#who cannot handle flashing lights

[lxkeee]

MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE

—PART SEVEN

PAIRING: LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEM! FALLEN ANGEL! READER

FANDOM: HAZBIN HOTEL

GENRE: ROMANCE

WARNINGS: CURSING & ADAM

NOTES: I tried to write the fight scene but I think it's shit sooo anyways, hope you guys like it lol

PART ONE | PART SIX | FINALE

“Are you worried...?” [y/n] asked softly against Lucifer's chest as they cuddled on his bed, his thumb rubbing circles on her back. These past few months they have gotten closer, though unsure how to speak about their growing feelings for each other. They both know but also don't know how to approach the other and talk about it. They had a mutual unspoken agreement that both of them aren't ready yet, especially Lucifer who cannot yet part from his beloved wedding ring.

Lucifer sighs, clearly worried. Today is the extermination day and he is scared for his daughter but despite his power, he doesn't have enough to intervene unless heaven breaks their contract then he'll have to do something about it.

“Of course, I am.” he whispers, his hand squeezing [y/n]'s waist slightly, [y/n] noticing it immediately and sighs before pulling herself away from his embrace and sitting down beside him on the empty spot of his bed, making Lucifer pout slightly at the loss of contact.

“I understand but if something does happen, we will both be there to help them.” [y/n] says with a small smile, poking the redness of his cheek. [Y/n] admired him, the soft pink lighting coming from the tinted windows caressing his light complexion, adding depth to his otherworldly beauty. Truly divine.

His eyes half-lidded as he gazed at her, she was sitting against the streak of light, the shadows accentuating her features, he admired her [e/c] eyes hidden behind her long eyelashes, the plumpness of her lips, the softness of her cheeks. All of her is beautiful to him.

Lucifer quickly shakes off his thoughts, what were they doing again?

With a sigh, he smiled at her, “Yes, we'll be there to help if something ever goes wrong.” he says, slowly intertwining his hand with hers and with her squeezing his in return after. The two looked at each other with smiles on their faces, eyes dilated as they saw the other through heart shaped glasses.

Unfortunately, the peaceful atmosphere was broken as Lucifer's eyes widened, something that [y/n] noticed immediately which made her worried.

“Is there something wrong?” [y/n] asked, worried as she can clearly see the distress look on Lucifer's face. He quickly sat up and held her shoulders.

“We have to go, now!” Lucifer exclaimed, distressed and [y/n] can already tell that something happened with Charlie. She nodded and allowed Lucifer to hold her hand as he pulled her inside with him to a portal he just opened.

Finally arriving, anger flashed within their veins. Realizing the situation, Charlie getting choked by none other than Adam, Vaggie being held back by Lute, and the others surrounded by multiple exorcists.

Lucifer and [y/n] looked at each other, not needing to speak what they wanted to convey to each other.

“I'll handle Adam.”

“Then I'll handle Lute and the others, stay safe.”

“You too. Please, I can't lose you too.”

Then they nodded and separated their ways. Lucifer immediately swoops down to save Charlie by punching Adam on the face and quickly catching the girl in his arms while [y/n] quickly swooped in to push Lute away from Vaggie.

Both Charlie and Vaggie's eyes widened, finally seeing the two powerful angelic beings they know.

“Dad!?” Charlie exclaimed, surprised but thankful he came to help her and her friends, turning to look at Vaggie who was supported by none other than [y/n], holding the girl's body in support.

“And Miss [y/n]?” she added, surprised that the woman is also here. Lucifer smiled down at his daughter, gently putting her down on to the ground.

“Sorry we weren't here sooner, sweetie.” He says softly, patting the girl's head. Charlie was just glad they are here.

[Y/n] turned to look at Vaggie, helping the poor girl by healing her wounds. “You poor thing, are you alright?” [y/n] asked her and Vaggie just nodded, shoulders relaxing as she felt her exhaustion and pain going away as the older woman healed her.

“Yes, now that you healed me. Thank you.” Vaggie says and [y/n] smiles before turning around at the sound of Adam grunting.

“Seriously! How many of you freaks do I have to fight?” Adam angrily says as he climbs back up the roof. Lucifer smirked as he began to pull his sleeves up as he approached Adam and Vaggie heard [y/n] whistle slightly.

“Oh I'm the only one that matters, see, you messed with my daughter and now... I am going to FUCK YOU!” Lucifer exclaimed proudly with a smirk on his face.

Silence. Clearly taken aback by the king of hell's statement. Some smirking and raising an eyebrow at him.

Me first... Wait who said that? [Y/n] thought to herself, almost chuckling. Vaggie looking at her, almost as if she could read her mind. [Y/n] just giving the ex-exorcist an innocent smile.

Charlie hesitantly leaned towards her father to whisper to his ear, “Its fuck you up, dad.” she says and Lucifer looked at her with confusion, “Wait... What did I say...?” he asked and was quickly pushed by Adam.

[Y/n]'s eyes demonically reddened in anger and her nails sharpened for a brief moment as she saw Lucifer getting hurt but quickly disappeared as Lucifer was able to come out unscratched. A sigh of relief left [y/n]'s lips. Vaggie just stood terrified next to her, the first witness to her demonic side.

[Y/n] gave a raised eyebrow at the girl, confused why the girl was so terrified of all of the sudden but quickly shakes her head as she flies down to help the others.

Snapping her fingers, golden chains came out of the ground and grabbed the exorcists' wrists. Flicking her wrist to flick the exorcists away from her friends. She's unsure if she's allowed to kill them so she opted in just throwing them as far as possible.

“You're the most hated being in all of creation!” Adam sneered angrily, annoyed as Lucifer kept dodging his attacks.

Lucifer smirked, “Whoah! Well your first wife didn't seem to hate what I have to offer or the second~! bow-chika-bow-wow!” He says, doing some thrust gestures which angered Adam even more.

“I'll fucking end you!” Adam growled as he tries to catch up to Lucifer.

She chuckled as she could slightly hear Lucifer making fun of Adam, Lucifer is clearly enjoying himself.

Turning around to look at the Hazbin Hotel crew, “Are you guys okay?” [y/n] asked and Angel Dust smirked, “Yeah, now that you guys are here toots!”

[Y/n] giggles, her wings flapping behind her back to keep her afloat, “Glad to know! Keep yourself safe? Mhmm? I'm going to help him a bit!” she says and Angel gave her a salute and continues to gun down the other exorcists.

Flying back to the roof to see Lute fighting Vaggie again, quickly summoning her chains to wrap around Lute's neck, “Leave her the fuck alone!” [y/n] screamed angrily, eyes burning red in anger and she quickly swung the chain, throwing the Lieutenant away from Vaggie. Charlie running towards them in concern.

“Vaggie! Are you okay?!” [y/n] asked worriedly, her normal appearance returning but her eyes widened as she saw Adam about to fire a large holy beam towards her, Charlie and Vaggie.

Without thinking, [y/n] quickly pushed the two girls away into a safe place. Making the two girls let out a surprised yelp.

The beam easily sliced through the hotel like a piece of cake. Caught off guard, [y/n] wasn't able to move her body into a proper flying position, rendering her wings useless. Making her fall, she screamed in surprise. Lucifer realizing that she's falling, his heart thumping in fear as he quickly swoops down, begging himself to reach her on time.

“[y/n]!” three people screamed in fear for her. She closed her eyes in fear, trying to calm herself down.

[Y/n] felt gentle yet strong arms catching her. She opened her eyes to see Lucifer looking down on her as he carried her princess style in his arms. He smiled at her, “I got ya.” he says with a charming smile, though [y/n] can tell he was scared for her based on his tone.

She smiled at him but she noticed something approaching behind Lucifer, realizing it was Adam who was approaching them in fury. [Y/n]'s eyes widened, her sclera turning red again.

“Lucifer look out!” [y/n] screamed in anger, her hand was able to catch Adam's punch, her now demonically long nails gripping into the first man's skin in anger.

Lucifer was caught off guard at [y/n]'s demonic form, this is the first time he's seen it and he assumed it just manifested. Despite her terrifying demonic appearance, he still found her very attractive.

He shakes off those thoughts, clearly not the proper time to have them. His own eyes turn red in anger from Adam. He then pulled Adam's arm and pulled the man in front of him and kicked him down to the cold hard cement.

He gently let go of [y/n] allowing her to fly by his side despite the absolute fury he was feeling. His more demonic side showing.

[Y/n] found him to be absolutely breathtaking. So this is the king of hell. She thought, her red sclera eyes admiring him. She didn't even notice that she too was in her demon form. Goat-like horns curled at the sides of her head, her teeth slightly now sharper, eyes now red, nails are now sharper. Her halo above her head is now dark red.

[Y/n] watched as Lucifer approached Adam, holding the man's collar as Lucifer began to punch him.

“You come at me and my family! Don't forget, you're in my house bitch!” he grins maniacally and was about to give him a finishing blow as he held his hands above his head, a ball of fire forming on his hands but Charlie stopped him.

“Woah, whoah, dad stop! He's had enough.” Charlie says and Lucifer was brought back to reality. Lucifer calmed down and walked away, “How does mercy taste like you little bitch?” he asked with a smirk, flying up the crater in which [y/n] helped him up by offering her hand in which he gladly accepted.

Both of them calming down, their demonic features slowly disappearing. “Are you okay?” [y/n] asked him softly and Lucifer shrugs with a small smile, finally taking in her new features—the curled up goat-like horns and dark red halo above her head. Beautiful as always.

“I'm fine, I love your horns.” He says with a small smile and [y/n]'s eyes widened, her hand immediately reaching up to her head to feel the new horns that grew. She looked at him with slight nervousness, “Does it make me look weird?” she asked and Lucifer shook his head, “Never. Horns or not, you looked beautiful as always.” he says with a charming smirk, making [y/n] blush, “Charming as always.” she says with a giggle but their attention was diverted to hear Adam groan in pain.

“No... You don't get to end this.” Adam growled in pain, weakly standing up from the rubble of where he crashed, “I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man!” he yelled, turning to look at Lucifer and [y/n], “And you're just some fucking clown and you're just a bitch or something!” Lucifer's eyes sharpened when he heard what he called [y/n], “What did you call her?!” Lucifer sneered and he was about to give the angel a piece of his mind when [y/n] held out her arm to stop him and she shook her head at him.

“I started everything on earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts!” Adam exclaimed and [y/n] visibly looked disgusted at Adam as she listened to him talk.

“You all should be worshipping me! You ungrateful, disgusting, fucking, loser—aaah!” he screamed in pain and the others just looked at him in surprise to see something impaled the first man.

“Uhh... You got something stuck in your...” Lucifer hesitantly pointed at Adam's chest and [y/n] nodded, visibly concerned.

Adam passes out face first and it revealed that Niffty stabbed him.

“Niffty?!” [y/n] and Charlie exclaimed, Niffty just gave a maniacal grin as she began to continuously stab Adam, “YEAH STAB STAB STAB STAB!” the smaller girl giggles insanely before walking away.

“Noooo! Sirrr!” Lute screamed in horror, quickly approaching Adam and calling out to him.

Lucifer approached the two, clearly still mad, “It's over.” Charlie says standing beside her father, “Take your little friends AND GO HOME!” Lucifer growled, fuming before immediately smiling, “Please.” he added.

Lute glared at him, taking Adam's halo with her. “ALL EXORCISTS FALL BACK AND RETREAT!” She orders, flying up as a portal opened for the exorcists' to pass through.

The others watching the angels leave and also watch the portal closed.

Lucifer turns to look at them with a grin on his face, “So... How about some pancakes?” he asked and Niffty raised her hand excitedly. [Y/n] just chuckles and shakes her head, turning to look at the chaos and destruction the angels left. There's still so much to fix.

TAGLIST

@selvyyr @leo4242564 @blushhpeachh @lunanight1021 @dvc4 @nehy019 @lu-ferri12 @lilteamushroom @froggybich @eddiemunson4ever @who-let-me-write-this @gurutan27 @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @hcneyiced @valerie-36 @jovialcat123 @b0nn1e @raeinn @wally-darling-hyperfixation @faefanatic @trashbin-nie @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @luleck @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @hxzbinwrites @snoozewritezz @juskonutoh @mayhimouto513 @hcneyiced @koirb @viylikescats @ren-ren23 @kouyoumarryme @dou-dou @thatsquitepoggers @rosecatlady18 @avitute @rosecatlady18 @crescent-z

#lxkeee answers #hazbin hotel #lxkeee updates #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne #“MLIMAM” — LUCIFER X READER

[flamingpudding]

The Ghost King is my Uncle Drabbles #2

A/N: Some more linked to a prompt week writing I did

>>Masterpost

Original this builds on: Link

Rowdy Cousin

Batman swore internally, from the outside he stoically sat in his chair and did nothing to indicate the absolute chaos that was going on in his mind. The Meeting rooms light flickered and the speakers once more started up loudly blaring a song all over the Watchtower. He was pretty sure one of his sons had told him once that playing that song was a meme.

"Someone do something about that kid! He is Rickrolling us!" Green Lantern screamed above the music.

"Constantine is already trying to do something." Superman's hands covering his sensitive ears as the music must sound to him even louder.

Batman very much only looped one thought in his head. -It's only for world ending purpose, I cannot use it right now.-

He had a responsibility to uphold, he was the patriarch of the earth branch family. This was not something that required him to use that. No he would not use it. He refused. This was not a world ending matter. Surely Constantine or anyone else of the Justice League Dark would solve this problem any second now.

The screens flicker and Batman did anything he could in his mind to not let his eye twitch even if no one would be able to see it. Cat videos were playing where second earlier statistics and observatory programs had been running.

No he would not, they could handle this problem no need to involve family.

The music stopped and some of his hero colleagues let out a relieved sigh only for a familiar laugh to echo through the watchtower and a new song starting to play. One that apparently counts all 100 dumb ways to die.

"Why is Klarion even targeting the watchtower like this?!" The Flash shouted over the lyrics before turning to him.

"Did one of your kids piss him off or something?!"

"No." At least not as far as he knew, though considering the recent discovery as well as the surprise visits his uncle had done lately he might have a guess why the witch boy was targeting them right now. Didn't mean he would elaborate this reason to the other heroes present.

Before Wonder Woman could comment John Constantine stormed in the room and slammed his hands down onto the table staring right at Batman with blood shot eyes. "Call him."

"Who?"

"Don't play fucking dumb bats. You know who I mean. This is not the witch brat alone. There is another entity and if you don't want the fucking watchtower crashing into earth you call him right now."

"Bats, he is not talking about who I think he is?" Superman carefully asked while the other heroes looked at him just as questionable.

He held his staring contest with Constantine a little longer before he grunted and reached into his utility belt pulling out a small bat-shaped pendant. A personalized upgraded calling card, his uncle had gifted to him as well as each of his children and extended family members.

This was not how he imagined a meeting in regards to his new discoveries and a possible sure fire contingency plan against world ending emergencies would go. He rubbed his thumb against the engraving waiting for a short moment for it to pulse, before tapping the pendant three times, paused and tapped it two more times. This was a non-emergency call, even if his colleagues might disagree.

He still thought they could very well handle this situation without the help of his uncle.

"BABY BAT, YOU CALLED THIS IS THE FIRST TIME YOU DID!"

The present heroes watched in stunned fashion how a white haired, 20 years old man stepped out of a green portal and instantly zoomed across the room to hug THE Batman around his head rubbing his cheek against the bat's cowl mindful of the pointy parts.

And Batman was letting the man do that only looking resigned.

"We agreed that I would only call on you with this pendant for emergencies."

The white haired man only hummed before his head turned sharply and green glowing eyes narrowed at Constantine, who visibly paled and took a step back standing straight and looking very much like he regretted what he had asked Batman to do. "Trading game is not being rude to you is he?"

The bat only grunted and the white haired man finally let go of him, humming as he took in his surroundings, eyes glinting in mischievously as he saw the flickering lights, animal videos on screen and heard the blaring music over the speaker. "When I okey-ed Klarion to go playing with his cousins I didn't think he would seek you two out. He had been talking about his older cousins starting another game of 'who's the better demon lord' in different dimensions. I thought he was joining their bet."

Wait did he say two? Batman grunted and the white haired guy chuckled. "I will be back in a second."

Not even the Flash could react as fast as the white haired man disappeared and reappeared with Klarion next to him. Clearly pulling on the witch boy's ear like a father would when their child had been naughty. The flickering lights and blaring of music over the speakers had stopped.

"Ow DAD what in the name of chaos are you doing here."

"Your Cousin called me. You are disturbing his work and risking them crashing into earth with Technus' help."

"YOU SNITCHED TO MY DAD?!"

"Hn."

"Technus get out of their network or I will lock you up on a Medieval Island for three decades."

As if the present heroes weren't confused enough a face appeared on one of the screens. Glaring at the white haired man. "You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me, if you stay in there any longer. I will also dig out the old thermos and soup you additionally for a decade or more."

The face on screen grumbled and the heroes nearly flinched back as a ghostly, green skinned man came out of it, looking every bit frustrated and annoyed. "I was just getting a good look at this modern technology, you have banned me from any big shot Industries…"

"We had that discussion 100 years ago, Technus. Back to the Ghost Zone." The white haired man commanded by opening a portal next to them with the wave of his hand and surprisingly, the green skinned guy listened.

"Sorry about this Baby Bat and Little Demi. Klarion will be grounded for a bit and re-educated in how to bond without risking potentially killing any bystanders. Oh and remember I will come by later for Baby Ghost to get his checkup with Frostbite!"

"Dad, please no grounding! Anything but that!"

"I am sure your Grandpa will be happy to have your help during your grounding."

"Dad! NO! I don't want to keep time in order! I live for chaos not order!"

The man was just smiling and completely ignoring Klarion's complains as he turned towards Batman and Wonder Woman, for reasons the hero's didn't understand.

"Well we will be on our way then Baby Bat, Little Demi!"

Batman grunted and the white haired man chuckled, leaving through the portal and dragging along a whining Klarion, who apparently was that man's son.

Just before the portal closed, the man stuck his head back out looking towards Wonder Woman with a mischievous smile. "Oh before I forget! Pops Clockwork sents his regards Little Demi . He doesn't want me saying this, but he is glad about the path you choose. Says you're set on a pretty good timeline!"

The head disappeared into the portal again and it finally closed. Wonder Woman was left blinking at the empty space, her mouth slightly open with the silent question of "What?"

"Bats, who was that?" The Flash was the first to break the silence that had followed as eyes turned to the dark knight.

"His Uncle." / "The Ghost King."

Superman and Constantine spoke at the same time. The JLD member flinched back as he looked at the glowering bat. Muttering something the man took his leave or rather escaped the room as quickly as possible as Batman kept glaring. Meanwhile Wonder Woman was slowly having a crisis of her own as suddenly family relations that had been hinted to her through Pandora made sense. "Clockwork... no, Titan Cronus? The Ghost King... Uncle Daniel?"

Chaos broke among the present heroes.

"WHAT UNCLE?!"

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #fanfic #crossover #batman #klarion #superman #wonder wonder #clockwork #john constantine #dpxdc #dcxdp #Ghost Uncle Danny #Klarion is messing with his cousins #Wonder Woman is part of the family #Klarion is Rickrolling the Watchtower #crackish #no beta wie die like danny #drabble #oh and Technus is there too

[doberbutts]

I also think there needs to be a conversation about conflicting needs and also a conversation about how inadequate accessibility is a constant within so-called disability-friendly spaces where something is accessible for one but not for someone else and how people feel satisfied with their accomodations often don't realize others are sorely lacking on theirs.

But I think this sort of conversation needs to happen without pointing fingers, because often a lack of adequate accessibility standards is not the fault of those who ARE being accomodated but rather the fault of the ableist perfectly able-bodied 100% non-disabled people who design these spaces.

As said, nothing stopped me from entering the movie theater. I could get in the building. But can I actually stay for the movie? Well... debatable. In this instance, the building is perfectly accessible for those with mobility-related needs. But it is significantly less accessible for those with sensory problems regarding bright flashing lights (which btw is something that can be caused by both mental and physical disability 🤷‍♂️)

On the flip side, my house is incredibly friendly to both mobility and sensory related needs... but it is not possible to enter my house in a wheelchair because there is a step up regardless of what doorway you use. Yet there is quite a lot of assistive design in my bathroom installed by the previous owner to accomodate someone using a walker.

Then we have my job, which is wheelchair accessible to clients but not to employees. The places clients can go are 100% flat. The bathroom is large and has bars for easy access to the toilet. The lobby and exam rooms are spacious. There is the option to swing around the high counter for those who need a lower working space. But employees need to go up a flight of stairs depending on their workday (doctor offices, medical archives, and the employee lounge are all upstairs in three different buildings, two of which are not accessible except by stairs themselves), the bathrooms do not have bars or handles (and one of them it's not possible to even accomodate my office manager, who is both fat and tall, because he cannot physically fit inside of that space), and there is a tall step to access the surgeey suite. In other words, you can be a client in a wheelchair, but you cannot be an employee in a wheelchair.

These are examples of inadequate accessibility, and they do need to be fixed. But the problem isn't "because mentally ill people are accomodated"- it's "because the person who designed these places didn't think about x need or y need and did not build according to those needs, because they aren't disabled themselves or disabled in the same way themselves".

[insane-control-room]

Some things are meant to be remembered; for the right reasons.

i've posted this review on steam, but i think that i want to say it here, too.

Here is my review of the 'promotional' material (according to steam) Secrets of the Machine

What I liked: the art appeared to be a true return to form; the style had its original charm with updated lighting techniques and slightly better optimization than previous games in the Bendy series. The audio design was also nice, with good ambiance and nice composition.

And now, the jank.

The game handles reasonably well; but it is clearly slapdashed together and is missing important components. There is no starting menu. There are no loading screens; and it is very jarring. There are no options in the game menu - you cannot minimize the game, you cannot brighten the game, you cannot make the game run any better on your computer, and it is incredibly laggy. If you have a potato laptop? Nah, get out. No game for you. There are no subtitles that you can enable, and voices are very muffled. Additionally, the game is very dark, and as mentioned, you cannot adjust that in the settings of the game, nor in steam settings. You have to do so from your computer.

Controls are extremely janky, as you cannot run, you cannot jump, and there is no indication for interaction with any objects. There are no control settings for remapping, and you cannot even see which keys do what.

Puzzles are boring and confusing; with no guidance. There were no hints, no rhyme or reason. There was more puzzle in the BATIM chapter 1 demo release. This thing is very confusing, especially when you cannot see anything at all. You will spend a long time walking back and forth between two rooms, wondering how you can progress, because you've done everything you could: you smashed cutouts; you hit targets; you opened and closed hands; you found posters for future games, but nothing that could move forward the one you were playing at the time. If you look at the community page, you will see that most people simply spent their time clicking on the soup can dispenser to see how many cans they could get.

If you have epilepsy, nah get out. Oh? I didn't mention the flashing lights? Well the developers did not either. Not only did they not mention the flashing lights, not in the game nor in steam, but they included TWO car crashes without warning - one audio based, and another that was directed at players. This is not only rude, but it is dangerous. Warnings exist so that people can make educated choices whether or not to interact with content that may be sensitive to them. Warn people appropriately. This 'game' did not take any measure to protect its players. There are many instances of sudden loud noises, flashing lights, and jarring location switches (not to mention the car crashes).

The story was lacking, and has nothing to do with the puzzles that a player is faced with. It feels like three disjointed tracks, and none of them align, all of them crashing together in a discordant, unsatisfying, confusing mess. It brought in more new characters that had nothing to do with the original story nor interested players, and had content that went against previously established material. It was (as you can tell, from a writer's perspective) a bad story.

It was less of a demo, less of a playable trailer, more like a tech demo with a few morsels for fans to pick apart and wish there was more of, wish there was more effort put into, wish there was more love and care for them, the players who arguably were the foundation of this game. There were teasers for games that, honestly, lacked the soul that the very first game had, and here's a point to prove it: there was an easter egg that if you clicked something 414 times (very funny.) it would rise in the air and then fall down without further ado. In the game files, the name for that sound effect? Sting. Yeah. It did. Games are a collaborative work; between the creators and the players. Blatant disregard and flippancy towards half of the collaboration is not acceptable behavior. This is a development team that mocks those who once loved them most, those who poured over their coding and carefully crafted world to marvel at what they had made, and coaxed in others with the rich promise of a delightful story that anyone could engage with on any level. The spite the creators have shown for the individuals who, essentially, had given rise to their stature in the first place, is painful.

Finally, by the time that I got a chance to sit down and actually play the game- I personally could not. The developers, by constantly updating a clearly unfinished game, had made their final update - that of a wood board blocking the actual place where gameplay takes place. You cannot go to any of the places shown in the screenshots, because the game is locked on the opening area. I've seen many people complaining of it; hoping that they can play the game.

Now, in the fashion we've seen common of JDS, they have rescinded their terrible design choice - but without notifying players that it is now possible to play the game; without telling players that this was purposeful; without telling players anything aside from a big old screw you. It is entirely possible that the only reason they put the game back into a playable state was the torrent of negative reviews that spawned after their. interesting. choice. regardless, those who care about their playerbase would have informed those who complained that it was a temporary gesture for storytelling reasons. They, however, did not, and there are a multitude of reviews marking the game as unplayable.

No matter what, the bottom line is this: This is not okay.

I'm not sure how much more eloquently I can put the fact that I'm heartbroken. This game, unlike any other, shows how much scorn that a developer can have for their own fans and playerbase. I am glad that there are people who enjoyed it, but I wonder - what did you really like about it?

Is it the memories?

#control critique #secrets of the machine #bendy #batim #bendy secrets of the machine #bendy and the ink machine #bsotm #bsotm review #game review

[hangesdarling]

… marley hans capturing scout/titan shifter reader and doing experiments on her while being a flirt *runs away*

captive — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x female reader SYNOPSIS. You're a Titan shifter responsible for handling the Female Titan but you were held captive by a Marleyan scientist who won't stop flirting with you. CONTENT. Suggestive content, nothing explicit, just Hange being a huge flirt, implied sex WORD COUNT. 2.3k A/N. omg anon i swear this idea is on my hange drafts already. love this idea so muchh

It could have been afternoon or midnight but the place you were detained to cannot even allow a sliver of light. You knew it had been hours ago, but your skin still tingled from being captured by hundreds of sharp harpoons, encasing your Female Titan in a tight restraint. Next thing you knew, you were back to your human form, surrounded by people in lab coats while they converse in crazed enthusiasm as though they were trained to gawk at the likes of you. They tied you up with much restraint from how you were struggling, even landing a blind fist or two on whoever touched you. You observed how haphazard and loose the ropes in your hands were. If you weren't so drained, you could have made an escape considering how busy those scientists were in sputtering words sounding nonsense from how fast they were talking. The noise only stopped at the entrance of a familiar figure, one imposing authority who ordered all of them out of that lab room.

Dr. Zoë. That's the name they were addressed by. Despite the authority this new figure seemed to be holding, one of the unruly in that bunch had the nerve to protest, even addressing them by their first name.

Hange.

From the darkness, the sharp look in their eyes was enough to disconcert anyone, causing any further protests from those scientists to clam up. The group left the room after being ordered for the last time.

In the faint muted light illuminating the room, you observed this person with relaxed eyes matching their sharp features. The brown locks framing their face along those rimmed glasses made them look so enchanting in this light. They pulled two chairs from the side, sitting on one before they offered you the other.

"Hello there. Y/N, isn't it? Nice to have you here." They smiled. It unsettled you not because they're creepy but it was said with much welcoming tenderness. You're beginning to notice how lovely the shade of brown in their eyes looked. 

You were on the verge of obeying but snapped immediately and reminded yourself that this person is your enemy. The one that led to your capture as you remembered.

"I'm not sitting there. Go to hell," you said with much bitterness.

But Hange wasn't one to get mad so easily. Their anger wasn't something pleasant to be on the receiving end of. They only smiled at you, flashing the mischief in their eyes.

"Such rude words from such a pretty girl. Is that how you island devils greet other people?" they smirked, the way they were sitting cross-legged almost felt like a taunt. You only glared in response, fingering over the loose ropes on your back. Hange sighed, a small knowing smile remained on their face before they stood up and went to your back. They pulled you to their body, your back almost pressing against their chest as they tightened the ropes around your wrists. A warning, a way to tell you that they're not to be messed around with.

"Right. Sorry. Please don’t get offended, I'm only messing with you. Just sit down," they said, almost apologetic for their previous remark as they forced you down on the chair.

Once you were sitting down, they knelt in front of you, this time busying their hands around restraining your feet. They spoke as they did so.

"You know, those scientists harassing you earlier, they could be authorized if they wanted to. But I'm the head of this experiment so don't you worry. I'm handling you from now on. Aren't you excited?" Hange looked softly at you but it wasn't exactly a comforting one.

You divert your attention from them, trying to focus on the issue at hand.

"What the hell do you want from me? The Female Titan?"

Hange shook their head, sitting back in their chair after tying up your feet. "We're not there yet. I'm here to observe you for a while."

They explained all the things you would undergo. All the tests they spoke of seemed to be directed at measuring the extent of the Female Titan's battle strength and endurance. This scientist's intuition placed a fear within you. You knew that they would get all the answers they needed after a few weeks of the experiment. They act flirty and playful to mask the intent and determination to get their questions answered.

"What makes you think I'll cooperate with you?" you glared at them.

"Oh, you will. You have no choice, after all," Hange answered with a slight chuckle.

"Perhaps. But I'll make every moment of this experiment a hell for you." That much was true, you wanted to prove that having you will never be easy. The Marleyans may pride themselves on technological and weaponry advancement but your resourcefulness and skills were honed through rough training. The careful and organized capture plan of the Marleyan military was enough to prove that you weren't easy prey.

"Oh, great then. I love difficult things," they grinned, taking a clipboard from their table. They read over the contents, gently nibbling at the cap as they were thinking. You wanted to kick down the leg of their chair from how lightly they were taking this.

"All right, let's start," they spoke again. "You hardened your body to escape us but failed. I still have a few samples of that crystalline substance."

They raised their eyes above their glasses to look at you, their gaze traveling along the length of your arm.

"You still have tiny scabs on your skin from your failure to transform. Can I see?" they asked. But you only pursed your lips in response, remaining watchful of their actions.

Hange would not take no for an answer anyway so they began to work on untying the restraint around one of your wrists. However, they paused and added, "I'll free your arm but promise not to punch me, alright? I saw the nasty bruise you did on my co-worker's face and I don't want that. It won't look good on me, don't you think?"

They kept that playful manner of talking, their chair kept close to yours as both of your knees were almost brushing. You're in a position where Hange almost fills your vision. They were so close that you only had to lean a few inches to bite their ear off. You don't know whether this one is careless or crazy but you suspect the latter to be more true.

"I think you'll look even more handsome with your head bashed in," you smiled, trying to unnerve them by giving them the same flirty treatment. But they only replied with a laugh.

"Oh, come on. Don't get kinky with me just yet," they smirked at you, a hand now firmly around your freed wrist. They focused their attention on the irregular scabs, protruding at the surface of your skin. They eyed it like a creature fresh out of water, gently running a slender finger over them, prodding, and poking a nail to the rim of each scab glued to your skin. You winced and slightly shuddered at the touch to which Hange responded by retracting their finger abruptly.

"Hurts?" They had to ask despite knowing you wouldn't respond properly. Hange was still amused by how hard it was to gain even a bit of your trust. If anything, it made you even more fascinating in their eyes.

"Let me see what I can do for you," Hange stood up and walked over to a drawer. They lifted a few things, and eventually retrieved a small bottle of healing cream fitted perfectly on their palm. They popped the lid open and applied an ample amount on their fingers.

They kneeled beside you once again and said, "Don't worry, it'll soothe the pain. This will soften the scabs so you can gently peel them off in the morning."

They spread the cool cream over the scabs, careful not to scratch the surface. Your eyes couldn't help but stare at how soft their face looked despite their sharp, handsome features. They looked even more captivating up close. Hange turned their head and looked at you this time, maybe waiting for a reaction or a query.

You furrowed your eyebrows at their action, averting your eyes before saying "Why are you staring at me like a creep?"

"Hm, look who's talking. You're the one staring first," Hange brought their lips near your ear. "You think I didn't catch you, sweetheart?"

"Don't mind me planning how to kill you," you retorted, trying to save yourself from being confronted with something else. And it wasn't helping that your voice broke, and weakened, submitting to their flirty attitude. Hange smiled to themself as they caught this.

The tension between you thickened, so much that it could be pierced if Hange even brushed their hand against you. You cursed under your breath as your heart raced, thumping out of your chest in the most unlikely manner unfit for your situation. Hange kept the look of amusement on their face, gaze lowering to your lip. It frustrates you as your mind debates whether you want to violently bite their lip off, or kiss them.

"You're quite a fascinating one, you know," Hange spoke, the low tone of their voice suggested something else rather than fascination. Their hand lightly ran on the expanse of your back.

"And you're a weird one," you whispered, gulping down the arousal thickening in your throat.

Hange chuckled, a hand brushing the hair out of your face. "I bet you get off on that, right? It must be the crazy ones that do it for you."

"Shut up."

---

You heard the gentle whirring of a fan as you woke up from the couch. Hange's lab coat buttoned on your body enough to prevent your breasts from spilling out. They sat beside you, drinking cold beer as they read several reports. However, their eyes brightened as they caught you awake. They offered you a drink, the beer can cold against your cheek as you pouted slightly at them.

"I can't believe I slept with you," you muttered, popping the can open with a fizz before bringing it to your lips.

"You're saying that when you're the one half-naked on my couch," Hange smirked, rising to the couch so they could sit beside you. An arm wrapped around your waist, their other holding their clipboard as they said, "Interesting observation from you. You have a lot of stamina. Very suitable for the Female Titan."

"Oh, god. Shut up," you turned your head away as you drank, knowing very well where they derived that observation. You tried to trace back how the hell your clothes were tossed aside in that lab. To start it out, they trusted you enough to free your wrists and feet. One moment they were telling you about titans and titan shifters, and the next how beautiful your eyes would look in natural light. They still want to talk about bipedal animals related to titan behavior but your lips had already crashed against theirs, with much intensity that brought the two of you collapsing on the couch. It was safe to say that it was your fault that the shirt they were wearing was missing at least three buttons. Hange poked at the lovely blush creeping on your cheek as you tried your hardest to not get flustered.

"Hah, you're blushing. Cute," Hange chuckled. Their eyes softened once again as they gently tilted your head towards them. "Hey, listen to me... How about we make a deal?"

They turned you in a way that you were listening to them. They pushed up their glasses, easily fixing the brown locks of hair you were tugging on earlier so nothing got on their face as they spoke to you.

"You'll give me your cooperation, and I'll provide you safety. None of those Marleyan scientists will get their hands on you," Hange began, their body almost pressing against yours from how close they were sitting. "Don't worry, you'll just have to sit pretty and follow my methods. I'll be the only one to handle you."

Your eyes searched for the glint of dishonesty, or some form of mischievous deceit in their eyes but found none. No matter how much you convinced yourself that they were lying, every part of you denounced it.

"I hope you're ready since it will just be you and me until the experimentation ends," they said finally smiling to themselves. They sipped on their drink, waiting for you to speak.

Trust is the beginning of a soldier's downfall. You knew that. It was drilled in your mind, every day for half of your life. You're supposed to thrive off deception, of the manipulation of your enemies, and this one right here in front of you was no exception. Doesn't matter if they sounded so genuine or if they were fucking you half an hour ago. However, your resolve blurs when you look at them, your concept of what is right or wrong coalesces with what you need and desire.

You just remained silent, setting down your drink before climbing on their lap much to their surprise.

"I'm not answering any of that right now. Bear the mystery. Play with fire. That's what you like after all, Hange..." you whispered into their ear, your answer playing safe in case anything else may occur between you.

Your answer only made Hange's heart thump, you can almost feel how it raced when pressed against your bare chest. Hange circled their hands around your waist once again, pulling you more into their lap.

Their lips brushed against your neck as they said, "Fine by me. I bet this would make things a lot more interesting, don't you think?"

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

#hange zoë #hanji zoë #hange zoe #hanji zoe #hange zoe x reader #hanji zoe x reader #hange zoe x you #hanji zoe x you #hange zoe x y/n #hanji zoe x y/n #hange zoe smut #hanji zoe smut #hange x reader #hanji x reader #hange x y/n #hanji x y/n #hange x you #hanji x you #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot x female reader #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #✂ rem writes____✍︎

[delopsia]

Reeth | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 10,000   Cross Posted on AO3 Brief Summary: Between his injuries and his insecurities, Rhett nearly falls apart. But you're there to put him back together again. Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, hurt/comfort (physically and emotionally), bodily injury, blood, brief mentions of violence and attempted murder, crying, brief appearance of food, Rhett's self-doubts and insecurities, rodeos, body worship & praise, I love you's, riding, overstimulation, happy ending. Inspired from the song Reeth by Penny and Sparrow.  

There's something thumping.

A dull, insistent tap, tap, tap that seems to stop when you lift your head but restarts when your head reunites with the cool material of your pillow. Mayhaps the antics of a ghost you're not yet aware of in this big old rental home. Or maybe it's the antics of the boy down the road, who thinks ding-dong ditching is practical in a town where the men are trigger-happy, the land is flat, and driveways are a mile long at the bare minimum. 

Or maybe it's your elderly neighbor pleading for help because her husband fell again. 

Thunder rumbles, icy drops of rain pattering like a symphony against your metal roof. If it's not a tree limb, and someone is truly out the door, then something must be wrong. Lightning bathes your bedroom in a brief flash of white, and the longer you wait for the following boom of thunder, the thinner the air seems to become. Shit.

The last thing you feel like doing is crawling out of bed; you've only just begun to fall asleep, but alas, your feet hit the cold hardwood anyway. Sleepily padding down the hallway, past the kitchen, and toward the front door, where the knocking seems to have stopped once more. The house is silent as you peek out your window, fighting to get a glimpse of who may be at your door. The porch is empty, devoid of anything but leaves blown up against the house. 

But there's movement down your cracked sidewalk. A tall figure stumbling away from your door. 

Icy wind blasts the door open, ripping the handle from your hand as it rushes past. Strong enough to knock over picture frames and the knick-knacks from the table by the door, but you hardly notice it. "Rhett?"

That has to be him because he slows to a halt. It's dark, but it's hard to miss the way he minds his left foot as he turns. That's him, that's him, and you're trying to come to him, but you can't move. Feet frozen to the wet concrete of your porch step. 

Even the downpour cannot wash the blood from his face. Dripping from the bridge of his nose. A gash in his left cheekbone. And from somewhere up in his hairline, streaking down his forehead. He opens his mouth, but the only thing to come out is crimson liquid. Pouring down his chin. Staining his flannel. 

The sound of your name cuts through the air. Garbled by blood that he can't swallow down. Drowned out by the rain. And the wind that rustles through trees. And the thunder that rattles the ground. 

 He's speaking again, but you don't understand him. Tripping over his own feet. Reaching out for you. Like you're just out of his reach. A sob pierces through the air because his arms come up empty. Mutters it again. 

"Help."

His knees crumble out from under him.

And he drops. 

You can't move quickly enough.

Running out into the pouring rain. Uncaring of how the freezing rain feels like tiny bullets upon your skin. Can't hear the slam of thunder because it's washed out by the wail of a cowboy. 

A cowboy who can't lift himself up as he reaches for you. Whimpers your name when you drop into the grass and pull him up into your arms. His head heavy against your chest. Trembling with such a force that you shake with him. Those once strong arms wind around you. Dangling loosely. Not strong enough to do anything more. 

The dull glow of your porch light illuminates more than you can bear to witness. 

Bruises mottle his cheek, knuckle shaped and leading up to a deep, blackened bruise in the corner of his left eye. So close, it's easy to catch onto the split in his scalp, sliced open by something sharper than human nails. Reaches down to his left ear, takes a small divot out of the shell of it. There's a matching one on his forearm, scrawling up through his beloved bull-skull tattoo, and that's only what you can see at a glance. 

"Baby," whispering into his uninjured ear, cradling him to your chest, "what happened?" 

Lightning flickers; no sound to it, but he flinches into you anyway, shudders worse than the leaves in the trees as the autumn wind howls past. "It's my fault," his voice cracking, unable to hold together. "t's my fault...I started it." 

In the back of your head, you can still hear yourself asking him to keep out of trouble; a bar fight a month doesn't sound like a lot until you're the one patching him up. You can't even begin to count the number of times you've been witness to the aftermath of what cheap beer and a small disagreement can lead to.  "Rhett..." it slips out on its own. 

"I'll be good!" He hiccups, "I'll—I'll be good! I'm sorry!" Choking on tears and blood and rain that you can't wipe away quickly enough. Still tries to talk as he coughs, beginnings of more I'm sorry's that never fully leave his frantic tongue. 

His arms squeeze tighter. Yet they're still a shadow of their usual strength as he squirms closer. "Please don't...please don't leave me out..." stammering, can hardly get his head up against your chest like he's trying so hard to do. "Please don't...don't..."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," and you're shushing him, soothing your hands over his messy face, and his head is heavy as he leans into it like he can't keep his own head up without help. "Rhett, look at me, breathe." 

"Don't—don't leave..." sucking in harsh breaths he can't catch, mouth moving, but not a thing coming out.  

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," you're whispering, and for a second, you think the storm has calmed just long enough for him to hear your words. Frigid rain has long since soaked through your clothes, and you need to go inside, but all you can think about is pulling this trembling cowboy closer. 

"I've got you. I promise," cooing into his ear, stroking the back of his head. "You're alright; I've got you." His cold nose finally finds its way into the crook of your neck, and you don't care if the blood stains your shirt or not. 

The wind screams past your head, feels like it'll rip the clothes right off your body. Tiny pellets of hail strike at your skin, and you think they might just pierce through you. "Let's get you inside, alright?" 

You're surprised that he's got the strength to nod, never mind get back up to his feet. A heavy weight against you, his arm slung over your shoulders because he can't support much weight on his left foot. This screeching wind has the pair of you teetering from side to side, and his foot catches on the first stair of your small porch. 

And this part is easy; he knows this routine too well. Stumbling down your short hallway and into the bathroom, damn near collapsing onto the floor when you reach down to turn on the water to the bathtub. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Asking as you help him unbutton his shirt, revealing a myriad of deep red and purple marks that will surely worsen come morning. The handiwork of angry fists and the sharp edge of a steel-toe boot kicking at his ribs while he was down. 

"Perry..." he starts; those eyes flutter, and just like that, he stops. Like he's still recollecting the rest of the story. 

Well, that explains it.

Bar fights are almost always broken up before they can do damage such as this, and you've almost always had to come down to the police station to release him of Sherrif Joy's care. And even though you've seen firsthand how the Tillerson brothers are always looking for a fight with their neighbors, they know when enough is enough. 

Luke and Rhett have been at each other's throats for years, but Luke doesn't kick a man while he's down. Where's the fun in an opponent who doesn't fight back? 

Rhett's nemesis of a neighbor has more respect for him than his own brother.

The worst part is getting Rhett's legs over the edge of your clawfoot bath, and you're thankful that you've already seen the worst of his injuries because you don't think you can bear seeing another open wound. 

"Was he drunk?" Only asking indirect questions as you rub this soapy cloth across his cheek. Washing away the dirt and blood that's caked to his skin until you can see his pretty face once more. 

"He flew off the handle at mom," he sniffles, reaching up to rub a drop of water from his nose, "'n my smartass decided that was a good time to say that his temper is why Rebecca ran." 

You hate the way that he whimpers when you have to wash the blood from his scalp. Clean water stinging at somewhat-open wounds, only further upset when you carefully scrub dried blood from his hair. The sight of these cuts makes your stomach twist sourly, but they're closing without assistance; no need for DIY stitches or a two-hour hospital trip. Not yet, at least. 

"I think...he," Rhett's eyes flicker up to yours, swollen and red; if he had any tears left, they'd be streaking down his cheeks by now, "he tried to...he tried to kill me."

"And your parents didn't..." you're trying to find what to say, scrambling for thought; what do you say? "They didn't stop him?"

His response takes a while to come. 

Silent as you dry him with a towel and help him step into some clothes he's left in case of unplanned sleepovers. Doesn't find what to say as you apply ointment to his wounds and wrap his sliced forearm. His eyes speak a million and one words, but they don't string together into full sentences. A hurt that doesn't restrict itself to physical pain alone. 

"Want some ice cream?" You chirp, holding his hand as he gingerly sinks onto your couch.

Those saddened eyes light up like little blue fireworks, knows that you've still got a pint of his favorite in the freezer. Chocolate chip cookie dough. His head bobs with a nod, a small, "please," falling off his bitten tongue. 

You'll forever take pride in being the one to introduce him to this flavor. Originally, you'd only done it to keep him from nibbling on your baking endeavors before they even touched the oven. Now, you keep it around just to see him brighten up after a long day. 

Who would have thought that they make ice cream flavors that are not Royal's beloved vanilla bean? 

But his hands are trembling far too hard. Spoon tumbling out of his flimsy grip and falling into his lap before he can even scoop any ice cream onto it. His frown deepens. Tries again, reaching for the spoon, but he can't seem to pick it up. Fingers poking and prodding, trying to pick up something that they simply cannot grasp. 

"Here," picking up that evasive spoon, "let me help you."

There's that smile. 

Sheepish, the tips of his ears burning with red, wobbling lips parting, wrapping around the spoon. Doesn't seem to know what to do with himself as you settle down next to him and spoon-feed him his ice cream. 

Especially doesn't know what to do when the bowl is empty, and he impulsively sputters a quiet, "More?" Soft-spoken and shy, afraid to ask for such a thing. 

You leave him with a kiss on his frozen lips and return with the whole damn container. And so what if you let him eat over half of the ice cream that you just bought yesterday? You don't even care that there are tornado sirens blaring outside your home or that Rhett wants to give you sticky kisses that you can feel lingering on your face. 

The storm worsens after his head settles against your chest, listening to the thump of your heartbeat. Your arms have long since wrapped around him, cradling that big, strong body of his and humming when a sniffle wracks through him. The wind howls as loud as she can; you simply turn up the volume to the television. 

It's been nearly two hours when Rhett finally responds to your question. And you've nearly forgotten that you even asked if his parents stopped Perry or not.

"Ma jumped in when Perry got ahold of the kitchen knife," he mutters, his eyes fixated on the movie playing on the screen, "Dad got me by my collar 'n hauled me out back."

Your thumb soothes across the short stubble of his jaw, freshly shaved this morning and already growing back in. Just as stubborn as he is. 

He's quiet again, but only for a moment, "He threw me my keys 'n locked me out." 

"But they didn't lock Perry out?" You already know the answer to your question; not surprised in the slightest when Rhett rumbles a small 'no.' 

You hate to imagine what would happen to him if you weren't around to patch him back up. 

It's hard remembering just how you got into bed. 

Regardless of how and when it happened, you find yourself waking up late into the morning. Cozied up in a big, warm bed with a soft cowboy snuggled into the space beneath your chin, little wisps of his hair tickling your skin. 

It's almost strange to wake up and find him still in bed. On most days, he's off to the ranch before dawn, busting his ass for a full hour before the rest of the family arrives to pick up where they left off. But you suppose being locked out of your own home warrants a day or two of skipping work. 

Your lips press to his forehead, and faintly, you can feel him smile into the crook of your neck.

"Mornin," he murmurs, voice gravelly with sleep, vibrating against your neck. Tilts his head back just far enough to take a look at you, eyes barely open. "'m sorry for showin' up in the middle of the night," pauses to kiss your wrist as you reach to tuck his hair behind his ear, smiling weakly, just for a moment, "I shouldn't 've woken you up." 

"You're allowed to come to me when you're hurt, Rhett," tilting his head up to meet your eye as you speak, "You'd do the same for me if I was in that situation."

He's quiet at that. 

And you're not sure who it was that taught him he's not worthy of being cared for when he's hurt, but you hope they forever regret it. You can't stand the way he frowns and snuggles back into you, doesn't quite believe your words because someone has been telling him otherwise for his entire life. 

It could be the fault of his father, who has gone as far as to teach him that boys don't have birthdays and that they should never cry in front of another person. Maybe it's the fault of his mother for standing by and never stepping in, even when she knew better. Hell, maybe it's the fault of his brother, who blames everyone but himself for his temper. 

Rhett should be laying in bed, letting himself heal and taking it easy on himself, but he follows you out of bed, lingers in the kitchen while you cook, and tries to help where he can. Stretches his weary limbs after breakfast, pushing through a pain so severe that his eyes water as he raises his arms above his head. 

"Are you really sure about riding tonight?" You find yourself asking, running a comb through his hair all the while. He's not particularly happy about it, but he's got some knots in the longer parts, and he's never been one to complain about his hair being played with. Forced scowl melting into upturned lips and smiling eyes.

"I ain't hurt that bad," he says, and you're sure that he believes that to be true, too. Stubborn to the end, this one. 

Your nails rake down the back of his neck, tracing down the soft bumps of his spine, just to watch his back arch into your touch, flinching when he shifts his ribs too much. "You can hardly walk straight, baby."

"'m fine," he meets your eye through the reflection of the mirror, confident as he pushes his poorly forged narrative, "'ve ridden through worse."

Maybe, but most of those 'ridden through worse' times have been fueled by the elusive gift of adrenaline, biting away the pain until the moment the stadium lights shut off for the night. These injuries have had time for the hurt to set in and for sore muscles to tighten.

But you can't say you're surprised when Rhett digs out his gear and, admittedly, slowly gets ready for tonight. He can hardly button his flannel, never mind wriggling into his slightly too-tight jeans and fumbling with his chaps until you take pity on him and help him out. Sliding the thick material up his thighs and giving his ass a playful little squeeze when you're done, all to see him jump. 

"You leave my ass alone!" He squeaks, swatting your offending hand away. 

All you can do is wink; you've already won. "Too late, cowboy." And his pale cheeks are blazing with crimson. For a minute there, he's got you near convinced that he is feeling better. 

Until you catch his facade slipping.

He limps to his truck, parked precariously in your driveway, crawls into the driver's side with all the speed and ease of a ninety-year-old man, his face twisting as he upsets just about every injury he's got. 

"'m fine," he insists as you settle into the passenger seat. 

"'m fine," he says when he puts too much weight on his left foot and gasps at the sudden bite of pain. 

"'m fine," he promises right before he steals his good-luck kiss from your lips and hobbles off to join his buddies before they finish their warmups without him. 

You expect to find Cecelia, Amy, and Royal up in the bleachers, in their spot tucked off into the far corner. They always sit in the same space, where it's easy to hop down and beat the rush of the crowd when the rodeo comes to a close. But they're not there. An empty gap that never fills. 

At least, it doesn't fill until you catch the familiar, warm eyes of deputy sheriff Joy, her wife, and daughter in tow. "Now, this may be a dumb question because I know who usually sits here with you," she pauses, glancing around the stadium once more. Packed to the brim. Not another space to be seen. "But is the space next to you taken?"

"It's all yours," sliding over to make space for them, "I don't think they'll be coming tonight."

Joy and her wife have been nothing but kind to you ever since you stumbled into this hidden town way back when. And maybe that's why, when she asks about where the rest of the Abbotts are, you tell her. Recounting your memory starting from when you awoke last night, not missing a detail.

You only pause to watch as Rhett comes bursting out of the chute. 

His body twisting, right hand held high as he hangs tight. But this bull is mean. Knocks him around like he weighs nothing. Kicking up plumes of red dirt. Never has more than two feet on the ground at a time. Almost smacks Rhett in the face with his horns. Yet, your cowboy manages to stay on until the buzzer sounds. Diving into the dirt in the same, not-so-graceful fashion as his usual.

One good ride. Two more to go. 

"This ain't somethin' I'm supposed to go repeatin'," Joy begins, not a moment after Rhett's disappeared from sight, "but I have good reason to tell you that if nobody stepped in to stop Perry last night, Rhett wouldn't have even made it to his truck." 

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. But nothing comes out. 

She seems to think for a moment, carefully analyzing her words before they ever leave her mouth. "It's cruel to say, but Rhett's safer if he's not in that house."

You hate that she has a point. You're no stranger to Perry and his temper, either.

And then Rhett's up again, firing out of the chute for a second time. His right hand once again held high to the sky as that bull drops into a spiral. Kicking, twisting, and Rhett's glued to this bull's back. 

Until he's not.

The bull makes a sudden twist to the left. And Rhett's falling. Sideways. No time to react. Left shoulder crashing into the cold, hard ground. Tumbling. 

But the bull is still bucking. Spiraling, trying to get that flank strap off. Uncaring as he all but jumps over Rhett's body. Misses him completely. Hooves mere inches away from his face as it turns a sharp left again. 

Heavy hooves dig into Rhett's stomach. 

Once. 

Twice. 

Darting away just as quickly, still bucking as those bullfighters step in. Urging him away.

Rhett's not getting up. 

But he's coiled in on himself. A minuscule ball that doesn't budge until one of the bullfighters rushes in. Yanks him up from the ground and hauls him toward an open chute. Rhett's feet are moving, but they're slow. Struggling to keep up as he's all but drug across the dirt. 

"They won't stop you from seeing him if I go with you," Joy's already ripping you from your stupor, taking you by the hand. "Come on." 

You have no memory of standing up, nor do you recall anything on the way down the stairs. The flickering of the scoreboard briefly steals your attention; Rhett's name no longer occupies the number two slot, but you can't look to find where he's dropped down to. Your ears ring, muffling the chaotic chatter of the rodeo grounds into near silence. 

Joy's leading you somewhere you've never been before; past security, through staff-only gates, and around sharp corners that never seem to end. Places you can't hope to memorize as she hauls you down toward a collection of familiar faces. Rodeo friends that Rhett's introduced you to in the past; you don't recall their names. Nor do you hear their voices as they point you toward where he's at. 

The ringing fades within an instant. 

"He took off on us," one of them is saying, and he's looking dead at you like you can do something about this, "talk him out of riding again, would you?" 

It's not hard to find Rhett. The riders all point you down past the bull chutes, a one-way path that leads directly into the tree line. He's curled himself beneath the thick trunk of an old oak, trembling hand wrapped around an empty can of Rainier Beer.

He hates Rainier. 

"Hey, cowboy," he jolts at the sound of your voice, surprised features instantaneously wrinkling into something pained, jaw clenched, grunting as his injuries bite at his nerves with razor-sharp teeth. 

"You shouldn't..." his voice fades, chest heaving, "shouldn't be back here." 

That rough 'n tough front dissolves the moment you settle next to him. He's muttering to himself, unable to keep upright as he all but collapses into your chest, right arm coiling around you, the left one dangling at his side, limp as can be. 

"I'm the biggest fuck up out here," he sputters, weak against your neck.

"That's not true," you're carefully wrapping your arms around him, hand tangling into his hair as you hold him to you; it's last night all over again, only this time, he wails. A noise that bursts past his lips, wetness forming at your shoulder, and he's shaking and muttering something you can't understand, and there's blood seeping through his shirt and, and— 

"That's not true at all," repeating yourself, murmuring into his ear, stroking the back of his head. Can't reach any further, not with that heavy vest in the way. "Look how far you've come; you're in the finals, Rhett. That means something." 

Two of his buddies are coming around the corner, and you don't need to know their names to know what they're doing back here. 

"Don't touch me," Rhett's snarling like a cornered animal, but they're unphased. A silent team as one grabs him by his collar, pulls him back, and the other gets ahold of his dislocated arm. "Don't! I'm fine! Don't, don't, don't—!"

Crackles soar past your ears. Bones popping back into place. Loud.

But not as loud as the ear-piercing cry that tears through the air. Raw. Torn. The kind of sound that hurts you to see more than it does to hear.

And Rhett's crumbling back into your arms, tears streaming down his cheeks like waterfalls, sobbing into your chest. As broken as the bones in his body. His shoulders tremble as he cries out again, pawing at your sides. Can't lift his arms to hang onto you.

"It's okay, it's okay," you don't know if those words are meant for him or for yourself. You've barely got the strength to wave his buddies on; you've got him, you'll look after him from here. 

His voice is caught in his quivering throat. Choked off noises that barely form words. "You...shouldn't," shaking his head against you, over and over, "shouldn't be dealin' with this."

Something in your gut twists at that. "Rhett..." 

"Look out there! My own fuckin' family ain't—ain't here for a reason," he blurts, and he's trying to look up and meet your eye, but he can't lift his own head. Too heavy for his beaten body to carry.

A choked sob rattles past his lips, "How are you meant to feel safe when I can't even hold my own in a fight I started?" He's reeling back, grimacing, clutching at his lower belly. Still has hoof-shaped prints of dirt on his clothes. 

"All I do is worry you 'n put you through hell," and you hate how Rhett can say these things so easily. Weakly voicing thoughts that have probably been running through his head for months. Years, even. 

His bloodshot eyes burst open as your shaky hands rise to cradle his cheeks. Thumbs stroking away dirt, sweat, and tears to find the remarkably soft skin beneath. Always so soft. Even with all that scruff on his jaw. 

There's blood in his smile, wobbly, but there, some involuntary thing that always happens when you tuck his hair back behind his ear. You're leaning in, ignoring the dirt and grime as you meet those quivering lips with your own. Nothing but a soft lock that you can only hope gets him to hear what you're trying to say. 

"You deserve someone...someone who can give you better than...this," he's talking softly, voice hitching around a sudden gasp for air, "Look at me... 'm a broken piece of trash, most days." 

With a shuddered breath, you begin to speak, "Do you think that I kiss you because of what you give to me?" ignoring the bits of rock that dig into your knees as you bear your weight on them, attention laced solely on this cowboy of yours. The one you've always known would break, eventually, because he's not his father. Never has been, no matter how much he tries to force it. 

His head doesn't nod, but you can see the burning 'yes' in his eyes. Once so vibrantly blue, now a muted hue.

"Well, it goes to show that you're not listening when I say that I know what I deserve," your forehead comes to rest against his, peering into those eyes that you can still become lost in, even all these years later, "And you're not listening when I tell you that you are worth more than you've ever realized."

And he's searching.

Never has been good at words, but he's stellar at finding even a single wrinkle of doubt in a face. Puffy eyes flickering across your features, to your nose, cheeks, chin, lips, but they freeze when they meet your gaze. A puff of breath escapes him. Eyes flickering closed as he leans into you.

He's looked for doubt. Denial. A scent of a lie. 

He hasn't found it. 

"It hurts," whispering, barely audible over the roar of the crowd, as a buzzer sounds. 

"I know," whispering in return, and you think your voice might have cracked. 

"But I need to..." his head twists to look back at the stadium, flinching as he tries to look over his swollen shoulder, "I need to do this. It's...it's my last..."

A part of you already knew he was going to lead back around to that. "You're sure?" 

With a deep breath, he smiles. Something familiar flickering back to life within him. And that's all that needs to be said. 

When you'd stumbled over here, unable to keep in tune with Joy's valiant step, you'd thought it was the physical pain that had brought Rhett to his knees. Body beaten and abused beyond its breaking point, taking him down and swallowing him up in a pit of metaphorical flames.

But as you leave him with a gentle squeeze of the hand. And you listen to him argue with his buddies on your walk to rejoin Joy; you can't help but realize that sometimes, it's the internal wounds that hurt the most. 

Because, would you know it, Rhett Abbott rides like he's never been hurt at all. 

His right hand held high as that raging bull bucks and twists beneath him. Hundreds of pounds of muscle fighting to get him off. Turning with every buck. Never has more than two hooves on the ground at once. 

Two decades ago, Royal Abbott took the Amelia County Rodeo by storm. Won four back-to-back seasons before he suffered a concussion so severe his wife served him an ultimatum. Quit riding or divorce. Rhett's got all but one of those season wins recorded on an old VHS tape. He's played it a million times, the excited giggles of his five-year-old self blaring through the speakers, shaky, unclear footage barely depicting a thing as Royal reclaimed his rodeo crown over and over again.

But out of all those tapes, of all those wins, the crowd never roared as loud as they do when Rhett's name soars back to first place. 

"Down, boy!" 

But your squeals are no use; Rhett's already drug you down, your bodies bouncing painfully against the mattress. His elbow digging into your side. You think your knee smacked into his tailbone. Limbs hopelessly tangling. His hair somehow in your mouth. And he's grunting because his belly is still sore, but he's too stubborn to acknowledge it.

"What did the doctor just say, huh?" You're trying not to giggle, but it's bubbling out of you anyway.

"Dunno, two hours ago is a long time," he deadpans, refusing to move off of you. At least, not until you start reaching for one of the throw pillows. "Sorry! Sorry!" Squirming, rolling off of you and onto the mattress, where he belongs. "Just tryin' to make the most of these painkillers."

Looking at him now and thinking back on the events of earlier, it's hard to believe that all this has happened within the same night. Normalcy shouldn't have come this quickly. This easily. Even so, it's fleeting; the moment this medicine wears off, Rhett's going to be a lump on the couch for the next week, at the least. 

But right now, he's nuzzling his cold nose into your cheek, red and freshly bitten by the chilly autumn wind. Smiling as you look over to him, smiles as he realizes that you've caught on to what he's asking for.

If it were any other day, you'd tease him, make him voice exactly what he wants, and play coy when he isn't specific enough. But you've pushed him enough by taking his keys and driving him to the hospital, and that little impatient grunt of his is so damn hard to resist. 

Rhett hums. Leans into your kiss with all the grace of a fat cat in the sun, rolling lazily into you, his hand skittering up your side. In no hurry to explore each other, the sugary taste of cola still fresh on his tongue, meeting your own in fleeting, shy touches. You wonder if he can taste the same on your own, the evidence of a stolen sip while he wasn't looking.

His body shudders with a shiver that runs through him from head to toe. Squirming even closer to you—

"Fuck," his eyes screw shut as he clutches at his lower belly, hissing. 

"You alright?" He's nodding before you've even finished your question, doesn't open his eyes. You're not sure that you entirely believe him. "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this yet."

Images flicker behind your eyelids. Memories. The heavy hooves of a bull that damn near ripped him apart. The rippling crack of a shoulder put back into place, and the earth-shattering cry that followed.

Oh, but why do Rhett's eyes have to sadden like that? Gaze dropping to the comforter, afraid to look at you, like a kid who's just been scolded, "But..." 

"Rhett, look at you. You're hurt." you're curling your hand around his cheek, stroking the thin skin beneath his eye, still a touch swollen from crying, "It's a wonder that you're even walking after tonight." 

"It doesn't hurt that bad, I promise it, it—" stumbling over his words, "It doesn't...it doesn't hurt."

"I know, I know," you're trying to shush him, but he's still muttering under his breath. False promises that neither of you believes, "but you're hurt. Look at your poor stomach, Rhett." 

Your hand wanders to the lower hem of his shirt, gently tugging it up to reveal the abused skin beneath. Once milky white, now a horrific mottling of dark yellows, blues, and purples. That protective vest bore the brunt of most of it, but gear can only do so much. 

Rhett's shaking hands reach for yours, pushing them away, "I can...keep my clothes on?"  Already beginning to tug his shirt back down, concealing those bruises once more, "You don't have to...you don't have to see..."

"Baby..."  is that what this is about? What his body looks like? "That's not..."

You don't know how to finish your sentence.

Rhett's never been good with words. Might not fully understand, even if you handcraft a poem on the spot meant just for him. But maybe, he'll hear you if you voice your thoughts with more than just words...

The mattress squeaks as you begin to move, gingerly swinging your leg over to straddle his thighs. Not sure if his beaten hips can handle any pressure on them, as you lean forward to press your lips to his clothed chest. Working your way up to his open mouth.

"I know you're not fond of them, but I love these lips of yours," you only allow him one kiss because he'll shut you up if you allow him anything more. "And I love seeing them swell after I've given you too many kisses."

Oh, and it's hard to miss those eyes, the way they widen a little, catching onto what you're doing. "And I love these eyes of yours, how they can go from bright blue to nearly black with the simplest change in lighting," his gaze darts away, shy, "you don't speak a lot, but your eyes are always talking. "

Your fingertip runs across his bottom lip, watching how his tongue daringly darts out to lick the pad of it. Leaves a thin, glistening trail as you trace toward his lower jaw, stroking past three-day-old scruff to find the pale white line of a scar, courtesy of a bar fight. "And this old scar, from when we first met..." pausing to stroke down his neck, finding a matching mark beneath his chin, "this one, too..."

"I have a scar there?" He's reaching up, rubbing where your finger rests.

Humming, you press a kiss to each minuscule mark, fingers running along the sides of his neck as you work your way to the soft space beneath his ear. "And the noise you make when I suck on the skin here," pressing your lips there, pleased to hear that involuntary gasp as you apply a little suction, "is worth its weight in gold."

"You don't...you don't have to do this..." his voice vibrates against your mouth, some deep rumbling that could put you to sleep on the spot. 

"I know," beginning to work your way down now, popping open the buttons of this soft, pearl-snap flannel that he loves so much, "but I want to."

The final button comes loose, breaking away to expose his wonderfully pale chest, remarkably soft for a cowboy. Skin like silk beneath your palms, roaming over the broad expanse of him. Thumbs drifting overtop sensitive, dusky pink nipples on their way to trace up his ticklish sides. He's too sore for his back to arch off the back, but oh, does he try. 

"And this scar, too..." pressing kisses to the prominent, raised skin near the meet of his left shoulder, beneath his collarbone, "I wasn't there to see it, but you've told me the story so many times that I feel like I was."

Now you're working across, tongue trailing until you can lave over the black ink that occupies the right side of his chest. "And this tattoo you got when you were sixteen, using the fake ID that you still carry in your wallet," the lines are no longer crisp, but you wouldn't have it any other way, "You tell me you hate it, but it just goes to show how dedicated you can be when your heart is in it." 

Rhett's breathing shifts, deepening as you work lower; already knows where your mouth is going. 

"Then there are these cute little nipples," spiraling around the little nub with your tongue, right hand working his other one in perfect synchrony. Feeling them roll against your touch, drinking in the whimper that he can't swallow down. "Always so sensitive for me." 

Your assault only stops long enough for you to switch sides, working the right one with the same enthusiasm as the first. A simple thing that has Rhett bracing his hand on your bicep. Needs something to hang onto that isn't the comforter. 

When you pull away, inspecting your handiwork, you're more than pleased to find that pale pink has blossomed into bright red. Just as swollen and wet as his lips. 

Again, you're moving. Never in one place for too long, working your way down his bruised belly. Pressing feather-light kisses to each and every mark that mar his flesh; maybe if you pepper enough to them, they'll heal faster. All the while unclasping his buckle and tugging the zipper down. 

"Can you lift your hips for me?" Hooking your fingers into his waistband as you ask. 

His hips lift, shaky as you pull his jeans and boxers down all in one go; hardly has the strength to let you get the material past his ass. But then you're tugging it down his legs, and he's collapsing against the mattress with a pained grunt. Chest heaving with the effort. 

As soon as those jeans hit the floor, you're pressing your mouth to the inside of his ankle, overtop a darkened bruise; you're not sure how Perry gave him this, and you don't think you want the answer, either. 

Traveling up again, following the dots of four mosquito bites that trail up to his knee, licking the trail of a series of stretch marks that lead you all the way up to his inner thigh. These soft, plush thighs that so few have had the pleasure of seeing. 

"I love these thighs," your words muffled because you can't bring your mouth away from them for more than a second. "They fit so nicely in my hands, perfect to squeeze." He squirms as you suck darkened marks into that pale flesh, soothing them with your tongue. Working your way up to where his cock twitches against his lower belly, needy.

But you've got a few more pit stops to make first.

Namely, these hips. Boney and a little sharp. There's a bruise on his left one, not from Perry, not from the hooves of a bull, but from the edge of your kitchen counter. He's been smacking into it so long that it's become a customary thing. 

"And your hips," gripping them in your hands, feeling them writhe, because he'd rather your tongue trace away from his hip and closer to somewhere else. "I love getting to sneak up behind you and grab them, even when you roll your eyes like you are now."

Rhett freezes at that.

A creature of habit, he is.

"The dimples in your spine, right above your cute ass that you always struggle to get into your jeans," you can't pepper those spots with attention, not right now, but you'll get to another day. For now, you're very happy with tracing your nails up his thighs, watching him wriggle once more. "You're lucky I can't make you roll over, Abbott."

He's quiet as you move over to his arm, paying your attention to the thick muscle that you've drooled over more times than you can count, "I love your biceps, even if you think they're not as big as you want them to be."

"And I love your forearms, so strong, even when they don't need to be," It's trying to move, trying to stroke your shoulder, a little difficult for you to lower your head, but you make it work.  "And this tattoo you impulsively got three days before you met me." The wound there doesn't look as bad now that it's had a day to heal. A perfect slice through the ink that almost looks intentional.

But you're not done, "And these veins..." tongue poking past your lips once more, tracing over them, "so easy to trace and get you riled up."

His knuckles brush against your cheek, lightly stroking. The back of his hand right there for you to nip at, lazily soothing over with your mouth after. "I love these hands of yours, calloused and worn beyond their years," Don't care that you're getting a little carried away as you lick up his fingers.  "Tough enough to hold onto a bull, yet always so gentle when you touch me with them."

As you wonder about what part of him you should lavish with attention next, your eyes flick up.

Oh, that's not what you expected at all. 

His eyes glassy and wide, thin trails of tears shining on his cheeks, mouth opening and closing, wrapping around the shapes of words but unable to voice them. The same word over and over, so familiar...

"And you, Rhett," rising again as you speak, taking his wet cheeks into your hands, warm beneath your touch, "the sweetest cowboy I could have ever met, with the biggest heart I've ever seen." "There aren't enough words in the English language to depict just how much I love you." 

Your name tumbles out of him. Hardly a whisper, voice cracking, wavering. 

That's the only thing he can say as his arms wind around you and pull your body against his, burying his face within the crook of your shoulder. A sob rattles out of him, but it's different compared to the ones you've been hearing as of late. 

"I love you," he murmurs into your collar, vibrating up your neck, "I love you."

You only mean to shift your weight, unintentionally brushing your thigh between his legs and Rhett whines.

As he lays back against the mattress, and your noses press together, peering back into one another's eyes, you reach down. Finally, finally, wrapping your palm around his dripping cock. Hard as can be, the tip glistening in the light as you loosely stroke him. 

"Is that what you were wanting, cowboy?" Your answer comes in the form of him reaching toward the bedside table, getting ahold of the new bottle of lube sitting atop it. So new that you have to stop and remove the plastic from it before you can properly slick him up. 

His hips rise off the bed, needily chasing your touch, the sweet whimper in his throat dancing with the wet sounds of the lube. Always so responsive for you, and you've hardly done anything to him.

"Hah, that..." Rhett's eyes screw shut, head bobbing from side to side, as your thumb polishes over his head, working over the slit and all. "But...you." 

"You don't need to worry about me," on its own, your mind darts to what lurks in the box next to your bed. Plenty of things to play with. "I don't wanna hurt you, remember?"

Rhett's not having it. Bottom lip pouting. "But it feels better when I know you're feelin' good, too," His voice high, breathy, "Please?" 

He could sell you on a one-way ticket to the moon if he really wanted to. 

He must know he's convinced you, too, because he's already pulling your shirt over your head. Hands roaming up your sides, cupping your breasts in his big palms, still wet from your ventures with your tongue. Then go your pants, joining Rhett's on the floor with the quietest noise. 

"Now, what if I really do hurt you?" Your palm runs over his belly, watching how he tenses despite your feather-light touch. So, so sore. Bound to be worse in the morning.

His left-hand trembles as he drizzles lube onto his fingers; it should be resting in his sling like the doctor ordered, but between the walk from the truck to the house, he's wriggled out of it. "Ain't too worried 'bout that." 

"But—"

Wet fingers slip between your folds, lazily pausing to stroke your clit on their way to their destination. "If I can ride a bull, y'sure as hell can ride me." 

Stubborn to the damn end. 

And you want to complain. Never let him hear the end of how you don't want to hurt him. But two of those wicked fingers of his are pushing into you without the slightest warning, and your higher thinking vanishes within an instant. Stolen away by the drag of calloused fingertips, has you shuddering before they've even passed the second knuckle. 

A chuckle bubbles out of Rhett's chest, darkened eyes glinting; he knows what he's doing. Grinning to himself as he begins to those fingers of his in and out of you, eyelashes fluttering when you clench around them. 

Your attention darts to his neglected cock, laying haphazardly against his belly, precum spilling out of his tip like a leaky faucet. Perfect to reach for and torment, sliding your thumb over his cock head, spreading it around him. 

Rhett's hips jerk, a breath bursting out of him, "St—hah, stop that." 

One little touch, and he's twitching in your hand. It's only been a week since the last time. Is he that sensitive already?

Those fingers of his twist, cooking to drive against something that has your thighs quivering, letting go of his cock to brace yourself against the bed. Damn it, damn it, damn it. 

"Alright," reaching down, you take hold of his wrist and pull him out of you. Disappointed by the loss of his fingers, even though you know you'll get something better in just a moment. "But just remember, this was your idea." 

"I know it," Rhett's good hand rises to settle on your hip as you move to straddle him. Contentedly rubbing the skin there as you take hold of him once more, guiding his leaking tip between your folds. 

And who's to stop you from lazily rubbing him against your clit, gentle spirals that makes your fingertips tingle. It's hard telling if Rhett moans first or if it's you all along, gasping together like it's all you know how to do. 

"Fuck," muttering under his breath, peering up at you from beneath thick lashes. "That's...different..." 

Your hand twitches. Pulls him back far enough to catch on your entrance. Ends your fun too soon, but the delicious pressure of him against you is too good to miss. With a shaky breath, you sink down on him, eyes falling shut at the stretch of him. 

Rhett's panting like a dog beneath you, the hand on your hip growing loose as you slowly but surely take him. God, he's so thick, and it's not fair. Stretching you wide, his plush head dragging against the walls of your cunt. So hard to relax when he seems to fill you completely, bordering the line between a perfect fit and a little too much.

His hip bones press into your ass as you bottom out. Your chest heaving, heart pounding in your chest. Think you can feel him throbbing inside of you, subtle little pulses of his cock that make you jolt. 

"Are you alright?" You ask. Struggling to open your eyes.

Rhett's hand rises, smoothing up your waist and settling on your breast, pressing his palm against it. "Think I outta be askin' you that, darlin'." 

You're more than alright. 

Carefully, you lean forward, bracing one hand on the mattress, the other on his heaving chest, steering clear of his bruises. On its own, your thumb flicks over his nipple, gasping when he jolts up into you. 

"Y'gotta leave those alone," he fusses, but he doesn't stop you from craning your neck to suck on one of them. Worrying the hardening bud between your teeth, listening to him whine at the attention, only letting go once it's begun to swell once more. 

 Before he can open his mouth again, you begin to move. 

Raising yourself up, feeling him twitch inside of you, then sinking right back down. Starting shallow, for his sake more than your own. Breathing out a silent noise as you feel him move inside of you, thick length massaging against a particular bundle of nerves within you, without the slightest effort. 

"Fuck, fuck, you're tight," he whimpers, eyes barely open as he peers up at you, hair spread out beneath his head in a messy halo. "Baby, baby..."

"Is that what you were needing, cowboy?" Teasing, not bothering to fight the noises he's working out of you. Feeling those devilish hips swivel. The best he can do. 

And those lewd little noises are spilling out of him like a waterfall. Whimpers carried to your ears by his short, quickened breaths, "uhuh." 

Drawing yourself up quicker now, settling into a comfortable rhythm that lets you feel the drag of his cock head inside of your pussy. Filling you impossibly well, so deep that you're not sure how he fits. 

"Can feel you flutterin' round me," his voice gravelly, absolutely hypnotized by the way your body moves on top of him. Even that shaky left hand is rising, settling on your thigh, needs to feel your muscles flex with your motions. 

On your own, you clamp down around him; almost regret it because the noise he makes sends something stirring to life within you. Warm. Familiar.

"Again," Rhett babbles, head rolling side to side, "please—please, do that again."

 Your thighs are beginning to ache, forces your pace to fall into something shallower as you squeeze down around him once more. Oh, oh, oh, how he jerks up into you at that. Rips a surprised cry out of you as his hips come off the mattress, slamming into you.

"Fuck, Rhett," your eyes bursting open; don't remember closing them. 

"'M already close," his voice an octave higher, words punctuated by the smack of skin on skin. Biting on his lips, trying to swallow down those noises you're working out of him.

Your hand trembles as it rises to pull his lip free of his teeth, replacing it with your thumb. That short, hot tongue swirls around on it, lazily sucking on it, eyes falling shut. So, so focused. "You gonna cum for me, cowboy?" 

He can't speak, too busy with your finger, can only nod and hum. It's easy, pressing down on his tongue, pinning it down if only to feel it writhe. 

"Come on, sweet boy," you're cooing, urging him on, fighting to keep yourself going. He's already twitching in you. Little jerks of his cock that always bubble to the surface when he's close. "Cum." 

Those pretty blue eyes roll back into his head. And with the quitest sob, he cums. 

Muscles flexing as he jolts up into you, back arching despite it all, the hand on your thigh squeezing tight. A familiar heat fills you. Ropes of sticky, hot cum, pumping inside, already beginning to spill out as you ride him through it. Gradually slowing, pulling your thumb from his slackened mouth, watching him spin back down from the clouds. 

"Keep," he's interrupted by a desperate gasp for air. "Keep goin'."

Well, that's new. "Are you sure?" Because you can already feel him beginning to soften inside of you, spent. 

"Wanna feel you cum 'round me," pleading like his life depends on it, voice gone raspy, "Please, please, please."

Something about the way he says it stirs something to life within you. Ache in your thighs seeming to disappear as you begin to move once more, too distracted by the way he reaches down, pressing rough fingers to your sensitive clit. Regaining your rhythm once more, dizzied by the delicious thickness of him inside of you. Sickeningly loud squelch be damned.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," babbling under his breath, Rhett's fighting to keep his eyes open. Hungry gaze eating up the sight of you, using him for your own pleasure.

"Good boy," leaning back, savoring how he's twitching in your pussy, already beginning to harden once more, "hang on for me." 

And Rhett's shaking. His muscles tremoring as heat blooms between your legs, thumb struggling to spiral around your swollen clit, shaking too damn hard to stay steady. Downright vibrating. His thighs spasm beneath you, whimpering high in his throat, and he sounds so, so pretty like that. Looks it too.

Just the sight of him has you clenching around him like a vice, head beginning to spin. Rhythm faltering as you all but chase the heat starting to spread between your legs, spurred on by his trembling thumb and the drag of his plush head against the inside of you. Skin prickling. Close, close, close. 

His hips jolt up on their own. Once. Twice. And you're gone. 

A silent noise stumbling out of you as your eyes screw shut. Body freezing. Pulsing around him as your orgasm washes over you like a ton of bricks. Distantly aware that you're falling forward. Head coming to rest against his collar. Stars dancing beneath your eyelids. A dull tingling in your limbs. 

Rhett's hips jolt one more time. Short. Jerky. And you're distantly aware that he's cumming again. 

You wonder if this is how it feels to take a hard fall off a bull. A brief blankness in memory, followed by the slow opening of eyes. Barely able to recall where you are before the ache in your thighs comes knocking at the door. 

"Don't..." Rhett whispers, lips tickling your ear, "Don't move...just for a minute."

You're glad that he asked because you don't think you can move. "Can I convince you on a bath and a movie?" Because if you two stay on this bed for too long, you'll have to rewash this comforter. 

"Will you get in with me?" And if you thought his lips tickled, then his hot breath is a different monster entirely. 

"Of course, I will," pressing a kiss to his collar before finishing your sentence. "Whatever you want, cowboy." And it seems you may have left him a few hickeys because you don't recall him having bruises here. 

"Whatever I want?" And you can hear the cocky grin in his voice. 

God, why did you ever tell him that? "...that's what I said."

He seems to think for a minute. Looking for something that will truly test your resolve, simply to see if you're true to your word. "Then d'you think you can put that sling back on me after?" How dare he sound so shy, with his softening dick still in you. "Shits startin' to hurt." 

"Where did you put it?"

"I haven't the slightest clue."

How you wind up finding it hanging off the top of the refrigerator is anyone's guess.

Thunk.

"Shit!" Rhett's voice echoes from the kitchen; you don't need to think to know what just happened. "Fuck this fucking—I'm not gonna miss this damn counter!" 

The landlord is gonna shave some funds off your deposit for the dent your poor cowboy has put into that tabletop. That you know for sure.

"Consider it a parting gift," you chirp, scooping up the last of your boxes. Picture frames, delicately wrapped in old newspaper and towels. 

When you'd moved into this house, you had a grand total of ten boxes. Hardly anything to your name, other than essentials you'd scrapped up from yard sales and big box store sales. Just little old you in a big house that's seen more life than you could have ever hoped to live

But now, as you finally, finally move out of this century-old place, you've got more boxes than you can count. Cookware, throw pillows, knick-knacks brought to you by a cowboy who didn't know how to court you. Stacks of DVDs and CDs, a stuffed bull bought at a rodeo, plaid curtains and blankets, memories galore. 

Rhett's lingering by the door. Big hands reaching out to take the box from you; it's not heavy, but you've given up on bickering about who can carry what. 

His gaze is heavy, falling to focus on the box. Index finger tapping on the cardboard, in its own uneasy tune. 

"You alright?" You chirp, surprised by how your voice carries in this house now that it's completely empty.

His boot taps the ground. If you were outside, he'd be kicking the dirt. "Are you really sure you want a home with me in it?" 

The hardwood squeaks beneath your feet as you step forward, crouching to catch his eye. They lock with yours, following as you rise once more. "I can't imagine a house without you in it, cowboy," licking the pad of your thumb, wiping away a streak of dirt from his cheek. "Even if you do try to distract me with kisses, so you can steal cookie dough off the tray."

His gaze falls again. The tips of his ears go red, smiling to himself like it's your first date all over again. 

 Your hands squish his cheeks. They've gotten a touch thicker now that he's exchanged bull riding for lazy nights on the couch with you. And they're perfect. "What are you?" 

His eyelashes flutter. Mouth opening, then closing, only to open again. "Worth it." And then he's twisting his head to bite your thumb and darting out the open door. Tripping over his own feet as you come after him. Giggling, yelling his futile, I'm sorry's, despite provoking this all on his own.

Yeah, you're glad you picked this cowboy. 

#rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott outer range #outer range fic #outer range #outer range amazon #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #reader self insert #self insert #x reader #reader insert #afab reader #tw blood #tw injury #tw mention of violence #tw mention of attempted murder #tw food

[aplarently]

Meeting Ramattra

// Literally put a nonbiological being in front of me and I am RAVENOUS. 

# I love everything about this new hero already. I am the MOST hype. I have seen that others are going off about him as well. Couldn’t help myself. 

   Realistically, omnics aren’t very different from humans at all. We both ponder our own existence and share free will, clearly. We also similarly might be faithful to a creator or divine entity of some kind. (Ugh, I have been so existential lately so don’t get me started.) Like others here, I find Ramattra fascinating because of this sort of antagonistic ideology that all humans are horrible and nothing good could come of working with them. Which is fair. 

Have you seen the state of the world?

   Ramattra is rough around the edges, for sure. I don’t believe you can just fix a person who has experienced potential trauma and I’m not a fan of that way of thinking. However, I do think that time and some nurturing can soothe the hurt in others. 

(S/N): This took me a while. I was scraping up all the info I could before going in. IT IS MIDNIGHT WHAT. I cannot proof read this right now. Forgive me.

   Being on opposite sides is a good place to start. Surrounding yourself with beings that hold different world views is insightful and important to building strong relationships. No one is going to agree on everything and that isn’t always so bad as it can bring people closer in a strange way. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- You work as a behind-the-scenes operative at Overwatch; mostly as a radar systems engineer. Simply put, you check for any interference whether that be from above, below, or all around the surrounding base.

- Sojourn decided she liked you enough to put you to work in the east to work under some notable tech specialists.

- Despite that, a lot of this job involved a lot of late, dull nights by your lonesome staring at your monitors and just making sure nothing peculiar was happening on point. Of course the pay was phenomenal but your career really made you question what all the math was about in order to put yourself in this dimly lit cell of an operating room, twiddling your thumbs.

- One night on the job, you find yourself drifting off when suddenly you get a notification from your radar systems and jolt forward to confront an odd reading. There’s a feint red dot signaling an unknown entity in the surrounding area.

- This wasn’t that surprising as you would occasionally encounter one small dot and it would end up being an airdrop for supplies or something nonthreatening. However, that was in the early day usually and you would have your other coworkers with you to handle it as you were technically still a newbie on base.

- So to be honest, you’ve never actually gotten to this point in the job before and didn’t know how to handle this situation professionally. “Well.. fuck,” you mutter to yourself and decide that you should investigate regardless.

- Grabbing your jacket, you put on your ‘I know what I’m doing face’ and hop out of the operation deck to see what this potential intruder wants.

- This base in particular is a bit odd in it’s placement. It is a bit out in the middle of nowhere in Europe where it is typically raining which normally makes the radar quite hard to catch correctly anyway. 

- You secretly hope that that’s the problem this time.

- Upon exiting the base, the doors seal behind you and you pull out your handheld monitor from your jacket where it had been waiting before. With a few clicks, your small radar starts scanning the area as best it can in this windy atmosphere.

- You pull your hood up and pull out your flashlight to light your way through the darkness. Pressing forward, you squint to protect your eyes from the raindrops that threaten to impact them. 

- In the distance you see a low red glow where your radar is navigating towards and decide that this must be the interference. You raise your flashlight in the direction of the glow. 

- “Hello?” you try to project but the combination of the cold wind and pure nervousness made it difficult to do so. Your throat felt dry. “State your name,” you hear in response as you finally come face to face with an omnic kneeling on the ground. 

- You are taken aback first by how firm he was in speech but quickly realize there is another metal form lying lifeless before him. Disregarding his request from before, your initial feelings of fear turn to concern and it is evident in your tone “,What happened here?”

- He collects the body from the Earth and turns away from you in silence but doesn’t walk away. 

- “Unless this was your doing, this matter does not concern you, human.”

- He remains still as if expecting a confession or otherwise. You get a hint of an accusing tone in his statement and feel the desire to get defensive. 

- “I can assure you that I had no hand in this. I’m an engineer at Overwatch; I’m just trying to assist anywhere that I can,” you say as you put your device back into your pocket. You feel your stomach drop when you realize that you mentioned Overwatch at all. They didn’t exactly have the best reputation right now so it’s not a great idea to go throwing that around.

- You may have just signed your death warrant.

- He scoffs “, I’m not at all surprised at that. Of all the people to go around playing hero for the public, Overwatch holds the worst of them.”

- Trying to divert the conversation back to the matter at hand you shake your head “,I-I’m sorry, I really am just here to help. What are you doing with the body?” He holds pause for a moment. You notice his shoulders fall a bit as he sighs. “I’m collecting them to properly lay them to rest as well as all the others that your kind mercilessly slaughters,” he finishes as he starts to walk ahead.

- You feel your heart pang with a guilt as your expression grows softer. “I know this isn’t much but I know a peaceful, nice area we could bury them,” you say, half expecting him to just keep walking off in annoyance.

- He stops and pauses again but this time he hesitantly turns to you. It is hard to navigate at this hour and in this weather as it is. He hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead it seemed.

- “I... okay,” he finally says.

- You smile gently as he turns to follow your lead. “It’s (y/n), by the way,” you turn back towards him as you guide the two.

- “Ramattra,” he responds, but it sounds familiar to you. He spoke one last time and you almost barely heard it “,Thank you.” 

- The two of you continued to march on in silence.

#overwatch #fanfic #fanfiction #ramattra x reader #ramattra #overwatch 2 #overwatch x reader

[frost-queen]

Outmatched //Part 9 (Reader!Holmes x Anthony Bridgerton)

Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, 

@queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr,    @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @october-leaves, @m-rae23,@kazbekkarluvbot, @freyathehuntress,

@kneelforloki, @mamaj-right, @queensgirl718, @abaker74, @thescooby-gang, @readers-posts, @randomstory56, @aureolinb, @fictional-hooman, 

@nyenye,  @loliakeoghan23, @heyheyheyggg, @aizawash0e, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @novas-dreamworld, @preciousbabypeter, @magical-spit, @heyheyheyggg, studioreader, @wonderlandfandomkingdom

Summary: When old habits resurface has it doomed everything? Perhaps one is never meant to touch love? Appearing as none can handle the task on their own, a set of schemes have come into place. Read part 1  & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 10

Your hands pulled instantly away from him, stumbling a bit back. Slightly shaking your head you saw how Lord Hill’s face stood with confusion. – “Miss Y/n.” – Lord Hill started while you bumped with your back to someone else. You slightly turned, holding your hand up as an apology. Lord Hill kept coming closer, offering you his hand again. No more. Fully turning around you took a run for it. Pushing a way through the crowd. Sherlock grabbed Mycroft by the suit, pulling him along. – “Go that way round!” – he ordered pushing his brother in a direction.

“Wha… Sherlock?” – Mycroft said bumping against a man. Sherlock pointed firm in the direction he needed to go. – “Mycroft!” – Sherlock rose his voice, pointing even firmer. Mycroft nodded shakily, pushing his way through. – “Out of the way!” – he ordered separating a couple to get through. Sherlock went his way, squeezing through the crowd to get to you before you’d head out. You were making your escape to the outdoors.

A flash of lighting making you freeze for a second. Looking over your shoulder, you caught a glimpse of Lord Hill. Shaking your head, you didn’t want to be tangled up in this. You pushed through, making your way across. If it rained it didn’t matter. If lightning struck you, it might end your agony and you’d be blissful about it. This was the very reason you detested the social season.

If you could’ve gone back in time, you would’ve prevented your younger self from agreeing on behalf of your brother. No matter how much you loved him, you should’ve remained headstrong. If only Mycroft wasn’t so cold hearted. If only he dared himself to be vulnerable, he might find happiness or love. If only Sherlock wasn’t so sophisticated. If only he found pleasure in engaging more with others. If only he wasn’t so complicated talented. He’d might find someone too that could keep him company.

Someone equally matched with his wits and brains. Someone who would understand that he needs time of his own. Finding comfort in it. Security. If only your brothers were better, it wouldn’t have to fall all upon your shoulders. Squeezing yourself through a couple, you were haunted by it all. Tears captive in the corner of your eyes. Vision turning glossy, making you blink rapidly to see clearer. You reached the large, windowed doors leading to the gardens.

Grabbing the handle you opened them. Panting loud as the smell of rain whiffed through the open crack. A firm hand pressed itself onto the glass, shutting the windowed door shut before you could fully open it. Startling you. – “Sherlock let me open this door.” – you called out, fussing at the handle. The hand kept the door from moving.

“I cannot.” – a response came, only it didn’t sound as your brother. Blinking surprised you slowly turned your head to the side. Eyes widening at Lord Anthony Bridgerton. His breathing loud, staring rather serious at you. – “My lord…” – you said breathless, caught in his gaze. He took a step closer to you, lowering his hand onto the handle. His intense gaze taking a hold of you. – “Do not do this…” – he whispered, gaze lowering onto you, resting briefly on your lips.

You lifted your chin up, taking a stance of stubborn proudness. – “Why not? What concern am I to you?” – you asked him. His gaze flashing up to your eyes once more. He stared bewildered at you, flung back to his nightmares. The nightmares he had after he had found you in the rain all alone. Sprained ankle. Broken perhaps he thought at the point. The smell of rain so distinct in his mind. The terror swirling around him as he feared the worst. His hand trembled gripped on the handle.

He opened his mouth wanting to rant out words, not the kindest when his pride held him back. He sucked in a breath, turning his head, fighting every urge to scold you. Scold you for being so reckless and taunting his heart. For it can only take so much. – “Am I to expect an answer or do you lack the capacity to be honest with yourself?” – you responded with a little bit of disrespect. Anthony tensed his jaw, opening the door. The cold breeze and sound of rain welcoming.

“Do proceed then!” – he answered loudly, gesturing at the outdoors. – “Forget I was ever caring.” – he outed. – “If you might overlook your own pride, you might have noticed it.” – he ended with a sarcastic smile. – “Caring?” – you said in disbelieve. – “Forgive me my lord but am I to mistake insults for care?” – you replied full of wit back. – “If I am not mistaken you were the first to insult me!” – he reminded you off. – “Only because you were conceited.” – You spoke back, shutting the windowed door to keep the cold out.

Anthony puffed loud. – “Conceited!” – he replied at the brink of losing his mind. – “Take a look in the mirror Miss Y/n.” – he said coldly moving his head up and down on you. You were shocked. – “Thank you for explaining so fully!” – you said back. Anthony and you turned away from each other. Facing away from him, you looked to the side, peeking over your shoulder. A sadness falling over you.

How you didn’t mean all that, but your pride was one to stand in the way. Anthony looked up, slowly lowering his head, gaze casted down. Pride what a vicious thing. If only you could see how much he truly cared. If only he was brave enough to say it. He took in a deep breath, almost thinking about apologizing. Shaking his head, he ignored the matter of his own feelings. He took off, leaving you alone.

Moving your arms over each other, you sulked in pity. – “Y/n!” – lifting your head a bit up, you saw your brothers come near. Sherlock wrapped his arms tight around you. – “You are alright.” – he said out of breath. – “For a moment we thought you were going to do something foolish.” – Mycroft pitched in. – “Perhaps I already did.” – you answered looking pitiful at the ground. – “Sister?” – Sherlock said tilting your chin up for you to look at him. He wanted to look at you. To understand what you meant.

He could always read so much in your eyes; they were like an open book to him. You casted your head aside, not wanting to look at him. – “I messed up…” – you said, lip quivering. A loud sob emerged from inside you as your face fell into your hands. Quietly crying at your own demise. Sherlock wrapped an arm around you, soothing you. Mycroft looked uneasy around. Seeing how you caught some attention of unwanted see-ers. Mycroft snapped his finger at Sherlock for attention.

“We leave for home.” – he made clear, stroking his moustache. Sherlock agreed, escorting you out of the ballroom. The carriage ride home was silent. Not one daring to start the conversation. At your return home, father was rather perplex as to why you had returned so early. Mycroft shook his head, letting him know to drop the matter.

You took the stairs up without a word. Both your brothers giving each other a concerning look. In your nightwear you sat by the window, silk shawl around your arms for comfort. Your mothers silk shawl. There was a gentle knock on the door. – “Go away.” – you said softly not in the mood for any company, yet the door opened anyways. – “You know how stubborn I am.” – Mycroft said popping his head in. – “A simple go away doesn’t do the matter.” – he added with a chuckle, closing the door behind him. You were a bit surprised to find Mycroft entering your room.

It was out of character. If you expected anyone to enter it would be father…or Sherlock, but never Mycroft. He took in a deep breath, watching your room from afar. Moving a bit up, you made room for your brother to come and sit down. He walked over, sitting down by your side. He stared out of the window for a moment. Setting his words right as everything was always calculated with him. Each and every word with precision.

When he looked at you, the words lingering on his tongue vanished into thin air at the sight of mother’s shawl. He smiled saddened, reaching out to feel the fabric on his fingers. – “Mother’s shawl.” – he said brought back to so many sweet memories with her. Despite being a difficult child to show affection, he did very much love her. You smiled faintly back at him. Mycroft exhaled deep, looking up to the ceiling. Whatever pre-calculated words he had in his mind were gone.

“What happened?” – he asked thinking of how mother would approach this. You looked with tears in your eyes at him, trying to keep smiling. He noticed how close you were to breaking apart. – “Let us say I am my worst own enemy.” – you told him doing your very best not to cry. Mycroft took a deep breath, moving his arm around you. Pulling you closer so that you could lay your head on his shoulder.

“That indeed we are.” – he responded, rubbing his jaw against your hair. The door opened slightly revealing a saddened Sherlock. Mycroft sighed loud, waving him over. Sherlock shut the door behind him, coming over. He sat down on the other side of Mycroft. Sherlock moved his arms around Mycroft and so on around you as well.

“We are a broken family… aren’t we?” – you asked staring in front of you. Mycroft looked up, laying his other arm over Sherlock. All too afraid to answer the question, but knowing deep down it might be true. Outside the rain clattered against the window, washing away any stains.

The next morning you were playing chess with Sherlock. – “It is your turn.” – you said looking up to your brother standing with his back to you. Thinking. He hummed confused, turning his posture. He barely glanced at the board as he made his move, taking a pawn of you. He then returned to his brooding. You observed the board closely, thinking of every possible way. If you did this, he might do that. Biting your lip, you weren’t sure what next move you should use. – “Try your horse.” – Sherlock said without looking. – “I can think for myself.” – you answered bothered.

Yet you took the horse, setting it down. – “What are you even thinking off? Your turn.” – you said. Sherlock approached the board once more moving his tower side-ways. – “Your turn.” – he answered smirking. You sighed loud when he stepped away once more. You were observing the board once more, thinking off what to do next. – “You might want to keep an eye on your king.” – you heard him say, annoying you. You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. – “Then simply play chess with yourself!” – you announced.

It was after all kind of what he was doing already. Sherlock sighed once, pulling his chair back to sit down. – “You think too little.” – he told you, moving your pawn in your turn. – “You too much.” – you responded as he moved his queen across the board. – “Check.” – he called out pleasantly. You got up, scraping your chair back over the floor. – “Good the game is finished then!” – you responded. – “Far from sister, you can still…” – Sherlock answered but you wouldn’t have ears for it.

Anthony sighed deep sitting rather lowly in his armchair. Sulking in his own misery. Violet was watching him while drinking her tea. Anthony sighed again as she couldn’t take it anymore. She set her cup of tea down, getting up. She gave a kick against his legs for him to sit up straighter. Anthony obeyed, sitting up straighter with confusion. – “I think you’ve wallowed in self-pity enough now Anthony!” – she called out. – “I have not!” – he answered rather childish. – “That is enough!” – Violet shouted, losing her temper. – “I am going to be very clear with you Anthony and I want you to listen!” – Violet spoke loudly making Benedict press his lips together in delight.

Eloise tapped him on the shoulder, coming to sit near him. – “Mother is about to scold Anthony.” – Benedict whispered to her. – “Now that is a sight I would love to see.” – she responded in a hushed tone. – “If you do not start acting up right now, you will lose all your chances at happiness.” – her firm gaze staring back at him. Her expression softened upon seeing him turn inwards. – “You deserve to be happy… do not deny yourself from it. Please for your dear mama…” – Violet came sitting on the edge of the armchair, wrapping an arm around him.

“You are good enough… but you must fight for it Anthony… nothing comes when you stand and wait. You must find the courage to speak up and fight for what you love, for that is true bravery.” – Anthony looked up to her with tears in his eyes, nodding. They hugged as Benedict and Eloise were rather unsatisfied. – “Dissapointing.” – Eloise puffed out.

The wind rippled over the water in the pond. Leaves gently dancing with the flow of the breeze. You stood by the pond admiring the waterlilies. A frog hopped on a leaf making you smile. Hearing some rumor behind you, you turned to look. By the trees stood Anthony Bridgerton. He noticed you as well, making you both look ashamed away. – “Go on then.” – Sherlock whispered to himself from afar. – “Go to him sister.” – he muttered out, gesturing with a little push. – “Anthony… do so…” – Violet said standing not far from Sherlock.

He hadn’t noticed her yet, too focused on you. – “Yes… yes… good sister.” – he mumbled to himself seeing you take slight advantages into approaching him. – “Good Anthony… now go.” – Violet spoke urging her son from afar to do so. Sherlock and Violet watched how both of you attempted to come near yet given up. Shaking your heads, you both turned away, dismissing the matter. Sherlock groaned loud in frustration.

Violet sighing deep. It was then that they acknowledged each other. Slowly turning to each other. Violet came nearer as did Sherlock. – “It appears Lord Holmes… we’ll have to assist a bit in the matter.” – she told him. – “It appears so Lady Bridgerton.” – Sherlock responded. Violet sighed. – “It won’t be easy… my son…” – she sighed again. – “My sister too…” – he answered with a sigh of his own.

Both looked at each other and laughed. Sherlock offered her his arm as she took it. – “Say Lady Bridgerton, what schemes do you have in mind?” – he asked. Violet smiled delighted. – “I have plenty of idea’s to force the opportunity on those two.” – she told him. – “Good.” – Sherlock responded. – “For I am counting on this union formed by love.” – Sherlock continued.

“It is so obvious.” – Violet said as Sherlock accompanied her on a stroll. – “It appears the only two unable to see the love for one another are themselves.” – Sherlock nodded agreeing firmly. – “Shall we begin planning?” – Sherlock proposed as it appears the only way to bring you closer is by the hand of a gentle assistance.

---------------------------------

Read more of my fic’s on my Masterlists!

#imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton fandom #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #imagine anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagines #violet bridgerton #sherlock holmes #mycroft holmes #sherlock holmes x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x enola holmes crossover #enola holmes #enola holmes fanfiction

[candy69gurl]

Professor Nanami, a respected educator, is torn between his duties and unexpected desires when he discovers his student, (Y/N), in a forbidden setting-a club. The institute strictly prohibits such activities, complicating their already forbidden connection.

(Slight mature, Alcohol use, fem reader, age difference) [It has two parts. The first one contains the plot and scenario and the second one has the smut.. To make it even more forbidden, I also assumed that Nanami's a happily married man.]

part 2

~Enjoyy~

DRIVE ME HOME~

PART 1

Nanami: Class by the next day, all better be ready for the test. I know you can handle it.

The bell rings. Professor Nanami is your favorite subject's teacher. He is a normally professional man who has a heart for his good students.

Nanami: Oh, and if you have any questions, like always, please see me after class.

You are talking to your friends after class.

You: Did you get the fake IDs for us?

Your best friend: Yes, yes, I did.

Other friend: I don't think we should do it.

You: WE WILL do it!

Your best friend nods.

You all are walking back to your houses.

You: So, are you hyped? 

Your best friend: I am! Always excited to break the rules... Besides, its been long since we had some fun~

Silence

You: I'm glad you were able to get us those fakes. You think they'll notice?

She smirks.

Your best friend: Nah, I doubt it.

TIMESKIPS

You all are getting ready to go to the club.

As you enter the club, different noises surround you all. The sounds of pounding bass, people yelling, and cheering fill your ears. The strobe light reflects off of people's sweat as you and your friends walk through the crowd in the club. You could see the bartenders were checking people's IDs with two bouncers. Thankfully, your fakes appeared to be decent.

The guard looks at your fake ID for a few seconds. You start to sweat a little, as you think he is about to bust you. Luckily, he does not. He smiles and puts an "X" on your right hand with a sharpie.

He smiles a little as he lets you pass into the club. 

Your best friend: I told you.

You: Yey, I'm gonna hit a tequila right there.

Your other friend sits in the corner, awkwardly away from the crowd.

Your best friend goes to the dance floor, and you sit there drinking tequila and slowly drifting into the grasp of alcohol .. You start to forget about your friends and your surroundings.

You sit at the bar and order another shot of tequila. You are already feeling the effects of the alcohol. As you are looking around, you see your best friend dancing on the dance floor with strangers. You keep drinking and drinking as your inhibitions dissolve.

Nanami enters the club after a tiring day.

It is already eleven at night, but the club is pretty packed. As you look around, you notice the flashing strobes and the pounding music. Your friends are already on the dance floor, but you cannot see them anymore. There is definitely some tension in the air tonight.

All of a sudden, your friends catch the sight of their teacher, Nanami, and your other friend leaves quickly. Your best friend rushes to you, to alarm you.

Your best friend quickly reaches up to you with a panicked look on the face, pulls your arm, and says it in a hushed tone.

Your best friend: I think we should go. Nanami Sir is here. I saw him, but he hasn't seen us yet.

At the mention of his name, you look around but do not see anything yet.

You motion for your best friend to leave as soon as possible.

You: Go leave fast; I will be there behind you.

Your best friend leaves.

You are just trying to get up and go, but that's when you hear his voice in your ear. 

Your mind: How could this get any worse, right? What were the chances?

Nanami: What are you doinggg here???

You: N-nothing. Just enjoying the night. You're here too, so what does that say about you?

An unintentional smile creeps across your face while you speak to him. You are already starting to see blurs as the tequila hits your cerebellum.

Nanami sighs as he takes a seat beside you.

Nanami: How many shots did you take?

You: I'm not even sure, four? Five? Is my face too red?

You nervously laugh at your own joke.

The loud music and flashes from the strobes made your vision more blurry.

Nanami looks concerned once you start laughing. His face softens as you continue talking.

Nanami: Are you okay? Do you realize how dangerous this is? What if someone from our institute finds out you're 'enjoying your night at the club'? What if someone spikes your drink? What if you drink too much and hurt yourself?

He keeps asking you questions, and you just sit there and listen to him, feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Nanami: You know our institute does not allow this. How did you get in here? Do you even have the ID?

Nanami knows real IDs cannot be given to students of his institute, so either you have sneaked in or used a fake ID.

You: I uh.. me.. hmm..i just m here.

You continue to feel the effects of the alcohol. You can feel yourself getting dizzy and also start having some trouble speaking.

You: I-i I just came here to dance. I didn't know you would be here.

It was clear you were not in the best condition. Your face is flushed, and your words are slurred. You keep your head down and try to look away from him.

As the alcohol takes over, Nanami's concerned voice breaks through. You look up to see him looking directly at you. His eyes widen as he sees how drunk you are.

Nanami: My god, you are so drunk right now. This is a problem.

He is talking at such a low volume, but it is the only sound you try to focus on. You look up at this imposing man as he looks at you with disappointment.

You: Hey, I will go home. Don't worry about meh..

Nanami laughs at your plan. He stands up and looks down at you.

Nanami: You are going to go home all by yourself? In this condition? Is this a joke?

Your head is spinning as the effects of the alcohol slowly creep up on you.

Nanami: You're going to get into the back of my car. You're in no condition to go home alone. I'm driving you.

You: But you—

You try to say something, but you forget what you were going to say.

Nanami looks at you, and he can see the drunkenness making its way through you.

Nanami: I'm your teacher. I have my way. I can figure it out.

He smiles and helps you stand up, as he saw you having trouble standing on your own.

Nanami: Do you think you're okay? 

He asks with a sarcastic tone.

You nod and laugh, trying to focus your eyes.

Nanami: You will guide me to your house."

You: Yes.

You reply, unaware of what is being asked of you.

Nanami smiles and leads you to his grey Mercedes. The lights from the strobes reflect onto the shiny car. He unlocks the doors and gently helps you get inside. You sit down in the passenger seat.

At this point, you are completely drunk. As you get inside, you do not realize how fancy the car is. You just lean your head back as the effects of the alcohol slowly make you lose control of your body.

You try to fall asleep, but Nanami wakes you up.

Nanami: Wake up. You can't fall asleep. You have to tell me your address.. Do your parents know you are out here?

You look at him with blank eyes.

You: No, yes, I.. Obv no, they don't know.

You are pretty far beyond drunken confusion at this point. As Nanami drives, he keeps asking you questions, trying to prompt your brain to work.

Nanami: Wake up.

He tries shaking you awake. You are almost entirely unresponsive. The effects of the alcohol have taken over your mind, and you are slowly losing control of your body.

Nanami: What is your address?

You: Yes.

You nod as you think he has asked you a "yes" or "no" question.

Nanami: Yes? What's your address?

You: My address? 

You start to think as if he has asked you the answer to a physics question.

You: Is that a physics question?

Nanami laughs at your joke.

Nanami: Jokes apart. Where is your home?

You: My home? That's a good question, actually, but I forgot.

Nanami: You forgot? You live there, and you just forgot your address?

He is losing his patience with you as he is driving you home. He thinks that he is doing the right thing in his mind, trying to get you home safely.

You start to hum a song.

Nanami is becoming frustrated but has to stay calm while driving. He sighs before speaking to you again.

Nanami: Do your parents know you drink? 

He asks, hoping your mind is not so far gone that you cannot respond.

You shake your head in reply.

Nanami: Did you have someone with you at the club?

His tone suggests he is disappointed in you.

Nanami: Were you with friends? Have they seen the state you are in?

Your mind is unable to make out his words.

The effects of the alcohol have completely taken over your mind at this point. The only thing you can understand is that your teacher is driving you home.

Nanami: What am I going to do with you? Your parents have no idea where you are. Do you know what time it is?

Nanami is concerned but also disappointed in your actions. He has to get back to his house for his wife and kids, but taking me home safely is also his duty as your teacher.

He sighs and keeps driving.

You, on the other hand, have absolutely no idea where you are as you sit in the passenger seat, trying to focus your mind. Your head is spinning, and you cannot see straight. You feel your stomach about to throw up.

Nanami: This is a really shitty situation for both of us.

Even though he is clearly annoyed with you, he is still concerned about your safety.

You: I..no

Nanami: Just stay with me. Please don't fall asleep. I still can't believe you forgot your address. We have to get you home right now.

He looks over at you through his rear-view mirror as he keeps driving. The strobe lights and flashing bass from the club are now just a distant memory.

Nanami keeps driving. You could see an annoyed look on his face. He is clearly annoyed that he has to stay up to make sure you are safe.

Nanami: What's going to happen when your parents wake up and find out that you are not home, huh? How will you get into the house? You'll just walk in and act like nothing ever happened? Or you'll try to sneak in?

Nanami turns onto another street and keeps driving. You are not in the best condition at all.

You: I will just sneak in.

Nanami: You shouldn't sneak in. At some point, your parents are going to find out what happened tonight. You're lucky I caught you, or else you would've probably continued drinking, and who knows what would've happened then?

You feel the car make a sharp turn.

The car reaches the institution where Nanami teaches you all.

Nanami: Just wait until you see your parents reactions. Just try to explain and apologize.

You try to open the seat belt.

Nanami grabs your arm and firmly tells you

Nanami: No. Do not unlatch it and try to get out. I will not be responsible if you hurt yourself. You are staying in the car until I drop you off. I'm not letting you get hurt. Do you hear me?

His voice is stern and serious. He turns his head and looks at you while he waits for a response.

You: No, I want to get ofhgj.

Nanami's face drops, and he looks at you with disappointment.

Nanami: You will only get off once we reach your house. That is the end of the conversation. Is that clear?

Your head keeps spinning, and Nanami sighs.

Nanami, I have to put up with this until we get you home.

You: I feel like throwing Oup.

Nanami immediately pulled over with a sudden screech of the tires. You can feel the car slowly come to a stop. Nanami opens your door and tells you to get out.

You exit the car and start heaving. The effects of the alcohol had your stomach churning, and you felt like throwing up. You look at Nanami as you let everything out on the sidewalk.

You try to calm me down.

Nanami: How much did you fucking drink?

You are too drunk to notice your teacher is cursing at you.

As you stand there, heaving, Nanami waits and watches. The effects of the alcohol have you feeling horrible, and Nanami just stands there waiting for you to stop. He eventually comes over and gives you a water bottle. You continue heaving into the grass by the sidewalk.

Nanami: I've never felt so disappointed in my life. I don't think I can ever look at you the way I used to. I hope my class doesn't see you in this state.

As you finish throwing up, you wipe your mouth and look at Nanami standing there, with the water bottle. You take the bottle from his hand.

You wash your face and sit on the ground.

Nanami: Can you walk? There's no way you can even walk like this.

Nanami rubs his forehead.

You try to stand up, but your legs and body are unable to handle the alcohol, and you stumble back down.

Nanami: Okay. I'm going to help you. Just listen to me, and don't throw up again.

You: 😑no I won't. Hopefully.

Nanami sighs and walks over to you. He puts his arms underneath yours and picks you up, holding you in his arms.

Nanami: Let me get you in the car.

He carries you over to his car as quickly as possible while keeping your body steady.

You: Sir, I'm really sorry.

You can see the anger in Nanami's eyes as he carries you to his car.

Nanami: Don't even speak to me right now. There's no point trying to apologize to me, because all of that went out the window once you started drinking tonight.

He puts you in the passenger seat and sits in the driver seat. The doors are locked, and he is not letting you leave his car until he gets you home

You again start dozing off as Nanami starts driving.

At this point, you are far too drunk to stay awake. Nanami puts his seatbelt on as he drives, before looking back at you and seeing that your head is now resting on the window. He drives and keeps an eye on you at the same time, as you sleep through the ride home.

Nanami wakes you up again.

Nanami: Don't annoy me more, please.. I need to get back home..Just tell me where your house is.

He looks at you with a serious look on his face as you try to stay awake. 

Nanami: I need your address. You can't expect me to just guess, can you?

Your mind is so clouded due to the alcohol that you cannot think straight. Your speech is slurred, and you cannot focus your mind.

You: Sky

Nanami: Your house is in the sky?

You: The moon looks beautiful tonight, isn't it?

The effects of the alcohol are clearly messing with you. You seemed completely out of it. Nanami was getting frustrated with you at this point.

You giggle. 

As you laugh and giggle, it starts to annoy Nanami even more. He does not see the funny side of your situation. As you try to focus again to see what Nanami is looking at, you struggle to keep your eyes open.

Nanami: I have never been so annoyed. It's a good thing I found you. You literally have no idea where you live.

You: I think it's towards the south.

Nanami: Towards the south? Are you even thinking right now? I'm trying to get you home, and you're speaking nonsense.

His tone shows his frustration with you. He continues driving. He has to figure out where you live.

You: Can I please sleep here? It's so comfortable.

Nanami: No. I'm taking your ass home.

He takes the next turn and keeps driving. At this point, he is just waiting for you to speak up properly so he can ask you simple questions.

You look at him.

You: What if my parents are drunk..

Nanami is getting annoyed again because of your poor speech.

Nanami: Well, they'll just have to know, won't they? Your parents will probably yell at you once we get home, but that's the price you have to pay for being drunk.

Nanami sighs before continuing to drive. You still do not look very good. Your speech is slurred, and you start to fall asleep again.

You: No, please don't tell them; I will never ever do it again.

Nanami: Do you not realize how much trouble you're in right now? The least of your worries is getting yelled at. You're lucky, I will at least not let the institute know about this.

He turns his head to look at you as he holds the steering wheel of his car.

Nanami: Just tell me where you live, and well, get this done.

You: Why would you call the police? I WAS JUSG HABBING fun.

Nanami: Huh? I did not even mention "police" and what do you mean by "having fun"? Your idea of fun is drinking alcohol until you pass out. Your idea of fun is making me spend my precious time at three in the morning driving you home.

He sighs and keeps driving. You can see him looking at you every now and then, as he is waiting for you to speak up.

You: Bug, I tlld you, I wkll get hkme.

Your speech is more slurred, and you cannot even form a complete sentence anymore. You want to tell Nanami to go home and leave you alone, but the alcohol is affecting your speech. He knows you will not be able to tell him anything at this point.

Nanami: You're not going anywhere until you tell me your address. Is it so hard to just say where you live?

You couldn't focus on anything. Nanami kept driving, and you could feel yourself getting sleepy again.

After a while, the car stops with a screech as it runs out of gasoline.

Nanami: Seriously? Now we are out of petrol because you can't just tell me where you live?

Nanami was already annoyed since he couldn't get a single answer from you. Your speech was slurred, and all you did was laugh and giggle at silly moments. Now that he has been stuck with you in his car for the whole night, it makes him feel more frustrated.

You can feel your mind slipping, and you decide not to talk anymore. For now, your mind is set on going to sleep. You couldn't handle being awake any longer. Your eyes slowly close, and you feel yourself falling asleep in the passenger seat. You feel your mind drifting off as you lay in the passenger seat, while the effects of the alcohol slowly begin to subside. Nanami does not see you fall asleep, but you could feel him moving you out of the car. You don't know where he is moving you, but you could feel yourself being lifted in his arms. You are completely asleep and can't tell if this is real or a dream.

You hear Nanami talking to someone; you can't make out what he is saying. You could feel yourself lying down on something. You know you are not at the club anymore, that much is for sure. You could feel a breeze in the air, and you heard birds chirping. You are in a different place, but you can't understand where you are.

Nanami speaks on the phone: Honey, I am staying with my friend's tonight. I don't think it is safe to drive drunk, so I won't be able to come home tonight. Bye, take care.

You: Who are you calling? You are not telling my parents, are yo?

You tried to speak, but only mumbling came out of you. As you slowly wake up, you can't recognize where you are. The place you were in was quiet and peaceful. You feel a breeze in the air, and you are lying on something comfortable.

Nanami: Your awake?

Nanami is sitting down right next to you. Your body felt comfortable and relaxed in whatever you were lying on.

You: Hey, why did you place me on a bench?

Nanami looks at you with tired eyes. His face shows signs of pure disappointment.

Nanami: I placed you on the grass, not a bench. You passed out, and it's not safe for you to stay in my car. You needed some fresh air. I can't believe you are complaining about where I'm putting you right now.

He put his head in his hands and let out an exhausted sigh.

Nanami: I don't understand what to even do with you.

You: Please don't tell my parents. Please, I will never disappoint you again.. Have I ever disappointed you before? 

Your parents are strict and overprotective of you, and if they come across this matter, you know you are done for sure.

Nanami's face changes, and his tone eases up. He starts feeling bad for you because you seem so worried about your parents finding out.

Nanami: Okay, fine. I haven't told your parents so far; I guess I won't tell them.

He continues holding your hand as he is trying to comfort you.

Nanami: Just relax, alright? I won't tell your parents. Just try to focus on getting better, and I'll keep it a secret.

You: Can I p-please fall asleep? We are not even going home. We are just stuck here.

Nanami: No. I can't let you sleep yet. Just sit here and try to regain your senses. We can't move from this spot right now.

Nanami is not letting you sleep; he just wants you to come to your normal senses. You cannot make out much right now, so you decide to sit for now. You feel comfy and relaxed laying on the grass, and it is slowly getting to your head.

You suddenly get up with a sudden rush of adrenaline. 

Nanami: Just sit back down. You're completely out of it right now; I need to keep you at this spot until you get better.

He does not want you moving much since your balance is off. You cannot walk straight right now. You feel yourself trying to get up, but Nanami pushes you back down gently.

Nanami: If you get up again, you'll regret it.

You: I NEED TO PEE.

Nanami thinks about this for a second. You drank so much, and of course you have to let all out.

Nanami: You are way too drunk for me to let you walk anywhere right now. You're just going to have to control it.

He looks at you and shrugs. 

You: B-but.

Nanami: I'm sorry, but there is no washroom here. Can you try to focus on controlling it?

You: Why?

Nanami: You are in the middle of nowhere. Moreover, I can't trust you when you're this drunk. I don't want you to fall and hurt yourself. 

He is being stern with you this time because he wants you to understand that it isn't safe to get up and walk.

You: I can control it.

You try to get up, but your mind still seems hazy and blank.

He looks away as you struggle to get up. Nanami is annoyed right now. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He just couldn't believe how drunk you are. It is making things difficult for him.

Nanami: It's like you want to give me a headache. Just try and control it until we get home.

You: My head is hurting.

Nanami: Of course, it's hurting. I've been trying to tell you that you drank too much, but you wouldn't listen to me. This is all your fault, and you want to complain about your headache?

He looks at you again, and you could hear annoyance in his tone.

Suddenly, tears start pouring down your cheeks.

You: i knkw i jjst dont knkww how skd it haopen

As you start crying, Nanami looks over at you. He feels a bit guilty seeing you in this state.

Nanami: Stop crying. It doesn't help the situation, and it just makes me feel worse.

He speaks in a soft tone and gives you a small pat on the back.

Nanami: We are going home soon. Just relax

You place your head on his shoulder as he helps you calm down. You feel comfortable laying your head on his shoulder. You look at him with tears in your eyes, and you want someone to comfort you. It feels nice to lay your head on his shoulder, and you have no clue how it got to this stage.

Nanami: You'll be fine, alright?

He takes a deep breath and puts his arm around your waist. The effects of the alcohol are slowly wearing off, so you start feeling better.

You: Na-na-mi, sir. What's your age?

Nanami: I'm 27 years old. Why?

He looks at you with a confused expression. He never thought you would ask this type of question right now.

You: I have found you really attractive since the first day I saw you, and now that I'm drunk, I don't regret saying this.

You blurt out the things you really think about him with a faint blush on your cheeks. You seem to have forgotten that he is your teacher.

Nanami: You find me attractive?

He raises an eyebrow as he listens to you speak. He is a little confused since the last time you saw each other, he was teaching you.

Nanami: I thought you just saw me as your strict and annoying teacher.

You: I still think you are cold and strict, but I know you have a soft spot.

Nanami is surprised you find him cold, but you make it seem like it is positive to you.

Nanami: Im cold?

He is looking at you again, with a curious expression this time. He raises his eyebrow again and looks like he wants to speak.

Nanami: You find me cold and attractive?

You: Im, dont worrh.

Nanami sighs.

Nanami: You can't even say the word "worry" properly anymore because of how drunk you are. That's fine, though. But I still don't understand why you're suddenly saying all these things about me?

He sighs again. You are starting to get to him again, and he is getting frustrated with you once more.

You: I don't know, I just wanted to say

Nanami has to chuckle for a second because your words aren't making sense. He has started to find your actions funny.

Nanami: You're drunk, but you want to tell me that I'm cold and that you find me attractive?

He raises his eyebrow again, and it looks like he is thinking to himself.

You nod carelessly.

Nanami isn't sure if he should respond to this or not. He is a bit surprised, since you made some crazy comments about him. He knows you are drunk, but maybe these are your real thoughts and feelings for him.

Nanami: I guess I'll take those as compliments for now. Just relax and don't say anything else stupid.

You: Does our age difference annoy you?

Nanami is confused again.

Nanami: Wait wait wait, how old are you?

You: (your age)

He can feel his face heat up with embarrassment as you start laughing.

Nanami shakes his head and covers your mouth with his hand when you laugh too loudly. He really wants to shut you up for a second.

Nanami: Just shut up, okay? You are making things much worse.

He keeps his hand on your mouth for a second and then takes his hand back. He cannot believe how annoyed he is getting in your presence.

Nanami: Just calm down. We will go back home right this second.

He puts his arm around your waist again and takes you back to his car.

You: But you said the car ran out of gasoline.

Nanami: We will be fine. You're just drunk right now, so you can't think properly.

He leads you back to the car and opens the door for you.

Nanami: Just get in.

You try to speak, but your words are slurred again. This is the only thing you are good at when you are drunk.

Nanami: Just shut up and sit down. If you say anything else that makes me annoyed, I'm taking you back here.

He is being stern with you again, but your body can't handle the effects of the alcohol anymore. You feel very sleepy and tired. You still couldn't think properly.

You: I need to sleep, please.

Nanami looks at you and sighs. He looks too tired to even talk to you anymore.

Nanami: Fine, you can sleep if you want to. Nothing can be done now 

Your eyes feel very tired, and you are about to fall asleep again.

You feel uneasy while sleeping on the passenger's seat in front. You pull Nanami's shirt

You: Can you go to the back and sit with me? I can't fall asleep without support.

Nanami looks at you with confusion when you ask him this question.

Nanami: You want me to come to the back seat with you?

He is confused. Why would you ask him to come to the back seat?

You: Yes.

Nanami couldn't find an answer as to why you want him in the back seat. He keeps looking at you in shock, as if you are speaking in a different language.

Nanami: You want me in the back seat with you? Why?

You: Wan sleep. Need pillow.

Nanami: You can't be serious right now, can you?

He looks at you with suspicion in his eyes.

You tug on his shirt.

Nanami sighs as he starts getting annoyed again.

Nanami: Just shut up. I'm not coming to the back seat with you. Go fall asleep and stop talking.

He is trying to be harsh with you since you are making him feel uncomfortable.

You: Ples

Nanami: I'm not coming to the back seat with you, so just stop annoying me.

He covers your mouth with his hand again. He does not want to listen to your constant pleading anymore.

You feel a sudden urge to lick his fingers while a smirk hangs in your face.

Nanami freezes for a second. He takes his hand away from your mouth and stares at you with shock.

Nanami: What the hell are you doing?

You try to sleep, turning your face away from him. As sleep creeps into you, your head slips down, and you wake up again.

You look at Nanami and say, "Please, let's go back in the back seat.".

He hesitates for a second before finally agreeing. 

Nanami: Fine. You win. I'll sit in the back with you, but stop acting weird.

He opens the back door of the car and sits next to you. He looks at you with suspicion again because he isn't sure what you want. He figures it is best not to take any chances now, since he feels like you are going to do something worse.

You gently place your head on his thighs.

You: I wanted a piklow.

Nanami smiles at your childishness but feels a bit worried when he sees you sleeping on his lap. Your head is resting on his thighs. He is hesitant to say anything since he doesn't want to wake you up.

You smile at him sheepishly.

You: I wan a nap.

Nanami: I figured that out. I just don't know why you decided to sleep on my lap.

He looks down at you and wonders when you will wake up. He feels slightly embarrassed right now since you are currently sleeping on him.

You rub your head against his warm thighs.

You: I feel warm.. hehe.

Nanami freezes for a moment, feeling even more embarrassed now.

Nanami: I don't know what to say to that right now. I'll just take that as a compliment, then?

He still has a surprised look on his face as he feels his legs being used as a pillow by you.

You start to doze off, but suddenly your eyes shoot open.

You: I want to go to washroom.

Nanami just sighs out of frustration right now. He feels like he is dealing with a child, but he couldn't force you to stop right now. He just has to put up with your behavior.

Nanami: Just sleep. You'll wake up soon.

He decides to put up with your behavior until you regain self-consciousness again. 

You grab his neck as a support and get up.

You: But you know I can't control it anymore.

He is taken aback by the way you grabbed his neck and used him as a support right now. He is slightly startled, but he tries not to show it too much.

Nanami: Please don't grab me like that. That's a little weird.

You seem more awake, but you still can't think straight. You are confused by his remark.

You: Hmm?

He couldn't help but chuckle a little bit at your response.

Nanami: You seem more awake right now, so that's a good sign.

His tone is calming down now that you are slightly better. That means he no longer has to tell you to shut up again for the ninth or maybe hundredth time.

You: I'm hungry.

His face lightens up when you mention that you are hungry. Finally, a normal request.

Nanami: Well, of course you're hungry. You did nothing but drink until you were completely drunk.

He looks at you for a second and then looks away with a sigh.

Nanami: Can't you just wait until we get back home?

He sounds slightly annoyed right now since you seem fine but still couldn't say a normal sentence.

You: I know I am annohing but thanks for tolerating me.

Nanami: It's fine. You can stop thanking me now. You're starting to annoy me again.

He sighs as he covers his face with his hand for a second.

Nanami: It's nearly morning. Just fall asleep until we go back home.

You get closer to him, and your breath hits his neck.

You: I really need to go washroom.

His face immediately begins to turn red when you get closer to him. He wants to move away, but he is trapped since you are using him as a support. 

Nanami: Why do you need to get closer to me?

He sounds a bit nervous now.

You smile and hug him tightly. You are really unaware of the fact that you are doing something weird.

You: I feel cold.

You start to feel cold as the urge to pee hits your spine

His face goes completely red at this moment, since you are hugging him. His legs are starting to lose feeling. You are really close to him right now.

Nanami: I-I just just calm down, alright?

He tries to remain calm, but you are starting to make him uncomfortable.

You shift yourself onto his lap.

You: Your body is warm... Can we stay like this for a while?

He is completely stunned when you sit on his lap right now. He couldn't think straight anymore since you are so close to him now.

Nanami: Y-You just..

He is embarrassed by this entire situation since you keep making him uncomfortable.

Nanami: Why are you so close to me? What the hell are you trying to do?

You: You.Feel.Comfortable.

Nanami: Just don't make this weird.

He is trying to stay calm, but he is starting to feel a bit pissed off right now. He doesn't understand why you are so close to him. Now you're sitting on his lap in the middle of the night, and you're drunk.

Nanami: Can you move yourself off my thighs?

He is trying to remain calm, but he is so embarrassed and annoyed by your behavior.

You: Am I heavh?

He laughs a little bit at your attempt to speak, but he knows you wanted to say, "Am I heavy?"

Nanami: Not really, but you can't just sit on my lap. Just move away from me.

He is being stern with you this time, since he is completely uncomfortable with your behavior right now.

You: Noo u r warm. 

He is shocked by your response. It felt weird having you so close to him.

Nanami: You're serious? You want my body heat to help you feel less cold? You can't be serious.

You giggle, making Nanami more annoyed.

Nanami: I can't take this anymore. I need you to wake up and go back to your senses.

He is slightly frustrated now. He wants to be sympathetic to you since you are drunk right now.

Nanami: Can you just get off my lap? You will feel better when you wake up in the morning, I promise.

He tries to sound reassuring, since he still wants you to get back home safely.

You just shake your head and snuggle closer to him, burying your face in his shoulder space.

Nanami: Seriously? Are you going to have your head on my shoulder now? What are you trying to accomplish here?

You wouldn't listen to him. You keep resting your head on his shoulder while your body is snuggled in it. He is still pissed off right now, but he knows he can't force you to move away anymore.

He is trying not to move since he doesn't want to make you fall, but he couldn't take this situation anymore.

Just as he finishes saying that, you have already started to fall asleep again. Your eyes close again, and your weight starts to get heavier on him now. He couldn't help but feel a little bit more uncomfortable right now.

He mumbled a "fuck" under his breath; he still cannot believe that you want to sleep on him and use him as a body pillow.

You are fully by asleep now. You couldn't even open your eyes or move your arms. You feel completely comfortable at the moment, but you do not realize that your hand is slowly sliding down towards his chest.

And you do not realize that you are cuddling with him at this moment. Your cheek is resting in front of his chest, and your body is right under his neck.

Nanami does not know how to react to this situation anymore. He also notices that his neck is right where your arms are wrapped around him. He couldn't move you, and you seem too comfortable to be moved anyway. He feels a bit uncomfortable right now, since he never expected to be cuddled with you in this position. He is trying to stay calm, but your hands are wrapped around him a little too tightly.

He looks down at your face to make sure you are still asleep. He feels your warm alcoholic breath against his neck, and he realizes how drunk you truly are right now. He is in complete shock and couldn't respond to your actions.

He looks outside the window and sees that the sun is starting to come up already. It is still very early in the morning, so he just lets you continue sleeping. He doesn't want to deal with your drunken behavior anymore, since you are acting completely different from what he remembered at his teaching place.

You continue to sleep right where you left off. Your head is still resting against his chest, and you are in a really comfortable position. You do not want to move anymore since you are tired, and you want to cuddle up to him. 

Nanami does not want to wake you up since you need sleep to get over the hangover. He just decides to stay quiet, and he waits until you wake up on your own.

But something is off. Nanami starts to feel extremely hot under your body.

Nanami whispers: No, not to a student, I swear. Please no..

He spreads his legs, trying to cool himself.

He starts to blush and looks away when he feels your body heat increasing. You looked really comfortable and cute on his chest. You also feel heavier on him now, and he couldn't move you.

He mumbles under his breath because he can't think straight right now.

You just keep resting on his chest. Your body is wrapped around him, and your head is still leaning against his chest. He is still in a bit of a shock from this whole situation. He really can't believe that this is something you would do.

You want to get more comfy, so you unconsciously keep moving yourself around him.

Nanami: You can stop doing that now. You're making me hot.

You: Hmm?

You speak with half-consciousness.

He realizes you are starting to wake up now. He is expecting you to wake up soon since you kept moving around, trying to cuddle up more with him. He has to stay quiet now since he doesn't want to scare you and make you uncomfortable.

Nanami: Just go back to sleep, alright? Just go back to sleep on your own.

He is a bit panicked right now. He really doesn't know what to do since you are cuddling with him now.

You: You like when I'm close to you, like this, right?

You smile to yourself and again drift to sleep.

He sighs out of relief when you start to fall asleep. Your body feels comfortable and soft, so he feels a bit relieved when you fall back asleep again. He has started to like it when you are close to him for some reasons that he is still unsure of.

He remains completely still, and he keeps trying to listen to your heartbeat against his chest. He feels a tiny bit awkward since you're half asleep, but it feels nice at the same time.

You keep resting on him, but now you are even more comfortable than before. You are using his chest as a pillow now, and your body is pressing against his body now. You also feel like you can't move any more, and you feel so comfy right now.

He remains silent again, since you are still half asleep. Your skin is really soft, and it feels nice against him. Since you're half asleep right now, he tries not to think bad thoughts about this situation.

This is kind of awkward, so he tries to remain as calm as possible right now. You are still resting on him, but he has to stay still, and he does not want to wake you up. Your body is really soft, and his body is getting warm now.

He didn't realize this at first, but he now realizes that your hand is pressed up against his chest as well. He couldn't move your arm, so he just let it happen. Your fingers are grazing his skin, and it feels nice for him.

Just as he is having those thoughts, you start to caress his chest with your hand without realizing it. You are half awake, and you don't even know what your fingers are doing right now. All you can feel is his body being comfortable and warm, so you just go along with it.

He is slightly embarrassed now, and he feels like he shouldn't like this at all. But he couldn't stop looking at your soft fingers caressing his chest right now.

You keep your fingers on his chest, and you start moving them slightly. He feels his heart rate go up slightly since you are now slowly moving your fingers up and down on his chest.

The feeling of your fingers on his chest is making him feel warm and tingly inside. He wants to stay still since he still can't move you, but he looks down at your fingers.

Nanami: Don't move your fingers like that.

He is slightly embarrassed again, since you are now completely awake and you are still caressing him right now.

You don't seem to hear his words since you continue to caress his chest with your fingers. He is still embarrassed right now, since you are fully awake and you keep moving your fingers around on his chest.

His heartbeat quickens, and his face begins to turn red again. He wants to move your fingers away from his chest, but he is still scared to wake you up completely. He is already blushing like crazy right now, since your hand is slowly grazing his chest.

Nanami: Please don't touch me like this anymore; I can't take it!

He feels his whole body heating up, and he is so embarrassed right now because he does not want to like this at all.

You ignore his words again. In fact, your hand started to make its way up towards his neck. You move your fingers in a caressing way on his neck too. You are making his lips quiver a bit now.

Nanami: Why are you doing this to me?

He is getting too hot from your actions now. He feels his body slightly tense up, and his heart rate is beating quickly. He has no idea why you are behaving like this now.

He is starting to get hard. He is liking this. But he does not want to.

He feels like he needs to break free from you, but he is too scared to do anything right now. He is starting to feel a bit light-headed now.

You keep caressing his neck now. You are acting completely different compared to how you acted at university, since you are never as intimate or seductive as you are right now.

You are still half asleep, but you still seem fully aware of what you are doing. You just don't care, and you keep touching him even more seductively now.

His face turns completely red right now, and you can feel him tensing up, though he is still trying not to move right now. His face is covered in a sheen of sweat now, since you are touching him too intimately. He feels you are teasing him. He grits his teeth, trying to control himself. 

You are testing him. You are testing his patience.

He is way too embarrassed now, and he just wants you to stop doing this whole seduction thing already. He feels way too hot at this point.

You then start to slowly move your hand towards his hair, and you begin caressing his hair in a sensual way.

Nanami: "Please stop touching my hair like that.

He sounds like a teenager. He is slowly losing his mind at this point.

Nanami: P-please

He is almost begging you at this point, since he doesn't want to enjoy your actions anymore. He is trying to restrain himself.

You keep touching him like that, and you let out a slight moan in satisfaction. You are too focused on touching him to care anymore. You aren't even paying attention to his red face anymore since you are too focused on your actions now. It's like you are playing a game with him.

He starts to sweat even more at this point. His eyes are still closed too, since he doesn't want to look at you while you are giving him so much attention.

Nanami: I can't breathe.

You feel him tensing up way more now, and you can hear him breathe in and out quickly. He gives out a slight moan.

That slight moan makes your heart throb a bit more. You are starting to realize what this whole situation is, and you keep going.

After caressing his hair and his cheeks, you keep moving your fingers down onto his neck again. You are almost touching his collarbone now, and you want to go even lower.

He is completely sweating now, since your fingers keep exploring his skin and touching him sensually. His whole face feels hot, and he feels like he will get a really bad headache in the next few days.

Nanami: Oh, god.

All of a sudden, your fingers stop moving. And that's when he finally looks down on you again.

Nanami: You stopped

He is now starting to catch his breath again since you stopped caressing him. You are just staring at him with a slight smirk on your face and half-lidded eyes.

Nanami: Please never do that ever again.

His breath is still shaky. 

You: I thought you liked it...

Nanami: B But you were acting so differently out of nowhere. You kept touching me in a very intimate way!

You: Hmm? 

Your eyes are looking at his lips, and he feels his face burning up now. He tries to move his head away, but your hand is still holding his neck.

Nanami: Wait, please.

Before he can say anything else, you just close the gap, and you lean in to kiss him. The sound of his breathing suddenly filled his ears, since he couldn't say anything now.

The kiss felt really warm and sweet. At first, he feels hesitant to move his lips since he never expected this at all, but he slowly gives in to the kiss. He is so overwhelmed with different emotions now.

You taste alcohol. He likes it. He is responding to it.

The kiss feels perfect as he gradually returns the kiss. His lips feel even more soft against yours as your tongues start to touch in an intimate way.

All of a sudden, he felt a lightness in his body that he couldn't explain. For once, he felt like he could be himself in this moment. The emotions that have been suppressed for so long are now all unleashed at once in this moment between you two.

He can feel himself hardening against you.

You keep on kissing him. The passion in your kiss is so amazing, and he could not believe that you are making him feel like this since you are still his student.

Your bodies are now close together, and you can feel his soft hair against the side of your cheek. He feels the heat of your body as your tongues caress each other now.

After a few moments, you finally break apart from the kiss. He is looking away from you. Both of you are slightly breathing hard now, and your lips are still moist from the kiss.

You: You really like thag didntt youu

Nanami: I y-yes.

You notice that he looks away from you again, and he is still blushing. He is still trying to control how he feels at this moment. He couldn't believe that you were doing this with him while you were still a student.

You: It seems you have a thing for your students. 

Nanami: Oh god

He is starting to catch his breath again since you are getting so close to him. He is trying his best not to turn away now, since he also wants to lean in and kiss you again. He feels too awkward to look away, so he keeps staring you in the eyes.

He likes the way you are looking at him with that smirk on your face.

You are smiling at him, but Nanami pulls you closer and places his lips on you again. Now you both are kissing again. This time, it is even more intense. You feel your arms wrap around his neck again, since you don't want this moment to end now. You are just too turned on to stop yourselves now.

After a few moments, you both broke apart again from the kiss. You look down.

#jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jujutsu nanami #teacher x student #jjk kento #kento smut #kento x reader #candystories #student x professor #teacher x reader

[star-girl69]

Cruel World

Shin Hati x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: swearing, mentions of death and violence, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Two - Wretched Mirrors

Chapter Two - Wretched Mirrors

—-

There is a fine line between the worlds you have known. Sometimes, you wonder if it’s wrong to be like this, to search for power and materialistic things, but this is all you have ever known.

You are a wretched mirror of your mother, destined to reflect her and her wants.

You have gotten a taste of the cruel life, and you don’t want it. And if you don’t fight it, how will you cross that fine line? How will you get back to your old life?

The ruins are covered in fine black sand, random spots still burning. Random parts of old homes, with cracks in the walls lay strewn about the ground. You cannot help but wonder if those cracks were born of people living inside a well-loved home, or apart of the doom of the Nightsisters.

Shin kicks the ground, still adorned in her armor and a brown cloak- a wretched mirror of her master.

You crouch and pick up some of the black sand. It’s warm from the sun. You wonder if another Nightsister, hundreds of years ago, had done the same thing.

“What was this place?” Shin asks, stirring up dirt as she stands next to you. You squint up at her.

“The planet of Dathomir. Home to the Nightsisters.” You flick your hand, sending a small whirl of sand flying in a flash of green. “My ancestors.”

She watches the specks of sand fall back to the ground, before her eyes meet yours, a cutting glare.

“You’re a witch?”

“Yes,” you say, tilting your head to the side with a sticky-sweet smile. She glares at you and tilts her chin down, studying you, and it makes your stomach twist as much as it annoys you.

Your mother turns around, her eyes meeting yours, and you stand up, wind whipping your in your face.

“We are survivors,” she says to Shin. She turns back around as Baylan and a droid approaches.

You shoot one more sly smile to a now very disturbed Shin before listening to Baylan.

“There’s not much left back there,” he says, referring to the temple that held the star map. “Either the Jedi has the map or it was vaporized.”

You can see your mothers shoulders tense, and you heart squeezes, but she quickly regains herself and you try to do the same.

Shin takes a few careful steps forward, and you lean against the fallen pillar of some long forgotten building.

“She has it.”

“Well, if she does, you’re lucky.”

Morgan turns to Baylan, her grey-blonde hair shining in the sunlight.

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” she hisses. “Fate has decided our next move.”

She turns around to you and Shin. Her eyes are cold and calculating, always planning the next move so you don’t have to.

“You both will go to the planet Lothal.” Her eyes fix to you, and she smiles, if you can even call it that. More like some sort of promise. “May the Winged Goddess be with you, my daughter.”

“Mother-” you start, but your voice is eaten up by the wind, and she is already gone.

She walks off towards the ruins, leaving you slightly confused and shocked. Shin can surely do whatever it is herself, right? Why can’t you stay with your mother? What is on Lothal?

Shin seems to have the same questions, because she approaches Baylan. The two of them watch Morgan walk away, and you have to urge to kick the ground like a crying child.

“Master?”

“Do as she says.”

“Why Lothal?” she looks at you over her shoulder. “What thread is she spinning?”

“No, it’s not witchcraft,” Baylan sighs. “Ahsoka Tano’s former apprentice is on Lothal. You’re looking for Sabine Wren.”

Baylan meets Shin’s eyes, then yours, and the emptiness inside of you lights up with a fire at the sound of the Jedi’s name. The woman you imprisoned you and you mother- who has led you to this cruel new reality.

You flex your fingers, and Shin brushes the handle of her lightsaber, nodding to you as she walks past. And after a moment, you follow her.

—-

The ship is small and practical, but the memories of your mother’s look ring in your mind. It was a silent promise. Not to you, but one to her. Without even knowing it, you had promised to bring back the star map- but you didn’t even now if you could.

The droid takes over the ship, leaving you and Shin to sit in silence as you get closer and closer to Lothal.

You can feel her piercing eyes on you, judging you, and finally you turn to her after you’re sick of feeling like this. You already feel on edge, this test from your mother making you nervous and doubtful.

“What?” you spit after a moment. Her eyes remain wide and on you, her expression unchanging. “I’m not gonna use my magick on you if you look away, you know.”

She looks you up and down. “I know.”

You scoff and turn away. Both her and her master are overfilling with arrogance.

“Because your mother and my master are in an agreement. Which means we are too.”

You turn to her and level your best glare, but it’s nothing compared to hers. “And? Stop staring at me.”

“I’m wondering how your powers will work in battle.”

You shuffle your feet against the floor, crossing your arms, again feeling like a spoiled stupid child.

Your mother did not have a lot of time to teach you offensive magick. When the Empire fell, she had only taught you a bit beyond the basics- and now she was testing to see what you had learned.

“I’ll be fine,” you mutter. You don’t know if you will.

You did grow up spoiled and entitled, but this new cruel world has changed you more than you could ever imagine. After the death of the Nightsisters, you mother already had some sort of prebuilt humility, humanity inside of her. But she had buried it down. She had used that pain to make a life for you and her.

You were learning that hard lesson now.

“We’re close to Lothal, now,” Shin says, leaning back into her chair, a rare moment of softness for her. “We’ll send out the probe and then make a plan from there.”

You blink hard and try to take a subtle deep breath. It’s embarrassing to be like this in front of her. To be stupid and childish, to let simple feelings rise to the surface and effect your actions.

But something about her stupid blue eyes makes you feel at peace.

—-

You land on Lothal, waiting in the rustling brush for the probe droid to return. Here, back on solid ground, neither of you talk.

Maybe it’s the fact that you’re both young girls around the same age. It’s natural for you to be drawn together, two girls raised in between knives, brought up learning how to jump each serrated edge. And for all of the venom your tongue spits, you don’t bear any ill-will towards her.

Why jump from knife to knife when you can land on a silver spoon?

The probe flys up the hill and towards the two of you. Shin looks at her arm, the decide beeping, her cloak blowing in the wind.

“What is it?” you ask, eager to get this all over with.

“Sabine Wren,” she says simply. And you follow her, saying a prayer to the Winged Goddess that she knows what she’s doing- and you do as well.

—-

taglist:

@foreverforlove @squidshark5 @lovelyy-moonlight

#shin hati #shin hati x reader #shin hati x y/n #shin hati x you #ahsoka show #ashoka show x reader

[watcher-servant]

A Knight's Test

After the dam had bust and the outburst with Ruby, Jaune looked down at the water and the bridge. The screams of the people still echoing in the ears mixing with the sound of the water, as mist would start to rise and the ghostly whine of horse echoes. Jaune stands up, his face twisting in shock and turning to the other 3 before settling on Weiss.

Jaune: "Weiss, take Juniper and go with the others after Ruby."

Weiss: "Wait, what do you mean we should be going together?"

Jaune: "Weiss I'm begging you go with the others and take Juniper with you to find Ruby. She needs you more than me right now."

As he says thus Juniper would get close nuzzling against him

Jaune: *Pets her* I know, girl, but right now they need your speed and nose. I'll catch up when I can."

Weiss: "Jaune, are you -"

Jaune: * turns towards her face in anger* "GO NOW! He only wants me anyway, and there's no chance he'll let you interfere."

Weiss would approach Juniper as a small glyph that appears to shoot out a chain to create makeshift reins. Yang and Blake would hop on Juniper's back as the four of them would ride off. Juniper would call back jaune, wanting to stay at his side, but knows she cannot.

Jaune: *Turns to the mist as he would draw sword getting into a stance as rain droplets start to come down* "Come on....I'm right here."

From the mist, another whine of a horse is heard as walking ethereally across the water appears a knight clad in black armor with a horned helm on horseback. The horse snorts puff of smoke as the knights visor act as it eyes showing that glowing red pupils at Jaune

???: "Finally done running, Rusted Knight?"

Jaune: "Yes...I am."

???: "Do you know who I am?"

Jaune: *Lowers his stance slightly* "I do...well, I know the legends...the stories, but I didn't want to believe. I thought it was just my mind playing tricks, but I need to accept what I'm looking at."

???: "Then say it. Say my name."

Jaune: "....Spirit of Chivalry!!"

A bright flash of lightening lightens up his form as azure flames would appear casting the spirit's grisly and dark form in the light of a phantom.

S.O.C: "Indeed I am he, and who are you vagrant knight? You who lost his path clinging to the past acting a shield knowing in truth its nothing more than your shackles? Tell me vagrant...WHO ARE YOU?"

Jaune: "I....I'm Jaune Arc, only son of Nick Arc. A family of warriors that served as guradians and knights for generations."

S.O.C: "Ah...a legacy then. However, a knight doesn't stand before me. What I see is nothing more than a coward boy playing fantasy. There is hope, though, for I see a spark no matter how small or how fleeting I shall test you to see if you possess strength."

Jaune: "Strength...what strength? I've trained and pushed myself to improve so I could protect everyone! Yet.....yet when I thought I reached a good spot, it all slipped through my fingers. I wasn't strong enough....I never was."

S.O.C: "Foolish Boy!" *His horse would stomp its hoof as lighting would crash down* "Strength does not come from physical form alone, blind reliance on it shows your weakness. You may be dammed like me, faltering when the crucial moment comes....I've seen countless disappointments like this, and all met their end with my blade."

*As he says this, multiple warriors and knights would appear in the mist looking on the new victim of their lord's trial*

S.O.C: "Be it blade or shield, lance or ax, no matter how grand or well made they are it holds no power if the weilder lacks inner strength to use it. No victory is won with just muscle it must be backed by mettle and focus. Now show me your resolve...show me what lies within your soul. Or else you'll fall here....AS YOUR LIFE BECOMES NOTHING BUT RUST ON MY BLADE!!!"

*A flash of red would appear on his gauntlet as a sword handle would grow from it. Gripping it and unsheate it showing a blade that glows with dark energy. With a loud whine of his horse, spectral spears fly down from the sky, making jaune dodge backward. Jaune would come out a bit unscathed, leaving him no room to breathe between them. The S.O.C would appear before him swinging his blade down, shattering Jaune's shield and gauntlet. Letting out a cry of agony, Jaune would try to counter with a slash only for it to meet the spirits blade, causing a flash of blue light breaking the remains of crocea mors and destroying his other gauntlet. The S.O.C would let out a mirthful chuckle as his horse would knock Jaune back.*

S.O.C: "Yes that's it! Show me your resolve, your will to fight! Show me how hard you're willing to push yourself to achieve even the slightest of victory!" *His horse would let out another whine as it dances back as more spears would rain at Jaune.*

*Jaune would dodge the barrage but would take some hits as the spars would hit his leg armor, destroying them both. With no chance to counter the S.O.C. would come in for another swing of his sword, destroying Jaune's plate mail and with a follow-up slash destroying his helmet.*

*Jaune would be sent tumbling back as his vision would darken with his shallow breathing. He considered laying there and letting his death happen, but then a myriad of voices would come to him as memories would play in his mind. Pyrrha's smiling encouragement, her sacrifice as he was helpess to stop her. Penny's words of reassurance, her sacrifice, he was forced to assist... and despair. Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang....Nora, Ren, Oscar, stilling waiting on the other side in Vacuo. They would need him... Winter as well, they need allies. He just needs to stand up and survive.....but should he fall here, what's left? What would happen to a broken team RWBY, would they make it out alive with their sanity intact?. He had to help those in the Ever After....it was his duty as the Rusted Knight.

S.O.C: "Foolish child, you cling to a false prophet. The Rusted Knight is a hollow soul, his armor rusted because he does not possess the strength to stand on his own and take care of himself. He does not trust others, but a true knight does not treat his oath as shackles to hold themselves down. They are treated as reminders to boost himself, perhaps had you not feel sorry for yourself instead of steeling your resolve until no problem couldn't stop you, then maybe you would've succeeded and survived. Now stand up, and face your death like a proper knight."

*Jaune would slowly pull himself up as a spear would come down, piercing his chest. As he coughs up blood, his vision would darken as the voices of more poisonous comments come to mind. His father's words saying knights are no longer needed, no worry to continue the legacy. The derisive words of all the people at Beacon and Qrow's harsh words*

Jaune: *Thoughts* "Then...if they were stronger than him why aren't they here. Why am I the only one standing?"

????: "You know the answer....for those in the dark who's voices aren't heard. For the fiends that would slink back into the shadows thinking they're safe."

*A small light would come through the shaft of the spectral spear making jaune look down. It was small and it flickering, he had to reach it...to strengthen it. Jaune would grab the spear trying to force his aura through it slowly but surely making the light grow.*

*Outside the S.O.C would look down at the man, his body still skewered by the spear. His head looking down as if dead.*

S.O.C: "A true knight isn't strong because of their weapon. The only thing they would need is the balance of strength and will to their mettle. You have failed child of Arc...fall into the shadows and take your spot along with crowd of lost warriors." *Turns away from Jaune's body only to stop as sense a pulse*

*Back with Jaune in his mind, the glowing in the spear shined bright like a star as it would crumble absorbing into his body. The dark landscape would would reel back from the light forming into another figure wearing grey armor as he places his hand on Jaune's chest.*

???: "You are close...don't forget those that trust you why we still fight."

Ren's Voice: "Despite everything, when I look at him, Yang, I see no fear in his heart."

????: "Now come we have test to past!" *The armored figure would force his hand into Jaune's chest, making him scream as light would engulf them both*

*Back in the real world, the spectral spear that held Jaune's body would crumble, absorbing into his body as light sparkles would come from his body*

S.O.C: *Turns back seeing the light coming from Jaune* "Hmmm has he figured it out*

Jaune: *Screams out as energy would cloak his right arm, forming a flickering blade of aura... yet despite the bright color and fragile appearance there's a hint of black keeping it stable* "I'm not done yet...there's still much more for me to do *Points his new blade at the spirit*

S.O.C: "Hmm so you come to me bearing new power...very well let's see if it's enough! *Would pull his arm back blade ready to strike as his horse would kick the ground ready to go*

*Jaune would get into a stance ready for anything as the horse would rear up and speed towards him the S.O.C ready to strike. Both warriors would run to each blades ready to strike as they would even clash with a loud boom.*

*Meanwhile, other parts of the Ever After would shake and rumble as the residents would turn towards a large column of black and white would pierce the sky scattering the rain clouds. With Ruby and little, both would feel the ground shake as they look to the column. With the curious cat, it would hiss at the column feeling a dangerous intruder over there. With WBY, as they rode Juniper, they would stop seeing the column, hoping Jaune is fine.*

*Back at the mist covered area Jaune and S.O.C would have their backs to each other as Jaune would fall down trying to keep himself up*

S.O.C: "Good...very good" *As he says this, one of the horns on his helm would crack and fall down. On his chest, it would bear a gash showing a eerie blue* "Your light has shine strongly, you walk the path of Sigurd, slayer of demons....no I sense darkness in your blade as well. You walk the path Taivas, warrior that overcame a infecting darkness making it hos own. Do you why I say this....what did they have in common?

Jaune: *Gets up and turns to the spirit* "They didn't lose their way...so nothing could hold him"

S.O.C: *Turns his horse towards jaune* "Very good you have passed my trial young arc come close wield your new blade." *Holds his sword out towards Jaune*

Jaune: *Summons his new sword feeling the aura cloak his entire hand as it makes the flickering line of aura and clash it with the knight's own blade*

S.O.C: "Hear me now young arc, fear and doubt only leads to death. One that doesn't acknowledge his faults doesn't deserve to be called a knight...however with you understanding this and making peace with yourself, have shown you have earned it. Do not forget this lesson if you do I will come after you again*

*With his peace said the S.O.C would disappear in a flash of light as the mist would finally clear up*

Jaune: *Turns towards the water, looking at his reflection....then back at his new sword. Grabbing his ponytail, he would hold it enough as he used the new aura sword to cut the pony tail off. Looking down at it showing it still holds the last remnants of Pyrrha's sash, Jaune would let it fall from his hand into the water, making it disperse* "Goodbye Pyrrha....Goodbye Penny."

*Jaune would turn only to be greater by another armored figure. Waiting to see if they would try something, the armored figure only plants his greatsword in salute before disappearing, leaving the blade. Jaune, confused by what he saw, walks up, grabbing the blade as it turns into a hooded button-up grey coat.*

Jaune: *Thinking on it for a bit, he would put on the coat buttoning up near his mouth, making it look like a cape* "Time to make amends....and to catch up." *Starts walking towards the dark Acre sensing Ruby and the others in that direction as he would put the hood up*

#jaune arc #rwby #weiss schnee #rwby volume 9 #writing ideas #final fantasy reference #Odin FFXIV

[thedo0zyslider]

Hidden In The Orchard (My Lover Waits For Me) - 12k Words

Jimmy is a prince of a kingdom, Fwhip is just the son of a poor potato farmer. Yet somehow, they still meet, and fall head over heels in what seems to be an instant.

A03 Link

Jimmy walks by his parents, shifting uncomfortably in the layered outfit he had been forced to adorn that day, as he normally wore rather light clothing. But they’d been heading north, where it was colder, and merfolk, unused to any cold, often couldn’t handle it, or whatever. His father had given some stupid reason like that, and had forced his son into the outfit regardless. Jimmy would be taking the coat off as soon as he got out of his parents' sights, and he would not be putting it back on. (They weren’t even in the mountains yet, but parents had to parent he supposed.)

His sister trails in front of him, happily wavering to any villagers they pass. The only water source this one town has is a river, despite being under the merfolks wide jurisdiction, so it’s not often the people get to see their rulers. As a result, more than a few people were ogling them, especially Jimmy and his mother, the two codfolk of the family, A species of merfolk that didn’t venture out of the swamps much, resulting in some people thinking they had gone extinct entirely. Well, until the future king had married one that was.

Jimmy does his best to wave as well, but cannot help but feel uncomfortable. He should be used to it. Codfolk got stared at whenever they weren’t in a swamp, but he still wasn’t. Even if some of the people around the place did much nastier things than stare at him. (Never in front of his parents, or Lizzie, not when all three had much more influence than he did. Though Jimmy had influence, he was just too nice and tended to fold like wet paper. As Joel had put it once.)

Though a few of the people do catch his eye, even despite all the staring. The village they’ve taken a pitstop in seems to be a rather mixed one, full of more rare hybrids, especially for an empire founded and made mostly of his people. There is one boy in particular, one who looks about his age, that really catches the young prince’s eye.

The boy seems to be a dragon hybrid of sorts, a more rare type of hybrid to see around, one bright ginger hair. And quite the nice looking face, if Jimmy does say so himself. He’s tall, lanky, and looks to be around the prince’s age. Beside him is a girl, one that looks so similar to him, Jimmy determines the two must be siblings. Maybe even twins, for how their facial structures seem to be near mirrors of each other. They are each carrying a small basket, one full of potatoes, Jimmy finds upon closer inspection. The two must belong to a farmer family then, to be carrying such a large load of crops in. 

As he watches, Jimmy sees the boy stumble over a small patch of uneven ground. A few potatoes tumble to the floor, since the basket is full and loaded to the brim. Yet the young farmer seems to not notice, focusing on further keeping his balance and yelling something back to his sister up ahead. 

Jimmy stops in his tracks, the action thankfully unnoticed by his family. The prince walks over to the dropped crops, feeling as if he can’t just let the poor things he left there to rot. Especially if these people are farmers, and the potatoes are their source of income. When one his parents or Lizzie's voice doesn't call him back after a few more seconds, the cod feels safe enough to go through with helping this villager. 

“Here, you dropped this.” Jimmy calls out, picking up the stray potatoes from the ground. The boy looks between him and the misplaced crops in surprise, before the metaphorical light bulb goes off in his head, and he reaches forward to take them back, being careful of his still very full basket. One that is now clutched in one arm, much to the young codfolks' slight anxiety, but the other seems to have a secure hold on it, thankfully.

“Oh! Thank you!” He flashes a smile at the prince, and their hands brush briefly as he takes the potatoes back. Jimmy has to stop his breath from hitching, and feels the sparks at even the tiniest touch with this pretty stranger.

“No problem!” He smiles in return, catching a good look of the boy's bright blue eyes. Jimmy decides that they're rather pretty, like the rest of him. He watches the young farmer carefully place the crops back in the basket, happy no more are spilled. And he wants to say more, the prince really really does, but he is sadly interrupted before he can do so. 

His father's finally voice calls from a few feet ahead, and Jimmy has to stop his tail from flicking in annoyance. He would like to stay here and chat some more, this guy is really pretty! And probably really interesting too! But disobedience like that isn't really an option, and that is a fact Jimmy has come to know well. 

He gives the farmer boy once last smile and wave, his heart dropped as he does so. The ginger returns it, something glistening in his gaze. Maybe he also shares disappointment at how short their meeting was, maybe he also wants to talk to the prince more. But that is only a hope, for he cannot know for certain, and maybe the dragon is just happy to be finally left alone. 

Jimmy walks back, only sparring a small glance behind his shoulder. He tries not to make his tail droop, especially when Lizzie starts talking to him. The prince is told how nice of an act that was, but to please stay with his family and the few guards lingering around as they walk. In case he gets lost or something happens to him. The young cod nods, shifting uncomfortably in his clothes once again, and knows that information will be forgotten as soon as his family shuts their mouths. 

An hour or two later, the prince had managed to sneak off again. The family finally had some free time to spare, and instead of exploring the local shops with his family, Jimmy had started back down their path from earlier. He was sure all the stores up ahead were lovely, really he was, but his mind was set on a certain someone from earlier. His mind was set on that pretty looking farmer boy, and the blonde knew he had to go back and see him again. It was a feeling he had, that the two of them needed to meet for more than a brief second, something about the ginger drawing him in even when the two weren't anywhere near each other. 

After somewhere between ten to twenty minutes of walking and backtracking, he sees the young dragon hybrid again. The boy’s back is too him, his ginger hair alight in the afternoon sun. His sister from earlier had disappeared, presumably going inside for the day, maybe to handle that basket of fresh crops from earlier. That leaves her twin outside, herding in two dogs to the backdoor of his house. The prince has to fight back a smile as he approaches, watching the other with intrigue, though he doesn’t think he controls his expression very well.

“Ah, it’s you again!” Jimmy says, caching sight of that pretty farmer boy from earlier as he walks. The other jumps, and his face lights up with surprise once he turns and sees who it was that had called for him. If the cod is not mistaken, the boy seems decently intimidated as well. Which is fair, he supposes, because he is the prince of the whole kingdom after all.

“Oh um, hello your highness!” The boy from earlier jumps, his tail flicking in surprise. “Nice to see you again!” The ginger flashes a smile at him, one resembling the one he'd given before. Jimmy decided he rather likes this guy, and maybe he likes that dazzling little smile just as much if not a bit more. 

“No need for the formalites.” The blonde says with a slight shake of his head. He doesn't really like when people get all formal and serious with him, especially when it's someone he just met. Especially when it's someone he would rather like to be friends with. 

“Right okay, um,” The boy says, seeming to trip over his own words out of nervousness. “Your name's Jimmy, right?” He asks, likely having heard the name of all four royals at one point before in his life. Well hopefully he knew the names of the people ruling his kingdom, because Jimmy had concerningly run into some people who didn't. 

“Yes! It is! What's yours?” He smiles, making a pleased clapping motion with his hands. His tail flicks behind him happily, which the boy seems to notice. He smiles at the movement, before his eyes move back to Jimmy’s face. 

“Fwhip!” He nods, any earlier nervousness seeming to fade just a bit. “My name's Fwhip!” The cod next to him smiles at that, and gives his own nod in return. That was quite the unique name, if he had to say so himself. It's certainly not something he'd ever heard before, and probably wouldn't hear anything like it again. It just made the ginger more alluring to him, really. 

"How old are you?" Fwhip asks, giving the taller boy a curious glance over. It was natural for people to be uncertain about a merfolks age, for their species could get rather tall and was known for their sudden growth spurts. It was a question Jimmy had gotten before, and would probably get again until he'd left those awkward teenage growing years. Which would be soon hopefully, since he was nearing adulthood and all. 

"Seventeen." He answers, now wanting to know the others out of pure curiosity. Fwhip looks to be about his age, maybe older, if the slight stubble starting to form on his chin says anything. They're definitely in the same age range though, which is fun. Jimmy never meets a lot of people his age, and the ones he does he can't really talk casually too. They're all either way too formal with him, or they are sadly other royals themselves 

"Sixteen, but my birthday's tomorrow. So I'm technically seventeen." Fwhip says with a nonchalant shrug, his own tail flicking from side to side, just like the cod's had started too a few minutes before. Their tails bump slightly, and the two boys exchange a laugh, before continuing their conversation.

Jimmy hums in response. "Well I'll still be in town tomorrow, so I must stop by and get you something!" He exclaims, the smile that had formed before widening ever so slightly. The cod was already brainstorming a way to get said gift, which mainly included a way to sneak away from his family once again. A task that sounded tricker than it truly was, probably, hopefully. 

"Oh no, your highness, you don't need to!" Fwhip stumbled over his words, struggling to get his response out. "Really it's fine " He sounded genuine, and maybe a little embarrassed that someone of such high status would even think to get him a gift, even though it was his birthday!

"I insist!” Jimmy said, not having it any other way. It was gonna be his birthday! He couldn't just not get Fwhip anything on his birthday! That was the whole point of birthdays! "I'd feel bad if I knew it was your birthday and didn't get anything." He explained, hoping his clear passion for the occasion game through in his voice as well as his expression. 

Apparently, it did, because Fwhip just blinked at him. "Oh." The farmer boy muttered, seeming a bit caught off guard by the prince's insistence. And if the blonde wasn’t mistaken, there was even a slight blush starting to dust his freckled cheeks. (Which was adorable, really, in Jimmy’s entirely humble and totally unbiased opinion.) 

"And drop the your highness stuff please? I hate that." He once again reminds Fwhip to be less formal with him, though Jimmy doesn't blame him for forgetting. It will not be the first or last time he has to do so, and the cod has expected that he will be doing that correction until the day he dies. Not that he minds, if it gets people to stop being so formal around him and start being more friendly. 

Fwhip’s shoulders seem to sag in relief, and he flashes a dazzling smile up at the cod prince. "I hate saying it." He admits, and somehow their already friendly conversation gets even more friendly. Maybe because now, for one of the first times ever, Jimmy feels like he’s being talked too as his own person, not just some prince. Not just some guy who was important for what he himself felt was no good reason. He was a person, talking to another person the same age as him, and that feeling was something the blonde found he greatly enjoyed. 

"Now, what kinda stuff do you like?" Jimmy asks, maybe a bit too early. But he cannot help it, because he is so curious about this guy. He wants to know everything about this little farmer kid, he finds. He wants to know him better than he knows his sister and his parents, better than the prince knows even himself.

"Why?" Fwhip tilts his head to the side, as if puzzled, and his tail swishes curiously. It seems he had forgotten what they were literally just talking about, which was rather silly of him. And maybe it was also a little endearing of him as well, to the codfolk anyways.

"For your birthday present." Jimmy cannot help but smile as he gives the simple explanation, and cannot help how the look widens a monet later. Fwhip blushes a little, still surprised that a guy he would just met would get a gift for him. Even though its going to be his birthday.

"Oh, um," The farmer starts out uncertainly, then eventually devolves into a minutes long rant about all his interest and hobbies, stuff he’s very clearly passionate about; and also clearly has no one to really talk with it about either. Fwhip’s very into engineering and tinkering, as he tells Jimmy. It’s honestly adorable, how passionate he is about the subject. The prince thinks he could listen to this guy ramble and talk for hours and hours and would never tire of it, truly he does. And, this whole conversation gives him a pretty good idea for a birthday gift, on top of getting to listen to this guy's wonderful sounding voice.

Though eventually, after around an hour of just hanging around and talking, Jimmy knows he will have to leave. His family's allotted free time is coming to an end, meaning the prince will have to head back soon. Lest his parents finally realize he’s missing and start a panic over it. So with a slightly heavy heart, he parts his new dragon friend goodbye. But not before something secret is given to him, something that’s going to make the night ahead a whole lot better than it was originally going to be.

Fwhip slips him a note as they part, one Jimmy can only read when he is finally free of his family's presence once again. One that reads to meet him in the nearby orchard, two hours after the sun goes down. The prince can't help the buzz of excitement that follows through him when he reads it, and cannot wait until the sun finally disappears from the sky. 

Two hours after the sunset, just as he was directed, Jimmy is jumping out of his guest window, the one at the place his family was staying at for the night. It’s quite a nice place, and the prince laments that he won’t get to spend much time in the rather comfortable bed it possesses. But he has somewhere more important to go, someone far more important to see. Fwhip is already waiting for him probably, and he needs to get there before he goes back in, or thinks that the cod will not be coming and they never see each other again. 

He makes his way through the now dark little village, keeping to the shadows just in case he is spotted. He makes a correct guess, that the orchard is near Fwhip’s house. Though even if it wasn’t the place wouldn;t have been too hard to find in the end, considering this village is on the smaller side. And the fact that orchards tend to be quite big places, especially if they want to make any profit at all. 

  The prince reaches the aforementioned orchard, and starts to weave his way uneasily through the trees. The blonde does so until he has to be about halfway through the maze of apple trees, and then he sees a light. Instantly, he picks up the pace, beeling for what seems to be the low light of a lantern. And when he reaches his destination, Fwhip there waiting for him, his wings folded in on themselves as the ginger leans against one of the apple trees. 

Once both boys spot each other, their faces light up brighter than the light from the lantern ever could. Jimmy is by Fwhip’s side at an instant, in his personal space without even a thought or a care in the world, for all that matters now is the boy in front of him. The farmer says nothing, just flashes that dazzling smile from before back up at him, and the cod prince thinks he’s going to melt and die, it’s so cute on him; that smile is.

"Why'd you want to meet me here?" Jimmy asks, not noticing how he shuffles closer to the other boy, doing so almost on instinct. Fwhip doesn’t seem to care that they’re so close, close enough for their shoulders to brush. He seems to relish it actually, and the blonde can't deny that he feels similarly about it.

Fwhip shrugged casually, piercing him with those pretty blue eyes once again. "I feel like I should. Like I shouldn't just let you leave." He mumbled, sounding a little embarrassed by the fact. Jimmy felt a sudden surprise color his face at the words, and he shuffled closer to the other once more.

"Yeah, yeah I get that too." He said in response, his tone quiet just like the dragon hybrid’s was, to match the mood. They would probably want to be quiet in the orchard too, since there were houses of sleeping people decently nearby. "This feels too important to just let go, somehow." 

"Besides," Fwhip smirks ever so slightly, Jimmy getting to see his mischievous looks for the first time. He thinks that kind of look looks right on this guy. "You're rather pretty. I'd hate to let a pretty guy slip away without at least flirting with him." The farmer boy leans in as he speaks, teasingly, enticingly. Jimmy can’t help but smirk at him in return, and lean in further as well.

"You're not so bad yourself."  He purrs, feelings his tail flick around Fwhip’s legs. The other glances down for just a second, before his eyes flick back to meet Jimmy’s. The look his new friend has is dangerous, and maybe the cod wants to lose himself in it just a little bit. 

Glad you think so~" Fwhip flirts further, leaning back as fast as he had leaned forward. Jimmy has to hold back a frown at that, though it is a frown that wouldn’t have stayed for long. Medium sized wings puff out, hiding them a little bit more from the world. The prince feels a thrill of something go through him, and has to stop himself from leaning in and chasing the other and all his fleeting flirts.

"Is that all you're going to do, charm me?" Jimmy can't help but giggle, Fwhip’s wings managing to cover most of the area around them. The two, along with the lantern, haven been entirely enclosed in their own little world. A world neither of the boys will want to be leaving anytime soon, and certainly aren't planning on doing so. Not for a few hours, at least.

The ginger lets out a giggle, leaning in slightly again as another tease. "I planned to get to know you a little more, then I'd charm you." He moves back quickly, just as Jimmy thought he would, and he wonders what would happen if neither of them pulled away. 

"Well, we have all night." The prince says with a cheeky grin, folding his hands behind his back. Something lights up in Fwhip's eyes, as he returns the look he's given in full force, his face prettier and brighter than even the morning sun. 

And it was all night they spent together, in the darkness of that little apple orchard. They chatted and talked, with even more flirts sprinkled in there, for hours upon hours. The two were there even though both of them had to be deathly tired, the only thing keeping them alert and awake being the other person beside them. It was everything to the prince, it was wonderful, and he wouldn't trade it for the world. 

The two of them start walking back, the flirts now having advanced into hesitant touch. In one hand, Fwhip carries the lantern, holding it out ahead of them. In his other he holds Jimmy’s hand, their fingers interlocking. The prince thinks about it again, and has to stop his breath from hitching and his face flushing red. The dragon's wings are also spread still, one comfortably wrapped around Jimmy. The cod finds this whole thing rather sweet, and it adds to Fwhip's charm factor. Which isn't exactly hard , everything the ginger does is charming to him. 

After a minute or so of thinking, Jimmy stops, remembering something the farmer boy had said earlier. Fwhip looks puzzled as he stops beside him, all while a sly smile forms on the cod's face. "You said you were going to flirt with me at least. So what's the most you're going to do?" He asks, and brings himself closer to the other. The dragon's eyes light up with something, and a shiver involuntary runs down the prince's spine. 

Fwhip smirks, and leans forward for what has to be the hundredth time that night. "Kiss you, maybe. If you're up for it." He mutters, their noses starting to bump ever so slightly. Neither of them have pulled away, and this is what happens. Jimmy holds back an amused giggle, feeling a hand come to cup his chin. 

"I'm more than up for it." He says in response, lowering his voice to a low murmur, almost a whisper. His own hands find purchase on the gingers waist, resting comfortably against the fabric of his rather worn clothes. Fwhip smirks again, clearly pleased with himself. 

"Good." The dragon hybrid whispers against his lips, before closing the gap between them. It's a wonderful first kiss, a chaste one. Fwhip’s lips are warm against his, and taste heavenly sweet. The hand on his cheek tilts the prince's head further, deepening the kiss in the process, and Jimmy feels his knees go a little weak. He's died and gone to heaven, he has to have, to be experiencing something this amazing. 

They pull away after a few moments, both of their faces flushed a decent amount of red. Fwhip can't help it, and lets a small giggle slip past his lips. A happy laugh, one full of all the joy in the world. Soon enough, Jimmy is laughing along with him, their hands becoming intertwined once again. He felt like he was floating, like he was on cloud nine. Fwhip grips his hand tighter, squeezing it affectionately, and he leans in until their foreheads bump together, both of them still laughing.

After that, the two of them have to pull away once again, and continue their walk home. Once they reach the main road it is nearing sunset, within the next hour and a half at least. Their parting is supposed to be sad, maybe even bittersweet, and the last time they see each other. But before he goes, Jimmy leans in and whispers to Fwhip. He tells the ginger to stay up for a little while longer, for he has a surprise in store. Before the other cab protest, he is gone and disappearing down the road, determined like he never has been before. 

Jimmy is only in his guest room for maybe ten minutes, getting no sleep in that really comfortable bed. By early morning he is sneaking out again, birthday gift in hand as he heads towards Fwhip’s house. He said he was getting this kid a birthday gift, and he meant it!

He'd bought the gift earlier, on his way back to their guest house that evening. It was something he was sure Fwhip would like, based on what the dragon had told him anyways. The gift was wrapped the best it could, that being only a small white box with no ribbon or tissue paper. It was all the prince could grab on such short notice really, and he prayed Fwhip wouldn’t mind too much. 

Before the prince knows it, he's reached the ginger's house. There is an open window on the side, on the second story, and Jimmy hopes that Fwhip left it open for him. Because that's the way he's getting in. Even if it is technically illegal. 

He uses his extra height to his advantage, grabbing onto the window sill with some difficulty. The codfolk hauls himself up, keeping the present tightly pressed to his chest, so it doesn't fall. And when the blonde finally gets most of him  through the window, with maybe a few parts of his clothes now dirtied and torn, he is face to face with the one person he had hoped to see the most. 

“Hi.” He whispers, staring into Fwhip’s pretty blue eyes once again. Despite the slight shock displayed on his face, the dragon hybrid smiles back at him, and warmth floods through every inch of Jimmy’s being. 

“Hello there.” Fwhip mutters, fondness undeniable in his voice. He tugs the cod a little, helping him get through the window properly. The farmer doesn't let go, not until Jimmy has his balance properly again, and the two of them are standing face to face once more. 

The prince smiles, feeling the slightest blush start to form on his face. “Happy birthday.” He hands the box out to Fwhip, averting his eyes bashfully as he does so. A hand brushes the blonde's, and his friend takes the box slowly, as if in some kind of shock. 

“You actually got me something.” Fwhip mutters quietly, sounding astonished as he turns the gift box in his hands. Jimmy moves his gaze away from the floor, just in time to watch his friend unbox it. The dragon holds it so delicately, like it's the most precious thing he's ever seen. Like it's something that needs to be persevered in a museum. 

“Well, go on,” Jimmy says, unable to hold back the smallest of smiles. “Open it.” Fwhip nods in favor of a verbal response, seemingly far too touched to speak anymore. He moves to the side a little, so he can place the lid of the box onto his nightstand after he removes it. Though Fwhip soon has to stop from dropping the whole box in surprise, fumbling with it in his hands. 

Inside the box is a pair of goggles, ones with red lenses. They had been rather expensive, but Jimmy had the money (being rich had its perks, ya know). And once he saw them in that ship window, he'd thought of Fwhip instantly, and knew he had to get them for the ginger. They were gonna be the perfect birthday gift, he'd just known it. And to his delight, it seems his hunch was right. If Fwhip’s utter joy and disbelief was anything to go off of, anyways. 

“Oh Jimmy….you shouldn't have!” The ginger says, taking the gift out of its box. He turns them around in his hands in awe, such a wide smile beginning to form on his face. He places them on his head for a brief second, to see if they fit okay. And they do, from what Jimmy can tell, and even if they didn’t, he would happily buy a better fitting pair, no matter the amount of money he would have to spend.

“But I did.” The prince responds after a moment, having been distracted by just watching the other. The sight was that memoizing to him, it so happened. “Just for you.” His small smile from earlier had gotten earlier, and it is then he realizes he’s basically been grinning the entire night, for Fwhip made him so happy. The thought made him smile more, and he watched the dragon carefully remove the goggles, and place them back in the box they’d been brought in. He smiles still, even as Fwhip hides the box hastily under his bed, likely to keep the now dear possession safe.

Fwhip turns back to the cod, and before he knows what happens, the other is right in front of him once again. Warm arms wrap around his neck, and the farmer boy pulls Jimmy into a hug. Their first hug, one that is warm, warmer than any the prince had ever received before. “Thank you.” Fwhip mutters, burying his face into the crook of the cod’s neck, his breath landing right near his gills. Jimmy tries not to shudder at the feeling, and lets his own arms embrace the other in return. 

“You're welcome.” He responds, feeling himself start to melt into Fwhip’s never ending warmth. “I just thought you could need some protection, especially if you're pursuing engineering more.” The cod explains his thought process behind the gift, going to idly rest his chin on top of the others head. The gesture is always something Lizzie does to him, so once Jimmy has an opportunity to do so as well, he takes it without any thought at all. Thankfully, Fwhip doesn’t seem to mind at all. He seems to enjoy it, in fact, keening into the touch like he was starving for it his whole life.

“Thank you.” The dragon hybrid repeats his earlier words, pulling back a bit, just so they were able to look at each other's faces again. Arms still stayed wrapped around his neck, which Jimmy was grateful for, because he didn’t want this moment to end, not yet anyways. “I'd been wanting these for months, but could never find the money to get them.”

“Well, that makes me all the more happy I got them for you.” Jimmy said, reaching down so he could press a fleeting kiss into his friend’s auburn locks. Fwhip giggles at that, and places a return peck on his cheek, the contact burning like a small fire against his scales. 

“What did I do to deserve you.” The farmer boy says, his gaze now being filled with something. It’s that fond look again, one Jimmy knows he has already given to the other a million times over. A look he is getting used too, and a look he is learning to love seeing. He wants to see it a thousand times more, for the rest of his life even, it is that spectacular. 

“Be your wonderful self, that's what.” The prince mutters back in earnest, finding that their faces are now close once again. Too close to be anything friendly. Once he notices, Jimmy has to try and keep his gaze locked with Fwhip’s, instead of flicking it down to his lips instead. He doesnt think he does a good job of it, but the effort is what counts.

“.....You're wonderful too, you know that?” The other doesn’t seem to notice, only leaning in closer, seeming to be drawn in by an unseen magnetic field that laid between them. They both hold back another giggle at their noses bump, staring into each other’s eyes with an emotion so warm and full, it can only be one thing.

“I think I'm in love with you.” It’s Jimmy who breathes the words out, the realization coming to him as actually as breathing, instead of that large, shell shocking one all those romance novels would describe. 

Fwhip smiles up at him, and mutters back, he mutters back some of the best words Jimmy thinks he’s ever heard. “I think I am too, somehow.” Joy fills the cod from head to toe once he hears that, but he can only bask in that feeling for a moment, for their wonderful night is about to be brought to an unfortunate close.

There is a sudden shuffling in another room, shuffling that indicates a person. It has to be, the creature making it sounds far too big to be the dogs Jimmy had seen that afternoon. Both of them jump in near unison, drawn out of their own little world by the noise, and having to wonder if they had woken someone up by accident. “I gotta leave.” The codfolk hisses through gritted teeth, turning to look out the window. The sun is starting to rise, a light purple already beginning to dust the horizon. He stalks back, taking long and hurried strides. Jimmy knows he needs to go, before someone catches them, before they both get in deep trouble.

“Will you ever come back?” Fwhips asks, following him to the window. At the question, the prince stops, sitting halfway out the window, and goes to get what is possibly one of his last looks at the boy in front of him. The dragon’s gaze is hopeful, desperate, full of pain. The blonde thinks he’s going to shatter right then and there, it hurts him so much to see.

“I don't know.” Jimmy looks at him, uncertain at how to answer that. He and his family have quite the long trip ahead of them, and many more towns to visit. It is entirely possible they will not use this path for their return journey, and he will never see this person again. He knows that’s what's probably going to happen, as much as it breaks his heart, he will never see this wonderful village again, and the boy in front of him will vanish with it in less than an hour. 

“Kiss me again? Before you go?” Fwhip asks, reaching out and tugging on his sleeve; maybe doing so more than a little desperately. It’s funny, how attached they are to each other after just one single day, but that is something to ponder over later.

Jimmy smiles down at him, feeling his heart soften further for this boy. “I was already planning on it.” The prince mutters, and can see the way Fwhip lights up in joy. He leans down, careful from where he sits on the window, and the dragon hybrid meets him halfway. Their final kiss is as long as they dare to make it, sweet and fleeting and never enough. They pull away at the sound of more stirring in another room, just as their breaths start to run out. Jimmy wants to go back in for another, yet he knows he has to go. Lest his parents find them before Fwhip’s do.

He gives the ginger one last look, one that he hopes says everything he cannot right now, and then continues his descent out the window. Jimmy lands on the grass below, barely managing to regain his balance again before slipping off into the receding darkness of the early morning. He does not look behind him, because Jimmy knows that if he does, he will never be able to leave this place. The prince does not look back, but can feel Fwhip’s gaze, one just as torn as his own, following him the whole way back and then some.

____________________

The years go by fast, and Jimmy gets older. He turns twenty, finally becoming old enough to do something other than sit there and listen to his parents' orders on how to be a good prince. Though doing something is not much, considering Lizzie is the oldest, and therefore set to become the ruler of their kingdom one day. But even as his duties pile up, the prince still thinks about being seventeen again. He still thinks about that red haired boy he;d left in the village, and his heart longs to return to that wonderful night they’d shared together. 

His parents offer him suitors, other princesses from other kingdoms. And Jimmy is not interested. He wouldn't have if they were princes, either. His heart is still with the boy from the village, even three years later. His heart is still with those shining blue eyes, soft lips and warm smiles in the darkness of an apple orchard. 

Yet one day, three long years later, those warm blue eyes return to him. They return to the prince in the most unconventional, yet perfect way possible. They return to him with the sound of his study’s window being pried open, and the greeting of a wonderful and familiar voice, one that makes his whole being ache with long buried longing.

The prince turns around, surprised by the voice. A voice he'd never thought he'd  hear again, but is all the more delighted to. “Fwhip!?" Jimmy exclaims, not believing what he sees. There, standing before him, is Fwhip, having climbed in through his window; much like the prince himself had done all those years before on his seventeenth birthday. 

 "Yeah, it's me!" The man says, and even though he is a little older, it is still Fwhip, clear as day. His hair has gotten longer, now held in a ponytail, and his face was more defined than it had been. The stubble that had been on his chin before had grown into a full beard as well. Yet despite all those changes, his shining blue eyes were still recognizable, still the same, still him.

"What are you doing here!? How are you here!?" The prince takes a few steps forward, reaching out. But he doesn't grab onto the other person, stopping before he does so. It's been three years, and he feels hesitant to be so forward again. 

"My mom got another job, closer to the capital." Fwhip explains with a smile, grabbing Jimmy’s outstretched hands. He holds them in his own, and the cod feels himself lean into the touch he's been starving for for so long. "I couldn't just not see you!"

"Did you sneak in?" The prince asks a rather obvious question, earning a fond snicker from the dragon hybrid. The answer was quite obvious, and he should already know, considering the earlier sound of an unlocking window and all.

"Maybe~" He teases, giving him a little bit of a flirty look. Despite himself and all the worry he has for Fwhip’s safety, Jimmy giggles at that. He’s just so damn charming, this guy is. And captivating, entirely and utterly captivating. Did he ever mention that before? Captivating? Because it's what Fwhip is, to him at least.

"How!?" The cod asks, tightening his grasp on the other’s hands. He thinks a smile is starting to form on his face, a rather wide one, since its starting to hurt so much. Jimmy hopes its a wide smile, so he can show the dragon all the joy he feels at finally seeing him again, after all this time.

"I have my ways." The other lets a small purr slip out, but the sound is a bit unsure. It must be something about Jimmy’s face, or his expression, that is setting the other off. Something about this interaction is upsetting the other, something the blonde can;t quite place his finger on, much to his own frustration. 

Fwhip's confident gaze falters for a second, and he frowns. He lets go of Jimmy’s hands, and the prince feels a mirroring frown start to appear on his own face, his thoughts spiraling and wondering what he had done wrong. "Do you…not want me here? I know it's been three years-"

"No! No." His protest is instant, panic starting to settle into the prince’s bones as soon as the words process. "I want you here." The codfolk goes to reach out again, and ends up grasping desperately at nothing, for the ginger is too far away despite being so close to him. Once again, Jimmy cannot reach for him, and the thoughts have to pain him more than anything else ever has, except maybe their previous parting. 

Fwhip looks uncertain, despite the prince’s devastation. He backs away a bit, still hesitant and uncertain, and Jimmy wants to do nothing more but pull him back and never let go. "There's not.….someone else? I thought you royal people all got married off." The dragon asks, his tail dropping against the floor with a small thunk. Jimmy thinks part of him just shattered a tiny bit, fearful that Fwhip will turn heel and leave and they will never see each other again, not for another three miserable years.

"No, there's no one else." Jimmy shakes his head, and reaches out for a second time. He grasps Fwhip’s hands in his, maybe clinging on harder than he should. But he can’t help it, the prince needs him to stay. "They — my parents — they tried to give me a suitor. But I never wanted one."

"O-oh…" The ginger stammers, his gaze becoming momentarily transfixed on their hands, their hands that are now joined together, fingers interlocking. He looks back up at Jimmy when he keeps talking, a slight shade of red starting to dust his pretty freckled cheeks.

"Everytime they tried to get me to court someone, all I could think about was you." The cod explains. that old and indescribable fondness for this man finding its way into every crevice of his brain for what has to be the millionth time. Fwhip looks up at him, wearing a look that has to be adoration and wonder. Jimmy thinks he’s melting, he’s so in love.

"Would you court me? If given the chance?" The dragon hybrid asks, his own grip on the cod’s hands tightening. Jimmy’s unyielding wave fondness is momentarily interrupted by pleasant surprise, not having expected such a question. A question he did not expect, but is not entirely opposed to. 

"In a heartbeat." His answer is genuine, immediate, and said without a thought. The prince knows in his bones that he would date this man, even if he wasn’t even supposed to see him, let alone doing anything more. He would court him, date him, no matter what the world has to say about it. 

"So court me, please." Fwhip breathes, his hand going to clutch Jimmy’s arm. The prince feels his breath hitch, looking down at the ginger. He can tell, by the look in Fwhip’s eyes, that this is a genuine request. That the dragon would like to go through the whole courting and dating process, with him of all people. 

Even then, he still can’t believe it. Can’t believe the miracle that has practically been placed in his lap. "Really!?" The blonde whispers, astounded. But it's a happy kind of astonishment, the best kind.

"All I could think about for the past three years was you." Fwhip says, his whole expression going soft and warm. And then Jimmy laughs, and laughs even when warm hands come to cup his face, and they both end up laughing into yet another kiss. The first kiss they’ve had in three long years. A kiss that says yes, they were going to be a thing now. This was them, and would be them, for as long as Fwhip would have him.  

When the two of them pull away again, they’re both laughing still, though it comes out more breathless than before. Suddenly, in what has to be a moment of pure exhilaration, Fwhip wraps his arms around the prince's waist, and picks him up with startling strength. Jimmy feels himself turn red, laughing still as he is spun around in the air for a second. 

The dragon hybrid puts him back down, and the cod bumps their foreheads together with a final giggle. Fwhip meets his gaze, and stares back lovingly, and a million wonderful new possibilities start to run through Jimmy;s head at the sight. "Courting does imply marriage…." He murmured after a moment of thought, giving the other an expectant look.

"You'd marry me?" Fwhip asks, having that same surprise Jimmy had held just a few wonderful minutes before, when he’d first broken into the prince's bedroom. This whole thing felt like they were in a fairytale or something, they had to be, for it all to be this perfect and amazing. 

Jimmy speaks again, and hopes all the love he feels for this guy is shown clearly in his eyes, his voice, the way he holds him, in everything that he is able to show it with. "Yes, I think so. I'm pretty sure I would."

"But you barely know me." Fwhip protests, but it comes out weak and in vain, especially when the rest of his being seems to be buzzing with excitement at the mere idea that he is dating the man in front of him, let alone marrying him. 

"Then let me start knowing you." Jimmy says it simply, like its the most obvious thing in the world. Because to him it is, he wants to date Fwhip, to know him wholly and entirely, to be his, and to be the others. He thinks it's all he’s been wanting since they first met those three fateful years ago.

Fwhip cracks a lopsided grin, looking up at the cod with what has to be pure adoration, his gaze is warm and lovely and full of a million other things that Jimmy cannot even try and describe. “Sure. Okay. You can start knowing me.”

“Where do we start with that, then.” He asks, curiosity starting to flicker inside him. The prince has a few ideas, a few ways of getting to know the dragon better that he would like to try. But for now, he is more than happy to let his frie —his boyfriend set the pace. Just for a little while though, just for now, at the start of this all, until they are both more comfortable in their roles in each other's lives.

“Maybe….like this?” Fwhip murmurs, and captures the prince’s lips in his again. Jimmy kisses him back, smiling as a hand goes to tangle in his hair. Even after all this time, their kisses are still sweet tasting and warm, like they had been all those years before. They taste like the apples, like the ones in that very orchard on that fateful night, during what felt like a lifetime ago.

“Yeah, this is a good way to start knowing you.” The ginger agrees once they pull away, already starting to pant as he begins to finally catch his breath. He was already panting, when Jimmy had a sneaking suspicion this was far from the last kiss they were going to exchange that day. They’d missed far too many opportunities to do so before, and now was the moment to make up for all that lost time. 

“Then we'll just keep doing it.” He murmured, bumping their noses together. It is the best way, the only way he really knows how to be a tease about this; to communicate just what he exactly desires in the moment. Thankfully, his partner gets the hint. 

“Hm, good.” Fwhip whispers against his lips, and leans down to take more. Jimmy smiles as the other pushes him down further, and gladly lets him take and take as many kisses as he would like. Their lips connect again, and the prince is in bliss once more. WIth the dragon held in his arms, kissing him stupid, he is finally home again.

____________________

The years go by, and the two keep seeing each other. It's as often as they can, since Jimmy tends to get so busy. And Fwhip can't exactly sneak in every day, even if they would both like to do that. But when he does show up, it makes the occasion all the more special, and lights up the prince's day. And that doesn't change, even after two or so years of being together. Every day with his partner brings him undescribable joy, one that he wouldn’t change for the world. 

"Mind if I…see your wings?" Jimmy asks one day, doing so during a quiet moment. The two had managed to get a quiet moment together, hidden the way in the darkness of the cod’s bedroom; with the door being locked for extra measure. Fwhip is curled up in his arms, buried snuggly into his warmth. Before he had spoken, Jimmy had been playing with his partners hair, and humming rather contentedly.

That wasn’t a question he asked lightly, for he knew how personal wings were to a dragon hybrid. Fwhip had told him so himself once, and Jimmy was keen to respect that. If his boyfriend were to decline the offer, he wouldn’t complain, just go back to what he had been doing before. He had only asked due to a sudden curiosity, and was more than comfortable to back away from his offer if necessary.

He only got small glances at his partners wings when they were spread, though normally the limbs were folded and sometimes even restrained to his back, covered by a shirt at most times. All he’d ever known about them was that they were red and black, and that dragon hybrids were very sensitive about who touched them, the action being a quite personal thing reserved for only family, close friends, and lovers. 

Under him, Fwhip stiffens ever so slightly. But Jimmy says nothing on it, and keeps running his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. He knows how big of a question this is, how big of a moment this is for the dragon, for the both of them. So he will give him all the time in the world to think, even if that means giving him a couple of days or more. 

After a few long moments, Fwhip makes a murmur of what has to be agreement. Jimmy lets his partner go, touched that the dragon would be so open with him, especially when he could decline so easily. Fwhip shuffles out of his grasp, until he is sitting cross legged in front of the cod. The prince sits up properly himself, and watches as the other unveils the limbs attached to his back, raising his shirt to do so. He decides to get this over with quickly, as he can sense the lingering discomfort hanging around the ginger still. 

Jimmy softly ghosts his fingers along the edge of his partners wings, more than a little mesmerized at the sight. Fwhip lets out an involuntary shiver at the touch, and the prince pulls his hand back, fearful he did something wrong. 

Fwhip mutters out something, his voice gentle and kind despite everything. “You didn't do anything wrong, dear. This just….never happens much. I think the only one who's touched these is my family.” At that reassurance, Jimmy nods, moving his hand back. He is still cautious, but manages to rest his fingers along the ridge of it. The ginger shudders again, but his partner does not pull away. He just steadies himself and keeps his hand there, so Fwhip can get used to the sensation. 

The prince runs his hands over the limbs for only a few more minutes, a little in awe of the sight of them. Eventually, to what is probably the tinkerer’s own embarrassment, Fwhip even starts to lean into the touch, and has to stifle a happy purr and the sensation of someone’s warm hand ghosting over them. He’s like a cat, Jimmy;s boyfriend is, the most adorable one out there.

"They're beautiful, darling."  The cod murmurs, placing a delicate kiss to one of the wings. Under him, Fwhip shudders again, and a flush starts to travel from his face all the way to his neck and the tips of his ears, right where his partner could see it.

“....Thank you.” The ginger huffs, deciding he is done with the moment. Jimmy pulls back, sensing that fact, and watches as his partner gets his wings back in order to how they normally are. Hidden underneath his shirt, and sometimes bound. He hopes that one day, fwhip will feel comfortable enough around Jimmy, that he will not feel much need to hide such beautiful parts of him. But if that day takes a few more years, and a few more personal hurdles to jump over, then the cod is more than comfortable to wait for that day. However long his boyfriend needs, he will wait.

“No problem, my little dragon.” He says, and Fwhip flops back against him, still blushing like a madman. He is in Jimmy’s hold again, shifting until he is once again comfortable and content. The prince hums as they resume their earlier positions, going to play with the others' hair as if nothing had ever happened. He thinks Fwhip prefers it that way.

"I love you." Is what’s muttered against his shirt a moment later, slightly muffled. But despite that the cod can tell that it is genuine. Those words have never been anything but, coming from the man under him.

"Love you, too." Jimmy smiles, and peppers a few kisses into his boyfriend’s hair, more than content to spend the rest of his day and then some like this. The previous moment only stays in his mind for a second, before being stored away as one of his favorite memories with Fwhip, though they are probably plenty more of those to come.

____________________

One of the couple’s meetings, near five years into their relationship, is outside once again. And also once again, a certain someone catches an unexpecting prince by total surprise, a habit Jimmy is starting to think his boyfriend enjoys. Especially since, after scaring him near half to death, the Fwhip laughs and giggles to himself like he’s that mischievous little seventeen year old again.

“Fwhip!” Jimmy exclaims, surprised by the others' sudden appearance. “You’re not supposed to be here!” He feels like he says that a lot with this guy, who likes to sneak in whenever he has any sort of opportunity. It's sweet, really, and Jimmy wouldn't trade it for the world. Though this time he really isn't supposed to be here, as the gardens are far too open for the prince's liking. But Fwhip has never cared for such details, much to his partners utter exasperation. 

“I know,” The ginger smiles, reaching out to grab the prince’s hands, and to hold them in his. “But I missed you.” They do that a lot, Jimmy finds, holding each other's hands like that. It’s one of those things about Fwhip that comes naturally to do, like how breathing and blinking does.

"You sap." He teases, leaning closer to his partner. Maybe the cod is trying to steal a kiss already, within maybe a minute or two of seeing each other. Though Fwhip won’t humor him, not just yet anyways. The dragon sees what he;s trying to do, and decides to be cheeky about it, leaning his back every time Jimmy tries to do the opposite. 

"You know you missed me too!" Fwhip purrs, moving so he can wrap his arms around Jimmy’s neck. He doesn’t kiss him, not yet, nor properly, but a sweet peck is pressed into the cod’s cheek, and another placed right next to it. And maybe a few more after that, dotting his face.

Jimmy giggles at the feeling of the slow, peppered kisses, trying to lean in further still. "I did." He let his body relax, and his arms went to rest casually on his partner’s waist, keeping the two of them in position. Like they were going to be moving anytime soon. 

“Well, now that you're here, what do you want to do?” He continues, feeling both of their bodies start to swag a bit, like there was an invisible rhythm they both knew to follow, and to follow it without instinct. Maybe it wasn’t there, only in Jimmy’s mind, or maybe it was the natural rhythm that came from the two just being together, around each other again.

“Is just standing here not enough for you?” Fwhip says with a fond roll of his eyes. He leans in a bit more as he speaks, just to tease him. If Jimmy didn’t love him so much, he would consider breaking apart and punching him for being so mean. 

“No.” He said, shooting the other a look, one that said he knew exactly what he was doing. Fwhip just laughed, no longer able to hold it in. But Jimmy was determined, and would not give up on his one very simple goal, even if his boyfriend was currently laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, he would not relent!

“....Kiss me? And then we can go to the gardens?” He suggests hopefully, once the other’s little giggle fit had calmed down in full, and maybe after sharing a few snickers of his own. The prince couldn’t help it, his partner's laugh was just so beautiful, so infectious. 

Fwhip’s tone is curious when he next speaks, his eyes shining with the same emotion. Jimmy loves that look on him, and makes sure to mention it later, even if he already has at least five times before. “And do what in there?”

“Make flower crowns, if you’re into that.” The prince pitches his idea a little sheepishly, knowing how….silly it might sound. How some people would giggle and call him some kind of hopeless romantic, or even childish or girlish for wanting to do such a thing. However, he knows the dragon hybrid probably won’t do such a thing, but still gets all embarrassed over it nonetheless.

“That's an adorable idea, actually.” Fwhip’s eyes widen, and his expression twists into something so fond and soft, it makes the blonde’s heart ache with something fierce. “I’d be delighted.” Once those words are said, the inventor finally leans in, finally closing the decently small gap between them. Jimmy smiles into it, and his one wish for that day is finally fulfilled.

____________________

One day, after five years of officially being together, Jimmy is brought something by one of the palace workers. One of his personal servants, the little parrot avian that goes by the name of Grian. The prince has grown particularly close with this servant after all these years, nearly a decade, of working and living alongside each other. The bird hybrid is like a brother too him. So as soon as he sees the rather grim and worried look on Grian’s face, one his friend does not sport often, the blonde’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. 

He takes what the servant brings him, the smaller man not being able to meet his gaze. Something;s gone wrong, horribly wrong, and the prince is scared to even try and imagine what that something could be, a million horrible possibilities all running through his head at once. 

Jimmy looks at what Grian had brought him with a nervous gulp, and thinks he's going to throw up. It's the latest newspaper, and right on the front page is an article. An article about him and Fwhip being together. They'd even got a picture of it as well. The two must not have been as well hidden as they thought that day, on Fwhip’s last visit, they must've been too out in the open. Stupid, that's what they were, they were stupid-

The cod takes a breath, and steadies himself. He can’t let his thoughts spiral, he can’t go on a self blaming rant right now. Right now, he needs to get to Fwhip, before any other person can. Jimmy needs to get to his partner, before anyone in this castle, save Grian, gets to the prince himself first.

He stands from where he’d been sitting, newspaper forgotten, and leaves his room. The prince speedwalks through the castle, like a man on a mission, because he is one. He’s a man on a very important mission, to find his boyfriend ASAP.  Jimmy starts to beeline for their usual meeting spots, those being his room, the gardens, and the library’s balcony, oddly enough. Or any balcony really, or any other place that Fwhip can easily unlock. If his partner is not in the castle yet, well he will just have to sneak out and find him himself. He thinks the dragon hybrid had given him his address anyway and that he remembered it, probably. Hopefully.

He checks the gardens first, and gets a lucky guess. There, moving between some of the plants, is a very frantic Fwhip. Their eyes meet for one small second, each man sharing the same panicked expression, and Jimmy wastes no time near running across the garden until he is buy Fwhip’s side once more, for what could possible be the last time. God knows what’s going to become of him, once the rest of the kingdom finds out. (Jimmy had never really considered it before, the danger of what they’ve been doing, but now it is hitting him smack in the face, and it's truly terrifying for the both of them.)

Before either of them knows what's happening, he is crashing into Fwhip’s arms, and they are holding onto each other tightly. Like they are the other man's lifeline, like the other is the only thing keeping them upright. His partner's hold has never felt so comforting yet horrifying all at once. "They found out." Jimmy breathes, looking into his boyfriend’s wide eyes, fear clearly reflected in them. The prince’s heart twists itself into knots.

"I know. I don't care." Fwhip says, going to cup both of his cheeks in his hands. Jimmy leans into the touch, the warmth, extremely aware for the first time that he should not even be doing so, let alone enjoying it. "I won't stop seeing you."

"What would your family think-" Jimmy starts, and is quickly cut off as soon as he does so. The hold on his face tightens, and he places his own hands ontop of the ones holding him so lovingly, despite everything crashing around them.

"Gem won't care, and my parents can fuck right off. I won't stop seeing you, not for anything.” Fwhips snarls, sounding more sure than he ever had of anything in his life, More sure than he ever had about any of the inventions or ideas he rambled about, more sure than anything in the whole wide world. "What about yours?" The ginger asks, clearly and predictably more concerned about his partner's safety than he is his own. Like his boyfriend doesn;t have plot armor in the form of being literal royalty.

"I don't know what they're gonna say. I'm too scared." Jimmy admits, after a quiet moment of thought. His first and only one until that point had been finding Fwhip, but now that he had done so, the prince had to face the other problems that came with that damn newspaper article. And once he took a second to think about all the other consequences and reactions to this, he found that he didn’t want to go and face any of them.

"Wasn't your mom from a village? Like I am?" Fwhips asks, recalling all the information he learned of the royal family through the years. He’d learned it all somehow, either through word of mouth of Jimmy himself talking about it, and now seemed like a damn good time to finally make all that knowledge useful. 

Jimmy mumbles out his response, getting cut off by a stubbornly persistent dragon hybrid, the one still clutching onto his face like he’ll die without doing so. "Yeah but-"

"They can't say anything then, or they're hypocrites!" Fwhip exclaims, his brows furrowing. He sounds like he’s just found the loophole, the solution to everything. But he is not a noble, the dragon hybrid does not know how high class society tends to work. He does not know the life Jimmy lives and all its details, he does not know the cod’s parents. But the prince does, he knows all that better than he would like, and knows that what his boyfriend had said is not a solution, but more likely to be another problem more than anything. 

"They can't say anything publicly, but privately... " He points out, well aware of all the words his parents, and maybe even Lizzie, could be slinging at him in less than an hour. “And you're not a merfolk, you're a dragon. You know how some people feel about that stuff…”

"Shit." Fwhip breathes out softly, the horrible reality of this all hitting him for the second time that day. They had no good way around this, no way out. Both of them would be in deep trouble, to varying degrees of course, but still in trouble. All with the lingering possibility they would never be allowed to meet again, or maybe something worse, if Jimmy’s father is a crueler man than he was raised to believe he was. 

"I won't stop seeing you. Never. You mean the world to me." Jimmy reassures him. He takes Fwhip’s hands off his face, so he can hold them in his own, like the two of them always do. He interlocks their fingers, and can only hope the familiar action is starting to bring his partner the same comfort it is starting to bring him. "I love you." He says, and prays it's not the last time he’ll do so.

"I know." Fwhip responds quickly, simply. He doesn’t need to say the full phrase back, those two words are enough to get everything across and then some. Small phrases have been able to mean that for a while now, able to carry such emotion without even saying much in the first place.

"Remember, when I said courting implies marriage?" Jimmy says, after allowing himself a fleeting second to think, his eyes lighting up with something. Something he doesn’t quite dare call hope just yet. But maybe…just maybe…he’s found the solution. Get married, legally, before anyone else had a chance to intervene, despite all the uproar it was sure to cause. Though everything after this would cause an uproar of some kind, so the one that got the prince the husband he wanted really sounded like the only good option at this point. 

"Yeah?" Fwhip says, sounding a little hesitant. But there is a slight, new hope starting to form under all that unsureness, and it buzzes around the both of them like a wave of electricity. Their electricity, their hope for something better.

"Do we want to go ahead and do that? Finish our courting? Now that everyone knows?" The prince pitches his idea, letting that hope rear its wonderful, wonderful head for the first time since he’d gotten it, even if that had only been a minute before. Fwhip’s grip on his hand tightens, and he already knows the other feels the same way about all this.

The ginger smiles up at him, fond, earnest, and like he can’t believe what he just heard. "I'd love that." He breathes, and cracks the first smile Jimmy had seen from him in their short time together that day. Hopefully, a few more are to follow from both of them. 

"So you'll marry me?" The blonde asks. It’s a stupid question, one he should already know the answer to. Jimmy does that a lot, so the man in front of him says, asks stupid questions he should already know the answer too. Apparently it makes him all the more endearing.

"In a heartbeat." Fwhip’s response is small, smile, and two words again. One of those small phrases that had come to mean something, while never having said much in the first place. He squeezes the cod’s hands together in his, the action being a lot more hopeful than it had been just a minute or so before.

They lapse into a momentary silence, until Jimmy speaks again. He could tell both of them were processing, unsure what to say, the realization of what they;d just agreed to, hitting both of them like a wave. They’d both agreed to one of the biggest things you could agree too, and they hadn;t even had a ring or a plan or anything. Bunch of idiots, the two of them where. "...Is that it? Are we engaged?" Fwhip asks, his tone having to be full of absolute bewilderment. But a good kind, if that made any sense.

"I guess so. Unless you want me to do a proper proposal?" Jimmy shrugs, the last words meant to be entirely unserious. Doing a proper proposal would blow, like, the whole plan they just made to get secretly married. Which was pretty counterproductive, and not at all helping his still lingering paranoia of what that news article was going to do to their lives.

"Oh the journalists would love that." Fwhip exclaims with a giggle. "Upcoming prince proposes to a poor boy!" He draws out the last words, exaggerating them as best as he could. The prince has to hold back a snort, for this isn't really a time for giggles.

"It wouldn't have to be public -" He mutters, finding himself a little embarrassed and blushing red. Fwhip, ever one for the dramatic, isn’t having any of that. The cod briefly wonders if he;s using all the jokes and joy as a distraction from thoughts of whatever horrible thing might soon befall the two of them. Like Jimmy himself might slightly be doing already.

"But then it would just be silly, because we already know we're getting married. If it was public we could make a show out of it!" The dragon says, his wings fluttering from where they are bound under his shirt. Jimmy knows he has to agree here, and holds back a sigh. That would, indeed, be quite the show for the people. 

"Mm, you have a point." He mumbled, finally feeling a proper smile start to form on his face. It’s the first one he’s cracked all day, and it's because of his boyfriend, surprise, surprise. A lot of his smiles are because of this guy, even on the worst day for their relationship yet.

"Why're you smiling like that?" Fwhip asks, bemused, and like a similar smile isn’t mirroring itself on his face at that very moment, likely for the same reason the prince is flashing his own. They had just gotten engaged on the spot, after all.

"Because you're gonna be my husband, idiot." The prince rolls his eyes fondly, before continuing what else had been on his mind, and had been since his proposal just minutes before. “How are we doing this marriage thing anyways?” They had the idea down, but now the two needed to actually execute it, which was always a lot harder done than said, in Jimmy’s experience so far.

Fwhip makes an on the spot plan, something the blonde has found he;s quite good at doing. And usually, the plans are good and work out, like all his sneaking in, so Jimmy had learned to not mind that tendency of his over the years. “We could always run and get eloped in the woods? That would save a lot of headache.”

Jimmy beams upon hearing the idea, his tail starting to flick excitedly behind him. “Just several days of seeing you? All the time? And we get married in the end? I like that idea.” He is on board immediately, because of course he is. It’s for all the reasons he just listed above, but also because a wedding in the woods sounds adorable, genuinely. And also the most perfect thing he’s ever heard in his whole life.

“What about when we come back?” Fwhip, a smile still stayed etched onto his face, asks one last question, voicing what seems to be the last of his uncertainties. Well, the last ones for now at least. There are certainly a few more of those to come in the nearing days. But it is nothing the two of them can’t handle, not if they are together.

“We'll cross the bridge when we get to it.” Jimmy says, promises it. Fwhip smiles at him for what has to be the billionth time since their first meeting, what has to be going on eight years ago now, and the prince smiles back like he always does. For the first time, he knows that everything with them is going to be okay, because nothing in the world could tear him from this man. From his boyfriend, his soon to be husband.

And speaking of that, the two of them better start moving, and fast. They have a little marriage in the woods to plan, and what has to be a hell of a lot of preparations for it. But it will be worth it, Jimmy knows it in his soul, if he gets to see this guy everyday after this. It will all have been worth it.

He thinks maybe, that instead of the middle of the woods, they should be married in an apple orchard instead, and turns to pitch the idea to his finance.

#ron.fic #ron.writing #jimmy solidarity #fwhimmy #empires smp s1 #empiresshipping #This is one of my favorites hehe #I WAS SUPOSSED TO POST THIS SUNDAY....UMMMM #hi guys take ur 12k word fwhimmy 2 days late. im going to bed (lying) #fwhip

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 1: lucifer / night dagger scene

ao3 link

note: what better way to kick things off than to make lucifer so very sad! this is based on lesson 38 of the original game, during the whole three-realms-imbalance-lucifer-amnesia arc. requested by anonymous - thank you!

little bit of context: in our version, the source of the imbalance is an 'aberration', which ik is the 'host' of - owing to the weird time stuff + exposure to extremely potent foreign magic, meaning she has the exact specific constitution that allows the aberration to form

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

“I’ve told you everything I know. Do what you think is right - I trust you.”

Solomon tells me this, presses a cold blade into my hand, and leaves. Lucifer stands in his wake and stares at me in blank silence.

Do what you think is right.

For the first time since he woke up without his memories, I’m grateful that he doesn’t remember anything. I don’t think I could have looked him in the eye if they’d held even a shred more clarity.

“How much did you hear?” I ask.

“...enough.”

Ten frozen seconds tick by without a word. Lucifer steps forward - cautiously, as if approaching a stray dog - and slips the dagger from my hand.

I watch as he balances the blade between two fingers. It looks so fragile that it might shatter at a touch. A single ray of light glances from the sharp edge, into the red of his eyes.

He doesn’t flinch. “So this is the solution.”

He’s holding the blade just out of reach - just high enough that I can’t snatch it back. I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose.

“It’s only a last resort,” I say, without really processing it. “Solomon’s clever. He’ll come up with something else. He will, he— he has to.”

Lucifer’s eyes flash down to me. Slowly, he crouches down.

“...it’s strange. There are certain things that still haven’t disappeared, even if I’ve forgotten everything else." He smiles a little. "This house - I don’t remember how we came to be here. But I know it is where we've all been together, and I know it is where I want to stay.”

He reaches up, cradling my cheek in a gloveless hand. His skin is ice-cold - but I can only lean closer, grasping for comfort where it lingers, in the way that his thumb still moves in exactly the same soothing motion.

“I don’t remember who I must have been,” He says softly. “But the feeling remains. If this is what it takes to keep you safe, so be it. If we don’t fix this quickly, you’ll all suffer for it. I cannot allow that.”

I hate that he can make it sound so easy. When he presses the dagger back into my hand, I can’t fight it.

“Just close your eyes.” He cups his hand around mine, closing my numb fingers around the handle. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

And he points the tip into his heart.

My hand trembles. He holds it steady. He won’t look me in the eye, won’t raise his head - he keeps it bowed in supplication, waiting silently for the blow.

I can’t do this.

Lucifer doesn’t know how to die. I don’t want to be the one to teach him.

Do what’s right. Do what you think is right.

Do what’s right.

Do what you think is right.

I don’t understand. This is all to restore balance - but why? Why does it have to be like this?

The dagger needs power if the aberration is to be cut out with precision. It has to be done with precision if I don’t want it to tear me apart on the way out. Once torn from its only host, it’ll disappear.

...I should’ve put two and two together. It’s not that I’m special enough to need this whole fancy scheme. This is all a work-around for just how mundane I am.

Solomon hasn’t been telling me everything. Either he’s tricked me, or he’s tricked himself - into thinking that the only solutions for this end with me alive. He watches over humanity, and that includes me - so of course he wouldn't tell me. Of course he's decided that this is the best course of action, because he thinks he knows best.

The dagger could drain the life from my weak human body in an instant - no extra fuss. With that, everything would be fixed. But he's chosen something else. And for this version of the plan, Lucifer has to die instead.

I suppose Solomon doesn’t know me as well as I thought he did. Surely he’d realise that this is worse than anything else he could have asked me to do.

Do what’s right.

Or maybe that’s why he asked me to do it. He knows what would happen if I realised I had any other choice, and it goes against his very purpose to let me do it.

In fact, he's known for a while now. He's just pretended not to, and I haven't questioned it because it's so obvious. If it did work, he'd have brought it up, right?

And that's exactly what he was banking on. Too bad I've outsmarted him at this turn.

Do what you think is right.

I’ve made up my mind.

“No.” Before Lucifer can pull away, I reach up and seize the knife with my other hand as well. “I’m not doing this.”

His expression stutters. “What—”

“This is stupid.” I try to wrest it from him, but he holds fast. “Why are we doing this? Wouldn’t it be so much easier if I just—”

His eyes widen, and he interrupts sharply, “That is not an option.”

“If I'm gone, it all ends." I can't fool him. All I can do is try to reason with him. "I can fix this. I can give you your memories back.”

“And what do you expect me to do after that?!” His voice cracks. It feels as if the sound might break him apart. “You’ll give me my memories - and what will happen when I remember who I am mourning?!”

“You’ll carry on. You always do.” I try to look him in the eyes. He refuses to look back. “If I let you die— that’s thousands of years gone, and thousands more that you won’t have anymore. I know you - you'd want those memories back."

"Your family matters more to you than anything - you'd never want to forget them." I try to offer him a smile - just as he did as he prepared to tell me to kill him. "I'm not important enough to make you give that up."

He stops struggling. His expression is hollow. “...you are lying to me.”

"I know."

Stalemate. Neither of us will back down. Neither of us will let go.

My sleeve has slipped up. There’s a pin-prick of dark blue light winking up at me - a pact he once made to protect me.

I won’t make him do it. But I have to make sure he won’t stop me.

“Lucifer. Give me the dagger.” My head is clearer than ever before. “That’s an order.”

#3rd anni event #<- will probably set up a masterlist at some point but for now just use this tag! #('aberration' is the word i'm using instead of 'ring' since that term always kinda bothered me in canon) #obey me #writing #obey me lucifer #jtta ik #angst

[hertzwritings]

The horror and the wild

A/N: We’re BACK BABY! I’m sorry for the lackluster posting, but life happens, you know? Anyway, we’re back with prompts and I cannot say how much I’ve looked forward to this. THERE’S STILL PROMPTS LEFT ON THE LIST, SO GO CRAZY, MY LOVES! Prompt: “You’re bleeding.” “Just a little.” “It’s a femoral artery, asshole.”

You can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a personalized something – the sky is the limit, and it would really help me out with my bills this month.

Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine, in particular), and my requests and askbox are always open – there’s no limits because I am me and I have none.

 MASTERLIST

GERALT OF RIVIA MASTERLIST

PROMPT-LIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

 Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x female reader

Contains: language, mentions of fighting, mentions of blood, mentions of medical stuff, light fluff, a little angst, sexual tension, smut (MDNI), fingering, p in v, a little Feral!Geralt, crempie, unprotected sex, MASSIVE AGE GAP (because Geralt is truly an old dude), a little elder speech

W.C.: 3.861

 The horror and the wild

 You heard them before you saw them. The dull thuds of blades hitting soft bodies, the screeching of the nekkers and the grunts from a familiar voice; Geralt was out again.

It had been several months since you’d last seen him at Kaer Morhen, when you came to aid with the plants needed through winter. He had been gruff – as per usual – and pointed – also on par for him – and he had left in the dead of the night, despite not really talking to you. He was an arse, most of the time, but you understood him well enough to know it didn’t have anything to do with you, not really.

He was just like that. Jaskier had laughed loudly, when he finally figured out who you were, and had the time of his life seeing you verbally stepping on Geralt. Both of them liked it, you supposed. It had been for the almsot ten years, you had known Geralt. 

You sighed and grabbed your own blade, crafted from Hattori after you helped him escape his death in Novigrad. It was a nice gesture, and the two-handed sword was one of beauty; the blade itself was slightly curved, carved with intricate symbols of protection, while the handle was wrapped in soft, black leather, the top of silver glinting in the sun. You loved it. You rushed outside, trying to pinpoint where on earth the sounds were coming from, and to your horror, you realized that it wasn’t just male grunts and Nekkers screeching; no, the familiar clicks of endregas echoing around the woods. Damn it. He might be accomplished with swords, but if he was alone with both endregas and nekkers, he was going to die. You ran through the thicket, leaves and branches cracking under your weight, as you ran to the fight.

You had been right in coming – Geralt was breathing heavily, sweat pouring over his brows, his sword a flurry of silver. “Fuck!” He grunted when a Nekker jumped his back and he shook it off, but you saw how tired he was. You jumped into action when you saw him falter for a moment, your blade slashing through bodies of nekkers, trying to reach him. “Kind of you to… Umpfh… Join the fight.” He said through gritted teeth. You flashed him a smile, before swinging your sword behind him, catching an endrega on the soft spot between its plates. It tumbled to the ground, the acidic blood pooling under it.

 It had been hard, long and far too dangerous, but the two of you had managed to get out nearly unscathed. You were bleeding from the head (thanks to the sharp talons of a nekker) and Geralt was hoppling behind you, dragging his left foot behind him, trying his best to keep up.    

“Geralt?” You turned to look at him and noticed how pale he had gotten. You could see your hut from where you stood, but that didn’t matter to you right now. All that mattered was the way his hand came away from his thigh, covered in dark blood. You gasped and rushed to his side, hitching your arm around his waist – you were about a head and a half short than him, and you were sure that in any other situation, you both would have laughed at the absurdity of you trying to support him like this, but right now, all that mattered was him.

“Fuck.” You almost rolled your eyes at him and ordered him to keep pressure on the wound, dragging him to the hut. When you crashed inside, his skin had grown almost as grey as his hair, and he was breathing raggedly. You laid him in your bed and realized the situation was much worse than you had feared – red pooled under him too quickly for your liking, and the black pants had somehow covered just how much he was bleeding. “You’re bleeding.” You said quickly, scrambling to find your medicines and the kit, you used to stich up wounds. It might not be the smoothest work, but it would do. “Just a little.” You ripped his pants from his legs and groaned, feeling sick to your stomach at the sight of the open wound on his thigh, green and blue veins of venom spreading around it. “It’s a femoral artery, asshole.” You replied dryly, before wetting cloth and proceeded to wipe it down. He clenched his jaw, when you began stitching quickly, adding bunches of your herbs and concoctions to the wound, that already had started slowly healing. Thank the Gods for mutant-genes. “What the hell were you doing out there alone, Geralt?” You muttered under your breath, fingers stained red with his blood. It had stilled a lot since you stitched him up, and he was gaining some pallor back. He grunted and gratefully took the cup of water, you handed him. “I didn’t get to tell you goodbye.” You scoffed. “And a goodbye is worth your life, is it?” “Maybe. In my defense, I didn’t expect to be attacked.” “We’re in Velen, you oaf, there’s always a chance to be attacked here.” You said with a huff, wiping your hands on your pants and tying the bandage around his thigh firmly, before standing up. His fingers shot out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back to your seated position. “I…” You found his eyes, and the familiar warmth you always felt when you were around him, returned. You saw the apology in his eyes, and shook your head.  “It was fine, Geralt. You had to find Yennefer, remember?” You said slowly, trying to keep the lump in the back of your throat, back. It had shattered your heart that he apparently had been so enamored with the sorceress, but you wouldn’t stand in his way. He deserved some good in life. Ciri was one, but if he wanted Yennefer… He should have her. “I found her.” He said slowly. “And we broke the curse from the djinn.” You swallowed. “I didn’t know there was a djinn to take into account.” He smiled softly, one of the rare smiles, that could melt ice – it was like years had been removed from him, when he smiled like that. “There was. Now, there isn’t.” “Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. “You should relax for a moment, Gwynnbleid, or I’ll have your head.” He nodded and reluctantly let your wrist go. It felt oddly cold. “Don’t leave.” He mumbled under his breath. “I would never.” Your cheeks heated under his gaze. “I’ll draw you a bath.”

 It took longer than normally to draw the bath. You kept adding things, simply to avoid looking at him again, but when you finally finished and gestured to it, it became clear that he couldn’t get in on his own. Fuck. “Hold me, I’ll support you.” You mumbled and gently tried to help him off the bed – he followed pliantly, leaning on you for support, since his left leg didn’t work at all at the moment, and when you reached the tub, another issue became clear. His clothes.

His pants were ripped already, since you had ripped them to gain access to his wound, so they would be quick work, but also leave him almost naked. You sat him down on the wobbly stool next to him and undid the strings on the side of his armor-plates with shaking hands, staring intently at them. The armor fell loose around him, and you gingerly removed the plates from his chest and abdomen, trying desperately not to think about how warm he was under your fingers. As soon as the armor had fallen away, you began unbuttoning the buttons on his undershirt, eyes trained on them as if they were the single most interesting thing in the world. “You’re blushing.” It was an observation. “Well, you’re getting naked.” You said, unbuttoning the last button and lifted the shirt from his waist, letting it slide past his chest – noting the scars and chiseled abs and chest, which didn’t dampen the heat in your cheeks – and his head, before flinging it in the wooden bucket you had filled with soapy water to wash the grime away from his clothes. “Thank you, me feainn.” He mumbled. You swallowed thickly. “Always.” You began undoing the straps of his pants and kept your mind at ease; it was very damn difficult to keep focus on anything but him, and you nearly moaned when you saw he was naked under the pants. You were certain his heightened sense of everything made it very clear how you felt at the moment, but if he noticed, he didn’t let on. “Stand.” You asked gently, turning your head away from his groin. He grabbed the windowsill and stood on shaky legs, as you tugged the legs (well, leg) down and finally removed the leather pants fully from his body. “I…” You cleared your throat. You were a professional. “Hold my shoulder, I’ll help you into the bath.” When had it gotten so hot in here? His skin was burning against your shoulder, and his scent permeated your senses completely, leaving you shaking just as bad as he was. He sat down with a soft sigh, that went straight to your core, and you drew a deep breath, before handing him a bar of soap. “I’ll wash your clothes and see if I can mend your pants.” You needed to get out of the room.  

 ------------------

 It took almost a week for him to gain enough strength to walk again. The venom – which you both deduced had been from an endrega – hadn’t spread too much, but it had been enough in combination with the wound to render him, in his words, utterly useless. You didn’t mind his presence in your little hut. It felt warm and tight, but in a way, that just seemed right. When he did begin to walk again, you had joked that you needed to raise the roof of your hut, since the top of his head constantly hit the supporting beams, and he had a permanent bruise (which was a feat, since the Witcher healed in no time) just over his brow, because he kept bumping into the doorframe. It was almost endearing.

“You seem to be better.” You stated as you watched him walk around the hut, piling wood into the hearth. “I am.” He said, lighting the fire. You sat on your bed, crossing your legs. “I suppose this means that you’re leaving soon.” You smiled sadly. “I cleaned your swords, by the way.” He frowned at you. “Why would I leave?” You shrugged. “You always do. The road calls you more than the whisper of the forest calls me.” He knelt down in front of you, and despite being on his knees, and you being raised above the ground on your bed, his face was still level with yours. Tall, handsome man. “I am not leaving. At least, not until we have talked.” “Talked? Geralt, you don’t talk.” He cocked an eyebrow at you. “First time for everything.” You licked your lips, trying to breathe through your mouth to evade the scent of him, because it would settle in your bones and never leave you again – it would simply make you yearn for him, and you couldn’t handle that. “I…” “Y/N.” for the first time since you found him the woods, he spoke your real name. Normally, he’d call you minne, me blath, or me feainn – you tried not to let those get to your head. Your eyes snapped to his amber ones, and you made the mistake of inhaling through your nose. The scent, that was inherently Geralt was intoxicating, but in combination with the lemon soap, you normally used, it was sinful. “I am not about to leave you. We should…” He licked his lips, and you felt your heart skip out of your chest. “Geralt.” You interrupted. “You should go find Yennefer. Ciri, too. They must be missing you.” “Ciri knows I came to find you. Yennefer…” He sighed. “Yennefer is currently pissy with me. Understandable, though not justified.” “How so?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you. His fingers rested right next to your knee, and they twitched, almost as if he wanted to put his hand on your knee but restrained himself. “The djinn. It created a bond between us.” You nodded. You knew the story well, having had it told countless of times – Jaskier hated it, you disliked it, but Geralt seemed content with it. “I asked the djinn to undo it.” You nearly choked on your own spit. “I’m sorry?” “That’s why Yen is angry with me. Hurt, I guess.” He said slowly, his amber eyes searching yours. “I… Didn’t feel anything when it was lifted. I thought…” He sighed. “Yennefer thought it was more than a curse from a djinn. It was for her. I have love for her, but not the love she expected nor wanted.” Your mind was reeling. He wasn’t… In love? “Which means…?” “You know I’m not good with words, me minne.” He grunted. “Try. I need… I need to know, please, Gwynnbleid.” You echoed his elder speech. “I didn’t have the love to give her, because I had already, unwillingly, and very unknowingly until a few weeks ago, given my heart and all it possessed to someone else.” “Unwillingly?” you stammered. “Yes. I have always been content with being alone. I have never been lonesome, and since Jaskier came along and then Ciri, I hardly think I’ll ever be lonesome, even if I tried.” You laughed a little. That much was true. “But… The last visit to Kaer Morhen…” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I saw you, finally. For the longest time, you’ve been in the back of my mind, which was irksome at best, distracting at worst.” He smiled. “And you just stood there, talking to Lambert and Eskel, while Vesemir laughed along, and something just…” He gestured to his chest. “And I had seen you before, several times over the years, but I finally saw you. You were under the window, and the sun shone down on you, lighting you up. And I knew I couldn’t stay. Not at Kaer Morhen, nor could I stay with Yennefer.” You blinked three times. This was the most you had heard Geralt speak in the ten years you had known him. “And we have always been friendly. You’ve helped me more times than I can count. But… I never truly saw you.” “Geralt, I don’t…” “Just… Let me get this off my chest, I beg you.” He pleaded. You nodded, and out of instinct, you lifted his hand to your knee, let it rest there and intertwined your fingers with his. A jolt of warmth ran through your fingers to your heart. He glanced at your hands and smiled before he looked back at you. “I don’t expect you to return any affection stemming from a 100-year-old man, but I wanted… I don’t know. To tell you. I would stay if you asked. I’d be content with making concoctions and weed your garden for the rest of my life, me feainn.”

Your mind was reeling. “I…” You swallowed thickly. “Didn’t know you were a hundred years old.” “105, if we’re being pedantic about it.” You grinned. “That’s quite the dexterity you have for a 105-year-old, Geralt.” He chuckled, but didn’t answer, simply waiting for you. “You know…” You looked at your intertwined fingers. “I’ve always thought myself as somewhat of a lone soul. At least, until I met Jaskier because that dolt won’t leave anyone alone.” Geralt hummed in response. “I just… I met you when I was shy of 18, and you seemed to have been whatever my world revolved around. I never wanted to tell you, because you had too much on your own, Child Surprise, Yennefer, Jaskier, the life you live. I didn’t want to interfere.” “You wouldn’t. You would be the sun, I would orbit.” He said softly. “As you are for me.” It was all you could say. There wasn’t much more to say, at any rate. He knew. “Y/N…” his voice was pained. “What would you have me do?” you looked at him. His eyes had darkened slightly, and you dislodged your hand from his to cup his cheek. His stubble scratched your palm slightly, and it made you shudder. “I wish for you to do what you want, Geralt. I’m not in a position to ask or tell you what to do or what to want, because your life, your choices are yours and yours alone. If you want to stay, you can. If you want to go back on the road, you can. If you want me to come with you, I will.” You whispered.

He didn’t answer but took the beat of a heart to lunge at you, his lips descending hungrily on yours. You whimpered and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him as closely, you could.  It was addictive, the way he kissed. It was almost animalistic, teeth and tongue, like he wanted to devour you – you didn’t mind it one bit, and moaned when his teeth tugged on your lips, earning you a small growl in the back of his throat. You didn’t know when or how, but you were on your back, your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to snap your hips up to meet him, and he smiled against the kiss, his fingers quickly undoing the skirt, you had been wearing. If you had any say in it, none of you would be wearing clothes ever again.

You were nude under him in less than a blink of the eye, your nipples pebbled; he grunted and removed his now-mended pants, pushing them to his thighs. You felt his fingers first, dipping between your folds, and you surrendered yourself completely to the feeling of his calloused pads toying with you; you were moaning and writhing under him, as his fingers dipped inside of you, curling upwards with a soft moan that echoed your own. Your back arched, and your fingers pulled his face back to meet yours, kissing him deeply as he drew pleasure from you with every stroke of his long, thick fingers.

The fingers, that normally dealt pain and death to the monsters of the world, brought you pleasure beyond anything you had experienced before. It was like fire was licking your very soul, your entire being captivated by the slight movements of his fingers, as he pumped them in and out of you. You kissed him desperately, feeling an overwhelming sense of belonging intertwined with the fire, that licked gently against you. “Geralt, I…” You moaned against his lips. Your hips rolled to meet his fingers. “I’ve got you, me feainn.” He whispered, speeding up slightly and you came undone. It was like a collision of planets went off in you, spreading their warmth from the tips of his fingers through your entire body. Your cells were screaming in pleasure, and you had no control over yourself, legs shaking as he fucked you through your orgasm.

He slowly withdrew his fingers from you, and kissed you again, lining his cock up with your wet entrance. You were begging for him in whispers, letting them wash over him in the same way he had washed over you. “Y/N…” He moaned your name as he entered you, groaning when he sank completely into you, and you understood now, why the women of the taverns spoke in such reverie about him. You could cum just from this, his stillness, because he filled you so much, it was near impossible to think he’d have room to move. “Fuck, Y/N…” He groaned and slowly drew back and snapped his hips, allowing himself to pump in and out of you. You whimpered at his thick cock dragging against your walls when he found a pace, his cock sliding against you, your little hut filled with the wet sounds of your bodies meeting. “Please, Geralt…” You moaned his name. “More.” His eyes snapped to yours, molten gold meeting you, and he growled. You clenched around him at the sound. “Don’t jest.” “I don’t. Please.” You whimpered again and rolled your hips.

He lost control of himself, it would seem; he growled again and buried his head in the crook of your neck, his teeth finding the sensitive spot along your neck, biting down and marking you, his hips speeding up wildly and his fingers gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. You mewled and tried to keep up with him, but he refused to let you do anything but take it, and at this moment, you were more than willing. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good…” He mumbled against your skin, leaving wet trails from his lips. You couldn’t think, speak or even fully comprehend anything but the feeling of his thick cock sliding in and out of you.

Your orgasm hit you at the same time as he buried himself deeply, his head nudging your cervix and a growled mine fell from his lips. You tensed like a bowstring, your back arching, pushing your chest flush with his. He stuttered when your wet pussy clenched around him, drawing him deeper, and let himself go. With a string of curses and your name in elder speech, he filled you with his spend, fucking into you hard enough to make it spill from the sides. You were moaning through a coarse throat, having screamed yourself nearly mute.

“I… Sorry.” He mumbled, kissing your neck, jaw and finally, your lips softly. “What on earth are you apologizing for?” You said with a small laugh. “It was too fast.” You grabbed a chunk of his hair and pulled him up – he whined, and you stored that information for later – to make him look at you. “It was perfect.” “Next time, I’ll make sure you get your pleasure at least three more times.” You chuckled and kissed him as he slowly pulled out. He fell to your side, still panting slightly. “I don’t think I’d be able to go three more times.” You mumbled, wrapping your arm around his waist and pulled yourself flush against him. “Ha, that wasn’t a question. It was a promise, me minne.” Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head.

“On one condition.” You answered. “Hm?” You smiled against his chest. “We leave this place. Take me with you on your adventures.” “Death sentences, you mean.” “Death, adventure… I’m sure Jaskier would call it all the same.” He chuckled, and the sound warmed you more than a crackling hearth ever could. “Speaking of Jaskier… I left him at Cunny of the Goose.” You grinned. “He’s fine, he’ll get to woo the ladies and the men with his songs of woe.” You frowned. “Actually, why did you come here? I haven’t seen a call for a Witcher for a while.” He kissed the top of your head. “Is it not obvious?” He lifted your head with two fingers under your chin, his eyes boring into yours.

“For you.”

  ** Minne: Love Me Blath: my flower me feainn: my sun  

  ------------

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[umbrify]

So @liloinkoink tagged me in a little game where I post about all my wips, so people can see them and ask questions about them. I realized that I uh. I have twenty different AU concepts (all made with my beloved friend @made-nondescript ), so I’m gonna pick a few:

Merfolk AU (fWhimmy): in which Jimmy, sheriff to a small coastal town, realizes there’s something— or, someone— living right near their shores. fWhimmy mer au where fWhip is the merperson, and they have to figure out how to make it work, despite… everything.

And… is he sure about this? Joel’s gonna laugh at him— Jimmy’s certain he is. He can’t even blame him, really. What a ridiculous thing to say: I found a rock at the rock beach and I think there was a guy in the water— yeah, right. But… it feels important. It feels important enough to try. He has to try.

“I think… I think I met someone in the ocean, two nights ago,” Jimmy murmurs.

This AU does have one posted work already— [We Will See Tomorrow], which is like a prologue of sorts!

Vamp AU (WRA siblings, future fWhimmy): One mistake is all it takes to change the course of your life forever, as fWhip and Gem find out the hard way. Roseblings become vampires the messy way, and find it quite hard to come to terms with.

“Well, hello there!” The man calls brightly, perhaps just a touch too loud for the occasion at hand. fWhip bites back a flinch at the sound.

“Uh— hi,” he calls back, “I take it you have what I’m looking for?”

The man chuckles slightly, an easy smile stretching across his scarred face, and fWhip raises an eyebrow. The man steps closer, positioning himself next to fWhip. “You’re after some really valuable stuff here, you know.” The man leans down slightly, looking into fWhip’s eyes. “You sure you’re willing to pay the price?”

(If he were more observant, perhaps fWhip would’ve noticed the way the man’s too-sharp teeth flashed in the sickly orange light— his first, and only, warning.)

This one has lots of art, which can be found under [#esmp vamp au]!

Space AU (fWhimmy— sorta): They’ve landed on this planet, and too late, they’ve realized they can’t leave it. How do you come to terms with the fact you’re definitely doomed? Jimmy and fWhip are co pilots of a spacecraft sent to check on a planet that sent out a strangled distress signal, and now they’ve got plenty of time to get acquainted before the end— if fWhip could stop making things worse, that is.

“Commander Jimmy, transmission regarding the emergency distress signal received from planet ANC-19.”

“This planet is lost, and so are we. Do not send a rescue mission. This planet is sick, it cannot be saved. I repeat, do not send anyone else here. They will die. There are no survivors. There is nothing of value left here.”

Snowpocalypse AU— or, hey what if Xornoth kidnapped Scott and used his ice powers to cause eternal winter? Wouldn’t that be fucked up? Scott’s absence is noticed very quickly by Gem, who drags fWhip and Jimmy to his house to check on him

“Oh—“ Gem turns the handle, the door swinging open slightly. “Scott! I’m coming in!!”

The lights are on as the step inside— fWhip knew they were, of course, but…

Well. He didn’t expect this.

The house is completely trashed— the coffee table is turned on its side, a mug of what might’ve been coffee or tea has shattered on the ground, the liquid partially stained into the rug. The pillows from the couch are strewn all around the room, and half the cabinets are thrown open, as if someone was looking for… something.

“…Scott?” fWhip calls, hesitantly.

Something is definitely wrong.

(More quick ones below the cut!)

fWhimmy Apocalypse AU (also featuring lots of fWhip & Pix): In which fWhip and Pix make the hardest trip of their lives to Jimmy’s house, with fWhip determined to see Jimmy again, against all odds. Apocalypse, but not in the zombie sense— think more like if sculk was a bit more fucked up. This one has all of its current writing posted [here!]

Superhero AU: You know the trope of “villain goes to superhero’s doorstep, super injured, and is like ‘I didn’t know where else to go’?” That, but it’s Jimmy going to fWhip, and fWhip is more of a vigilante than a hero, and Jimmy doesn’t necessarily… like… get redeemed. I remember this one had a long section in the notes about how Jimmy is a villain by choice, not because he was forced to be.

Antique shop AU: Nondescript and I went off for a While about this one, which created [this post]— basically, Pix runs an antique shop in a college town, and he hears about the lives of fWhip and Jimmy when they visit his shop

Android fWhip AU— or, hey what if the reason empires one fWhip survived the blast was because he wasn’t human at all, and nobody knew until Gem finds him in the wreckage? And then there’s the whole situation with— well, how do you just not notice that your brother is an android? This one had a whole scene where Gem takes a mangled fWhip over to Mezalea, as one of the last standing empires, and Joel tries to help them repair fWhip. I made [art] for this one, which is the only thing this AU has so far

There are a lot more, but I think that’ll do for now! I’d be happy to answer any questions about any of these, or any of my other writing :D !!

(As for tagging folks, I don’t wanna bother too many people, but if @blocksruinedme or @stitchthesewords wanna share any AU’s, go wild my friends!)

#umbrify talks #umbrify writes #thanks for the tag Lew I have spent Hours on this post #counted all my AU’s and I have Twenty. so. #I’m not cramming twenty AU’s into this post <3

[morgana-ren]

something i wonder about for not ascended astarion. he spent those 200 years just eating rats and whatever cazador let him, he had to survive. and its not that he doesnt like being a vampire right? but he was surviving and suddenly with the tadpoles he has a lot less restrictions and abusive oversight.

once cazador is dead, i wonder how his bad days go remembering all that. how he handles dealing with what he is for the rest of eternity, since i doubt he had enough time to address trauma while it was happening. if he has any issues with drinking from people kind of like how he has issues with sleeping with others.

but maybe not since cazador wouldnt let him before and tav/companions are the first he drinks from, and not against his will. i dunno, just something i think about and wanna hug him over lol. sorry for the ramble

My guess? The same way we all live with trauma. In the way that, during the day, you are alive and you are breathing and you focus on the sun shining. You focus on the light in front of you, and not the memories flashing behind your eyes. You keep your claws away from your skin, and your mind from straying into the dark that waits, inky and twisting and sick, around every corner. Every scent. Every sight. You focus. You keep busy. You live, because it is all you can do. Your grief is a living thing that breathes and follows you, but it is polite and will sometimes stay quiet when there are other people speaking.

You do not think about the crisis that will come when night falls and all is quiet. You do not think about the taste of blood being so foreign even as you've needed it for years. About the things only your pillow knows. About the nightmares that will plague you, and the memories that etch themselves onto your soul like stone, and the way you still flinch at footsteps and voices. About the body that, even as it is yours, you cannot fully control because when your heart races or your eyes strain or the panic flows through your veins like a poison, you still cannot control it and even as the pain has stopped, your body remembers. It will always remember.

You do not think about the demon that peeks its head in from the closet door of the past uninvited every night, no matter how many times you lock it. The demon with their face and their memory and their touch and their claws and scent and it feels real even as you once spit on their corpse.

But Astarion doesn't really get that, does he? There is no sun shining. There is not even living. There is a man who is dead because his life was taken from him. A man who does not even know his own face because it was also taken from him. A man who cannot look to the light and the sun because his autonomy was taken from him. There is a man who cannot feel warmth because he will die again, for real this time, and it is the second death that hurts the most. The death you choose. The death you deny yourself. Where you must weigh your options and decide what it is all worth and take inventory of your own hoarding brain-- hoarding memories and sensations and feelings that no longer have a place and a home and a shelf. Repugnant trash you do not want in your house. You want them gone. But where do you put them?

His body is laden with scars he cannot see, cannot come to peace with, cannot face, even if he wants to. Phantom pain that will ache forever because scars that deep cause tissue damage and you feel them when you move and you breathe and it rains. His body was not his own. He will struggle to remember it is his body now. His skin. His scars. His body. His life. His choice. Said over and over like a mantra. To remember. To keep remembering.

He will slink around his own house like a ghost sometimes. Quiet and subtle. Deliberate. Even as it is his home, old habits die hard. He will awaken to noises you can't hear. He will expect him. He won't meditate. He will have questions that no one can answer because he is of a monstrous and forsaken kind that took him and abandoned him and left him with the questions of a child in a skin suit. He will flinch at touch-- even gentle, consensual touch meant to soothe him-- before he will relax. And one time that relax will become a deep, horrible, wrenching sob. And it will keep happening because that dam gets harder to build every time.

He won't want to talk. Sometimes he will. There's no rhyme or reason. It's like the tides of a sea that he rides and even he cannot control. All he knows is he is looking for some kind of land. Any kind of shelter. Something in the storm. All he can do is follow the currents and hope you follow.

He will have mood swings. He will crave touch and yet be repulsed by it. You must be careful. He will have to learn autonomy and consent all over again, and have to learn his own consent because that voice in his head is still there that tells him it is not his own. He will have to wrestle with the switch in his head because there is a cage over it with a key that he keeps forgetting he has. He will come to believe once again that he is a burden. That this is not your fault, and it's not fair you be expected to deal with it. He will suck it up. He will lash out. He will break down. He will cycle. He will do as mortal men do, even as he is not mortal.

He will be irrational and angry. He will feel sorrow at it. He will not understand his own feelings because he is not used to them being his feelings. What he wanted never mattered. They were not his feelings to have. And now he has too fucking many of them and they are falling around him like fucking leaves and severing and cracking into a billion more complex feelings and it doesn't matter how you heap them, it just turns into a giant mushy pile of what do you want from me? while they pile and pile and pile and rot and decay around you.

And it builds and it builds and it builds and it fills your lungs like fetid fucking water until you cannot breathe and it seeps out of your eyes and your very pores and infects everything around you.

And he has eternity to hoard. To cope. To feel. To find a way to stuff skeletons in the closet and organize his own head and learn to live in it again. To find a comfortable place in his own skin. He has an eternity. Whether he wants it or not. Yet another aspect taken from him. The choice to be natural. To die side by side with your partner of old age and contentment. He will outlive them, or he will curse them. There is no middle. Every time he looks at you, he will see the outline of your skull, and the fragility of your form. He will watch as you grow old and surpass him. He becomes your boyfriend to your husband to your son to your grandson. He is as beautiful as the day you met him. He tells you that you are too.

The world moves around him. He watches it through red eyes, a crimson veil between him and life, seeing everything, but unmoving with it. It passes him by. He cannot touch it, not truly. He is a man in a monster in a coffin. His comfort items will decay. His clothes will fray. His ring will break. His life will go on. His coffin will fill with bones. Just never his.

It will haunt him and hurt him and stalk him until he faces it. Because he is dead, he will need to learn to live again. He will need to learn to feel warmth. To see the sun where there is none. To cherish the fleeting and lament the dying-- two luxuries he does not have.

He will need to learn to fit his body back on every night like a glove and relearn how to puppet it. Learn that it is his. That it is wholly under his control. That no one gets to touch it if he does not say so. That he does not have to touch anyone. That no one is entitled to him. That he is entitled to no one. That this is good and okay and his body is not a weapon or a gift to be threatened or given. It is his home where he lives, and no one is allowed inside if he does not want it. He does not need to give a reason. It is not a fleabag hotel; it is a home-- his. The world has sucked him dry. He is the vampire, but in his home, you do not get to come if you are not invited.

He will need to learn he is not a burden. That it is okay to be angry. That it is okay to be furious. That it is okay to feel sorrow so heart-wrenching it feels as if your unbeating heart is being carved out with a knife even as there is no one wielding it. It is okay to scream and cry and shout. It is okay to need support. It is okay to collapse even as you have it. It is okay to lean on those who love you. It is okay to turn to Tav and just need something. Love, support, a hug-- silence.

Most of all, he needs to mourn. He needs to mourn his own death. Mourn his tragedy. Mourn his parents and the life he lived. Mourn the man he was. Mourn all that life has dealt him. Mourn every ounce of time he lost. Even as the hourglass stopped moving, the sand is still in the bottom. He can still feel the weight of it. Still sift his hands through it and feel it slip through his fingers. Mourn the man so that he can truly be born again.

He is shown that he is willing. Symbolically, he accepts this challenge. He feels certain. He feels ready.

And he can do it.

It will take time. It will take love and support from others and from himself. He needs to allow himself to be. Just to be Astarion. To delegate time to finding out who that really is. Who he really is. What he wants. What he is okay with. What he is ready for and what he doesn't like. He did not have a body and a soul for so long. He was a vessel. Now he is putting back pieces of himself together from where they were cast, stitching them together carefully, trying to figure out what they mean and trying to find pieces of himself to fill them with.

He has to accept himself. Become himself. He is Astarion the vampire spawn. He needs blood to live. This is an immutable truth. No amount of railing against it will stop this. You must live with your demons side by side, but you do not have to hold the devil's hand. You can accept them. And in time, they become more and more quiet. Less and less prominent. The shadow shrinks and allows room for light. You just have to be open to finding your own sun to bask in and find happiness in the smell of the leaves that pile around you endlessly. To swallow the water bits at a time rather than drowning. To learn to not love the scars, but accept them, and let other people see them and help you. Because he cannot see himself, but the friends that love him can, and like he once said: He could do worse.

I believe he will be okay. He has the strength. He just has to yank it out of himself.

#morgana and friends #astarion #tw trauma #I just rambled here again #The journey after the journey warrants speculation #Helping him find himself and learn to fight the shadows #Helping him become a better man #one who can look back and go 'I made it.' #Sort of like we all do