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elriel-oblivion · 3 years

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So I started this in the last week of 2020, and I'm ready to post it 😊 I've still got a couple other wips I'd started before this one but I haven't been bothered to finish those lol so I'm putting this one out first. Anyway, this'll be 6 parts long; I'll prob put up the next part in three or four days.

I'll put word counts so you can gauge how long each part is and if you wanna read it 😅 Also lemme know if you'd like to be tagged

Word count: 2.2K

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part I

The shadows were colder than usual tonight. On better days, their chill wrapped Azriel's bones in an icy embrace, a comforting freeze numbing any semblance of feeling in his wasted heart.

But this miserable night, they were searing cold, the kind of cold piercing the highest of mountain peaks; the kind of cold that penetrated the brain itself. He shivered as he travelled through those shadows, dark mists and wisps coiling like vines about his head.

Maybe he was deliberately searching for the coldest areas. Maybe he wanted a complete absence of feeling: physical, emotional, spiritual. It would certainly be easier to feel nothing than trying to quell the frigid rage inside. How could an avalanche be stopped once it started?

Further and further he moved through his shadows, dawn chasing him from a few hours away. Mountains and villages surged past through those charcoal mists, making way to depthless forests and ravines. He clenched his jaw tight against the cold, memory guiding him home.

But the fresh blood he'd seen earlier, and the mutilated remains of that little girl, one wing torn off and lying bent at the edge of the dirt path ... Her unseeing eyes were glazed, that shine as bright and true on his mind as the glint of moonlight on the blade of Death. And her scream. Cauldron, it curdled his own blood.

He'd been but a minute late. A matter of seconds were all that stood between him and the sadistic bastard who'd brutalised that child. Barely a heartbeat in his lifetime.

He blinked once to rid himself of her stare. Twice.

The image remained, muddying with his path home. His hands clenched and unclenched, nails biting into his skin, but the girl's hazel eyes and her ashen skin and the fingers outstretched for that severed wing remained an imprint on his vision.

Why was this affecting him so much? It wasn't the first time he'd seen horrors like this. But if Azriel wanted to be honest with himself, some days were harder than others simply because they were. Some days, the despair rattled his core and tossed him far out - because he was a person and emotions, feelings, these things were too abstract to be boxed in.

Everything had a limit. Had Azriel ever truly reached his?

Sometimes Azriel himself didn't understand how he kept it all in. How he didn't react or display any sign of having seen or heard the things he did. Sometimes he was repulsed by himself because of it. At least Cassian and his rare vomiting showed some of the humanity inside.

Azriel gave away nothing. Was there even humanity in himself? Everyone but his family looked at him like he was an unhinged monster imprisoned by his Illyrian skin. Like he was moments from escape and they would be his first victims.

Or - not just his family. Her. Elain. Did he consider he family? Perhaps it was too early, or even too inappropriate to do so.

Either way, how could he stain the sudden image of her with himself, with the horrors he'd just seen, had always had the displeasure of seeing? She was lovely and warm and beautiful and he was dark and cold and hideous.

Elain. Something inexplicable stirred in him at the thought of her.

He tried to calm it, this heat, this single star in his midnight sky. But it remained. And it grew.

And he was disgusted. Ashamed. He was not worthy of her.

And it ached. Another unrequited love.

That word snapped something in him. Mocked him.

Love.

A choking sound ripped from his throat and he welcomed it, let it mount into a scream, let it tear through his body and soul. Like that monster was finally breaking free. It was invigorating yet scorching. It burned him from the inside out but the cold of those shadows permeated his mind so heavily, he forgot the essence of corporeality and only his soul seemed to drift.

His ragged breathing sounded, throat parched. Where was he? Through the shadows, all around him, there seemed only darkness. Was he flying? No, the shadows sang their usual baritone thrum as opposed to the high harmony of the wind.

Above, no stars glistened. His eyes strained but nothing peeked through. It wasn't often that his shadows became this thick; usually thin and wispy, they now shrouded his being, coalescing over, in him. He became the cold, a shadow, darkness itself, floating through the ether, higher and higher like ashes on the wind.

But even ashes settled down at some point.

Unless his soul truly were ascending, unless this truly were death. It almost seemed too easy. All the battles, those two great wars, the poison that shot through his veins and stole his breath as per Hybern's whim. Poison that sometimes woke him up in cold sweats, a phantom memory of its iciness picking through his body as though he were being cut up by the sharpest blade ...

Sometimes it even felt like his own blade.

No, this couldn't be death. A mere scream, the image of lives lost, a bloody fight - he hated to admit that these were commonplace among his memories, his life. But in doing so, he knew death was too easy an aftermath for what had happened tonight.

Death, an ascent. But he was sure when his time came, his stained soul would descend like the demon he was.

So he grounded, drifting down weightlessly until the solidity of rock steadied him. He would not go to that darkest of places yet. But he was still exhausted. So damn tired of everything. He feared that if he dropped into a slumber right now, he'd not get up for a lifetime. As it was, his legs almost gave out, but he forced some remaining strength back into them. All he had to do was get home now.

He stepped out of his shadows; Devlon's camp was quiet around him. A fire to his far right sputtered in the harsh winds and Azriel swept himself back into his shadows.

This time he travelled faster, composing himself, locking his muscles and bones up, clenching his jaw. He let that familiar cool comfort drain his rage, cleaning it through his veins before it settled in the frozen lake of his heart where the rest of his darkness lay, inescapable through the impenetrable foot of icy wrath and sorrow. He savoured his shadows, a confidant in their own right, thanked them for their understanding and the escape he found within them.

But they were growing warmer now. Azriel squinted through them as they shifted him across land and water - the scape of Velaris and its brilliant lights greeted him. Closer to home now, he could breathe with a looser chest but this was still unusual; his shadows shouldn't be warmer, they should be cool and refreshing, like the autumn night breeze beyond.

His wings rustled, body reacting to his shadows' autonomy before his thawing mind caught up. 'Where are you taking me?' he murmured.

Mist swirled about him and the shadows deposited him at the far edge of the dimly lit back garden at his High Lord and Lady's riverfront estate. Why would they bring him here? Rhysand and Feyre were at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were together in Illyria and Mor was at the Winter Court. As far as he knew, Amren was at her own apartment so the only person left was -

'Azriel!' came Elain's voice. It was distant in a way it shouldn't be.

Azriel leaned against a tree, pretending to fiddle with the Siphon atop his left hand. Breathing was difficult but he swallowed and exhaled in a shudder.

He needed to fully compose himself before anyone saw him like this. If only his damn shadows hadn't taken control for those last few moments, he'd be in his own home and lying in that swirling darkness in peace. Though, he supposed, it was his own fatigue that had yielded that control.

'Azriel!' Elain cried, stopping in front of him. Her face was caught between a frown and a wince and her arm was raised slightly. 'You don't look okay.'

As always, he was momentarily stunned by how unafraid this small female was of him. Here he was in his full armour, every bit the monstrous warrior that sent his people scurrying into their homes and locking their doors, and yet Elain stood strong before him. Like she saw not a killing machine but a person.

She never even commented on how his shadows made to disappear around her. Perhaps she hadn't noticed.

He swallowed before he let out what he thought was a light laugh. 'I'm fine, don't worry.' But he could hear the hoarseness of his voice, now facing the consequences of that scathing scream. And his limbs felt even heavier than before, like someone had injected liquid lead into them.

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she whispered, lowering both her gaze and arm.

He paused, trying to catch her gaze. The constant light in her eyes whenever she looked at him was a balm to his soul. He could use some of that right now.

He reached out an arm, so impossibly leaden right now - if he could just get to sit down -

'Can I wash your hair, please?'

He started. 'You want to wash my hair?'

Elain's eyes flicked back up to skirt over his, up to his hair, where they stayed pinned. 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

Shit. He hadn't even thought of his appearance after that bloody fight earlier. How that had slipped his mind? He ran a hand through his hair, and surely enough, crumbs of dirt rained down.

Although, he really hadn't expected to turn up here of all places. In the privacy of his own home, he wouldn't have cared if he were missing a whole damn limb, if only it meant he could sleep like the dead.

Not to mention that sleeping with a little mud was the least an Illyrian warrior's problems. But Elain's care was something of a punch to his gut. When was the last time someone had truly tended to him for reasons that weren't battle or holiday related?

'You've managed to get some on your face, too,' she said, brow furrowed as she stared at his cheek.

Her eyes were so deep and focused, he wished they would just meet his once. But of course, that level of scrutiny he'd come to learn from Elain meant shyness. Just shyness. She was so endearing, he could've laughed with such fondness if he weren't so damn tired. He wished this whole damn night would be over already.

His leg faltered slightly and he stumbled forward.

'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

He raised his brows at her, but she simply took his arm and began leading him towards the house. She looked so small before him but didn't slow despite dragging his bulk behind her.

Halfway across the garden, he pulled her to him with his free arm, his shadows saving the both of them the energy of walking through that mansion of a home.

'My bathroom,' she murmured. Elain didn't balk through the five seconds of that darkness, didn't even look surprised. She showed no sign of hearing the spike in his pulse either. Thank the Mother.

He set them in her bathroom, and she didn't look at him once as she flitted around the chamber, pulling a chair from her bedroom to the sink and grabbing a towel, soap and a jug from the cupboard. Standing there, his breathing began to smooth out.

The window was open, a chill breeze sweeping in. The faelights were dim and their placid light sent a dusky illumination over Elain's features. Some bottles of oils and herbs sat on the edge of the bathtub. Azriel had heard of people using oils for bathing, but herbs? Perhaps they were like flower petals, used for their scent.

Towel in hand, Elain waited at the sink, placing the soap and jug down. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this.'

Azriel nodded, tapping his Siphon. Within seconds, that second skin of cold scales and gleaming wrath was safely stored away. Just his plain black trousers and tunic were left.

Elain's eyes caught every moment of the transformation. 'It's beautiful, all of it.'

He didn't even know if she was speaking of his armour or the basic clothes underneath or what, but his face warmed slightly, wings rustling.

'Please sit,' she said, gesturing to the chair. As he did, she wrapped the towel around his shoulders, fingers hovering above his forehead for a few seconds.

Those seconds felt perennial. He almost shuddered as her fingers made contact with his skin. Her hands were so gentle as they pushed his head back, and he shifted in the seat. He lowered his wings, and she stepped into the space he provided. She was still as he got comfortable, only turning the tap once he was settled. There was a slight crease between her brows, and he clenched his fists to keep from smoothing it out.

Sounding so much like his own mother that his throat tightened, she whispered, 'You can close your eyes.'

So he did.

Feedback is welcomed, thanks for reading 😊

#elain archeron #azriel #elriel #acotar #elain x azriel

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crystalirises · 3 years

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The Promise of Rest (The Promise of Blood II)

*the request: fluff and wholesome* Me: ah yes, a n g s t

I'm so sorry but my brain just died and said, let's make this slightly angsty because is it 1:00 AM and I am currently listening to Tightrope from the The Greatest Showman.

So, have this fluff and angst XD

TW: Implied Possessive Behavior, Implied Kidnapping, and Implied Gaslighting (Not Done by Technoblade)

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886223/chapters/81753769

The sword flew from his grasp, the metal glinting off the dull sunlight of the arctic before skidding across the ice lake. He groaned, collapsing to the ground, snow pressing through the blue cape his uncle had generously let him borrow. He glanced up at the light blue sky, his bones aching with the day’s fatigue. His uncle’s footsteps faded away for a moment, giving him but a moment to catch his breath. It had barely been five seconds before a heavy boot stepped near the side of his head, the tip of his sword appearing just above his nose. He let out a tired whine.

“How do you expect to face Wilbur if you could barely hold a sword?” His uncle’s words were a splash of ice cold water, reinvigorating him to the reason why he’d asked to be trained. The sword disappeared, replaced by a scarred hand. Fundy hesitated, before reaching up. Techno pulled him back up to his feet, letting him pat the snow off his clothes before handing him his training sword. “If you would rather hide in the cabin, then I suggest leaving your blade here.”

“Wha— I don’t want to hide in the cabin! I don’t…”

Fundy curled up around himself, letting out a small sigh. He knew how to handle a sword, he’d been through two wars, after all. But months of inactivity had left him weak, and Techno was a master warrior, of course Fundy had no hope of defeating him in combat. He glanced down at the iron blade in his hand, his hand curling against the hilt. But his fingers wouldn’t stop shaking.

A hand enveloped his own, prying the sword from his hold. He let Techno sheathe the sword to his belt, the piglin hybrid’s own sword left within his hand. A part of him felt ashamed for wasting his uncle’s time, even Techno had warned him that he wasn’t ready for training. He had begged his uncle to train him for days, a constant noise in the warrior’s ear ever since Fundy realized that Wilbur would come for him soon. He should have listened to Techno, should have listened to his uncle’s advice. All that he could do was hide. He wasn’t his father, he didn’t have the charm or the words to convince Wilbur himself to leave him alone. He wasn’t Tommy, he didn’t have the confidence or the gall to face a bigger opponent. He wasn’t Techno, he wasn’t a warrior and he didn’t have his uncle’s fearlessness. He was just… Fundy. A boy who only ever wanted to find his place while still remaining in his father’s good graces. Now, he had neither.

He jumped, snapping himself away from his thoughts. He hadn’t even realized that they’d made their way back to the cabin… Fundy shook his head, casting his tired gaze low to the ground.

“There is a reason I didn’t wish to train you.” Techno lead him to sit at a chair that his uncle had dragged out the second day of Fundy’s permanent (temporary?) stay. The piglin hybrid leaned against the wooden railing of the porch, his blood red eyes taking in the sky for a moment. Fundy pulled his knees up to his chest, forcing himself to expect the inevitable speech of how he wasn’t capable of protecting himself, that Techno would be better off fighting for the two of them. Wilbur - during the time where he was locked inside the house - told him that Fundy was never meant for fighting, never meant to be anywhere near the field, may it be political or the battlefield. He reminded him of what he’d done during the Manburg Era… how Fundy had let the temporary power go to his head. But he was wrong, Fundy had been spying for his dad, he never let the power get to his head… right? “You need to heal first, Fundy, before you train.”

Fundy’s ears flicked up at that, tail wagging ever so slightly before he pushed down the bubbling feeling of hope. Techno wasn’t finished. He gave his uncle a hesitant side glance, “W-what?”

Techno sighed, a wince flashing across his uncle’s lips. His uncle leaned down, placing a hand on Fundy’s knee. “What happened with Wilbur… It still affects you. I will train you, honestly Fundy do you think I’d let a freeloader live with me? But, you have to heal first before training.”

“You… You’ll train me? Even if… I’m weak?”

“I assure you, Fundy, that everyone is strong… and everyone is weak. We are strong in our own ways, in the skills that we were gifted with, and with the skills that we’ve honed in our lifetimes. Still, no warrior will ever escape weakness, may it be physical, mental, or emotional… Do you know the story of Achilles?” Fundy shook his head, face heating up in embarrassment, everyone knew that Techno was well versed in the olden myths. Fundy never had time for them, and Wilbur certainly never mentioned them. Either way, he still didn’t know where his uncle was going with it… “Achilles was a great warrior, the greatest some might proclaim. Yet even he had his weaknesses. His heel, his physical weakness for his mother had dipped his whole body in the River Styx… except for his heel. He also had his emotional weakness, Patroclus, whose death sent him into a rage. The point is, Fundy, that even great warriors have their weaknesses.”

Fundy continued to stare, afraid to admit that he… didn’t quite understand what Techno meant. The piglin hybrid sighed at his lack of reaction, reaching up to pet him on the head instead. He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. It felt nice, it reminded him of his dad during the good days. After a moment, Techno slowly withdrew, tossing Fundy an apologetic look before gesturing towards the front door. He blinked, realizing that he was shivering… and not because of the cold. He wiped at the tears that pooled at his eyes and fell past his cheeks, but it wouldn’t stop. Fundy let out a small sob, rocking back and forth before lunging forward. He shouldn’t surprise Techno, but he just wanted to be held. He just wanted someone to hold him for a bit.

“I don’t want to h-hide. I-I want to… I want to face him. I want to… to ask him why… why…”

He held onto his uncle’s shirt, claws poking through the cloth but Techno didn’t seem to mind. Fundy couldn’t stop crying, bawling right into Techno’s chest like a child. His uncle held onto him just as fiercely, rocking him back and forth while whispering reassuring words into his ears.

“You’ll get to ask him yourself. I promise. Yet, a warrior can rest before a battle. So, rest.”

#fundy #technoblade #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp #uncle blade #;-;

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yukimoji · 4 years

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Oblivion 💕!! I hope you’re well, I’d like to request a cute Tanjirō x reader. Maybe where the s/o starts trying to make herself smell better, like using better soap to wash up. She’s really self conscious and wanted to try and please Tanjirō because she’s too awkward to actually just go and speak to him. They’ve been friends for a while and both like the other, even if they aren’t aware of that obvious fact. So Tanjirō eventually tells her that he prefers her natural scent. A scent of home 💕

(a/n: hi there again! thank you so much for requesting! i hope i did your request justice! i hope you’re well too and stay safe out there! <3 )

(also, beware for typos and grammar errors! happy reading!)

Total words: 1900+ words

Genre: Fluff

No manga spoilers

Warnings: None

The Aroma of Home ( Tanjiro Kamado x Reader )

For months, Tanjiro had always enjoyed your company.

He first met you during a mission, a demon managed to corner him and he could barely lift up his katana. He was battered up and was beyond exhausted. Nezuko was nowhere to be found, and he was left to his own devices. The demon lunged at Tanjiro, but the boy did not feel the pain or impact that he expected.

He could only stare in awe as a young Demon Slayer stood in front him, katana unsheathed as the demon faded away into dust. Your eyes were glowing as you stared at him, the gentle wind blowing around your hair gracefully. The moonlight mirrored your figure perfectly, giving you an elegant sparkle.

You held out a hand, and your lips curved up into a soft smile. He lifted his palm to hold onto yours, and felt his face running red at how soft your hands were. Then, your soothing voice echoed out to him for the first time that made pleasant shivers run up to his spine.

"Are you alright?"

You could say you made a lasting impression on the boy.

The last thing he recalled before blacking out of fatigue was your scent. His nose had picked up a beautiful fragrance that was so familiar and pleasant. He basked in the comfort of your aroma as your scent embraced his body with such tender warmth. It felt so calming and for a moment, it gave him a sense of security and peace that distracted him from the cruel world.

Your scent dearly reminded him of home.

After that night, he was determined to get to know you. However, befriending your seemed like a challenge.

Each time he would come near you and try to strike up a conversation, you would tense up and scurry away from his warm presence. He did not understand why, and negative thoughts started to consume him from the inside out. Did he do something wrong? Did he bother you? Do you not enjoy his presence? Do you hate him?

He would be damned if he said this out loud, but he yearned to catch even just a fraction of your endearing scent.

It wasn't until Zenitsu snapped him out of his pity party and said that you were just shy. Tanjiro mentally facepalmed to himself at this revelation. He felt stupid for thinking such negative thoughts, and the boy revised his plans for future attempts to get to know you. However, he felt the blood rushing to his face as conflicting emotions start to overwhelm him when he recalled the way you presented yourself during that fateful night.

You mean to say, that the strong and beautiful girl who saved my life is shy?!

After that, he started to approach you in a more gentle manner, trying so hard not to startle you. Little by little, you started to warm up to him. Eventually, you became close friends. You even became friends with Nezuko, and it warmed his heart so much!

He valued your friendship to a high regard, the little moments where the two of you would laugh and joke about the tiny things would always bring a smile to his face. He didn't mind that you were a little awkward and shy at times, it just made you look more sweet and adorable to him! Just recalling these random memories just makes his day, and he wouldn't trade his relationship with you for the world.

Not only that, he has great admiration for your swordsmanship and skills as a Demon Slayer. Each time you would wield your katana, Tanjiro would always seem to learn something new from you. When the two of you would be assigned together for missions, it would be a lie to say that the boy would not be ecstatic.

He would always be honored to have you as his partner, and he might not admit it, but he can't help but gawk at the sight of you during battle. The way you would just look all focused and intense during an encounter with a demon makes him feel something that would bring fluttering butterflies to his belly. The way your face contorts into one filled with intensity and determination, contrasting with your normal timid and cute face, makes the Crimson-eyed slayer feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Not only that, he couldn't seem to get enough of your cozy and homey scent. Each time his nose would catch a glimpse of your endearing aroma, the radiant energy would come back and surround his body with such warmth and tenderness.

He loved that about you. You reminded him so much of home.

But then, one day, you began to emit something unfamiliar.

He found that you were starting to smell different. Your scent had started to change to a heavy fragrance of roses and jasmines instead of the homey aroma that he loved so much. He paid no mind of this at first, thinking maybe you just did something different and experimented for the day. But as days went by, the floral fragrances intensified, and the cozy scent that you originally had fully subsided.

It was starting to bother Tanjiro. You had every right to do what you wanted with your body, and he fully respected that. But he can't help but miss your natural and snuggly scent. The longer the floral fragrances intensify, the more anxious and fidgety he grows. He begins to struggle as desperately tries to fight how his body yearns to feel the warm embrace of your natural scent again.

This goes on, until one day, his selfishness gets the best of him.

He was resting at a Wisteria house, after a particularly difficult mission. Fortunately for him, your were assigned as his partner. You became close enough with the Burgundy-haired boy that you didn't mind that you shared a room with him. It wasn't like you were alone with him too, after all, Nezuko's box just layed comfortably across the two of you.

He layed in his futon, as he was anxiously waits for your return. His mind was going haywire, as he repeatedly practices his questions towards your distinctive new fragrance. He fidgeted on his hands and began to sweat relentlessly, he felt so ashamed that he had the audacity to ask you such questions.

After what felt like eternity, footsteps rang around and you entered the room. Your hair was still damp, signalling that you came back from taking a shower. The strong fragrance of roses and jasmine becomes evident in the air, as the boy's nose scrunch from the overwhelming sickly sweet smell.

"You're still awake." You spoke up, taking a small towel to pat on your damp hair to dry it out.

"Mhm." Tanjiro barely exhales out. He sweated like a sinner in church, large balls of sweat just running down in his face endlessly.

You take a good look at him, and you were puzzled as to why he was sweating and shaking so much. Placing the towel aside, you moved in the direction of your futon, which was placed next to Tanjiro. You sat down, tilted your head slightly as uncertainty and doubt began to grow.

"What's wrong?" You asked, and Tanjiro could feel his soul just leaving his body as Shame completely engulfed his entire being.

Mustering all the courage and dignity he had left, he inhaled deeply. He sat up on his futon, and looked at you dead in the eye.

"Why do you smell so different now?"

Tanjiro immediately knew his mistake, he felt all the color drain from his face and his eyes were blown wide by what he just said.

THAT WAS NOT WHAT HE WANTED TO SAY!

Your eyes grew as big as plates, clearly taken aback, and Tanjiro just screams and screeches in the inside. He felt all the deities just look at him with utter disappointment as all the honor and moral integrity he had left completely abandoned him. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! He wanted to crawl and hide into the corner at how absolutely stupid he sounded! He felt so ashamed, and he wanted to just disappear into the ends of the Earth.

You looked down to avoid his gaze, and chuckled quietly. "You noticed, huh?" You whispered out.

The Crimson-eyed boy's mind continued to hurl out insults for his act dishonor, screaming at him to commit Seppuku to atone for his crime. Immediately, he stood in front of you, and proceeded to bow deeply repeatedly.

"I'm sorry! That question was too much! Please forget about it and forgive me!" Tanjiro shouts out, his pace never faltering as he continued to bow in front of you. You raised your hands, waving them desperately for him to calm down.

After a few minutes of constant bowing and words of reassurance, Tanjiro finally calms down. You look at him, eyes glistening with an emotion that the Hanafuda-clad slayer cannot describe. The boy can't stop his trembling, the atmosphere in the room felt absolutely suffocating as the two of you basked in the awkward silence.

"I.. I figured you would ask sooner or later." Your voice resonated, breaking the silence. You scrunch up your face, and proceeded to sigh deeply.

"When I knew about your keen sense of smell, I suddenly felt... self-conscious..." You started to explain, averting your gaze from the boy to look down at the floor. "I was worried.. that I.. that I.."

You struggled to find your words, and you could already feel the shame and doubt bubble up in you. It was embarrassing to say the least, and you couldn't tell what Tanjiro's thoughts were in his head. Negative thoughts clouded your mind, and you were more than convinced that Tanjiro was judging you at this very moment.

"I was worried that I smell bad, and I didn't really want you to deal with my disgusting scent everyday. So I started to use different methods so I could smell more pleasing to you." You felt so awkward, and you wanted to be anywhere else than here. Tanjiro didn't move or say anything, and you couldn't tell what expression he was making because you thought the ground was more interesting.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grasps your own. You whipped your head upwards and were met face to face with Tanjiro's Crimson ones, which were filled with determination.

"Please don't say that!" The boy starts, and your eyes went round from his sudden outburst. "You're wonderful the way you are! You never were unpleasant to me, in fact, it's the opposite!" His grip on your hand grew tighter, but in a comforting way as he his continued speech.

"I cherished your aroma, it really made me feel relaxed and peaceful on the inside! Every time you would be close to me, your scent would just bundle me up and wrap me with so much warmth! So, please, don't say that your smell was disgusting! I respect if you want to continue doing what you were doing, but please do consider my next words!"

He leans forward, and you could only look back in complete disbelief. Your lower lip trembles at his close proximity, and you could feel blood rushing to your face as a reassuring grin appears on the boy's features.

"I adored your natural scent because you reminded me so much of home! So don't doubt yourself because you're absolutely amazing just the way you are!"

You're holding back a choked sob, as your eyes start to well up in tears. How, how could anyone be so compassionate and caring towards you? Tanjiro engulfs you in a love-filled embrace, and you happily reciprocate. You started to cry out of the sheer amount of happiness, a wide smile of relief transforming your face.

"Thank you."

#tanjiro x reader #tanjirou x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #tanjirou kamado x reader #demon slayer x reader #moji writes

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reliciron · 4 years

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Eternal Empire After Effects

In addition to that post I made a while back about how your characters deal with either the boost in Force sensitivity or the brand new sensitivity for your smugglers/troopers/agents/bounty hunters. I want to talk about the general fucked up-ness that the Commander has to deal with post-KotET.

Like DAMN. Bare minimum, they’ve had to deal with carbonite poisoning, the general mind games of Valkorian, and then they had their mind literally broken in the last chapter. At worst, they get all that, plus taking a lightsaber to the gut. To say nothing of having to fight an impossible war for a little over a year straight with everyone’s hopes and dreams riding around on their shoulders.

A lot of the posts I’ve seen about other people’s ocs has some form of lingering effects from everything. And I just want to talk about it for a minute, cause I live for filling in the scenes we don’t see. [Take this with a grain of salt, as I’ve never played a dark side character, so my perspective will be skewed.]

Long term physical effects:

They were poisoned slowly over the course of 5 years, you can’t tell me that one little dart thing can fix that, at least not right away. This could take the form of lingering nausea, migraines, dizziness. The symptoms of heavy metal poisoning would fit well here. And I hc my consular as having some permanent nerve pain from it.

The stab on Asylum is absolute bullshit in the game. Valkorian or no, there’s no way they’d be walking out. I think I posted a pic I took before, but the stab is easily close enough for the heat transfer to damage the spine. Bone cracks and warps with heat, so you can see the problem there. The wound is almost dead on for where the stomach sits and the lungs, liver, kidney, and intestines are all in range to get badly burnt (yeah I know, alien anatomy might be different, but we’re assuming its mostly the same).

We’ve seen what a lightsaber can do to a blast door in The Phantom Menace, take that and apply it to a person, and Arcann held that blade there a loooong time.

Yes, Valkorian saves them, but I think of it more as he kept them from dying, and not, he completely stopped the blade from cooking them from the inside out. So the three days Lana mentioned are horseshit. The Gravestone’s tiny ass med-bay is absolutely not equipped to handle an injury like this.

I always figured a better way was Valkorian kept them alive long enough for Lana to threaten her way onto an appropriate station and made the doctors fix them. Even so, getting what amounts to several organ transplants, implants to bypass possible spinal chord damage, replacement ribs and vertebra, and a whole lot of skin and muscle grafts will leave your Commander pretty messed up, even with magical Star Wars tech and Force magic. And their allotted recovery time seems to be the length of the base’s construction on Odessen, so there’s no way in hell they’re really done healing by the time they have to go back out into battle.

Specific injuries aside, a year is a long time to fight more or less constantly. At least during the base game you sort of had rests between chapters. They’re gonna rack up an impressive list of injuries, alongside wear and tear like their knees and feet having trouble from the constant running and jumping. And their elbows and shoulders will break down from hours upon hours of absorbing the recoil of a gun or the constant flurry and clash of a lightsaber.

Long term mental effects:

As ugly as the physical stuff is, the mental effects are just as bad. Depending on what class they are, having the goddamn Sith Emperor riding shotgun in their head will fuck them up big time.

Classes who faced off with him more-or-less directly, like the Knight, Consular, and Warrior, are going to have the worst time of it because they KNOW what this sort of thing leads to. The warrior has seen the dead eyed puppet on Voss and knows that could be them soon. The consular had to deal with the emperors children and the First Son. They’ve seen a prominent and powerful Jedi master absolutely crumple under the power of the emperor and he wasn’t even IN there. And Knights have already experienced the emperor’s control first hand.

Not to say the others won’t have trouble with it, it’s just that the reasons will be a little less direct. The smuggler and bounty hunter are used to being their own people, not tied down to anything or accountable to anyone, and now there’s the threat that everything they have will be taken from them and there’s no amount of sneaking or shooting that will save them. Troopers built up their command from basically nothing and now they’re Republic heroes, but Valkorian now threatens the lives of everyone they’ve sworn to protect. The agent is easy, they’ve suffered mind control before, they’ve been slaves in their own body, and they’re terrified of it happening again. And inquisitors were literal slaves who clawed their way to the top, and they’d sooner die than be a slave again.

So just having that asshole there means constant stress for the whole of KotFE and KotET. Insomnia must be a given. How do you know you’ll wake up as YOU? That Valkorian won’t hollow you out in your sleep and walk around in your skin the next day? And for the Knight, Agent, and Inquisitor, I’d think panic attacks are probably a thing, even if they don’t let anyone see it.

The stab will definitely cause some trauma. Pretty sure any wound that gruesome would. And if they didn’t have nightmares before, they sure do now and I’m willing to bet that they might shy away from lightsabers for a while, which leaves an interesting dilemma considering they’re in a war with Force-users, and some of them are Force-users themselves.

Fighting a guerrilla war with an absurdly powerful adversary has to be incredibly taxing, especially for classes who’ve never had to command anything. Smugglers and Bounty Hunters are very screwed here, assuming they care about running the Alliance well. And the burden of saving the galaxy is a heavy one. I can definitely see classes who have saved the galaxy multiple times to be getting increasing bitter about always having to be the one to clean up the messes. Why are THEY the ones who always have to suffer? Why isn’t there ever a hero to save THEM when they need it?!

Agents get their own little special bit here with the bullshit that is Vaylin’s conditioning. They know exactly the kind of misery she’s going through, the powerlessness that one single phrase or word causes. I can understand that the writers couldn’t figure out or bother with a whole separate scene of the agent refusing to use the conditioning, cause then they’d have to figure out how to not have Vaylin murder them on the spot. But goddamn we could’ve at least seen them struggle with it! Maybe an extra few lines of them pleading with Vaylin because they desperately don’t want to use her control phrase. Ugh, at least behind the scenes an agent can have a break down about how they’ve become exactly like the intelligence officers who’d decided that they were too much of a liability to go without a leash they could pull. And now they’ve pulled an identical leash on Vaylin.

And then we have their mind being broken. That could be a post in and of itself. Valkorian came within a hair’s breadth of destroying them entirely, and they were so broken that they didn’t even know their own name. And in the space of 10 or so minutes, they scrape themselves together and fight a god. It’s very impressive (and I’ve got my own issues with that fight) but I don’t think you can pull yourself together that fast after being that messed up without some lingering issues.

Chronic insomnia and night terrors, full blown PTSD, panic disorders, severe anxiety; something THAT traumatic will absolutely leave marks.

And after that? They just keep going. Yeah, things calm down, but they’re still at the head of a very powerful faction now (if not ruling Zakuul), there’s no going back after this. And they’ve got a massive restoration project ahead of them as tensions continue to simmer between the Republic and Empire. The more dutiful characters must be near the end of their rope. There’s no rest, just the next fire to put out, and they continue to run themselves into the ground. And the more flighty characters are now forever shackled by the Alliance. There’s no flying off into the sunset for them. No more anonymity as a bounty hunter or smuggler. Their old life is over, whether the wanted it or not. And how can they really relax when there’s this many people looking at them for direction. They’ve become just like those asshole military leaders who they used to mock.

And for just about all of my characters, they hide it. No one can know that they’re falling apart at the seams. Either it’s about personal pride and acting unphased cause they’re just THAT good, or because they’re trying to be the leader the Alliance deserves and don’t want to disappoint or frighten them by showing just how badly they’re coping. Either way there will be a breaking point.

And even after it all comes out in the open, and they (hopefully) get the help they need. It’s never completely over. Chronic pain and fatigue, depression and anxiety, persistent insomnia; these things don’t just disappear, they’re an ongoing struggle that helps color their future actions.

I just… I really like considering things like this because it hits close to home. Seeing them struggle with some of the things I deal with makes them feel more like people. Cause god knows the writers aren’t gonna put this kind of stuff in there.

#swtor #mental health discussion #chronic pain discussion #physical injury discussion #kotet #kotfe #relicwrites

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halfwaythereroyalwrites · 4 years

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Go To Sleep (The Mandalorian x Reader) - Kilig

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warning: This can be read alone or as part of The Mandalorian’s Kilig series. Cursing. Soft moments with The Child and The Mandalorian.

Word count: 1,485 words

A/N: I am going to be posting my writing on this side blog rather than my main blog from now on. Mostly because I want it helps my mind keep organized. I’m very excited to keep expanding on the Kilig series. Let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist or have any requests.

****Here is a link to several organizations you can donate to in order to support the protests and the Black Lives Matter movement.

Kilig is a Tagalog word to describe the feeling of excitement and exhilaration and possibly embarrassment from anything remotely romantic.

Part 2 + Masterlist

_______________________________________________

The Child refused to sleep.

High-pitched wailing traveled throughout the Razor Crest. The crying reverberated off the metal walls, significantly amplifying both the sound and my deep desperation to calm The Child down. I had him in my arms, bouncing up and down rhythmically while trying to shush him to sleep. A combination of his tears, snot, and drool were seeping through my shirt whilst his green, little fists softly beat against my shoulder in protest.

“Please, please, please,” I pleaded. “Go to sleep.” Hot tears of frustration were pricking the back of my eyes. The Child has had trouble sleeping since Mando left to hunt a quarry down days ago. This behavior of leaving with little to no communication in between his departure and his arrival was not out of the ordinary. He would only ever briefly call in to check on The Child and me during his bounty hunting. Then he would go about his business in order to provide for all three of you. However, The Child grew increasingly aware of Din’s absence, leaving me to deal with the repercussions. I stopped rocking the child, setting him down on the floor. I unceremoniously laid down on my back next to him, in defeat, arms and legs flayed out. I closed my eyes and took a big breath before looking up to meet his wide, black eyes still shining and rimmed with tears. “What do you want me to do? He’s not gonna be back for a while.” I questioned exasperatedly. His large ears slowly flopped down — lips quivering — before his tiny head tilted upwards and let out a cry that increased in volume until it left my ears vibrating. I groaned and closed my eyes. I decided to take a moment to recollect myself before battling with The Child to get him to sleep. Breathe. Relax. I got this. Take in this quiet moment. Let the peace and silence take over…

Peace….silence…my eyes shot open in panic. I pushed myself up in alarm and looked all around me.

Shit. The Child was gone.

…Mando was going to kill me.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry! Please come out.” I hurriedly searched behind every crevice, panel, and under any surface of the Razor Crest’s lower level. I attempted to coax him out with promises of treats and games to no avail. My chest felt crushed under the panic of possibly losing The Child. My only job was to take care of him! The thought of Mando coming home to find that I lost The Child forced bile into my throat — worsening the panic running through my veins. I climbed the ladder to the upper level and entered the cockpit to my left. “Mini Mando? Please be in here.”

I received silence in return. I turned around to search the room opposite the cockpit until the sounds of soft cooing reached my ears. I turned back around and padded over to the control panel to find a small, green figure standing on it, playing with one of the control sticks. I plopped down into the pilot’s seat, leaning back to let the weight of panic leave my body. After a few minutes, The Child turned around to face me. His eyes were no longer rimmed with tears, but his features were still fraught with sadness. He slowly plopped down on the panel and let his head drop, sniffling. My heart broke for The Child who simply missed his father. I leaned forward and held out my finger for him to hold onto.

“He’s gonna be back before you know it, little one. You and I gotta be strong in the meantime.” He looked at me, ears moving up and down as if in understanding. He and I stayed like this for a while. The Child played with my fingers while my mind wandered to thoughts of Mando. The Mandalorian was not sociable by any means when we had met on Tatooine. I had been helping Peli Motto with repairing the highly damaged Razor Crest. I wasn’t as handy as Peli, but she called me and insisted she needed all the help she can get since Mando insisted on no droids. The Child and I had bonded while Peli worked tirelessly on correcting the damage accrued on the ship. Even Mando took notice when he returned to the hangar looking for Toro. Toro held The Child and I hostage when he attempted to double-cross Mando. This attempt didn’t end well for the aspiring bounty hunter who was quickly subdued by Mando with the help of Peli. As soon as the sparks died down, The Child waddled over to me for comfort.

Bearing in mind Peli Motto’s criticism of his childcare — or lack thereof — he invited me to be a part of his crew as The Child’s caretaker. That fateful day that was supposed to set me off on many adventures across the galaxy. Instead, most of my days were confined to the ship, making sure The Child is safe and fed, giving Mando some peace of mind while focusing on his job.

The Mandalorian. Mando. What can I say about the infuriating, beskar-clad Mandalorian who drove me insane? His imposing nature made me feel safe whenever we landed in sketchier planets, surrounded by outlaws and people who were more-than-curious why a Mandalorian was hanging around these parts. His armored figure often acted as a protective shield between me, The Child, and the rest of the world. What he gave me in protection and income should have made up for the lack of company. Should have. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to know The Mandalorian on a deeper level — past the small talk. Past the comfortable silences. Past the safety he provides despite the constant danger of the lives you lead.

It had only been a short time since I agreed to be part of his crew, but the comfort and ease I felt whenever I was with Mando was immediate. I needed to know why. Why did it feel right being here?

I was startled out of my train of thought by The Child leaning the weight of his upper body against my hand. He was quickly falling asleep where he sat on the control panel. His eyes were fluttering open and shut, fighting against the temptation of sleep. Watching his heavy-lidded eyes reminded my own body that I have been awake just as long as he has. I yawned and scooped up his small, pudgy body into my lap where he quickly fell asleep. I leaned back into the pilot’s seat and let the sleep wash over me.

I don’t know how long it was since The Child and I fell asleep, but it was long enough for me to miss the sound of the ship being boarded. I woke up to the hiss of the cockpit doors opening. My body immediately went rigid, adrenaline spiking through my veins at the thought of a possible intruder. I made a move to rise from the pilot’s seat to face the intruder when a gloved hand fell on my shoulder.

“It’s just me.” The sound of Mando’s firm, modulated voice flooded relief into my once-rigid body.

“Hi, Mando,” I yawned in greeting, closing my eyes once more and cuddling The Child closer to me. “So how was the hunting?”

“Good.”

“That’s good.” I was quickly falling asleep again, the fatigue of caring for a crying baby for endless hours anchoring me to the pilot’s seat. I felt his eyes gazing at the two of us: The Child softly snoring in my lap and me sleeping with my head leaning on my shoulder. There was a silence before I heard his heavy footsteps leave the cockpit, the doors hissing behind him. A few short moments later, I heard the doors open again and his heavy footsteps pad over to the pilot’s seat. I kept my eyes closed, wondering what he was going to do to eject us from his seat. Instead, I felt the weight of a blanket settle in my lap, covering The Child and my legs in the process. His blanket carried his familiar scent, and it took much of my willpower not to smile at the sweet gesture. He stared at us for a short time before leaving the cockpit, probably to work on the ship or buy supplies at the nearest marketplace. When the sounds of his footsteps softly faded away, my eyes fluttered open. I looked down at The Child who clutched onto my forearm, his body covered by the blanket Mando draped over the two of you. I rearranged the blanket to cover as much of my body as possible without covering The Child entirely. A tiny smile made its way to my face as I drifted off to sleep once more.

_______________________________________________

Part 2 + Masterlist

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tomoonine · 4 years

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♫ Be Mine | heartstrings

▶ Be Mine (내꺼 하자) — INFINITE [kim geonhak ; royalty au] - ONEUS

I wonder if will you get hurt again In the road of constant pain This silent war is too much for you With a shield of concern, I will be in front of you Like the moon, I will turn around you Leave your love That grows in fire and look at me I will cover your deep pierced scar, I will make you smile I will make you mine

☽. requested: yes; anon word count: 784 words check out the entire drabble collection here!

He just wants this to stop. Both of you are tired from continuously battling, and honestly whoever wins won’t even matter. The Resistance have already breached castle grounds and Geonhak can only wish that the casualties were not as grave as he expected. Especially for his friends.

The entire kingdom looks terrible. There’s fire at every corner, and Geonhak is certain that the red splotches along the walls aren’t from the fruit that surround the castle. It’s a complete wasteland, and it’s hard to breathe. Geonhak feels fatigued from fighting. All his knives are pinned to the trees and his sword is starting to feel heavier in his grasp. He doesn’t even bother wiping off the sweat that trickles past his eyebrows, deeming it more favorable to check up on you.

You’re across Geonhak, with one knee to the ground and your arm clutching onto your weapon for support. He can tell that you’re just as tired as he is, with the way that your chest rises and falls. Your white militia uniform is dirty from running around the soil. Even the Royal family’s crest emblazoned on your clothes had been tarnished. There’s a bit of blood oozing on your cheek from the knife that barely grazed your complexion. He genuinely feels bad for doing that to you and he just wants to end this so he can take care of your wounds; but you’re the enemy.

“Why are you still here?” You yell at him, although there’s a strain in the way you project your voice. There’s an indescribable aura around you when you snap your head up to look at him, and Geonhak can’t tell if you’re angry or hurt. “The Resistance won, just end this and leave me to rot.”

The venom laced in your words hurts Geonhak. He can’t believe that you’re so convinced that he’d throw away all the memories you shared, all the hardships you faced, and the promises you used to keep. He doesn’t understand how everything turned out this way. Both of you were hurt from all the injustices the monarchs have brought upon your people, but why did you choose to side with the enemy? Why are you walking the harder path?

“You know that I won’t leave you, (Y/N).”

You bite back the tears that threaten to escape; you hate how he says that with so much conviction. “I left you, Geonhak. They promised me a better life, they offered protection for my family... I’ve kissed their feet to get where I am now, I’m no different from them. Just kill me alrea--”

“I know you better than them!” Geonhak shouts back. “You know this is all wrong. You know that they’re corrupt. You may have sided with them, but it’s only because they took advantage of you during a moment of weakness.” As he talks, he drops his weapons to the ground and slowly approaches you. Despite the fatigue, you stand on your guard. “What matters is that you learn from this, leave all this, and come back to us.”

At his invitation, you see Geonhak in front of you with a hand held up in front of you. You take in his figure, a lean body clad in black and red. He’s changed so much, but his face still holds the same soft expression you could recall. It’s a stark contrast from the white clothes that adorned your figure, but the dark color looks dashing on him.

At your silence, Geonhak clears his throat to speak. “Keeping silent isn’t a good option either, you know that if I leave you here alive, your co-militia will hunt you down. We need to fight now, (Y/N). We need to be a voice for those who can’t, and we need to mobilize. It’s not too late.”

The tears drop down faster than you anticipated, and as you raise your hand to wipe them away, you suddenly feel the inclination to hold his hand. And when you do, the bliss that comes after is overwhelming. When Geonhak slowly pulls you up, you don’t hesitate to hug him tight and cry on his chest. He wraps his arms around you and rests his hand on your head.

Geonhak shuts his eyes for a while and listens to your whimpers. He will never forgive them for all the injustices they’ve done, and he will never forgive them for taking advantage of you. You two promised a long time ago to protect the marginalized and the silenced. But as Geonhak holds you tight, he tells himself that he will protect you, that he will take responsibility from now on, and that he will love you even more than before.

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razorblade180 · 4 years

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Twin Snowflakes 18: A better day

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU!” Yang shouted, her voice echoing through the summer Menagerie air at her young, ten year old daughter. “What did I say about fighting!?” Veronica wiped her soiled face and snarled. Her eyes were completely feral and nails extended.

“STOP YELLING AT ME! YOU’RE HURTING MY EARS!” Veronica tried running past Yang but her arm was grabbed and pulled back. She kept pulling and struggling but couldn’t break free from the grip. “Let me go!”

“We aren’t done talking!” Yang said firmly, try to keep her voice lower than before. “You have to learn to control your temper!”

“I can’t!”

“Can’t, or won’t?” Yang watched her daughter’s eyes start to water.

“What does it matter!? They’d hate me anyways and it’s you and mom’s fault! I HATE YOU!!” Her words stunned Yang. Veronica took the opportunity to bite her hand, making Yang wince and let go. Veronica sprinted off on all fours into the jungle, crying. Leaving Yang feeling more concerned than hurt.

xxxx

That same concern would continue on multiple occasions. Sometimes more frequently or intense than others. Now it reared its ugly head again as she sat at the bottom of the Schnee manor stairs waiting for her kid to walk through the front door with Nick. Jaune and Weiss were also waiting after Penny had given them the call about what apparently happened at school. They definitely weren’t happy, but they too were more concerned, considering the report on Nick’s health. It was common for the boy to get under the weather. Constant working does that to the body.

“Any minute now.” Jaune said, the calmest of them all. “Remember, let’s not bombard them right out of the g-” the front door opened before he could finish. Both mothers all but ran to it. “Gate…”

“Veronica Nala Belladonna.” Was all the girl heard as she entered the room. Middle names were never a good sign. She winced as if she had gotten a cut at the words and looked at her mother stare at her. Veronica’s ears folded as she let out a sigh. “I know, I messed up. Thought I had it under control but I couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Ya think?” Yang huffed. “Why do you think I tell you all the time to let me make you a breakfast that’ll help. What if you had gotten hurt? Or seriously injured another kid!? We’re lucky the media doesn’t know you’re here yet either or they’d-” The carefully controlled lecture tone was brought to a halt when Veronica walked forward and put her face down in Yang’s chest like a pillow. A muffled “I’m sorry” was heard surprisingly. Veronica looked up into Yang’s matching lilac eyes while she still rested her tired head. “Veronica?”

“I’m still fatigued. It was bad, not the worse,but it was pretty bad.” She pointed at Nick to draw attention to the bruise he still had. Veronica stood up straight in front of his parents and bowed at the best. “Your son was hurt because of me. I apologize…” Nick walked you to her, sheepishly rubbing his head. “It was my bad actually. You know me, charging in without a plan.” He tried laughing but the pain in his nose made it difficult.

Weiss shook her head. “That I understand just fine, but running out of school?”

“I panicked.” He admitted, “also I caught a slight fever so grounding me then sending me to my room is a little mute.” Nick joked. He wanted to break the tension. All the parents looked at each other before turning back. “We aren’t grounding you.” Jaune spoke, “Flynt called and the two boys involved already gave their side of the story and at minimum, Veronica and a student body member will visit his office tomorrow to get the other side of the story.”

“That’s fair.” Veronica stretched. Her body was still trying to settle down a bit. “Is it alright if I go lay down for a bit? Please?” Yang gave her an observing look. Veronica could tell she was looking at her features to make sure she was okay. “Ma I’m fine, also full. Penny’s lab turned into a glorified pizza place.” Yang motioned to the stairs and Veronica went on her way.

“Take a shower first!” Yang chimed.

“Will do.” Nick watched the girl disappear before looking back at the grown ups who were still beaming at him. “Uhhh yes?” Yang walked over and patted his head.

“Thanks for looking after her. I owe ya.”Nick smiled, giving a thumbs up. “Seeing what you said happen in action was an experience. I’ll be sure to watch out for friendly fire next time.”

“Your nose should be broken. Veronica hits hard.” Jaune chimed. He activated his semblance and quickly healed his son’s face. “All better.”

“Thaaaank you!” He sniffled. It was hard not to wish the Arc semblance was the hereditary one sometimes. “I’m going to head off to my room too. I hope Summer remembers all of our stuff. Running out of school isn’t a really good excuse for missing assignments I assume.” Nick took his leave, going to his room as well. Step by step through the halls brought a rhythmic pounding to his head. Sluggish didn’t begin to describe how he felt. Reaching his room felt like a dream come true, or a fever dream anyways. The boy basically stumbled in. Minutes later, Weiss knocked on his door before entering without permission. Her arms crossed and the corner of her lips turned down as she looked at her son that sat on the edge of his bed. His face was redder than down stairs and all of his enthusiasm had vanished; not like it was actually there to begin with. Weiss knew a brave face when she saw one. She knelt down and pressed her hand against Nick’s forehead. Weiss might as well have been touching a heater.

“I look worse than it actually is.” Nick weakly smiled. His mother was having none of it and frankly, he was fortunate for that. Gods know he wouldn’t slow down on his own.

“No school tomorrow for you.” Weiss ordered. “Go run a cold shower for your fever. I’ll make you some stew and bring medicine. This bed is going to be your best friend for at least the rest of the day, no debate.” Weiss waited for protest but it never came. First Veronica and now him, they really were at their limit. Weiss helped Nick up and walked him to one of their many bathrooms. “You know, it’s been awhile since you threw a party or anything. Not even an ‘outing’ of some sort.” Weiss put emphasis on outing. Both of her kids would occasionally want to go around town at night to relax when in reality, both of them would sneak down to Mantle’s harbor. There were plenty of empty warehouses to have underground concerts and raves. Both Jaune and Weiss knew about it but Weiss can’t really blame them. She used to do similar and worse things when she snuck out. Rich kids can’t escape rich problems. The only thing she’s actually said about their late night adventures was an off hand comment about how they better be as clean as they were coming home, as they were leaving the house; the twins immediately knew she wasn’t referring to surface level dirt. As long as that order was followed and nothing extreme happened then she’d let them have freedom.

“I thought about it but too much is going on. Maybe after the tournament. It would be terrible to have some kind of incident before it.”

That was fair. The twins would be crushed otherwise. “Good idea. After the both of you compete, you should do some kind of fun after party. I’ll let you use the yacht.” Weiss saw Nick’s eyes light up a bit. She’d never understand why he loved that boat so much. “Sounds good?”

Nick chuckled, “Sounds great, and it’ll sound perfect once I win gold.”

xxxx

Karma is a dangerous being and Summer was finding that out the hard way. Not only did she have to carry Veronica and Nick’s belongings, but was alone! Valerie was busy with after school activities so Summer never got the chance to ask for help, which might’ve been for the best. If Valerie wanted space from Nick then there was no reason to complain when she realizes that he got into a fight. Though it might’ve been that kind of thinking that put Summer in this situation. Two bags and a backpack was heavier than she’d imagined. Thank goodness it wasn’t a textbook day. Still, all of Vee’s belongings took time to put up. At least she was getting work done before shit hit the fan, especially her designs. Summer tried to pick up the pace. Following the order to get some calcium in her was already paying off. It’s only been a day and yet Summer felt good, more alert even. A good and a bad thing unfortunately; Shiva is no doubt jumping for joy as well. The annoyance was getting one of few things that she wanted. Conversely, Summer was starting to think that maybe this change in her diet could potentially mean resisting Shiva might be easier. Anything would help at this point. It was a day in and day out battle that Summer hated. Her body, her mind, even her very soul, bit by bit she could that she was breaking in the worst way possible. Like glass on the verge of cracking by a high not. If she wasn’t careful of Shiva’s antics then all hell would freeze over.

Summer made it a few more blocks before feeling a little tired. If only she made it to bus in time. She wanted to take a break but the winter season brought the dark early. Darkness meant it got colder and that was a major no no. “What I wouldn’t give for a speed semblance right now, or a functioning summon to carry all this crap.” She thought, a little irritated by the fact her brother actually made an Arma Gigas. “Can’t let him get too far ahead of me. I’ll never pull my weight then.” Summer let her thoughts drift off a little too much. The girl didn’t pay attention to a truck clearing snow off the road and onto the sidewalks. By the time she did, a wave was headed right for her. The girl gasped, quickly activating her thermals. The weight of everything made it impossible to dodge so she just had to endure, until a warm blast of air that felt like it belonged to the tropics, brushed by her and melted the snow. Summer was confused by what just happened.

“Across the street.” A voice called out. Summer looked behind her to see Eliza standing on the opposite side sipping a coffee. “You have a real problem with spacing out, you know that right?” Eliza wasn’t planning on going in the same direction as Summer but decided to cross the street to her since they were clearly going to end up talking. “Can’t you, like blow gusts of wind if you try hard enough?” Eliza didn’t know the specifics of Summer’s condition, but the sensitive Schnee had told her a little of it in an attempt to explain many different absences to both school and meetings.

Summer clicked her tongue, “I could’ve tried, but then the road would probably get ice on it. What brings you this way?” Summer made a mischievous smirk. “Ooo were you going to check in my brother? How sweet.” She playfully laughed until Eliza scared her with a stern look. “It was a joke…”

“Yeah a terrible one.” Eliza deadpanned. She freed Summer of the backpack, choosing to carry it herself. “But I did hear a little of what happened in excruciating detail.”

Summer was perplexed.“Th...that sentence doesn’t make-”

“I will help you all the way to your front gate and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Don’t you have somewhere you had to be? You don’t have to go out of your way for me.”

Eliza pulled out a gold pocket watch. “I got time, they’ll still be open for a while.” She could tell Summer was interested in what she was talking about. “I’m telling you…”

“Awww, well thanks anyway.” She smiled. Eliza started walking, ignoring the happy gesture. “You can thank me by keeping your brother out of trouble. I need him focused on our rematch.” Summer could only feel sorry for her brother now. His luck with girls was atrocious. All of them want to take him down a peg in one way or another! Even she wanted to outdo him! Summer made a mental reminder to ease up on him in the upcoming days, except for singing. Family or not, he was going to sing every note well with passion or she would personally throw him off her stage. Mediocrity had no place next her. Then again, sharing the stage was always a big problem.

“You’re spacing out again!” Eliza shouted, already several feet away. Summer yelped and began to jog. “Sorry!”

xxxx

The extra company definitely made the walk feel shorter, even if they barely talked. Summer did notice that Eliza’s coffee was perpetually hot despite the weather. It made her wonder just how much control Eliza had over her magic. It had been some time since she saw her actually practiced it. “Maybe she found a good training spot and that’s where she’s headed?” Summer thought as she climbed the steps to her front door. Surprisingly, Ruby stood at the top of them. “Auntie?”

“Hmm? Oh hey!” The huntress said when she noticed Summer. “I’d say fancy meeting you here, but this is your house.” Ruby laughed at her own lame remark. Summer walked to the door and unlocked it for her.“Thank you!”

“Auntie it’s my house. I had to walk in too.”

“I can still say thank you. Now I can surprise Yang even further. Watch this.” Ruby closed the door behind them and ran to the middle of the room, cuffing her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice. “I wanna see my sister!” She sang.

The sound of quick footsteps traveled around another room until Yang slid into view in front of the kitchen doorway. The blonde sang back. “You can see your sister!” Ruby smiled and sang a little louder. “I wanna see my niece!!!!” Ruby held her arms straight up.

Veronica came through the second floor right on que. “You can see your niece!” She sang, falling right into Ruby’s arms. Followed by Yang hugging both of them. Summer always wondered where they got all that energy from. It could only be from their dad. Apparently it was genetic.

Summer waved Veronica’s bag. “Veronica come get your crap. It’s heavy.” The strap left her hand in the blink of an eye. Someone was clearly upset that I touched her stuff. “You could say thank you.”

“Yeah I could do that.” Was all Veronica said. Summer thought about starting an argument right then and there, but a bath was calling her name. “I’m going to warm up. Tell mom and dad I’m home.” On that note, up to her private bathroom she went.

Yang flicked Veronica’s forehead. “It’s not hard to be a little nice.”

“I will do that later. I still feel like a off.” The young faunus took a deep breath and covered her face with her bag. “Can you please...make some dinner, a dinner with actual meat?” She didn’t have to see Yang to know she was practically bouncing up and down.

“Let’s put some meat on those bones!” Yang cheered, running off. Not only was she happy for Veronica, but any day was a good day she could cook without following some rules a diet set up. Cooking should be fun and flavorful. Not filled with kale. “Ruby we can cook and chat like the old days. Get your but in here!”

Ruby looked at Vee. “Your mother is very excitable. That’s where you get that from.” Ruby rubbed her head then took off. Veronica could hear Weiss panic before the shouts started to sound happy. It was either because three fourths of the team was in the same spot, or she was secretly looking for help in the kitchen. Probably both if Veronica had to guess. She might’ve joined them but there was no way she could possibly deal with all of them at once at the moment. Instead she decided to see if Summer was competent enough to retrieve everything. It was certainly looking that way.

“Notes, lists, pens, journa- hold on…” Veronica reached for the journal and took a whiff. Odd, it smelled like Summer. That was a given, she had to put in the bag. What wasn’t right was each page. They all had her scent. Veronica could feel her stomach start to sink and her body shook a little. “That nosy...ugh!” Veronica didn’t waste time with the stairs and jumped right up to the second floor into her room, then crossed the hall. Both of her parents had taught her how important it was to respect boundaries ever since her semblance awakened but Veronica was having a hard time caring. Instead of knocking, she went through Summer’s door in a fit of anger. “HEY! Did y-”

“Gah!” Summer screamed, startled by the sudden entrance. So much in fact that the ground she sat on iced over faintly. The girl looked up at Veronica with tears that quickly tried to wipe away. “What...what do you want!?” She sniffled and groaned, equally annoyed as Veronica. But now Vee’s face looked less angry and more caught off guard. Something that pissed Summer off more. “What!? Can’t a girl cry in the comfort of her own room!?” She stood up and huffed. “It’s therapeutic! Oscar says sometimes you just need to take a minute and let all of your pent up feelings out so they don’t overwhelm you!” Summer couldn’t explain why she felt the need to defend her tears but she did.

Veronica simply looked at the girl. It would look pretty bad to chew her out while she’s crying, especially if she gets back on the floor. Though it was hard, Veronica took a breath and chose a slightly less aggressive approach, raising her journal. “Did you look through this?” She grumbled. Summer nodded slowly. Vee clenched her fist before continuing. “Why are you looking through my stuff?”

Summer could tell this wasn’t Veronica’s usual anger. No, this time she looked like she actually wanted to fight her. “I...I was curious my new outfit was in there. Then I kept flipping because your designs are actually pretty nice….” her voice trailed off. It had been awhile since she actually felt intimidated by the girl.

“Do not, and I repeat, do not go through my sketches unless I tell you to. Something that I probably will never do, got it?”

“Crystal.” Summer replied without delay.

“Good…” Veronica slowly stepped back until she reached the door. “I apologize… for not knocking.” She phased through the door, leaving Summer to continue whatever she wanted to do. Overreacting was a definite problem from Veronica. It was hard not to when she knew Summer saw the back of her book. Nothing but scratched out ideas and claws marks. If she was lucky, Veronica would know better than to ask.

“Great…” Veronica hissed. “Now two people feel like crying.” She tossed her journey into her room and went downstairs. After dinner she’d probably go to bed immediately. Today was a dud, she’d try to have a better day tomorrow.

xxxx

Tomorrow came sooner than expected. Thankfully the night was uneventful and the food was delicious. Veronica was feeling better about today, except for her meeting with the principal. That was gonna take the wind out of her sails. Vee rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and got dressed in her own uniforms that she managed to get yesterday before the chaos. It was still pretty early to leave the house. Time zone differences was still kicking her tail. “Best to stay inside for today. Ma will have a fit if I leave.” Veronica pulled out her scroll and texted Nick to see if he was awake, partly out of boredom and concern. Weiss had told her and Summer he was going to stay home today and they needed to be on their best behavior. A thumbs up emoji came up to signal that he indeed was awake and Veronica wasted no time quietly getting to his room.

The girl pushed gently on the door to his room and peeked in. “Pssssst!” She heard him chuckled and took it as an invitation to come inside. Nick still wasn’t looking too well. His face was less red, but the bags under his eyes said enough. “You should be sleeping.”

“I was until you texted me.” He watched his friend’s face drop. Veronica mentally chastised herself. “Of course he’s a light sleeper.” She thought. “Sorry, I could go if you want.”

“It’s fine, this works out.” He said in a sleepy voice that was strangely cute. “I wanna tell you to have a good day at school. Don’t let anyone piss you off okay?”

Veronica scrunched her face. That was easier said than done. “I’ll try my best, for you.” Nicholas laughed again and shook his head. “Do it for yourself, you dummy. I’ll be back tomorrow bright eyed and ready to go.”

“Yeah well you need some shut eye for that to happen first.”

“Yeah, yeah, one more thing-”

“I will play nice with Summer.” It was easy to predict that request. Nick smiled and dozed back off to sleep. Veronica dwelt the hair out of his face. To think he would fall asleep like that? Nick really was out of it. Veronica continued to admire him, blushing the longer she did. Without thinking she pushed his hair away from his forehead and started to lean down. One little goodbye peck on the noggin wouldn’t be so bad, right? Veronica could feel her face heating up as she closed her eyes…

“You could get sick you know?” Said Weiss, standing in the door frame with medicine and a cheeky smile. Veronica immediately jolted up as if she hadn’t just been caught red handed. “M- Mrs. Schnee!” She stuttered. “I didn’t hear you come in. Hehehe….” The innocent act fell apart as quickly as Veronica tried to attempt it. The poor girl covered her face to hide the embarrassment. “My bad, that was inappropriate.” She fiddled with her tail. An unexpected pat on the head by the mother of her crush made Veronica yelp. “This is a weird form of punishment.”

“Probably because it’s not punishment silly.” Weiss might’ve been on team Valerie, but she was more than happy to see Veronica act so lovingly around Nick. Weiss gave the girl her own forehead kiss. “Make good choices today. I believe in you, and so does Nick.” Veronica couldn’t hide the warm smile on her face. She nodded in agreement and went on to finish getting ready. Weiss pulled up a chair and sat next to her ill child. She put the back of her hand to his forehead. Nick’s hand suddenly rose up and took hold of it. He opened his eyes and smiled.

“Hey you, one guest after another.” He noticed the medicine and sat up against the backboard. “I can take it myself. Even if it’s absolutely disgusting.”

Weiss gave him the bottle of unpleasantly thick brown syrup. “Sorry to wake you. You can sleep to your heart’s content after this.”

Nick plugged his stuffy nose and chugged down the bottle. Weiss handed him a cup of orange juice to wash away the taste. He couldn’t even describe it. The closest he could think of mildew and broccoli. “Blegh!! What I wouldn’t give to never be sick.”

Weiss stared at him, annoyed by that statement. “Gee, have you tried taking care of yourself. You’d get sick less often. Crazy concept I know, but I hear it works.”

“Hardy har, I will take longer breaks when I can. Could you hand me my scroll?”

Weiss squinted. “Is it business related?” The silence she received was all she needed. “Why are you like this?”

“It’s actually important! It’ll take three minutes, honest!”

“Then let me text it.” Weiss grabbed the scroll. “Who am I looking for?”

“Eliza.” He groaned, it felt weird not having his scroll in his hand. “Found her?”

Weiss shook her head. “You have no contacts under E and the only M you have is me as Mom.”

Nick laughed. “She’s under W.”

Weiss scrolled down. “Whitley, Winter, Work Wife…” her brain stopped, having to reread that last one. “Work Wife?”

Nick nodded, still laughing to himself. “She bugs me enough about council things and treats the school like a house full of kids that we take care of. Work wife seemed appropriate.”

“Is she aware of this nickname?” Weiss questioned, raising an eyebrow that secretly thought the name was funny.

“Heavens no, she’d be so upset. I doubt my name is her phone as anything good anyways. Can you tell her I won’t be at school today and to be the council member to show up in the office with Veronica?”

Weiss gave a thumbs up and sent the message. His scroll started ringing not even ten seconds later. “Your work wife is calling.” Weiss decided now was a good time to give him his scroll. Something Nick was happy about at all as he answered it. “Hello?”

“I am going to strangle you…” Eliza said, the threat sounding genuine. “You wake me up with news like this? We don’t all wake up 4:30”

Nick had actually forgotten how early it was. For once he deserved one of her threats. “Sorry, I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“You sound congested as hell. You really are sick. Not that I didn’t believe you. Hooky is your sister’s style. Speaking of her, why don’t you ask her to do this?”

“Her and Valerie don’t mix well with Veronica, or dumb and dumber. I need a level head in that office room that isn’t Flynt.” He let out a forced cough, putting a little more strain into it than there actually was. “Please…?” He said with a rasp.

“Mmmmgggghhh! You owe me for this.”

“What will it be? I doubt you want money.”

“Your money can shove it. I want you in top physical condition. Normally I’d ask for something a little more tangible but I did ask you to keep me in the loop, so I guess you can’t complain.”

Nick smiled. “You're the best.”

“No one likes a kiss ass.” She hung up. The conversation went better than he expected so it was a win in his book. He gave Weiss back his scroll and sunk back into his bed. “I guess I’ll try this rest thing, night.” Weiss kissed his forehead and left the room. Finally, Nick closed his eyes to get some much needed rest. The world could deal without him for a day, hopefully.

xxxx

Today was going to be better. Veronica was going to be a model guest, which is what she wanted to believe. A bus ride with loud gossiping teenagers had different ideas for her. Rumors had spread like wildfire in a matter of hours apparently. Each one nastier than the last, but she kept her head down and turned up her headphones. “Just ignore them.” She whispered to herself. Summer sat next to her doing the same. Normally she’d want the girl out of shouting distance, but there was no one else she’d want next to her. At least Summer wasn’t vile or daft. The two didn’t have a conversation, even though it might’ve been beneficial. Something about the silence was comfortable. Summer peaked over her way, her mouth opened with shock.

Veronica took out a headphone despite her cat ears being available. “What?” Summer pointed to Veronica’s phone. The screen displayed one of the covers Summer had put on her album. “Oh, that.” Vee shrugged, “Never heard me question your singing have you.” Veronica left it at that and put back in the headphone, turning to the window. She could still see the singer in the reflection, displaying a pleased smile on her face as she also went back to listening to music. Comfortable silence, the only language besides arguing the two were good at with each other. It was short lived when the ride ended. One by one, kids got off the bus and Eliza stood by the door waiting for woman of the hour. Veronica expected her to be the escort. “Let me guess, Nick?”

Eliza let out a long yawn. “Aaaaaahhh! Interrupted my sleep and everything. Didn’t I specifically tell you to keep in line?”

“You’ll come to learn that I was the kid who scribbled her drawings with the crayons she was given.”Veronica took the lead in their walk to the office. “However, I guess I should stay in the lines today huh?”

Eliza rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Frankly, I don’t expect this to end with a pretty picture.”

xxxx

A pretty picture was indeed not looking well. The two stood on the right side of the office while Darren and Max were on the opposite. Flynt sat at his desk with a cup of coffee Eliza was secretly eyeballing. The man could feel the obvious tension in the room and wanted to get through this as fast and efficiently as possible. “Ms. Belladonna, would you like to tell your side of the story?”

Veronica rubbed her chin. There were many ways to play this out. However, only one way interests her enough to seek out.

Actually…I’d like to hear the story they told first.”

Darren crossed his arms, “What, trying to weave a clever lie?”

“Don’t play coy. I want to know just how clever your lie has to call this meeting.” She shot back, pissing Darren off. “As an upperclassmen, you wouldn’t mind humoring little ol me, right?”

“Tsk, as I told our principal, you were in the way of our lockers. Instead of simply moving out of the way, you got snippy and I got a little snippy back. The amount of disrespect you showed was completely uncalled for. Then you decided to escalate the situation instead of apologizing, assaulting the both of us before Nick showed up to bail you out of trouble that you couldn’t deal with; choosing to fight us too, then running off with you before the faculty could arrive. Ain’t that right Max?” The giant of a man nodded. “More or less.”

“Of course he’d leave out the stupid out the stupid flirting and grabbing my tail; shouldn’t have expected full honesty.” She thought internally. If Veronica could slap the punk right now, she would. The look of Flynt’s face told her that he wasn’t buying their bullshit, but it’s all he had to go with. Until she said her take on it of course. “Funny, that’s not how I remember things.”

“And how exactly do you remember things?” Flynt asked. “I’m curious on how the stories differ. A friendly reminder that I have to take disciplinary measures depending on how things unfold from both stories.”

All eyes were on her now and like always, it was in unflattering circumstances. Veronica’s word against theirs. If she told the truth, then no doubt the principal would take her side, and yet there was a problem. One she refused to create. It was a good thing she got Darren to speak so freely. If today was going to start well, then a lie was going to be told. One in her favor, and theirs.

“Mr. Coal, these two men have some facts messed up, but their story is mostly spot on.” Darren and Max raised their brows while Eliza and Flynt spoke in unison. “It is?” They said, surprised.

“It is. I stood in front of their lockers and caught an attitude, they caught one back. Certain insults were thrown, mainly by me and I got upset when they said their own. I attacked, and the two of them couldn’t handle it.” The bits in her voice appeared for the last part. She could tell Darren wanted to say something but his smarter friend prevented him from speaking. “It honestly wasn’t fair. I got so mad that it was easy to knock them around like amateurs. That’s when Nick showed up.” The little joy she gained from her story turned into seriousness. If it was for him or her family, Veronica would lie to the end of the world. “He didn’t attack Darren and Max. He attacked me.”

Everyone once again looked shocked by her words. Veronica continued speaking. “You know Nick, always trying to defuse a situation. As president, he wasn’t going to let his upperclassmen suffer. He jumped right into the fray in an attempt to restrain me. Obviously limbs were flying everywhere, so he ended up hitting them a little. That’s why they think he was fighting them, but he was just trying to separate me. I ended up hurting him in the process. Nick grabbed me the moment he could and ran off with me so I couldn’t hurt anyone else. That’s what happened.” Her gaze was directed towards Max. Veronica knew if this was going to work then one of them had to play along. It was obvious Max had interest in reining in Darren and letting this incident breeze by.

The man understood the silent compromise. They get off as victims as long as Nick does as well. An option he could live with. He didn’t want a stupid fight to begin with. “I think she might be right.” He said. “I mean if Nick wanted to wail on us then leaving with her makes no sense.” Darren shot him a look of disbelief but it was no match for the quiet wrath of Max, silently telling his hot headed friend to not ruin this. Darre bit his lip and mumbled. “Hmph, that does make more sense.” It burned him up a little that a twirp like Nick was just made a hero for beating him up out of anger.

“Mr. Coal I take full responsibility for what transpired yesterday afternoon.” Veronica bowed. Her voice was even and she held back her frustration. “Please only give me the punishment. I was in the wrong so it’s only fair.”

Eliza was stunned by what was happening before her. Veronica had to know the truth would have shot their story to bits, yet she was willing to bare all the blame. It was unexpected to say the least.”

Flynt stood up from his desk. “Very well then. Darren, Max, you two may return to class. The two boys nodded and headed to the door. “Before you go, let’s make something clear.” Flynt walked past Veronica and stared the two of them in the eyes. “I expect nothing but good behavior from you two. Also, I do not care if you both are key players in this year’s tournament. If someone even hints towards either of you bullying a person, especially a faunus in any shape or form…” he put his full attention on Darren. “We will have a very long and private discussion.”

“I also expect any future problems to be taken to a trusted adult or the student council.” Eliza chimed in. “As a sophomore, it’s only right that I give my attention to my juniors. I will be sure to be more observant.” The venom in her voice was clear as day. The boys slowly walked out of the office and went to class.

“Thanks…” Veronica said to the two of them. I wasn’t expecting threats.

“Threats? We did no such thing.” Flynt sarcastically spoke, returning to his seat. “Now for your punishment.Veronica Belladonna, I expect this tournament to be the biggest yet worth your contribution. Don’t let me down.”

“Th-that’s it?”

Flynt didn’t even bother to look back at her. He just started typing. “If anyone asks, you wrote a three page apology to me. For the love of the Gods though, try to have someone around you so no more incidents like this happen again.

Eliza put an arm around Veronica and led her out. “Alright on it sir. Have a good morning.” She waved him goodbye and shut the door. “Okay then, let’s swing by the cafeteria and get some coffee.”

Veronica was still trying to piece everything together. “Wait, so you’re just volunteering now?”

“Someone has to. Now are you going to complain about getting away with fighting, or help me wake up?”

Today was going to be a better day. Veronica could feel it. “I’ll go get the mugs.”

Part 17

#rwby #rwby au #rwby twin snowflakes #jaune arc #weiss schnee #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #eliza marigold #veronica belladonna #yang xiao long #ruby rose #flynt coal #darren diabhalta #max winchester

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owlespresso · 4 years

Text

An Evening in the Life / Nhaza’a

Nhaza’a Jaab/m!Reader My commissions are open, and I write headcanon lists/drabbles for ko-fi donations! 2 ko-fis = one list/drabble! My ko-fi can be found HERE. There is spice below the read-more.

Thanalan is cold at night. The temperature seeps into your skin through your armor and leathers, fabric and metal splattered with the blood of your deceased target–a large monster that had been troubling the locals for the past few suns. Fatigue rattles your bones and steals the breath from you, back of your throat burned raw. It’s a soreness you haven’t experienced in awhile, and it makes you weary.

So weary that you don’t notice the coyote that had been tailing you until it crouches on its haunches and leaps–or at least tries to. The silver of a rogue blade sinks in between its shoulders, straight through its throat. Its ghastly gurgling whine splits the air and finally causes you to whip around, eyes wide as you behold Nhaza’a’s form, illuminated by pale moonlight.

His sword is slick with blood as he pulls it from the beast, his boot planted on its haunch.

“To think, the vaunted Warrior of Light failed to notice such a clumsy beast on his tail.” He tuts at you, pulling a cloth from one of his pockets to wipe down his blade, cleaning it thoroughly before sliding it back into its sheath. “...You’re a sight for sore eyes. What’s wrong? Did you help too many poor grannies across the street?”

“No. It was a hunt.” You grumble, turning around to continue on your way. You’re not in the mood to humor him. If he wants to be a cynical asshole to you, he can wait until tomorrow to do it.

“Ah. My apologies, wait–” His boots thump against the ground, kicking up sand and coarse dirt. You’re not given any other warning before his hand plants atop your shoulder, eagerly tugging you backwards. Your body, weakened from the day’s activities, lacks the strength to stand firm and topples backwards into his broad chest. “Allow me to treat you to a drink.” He beseeches, a gloved hand stroking your jaw, his good eye hooded low and sultry.

You inhale shakily, collect yourself. Your hands curl into fists at your side.

“And something to eat?” You inquire, raising an eyebrow sharply.

“Your wish is my command.” Nhaza’a acquiesces with a simple sigh, resting a jeweled hand on his hip. “If that is what I must do to make up for my transgressions, then so be it.”

And that’s how you’ve landed up here, sitting across from him whilst the tavern hustles and bustles around you, resting your cheek on the palm of your hand. The smell of freshly cooked food wafts over you and causes your stomach to growl, reminding you that you had skipped lunch. Your glazed gaze flickers over the laminated menu, caught between the steak and the garlic butter chicken.

It’s difficult to decide, not when you’re so exhausted and have so much on your mind. The image of him, outlined in the fine veneer moonlight.

“Is there something on your mind?” Nhaza’a asks, taking a quaint sip from his margarita glass. He gazes keenly at you, that near constant smirk gone from his face, replaced with something gentler, more contemplative.

“Why did you save me?” You finally pluck up the courage to ask. It’s been on your mind since you walked in, his arm wrapped near possessively around your shoulder. Only now, that you’ve been given space, can you finally voice your nagging curiosity. “I’ve done nothing but oppose you and be a thorn in your side. Killing me while I was vulnerable would have been the best move for you to make.”

“Always full of cheer and merriment, aren’t you?” He drawls, sighing as you settle him with a firm glare. “Alright, alright. Your question is valid, I will admit. Though the answer is simple. I don’t need to kill you, at least not yet. While you inconvenience me every now and then, you typically do not stop me from doing my good work. And if I did not have you, who would amuse me during my free time?” The corners of his lips curl into a mischievous little smile, eyelids dipping low, voice pitching into a delightful croon.

“You decided to let me live because you like fucking me?” You deadpan, incredulous. In all honesty, you wouldn’t put it past him. For all the grandiose arrogance he speaks with, his goals are rather simpleminded.

He wants a fight, a hunt, something to thrill and entertain. The exhilaration is all he cares about, so it makes sense that he would keep you around.

“No, no. I would not say it’s the only reason. I appreciate your company on more than just a physical level,” Nhaza’a says, and has the nerve to roll his eye. “I’m not a savage. If I was simply looking for a few holes to fuck, there are plenty of prostitutes lining the streets of Ul’dah for me to pick from. But they cannot give me what you can.” His blatant honesty and the crudeness of it nearly makes you shy all over again, but you manage to hold your ground, instead shoving your face into your hands. You rub the bridge of your nose.

You’re the Warrior of Light. Slayer of gods, savior of countries. So why are you sitting across from a mass murderer? Why did you even entertain the idea of spending time with him in the first place? “Come now,” he coaxes, attempting to bring your attention back to him. “Truly. Am I that awful to be around?”

“You’re mediocre at best,” you reply with little to no hesitation, the small frown on your face refusing to budge.

“Fair enough, but I have a feeling you’ll be singing a different tune in a mere few hours.” His voice pitches low and it causes a flicker of liquid need to blot your lower stomach. You inhale swift and cross your legs, snuffing out any of the unfortunate arousal before it could even start.

“There’s no any fucking way. Not again.” You swore fearlessly as the barista placed two drinks in front of you both. You reached for the tankard and took a massive swig, attempting to hide your face whilst attempting to get your chaotic emotions under control.

I am not affected, you say to yourself a mantra that goes obsessive, I am not affected, I am not—

---

“Fuck!” Your breath is wrung from you in a humiliating squeal, fingers curling helplessly into the silken sheets. Never again, you repeat to yourself, even as Nhaza’a drew your cock into his very talented mouth. Your hips twitch and wriggle even as he holds them down, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to pin them to the sheets.

At the very least, his mouth is occupied. If it weren’t, you don’t doubt he’d be mercilessly raking you over the coals for going back on your word.

He will, you know, but for now, all you can do is settle back and enjoy the slow draw of his tongue along the underside of your stiff cock. He spares you no quarter, refuses you the time to regain your bearings and actually think.

All you can process is the way his fingers splay across your inner thighs from their awkward position, all you can understand is the way he hollows out his cheeks and sucks. At one point or another, the back of his tongue rises to brush against your tip and the smattering of pleasure that assaults you makes you see stars.

There is no way to coordinate yourself, because you’re hurtling towards the edge, bathed from head to toe in white hot pleasure. He does this beautiful little thing where he hollows his cheeks and you get to cling on for another moment before you’re gone. The first orgasm of the night is wrung from your aching body. Your muscles still throb and ache from the strenuous hunt, but you’re tipsy and needy and all you can think about is the way he swallows each drop of cum like it’s ambrosia.

“What was that about ‘never again’?” Nhaza’a wastes not a moment after pulling off your cock. Smugness drips from his every pore. If you weren’t currently basking in the afterglow of an admittedly incredible climax, you’d have to resist the urge to sock him in the face.

Rather than be deterred by your silence, it only seems to motivate him.

“I believe you meant ‘until I find someone who fucks me better than you do’. In which case, allow me to assure you that will never happen.” Nhaza’a nips at your inner thighs, smiling at the way the muscle twitches.

“Stop wagging your tongue and fuck me already.” You grumble. Trying to argue against his nearly neverending narcissism is an unwinnable battle. No matter how many times you wipe the floor with him in combat, he’ll always have that smug smirk, always hold himself high above most, if not all of the general populace.

“So demanding,” he sighs. He climbs up the mattress regardless and presses his lips to your own in a violent, conquesting kiss. The sandpaper texture of his tongue makes your eyes shut and your thoughts begin to slip through your damn fingers.

He works your body with a finesse you have hardly ever experienced, opening you slowly with slicked fingers. Your breath leaves you in short sighs and moans, sharp intakes and exhales that mismatch with the chaotic rhythm your heartbeat has set.

By the time he begins to curl his fingers just right, you fall over the precipice, spilling over your own stomach with a pitched cry.

“Twice already?” Nhaza’s sounds, sounding both surprised and impressed all in the same. It’s an emotion you’re not used to hearing in his voice, but you’re hardly granted a moment to think about it before you feel his tip press against your aching hole. “You can give me another, can’t you?” He asks, nuzzling your collarbone with a contented sigh. He rasps his tongue over your warm collarbone, adding to the overwhelming cacophony of sensations.

“M-mhm,” you nod shakily and shut your eyes, mouth opening around a sanguine cry. His cock throbs large and hot inside of you, pressing against your walls in a way that makes you squirm and wiggle on the sheets, against his broad body. Your thoughts melt away, body and mind lost to the brutal rhythm he sets with his hips.

The mattress screams and creaks underneath your undulating bodies, the force sending you up the mattress, mere inches away from the headboard. In the back of your mind, you’re aware of his rumbling moans, broken and broad noises that sound alongside deep purrs.

You’re not fully there when you climax, oversensitive, oversaturated with divine sensation. Another gush of hot cum drips onto your sweaty stomach, the breath knocked from your lungs. He fucks you through it, his tempo growing ragged and unsteady until he pulls out, spilling over your stomach with a growling moan. The hotness washes over your toned muscles, making you wince.

Boneless, melting, you descend into a slight doze, barely beginning to catch your breath. Nhaza’a drops to your side. The mattress bounces underneath the new weight. Even though he isn’t touching you at the moment, he’s less than an ilm away, allowing you to feel the warmth he radiates like a warm hearth.

Your consciousness comes fully back to you in sluggish waves, and the first thing you realize with your newfound awareness is the terrible mess on your stomach.

“Fuck.” you sigh, internally complain, and push yourself to your feet. Soreness has already hooked its claws into your hips and thighs, and you suspect it will only grow worse in the next few hours.

Never again, you settle into the comfort of your repetitive mantra, opening the bathroom door and limping inside. Never again.

---

“Out all of the places you could have fled to, and you come to me.” Nhaza’a runs his fingers over your shoulders, the flat of his palm settling between them. Your cheek rests over his heart, your entire body like a limp blanket atop him.

“Can you stop being a taunting asshole for a few minutes?” You snap, voice unusually on edge even for him. He quiets, giving you the mercy of a comfortable silence as you wiggle around, adjusting your position to fit your liking.

There was no one else you could have gone to, you tell yourself. Everyone knew you as the infallible Warrior of Light, the realm’s protector and strongest champion. You didn’t grieve, you didn’t get sad, or scared, or anxious. You never tire of your duty and that’s what makes you so reliable. That’s why so many look up to you.

If you go to anyone who believes in you, who admires you, they’ll only be let down by your current state. The illusion of the invincible warrior will be shattered, and that will sow doubt, maybe discontent.

“I’m glad you’re making yourself comfortable,” Nhaza’a sighs forlornly. You can’t tell if he’s teasing or not, so you don’t snap at him. You simply rest against his body and savor the surprisingly gentle touches he gifts you. His fingers press to your aching back, rubbing rhythmatic circles over the skin. Your shirt had been discarded at the door, leaving your torso on display for him to ogle. “Tell me, why didn’t you go to one of your innumerable worshipers?”

“None of them know how much of a mess I can be,” you grumble into his collarbone, too tired to put up a front and lie about it. You’ve lied to so many people. You’re tired of it. You need at least someone in your life to know that you’re mortal, that you’re a real person.

“You’ve opted to show your vulnerability to me bechttps://owlespresso.tumblr.com/post/626018240329646080/an-evening-in-the-life-nhazaaause I’m the only one who gets to take part in it? I must say, I’m honored.” Nhaza’a drawls. A purr begins to steadily rumble in his chest. The noise soothes you into shutting your eyes, more than happy to let yourself drift to sleep.

You don’t know how you’re able to rest so contentedly in the arms of a known enemy, but you’re too tired to think about it. If you have to contemplate the morality of what you’re doing for a moment longer, you’ll lose your damn mind.

Tonight is about you, and getting what makes you comfortable. Rest of the world be damned.

After another few moments, you’re jolted from your doze. Nhaza’s hand presses against your back as he shifts, promptly dropping you off of his body and onto your side. Any possible question you could have asked dies on your lips as he spoons you, his broad torso pressing against your back, an arm draped over your waist. His warm breath brushes over the back of your neck, sending a slight shiver up your spine…

One that vanishes after a few moments. You once again relax into the plush mattress, pressing your noise to the sheets and inhaling the sweet scent that you’ve come to associate with him. Spices, brandy, something strange and floral mixed in there. You can’t tell, so you don’t bother trying. It’s much better and much too easier to lose yourself among the sea of sheets and blankets and pillows and warmth.

This is the most relaxed you’ve been in weeks, resting in your enemy’s bed.

#nhaza'a jaab #nhaza'a #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #imagine ffxiv #imagine final fantasy xiv #final fantasy

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katerinawinters · 4 years

Text

The Witcher: No Turning Back Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Swaying in rhythm to the horse's gait Ciri willed herself to stay awake against Geralt's broad back. They had been riding since dawn, after a short but tearful farewell at Yurga's cottage Geralt had lifted her to his horse and began their journey. Cold misty air whipped past them as they rode, stinging at her face and any bit of exposed skin that wasn't shielded by the large leather jacket Geralt let her wear. One look at her thin clothes Goldencheeks loaned her, the witcher let out a disapproving growl before unpacking a spare jacket from his horse's pack. Swallowed by the heavy black leather Ciri couldn’t stop the smile of contentment from spreading across her lips. It felt good to be warm, but more importantly it felt good to be protected again.

Thankful for their positions Ciri looked up to see the back of the witcher's head as they rode. His pale white hair fell to the middle of his shoulder blades, damp from the dreary misty air. When she was younger, she was often teased by the other children noble and peasant alike for her ashen hair, calling it a sign of a curse. When her nanny had told her in secret about the man she was destined to, she had told Ciri of the witcher's white hair and great strength. Although she never admitted it to anyone, the similar trait shared between this revered man and herself had comforted her.

"Ciri," the sudden deep sound of his voice startled her. It had been hours since they left Yurga's cottage, though she couldn’t be sure since there was hardly any sunlight in the gray cloudy sky, but not once did Geralt speak.

"Yes, sir?" she answered obediently. If it were anyone else, she would have never added the honorific. She was heir to Cintra, she was taught since the moment she could speak that people were to show her respect not the other way around. But that was no longer her reality. Casting a downward glance, she tried to stamp away the pain in her chest at the reminder. Cintra was lost to her and she was princess to nothing. With no skills that would provide any use beyond the castle walls she learned the hard way more than once that her aristocratic demeanor was unwelcome in the real world.

"We are coming up on marsh land," he paused momentarily and Ciri got the impression as if his statement was supposed to mean something. Worriedly, she tried to guess at the significance of his words.

The silence stretched for a second longer, making her feel awkward and self-conscious.

Finally he continued. "Marshes, swamps, bogs, and ponds, pretty much any small stagnant body of water are rife with monsters," he explained. Ciri's grip clenched tighter at his sides.

Having kept herself upright all morning to prevent herself from leaning on his back as he rode, Ciri had maintained her grip to the witcher by grasping only the sides of his armor. She did not think the large warrior would appreciate her clutching on to him. Looking around, she noticed the trees beginning to thin as they approached the flooded low lands. The tall tufting blanket of green grass belied its wet swampy nature making it almost appear like a green field rather than the soggy wet mess it truly was.

"I will get down from Roach and lead you both through. I want you to listen to me carefully and do exactly as I say," he paused, turning his head ever so slightly she could see his strong profile as he waited for her to acknowledge him.

Her grip on his armor tightened. "Yes, of course," she rushed to answer.

"If we encounter anything you will not scream and you will not come down from Roach. You will simply hold onto him and allow him to take you wherever he goes. If you two are in danger trust that he will run to safety."

"Yes, sir," she answered softly, dreading the thought of possibly being separated from the witcher.

After getting down and pulling a sword from his sheath, Geralt grabbed Roach's reins and began leading them down the sloping incline into water. With only the sound of their sloshing steps, Geralt led them through the marsh. Birds cawed in the distance, safely perched in their trees away from the constant miserable drizzle. Dim gray sunlight fought to pierce through the dismal clouds giving them brief moments of light before losing the battle yet again behind the oppressive damp clouds. With her eyes jumping all over the place, Ciri tried to mimic the man sloshing through thigh-high water. Calmly and expertly his eyes scanned every detail of the horizon while occasionally glancing behind them. She wanted to speak, but she knew better.

Eventually they made their way up a muddy slope that edged the other side of the forest. With a heavy sigh, Ciri felt a huge portion of her energy drain from her body in payment for her relief. Getting down from the horse, she waited as Geralt pulled a strip of cloth from Roach's pack and dried himself off before pulling back onto the horse and reaching down for her. Seated once again behind him, she shifted uncomfortably as she tried to maintain a gap between them.

The warm grip suddenly covering each of her hands gave her no time to react before she was jerked forward. With a thud, her chest thumped against his broad back while her hands were placed over his stomach.

"Relax," he gently ordered. "If you value to the ability of being able to walk tomorrow you will need to relax. Our journey is long and we have a week of riding ahead of us at least."

With no choice, Ciri turned her head and laid her cheek against his broad back. The cool rough feeling of his leather armor scraping gently against her soft skin was surprisingly comfortable.

"Yes, sir," she murmured, fatigue instantly setting in with the comfort of the new position.

"And call me Geralt," her added.

~*~

After a few minutes Geralt could feel the girl's arms around his waist slacken in sleep, though she did not let go. Despite her proud efforts it was easy to read the longing for comfort in her big gray eyes when she looked at him. Fear, exhaustion, and confusion he could sense she had been through a lot before he finally found her. All facts that drove guilt like nails into his soul. He should have taken her with him long ago, once he saw through Calanthe's deception, but no, he decided to fight destiny and rebuke the facts and now they were both worse for wear for it. Glancing down at the pale fingers lightly clasping his jacket he resisted the urge to cover them with his own. Gathering himself with a shake of his head, he concentrated on the path ahead of them and spurred Roach into a faster pace. He did not have time for regrets and certainly no time for sentimentality. His role in life was now changed, he had his child of surprise and it was now his duty to keep her safe.

~*~

Opening her eyes, Ciri let her vision adjust to the scenery around them. No longer on the main trail they moved slowly through the densely packed forest. Thankfully the trees were narrow and tall with most of their branches starting well above their heads allowing them to pass safely through without the fear of being swiped off.

"Good, you're awake," Geralt's rough voice spoke from ahead of her. "We will make camp up ahead."

Thank God. She had to pee for the past few hours but did not know how to say it to the man. She feared the man's reaction to calling a sudden halt in their journey. With only a few streams of dying gray light piercing the sopping wet woods, they rode into a tiny clearing and stepped down from Roach, who gave a relieved grunt. Patting the horse affectionately, Geralt murmured conversationally to the horse as he tied the animal to a tree.

Barely able to hold it any longer, Ciri lifted her billowing pants legs and began to take a running step forward when a strong grip shot out and captured her upper arm. Confused and so very desperate to pee she turned and gave Geralt a desperate look that hopefully conveyed without words just how much she needed to go.

Dawning realization colored his eyes just before a slashing grin spread across his firm lips, though his hold on her arm remained firm. "I understand, however nothing is more dangerous than being caught by some ghoul or other monster with your pants down. Trust me, I speak from experience."

Horrified and a bit embarrassed the overwhelming urge to pee lessened a bit at the terrifying prospect.

Chuckling, Geralt stepped in front of her but motioned her to follow. "First you must scan the area with all senses. Ask yourself, have the birds stopped singing suddenly? Is it too quiet? It's not always what you hear, it's what you don’t hear." Glancing back at her, she gave him a swift nod to tell him she was listening. Giving a grunt of approval he continued forward until he stopped at a broad tree. "Always put something at your back, be quick, and stay alert. Once you're done, I'll have a turn myself."

Stepping just a couple paces away he turned around, scanning the area. After a couple of seconds Ciri realized in horror the man meant to stand there as she went!

"Don't give me that look," his said knowingly, not even turning around. "I can feel your shock. If you want to survive you will learn to shelve your modesty."

Unable to resist letting out an agitated huff, Ciri turned and positioned herself near the large tree. Being as quick as possible she traded places with the witcher, not daring for a second to look up at the man. She didn't need to see his pale face and amber eyes to know he was smirking at her ire.

~*~

For a week now they travelled, mostly through forgotten overgrown paths or making his own route through the forest. When she asked why they did not travel the main roads he answered her question much like he answered any other question she posed, with a question of his own.

"Who is in charge of keeping the roads safe?"

She might not know a lot about monsters and survival beyond the castle walls but Ciri knew a lot about royal governance. Sitting straighter against him she answered clearly. "The soldiers of the presiding kingdom."

"Mmm, and in times of war which soldiers are the first ones the kingdom pull back on?"

"The roads," she answered, this time with much less enthusiasm as she unwilling thought of the slaughter of Cintra by Nilfgaard soldiers.

"These days the roads between kingdoms are the most unsafe, filled with low rank monsters feeding on the helpless and brigands capturing any of the ones who make it past the monsters." Turning his head to look off in the distance at their left, Ciri could see his left eye narrow as if watching something in the distance. Today was another rain drenched day, following his line of sight she tried her best to squint through the misty trees and catch anything but all she saw was more of the same--wet rainy forest. Satisfied by what he saw or didn’t see, Geralt eventually turned to face ahead. "I would rather very much not to have to leave a trail of corpses behind us to Temeria."

"But I thought you told Yurga we were headed towards Rivia?" she asked confused now.

"I lied," he answered simply.

Seeing that he had no intention on expounding further Ciri shifted to the side slightly in the saddle so that she could stare impatiently the side of his gruff profile.

Without moving his head an inch, she watched his eye move until he caught her stare. Smirking he looked back ahead, over Roach's swaying head, to the path he set.

"I had to account for any Nilfgaard tracking you down to Yurga's cottage," he replied evenly. "I could not take the chance that they would not tell your location if they were caught."

Ciri gasped. The thought of gentle Goldencheeks and jovial Yurga being caught because of her took the wind from her lung.

Putting a hand over hers, he pressed it tightly to his abdomen. "Don't," he commanded roughly, turning slightly in the saddle until she could see one amber eye staring at her.

Shaking her head at him, she tried to pull her hand from beneath his overpowering grip. Didn't he understand, they would be killed because of her?!

"But it would be my fault!" she cried, frustrated that he would not allow her to move but frustrated that she never considered her chance meeting of the kind woman at the market could possibly lead to her death.

"We do not know if they will be harmed, it was simply a precaution," there was a finality to his tone that told her he was done speaking of this.

Bit Ciri did not care, couldn't he see how cruel he was being? Yurga and his family sheltered them in a time of need! "But what if they are?" she argued. "What if they do come for them?!"

Slowing Roach down to climb up a steep muddy incline, Ciri waited for the witcher to eventually reply.

"Then we can only hope they do not," he said dryly. "Unless you have a plan on how to fight the Nilfgaard army."

Snapping her head around so that she didn't have to see even a portion of his face, Ciri raised her chin and stared adamantly at the soggy trees beyond. Changing her grip from around his waist until she only held a handful of the material at his sides she thought of the whispered rumors she had heard about him.

"You are as heartless as they say," she muttered.

The rumbling growling sound in his throat sounded initially sounded like a response of anger but as they road in silence she imagined the man's impassive amber gaze and realized it was a sound of agreement.

#witcher netflix #witcher fanfiction #witcher smut #ciri x geralt #geralt fanfic #geralt #geralt of rivia #katerinawinters #writings

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heechulhamster · 5 years

Text

Unfitting - Kim Minseok

Kim Minseok X Reader (Fem)

Soldier!Minseok, Smut, Explicit Sex

In his eyes, you don’t belong here. Like a sore thumb sticking out in the crowd. You don’t belong here, not in this dirt ridden battlefield, not among his troops, but he deemed you fitting somewhere else.

6315 words.

The subtly bitter yet tolerable smell of antiseptic drenched your senses and enveloped the small confines of the dimly lit and a rather bare and airless room - if a small distinctively narrow tent can even be called that. But it was welcome to distract you from the discomfort emanating from your deep cut being cleaned. The pristine cotton ball now turned carmine after it was doused in antiseptic, now gently being dragged over your wounded forearm. Now, to be considered gentle was already reaching it. It would’ve been more accurate to say that he was trying to be gentle, though it’s obviously an act he’s not used to nor he should be doing.

“You’re well aware that I could sanction you for your misconduct, right?” He said, stern in his voice yet coming off as unbothered - as if authority is just his mere nature. His eyes still trained towards the injury, while his left hand support your elbow and the other holds the cotton. “My instructions were clear for corps medics, stay in the damn base. Did I not make myself clear?”

“No sir, your instructions were well forwarded.” Your voice came off unsteady, shaken by his jurisdiction over you.

“So tell me why you were twenty metres away from the field line? Are you deliberately disobeying the orders of your Commander?” He said, power still unwavering in his voice while his hands carefully measure and cut up the gauze in the right size for your wound.

“No, sir.” Not even giving a second for hesitation. “Sir, I could do this you don’t need to-”

“I wouldn’t have needed to if you didn’t disobey my orders. I’m a commander, higher in rank than any in this base camp. My word isn’t one you’ll just take lightly around here, do you understand that?” The snip of the shears reverberating in the room as he cut the gauze that snugly fitted your arms.

“Yes, sir.” You answered, trying to sound as confident and as assuring as you could. And his eyes met yours again, after the gruelling minutes he spent cleaning the result of your disobedience. The pair of feline-like eyes that were sure to exude and amplify his authority to whoever he speaks to. “I’m sorry, Sir.” You suddenly blurted out.

“What exactly for?” His eyes not leaving yours, and the overpowering stare left you uncomfortable so your eyes roamed to his shoulders. Clad in a plain fitting black shirt and his disheveled and dusty military cargo pants tucked in his equally worn-out combat boots.

“For disobeying your orders, Sir. I didn’t mean to, it’s just that I heard Private Seo was wounded and I-”

“Wounded soldiers get taken back to the base if they couldn’t bear it anymore. Private Seo was simply grazed by a bullet in his thigh, one that every soldier was trained to disregard or endure. But you…” He lifted your arm by a gentle inch, “You’re not trained to do exactly such, aren’t you?”

You shook your head in acknowledgement, knowing very well that the fleet of nurses and medics accompanying the military corps had close to no training at all.

“Disobedience has no room here. Those who do get sent off back to the quarters, some end up being stripped off their ranks, others even dead. You’re a nurse, you’re supposed to assist and help my men. Not the other way around.” He finally stood up from being seated in front of you, calloused hands detaching from your elbows and discarding the soiled cotton just beneath the table.

You stood up from his cot, not wanting to take too much time in his room - the only one in the base camp divided from the others per his request. Knowing that the others, namely the nurses who took a liking on the striking and attractive Commander Kim Minseok would start talking if your stay exceeds that of the acceptable duration.

“Thank you, Commander. And I’m sorry for the trouble, I’ll make sure to follow your orders from now on.” You bowed in courtesy, him just responding with the slightest nod. So you decided to turn to leave, only to be stopped when he called your name once you’re a breath away from the opening of his tent.

“Take care of yourself.” He simply regards, although considering the situation it was more of a command itself.

“You too, Sir.” Answering with a smile before you headed back to the medic’s tent.

Sleep hardly ever visited you as the cut on your arm made an unbearable discomfort ring throughout your whole body the whole night. And no twist and turn made on your cot was careful enough to rid you of the sting, and then you think that maybe Commander Kim was undeniably right. But he didn’t train for years on end and spent his days on the field only to make uncalculated instructions and faulty commands, you should’ve known better than to disregard his words.

But your heart, one that’s full of thoughtfulness and undefiled care towards others is what called you to the field line. The moment Lt. Oh came back with his hand on his bloodied arm, your instincts went on full alert. That this was, in fact, a war - a serious and costly result of political misunderstanding between two opposing governments, and you were the pawns at play. That you were far from the comfort of what used to be dull and ominous silence of the urban hospital you’ve worked for. Long gone were the busy hallways marred by sudden calls of emergency that become coldly abandoned at night. Such silence was traded to the constant presence of the noise, the rhythm of the clicks and bangs that signify the loss of another life and triumph for another. The spotless crisp white uniform was shelved in exchange of your own camouflage military uniform. The sound of the emptying gun barrels and utilized bombs would eventually be disregarded by your body, they say. But now, you still find yourself fazed by the commotion, the unending loss of lives, the sight of blood still setting you into a mode of urgency rather than being the source of assurance.

And when you heard that the young, gleeful and charismatic Private Seo, who was always polite and cheerful towards you was injured in the battle, your senses followed its own accord. With your packed metal first aid kit, you braved to walk alone in the trail leading to the front lines. Your body trying hard to disregard the continuous uproar of artillery and pungent smell of gunpowder filled the air. Instead trying to focus on the sound of twigs snapping beneath your heavy combat boots. The two way radio strapped on your belt was asking for a receiving end, but your adrenaline rush didn’t put you in the mood to listen to your superior’s nagging.

It only took a few minutes for you to be able to see the troops ducked behind elevated land. Newer privates on the floor with their hands sturdily fighting against the recoil of their rifles, other tactical lieutenants had their eyes on their binoculars, and the man in charge had his eyes trained on you with his face painted with confusion.

Guilt and nervousness crept up your nerves when you realized that Commander Kim saw you - near the front lines, when he purposefully told every member of the medical corps to stay in the camp and wait for the incoming supplies as the troops take hold of the sudden attack a hundred meters east.

You saw his forehead slowly curl into a frown, and you almost ran back to the camp if not for the sudden cold object brazing your arm. Your mouth dropped open in shock, your right hand letting go of the metal kit. Your world suddenly spun at a slower rate, your right hand clenching your left wounded arm as the kit fell down to the ground, sterilized gauze being soiled and antiseptic bottles rolling down the dusty pebbled ground.

Red arterial blood stained your camo, eventually flowing down your arms. It was a light graze, not penetrating your flesh as a whole. Your startled self has still yet to comprehend the situation when you felt a pair of hands envelop your arms. And the pair of eyes that were wore a confused expression meters away from you was now a few inches away, bearing an emotion distinct with anger or annoyance.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Commander Kim asked as he put pressure just above your wound, hindering blood flow.

“I-” Your voice faltered in a mix of nervousness and sheer shock.

“Didn’t I say that every nurse or aide is supposed to stay in station? Not in the fucking front lines!” He spoke to you the same way as he would to his soldiers and subordinates. As his free hand retrieved a handkerchief from his back pocket, quickly unfolding it and tying it just where his hands put pressure at. Securing the cloth tightly as a tourniquet.

“Stay behind the walls, and don’t do anything or don’t go anywhere unless I instruct you to. Go!” He said, power and authority imminent in his roaring voice, and you’d be an imbecile not to follow.

Quickly gathering the contents of the unfortunate medical kit, you ran towards the large and safely thick concrete wall that he told you to hide behind. There, you saw Private Seo, with his right thigh covered in blood. Your instinct aptly reacted and put first aid and disinfected his deep wound. You didn’t even notice the minutes pass when the dutiful commander declared the area clear and ordered everyone to retreat. Fatigue and hunger evident in each and every soldier’s face and in the way they pant in their shallow breaths. Understandable by the fact that they roamed out of the base at the early hours of morning but now it was past dawn. Yet Commander Kim still wore his fierce and unforgiving face, one that you felt was directed towards you.

Minseok Kim is widely regarded in his field as one of the best young soldiers, quickly climbing up the ranks with his tactics and undeniable strength and endurance. Soldiers either envied him or wanted to be like him, and the other nurses of your age were sure to admire him. His unforgivingly pleasing physique combined with the soft features of his face would easily drive anyone crazy. But your possible attraction was overshadowed by intimidation.

He never failed to make you feel unfitting in his unit, always keen to point out how you would zone out a few times in operation. You’d gladly take it as constructive criticism, he’s a perfectionist who wants nothing but the best for his troops. He’ll always reprimand everyone in the unit. But his judging glares that you have caught a few times makes you feel unwelcome or compared - two things that you’re not comfortable at.

And maybe it wasn’t the sting of the bullet that grazed your skin open that was keeping you awake. It could very well be the fact that he dragged you to his own tent, one that you thought was of anger or frustration from your disobedience. Yet you still twist and turn regardless of the pain of your limbs, thinking of how he silently insisted to be the one to dress your wounds. But you tried not to put much weight and meaning on something that is written on air and can be easily misinterpreted.

The next few days was marked by silence within the camp. No external orders or warnings from the regional captain was heard, and other surveillance lieutenants reported no intruder within sight or jurisdiction. It was a much needed period of rest for the overworked troops, yet you can’t help but think of the possible consequences of such tranquility.

“Commander Kim?” You called out from the outside of his much secluded private tent. It’s been two days since you’ve seen him, some say that he’s taking his time alone to rest. Some even say that he values isolation to make credible and better decisions on the field. But 2nd Lt. Park was quick to spread the rumors that the commander was could be ill based on his observations when he talked to him.

So with a tray filled with stale military camp soup which you tried and improve as much as the existing resources could accompanied by a few fruits. To try and reciprocate the courtesy he has graciously shown you a few days ago.

The sun has been already long gone in the horizon and stars have started to shimmer in the dark sky. It has always been a silver lining on living in a camp, miles away from the cities and modern civilization, to see the night sky and nature unrivaled by the concrete jungle. The barely audible chit chat and a few laughs of the soldiers resting a couple of feet away from the tent was the only thing your ears could sense, other than the few rustlings of metals in the kitchen not so far away.

“Sir?” You called once more, loud enough to let him hear if he was awake but not enough to bother him if he was asleep. Counting down to five, you planned to leave if he still wouldn’t answer at the fifth. One - you sadly looked at the thin strip of carrot floating on the equally depressing canned soup you acquired from the supply box. Two - both of the bananas were meticulously selected from the limited options, making sure you’d get the most presentable ones. Three- for a second, you wonder why you put such immense effort into this. It’s not like Minseok is the kind of man to judge the black spots on such a mundane thing. Or why you’re even here in front of his tent in general. You yourself doubt if being thankful for his deed was the sole motive. Four -

“What are you doing here?” A rather hoarse voice stopped you from counting at the very last second. You looked at him, with his eyes puffy and his short black hair in an unkempt state. All tell tale signs that he wasn’t in a good form.

“I brought you food, Sir.” You answered thriftily, wrists lifting the tray a little. Minseok’s eyes trailed towards it. “I haven’t seen you either lunch or dinner so I figure you might need a little.”

He looked at you, not at the food you carried but your eyes, his gaze intense and unpredictable. A silent second passed before he opened the flaps of his tents wider and moved to the sides, a small nod of the head gesturing you to come in - so you followed suit. Taking a few small calculated steps inside his tent, you set down the tray on the small table opposite to his bed.

The moment you looked back at him, you saw Minseok lean over one foot. Visibly having a hard time walking and limping back to his bed.

“What happened to you? Sit down please.” You said, almost sounding as if you’re in a panic.

“It’s nothing.” He responded dismissively, before limping yet again back to his chair.

“I need to check your foot.” You squatted in front of is right foot, holding his leg gently.

“I already said it’s nothing.” Assertiveness and persistence was in his voice.

“I can’t let anyone here not be fit, let alone the commander. Just let me do my job, Minseok.” You only realized what you called him when it was already out of your mouth, but you tried hard to not falter.

A small low chuckle reverberated from his fine lips, “What did you just call me?” He said, void of any authority that is commonly heard from him, rather filled with a mocking tone.

“Sir, just let me check your ankle. You wouldn’t be able to be the commander that our unit needs if you aren’t fit.” Sucking in all might and composure from the suffocating atmosphere between the two of you.

You’re used to being bossed around, shown authority by people who just rank higher than you. Whether that be the doctors you worked with before, or the military training officers you lived with for two months. Yet his influence over you exceeds that of the professional. Knowing very well that his rank isn’t the sole reason of your intimidated nature over him. Minseok’s eyes were enough to make the shades of pink and red play on your cheeks and give birth to a thousand butterflies to prance around your stomach. The way his physique is highlighted by his uniform, how his camouflage pants fit him perfectly. His jacket folded neatly with precision hugging the form of his well trained strong biceps. The puffiness of his cheeks that doesn’t seem to be congruent to his robust body. All of these accompanied by his distinct leadership and the dominance he naturally exudes above everyone. His affect on you is certainly not that of the professional, one can even consider it highly unprofessional.

He finally sat properly on his chair, finally letting you untie the tight shoelaces of his combat boots. The silent hiss that escaped his mouth as you removed his boots was a sign enough that this was not a simple concussion.

When his boot was fully removed, your eyes examined his ankles. Painted with a mix of blues and red around the areas, so lump and swollen that you wonder how he was able to endure constricting such thing in his tight boots.

“This seems fractured or dislocated. I need to get bandages in the quarters, wait up.” You stood in front of him, but he grasped your hand in time before you started taking steps out.

“There’s bandages there, don’t let anyone know. I don’t want them to know that I’m injured or unfit.” Minseok said, or more of dictated towards you.

Following aptly, you scanned the makeshift drawer just beside his sleeping bag. Full of all kinds of first aid medications and his two way radio. You got the essentials and faced his direction to your left once again. “You need to lie down as I do it, we wouldn’t want more blood to rush down your foot.”

Still limping, he stood up from the canvas chair he was seated on before you assisted him on sitting down his sleeping bag. One that’s obviously more stuffed than the others’ probably Commander’s perks, you thought.

He sat with his legs stretched out before you sat beside his right foot, hands occupied with bandages and disinfectant. It hasn’t been long ago when you’ve been in the same tent with a scenario not so different from the current, only that the receiving end is flipped.

You gently dabbed the cotton doused with disinfectant on his foot, first cleaning the area as it possibly could have cuts or dirt from being closed inside a tight shoe. “How did this happen? Is this why you rarely went outside your tent the past few days?”

“I’m the commander. I wouldn’t want my troops to see me limping around camp. I’m the one supposed to lead, not one to be taken care of.” He said emptily, with his signature indifferent tone.

“Well, my job here is to take care of all troops. Which includes you, commander.” You stated, trying to sound soft and not degrade him. “How did you get this?”

“I got that by rushing to this unit member that got injured but wasn’t supposed to be on the field line.” He said, a trace of amusement and mockery present in his face. A flush of embarrassment quickly flooded your senses.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” You said truthfully, as you proceeded to wrap his ankle with bandage. Carefully adjusting the tightness of it to make sure he wouldn’t be in pain but also snug enough to support his ankle.

A minute of silence enveloped both of you as you continued to tend to Minseok’s injuries. “Why were you such in a hurry to help Private Seo, anyway? Any attachments?”

You let out a short laugh on his sudden question. “What? Jinyoung is like a younger brother to me. He’s a nice guy, we get to talk. But it was purely out of adrenaline, nurse’s instincts.” You answered. “I don’t think having attachments here is allowed, or a good thing at least.”

Minseok suddenly blurted a hearty laugh. “Here? Come on, we all know what happened between Haein and Yura. I could bet on it that most of your nurse friends also has one of their own in the troops.” He said, an amused smile present on his face. And you couldn’t help but admire how his cheekbones pop out more when he does.

“Is that so, commander? Why don’t you have yours?” You tried to tease him, even if you’re aware that you shouldn’t be doing so.

Letting out a deep sigh, Minseok shifted his seat a little bit. His head now leaning on the drawer beside him. “My focus is on the task at hand, Y/N.”

You simply nodded at his answer, understanding well the weight it must be to command a whole team. To be in charge of not just a unit but to make decisions that can cost lives. You experience a little of the same pressure when handling lives, but that of Minseok’s was a bigger responsibility. In his hands lies not only a single life but all fifty people in the same camp as you, and a wrong command or decision can lose so much.

Holding the bandage at place with a clip, you started cleaning the materials you’ve used and discarded before he spoke again. “Can you call me by my name again?”

Your forehead contorted in his bizarre request. “I don’t think I should do that, Sir.” You bargained.

“You already did earlier.”

“I couldn’t just address my commander by first name.” You said simply, deliberately declining his request.

“As your commander you should do what I tell you, or you just have a knack for disobedience?” Minseok said, eyes full of childish playfulness as he tried to tease you. “Okay, Minseok. Try to not overexert your right foot, I could bring you food in here if you want to as you obviously wouldn’t opt for crutches.” Your right hand touched the sides of his neck, feeling for his body temperature. “As expected, you have a light fever due to your injury. Drink lots of water and maybe drink aspirin if it still wouldn’t die down. Hope you got that, Minseok.”

Electricity swarmed through your body when he put his hand over yours. Your skin encased in the heat of his neck and his palm, a blush started to play on your cheeks as a result of his sudden action. You would’ve talked, but your voice was hitched down your throat, not knowing how to react.

“It feels good to hear that again, to be called that again.” You were stuck staring at the sincerity in his eyes as you feel his index finger graze over your knuckles. So gentle and light that it sent tingles in your spine. “Being called commander all day puts such a burden on my shoulders, such pressure. Hearing my name made me feel grounded, human again.” He said with an intentful smile.

Shooting an earnest smile back at him, his fingers trailed further. From your wrist, ever slowly and lightly that it felt as if he’s slowly lighting a fire within your soul. He finally stopped on your healing wound, still red yet already drying. The pads of his fingertips softly feeling the area.

“Does it still hurt?” He asked, face ridden with utmost concern. You were only able to muster shaking your head, as your current disposition is all but expected to you.

“Good. Take care of yourself, always.” You still sat in silence beside him as he took your hand and put it just over his lips, putting a chaste kiss on your knuckles before just holding it in his hand. “Because if you wouldn’t, then I’d have to do that myself. Is that what you ask for?”

The unusual situation also stirred up some unwarranted confidence deep within you, “If I do, would you?” You almost whispered, trying to hold back what you almost said yet not being able to do so.

“Only if you let me,” Minseok’s hands were now suddenly on your elbow, tugging you strong enough to have your hands on his shoulders for support as he leans on the drawer. You’re still sat beside him with your legs splayed out to the left. “The same way I’d only kiss you if you let me.”

His breathing was unstable below you, deep and full of uncertainty. As you still try and digest the situation, the sudden expression of a long hidden desire insisting you to express your reciprocation too.

“I don’t think I’m the one to give permissions between the both of us, Commander.”

And that vague consent was all it took for him to snap his last thread of restrictions. With his hand grasping your right arm, he pulled you into a warm and devout kiss. Your lips slowly getting acquainted to his, the supple and softness despite your surroundings. How he tasted, sweet and clean. Your other senses memorizing how he smelled, his own manly musk that only invited you in even more.

Your grip on his shoulders tightened as his teeth tugged on your lower lip, a wonderfully pleasurable sting. It was only moments after that when Minseok’s tongue was introduced in your liplock, teasingly playing with yours as his hands press against your nape. Pulling you even more towards him as if there’s no other place for you to exist but beside him.

He kissed you as if it was the one thing he was born to do, and you returned the favor. Kissing him with such fervor and eagerness that it would feel that you existed to do only such thing. Both running out of breath, you were forced to part. Hands staying in the same place as the two of you chased for air with shallow breathing.

“I-” You started off, before realizing that you either have nothing to say or it’s too much to speak.

“Stop me now while I still can.” Minseok begged breathlessly, his fingers slowly entangling itself in your hair. It took you awhile to regard the fast rising of his chest. How, in probably the first time you saw him, he looked out of control and impulsive. Minseok’s eyes full of intent and his lips swollen from your kisses.

And the only response you were able to give was to pull him back closer and put his lips back on yours.

His hands slid from your nape to your waist as you put your legs over his and straddling him in the end. Carefully doing so as to not hurt nor affect his injured ankle in the process. Your hands worked on autopilot as they unbuttoned his military jacket, caressing his hard chest in between.

You felt the temperature around you rise a couple of degrees the moment he slid out of his jacket. Finally seeing his naked torso in all its glory, void of scars and skin almost as smooth as one from fantasy. Your breathing was the one to go uneven as your fingertips caressed his soft skin laying over his strong muscles. An image of wonderful near-perfection, and you could only bask in his presence.

“Your majesty.” You called him teasingly, which left the two of you chuckling. You just sat on his lap as his hands slowly snaked from resting on your hips to action while removing your jacket. His eyes slowly training downwards with each button freed, carefully cherishing the moment as he revealed more of you inch by inch. Minseok’s eyes were full of desire as you finally shook off your jacket, leaving you only in your bra as you sat over him.

“You wear this here?” He asked, as his fingers the straps. Slowly feeling the lace material of your undergarments.

“Yes, it has.. It has always been what I usually wear.” You answered trying to hide your shame. As how much of an oxymoron would it be for a woman to wear a dainty lace bra while situated in a battlefield?

“Unbelievable.” He lightly shook his head, as his hands found its way back to your now unclothed waist. Pulling you even more closer to him so now you directly sit on his clothed crotch.

“I’ve always believe you don’t belong here.” Minseok spoke once more, earning a curious look as your response. “Sweet, delicate, and pristine. Unforgivingly filled with such concern for others that she’ll run off to a battlefield in concern for others.” His right hand was now tracing your back as his left was slowly moving up and down your thigh.

“You don’t belong here, an undeniable misfit. You stick out in this mess, this chaos, this dusty and unsafe battlefield by being yourself. I’ve always saw how delicate you are, how you sweetly talk to others and how your eyes shine at random things.” Minseok continued. “And it’s been painful for me. I’m used in uniformity, in the plainness of it all. And to have you here in my unit has been torture. Sweet, sweet, torture.”

Minseok scooted closer to your ears, lightly kissing and nibbling the soft flesh as you hear his breathing.

“You think it’s easy not being the only one to appreciate you? To see every fucking private or seargeant pin their eyes on you when you walk down the lunch rooms? You just shine, so damned bright that you got each and every one of us looking.” Both of his hands now found its way in your back, unclasping your bra in one swift movement.

“But this? This is beyond. Way beyond to keep me out of my sanity.” He said, leaning back as he pulled down the straps of your bra. The cloth softly crashing down between you and the cold air lingers at your now hard and attentive nipples.

“Because as unfitting as you are here in the field, you fit so fucking well with me.” Minseok leaned forward once again, putting an agonizingly chaste kiss on your neck. “How your neck was carved to accommodate me, how you just sit perfectly on my lap, making my dick tormentingly hard as you do so.” Your body was set on fire with his lustful voice and his vulgar choice of words.

How you wish his hands that was preoccupied with your hips would go a bit higher, just where you want him.

“And this..” His free hand cupped one of your breasts, you let out a moan in the contact. Minseok’s index finger gently formed circles on your hard nipples as his other fingers groped your breast. “Do you feel how flawless this fits?”

You quickly nodded in agreement, as his hands felt so good on your sensitive area. “Kiss me, Minseok.” You pleaded for his touch, which he gracefully granted.

The kiss was now fiery and urgent, as if you’d both die if this shall end. It was fervent and hungry as both of your hands roam around each others bodies. You started from his biceps, and now clasping his hard back. But his hands were more decidedly vulgar, as Minseok’s hands cupped your heat. Fingers teasingly playing back and forth over your clothed sensitivity.

He chuckled playfully on how your face would look while his other hand toyed with your nipple. So needy and willing, melting in his hands and right on top of him the way he wants to. Minseok finally decided to rid you of your trousers, pulling down your panties the same time. And he was quick to admire how you looked naturally beautiful sitting naked on top of him. And it made him crazier with the display of how much you wanted this too, given away by how you drenched his pants with your wetness. But as much as your own desire, it would never amount to how much he wants this - how much he wants you.

“You make me crazy, you know that?” He exclaimed as his hand found its way to your naked heat. His index finger playfully teasing your warmth and playing with the wetness.

“Please, Minseok.” You exclaimed too lustfully, as your own fire has been kept at bay by his ministrations.

“So fucking crazy, my princess.” You lost control over the volume of your moans when his thumb found your clit while he continuously played with your slit. His other hand well rested at your back for support. Minseok’s eyes just wandered all over each and every crevice of your body, admiring how the dimly lit place accentuates your form. How the small lighting still shines on your skin. Admiring every line that formed on your skin, every inch of you that was so willing for him. It made him harder when he thinks how you, in your own free will, is now sitting naked on top of him all wet and ready for and because of him.

Yet the noise and amazement in his head wasn’t mirrored as your mind went blank on the pleasure as he puts varying pressure and movements over your sensitive bud. Your hands scratching the bareness of his back as the other desperately claws for anchorage in his short black hair.

“Minseok-” You muttered as he inserted a finger inside you, to easily as you’re now drenched. He just watches with a smile how your face contorted in pleasure. He took time in readying you and pleasuring you.

“Minseok please, please fuck me.” You pleaded. “I can’t take it anymore I want you inside me.”

He let out a playful laugh on how needy you are. “As much as I would like to, princess, you would have to do that for us. Can you?”

You quickly understood what he meant. Considering his current injury, you need to take it from here. And admittedly, it wouldn’t be a problem for you. You just desperately need to feel him fill you up.

You didn’t respond by words, rather by unhesitatingly unbuckling his belt. You did it so fast it almost looked like you’re running out of time or being chased by someone. A moan escaped your lips the moment you freed his hard erection from the limits of his clothing. You eagerly encased his dick in your hands, pumping it a few times that made him breathlessly moan your name.

Not wanting to take any longer, you positioned himself beneath you. Before slowly lowering down yourself, filling your existence with his length.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You can’t help but say out loud as you slowly settled on his lap. Reconnecting your lips eagerly and sharing a more passionate kiss as you adjusted to his presence.

You started excruciatingly slowly for him, he wanted all of you and all you can give as he was in no position to take control. Yet Minseok let you cherish every inch and every feeling, and took the time to ingrain in his mind how you looked as he fucked you. But as insatiable as he is, his hand travelled down your clit once more, adding more pleasure to your system.

You started moving at a faster rhythm, and the silent surroundings was plagued by the slick sounds and moans coming from the both of you. Minseom groaned your name as you hungrily and eagerly moved above him, pleasuring the both of you. He planted kisses everywhere he could reach, sucking harsh violet marks on your neck and on your breast. Fueled by his desire to make you his.

“Am I not hurting you?’ You asked amidst your movement, breathless and high pitched in pleasure. His hands never stopped playing with your nipples and clit and it sent your senses into overdrive.

“I’m currently inside you and you think I would mind my fucking ankle?” You both laughed at his remark and you pounded harder and faster above him. Your movement was now in cadence with the way he pushed his hips upward, filling you more than ever.

“I’m so close, Minseok!” You exclaimed, every little action of his hands amplified the cloud on your mind.

“Cum for me, baby.” He commanded. And it didn’t even take long before everything else was shut off by your mind, your high led you seeing in white. You senses elated in the most overwhelming sense as he continued fucking you below as he chased his own climax.

You got off of him as he started to release white strings of pleasure. Your hands took place pumping his length to make sure he’ll ride his high well.

“Fuck, fuck that feels so good.” He was unashamed in his words as he cummed on your hands. All messy, hot and sticky as you lay beside him. Beads of sweat evident in your forehead as you chase your breaths back into sanity.

Your head sat on his arm as he put his other arm around you, unspeaking yet filled with so much emotion and sensation.

“The next time, I’ll be the one in charge.” He spoke against your ear, still breathless as his toned chest rapidly rises and falls.

“There’s a next time?” You asked jokingly, even if you want so much more than this being a one time deal.

“The very moment this damned ankle heels, you’re mine again.” Minseok exclaimed.

“Only then? I thought I’ll be yours all the time, now?” You teased with a smile, and his teeth also display in amusement.

“Much better, princess.”

#minseok #kim minseok #minseok imagine #minseok smut #minseok fanfic #xiumin #xiumin smut #xiumin imagine #xiumin fic #exo imagine #exo smut

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greyias · 4 years

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FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 7

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something’s rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won’t rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic’s top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

Time dragged by as they watched the HUD overview on the holotable, waiting for some indication of the mission’s failure or success. There was an occasional affirmative as Darok’s backup squad swept through and finished securing the Academy.

“I had my doubts at first,” Darok rumbled, “but you sure can pick them, Shan. Highwind and her team practically razed the place by themselves.”

It was a bit of an overstatement, but correcting the colonel at this point would just likely turn into a drawn out discussion. Theron didn’t have the time nor patience for that.

“Malcom asked for the best.” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, but his eyes were still trained on the security feeds and the map of the Academy.

He had stopped checking the chrono since the signal from his strike team had winked out as the constant countdown was starting to drive him up the wall. The holotable was now filled with several different feeds from the armor cams of Darok’s men as they secured the exfiltration path. The extra relays they had set up along the way had strengthened the comm signal, but it still wasn’t enough to breach the shielded upper levels. Theron had tried poking around the system some more, just in case he had missed any backdoor to the security system of the Dark Council. Unfortunately that network was still completely separate. It hadn’t miraculously made it’s appearance and unless Highwind and her team stopped what they were doing to try and take down the shielding preventing communications, he was just going to have to be patient. Which was something he was entirely capable of — when time allowed.

That was a resource they definitely were lacking at the moment.

A cluster of dots representing the backup team approached the Academy’s foyer. On the HUD in his optical implant, Theron could see a tall Jedi leading the way. Commander Jensyn’s bearing had more in common with the the SpecOps group he’d been embedded with than that of the softer spoken Jedi Master that had yet to make her reappearance. Jensyn stalked through the halls of the Sith Academy aggressively, wide shoulders tense and ready for combat. Theron hadn’t tapped into their comm frequency, but the armor cam feed occasionally showed him giving out a terse set of orders to the men trailing behind him. There was no time wasted as they secured the area, and moved on to the elevator leading to the upper chambers.

When that cluster of dots disappeared behind the shielding, the tension radiating off of Darok seemed to increase tenfold. Not that Theron was wholly unsympathetic. The lack of feedback from his own team was about to send him up the walls, but all the same he busied himself with fiddling with the comm protocols in an effort to avoid attracting any undue attention. If something like this came up again, maybe he’d be able to find a way to get on the actual extraction team. Dodging blaster fire was preferable to dodging SpecOps’ tempers.

Darok glanced at the chronometer for the tenth time, deep set frown threatening to take up permanent residence there. Theron himself was so absorbed in his busy work with the comms that he almost missed the reappearance of a dot on the holomap. The fuzzy security feed of the elevator treated him to the image of three figures emerging from behind the closed doors. Highwind’s cape billowed behind her as she took large strides down the crumbled stairway, Teeseven and Kira trailing behind closely. The tension drained out of Theron and he keyed his comm, not bothering to hide his relief.

“You like to cut it close, don’t you?” he asked.

“Tell Colonel Darok I have the item,” she replied tersely, “and we are heading back to the landing site now.”

“He’ll be thrilled.” Theron glanced over to see that the man’s deep set frown had given way to a very satisfied, self-congratulatory smile. “Good job, Master Jedi.”

She gave him a small noise of acknowledgement, but seemed more set on leaving the Academy as fast as possible. Not that she shouldn’t have been, but the terse silence was a stark contrast from the amicable banter from before. He keyed up the security feed and enhanced it to get a better look at his operative. Her brows were drawn together in a deep frown, lips pressing together to form a tight line. Theron felt the first stirrings of unease wind through his gut.

He thought about asking if there was a problem, but before he could even open his channel, he heard her quiet voice speak up.

“Did you recruit everyone on this mission, Theron?”

He frowned, wondering exactly where this was coming from. With a quick glance at Darok, he keyed in the subvocal mic and surreptitiously moved out of the other man’s line of sight. “No, I didn’t. Darok brought most of his own people in.”

“Including Jensyn?”

“Yes.” That uneasy feeling that had plagued him from the start of this whole thing began to creep back up. “Why are you asking?”

“I had just finished subduing the Sith who had been guarding the inner chambers when Jensyn and his men arrived. He began talking about a prophecy—”

The line went quiet again, and he was about to ask why when he noticed that her position on the map passed by an outcropping of several of the men securing the exit route. She didn’t speak again until she had reached another open stretch of the path. “Jensyn executed him. Claimed it was self defense.”

“Are you sure?”

“I know what I saw. He could barely stand, he was no threat.”

“He was a member of the Dark Council. You can’t expect—”

“That is not the Jedi way!”

The ferocity in that statement took him aback for a moment. “We can bring him up in an inquiry, make him answer for it.”

“This doesn’t feel right, Theron. None of this does.” The line went quiet for another long stretch as she passed by another contingent of SpecOps soldiers. “I’m starting to think that we shouldn’t have come here.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late to get cold feet at this point?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Frustration and weariness were starting to seep into her tone.

“Then what did you mean?”

“I’m just getting the feeling that I’m not seeing something. Like we haven’t been given the complete picture.”

“I gave as accurate a picture as I could. Especially considering you had someone with inside knowledge of the Academy on your team and didn’t think to mention it.”

“I wasn’t accusing you. And it is not my place to mention others’ pasts, especially ones they are trying to put behind. If you are suggesting that would somehow compromise—“

“I’m not,” he cut her of curtly. “Just sympathizing that it’s hard to do your job when you don’t have all the facts.”

“I was not trying to deceive you.” A thread of contrition wound its way through the frustration and weariness in her tone. “I hope you understand that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively. “All worked out in the end, right?”

“Are you sure about that?”

Highwind came into visual range on the camera feed from the landing zone, her astromech and fellow Jedi struggling to keep up with her quick pace. While she still carried her head high as she swept past the SpecOps forces, he could see from the droop in her shoulders that fatigue from the near constant battles must have taken their toll. Theron was unable to completely ignore the twinge of guilt at her wearied state.

“What you did today wasn’t easy, but it was good work,” he added. “It’s a long flight back to Carrick Station. Maybe you can get some rest. You’ve earned some.”

“I am not sure I agree completely,” she said quietly, “but perhaps I will take the opportunity to meditate. On many things.”

“And that offer of a drink stands, if you’re still interested.”

“I will consider it.” A bit of warmth chased away some of the weariness in her tone. “Thank you.”

His reply was lost as a large contingent of people swept from the shuttle and nearly overwhelmed the tired Jedi. It took him a moment to realize that they were the slaves from earlier as their profuse thanks filled the comm line almost to the point of cacophony. Theron could barely make out her assurances of finding everyone a home in the Republic, but even so he could hear the tired smile in her voice. It was only the intervention of Doc that managed to break through the over enthusiastic and grateful crowd.

Theron logged off the comm as the shuttle entered hyperspace, the excited din of chatter on the shuttle making it too hard to discern anything of value. If Highwind was able to get any meditation in with all of that racket, he would be impressed.

“The package is secure and on its way back to Carrick Station.”

“Excellent.” The satisfied smile that spread across Darok’s face had no trace of the colonel’s characteristic intensity or grimness. “Very good work, Shan.”

Something about that sharp smile set Theron’s nerves on edge. He was grateful they were almost done. The sooner this assignment was over, the better.

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #smoke and mirrors #SoR Fic O Doom #swtor #fanfic #greyfic #(WHOOPS FORGOT THE READ MORE)#(fixed now)

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gaiatheorist · 4 years

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A little knowledge...

I keep starting this, and then deleting it, that’s either an indication that I’m trying to process as fully as i can, or that I’m being avoidant, and slipping into another depressive episode, I’ll keep an eye on it.

I have an untidy heap of paperwork at the side of my desk, it’s not ‘on’ the desk yet, because I’m not quite ready to fill it in. There’s no deadline on it, so it’s ‘floating’, rather than ‘fixed’, and the formatting of it is doing my head in. It’s the end-of-course review and coping plan for the Trauma Stabilisation Group I finished last week. I told my son a few days ago that the ‘mentals’ write their own coping plans, and he was incredulous, I’m relatively good at planning, and taking all factors into consideration, but the new medication, and the appeal against the denial of my disability benefit, and, well, 2020 are taking a toll on me, I’m slipping.

‘Introduction to Trauma Stabilisation Class’, three 90-minute sessions, delivered via Microsoft ‘Teams’, on account of the Covid-19 pandemic, we’re too unwell to be left to our own devices, so the online group was the least-bad option. It’s free, I know a fair few people who have had to pay for their own therapy, because they can’t access NHS treatment, and I know I’m part of a very small, but fortunate number, to still be on NHS lists. Groups of people with mental health issues are always a bit of a gamble, there’s the waiting-room-contagion factor, where some people will exchange symptoms and ‘unhelpful coping mechanisms’, and the weird mix of characters that are inevitable. This was either my third or fourth ‘Introduction to...’ group, and the online format was differently stressful to the in-the-flesh ones. I know ‘most’ of my group-dynamic bad habits, and there’s always a little bit of my cognitive functioning occupied with telling myself *don’t* do this, or that. In a nutshell, I’m a watchful show-off, the ‘feeling small and vulnerable’ part of my C-PTSD would, historically, lead me to muck about, or attempt to dominate groups, throw in my autistic ‘organising’, my professional desire to help, and the fatigue and over-stimulus from the brain injuries, and I *could* be a nightmare in groups.

I was honest with the triage staff right from the beginning, it’ll be in my notes that I acknowledge my tendencies to ‘take charge’, as a means of coping with so much in my life that’s been beyond my control, it’s not all deliberate, and it’s sometimes really useful. I’m a sheep-dog, which is productive when I’m rounding up stragglers, and pointing them in the right direction, less-so when I’m distracted by a squirrel outside the window.

Being what I am, and knowing what I know from my previous career is a double-edged sword. I know the fancy words for the theories and processes, so can be mildly irritated when the language has to be dumbed-down to the lowest common denominator. It does have to be, though, on the previous course, we had a couple of participants who couldn’t read the text on the worksheets (formatting issue, too much text crammed onto each page, to save on photocopying costs, they strained my eyes a bit) I can’t do my (TM) Autistic thing of assuming that, if I ‘know’ a thing, everyone else in the room does too. I can do my helpful thing of re-explaining something the facilitator has said if the group don’t seem to ‘get’ it, or clarifying something a participant has said if the facilitators misconstrue it. (One of the staff on the previous course was an absolute horror for that, she wasn’t listening actively, just barrelling on with what she thought had been said, people stop volunteering information when that happens.) I’m not there to ‘help’, or to ‘lead’, though. One of the participants in this last group threw a bit of a tantrum, she’d dominated most of the speaking in the previous session, and flipped when I was given air-time to explain something. That was hard to deal with, because I automatically switched to Mentor-mode, and very nearly lost track of the content trying to think of a way to alert one of the facilitators to check in on her, and try to bring her down from her agitated state before she hurt herself.

I’m dabbling with the slightly paranoid theory that some participants, or even facilitators might think I’m a Mystery Shopper sort of thing. My ‘old’ practices and processes made a lot of people ask “How do you DO that?”, the ‘Matilda’-thing, I just do, I’m exceptional at a lot of very difficult things sometimes, but I can’t use oven-gloves, and, especially recently, I’ve been forgetting a lot of words. Other participants might think I’m a smart-arse, I am, it doesn’t matter, I imagine I frustrate the facilitators because I can give theoretically correct answers, but can’t consistently apply the theories in my own life. I’m not there to make friends, we all have to sign contracts of expectations saying we won’t form relationships, I understand that, an elective empathy with other high-end mental health cases is never going to be a good thing. My curious combination of conditions makes me a bit of a distance-er anyway, I stick as firmly as I can to the procedural pathways, it’s a process-with-purpose, not a popularity contest.

I’m struggling with the ‘be kind to yourself’ angle again. It’s not in my nature, I don’t know how. That bumps heads with the ‘normalising nice things’, even at this level of mental health intervention, we’re encouraged to ‘savour the taste of your favourite food’- food is just fuel, I don’t have a favourite, and, when people start banging on about chocolate, or cake, or whatever, I don’t get it. Visit a favourite place, phone/meet up with a friend, listen to uplifting music, go for a walk, buy yourself flowers, have a haircut, all of the ‘normal’ nice-things leave me cold, I don’t really have hobbies or interests, very few things spark my oxytocin or dopamine responses, I’m not a joyful type, that’s my baseline-normal, not a press-the-panic-button indicator that I’m depressed.

“You’re just not trying!” Luckily, nobody ‘medical’ has trotted that one out, but it’s been the backing track to my life pretty much forever. I am trying, I’m trying very hard, especially since the brain injuries. There’s been a slow realisation that I have to pick my battles wisely, though. I’ve long maintained that anyone who’s ‘always’ happy must have a flap in their back where the batteries go, I’m not advocating living in a constant state of ‘Eeyore’ gloom, but constant joy must be bloody exhausting. I’m not always moody or maudlin, I’m just sort of ‘flat’, not particularly animated or enthusiastic about much, but I can engage for short periods when I need to. “Smile, love, it might never happen!” can get right in the bin, and, as the internet pointed out the other day, telling someone to ‘just think positive’ as a cure-all is ridiculous. Well-meaning, but oblivious people will chip in with their intrusive-insensitive opinions of how a bit of yoga, or more vegetables are all we need to be all-better, and it’s a challenge to not point out that some of us are a bit beyond ‘just snapping out of it’.

That’s not defeatist. I’m autistic, my brain runs on a non-standard Operating System, the updates don’t always load, and I have to make a hell of a lot of work-around adaptations. Sometimes life’s like walking everywhere with my shoes on the wrong feet, and sometimes it’s like my appliances have come with the wrong plug, and I have to stick a spoon-handle in the Earth socket to make them work. On top of the autism, I had a succession of adverse experiences through the course of my life, which have left me with C-PTSD. I have a telephone-directory of medical conditions, and the icing on the cake was the brain haemorrhage five years ago, I have brain injuries, bits of metal plugging up aneurysms, and one area of ‘risky’ defects on my brain-stem. Those are facts, I have a file of medical paperwork about two inches thick, but the UK disability benefit departments have decided to latch onto the fact that I’m not on any medication for mental health issues. (I’ve tried lots, none of them worked long-term, and now we know we’re dealing with a neurodevelopmental disorder, and physical brain damage, I don’t think a bit of Prozac is going to help.)

Knowing that my brain is physically and chemically different to ‘most’ people’s is not a get-out-of-jail-free-card. These are reasons, not excuses, and I’m doing what I can to work within and around my limitations. I’m not unique, or a special unicorn, I’m disabled, and damaged, and trying to work with the fragmented NHS. One of the issues with the trauma course was the assumptions. I absolutely don’t blame the facilitators, they’re working with pre-prepared material, and a ‘difficult’ cohort. I did gently correct the course-leader, when she started listing ‘normal’ coping mechanisms, the walk-in-the-park, cup-of-tea-with-friends type ones. Some of those ‘simple’ activities are incredibly difficult for some of us, that’s why we’re at this level of intervention, if we could have ‘just’ joined a knitting circle, or taken up photography, we’d already have done it. I explained the need for pacing, the other two participants had limited impulse control, so giving the ‘shopping list’ of strategies was a bit risky, I know I have a tendency to over-reach, so need to be careful with myself. None of us had mentioned nightmares or flashbacks, but they’re on the standard list of indicators for PTSD. There was an assumption that we all had them, in the same way as one of the other triage practitioners, ages ago, told me “It’s not PTSD, because you don’t have nightmares.” I have auditory and olfactory flashbacks and hallucinations.

The doctors that didn’t make further investigations for the mutated migraines before the aneurysm ruptured. The gyneacologist that told my HUSBAND “There’s nothing physically wrong with her.”, the Occupational Health doctor who told me “It’s not vertigo, because that’s spinning.” and “It wasn’t a stroke, because you don’t have one-sided weakness.” I know they have to have lists of diagnostic criteria to start from, but Little-Miss-Autistic here spent far too long just-trying-to-cope because I didn’t fit neatly into their matrices. (Don’t get me started on DWP/PIP ignoring reams of evidence, and just picking out that I turned up to the assessment with my trousers on the right way around...)

I know too much about some things, and not enough about others. My ‘flat’ presentation gives the impression that I’m calm when I’m not, and coping more than I am. The review for the trauma class isn’t until September, and I genuinely don’t know what the next step will be. I’m already on the waiting list for the ‘Compassion’ course, and the very long waiting list for the Specialist Neurodevelopmental Service in the city, to see if there’s anything ‘else’ I haven’t already tried to work within and around the autism. I’ve slipped through a million holes in a million nets, because I know enough to give the answers I ‘should’, the biggest irony is that when I answer “I don’t know.”, the assumption is that I’m being defensive or difficult. A little knowledge is indeed a dangerous thing.

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