You felt that pressure stop momentarily, before starting again.

You heard Hancock let out a scoff. It didn’t sound rude, but baffled. “What makes you think I’m one of those pre-war ghouls?”

“You’re a ghoul.”

Hancock laughed quietly. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m in my thirties?”

“Thirties?” You lulled your head, rolling lazily on your shoulders to face Hancock. Your vision was blurred by the pain killers, but still you could see the deep ravines in his skin. His eyes appeared exceptionally black, and where his nose rotted off long ago appeared darker. At the sight of what would have frightened you 200 some years ago, you smiled. “You look amazing for your thirties.”

“You should’a seen me before.” He looked up to wink at you, before reaching for a roll of bandages he kept hidden away in his coat pocket. “Drugs are a hell of a… drug.”

“Drugs can make you a ghoul?”

“Not just any drugs. This stuff,” he blew air from between his recessed lips as his mind dove back into his memories. “they didn’t even have a name for this stuff. Picture it - a vial of this scary glowing liquid that promised to give you a high that was outta this world. And get this, there was only one more hit of it left. You know what I did, doll?”

There was something so charming, so endearing, about the way he spoke. It was old school, but his rumbling voice, no doubt caused by their decay via radiation, kept you enraptured. Your smile grew more silly and enamoured. “What did you do, Hancock?”

“I shot it up.” He began to wrap the bandages around your thigh. “Lemme tell you, there’s nothing else in this whole damn world that’ll make you see - no, feel - the things I did. Everything else pales in comparison.” He tied them off with a yank, and gave your leg a light pat before continuing his story. “‘Course, it came with a price. That price is this gorgeous mug you see before you.”

You giggled at his display of gesturing to himself and giving you an exaggerated smoulder. He shifted over to the cushion that was beside the one you sat on and took his place beside you. You came to an agreement to wait, guns ready, for the rain to pass before moving on. Hancock leaned his back against the wall from where he sat, and in your drugged-up haze, you slumped over against him.

“Good Neighbour didn’t mind a ghoul for a mayor?” You asked, unaware of how your line of questioning came across. Still, Hancock answered freely.

“I wasn’t a ghoul yet.”

“How did you become mayor?” You asked him, moving your head to look up at him.

Seeing no harm in telling you, Hancock regaled you in the bigotry of Diamond City, and the reign of terror Vic held over Good Neighbour. He told you, laughing through it as he explained how the red coat of John Hancock could speak to him, and with the courage of drugs and a take-no-bullshit attitude on his side, he and a group of fed up people stormed the town hall. He went into gruesome detail of gunning down Vic’s men, and how they tied a noose around Vic’s neck and hung him over the same balcony Hancock would give his speeches. It was then, with unanimous decision, that John Hancock became mayor of Good Neighbour. It stayed a safe haven for everyone Diamond City rejected, and the rest was history.

It was then, as you stared up at Hancock with a mixed look of disbelief and admiration, that you truly believed he was, and is, a freedom fighter.

“And you traded a life of gunning bad people down for office work?” You nudged him playfully.

“Hey, I can do both, can’t I? Good Neighbour’s full of good people. They can fend for themselves while their fearless mayor cuts his teeth on some raiders.”

You attempted to nod in agreement, but found your head heavy and comfortable against his shoulder. You let out a yawn, the last thing you remembered, before the haziness you felt finally took over your senses and dragged you to sleep.

Hancock glanced your way and lightly chuckled at your slumbering form. He gently moved your wrist in your lap to peek at the time on your Pip-Boy. It was getting well into the evening, but still it was early enough that raiders and gangsters didn’t roam quite yet.

He reached up to tip his hat down over his eyes and slouched against the wall. There was a long night ahead of you both, and if there ever was a time to nap, a dark rainy evening was certainly it.

“Sweet dreams, vault dweller.”

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vanserraseris · 3 years

Note

END OF PART VI - Lucien learned how to fish from his brother, idk, no one can convince me otherwise. Just a warning that there are mentions of abuse and it is also implied. The next few parts are a little shorter, so hopefully they’ll be edited a little faster. I hope you enjoy it!!!

ahhhh so excited legoo!

Prince of Ashes. Part VI.

masterlist.

“I don’t like this,” Lucien mumbled as he stared into the waters of the river.

Rufus kicked water at him.

“I don’t like you,” Lucien grumbled as he made to splash back, his hand in midair when Eris growled at them.

Rufus kicked water at Eris.

Eris closed his eyes, standing straight, droplets of water dripped along his face and back into the river. He let out a long-suffering sigh. Lucien’s laugh could be heard above the sound of the water.

“I’ll remind the both of you that I was not the one that suggested we spend our day doing this.” Eris made a vague hand gesture in front of him. He opened his eyes and raised a wet, auburn brow at Rufus. Rufus waved a hand dismissively, something he seemed to have picked up from Eris. How annoying, Eris thought, and considered that perhaps he should wave people off less often.

“You’ve been holed away in that study of yours for far too long, it can’t be healthy. Touch some grass, Eris, smell some roses. I’m sure it will do you much good.”

Lucien smiled, his shoulder length hair tied back messily with a strap of leather, “Why don't we make it a game, then, that should make this exciting.” Now that Lucien had grown a bit, he looked a lot like Rufus. Eris supposed that meant Lucien looked like him as well, but there were more similarities to the two youngest brothers.

Both of them had easy grins and playful, russett eyes. The only small differences were their noses and the fact that Lucien’s skin was a light brown in comparison to the pale skin of the rest of his brothers. Eris couldn’t help but think they were all very fucking lucky that Lucien had the blood-red hair they’d all gotten from their mother. Sometimes, Eris wondered where in the fuck the Lady of Autumn had managed to find a secret lover from another court, but he wasn’t too keen on asking her.

“Hope you’re ready to lose, fox,” Rufus bared his teeth at Lucien, “Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re little.”

Lucien stuck out his tongue. “First one to catch a fish wins,” he said, getting into position.

Eris smiled, something that was becoming quite rare, bending over with his hands hanging loosely in the water, “Prepare to learn from the best, I’m sure the couple centuries I have on you both should give me an advantage.”

“Doubtful,” Rufus snapped, “You’re shit at this kind of thing.”

Not true, Eris thought, but didn’t bother responding. Eris had been the one to teach Rufus how to do this in the first place, having learned from Micah and Widge from his time in the war camps. Eris was pretty sure that as princes, he and his brothers were very much above wading around in rivers trying to catch fish, but it was nice to get outside.

“Are you sure there are fish in this river?” Lucien muttered.

“There are fish in every river,” Rufus replied, moving closer to their youngest brother.

Eris was no longer paying attention to the water, he merely glanced up to look at Lucien. Lucien was biting his lip, a look of determination on his face as he stared intently into the running water. Eris guessed that Lucien could probably do anything he set his mind to with that kind of perseverance.

Eris had been spending less and less time at the Forest House, not just because of his father’s many orders, but because he felt as though the less attention he gave Lucien, Beron did the same. Lucien didn’t really understand why Eris was avoiding him, but at least he still had Rufus. Eris hated to admit that he missed the little runt, and he couldn’t help feeling like he was missing out on Lucien’s life.

Cato had just been born when Eris was sent to the war camps that bordered the Autumn Court, Owain had been born right before the War, and Maddox right after it. Eris had been busy then. Worst was when Priam was born and Eris had been dutifully kicked out of The Forest House to rule over a territory far away from the capital city of Calchas. Not being there for his brothers was one of the few things he’d regretted when he’d been younger, but he didn’t spend too much time dwelling on that now.

He had been around much more for Rufus. His mother had had a difficult pregnancy and Eris had worried for her. He’d worried even more when Rufus was born such a small and sickly thing, but that had only meant that Beron paid him no mind. It was evident in the way Rufus acted, in his mannerisms and the patterns of his speech, that Eris had been a big part of his brother’s life. Eris supposed they differed a lot in personality, but he didn’t mind.

He’d rather Rufus be wild and playful than whatever the hells had happened to him.

“Ha,” Rufus said, amusement glittering in his eyes, “Found one.”

With a small yelp, Lucien crashed into the waters.

“Cauldron, Rufus,” Eris snarled. Rufus had wrapped a hand around Lucien’s ankle, holding him so that he dangled upside down, water dripping into the river from Lucien’s soaked clothes and hair.

Lucien made a funny gasping sound, his mouth gaping as he sputtered water. Eris didn’t know why he had panicked so irrationally, he knew very well that nothing dangerous lurked in these rivers. Eris stood to his full height and watched as Rufus lifted Lucien so that they were almost facing each other.

“The rare fox fish, quite the catch, brothers,” Rufus grinned, “I’m sure Old Sae will be thrilled with this remarkable find.”

“Eris,” his youngest brother whined, and Eris sighed, reaching for Lucien.

“Honestly, Rufus,” he tried to send a reprimanding look to him, but Rufus just shrugged, a smile still gracing his face. Rufus liked this sort of thing - tricks and riddles and jokes. Lucien liked it as well, just when he wasn’t the one the tricks and jokes were directed at. Lucien wrapped his arms around Eris’s neck, leaning his head on Eris’s shoulder like he had done when he was much younger.

Eris could hardly believe that Lucien was already a decade old. Eris held onto Lucien with one hand, fixing the cuff of his pants so that it covered the gold tattoo on his ankle. His father still didn’t know he’d gotten one, probably would have cut off his foot if he ever found out, but it served as a reminder to Eris that Beron didn’t own him.

“That’s why Eris is my favourite,” Lucien mumbled as Eris straightened.

Eris couldn’t help the triumphant smile he flashed in Rufus’s direction. Rufus scowled, “You hardly ever see Eris! He’s always gone, and you constantly come crying to me when father makes you upset, and Eris is your favourite?”

“Yes.”

Eris spoke before they started arguing, something they had begun doing a lot. “I think we’re done enough fishing for today.” Eris took the leather strap out of Lucien’s hair and handed it to Rufus, warming his hands with some of his magic and raking his fingers through the wet strands of his brother’s damp hair. “I should be getting back.”

“Mother’s tits, next time you want something, Lucien, I’m going to tell you to bother Eris with it.” Rufus was smiling as he ruffled Lucien’s hair, so Eris guessed Rufus might not have been telling the truth. “If you can find him, that is.”

“You never come home anymore.” Lucien observed, leaning back in Eris’s arms as he gently moved the hair that had fallen into Eris’s face. Eris frowned, thinking how Lucien’s softness was going to get him into a whole lot of trouble in a few years time.

“He’s gotten tired of us,” Rufus flicked water from his wet hands at Lucien. While Eris was pretty sure Rufus had meant that as a joke, he couldn’t help feeling as though perhaps Rufus was hiding some truth in his statement, some complaint he had of his oldest brother.

Lucien looked to Rufus, scrunching his nose in annoyance, “I’m tired of you.”

Rufus snorted, “I sincerely doubt that.”

“I’m not tired of you,” Eris felt like he needed to reassure them both, “I’ve just been busy.”

Rufus seemed to recognize that Eris hadn’t liked what he’d said, so he threw his arm over Eris’s shoulders as they continued to walk along the cobblestone path. “I know, I know, you think we’re great fun.” Rufus grinned, “It’s everyone else you’re tired of.” Just as they walked up the stone steps of The Forest House, Owain threw open the large, carved doors. Eris wondered if he’d been sitting there the whole time, waiting for their return.

The guards stationed there didn’t flinch at the loud bang the doors made as they hit the walls. “Where the hells have you been?” He snarled, his teeth bared. The jewels in the hilt of his large sword glinted in the light of the setting sun.

“Watch your tone, Owain, I’m not in the mood,” Eris snapped.

Owain stood in front of Eris so that he couldn’t walk any further, his broad hand grabbing Eris’s shoulder roughly. “Father has returned from his trip to Spring a little early and he’s looking for you.”

“He’s not due back until next week.” Eris thought that he would have been able to spend time with Rufus and Lucien, and Beron wouldn’t have even gotten word that he’d been neglecting some of his duties for it.

“Well, there’s been a change of plans, and now he’s fucking pissed.” Owain ran his fingers through his short, messy hair, “He already beat Cato bloody, said it was for letting you leave the house when you have a million things to do.” Owain shook his head, “I told father I’d send you to him once you’d returned. Head to the throne room - immediately.”

Eris was debating whether he should ask Owain where their mother was when Lucien was wrenched from his arms.

“Fucking hurry,” Owain spat, holding Lucien a bit awkwardly.

Lucien shifted in Owain’s arms so that he was facing his oldest brother, “Eris, you said you’d read me a story, you promised.” Eris frowned. He’d gotten very good at breaking his promises lately.

“I’ll read you a story,” Rufus finally spoke, saving Eris from having to respond, “Maybe we can get Owain to join us, too.”

Eris didn’t think Owain had ever read to a child, but he couldn’t help but feel grateful to Owain as he shot Lucien a small smile before he said, “I suppose I could join you for a bit.” The tone of his voice was much softer than what Eris was used to hearing from him. As captain of the Royal Guard, Owain usually sounded like he was giving an order, snappish and abrupt.

Eris remembered a time when Owain was all smiles, and he often wondered what Owain would have become had Beron not been their father. “I’ll read to you another time.” Eris tugged once on a strand of Lucien’s hair, “Goodnight, fox.” Lucien’s russett eyes were wide as he looked at Eris, tears threatening to fall from them. With one last look at Rufus, who wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping the fear he so obviously felt off his face, Eris jogged down the hall towards the throne room.

He would have to stop spoiling Lucien, Eris thought. He was making things worse than they had to be. By the time Eris finally made it to the doors of the throne room, he’d decided that he’d be spending even less time with Lucien, since that was what it meant to protect him. Eris took a deep breath, running a hand through his unbound hair. Eris regretted that he hadn’t thought to bring his boots when they’d gone fishing, and he muttered a low curse as he stared at his bare feet.

He felt a bit ridiculous, but there was no point in stalling, so Eris took another deep breath before he pushed the doors to the throne room open. Beron was already standing, the Lady of Autumn behind him and off to the side. She was gripping the skirts of her dress so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

“How many times do I have to tell you, boy,” Beron growled, his voice thick with rage. “How many fucking times?”

The ash-tipped whip in his father’s hand was familiar and Eris nearly flinched just looking at it. Beron shook his head when Eris didn’t respond, “Insolent,” he snarled. “The disrespect you show your High Lord cannot go unpunished, you understand that?”

Eris watched as his mother took one small step forward.

Eris widened his eyes in silent warning, but she spoke despite it. “Beron—”

“Be quiet,” his father hissed. “I don’t want to hear your voice.” Addressing Eris, Beron asked, “Where were you?”

Despite being quite a bit taller than the High Lord of the Autumn Court, Eris usually felt very small in his presence. Eris lifted his chin, “Out.” He often found he sounded very young when his father questioned him - like a defiant child. Beron looked closely at his eldest son, eyes stopping on Eris’s bare feet.

“5 for disobedience and 5 because you should have known better.” It could have been so much worse, and Eris knew he should have been counting his blessings for such a simple punishment, counting his blessings that Rufus and Lucien weren’t there in his place, but he couldn’t help the feeling of hate that swelled in his chest.

“Beron, please,” his mother begged. Eris didn’t know why she bothered, at this point, Eris’s back was so scarred it hardly mattered.

Beron turned to face her, flames in his eyes as the temperature in the room raised. “Speak again, and I’ll add another five.”

Since Eris could remember, Beron had always been a High Lord before a father. As Eris undid the laces of his shirt, he vowed that he would be a father before a High Lord if he lived long enough to do both.

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ysljoon · 3 years

Text

Guarded|Prisoner!Jeon Jungkook x Guard!Reader

Summary: The biggest rule of being a prison guard is that you're not supposed to have any form of relationship with the prisoners, but you decide to break the rules for Jungkook and you don't know why.

The number one rule about becoming a prison guard is to not become friends with the prisoners. That’s the single rule that you just couldn’t bring yourself to follow. Let’s not get crazy here though, it’s not like you’re friends with every single prisoner in the unit, there's just one inmate that holds a special place in your heart.

When you first took the job of a prison guard you were as jumpy as can be and the prisoners used to make it a game of who can scare you the most in one week. They used to spastically run up to their cell bars when you were doing checks for lights out and everyone knows that prisons are just much more scary at night so the combination of a dark prison and a prisoner running close to you gave you heart attacks like it was going out of style. Once you got used to the inmates’ antics it started to be funny towards you and you would crack jokes back at them. You never intended for yourself to become the “cool guard” of the prison, but your kind demeanor just made you favored over the other guards in the prison. One inmate definitely took a liking to you in a more toned down way.

One day when you were walking around during the inmate’s leisure time you saw an inmate call you over briefly to his table. This particular inmate you haven’t spoken much to or have even seen him speak much to the other inmates besides his cellmate. When he calls you over he has a shy look on his face and is avoiding eye contact.

“Mr. Jeon, how are you today? Is leisure time going alright?”

He gives you a small but warm nod and slowly pushes a folded paper towards you. You look at him confused, but he’s looking back at you with an expecting look so you take up the paper as he wishes. When you open it up, you’re shocked to see what was given to you. Jungkook had drawn a portrait of you leaning up against the wall in the leisure room. You give him wide eyes and he’s back to avoiding eye contact with you. You stoop down to his level in the chair so he can hopefully make eye contact with you.

“Jungkook, this is beautiful. I’m gonna hold on to this safely and probably keep it in my locker.” He smiles brightly at you and you return it before folding the picture into your pocket and stalking off to go observe other prisoners.

There’s not much that you know about Jeon Jungkook, but you do know the bare minimum information like that he’s 23 and was incarcerated for a couple robbery charges. You try your best not to judge the inmates so you have firm belief that he had his reasons for doing what he did. They were never armed robberies so you definitely know he meant no harm. He was never as vocal towards you or even vocal at all in comparison to the others that were incarcerated that loved to chat your ear off. By the time you were out of your thoughts, leisure time was over it was time to usher the inmates to lunch. Once in the cafeteria another guard took your place while you were allowed to have your lunch break for the day.

///

Lights out was a genuinely hard task for you. The inmates just never wanted to settle down and they would only turn off their lights and pretend that they’re sleeping to pass the checks, but once your back was turned they would turn them back on. On the longer nights you would negotiate with your unit such as an extra 15 minutes of leisure time if they would cooperate. Now of course it sounds ridiculous that you’re negotiating with prisoners when you’re supposed to be laying down the groundwork of rules with them. The thing is that you hate the feeling of commanding people around even though they are the same as you. The other guards at the prison do not have nearly as much humanity as you do. It may be a naïve way of thinking. You would rather think like this then look down on the prisoners, you only wish them the best when they get out.

Doing your final check of the cells you walk past Jungkook’s and hear some rustling within his confines. You playfully roll your eyes and knock on the bars to his cell as a way to tell him to wrap it up and go to bed. He comes up close to the bars and quickly drops a paper through the gaps and goes back to his bed before you can respond. You pick it up and open it and you head to your locker to go pick up your belongings and go home for the night. You have messy handwriting greet you and you quickly inspect what this note says.

Dear Officer L/N, I think you’re very nice and I appreciate your hard work! I hope I can get to know you better in the upcoming months even if it’s through these silly notes. I hope you can reciprocate these since talking to you in person is hard (it’s not just ‘cause you make me so nervous). I also hope this doesn’t get you in trouble :( I just like talking to you, you’re the nicest person to me in this prison. Kindly, JK

This note had you grinning from ear to ear and even had your heart racing a little faster than normal. You couldn’t even pinpoint why, but you soon felt quite embarrassed from getting giddy over a note like a schoolgirl. You haven’t gotten male attention in a while, but you’ll be damned if you resort to getting attention from one of your prisoners, that’s just asking for you to lose your job. You stuff the note in your pocket hurriedly and that reminds you about the other paper that you got from the same man. You searched for tape in the back room and taped it to the inner part of the door of your locker and grabbed your belongings. Once you reach your car and start to head home you already start to plan your response to Jungkook’s note.

///

You walk into work with a little more strength to your stride and seem extra happy to wish the prisoners an extra good morning. You felt the folded paper burning in your pocket. You were overly excited to give Jungkook your personal note in return. This definitely was against the rules because you were not allowed to have any personal relationships with any of the inmates under any circumstances. Somehow Jungkook just made you want to break the rules and it made you feel free in an odd way, but you weren’t complaining by any means.

Once you made your rounds on morning checks you made an extra circle around the unit as an excuse to make it towards Jungkook’s cell and once you made it there you saw him expectantly waiting at the front of his cell. It’s almost like he knew you were going to make an extra round just to see him and it made you smile. A wide grin splayed across his face when he saw you slide your note to him and in return he slid you another paper. You raised an eyebrow since you weren’t expecting to receive a note from him, but instead you were given another drawing. This time it was a drawing of you and him together in a park having a small picnic. The picture made you want to hug him through the bars, but that would definitely get you in trouble. Instead you folded it up and placed it in the breast pocket of your uniform. You gave it two taps to show him that it was safe with you and then sent a wink in his direction. His smile managed to get even wider and you could see that this was going to be a blossoming friendship or even more once he was out of prison and you were very excited to see what the future held for you.

Notes: This was to celebrate me reaching 100 followers I hope you guys genuinely enjoyed this and I’m always happy to hear and feedback or opinions through replies or in my ask box! As always if you liked what I wrote a like and reblog are always appreciated and if you would like to support me further you can give me a Kofi.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #fluff #jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts au #au #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader #x reader #bts #bangtan sonyeondan

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arcane-apathy · 3 years

Text

F Drider X F Reader

AN: Welcome to a new little mini-series of mine. I have been dying to write a drider story for the longest time now. This story is the first of my high fantasy genre, all my other stories have been modern fantasy or sci-fi. But this one is pure fantasy. I’m very slowly trying to make my content applicable for a wider audience as well. Anyways... Thank y’all for your support, and I hope you’ll enjoy!

Warning(s): Swearing, Violence, Injuries, Mention of Sexual Assault, Death, Alcohol, Brief Mention of Nudity

The Bloodroot Forest was the last place you expected to make camp in. When you first saw it on the map you tried everything to avoid it. But, the forest was massive and would take weeks for you to circumvent. Upon arrival you discovered the name of it is scarier than the actual forest. Simply named after the dark red sap that flowed from the otherwise normal trees. The forest was calm, the paths well worn and old, and the deer were brave.

Your camp was measly and made of the bare necessities, product of a rushed escape. War has ravaged your community, forcing everyone to seek refuge in new places. You have yet to find a suitable home, one far enough away so you wouldn’t need to flee again. For now you lived out of your bag, foraging for food, and with a stiff back. But, whenever you wanted to complain, you had to remind yourself of what your fate would’ve been if you hadn’t left home.

The forest was peaceful at night as you laid on your makeshift bed, tightly wrapped up in your cloak. The wind gently tosses the branches above you and the occasional noise of an animal. Just as you were about to sleep, the noises changed. The nocturnal birds stopped chirping and you could hear the animals running further away from you. And you didn’t dare to move. Animals only left when they were scared and if the deer that were brave enough to mosey into your camp earlier were scared, something big was coming.

Very slowly you sat up, straining your ears for any hint as to what was coming. The silence was bone chilling. Then there was a rustle. You couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from, which didn’t put you at any ease. Slowly your hand landed on the blade at your waist, a gift from your uncle after coming of age.

“Well, what do I have here?” You quickly cover your mouth to keep from screaming, turning around to look behind you. Yet no one was there. “Look up.” Out of sheer curiosity you obeyed, your eyes quickly met with large pure black eyes and pincers. You try to scramble away from them, only to find yourself hitting the tree behind you. Driders were a force to be reckoned with, most of them being mercenaries or guards to those of importance. But, encountering one in their natural habitat was another story. Here they were territorial and followed no laws.

The Drider smirks as he hangs above you, his black and white legs twitch in anticipation as he watches you, “I knew I smelt something off earlier. Now I know what it is.” His pitch black hand reached out to touch you, “and you do smell divine.” Normally when a scent-sensitive person no matter what race they were compliments you on your scent, it would fill you with a sense of pride. But this just felt wrong on so many levels. “So girly, what are you doing in my territory?”

You shy away from his hand, glancing up and the red and black abdomen above you, “just passing through, I promise to be gone by morning.”

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, his pincers rising as he frowns, “see I can't just let you through without any way to pay." You could now feel the heat of his breath fanning over you as he gets even closer. Sadly with his advantage of four arms he managed to grab a hold of your wrist. "But, I can easily think of a way for you to pay."

Now it was your turn to frown, "I don't think so." His grip tightened, promoting you to tighten your grip on your blade. Thankful it was hidden within your cloak.

"You don't have a choice", he hisses and tries to pull you off of the ground. You pull out your blade as fast as you could, using the momentum to slice his arm. The Drider hisses in pain as you scurry out from underneath him, bolting into the foliage not even bothering to look back. If you were lucky you'd be able to return for your things at a later time. But your safety was more important than your measly possessions.

You knew it was crazy to try and outrun a being with eight legs and the instincts of an apex predator. But it was all you had. It didn’t take long for the muscles in your leg to start to burn. The cool night air felt like freezing on your skin and like a fire in your lungs. And you could hear him gaining on you.

“Get back here you little bitch,” he hissed. Which only prompted you to run faster, despite how much it hurt. You could hear that he was taunting you, but you didn’t bother to actually listen to what he was saying. All you focused on was the ground in front of you, avoiding the tree roots at all costs. But what you didn’t account for was webbing. The silk was basically invisible in the dark, and thick enough to trip you.

You fall onto your shoulder with a cry, pain blossoming along your left-hand side like a spiteful flower. The branches and roots doing little to cushion your fall. Desperately you crawl to your hands and knees. Doing everything in your power to keep any semblance of distance between you and the Drider. But his laugh was already too close for comfort. Before you know it, you're grabbed by the hair and lifted off the ground. You couldn't help but scream as he pinned you to a nearby tree. His two pairs of arms being a natural advantage, "got you now."

You kick at his chest, using every ounce of strength to push him away. But it just wasn't enough. You couldn't reach for your blade, and any attempt to wiggle out if his grasp was in vain. "Let me go!"

"Yeah right, after you've cut me with your blade. Nice try you little wench, but I'm going have fun with you until you take your last breath," his grip on your arms tightened to emphasize his point.

“Put her down brother,” a more effeminate voice calls out to him. Your breath catches in your throat as the source of the voice steps out of the shadows. The male Drider was large in comparison to you, but the female that entered the clearing made him look small. Much like the male, her skin, eyes, and hair were a pure black. Instead of a red and black abdomen, her arachnid body was pitch black. As she got closer the more the male dwarfed in comparison.

“The bitch was in my territory and she cut me.”

“And now you’re in my territory and I don’t care, let her go.”

The male looks at you, then back to the larger female with a frown, “fine.” Then he literally dropped you. You fall to the ground with a whimper, using your good arm to sit yourself back up. “Why even bother protecting her? She’d make a better meal than friend.” You struggle to get up, only realizing you were caged in by his legs and the tree.

“It doesn’t matter. My territory, my rules,” she slowly walks closer. “Step away from her.” Nobody moves, especially not the male Drider. All you heard was her sigh, heavy with disappointment, then all hell broke loose. The two Driders charge at each other, the male desperately trying to claw at her before she pushes him away. You watch in fear and awe, scrambling back into some bushes for safety. The male notices you moving and tries to lunge for you, but the female beats him to it as she stands over you.

“You really want to fight your own family over a pathetic human?”

“My morals mean more to me than you ever will.” She charges him again and picks him up before slamming him onto his back. Her pincers rise as she lets out a bone-chilling hiss of anger. With ease she climbs atop him, using her weight to hold him down. Her hands swiftly find their way around his throat. His legs flail and try to push her off, and he claws at her arms. But she did not let up. Instead you heard a sickening crunch, and his legs and arms fell to the ground.

Silence surrounded the two of you as she stood up and backed away from the lifeless Drider. Her chest heaving from the action and her hair in her face. You couldn’t help but stare at her in the moonlight. She sighs and looks at you, “I promise I won’t hurt you.” You watch her legs curiously as she steps closer to you. “You are hurt, please let me help you.”

You look back to the body and ask meekly, “he was your brother?”

She nods, “one of thirty.”

Your eyes widen at the number, yet it made sense. Spiders lay a ridiculous amount of eggs, so Driders must do the same. You look back up to her as you try to stand up, “I think I dislocated my shoulder.”

“I have medical supplies back in my burrow, and light,” she smiles a little as she lowers herself down to look at you. “Can you walk?”

“I believe so, but it’s hard to stand up with one working arm.” She nods and grabs onto your good arm, gently pulling you to your feet. “Thank you.”

“Your welcome,” she smiles and gently holds your hand, “the forest will get darker the closer to my burrow we go. The trees are really thick over here.” You nod a little and let her guide you through the trees. Every time there was a log or boulder in your way she would pick you up and carry you over it. Her strength, agility, and endurance were nothing but impressive. No wonder why Driders are so sought after to be guards for nobility. Soon the opening of her burrow was in sight, a pair of bushes strategically planted alongside the opening to give it a little bit of cover.

The burrow was cozy to say the least, and was bigger than it looked on the outside. It was cool inside due to being underground, yet it was bright with the help of oil lamps and candles. The walls and ceiling were smoothed down and holding shape with the help of webbing. “Sadly I don’t have any furniture for you to sit on cause… well,”she motions to her abdomen before going to a large trunk. She pulls out a large blanket and leaves it folded up so it was like a pillow, “but this will be better than the floor.”

“I’m plenty used to sitting and sleeping on the ground by now. But thank you,” you sit down and wince as you bump your shoulder into the wall. You watch as she digs through a different trunk, reading the bottles and containers.

She walks over to you and sits on the ground in front of you, her legs sprawled out all over the place. Even without the added height of her legs she was still a few feet taller than you. If you had to guess, she looked to be around nine feet tall when she stood at her full height. “I don’t have many pain killers, but I do have a bottle of brandy if that will help.”

You chuckle as she hands you the bottle, “anything is helpful at this point.”

She motions to your cloak, “may I?”

You nod, “of course.” Her fingers were nimble as she undid the pin that held the garment closed. The cloak fell to the floor around you as she gently ran her hands along your shoulder.

“You’re right, it’s dislocated,” she offers a small smile, “but, I can easily put it back in.”

You sigh and take a swig of the brandy, “that would be greatly appreciated… After a few more sips.”

“Of course,” she chuckles and watches you drink. “I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Lalia.” You smile a little and introduce yourself as she watches you curiously. “So, what are you doing in the Bloodroot at night?”

“I was trying to sleep.”

“So you’re a traveler?”

“I’m trying to find refuge,” you wince as she lifts your arm straight. “I had to flee home because of war, and I’m just trying to get as far away as possible.”

“I’m sorry to hear of your loss.”

“It’s fine, I’m safe and that’s all that matters to me.”

She smiles a little and slowly lifts your arm, “this will hurt.”

“I fully expect it to,” you nod and close your eyes. The brandy only helps so much, even if you got wasted off of it. She notices your determination and nods. One of her hands gently resting on the back of your shoulder as she guides your bone back into the socket. You bite back a scream as you feel the bone pop back into place, then the pain immediately subsides. Simply an annoying buzz versus the piercing sensation that it was before. You let out a breath that you didn’t notice you were holding while Lalia tied something behind your neck.

She was using a scarf as a makeshift sling, “you should keep your arm like this for a couple days at least. So, it doesn’t pop out of place again.”

“Thank you Lalia, you truly are a lifesaver.”

She waves a slender hand dismissively, “it was nothing.” You glance at the claw marks that her brother had left along her forearms, the wounds already clotted. “Don’t worry about it, it’ll take a lot more than some claws to hurt me.” She gets up from sitting down and goes to put her supplies away. Now that your pain was gone, you finally got a chance to fully take in the woman in front of you.

Even in the lighting of the cave she was entirely black. Her skin, eyes, hair, and arachnid body were the color of ink. The light only reflecting off of her arachnid body made her look like she was made of velvet. Her face, just like her body, was slender and angular in nature. Then you also noticed she was completely bare, her lengthy hair being her only modesty. She was as beautiful as she was intimidating. And you couldn’t help but stare.

“Are you alright,” she tilts her head.

“Uh yeah,” a little bit of heat rushes to your face, “just the brandy is starting to catch up with me.”

“Oh,” she looks around her living space before going to a shelf. She brings back a pitcher and a cup, “water from the nearby spring.” You smile as she hands you the cup, taking a large drink out of it. Not only was your pain dying down, so was your energy. Your exhaustion from traveling the woods all day and from running for your life. Lalia chuckles as you loudly yawn, her legs making their way back to one of her many chests. She pulls out a bed roll and another large blanket from it, “I’ll make you a bed real quick.”

“I can make my own bed, it’s fine.”

“You have one working arm, I have four. I’ll make your bed.” Her tone left no room for arguing, so you simply sat and watched as she laid out the roll and the thick blanket atop of it to make it more plush. “Then you can use your cloak and the blanket you’re sitting on to cover up with.”

“Thank you, again… I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“There’s no need hun, I’m just doing what’s right.” You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered by the pet name, but you didn’t let it show. Instead you got up from your spot and made your way to the bedroll. Using your good hand to pick up your cloak. You kick off your boots, something you usually didn’t do while on the road. Then made yourself comfortable on the makeshift bed. Lalia brought over the blanket you were sitting on and gently laid it down around your feet. “Do you think you’ll need anything else?”

You arrange the blanket and your cloak to your liking, “I don’t think so.” It took you a little bit, but you were finally able to lay your head on the bedroll’s built in pillow. Which was hard with only one working arm. While you try to get comfortable, Lalia is walking around the main area of her burrow. Turning off the oil lamps and blowing out the candles, leaving only one lit so you weren’t drowned in darkness. You silently yawn as she moves about the burrow with ease. Making you wonder if it was purely by memorization or if she had enhanced night vision.

“I can feel you watching me.”

You blush as you were caught red handed, “I’m merely curious… You’re only the second Drider I’ve ever talked to.”

“I hope my brother didn’t make too bad of an impression.”

“There have been worse.”

Lalia slowly makes her way closer to you, her voice slowly becoming quieter, “I will have to go back out soon… To hunt and to claim my new territory…”

“I see, are you nocturnal?”

“Not exactly, but it’s easier to hunt at night. I’ll be sure to find your things as well.”

“That would be greatly appreciated. It’s all I have.” Her smile falters a little at your words, “no pressure though.”

She scoffs a little, “that’s not what I’m sad about.”

“Please don’t be sad for me. Like I said earlier, I’m alive and that’s all that matters to me.”

She comes closer to your bed and crouches down. Her warm and slender fingers gently brushing your hair off your face. "That is quite the noble thing to say. I don't know many people who would say that."

You couldn't help the heat that rushed to your face, "I'm nothing special."

"I would say otherwise,” her kind smile illuminated by the distant candlelight. You return the smile before having a jaw splitting yawn. She chuckles and gently pets the top of your head before standing up again. “You should sleep hun, it’s been a long day.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you sigh and you try to get comfortable. “Good luck hunting.”

“Thank you, I’ll be back before morning.” You nod and watch as she walks towards the mouth of her burrow. Your need for sleep makes your eyes too heavy to hold as soon as you lose sight of her. Despite being alone within the burrow of a Drider, all you felt was comfort.

#f drider x f reader #drider x reader #wlw #fantasy #my work #my writing #terato #exophilia #wlw fiction

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