#// lengths will vary. whatever my brain comes up with in the moment.

[mythcaels-a]

like for a short thing from my ocs that have the highest muse right now:

Shiragiku, Noboru, Kiyoshige, Kamryn, Emery, Yami, Hinane, Mio, Tae, Yoshizo, Belle, Briar, Ceri, Koneko, Vale, Mako, Ithil, Ilyon, Arata, Lesley & Theo.

[totheblood]

superposition. (two)

pairing: dealer!ellie x best friend!reader

summary: ellie gives you lesson number two and you get an A on your test! yay.

warnings: 18+, SMUT, cursing, alcohol/drug mention, suggestive themes... cheating if u squint... the ai audios for this one is?????? just don't listen to it around people pls

a/n: smut is so not my strong suit but like... i tried!! please know i'd love feed back and all reblogs and replies and asks are welcomed and encouraged... i love u all so bad i hope u like this.. ai audios at the end are again... steamy?

read part one to this fic here!

"why dont we collide the spaces that divide us?"

You think your first date was a success.

Malia, your date, did everything right. She held open the door for you, made you laugh, and walked you home with your hand in hers. Her hands were soft, contrasting Ellie’s calloused fingers and dry hands, and by the end of the walk they had grown clammy. She smelled like coconut milk and pink pepper, and her ginger hair stretched passed her shoulders. When she spoke her tone was gentle, her words almost sickly sweet as they fell from her lips. On paper she was perfect.

But as the two of you approached your apartment building and her cherry-flavored lips met yours, it wasn’t like you had imagined. You were unsure if you sitting in Ellie’s lap earlier that night had anything to do with the sour taste left in your mouth as you gave her another kiss goodnight, but it certainly wasn’t helping.

“We should do this again.” Malia practically shouted as you walked up the stairs to your building's entrance. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“We should,” An odd feeling settled in your chest. “Text me, yeah?”

“Okay, I will.” Her smile held warmth in it, her cheeks growing red. It was obvious she was really into the date and while your chest swelled with pride, it also didn’t swell with the same affection she was harboring. A part of you assumed that love didn’t happen gradually and that your feelings would only grow as time went on, but you couldn’t be sure of that at this moment. All you knew was that she was practically perfect, but she wasn’t Ellie.

The whole night all you could think about was the fact that everything she did was the complete opposite of what Ellie would do. Your whole brain felt muddy as you searched around in your bag for keys wondering why you suddenly felt the need to compare your date to your best friend. It would never work out between you and Ellie anyways… right?

It wasn’t like you hadn’t found Ellie attractive when you first met her, but you were inexperienced and way too shy to flirt with her. As a result, the friend zone became a permanent place for you and Ellie. There was a comfortable haze that settled in the air when you were with her and it was a growing fear of yours that something could jeopardize it, and knowing Ellie that was entirely plausible. 

You wouldn’t go to the lengths of saying that Ellie was a ‘fuck boy’ but it was clear she got around. On many different occasions, you had let yourself into her apartment and been met with varying girls, all of whom Ellie claimed she would never call back. You had to actively ignore the disappointment you felt each time you interrupted her with someone, and the anxiety at your throat when she claimed she was already over them. You knew Ellie would never abandon you like that, but it was still a possibility.

Whatever feelings you had when you first met her, however, were now shoved down into a deep place in your brain that was threatening to come to the surface again. You didn’t want her to be anything but ‘your Ellie’ and you desperately wanted to remain ‘her petal’. At this moment there was nothing more important to you than keeping the small semblance of domestic bliss that you had with her.

As you hung up your bag and began to take off your coat you felt your phone vibrate in the pocket. It was almost perfect timing from Ellie seeing as you would have spent the entire night searching for your phone and thinking Malia had robbed you. 

E: How’s the date going? Or how did it go? 

E: Unsure of my timing rn.

Y: it WENT well… she was cute

E: Did you use any of my techniques?

Y: no nothing happened, we just kissed goodnight and then she left

Y: plus you didn’t teach me any techniques you just made out with me

Y: hoping that was free lesson cause idk if i can afford the ellie williams tuition

E: That’s boring.

E: No action? I mean it’s Friday night.

E: It’s always gonna be free for you, Petal.

Y:  no action :( 

E: Poor baby. 

E: We should fix that.

E: Want me to come over? We can smoke and you can tell me all about this very boring date.

Y: IT WASN’T BORING STOP THAT

Y: and yes, my answer is always going to be yes to smoking with u

E: When you got so high that one time and bit me…

E: Don’t bite me again.

E: Wait actually…

Y: perv

E: Shut up.

You got undressed and changed into the same outfit that you slept in every night, an old t-shirt and grey sweatshirts. For a moment you contemplated not taking off your makeup, wanting to look nice for Ellie, but your need for comfort won you over this time. It wasn’t too long later that Ellie was making her way into your apartment and placing her backpack down on the floor. You moved to stand in the doorframe of your bedroom shooting a pointed look at Ellie.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” She removed her coat and threw it over the couch revealing her own casual outfit underneath: A loose t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Fuck, she looked good in those swea-

 “You should really knock, Ellie,” This same lecture had poured from your mouth every time she did this, but she never stopped. Truth be told, Ellie liked the idea of coming home to you, just letting herself in and setting her shit down as she had just done. It was a small act in the large umbrella of romantically ambiguous things the two of you had gotten used to doing.

If Ellie was being honest with herself she would finally admit that whatever relationship the two of you had always bordered on the verge of no longer being platonic. She would just find herself doing things for you that she would never do for anyone else. She always let you smoke for free, voted on whatever movie you wanted to watch during movie night just to see you smile, and she was doing shit like she had done tonight. 

The minute you left for your date Ellie was glued to her phone, patiently waiting for you to tell her the date went to shit and that you needed her to come over and light up with you. As the night went on Ellie found herself anxiously bouncing her leg and obsessively checking your location. She was supposed to be working tonight, but instead, she was cyberstalking her best friend who was on a date. This time it was her turn to feel like a loser.

“Then why did you give me a key?” She walked over to you, hands in her pockets as she leaned up against your door frame. Your oversized t-shirt swallowed you whole hiding the shorts you had on underneath. You looked so at home, so comfortable, and everything in Ellie’s head turned to mush as she imagined pulling you into her by your hips and kissing the lecture right off your lips.

“For emergencies.” Your eyes instinctively rolled at her but you knew you could never be mad at her. You secretly liked it as much as she did. 

“I thought it was an emergency. You know, that your date was sooo boring that you needed me to come and take care of you.” From her pocket she pulled out a skinny plastic container, popping open the top with her pointer and thumb and shaking the joint into her hand. “Plus, I bought you free weed so you can’t be too mad at me, Petal.”

“It wasn’t boring, stop saying that.” You took the joint from her hand and led her over to your side table where you kept your lighter. Placing the tip of the joint between your lips you attempted to light your lighter as you sat on your bed, but failed. 

“The fact that you still don’t know how to use your lighter is beyond me.” Ellie walked over to you, taking the lighter from your hands. “What would you do without me?” 

You were about to roll your eyes when Ellie’s free hand found the bottom of your chin, lifting it up slowly so you were looking up at her from your place on the bed. She towered over you in this position, her eyes trained on your lips where her joint was hanging from your mouth. She quickly lit the lighter and loosely grabbed your chin, bringing it close to her other hand where she lit the joint for you. She was unsure of where this bout of confidence came from, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t have several fantasies about you that began this way. 

Dazed, you stared up at her watching her hooded green eyes take you in. For a moment, you forgot what you were doing when she knocked her knees gently against yours. 

“Suck.” She commanded, voice low and sultry. In response your eyebrows knit together in confusion, not fully understanding what she was trying to say. “The joint, Petal. Take a hit.” 

Her voice came out in a whisper that would have made your knees weak if you were standing up, but you happily obeyed her, taking a drag. You took a deep inhale allowing the familiar burn to sit comfortably in your chest. Ellie removed her hand from your chin and sat down next to you. You almost whined at the loss of contact. 

As you usually did, you passed the joint over to Ellie, watching as she took a hit and blew smoke into the room. She was in her element, here with you and taking care of you in the only way she knew how. All of the things she refused to share with you were shoved deep down into a place she was forgetting the name of right now. All that mattered was you.

 When she passed it back to you she smiled, watching as your eyes became half-lidded and calm. You were in your soft place, a perfect place to stop. Ellie took another hit and clipped it, shoving it back into its original container and back into her pocket. 

“So,” She began, leaning back on both her hands and turning towards you. “How did it actually go?”

“I think it went well,” You smiled causing Ellie to instinctively smile back at you. “She was cute, really nice, laughed at all my jokes.”

“She must really like you then,” Ellie laughed to herself. “Cause your jokes are shit.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” You giggled, leaning into her. When you sat back upright Ellie had a wide grin planted on her face. 

“What?” You questioned her.

“Did you kiss her?” Ellie’s smile faltered slightly, her eyes telling her true intentions. She wanted to know if the girl you went on a date with was a better kisser than her. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously.

“Was it good?” Ellie’s smile was completely gone by this point.

“Not as good as with you.” You confessed, and just like that Ellie’s smile was back. “I mean it just wasn’t as good, but it was a first date what do I expect? Maybe it’ll be better next time.” Gone, again.

“Next time?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see where it goes.” You shrugged, matching Ellie's posture with your hands behind you.

“Maybe you just need more lessons.” Her eyes were fixed on yours, red and glossed over. 

“Maybe.” You blinked over at her, mouth going dry. “What are you getting out of it?”

“I’m just a really good friend, I guess.” She joked, hitting your shoulder with hers.

“Yea.” You whispered, eyes glancing at her lips.

“Ready for another lesson, Petal?” Her voice was steady, her high giving her the confidence sobriety couldn’t. All you could do in response was nod. She pushed herself off the bed and gently tapped the side of your exposed thigh. “Okay, lay back on the bed for me.” 

Quickly, you obliged, lifting your legs onto your floral bedsheet. Everything around you felt like silk from your high, the sheets, Ellie’s hands, the pillow that you rested your head on. 

“Good girl.” Ellie smiled, getting back on the bed, and sitting on her knees with her legs tucked underneath her. Gently, she leaned forward and pressed a soft peck on your lips, wiping off any trace of Malia. It wasn’t like the kiss the two of you shared earlier, your tongues weren’t down each other's throats and her hands remained at her side. It was slow, tantalizing almost, and when she pulled away a girlish smile spread across her face. When she sat back on her knees her hand hovered over your stomach. “It’s okay if I touch you here?”

You were rendered speechless, she was being so soft and gentle with you that it made you like putty in her hands. You eagerly nodded, causing Ellie to laugh. “I’ll tell you everything I’m doing, Petal. Maybe you’ll be able to teach your boring date what to do next time.” Her hands slipped under your shirt and skimmed the base of your stomach. Your breath hitched in your throat, hindering any ability to tell her your date wasn’t boring. At this point, she could say whatever she wanted to you and you would take it. 

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” Your eyes peered down at her, nodding once again. She pulled your shorts and underwear down together, painfully slow. She let them rest at your knees and lifted up your shirt that was covering your center. Suddenly, you felt extremely shy but didn’t make an effort to stop her. 

“You look so pretty, Petal.” She cooed as if she could read your mind. “Almost want to kiss it.”

“You can.” You weakly replied, knowing you were dripping from her words alone.

“Not so fast. We haven’t gotten there, yet. Basics, Petal. I thought you knew this.” Ellie leaned forward and pressed a kiss below your belly button, earning a whimper from you. 

“Be as loud as you need, okay?” Another kiss, another whimper. “I wanna hear you.” She moved to kiss you on the inside of your thigh. A gasp fell from your lips causing Ellie to smile against your skin. “Need you to tell me how good I’m doing.” 

“I’m gonna touch you now,” Her pointer and middle finger tapped your clit. Ellie was so focused on your cunt that she didn’t see your mouth fall open. “Right here.” 

Slowly she began rubbing tiny circles into your clit, applying light pressure. Your eyes fluttered closed, and a small moan escaped from your lips. Almost as if on cue, Ellie began applying more pressure, her eyes now focused on your contorting face.  

“Hey, hey, look at me.” She coaxed making your eyes glance at her. She looked so pretty, so focused on you that it made your pussy clench around nothing. “Feel good?”

Another nod.

“Use your words.” She picked up her pace making you scream out. Ellie almost moaned herself, just at the sight of you. “Mhm…Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

“Fuck, Ellie,” Your breathing was jagged as you felt a knot tighten in your stomach. “It feels so,” She applied a little more pressure, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. “Fuck.” 

“You’re doing so well, baby.” Her movements were calculated, and her words were only egging you on.

“Ellie, I think I’m gonna-”

“Do it. Cum. I know you can do it, baby.” She was pressing hard and fast circles into you and leaned forward to press another kiss into the inside of your thigh. All it took was the words of encouragement from her and you were coming undone, screaming out her name in between rapid breaths. When Ellie was sure you were done she pulled her hand away and licked her fingers.

You collapsed into the bed, eyes closed and trying to steady your breathing. When you opened them Ellie was gone, causing you to sit up sharply, wondering if you had just fantasized what just happened. 

“Ellie?” You called out, looking towards your door where she was returning with a washcloth in her hands. 

“Just needed to get this.” She lifted up the washcloth and shook it as she sat back down next to you on the bed. “You kind of made a mess.” She chuckled. 

“Oh,” was all you said as you glanced down to where you were dripping onto your bed. 

“Can I?” You nodded, ignoring her red cheeks as she cleaned you up. 

“Thanks for that.” You started as you watched Ellie pull your pants back up. “I’ll see if I can teach Malia anything. I think your lessons will really help, you know.” And just like that the gentle smile that Ellie had plastered on her face since she began cleaning you up was gone. 

It was almost as if a part of her believed she could fuck you into loving her but it was becoming increasingly obvious these really were just lessons to you. 

“Yeah.” She sighed, standing up and throwing the washcloth in your hamper. “I should get going. It’s getting late.” 

“Oh, okay.” You smiled up at her, hoping to see her smile back. She didn’t. “Text me when you get home?”

“Will do.” 

And just like that she was gone.

ai audios:

[cthulhusstepmom]

The Horsegirl-ification of Gideon Coal

“Kremy, are you absolutely certain this is a good idea? I think it would be fairly obvious to anyone with a brain that these are simply mundane horses.” 

Leaning against the only mostly unstable temporary fence that the hands had constructed for this stretch, Kremy offers Frost a sharp toothed grin where he paces off to his right. 

“That’s the thing you gotta understand Frost: it doesn’t matter if they’re real or not. The kids will believe it and the parents will pay for it.” 

“Yeah and some people are just stupid plain man!” Gideon adds, leaning back on the inside of the fence.

“That’s exactly right! Even the halfway intelligent folks will pay just to see how fake they look.” 

Frost grumbles but seems to acquiesce, eyes turned away as the pattering sounds of bear feet and bare feet approach the paddock.

“Gricko! Did you bring what I asked for?”

“I did indeed, but first and most importantly-” the goblin pauses for dramatic effect. “Look at how precious Hootsie is with her little unicorn horn! Ooh aren’t you the most precious unicowlbear!” And she is precious, toddling behind her father with a bulging satchel and a headband with a unicorn horn attached to it. Allowing Gricko his moment, Kremy steps forward and retrieves the satchel from Hootsie, making a mental note along the lines of ‘mule and enforcer, pay in rats’. Within the satchel is a selection of wooden horns, ranging in length from about six inches to eighteen, each with varying texture, weight, and stain. 

“Gricko this is incredible! You did all of this last night?” Kremy asks, only half paying attention to any answer he may receive.

“I told you I was good with my hannnds Kremy.” He slurs slightly, wobbling just the smallest bit.

“I had taken that for a sexual euphemism. I apologize.” Frost says, taking one of the horns and examining it. 

“Well I did have a lot of Trice Melon.” 

“The fuck is a trice melon?” Gideon cocks his head.

“A try smellin deez nuts.”

“You’re fucking dead as soon as I’m over this fence you son of a bitch! I’ll kill you, you’re brain’s gonna splatter all over this fucking-”

“Gid Gid Gid!” Kremy placates with a hand to Gideon’s already heaving chest. “Gricko’s just tired, let’s not destroy all of Turblek’s or whatever his name is hard work and torch the paddock while we’re at it hmm? Frost, would you kindly take Gricko to bed?” 

“Yes, that would seem to be the best course of action. Come along Gricko, I’ll let you finish today’s sudoku puzzle.”

“Eugh you can keep it Frosty, you know I hate the number ones.”

Turning away, Kremy startles for a moment when he realizes his hand is still on Gideon’s chest; quickly dismisses how Gid hasn’t protested its placement. 

“Right, now we can get some fucking work done. You have the glue?” 

“Right here.” He smiles, gesturing to a glass filled with a viscous amber substance. “And I already tested it, it washes right out. Frosty may be missing a few patches of hair from tries one through four.” 

Kremy puzzles for a moment. “Where?”

“You don’t want to know man.”

The horses in the paddock are serene, grazing and mingling amongst each other with nary a care in the world. After a long week of travel they’ve certainly enjoyed the day of rest while carnies run to and fro setting up the tents and attractions. They’re a motley crew, ranging in size from a couple of ponies all the way up to a handful of old drafts. Kremy isn’t sure where most of them came from, being perfectly honest. 

When they’d first upgraded to wagons over tents he had allowed Gideon to guide the majority of the purchasing. Walking in lock step, trying to understand all the technical things he had to say; Offering his own input where it mattered and then haggling the price down as Gid loomed over his shoulder. He hadn’t had the slightest idea where to get horses beyond a livery stable and that wouldn’t do if they were to be moving long distances. Gid had disappeared into the crowd at a pub one night before returning with a grin and leading Kremy to an auction house on the edge of town. Kremy had felt like a sore thumb as they’d perused their options, Gideon occasionally stopping to run his hands over one horse or another, asking questions or sharing jokes that flew completely over his head. When it came to the actual auction, Gideon had leant down beside him, breath steaming in his ear as he instructed him what to bid, when to fold and when to press. That night they walked out with eight horses and two mules and, Gideon assured him, good deals on all of them.

Since then their little herd had grown, not from any auction house trip however. No, some days on his free nights, when he wasn’t tinkering with his rigged games, lounging in their shared wagon while Kremy did paperwork, or out on the hunt for a good time, Gideon would simply wander off. Never so abruptly that it would be hard to follow him necessarily, but gone all the same. And he’d come back with another horse. Usually it wouldn’t be much to look at, skinny or scarred up or old or lame. But over time and under Gideon’s watchful care, dull coats would turn glossy and haunted eyes would turn warm. 

So Kremy doesn’t need to know where they come from, only that they’re theirs now. 

Such a saccharine sentiment doesn’t do much to make this any easier however.

“Fuck!” he yelps, yanking his hand back as the little pony nips at him once again. “Would you kindly fucking stand still and let put the stupid horn on your stupid head!” 

If horses had eyebrows one of them would certainly be raised in defiance as the pony most decidedly does not stand still, kindly or otherwise.

“Woah what’s going on over here man?” 

“My patience is being tried.” Kremy tries not to sulk, defeated by an undersized horse.

He can see the laugh bubbling in Gid’s chest as he runs eyes over the situation. Hands covered in sticky glue, bleeding from a cut that feels worse than it looks, shirt certainly ruined, and a defiant pony staring him down like he’s the bad guy here.

“Alright Witch Stomper he’s had enough. C’mere let’s get you sorted.” And like magic the pony turns and trots up to his partner like a dog fed from the table; allowing him to affix the curling black horn to its forehead with little difficulty. 

“I’m telling you Gid something’s wrong with that animal, it has evil in its eyes.” He growls, straightening his clothes as best he can without sticking anything together. 

“Ah c’mon you kidding me? Stomper’s a good boy, he can just tell you’re not comfortable with him. Taking advantage of your inexperience, that's all man.” A single piercing blue eye glares into Kremy’s soul for just a moment too long before the pony tosses its head and moves off to continue whatever nefarious deeds it was in the midst of before Kremy came along. “C’mon we’ve only got a couple more to do.”

And so it seems. While Kremy was engaged in his battle of wills, Gid had gone through most of the other horses. Following close behind the larger man, all the while keeping a watchful eye for a vengeful pony, Kremy admires the ease that Gideon has with the animals. Hulking beasts eagerly offering their noses for a quick pat or snuffling into pockets for treats, letting this man walk among them and accepting him with zero hesitation. 

“Lady and Stormy should be it, you have the bag?” He hands the second to last horn over to Gid, offering the glue with it. “There we go, s’all right girl. It’s okay, it’s okay.” He continues, voice low and comforting as he approaches the mare.

Lady is their newest acquisition, or Gid’s newest acquisition to be more accurate. A pinto with patches of russet and a bold white stripe running up her face. She’s a pretty thing, even to Kremy’s untrained eye, but she’s skittish and along her coat he can see patterns of scars that would probably point to something if he knew more about horses. She’s been in their company for about a month but she’s still tentative at best and downright flighty at worst. None of the hands can even get close to her when it’s time to get hitched up and ready to go, leaving her instead solely to Gid and their wagon at the head of the train, paired up in a team with an old mule Kremy thinks is named Rusty, one of the originals that they’d purchased at the auction.

Looking at her now you wouldn’t know it, with how calm she is as the horn is carefully glued to her head.

Gideon looks over his shoulder, stroking the mare’s flank while the glue sets up.

“C’mere, give her a pat.” He holds out a hand, beckoning insistently. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Gid, you know horses don’t like me.” Kremy crosses his arms in front of himself, it’s something in his gator heritage he’s sure. The scent of a predator or some such thing. 

Gid huffs a laugh.

“This look like a horse to you? You are looking at a 100% bona fide unicorn.” 

Kremy huffs if only to stifle a laugh. “Gods are you stupid.” 

Still he moves forward. Tentatively at first but when the mare stays in place a small bit more confidence creeps into his step. He’s just a step past Gideon when Lady blows a worried breath through her nostrils, pinning her ears back and pawing at the soft summer grass with one hoof. Hurriedly he begins to take a step back, only to collide with a wall of warmth as Gid steps forward behind him. It stuns him for a moment, robs him of words as his head is filled with hot air and thoughts of warm laughs and cigar smoke. 

“That’s it, it’s okay.” 

Kremy’s not sure if he’s talking to him or the horse. 

“Gimme your hand.” As if saying no was an option at this point.

His hand fits well in Gideon’s but that’s no surprise; he’s watched those clever hands long enough to do the arithmetic. His brain nearly leaks out of his ears like a poorly sealed shepherd's pie when he feels another hand on his waist, guiding him with gentle pressure to take another step forward; and another. Until he’s standing so close he can smell the scent of horse sweat and well oiled tack leather, a scent that follows Gideon. Gently, mostly of his own initiative after a little encouragement, he lays one hand on the flank of the mare, brushing over it with an almost delicate touch. When she doesn’t make any move to startle away he scratches through the short hairs of her hide like he would a dog. It’s relaxing, oddly: simply petting this animal, feeling the rise and fall of its great billowing lungs. Admiring the power of it, the beauty. Absorbing Gideon’s heat at his back. 

“Ain’t that something.” Kremy doesn’t look up, doesn’t need to, can feel a pair of dark eyes on his face. 

“You know Gid, horses aren’t really my pot of gumbo so to speak. But, I think I might come around to unicorns.”

anyone else notice that line at the end of ep. 48?

Kremy, approaching the unicorn, "What does Gid do?"

just me? amazing.

[whumperhive]

Amaranthine Apricity

Woah my first post on here being a choose-your-own-adventure??? Yeah. I am impulsive and I've seen a few going around so!!! My turn >:3 Length of polls may vary, as I am still in school! Some may be a day, some may be a week! Please be patient with me! Contents: Lab whump, pet whump, whumpee pov. (for now!)

Waking up, you're sore, aching in the way that not moving for too long is. You're groggy, sluggish, reaching out with a weak hand with your eyes closed. It's foggy as you come to awareness, noises fuzzy and your thoughts muffled. It's as if you're under water... or, well, gelatin would be the right comparison. Either way, you're slow to recognize your surroundings. Your eyes remain closed for now as you attempt to ground yourself, trying to remember where you were, what happened.. You press your hands into whatever you're laying on. It takes a moment, struggling for your brain to recognize what you're feeling...

[mischief-lies-and-stories]

Loki Series Theories (this number is not accurate) 6/?, aka My Brain Hates Me

My brain at 1am: Let's go to sleep by mentally writing Loki season two, episode 1 but make it way more lokius than it's canonically going to be.

Me, finally settling in for a Loki bedtime story after a month of Good Omens nonsense: Okay.

My brain: *Dumps this theory on me*

Theory: Loki is time-slipping because he's not supposed to be back.

No one who was pruned has ever come back to the TVA or the main timeline before. It's causing shit. Similar to how in other media having two versions of a character existing at the same time or in the same universe would cause a paradox that fucks shit up and in some cases (I can't think of specific examples at this time) the universe would make one of the versions cease to exist to correct the paradox, pruning is meant to be permanent. It sends you to the Void, where (and I'm making some assumptions here; I'm not sure if these are the exact intentions) Alioth is meant to devour your existence sooner or later. (Loki is right on Lamentis; Lokis survive. But that doesn't mean they escape the Void. Once you're in the Void I don't think the TVA gives much of a shit what happens to you after that.) Whatever pruning is really meant to accomplish, you're not supposed to come back from it; the sparky version of the Melt Stick is a one-way ticket.

Except Loki comes back. Sylvie sends him back. (My alternative theory to this is that Loki is time-slipping because Sylvie sent him to a parallel universe and he's causing a paradox, but for the purposes of this theory, I'm saying she sent him to the correct TVA but in entering the Citadel and stabbing He Who Remains the timeline is already so fucked even the legit TVA is getting weird.) He's supposed to remain in the Void. This is causing some wonky shit to go down, manifesting in Loki's time-slipping, even in the TVA, which OB says in the trailer is not supposed to be possible.

Now, of course there are some holes you can start poking in this theory. I have counterarguments (which, I'll remind you, I came up with at 1 am, so are varying degrees of flimsy at this point).

But Sylvie also came back from the Void. We see her in the trailer (and commercials) at McDonald's and various other locations both alone and with Loki. She doesn't just stay in the Citadel. Well, she's time-slipping, too. Marvel has a history of being very careful with revealing spoilers and plot twists during trailers or sneak peeks, to the point of going to some controversial lengths in the past. If they showed her also time-slipping we'd be able to work out the connection that they're slipping because they came back from the Void, and for the moment at least, they seem to want to keep the reason why Loki's slipping a mystery. So either they're carefully editing scenes with Sylvie around her own time-slipping moments, or only showing us the parts after Loki and Mobius manage to fix her time-slipping, since in the beginning of the trailer, we see Loki slipping seemingly every few seconds or minutes, and then later on (especially around Sylvie) he seems to be going much longer without slipping or not slipping at all (at least in how much of the scene they show). This seems to imply that the problem either gets fixed somewhat quickly so that it's not ongoing throughout the season, or that at first he's time-slipping very frequently but eventually they are able to delay it longer.

But Mobius also came back from the Void. He gets back before the other two. We see him in the finale in two separate places in the TVA (or two versions of him in two TVAs), and both times, he seems free of glitching. Well, they wiped his memory (again) when he got back. Maybe this either fixed the time-slipping or they also fixed that at the same time they wiped his memory. Alternatively, this is an alternate version of him. He's not time-slipping because this version was never pruned. Alternatively, he's also time-slipping, like Sylvie, and like Sylvie, the trailer has been carefully edited to cut out this information.

Canon Likelihood: Likely

I genuinely think both Loki and Sylvie are time-slipping because they came back from pruning. I don't think at the time we reunite with Mobius in the finale, whether this is an alternate Mobius or a memory-wiped Mobius, he's time-slipping. I'm about 50% hopeful they will explain why he's the only one of the trio who isn't and won't just leave another gaping Grand-Canyon-sized plot hole.

[ot7always]

In the Dead of Night

banner courtesy of the wonderfully talented @dee-ehn​ !

Word Count: 14.5k

Pairing: Vampire!Jin x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, friends to lovers, smut, fluff

Warnings: dom!Jin, sub!Reader, non-gory blood and knife injury (it’s there, but mostly humorous and/or with very little specific description), biting (like actual biting), vampire compulsion (nothing concerning consent-wise), marking, hair pulling, grinding, size kink, spanking (hand), fingering, praise, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare

Rating: 18+

Summary: Courtesy of my roommate, who summarized my story much better than I ever could:

A/N: It’s finally here! I meant for this to be about half the length and be released more than a week or 2 ago, but as you very well know, things don’t exactly go as planned in 2020. Regardless, I enjoyed writing this fic a lot, so please let me know what you think!

--

Saturdays at 3 am were supposed to be peaceful.

Well – at your apartment, that is. You couldn’t account for whoever elected to roam the streets of downtown at night.

But what was definitely not supposed to be happening was being awoken from your deep slumber by furious pounding on your front door.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

When you glanced groggily over at your alarm clock and saw the time, you could have screamed.

Just as you reached for your phone to call the cops on whatever psychopath was probably waking up your entire floor, your screen lit up with a text.

Suckjin [03:19]: plz open ur door

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Sliding out of bed, you hissed as your bare feet hit the cold hardwood.

This had better be fucking worth it.

Plodding out of your bedroom on tiptoes to avoid as much contact with the floor as possible, you made your way to the front door without even bothering to throw on shorts under your oversized t-shirt.

Whatever. You were sure that brat has seen thighs before.

While the knocks had thankfully quieted for a moment, he started up again just as you reached the door.

Before he could even dare bang his fist against the wood again, you were turning the deadbolt and whipping the door open, readying your fiercest glare for the broad man standing before you.

Right as you opened your mouth to start cussing him out, he sprung towards you, hands pushing you further inside your apartment and shutting the door before you could even blink.

When he turned to face you again, hands on his stomach, you prepared for the verbal onslaught you were about to send his way.

“Just what in the absolute hell do you think you’re-”

When your eyes naturally followed the path of his arms down to his stomach, what you saw there shut you up immediately.

Wide-eyed, you took a step back, eyes never leaving the sight before you. He-

As your breath quickened, a (miraculously clean) hand shot out to cover your mouth gently, though you were sure he was ready to clamp down at a moment’s notice.

“Please don’t scream.”

When you were finally able to break your gaze from his abdomen and look at his face instead, pleading eyes locked with yours, his skin paler than usual.

As frightened as you were, you calmed some when you processed the fact that he seemed to be standing before you just fine, albeit the fact that his eyes appeared somewhat unfocused.

You nodded, reaching a shaky hand up to remove his from your face, shivering at how cold and clammy he felt.

When you could speak again, you spent a few moments collecting your thoughts before you opened your mouth again.

“You - you have a knife in you!” you hissed, stepping closer to move his jacket aside to get a better look.

It wasn’t that gruesome a sight, especially not when he was wearing a black t-shirt, but it was no less jarring to have your friend show up in the middle of the night after seemingly being stabbed.

“I know that!” he hissed back, slightly exasperated, muffling a groan when you tried to inch his shirt up to glance at the skin beneath.

“Why the hell do you have a knife in you?” you whispered furiously, pulling him by the arm to settle down onto your couch.

He plopped down with a sigh of relief, his head lolling back momentarily. You hoped he knew that he was paying your cleaning bills if he bled all over your loveseat.

“Now, now, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to remove the knife if you get stabbed?” he said with a pained chuckle, sucking in a breath at the movement it caused.

“Seokjin, now is not the time to joke around,” you said, panic rising in you because you had absolutely no clue what you were supposed to do with a vampire who had a knife embedded in him. “Why did you come here?”

“Well you were the only person I could think of who would answer their door at 3 am-”

“Seokjin!”

“Sorry, sorry.” You didn’t tend to call him that unless you were genuinely annoyed, and he seemed to drop the humorous demeanor immediately.

“Why didn’t you go to a hospital?”

“I can’t go to a hospital.”

“What?! Why not?”

“Okay, correction – I didn’t want to go to a hospital.”

You let out a groan of frustration, fingers rubbing circles into your temples. This man was going to be the death of you. You had no idea why vampires seemed to have such an aversion to hospitals, but you supposed you could never understand. Despite their existence being generally accepted in society so long as they didn’t leave trails of bodies in their wake, there must have been some other reason nobody had ever shared with you.

“Seokjin, I really don’t know what to do here,” you whispered, an ounce of desperation and unease making its way into your tone. His expression softened at the sound, reaching for your hand. As much as he might have been trying to comfort you, the feeling of his hand unusually icy against yours only scared you more.

“I...” he trailed off, trying to figure out a good way to phrase this before settling on being straightforward. “...need blood.”

“Huh?” You furrowed your brow. “You literally have blood at home.”

“No, I, uhh...” he paused. “I need fresh blood to heal something like this.”

You froze. He needed fresh blood? He showed up here because he wanted... your blood?

“Aren’t there places you can go for blood?” you asked, tensing up at the notion of being bitten. It wasn’t that you were so totally opposed – it was no secret that people said it felt good. But you had never been bitten before, and you didn’t know what to think about Seokjin showing up here for that reason.

“I came here because I trust you the most,” he said, squeezing your hand. “Please. I promise I would never do this unless I had to. But please – you can say no, but tell me right now, because this hurts so much.”

Seeing his pained expression and feeling the way his fingers gripped yours like a lifeline, there was absolutely no way you were letting him back outside to roam the streets. You had no idea how this really happened to him, but despite their general acceptance, vampire hunters still existed. Like hell you were going to let easy bait walk right into their hands.

Especially not Seokjin.

“I – okay, I just – I don’t know why I’m nervous.” Biting was a pretty private, intimate thing. Most vampires drank bagged blood, with live donors only in carefully-controlled emergency clinics or heavily guarded clubs.

There was, of course, the cases of vampire-human relationships or hookups, but most people didn’t tend to share the ultra-specific details of their sex life.

Not that you had never attempted research on your own, but anecdotes you found on the internet varied so wildly that you had to wonder whether they were even telling the truth.

“I promise I can control myself. I would never put you in danger.”

“No, I know, it’s not that,” you mumbled. “Just... will it hurt?”

“Oh. No, it shouldn’t.”

“It shouldn’t? I don’t know how reassuring that is,” you chuckled nervously. You weren’t about to back out now, but you had at least hoped that he would have a straight answer for you.

He took a shaky breath, and a pang of guilt went through you for asking so many questions.

“The more attracted a vampire and donor are to each other, emotionally and physically, the better it’ll feel for you.”

“And you?”

He smirked, and curse him for making it look good despite his unfortunate... situation. “Me? I’m a vampire, it always feels good.”

Right. You might have facepalmed at the stupid question that left your own lips, but his voice momentarily distracted you from doing so.

“Anyway, I know my face isn’t a problem, so unless you secretly hate me or something, you’ll be okay,” he grinned.

“I’m so glad you can joke around right now,” you snorted derisively. “If I secretly hated you, you wouldn’t be here, would you?”

“Fair.”

“Anyway, I’ll do it, just,” you winced. “Don’t call me a donor. It feels weird.”

“Deal,” he said quickly, pulling you closer to him. “Thank you for this. Really, I owe you.”

You sighed. “I can’t just let you bleed out somewhere in the world, can I?” You allowed him to pull you close enough that you were hovering over him with your legs touching his, and you stood awkwardly in silence. “Uhh, what should I do?”

He patted his lap in invitation and your face warmed at the notion, but you straddled his legs before your brain had time to dwell on it.

He raised a hand to nudge the collar of your shirt away from your neck, his icy fingers and the sensation of his nails on your skin sending a shiver down your spine. When his thumb rubbed gently against the warmth of your neck, you had to suppress a gasp at the surprisingly intimate touch.

When you focused your gaze on his face, his eyes were not fixed on your own, but rather on the movements of his own hand, his pupils obscenely dilated. You’d never seen him look so lustful, so hungry.

Heat undeniably flared in your core (much without your consent), and it was wishful thinking to hope that Seokjin didn’t pick up on your quickening breath or rapid heartbeat.

“I...” he whispered, trailing off before he’d even begun.

“Hm?” you answered, already feeling dazed before his fangs had even touched you.

“I need you to pull the knife out.”

Well, that certainly broke you free of your trance.

“What!? Me? You – I – me?” you stuttered in a very flattering display of eloquence.

“I’m... not sure I have the strength right now,” he admitted ruefully, and you could tell that if it were really up to him, he would be doing it himself.

Just what have you gotten yourself into?

“Fine,” you murmured, raising both hands to grip firmly at the handle of the blade. “Just – don’t bite me until I put this knife down, okay? We don’t need any more... accidents.”

He failed to hold back a laugh at that, and you managed to crack a grin in response. “Okay, okay.”

To think he had you so utterly flustered and at his whim only moments ago.

“On the count of three,” you breathed, bracing yourself for something you certainly never expected anyone to ask of you. “One... two... three.”

When you reached three, you flinched your eyes shut, pulling as hard as you could in one quick burst, desperate to have this all over before it started.

The sensation was something odd and unspeakable, and you turned to toss the knife on the table behind you before you could register the uncomfortable warmth on your hands.

But the exact moment the sound of metal clattering on glass reached your ears, your head was being wrenched back by large hands, plump lips and hot breath coming into contact with your neck before you realized he’d moved.

You could barely suck in a gasp before a hand moved to grip tightly at your waist, and fangs sunk into your skin.

White-hot pain lanced through your body like electricity, and for a moment you were thinking you were done for. Seokjin was wrong, maybe he lied, and you definitely lacked the strength to push off a dying vampire determined to drink.

But just as you opened your mouth, whether to scream or cry or whatever else, you were immediately silenced, a breathy groan soon pulled from your throat.

The sudden onslaught of pleasure flowing through your limbs had you weak, your body falling limp into sensation immediately.

Clearly prepared for this outcome, Seokjin only pulled you closer to him, the hand on your waist supporting your body, a hand fisted near your scalp keeping your head back. The casual display of strength pulled a whimper from you, your body feeling hot all over.

Your eyelids fluttered closed, and you had to wonder when you had opened them at all, because you couldn’t recall processing a single thing visually since his fangs touched you.

You thought that would be as good as it gets, but the pleasure only kept building and building. It rendered you almost completely immobile, your world reduced to Seokjin at your neck, the broad planes of his body below yours, and the myriad of bliss flooding your veins. Heat was throbbing in your cunt, your nipples hard and almost pained as they rubbed against the roughness of your t-shirt.

You raised your hands that were sitting idle at your sides to fist into Seokjin’s shirt, giving no thought to the fact that he was gravely injured in that spot only minutes ago, fingers feeling almost numb and not registering the wetness that was there either.

“Ah - Jin,” you cried loudly as the bliss only built, tossing your head back to bare more of your neck.

He growled ferally into your skin, the sound going straight to your core. He pulled you closer still, enough that your breasts pressed harshly into his chest, your hips slotted together.

Sighing happily at the pressure right where you needed it most, you ground desperately against whatever you could feel against you. When you felt the undeniable hardness of Seokjin’s cock against your cunt and its delicious friction against your soaked-through panties, you moaned obscenely.

You felt rather than heard his gasp in response, his grip around you tightening even further, enough that you felt out of breath.

You whimpered at the restriction, his strength keeping you from grinding against him no matter how hard you tried.

You cursed him internally, but there was no way you were going to formulate words at this point, your mind completely lost to euphoric delirium.

It felt as though you were floating, head thrown back as sparks flew up your spine relentlessly.

Despite the lack of proper friction against your cunt, you could feel pressure building in your abdomen. You were close, so close, so undeniably close-

Fangs retracted from your neck, and the sudden loss was like ice water being thrown over your head. You shivered.

The tight grip on you loosened, Seokjin leaning into the back of the couch and groaning.

When you opened your eyes you almost fell over at the way the world spun, dizziness and blurry vision almost distracting you from the orgasm that seemed only moments away.

Almost.

Blinking furiously until you managed to fix your gaze onto Seokjin’s face, you sucked in a harsh breath at the sight before you.

Irises swimming with crimson, pupils blown out, chest heaving, dark hair mussed, lips painted red, fangs still visible past his parted lips – he looked the very picture of sin.

Fuck.

Though if you had a mirror, you would see that you looked just as ruined – eyes wanton and desperate, teeth gnawing into your bottom lip, dark bruises colouring your neck. If temptation were a person, it would be you, sitting in Seokjin’s lap with your soaked panties still pressed against the bulge in his pants.

As you stared at each other, it was as though time froze. Neither of you moved an inch, seemingly content to remain in some kind of intense, sensual staredown for the rest of time.

But you’d never claimed to be a patient person, and when you finally felt confident that your body was yours again, you acted.

If he wanted to push you away, he could have. His reflexes always seemed to almost predict the future, and you were positive that if he didn’t want this, he would have stopped you. He was never one to avoid voicing his discontent, even if it was masked as a self-deprecating joke. Some part of you deep down expected him to end this before it had even begun.

He didn’t.

Your lips met his in a depraved frenzy, too far gone to make any attempt at starting slow. It was rough, and it was messy, and it was desperate, and you loved it. His fangs scraped at your bottom lip and you gasped, fisting your hands into his hair as your body remembered how it felt the last time those fangs breached your skin. But as you ground your clit into the sizeable bulge in his pants again, he froze.

Just as you were about to pull away to see what caught his attention, he pushed you away first, hands firmly on your shoulders.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he gasped, and it very much looked like it took all of his willpower to break away.

“What’s wrong?” you asked weakly, your head still spinning, body absolutely overcome by lust. In fact, he was looking a bit blurry again with how fast he moved you, and it took several moments of rapid blinking before you met his very concerned gaze. Nothing ever escaped him, and you were sure that your semi-weak state was very obvious to him right now.

Not that it affected how much you wanted his touch, his cock.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Your brow furrowed. “I do know what I’m doing,” you said firmly – or at least, you tried, but it took far too much effort to wrap your tongue around the syllables, almost as if you were drunk.

“Y/N-”

“Why don’t you believe me?” you whined, this time sounding a bit more coherent. You tried to push toward him, but his hold was too strong. “You want it too, look at your face.”

He sighed, looking to the ceiling as though it held some answer on how to make this easier. “It’s not about whether I want it or not. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Jinnie,” you whimpered needily, reaching your hands toward the waistband of his pants. If he didn’t touch you soon, you swore that you would scream. “Please. I want it. I want you. I promise-”

He moved to snatch your hands before you could touch him, and your mouth clamped shut at the grip. His expression was almost pained for a moment before his eyes glazed over with a look that would have had you on your knees immediately.

His hand shot up to grip your chin firmly, ensuring that you couldn’t look away. Though, you didn’t think you could look away if you tried, drawn to the unspeakable darkness you found there, crimson still invading the rich brown.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and sleep for me?”

“Wh-what?” you choked out, but it was as though you’d lost control of your body, feeling as though you’d been awake for days without sleep. Your eyelids fluttered shut, but you forced them back open, groaning weakly when your vision fell upon Seokjin, his expression still dark and hungry.

You were about to open your mouth again, but something about his eyes was so captivating. Something about the red pulled you in, left you unable to think. Were his eyes always this beautiful? You wracked your brain, but came up blank. You wanted to open your mouth and ask him, but you couldn’t move a muscle. Even still, your face drew closer to his as though pulled in by a magnet.

His eyes roved over your face before meeting your gaze once more, and you missed the flash of sympathy that was present for only a moment. You were relieved when he looked at you again, fingers twitching with the urge to cup his face. You were content to look at him for the rest of time – if there was anything Seokjin had, it was time, right?

Attention focused on each other, he parted his lips, and you could have sworn your ears buzzed, desperate to hold on to every word.

“Sleep.”

Your vision went black.

--

You awoke to a hand scratching gently at your scalp, a great contrast to the relentless hammering of your head. You groaned, shoving your face further into your pillow, blocking out the light that was already worsening the ache of your skull, even with your eyes closed.

You were so comfy, so relaxed at the touch that you almost drifted right back to sleep.

Wait.

You lived alone.

Sitting up all in a rush, you gasped as the world spun. It only got worse when you forced your eyes open, a pained whine leaving your lips as even the limited light in the room only introduced more pain behind your eyes.

“Woah! It’s just me, it’s just me.” Seokjin’s voice came out in a rush, sturdy arms lowering you back to your pillow as he pulled the sheets up to shadow your face.

Right. Seokjin.

Your heartbeat calmed, recalling his arrival late last night. Though, what came next was all a blur you couldn’t bother trying to remember right now.

You heard him step away quickly, the sound of your curtains drawing completely closed having you let out a sigh of relief. His footsteps neared you again, his cool touch returning to stroke gently at your face, before moving to massage at the base of your skull.

His touch was so delicate it almost baffled you. You didn’t think he’d touch anyone like this, his displays of affection more inclined to loud compliments and playful roughhousing.

But you couldn’t deny that it felt incredible, your neck arching almost imperceptively as you leaned into his touch. The chill of his skin against yours sent a shiver through you, and you tried to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

“Are you cold?”

Blood rushed to your face at the observation, though you only gave a noncommittal noise in return. He didn’t need to know what was going on in your mind.

“My head hurts,” you mumbled quietly, a pout overtaking your lips. Seokjin had to force himself not to laugh at how cute you looked then.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he replied softly, lulling you back into a half-asleep state with the gentle motions of his hand on you.

You couldn’t tell how long it was before you opened your eyes again – it could have been 2 minutes or it could have been two hours. You couldn’t even tell whether you’d drifted off or not.

It was fortunately much darker than the first time you opened your eyes, much to the relief of your headache that had faded some, but was still thudding away.

What you didn’t expect, however, was to be greeted by the golden skin of Seokjin’s chest, the shadows of the room only making it look more unreal.

You blearily blinked several times before determining that yes, that was Seokjin half-naked and perched on a kitchen chair. You tried to get words out and failed, clearing your throat before trying again.

“Where are your clothes?”

He grinned. “A bit ruined, if you recall.”

Right.

At least his pants were still on. That was best for your sanity.

“Why does my head hurt so much?” you asked, luckily able to keep your eyes open now to look at him without the pain multiplying tenfold.

He winced, his chest aching at the pained expression on your face. “I’m sorry. That’s my fault.”

“What do you mean? Because you bit me?”

“No, not that.” He raised his free hand to scratch awkwardly at his ear.

“Huh? Why then?” All of this was so confusing. Maybe you should have done more research on vampires in your life, though you never expected to be in this sort of situation.

“I, uhh... compelled you.” He gnawed nervously at his lip, but rather than the lashing out he might have expected, you only looked at him in confusion.

“You what? Why?”

“What do you remember from last night?” he posed to you instead.

As much as you tried to recall, you couldn’t focus on anything with the state your head was in. You remembered him arriving at your house, a bit of stupid banter, getting on the couch, sitting in his lap. Then, he bit you.

Then what?

You honestly didn’t know, and you couldn’t help the fear that crept its way through you at that realization.

“You bit me...” you trailed off, looking away from his face and instead staring into the sheets near where your hands laid.

He hummed in affirmation, clearly urging you to continue.

“And then, I don’t really know,” you whispered, an edge of panic in your voice.

He sighed. “That’s what I thought. Don’t worry, it’ll come back.”

“Did something bad happen?” You tried to wrack your brain for possible scenarios where he would have had to compel you to do something, and you came up blank every time. What could you have done? Attacked him? Or did he go crazy at the taste of your blood and attack you? No, that didn’t make any sense – you were lying in bed feeling perfectly normal besides the headache.

What the hell happened?

“Nothing bad happened. I just... made you sleep before we did something stupid.”

It felt like the more he told you, the less you knew. Before you did something stupid? As in, did something stupid together?

There was something about the way he was choosing his words that led you to only one conclusion – in fact, he sounded an awful lot like Taehyung bemoaning his drunken hookups.

There was no way you almost fucked... right?

You’d have to know, right? There was no way you would have gone along with that... right?

It wasn’t as though you’d never had a spur of the moment one-night stand, but with Seokjin? There was absolutely no way you would’ve let that happen. A person had to protect their heart, after all.

“Stop overthinking right now, you’ll just make the pain worse.”

“I’m not,” you protested, though you didn’t know why you even tried lying. It was a bit hard to trick someone who was both a vampire and your friend.

“I can literally hear you freaking out. Please just try to rest, you’ll remember when the headache goes away.”

You sighed, trying to ease the tension in your body you didn’t even realize you had. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he said confidently, his hand trailing away to rub firm circles into your shoulder instead.

“Mm.” You might have said something, but proper words evaded you at his touch. You tried focusing on him rather than the thrum of your skull, and you had to force yourself to keep your eyes open.

The expression on Seokjin’s face was one you hadn’t seen before. His eyes looked into yours with a softness that felt unfamiliar, a soft smile overtaking his lips when he saw how exhausted you looked.

“Sleep if you’re tired, princess,” he murmured, pulling the sheets up higher to cover you more. “Do you want another blanket?”

You could feel your heart speed up in your chest at the pet name and his tenderness, and you cursed the fact that there was no way to hide anything from him. At least he was polite enough not to tease you like he did your other friends.

You were so momentarily flustered that you almost forgot to respond, only nodding in response as you curled further into yourself. If you were any braver, maybe you would have asked him to join you instead.

It was only moments before he was tossing the throw from your living room over you, and it almost startled you. Sometimes you forgot how eerily fast he could move, considering he usually slowed himself to your pace whenever you were together.

You let out a contented sigh as you snuggled into the additional warmth, already feeling only half-conscious. You had just enough energy to let out a mumbled ‘thanks’ before you were drifting off again.

--

When you awoke this time, it felt as though you were an entirely new person. For starters, your head felt blissfully quiet. You were sure you would have cried if you woke up to just as much pain. There was only so much you could take in one 24-hour period. Seokjin had really done a number on your weekend, hadn’t he?

Speaking of Seokjin, he was nowhere to be seen in your bedroom. Though you were sure he was still somewhere. It wasn’t quite his style to disappear without saying goodbye, and you were even more doubtful that he would just leave after biting you.

Biting you.

At the thought, images flooded your mind faster than you could process them.

His fangs at your neck.

The relentless pleasure that invaded every fibre of your being.

Your lips on his.

Your brazen grinding against him.

And, your refusal to stop despite his words.

Holy fuck.

Was it possible to go back to when you didn’t remember and you could ignorantly lay in bed with Seokjin stroking your head?

You sat up only to bury your head in your hands, letting out a loud, embarrassed, frustrated groan while you were at it. If Seokjin didn’t know you were awake before, he surely did now. But merciful as ever, he allowed you to wallow in your mortification alone.

Was there anything worse than trying to mindlessly and basically drunkenly make your way into your friend’s pants and get denied? Your friend who you maybe found a little bit (extremely) attractive in every way, shape, and form?

Well, of course there were worse things, but to you in this moment, it certainly felt like a new low.

It took you a moment to find your footing once you’d hopped out of bed, but luckily you felt good as new otherwise. If you stayed in here alone too much longer you would certainly lose the minimal nerve you had and never leave.

In your rush to make use of your bravery, you remembered at the last moment that you were still in just your panties and shirt with no bra.

When you made it to your dresser, you paused at your reflection.

It was almost... startling how normal you looked. Though, what should you have looked like?

Baring your neck and squinting at the image in front of you, you had to scratch at your neck yourself to verify whether you were imagining it.

Aside from bruises that already seemed to be fading, there were no marks on your neck. Did it really heal that fast?

Maybe you should have been a bit embarrassed that you were so clueless on the whole subject. But in your defense, information on the internet didn’t seem to be very reliable, and vampires, for some reason, seemed to love their air of mystery. Based on the few you knew well, you were pretty sure they got a fair amount of amusement out of the misconceptions flying around.

Finally fully dressed for the first time since Seokjin showed up unannounced, you flung your door open with all the confidence you could muster.

Which is to say, you cracked your door open just enough for you to stick your head out. Much to your dismay, your eyes met Seokjin’s on the couch almost immediately, your face ducked toward the floor as you slinked your way over to the living room.

You stopped on the opposite side of the table, the sight of the stained knife there definitely not helping in your hope to distract yourself from what a fool you’d made of yourself the night before.

Out of curiosity, your gaze shot up to examine his abdomen.

You didn’t know why the perfectly smooth and unblemished muscle you found there was of any surprise to you after the night you’ve had, but it was. There wasn’t a single trace of any injury or blood on him – in fact, he looked much cleaner than when he got here. Did he use your shower?

A throat clearing had your eyes instinctively locking with his, an amused smile playing over his features that shot embarrassment through your veins. Of course the one time your ogling was purely scientific, he had to catch you and make fun of you.

You couldn’t stop your sight from drifting back down, the concept of there being absolutely no trace of anything happening to him boggling your mind.

“You really...” you trailed off, eyes darting back and forth across his bare skin one last time just to be sure. “You really healed, just like that?”

He only nodded, tapping the unbroken skin for emphasis. “You can heal me, I can heal you. Convenient, isn’t it?”

You nodded back in response, silence taking over the room quickly. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do to fill it. You’ve never experienced an awkward silence with Seokjin before, his charming nature always keeping everyone around him comfortable. This sort of energy in the room with him... it was unsettling.

“Y/N,” Seokjin called out once the silence went on a moment too long for his liking. “Can you come sit with me?”

He scooted over to make plenty of room for you, but you felt almost frozen in place. Did he really want your company after you’d pretty much jumped him? Was he sitting you down so he could let you down easy, tell you that this has been real, but he refused to associate with someone with so little self-control?

You must have stood there staring for longer than you thought, because an unreadable expression crossed his face before he spoke up again.

“Are you scared of me?”

Huh?

“No!” you blurted out, your volume clearly surprising him. “Well, a little?”

“Oh.” If you weren’t paying such close attention to him, you would have missed the hurt that flashed in his eyes. But you didn’t.

“Wait, that’s not what I meant,” you said hurriedly. You wanted to smack yourself for being such a blatant mess. “I’m just... scared,” you finished weakly.

His gaze softened immediately, and he had to restrain himself from hopping over the table between you to pull you into his arms. You looked like you were trying to shrink into yourself, your shoulders pulled towards your chest, hands wringing nervously in front of you.

“Did you think I would be upset?” he asked softly. He leaned forward, earnest expression on his face.

That was an understatement. You could live with “drunkenly” coming onto someone, but you didn’t know what you would do if it ended up costing you your friendship. Maybe you were being overly dramatic, but you never claimed to be the most rational person.

You nodded slowly, your vision dropping to stare at the floor, hands wrapped around your middle, squeezing as you struggled to maintain composure. You didn’t know why your heart was beating a mile a minute, your palms uncomfortably sweaty. You usually didn’t feel this level of fear when confronting a mistake that, to a normal person, shouldn’t be such an obscenely big deal as you were making it. But Seokjin was certainly not a normal person to you, and any situation that lowered his opinion of you was one you would do anything to avoid.

“Hey.” The sudden gentle hand on your chin made you squeak, and you would have stumbled in your rush to step backward if not for the steadying hand on your shoulder.

You always seemed to forget that he could move so quickly and silently. Your heart might stop at this rate if he wasn’t careful.

His thumb stroked at your jaw as if he hadn’t just seen you nearly fall flat on your ass, softly tapping under your chin until you met his gaze.

“I promise I’m the furthest thing from mad right now. Nothing is even your fault, okay?”

“But-”

“No buts. Let’s talk, but I’m not upset. Okay?” he urged, eyes not leaving yours until you nodded. The smile he gave in return made you feel warm, the tenderness in his gaze doing things to your heart, the hint of a smile ghosting your lips.

The hand on your shoulder nudged you toward him, the other opening wide to welcome you into a hug.

You went easily, your arms wrapping around his bare waist as you tucked your face into his chest. The relief you felt at his reassurance was immense, and you melted into his touch. It was almost strange how well you fit together.

“Let’s sit,” he said, kind yet firm. He led you over to the couch, settling himself down into the spot where he seemed to have spent much of the past day in.

You didn’t know what possessed you to straddle his lap in the way you did last night. Maybe it was the way he looked at you warmly without judgment, or the way your body craved his nearness after getting a taste of his touch. But whatever it was, he didn’t push you away – rather, he reached for your hands, interlacing his fingers with your own.

This position wasn’t the most “innocent” to begin with, but with the memories of last night rushing through your head, of his teeth at your neck and the pleasure you felt, your breath sped up.

With the expression on Seokjin’s face, you were sure he must have been thinking the same thing, hungry eyes flickering from your lips back up to your waiting gaze. Unlike you, however, he didn’t seem at all embarrassed.

“Are you confused?” he asked suddenly.

Caught off guard by the sudden question, your brows furrowed. Though you didn’t know just exactly what he was referring to, what will all that happened, but your answer was still the same regardless.

You nodded hesitantly, but he didn’t speak, your puzzled expression telling him that you were still working things out in your head. The silence stretched on until you finally spoke up again.

“You didn’t tell me it would be like... that.” Euphoric. Dreamlike. Intense. No matter what word you used, it still didn’t feel enough to encompass what you experienced the night before. You’d never experienced white-hot physical and even emotional pleasure like that, not in all your years of life.

You dropped your gaze down to your joined hands, watching the way he fiddled with your fingers as he pondered his next words. It felt unusual to have a conversation with him in this way – you both tended to be people who said what they thought without thinking on it too much, with friends at least. But it was reassuring to see him so serious, to see that he really did care.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it was a possibility,” he finally said. He sounded confident in his words, but you found it odd that he was fidgeting so much. He hadn’t stopped moving his hands since taking hold of yours, and even his legs were starting to shift beneath yours. Why did he seem so nervous?

“What does that mean?”

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” he responded instead, leaving you staring at him, baffled.

“Huh?” you replied, immediately defensive.

You didn’t have the smallest idea of what that question meant, but he fixed his gaze on you inquisitively. Did he think you had some big secret or something? Sure, he didn’t know everything about your life, but there was nothing so exceptional about you that not mentioning it would be some sort of betrayal.

“Uhh, never mind.”

“What do you mean, never mind? You can’t just ask me something like then and then say that,” you huffed, lips forming a thin line.

“Sorry I just thought – do you remember what I told you when you asked if it would hurt?”

You swore he was going to give you whiplash with his questions, but at least this one was easy to answer.

“Sure, you said the closer two people are the better it feels. Something like that, right?”

“Right, so, uhh, it wouldn’t normally feel that intense, you know?”

The fact that he definitely seemed to know exactly what was going on and kept beating around the bush was more than a little bit frustrating. Considering he was normally as straightforward as a person could get, though, you opted to simple stare expectantly at him. But if he didn’t cut to the point in approximately 20 seconds, your annoyance would just about outweigh your concern.

“It shouldn’t feel that way unless you liked me back,” he finally said, all in one breath.

You could only blink blankly as you processed his words, but when it clicked, you went from mildly annoyed to incredibly flustered all in the same second.

“HUH?! Wait, back?” You could almost feel your headache coming back with how many directions this conversation has taken in less than 15 minutes. Your hands were starting to feel disgustingly clammy in his, but neither of you moved to separate them.

“I know this is so sudden, and I didn’t expect to be outed like this either and it doesn’t have to mean anything, like I know I like you a lot, like a lot a lot, but I don’t really know how much you feel about me or if it’s even that significant or just a passing attraction because either is possible and I’m really sorry if this made everything awkward-”

His ridiculously fast words were cut off by your newly-free hand clamping down over his mouth, plump lips tickling your skin as he stared at you, wide-eyed. You were sure if you tried this any other time he would (playfully) smack you, but he only stared.

“Really?” you whispered. To be completely honest, you never realistically considered a relationship, or even just a hook-up with Seokjin. You found him wholly and insanely attractive, but didn’t everyone? And it wasn’t that he was a vampire and you were a human – it was laughable to believe that you’d think that long-term anyway.

No, you just never saw him being that into you. He was almost ethereally beautiful, got along well with everyone, and had one of the most charming personalities you’d ever seen. His physique wasn’t even something that needed to be mentioned. With all that considered, all you ever cared to do was admire him from afar, content to have him as a close friend. It wasn’t as though he’d ever sent you hints that he wanted otherwise, either.

So to hear that your stupid little harmless crush could actually amount to anything?

You thought things couldn’t get any more unexpected.

When he nodded his confirmation, you couldn’t keep the grin from overtaking your face.

The giddiness clear on your face and the adorable sparkle in your eye sent unquantifiable relief through him, and the second you removed your hand, he opened his mouth to speak.

But somehow you were quicker than him, your lips meeting his before a single syllable could be uttered.

Unlike last night, you didn’t kiss him like you wanted to devour him, or like your body would light on fire if you couldn’t get as close as possible. This was calmer, slower, but it didn’t take long for that to change.

His fangs weren’t out this time, but that didn’t change the fact that you gasped as soon as his teeth dug into your bottom lip. Sparks shot up your spine at the sensation, your mind unable to stop thinking about what you felt the last time you were in this same position. How good it felt to be helpless to the pleasure battering down on you, held in place by strong hands and strong arms.

He’d probably ruined teeth for you for the rest of your life.

You let him do whatever he wanted, and he groaned into your mouth when you tangled your hands in his hair. Hands gripped your ass tightly and squeezed, pulling you in closer to him.

His hands didn’t even wander much further than that, but heat flared in your core regardless. When he raised his hips to brush the bulge in his pants against your aching centre, you could only moan and grind down onto him.

The pressure against your clit through the thin material of your shorts cut off every possible train of thought, and you were pretty sure that after all this, these panties would never recover.

You felt goosebumps raise on your flesh when a hand rose, nails scraping against your scalp. You arched your neck back ever-so-slightly, and Seokjin didn’t miss a beat in detaching from your lips to mouth at the skin above your collarbone instead.

He wasn’t gentle in the way he sucked bruises into your skin, a firm hand holding your head in place while the other held your thigh, his confined length rubbing languidly into your core. You whined and tightened your grip in his hair at the brush of teeth against skin, but much to your displeasure, he pulled away from you before clothes even started coming off.

“Wait.”

“Whyyyy?” you whined petulantly. Was he really going to do this to you again? You knew he was definitely in the right to stop things last night, but there was only so much you could take.

He bit back a smirk at your neediness, thumbing gently at your protruding bottom lip as he resisted the urge to tease you for your cuteness. This soft and pouty side of you was new to him, and he swore something fluttered in his chest.

“You should eat something, princess.”

“Huh?” you blinked, confused. You were about to protest when he spoke up again.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhh... dinner last night? Maybe 7? 8?”

He leaned in toward you, but rather than kiss you again, he reached for the table behind you. You craned your neck to see what he was doing, and frowned when he grabbed for his phone. Your bewilderment at what he was doing didn’t last long, however, his phone screen displaying the time for you in large, white font.

5:32 pm.

“Holy shit, I slept for that long?” You stared at him wide-eyed. No wonder he took a shower and everything. You were surprised he was sat there waiting for you for all those hours without complaint.

He looked a bit sheepish, tossing his phone to the side and leaning back into the couch, tugging you with him comfortably. At this point the fire you felt had been dimmed, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still a bit irritated at being denied twice in a row.

“Ah, that would be my fault... the compulsion really gave you hell,” he winced, stroking gently at your cheek with the back of his fingers.

“It’s fine, I feel okay. Wasn’t that my fault anyway?” Your face felt hot thinking back to your behaviour and the lack of restraint you showed, hand rubbing nervously at the back of your neck.

“Of course not,” he assured quickly. “It’s not exactly something easy to resist. But if you regret it, I’m really sor-”

“I don’t regret it!” you cut him off, immediately wanting to pinch yourself for being so loud. And hasty. And embarrassing. And horny. “I’m... I’m happy right now.” Your volume seemed to die as confidence left you, but Seokjin only beamed.

“I’m happy too,” he said simply, tone laced with sincerity. “But you need to eat, I can practically hear your intestines screaming from here.”

“What?!” Strange tension successfully killed, your hands covered your abdomen instinctively as though you could shield yourself from his vampire ears. “Can you actually?”

He let you stare at him in alarm for only a few seconds before he couldn’t hold his giggles back anymore.

“Not really, but you should have seen your face. Why are you so worried about it?”

You huffed, shoulders deflating at his teasing. “I don’t know! That has to be a breach of privacy or something. Who gave you the right to listen to my intestines?”

“I can already hear your heart just fine, would it really matter so much?”

The smile dropped from his lips within a second, and the sudden intensity in his gaze had you frozen. The energy in the room shifted in an instant, and you were at a complete loss for words.

You thought he was going in for a kiss when he leaned closer, but instead his nose went to nuzzle at your neck, trailing up into your hairline. The warm air he exhaled into your ear made you shiver, pressing yourself ever so closer to his bare chest. You didn’t know how he managed to work you up within seconds, but you felt so hot despite his cool touch, baring your neck for him.

“I can hear the way your heart speeds up when I get close...” he whispered, mouthing lazily at your soft skin before sucking harshly. Unsure of what to do with yourself, your nails dug into his biceps, breath unsteady.

“I can hear the way the blood rushes through your veins, the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” A hand rose to palm at your breast, bare beneath the worn cotton of your shirt. You arched your back as he harshly rolled a hard nipple between his fingers.

“I can hear the way you lose your breath, your tiny little gasps...” You couldn’t hide the way you twitched when sharp fangs scraped against your skin, a whimper nearly making its way from your throat. “Just like that.”

“And just so you know...” His voice was like honey, warm and smooth and sweet, and you hung onto his every word. “I can hear the way your stomach is growling right now too.”

The noise you let out that moment was inhumane, somewhere between a squeak and a scream of disbelief.

He broke away from you with a blaring laugh, shoulders bouncing beneath your grip.

You moved to slap at his chest, but your hand was caught easily, and his laughter only continued. God, you were going to kill this man. Again.

Your face felt obscenely hot, and you could feel a pout overtaking your lips at the sight of him still giggling away in front of you.

“Jinnie,” you whined, choosing to display your discontent by breaking free of his grip and hopping up out of his lap.

Which was definitely not the correct choice, because you swore you could feel the rush of blood through your ears before a strong sense of vertigo washed over you, groan escaping your lips. You were sure you would have fallen face first into the floor if not for Seokjin’s steadying.

“Woah, do you feel okay? This is why I told you to eat,” he sighed, maneuvering you to lay down comfortably on the couch, sticking pillows under your head. “Just stay here and I’ll make food, okay?”

“No, wait, I can make it-”

As you attempted to push back up off the couch, he only gently pushed down with a quiet ‘tsk’ and shake of his head. As you opened your mouth to further protest, he leaned in close, the softness of his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Be a good girl and let me take care of you, hm?”

Your breath hitched at his sudden words, only able to stare wide-eyed when he pulled away from you enough to take in your face. The look in his eyes could only be described as devious – amused yet hardened, and you didn’t know if you were imagining the crimson bleeding into the brown of his irises.

“There goes that heartbeat again,” he murmured as though sharing a secret, the tender motion of his hand on your cheek in stark contrast to the want etched into his expression. “You’re going to be so much fun to ruin.”

--

For someone who didn’t really need to eat food to survive (though you’d been told time and time again that eating was fun), Seokjin made one hell of a good cook. Granted, egg fried rice wasn’t the most difficult nor time-consuming dish to make, but that didn’t make it any less tasty. In fact, you were grateful for such a simple and light dish, because you learned quite quickly that after an entire day without food, rushing to eat only brought nausea and discomfort.

Leaning against the armrest of the couch, the inside of your bowl was all you could see with how close you were holding it to your face. In your defence, though, you were greatly disinterested in the possibility of needing to clean a stain from your cushions.

As you took your time eating, Seokjin opted to tidy up a bit, dishes clanging in the kitchen before you heard him rearranging his shoes at the front door.

Thankfully, his efforts included removing the knife from your table and putting it god-knows-where, but you were just glad it was out of your line of sight. Maybe he thought that it was better for your appetite to remove the thing you’d literally pulled out of him.

You tried not to let your mind linger on just how... strange that felt.

He somehow managed to clean up before you’d even finished eating, the couch dipping beside you as he settled into his spot. Vampire speed truly was startling.

If you didn’t have your entire field of vision blocked, you might have noticed Seokjin’s fond look as you ate your meal at what could only be described as a forced snail’s pace. He had to suppress a chuckle at how antsy you seemed to be, clearly wanting to just shovel food into your mouth, but knowing you would only suffer for it. How did one person manage to be so cute and yet so seductive?

When you were done, you set the bowl down on the table with a satisfied sigh, jumping in surprise when a glass of water was placed into your newly-emptied hands almost immediately.

“Thanks,” you smiled shyly, face feeling hot at his attentiveness. You didn’t know how to react at having a man like Kim Seokjin doting on you. It was almost – no, it was – unbelievable, and your poor heart didn’t know how to act. It was one thing to have him kiss you like he was going to devour you, and another to be this sweet and this caring and this soft.

Setting the empty glass next to your empty bowl, you leaned back, unsure of what to do with yourself now that you were entirely unoccupied. Seokjin’s presence beside you made you increasingly aware of the awkward shifting of your hands and your uneasy breathing. He wasn’t that close to you and yet you could smell him – you didn’t know how he managed to make your floral scented shampoo smell sexy.

“Why are you so nervous?” he said lowly, nudging you into his side and tossing an arm around your shoulders. It was a simple move, and yet all you could think was how big he was, how easily he completely enveloped you in his hold.

“I-I’m not nervous,” you stuttered, and you could feel the blood rush to your face. You wondered if he could hear that, too.

A hand lifted your face in his direction, and you were met with an expression that very clearly read ‘are you really going to try lying to a vampire?’

“I don’t know why I’m nervous,” you amended, biting into your lower lip. His gaze followed the motion, eyes clouding over.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, his thumb raising to release your lip from your teeth, the movement intimate enough to set your stomach aflutter.

“Are we asking that now?” you responded smartly, grinning when Seokjin only huffed a laugh.

“Let me be clearer then,” he said lowly, the abrupt commanding tone having you sit up straighter. “Can I kiss you, strip you, take you to bed, taste that sweet pussy on my tongue, and then fuck you?”

Heat flared in you at the words, your fingernails scratching against his chest before remembering he wasn’t wearing a shirt for you to yank him closer. You settled for making a beeline for his mouth, but a quick movement to grip your hair at the scalp kept you from getting close enough.

“Ah, ah,” he tutted, holding you still as he nuzzled his nose against your neck, humming in content when he brushed right against the spot he bit you yesterday. “Tell me yes or no, princess.”

You nodded with what freedom you had left – not much, with how tight his hold on you was, tiny pricks of pain sending sparks up and down your spine. His other hand pulled you closer to him, your hips halfway straddling him as he mouthed at your neck, acting as though he hadn’t noticed your response. It was clear that he was waiting for you to say something.

“Yes,” you said quietly, nearly forgetting what the question was from the way he was sucking softly at your neck. At the scrape of fangs against your skin, you only pushed back against the hand in your hair, exposing more of your neck with a soft sigh.

“You can’t stop thinking about it, can you?” he taunted, pulling you fully on top of him, his hard cock right against your core, and you wished that clothing wasn’t separating you.

He pressed those fangs against the soft skin below your ear, hard enough that the pain had you wincing, but not enough to break skin.

He was teasing you, and you were putty in his hands.

“I can’t stop thinking about it either,” he breathed, tonguing lazily over the stinging marks he left behind. You could only whimper and squirm in his hold, hands tangling in his silken hair. You didn’t know whether you wanted to pull him away or push him closer.

“To have you moaning in rapture right in my lap, so desperate for my cock, the taste of you on my lips...” His voice was so low you could barely hear it, barely process it, but the absolutely lust in his voice only spurred new waves of arousal in you. “Hearing you beg like that, fuck-”

He cut himself off with a sinful moan as he shifted his hips to rub himself right against your cunt, and you shuddered in response.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone so bad,” he sighed, breathing unsteady as he used his grip on you to rock you in time to his movements. “I’ve never had such a test of self-control. Maybe I should punish you.”

This voice was teasing, but your reaction was real, and there was no way to hide the way a moan escaped or the way your nails dug crescents into Seokjin’s smooth skin.

“Oh, you like that, do you?” he chuckled darkly as he leaned his head back into the couch, the grip in your hair tightening even more. A helpless whine left your lips, and you became uncomfortably aware of the way your panties were sticking to your folds.

“Tell me, do you think I should punish you?” he asked, his honeyed voice lulling you into a state you couldn’t even begin to explain with words.

You tried nodding again, hissing at the flash of pain when you tried move your head from his grip.

“Princess, haven’t you learned to use your words? I think I’ll bend you over my knee right here. What do you think about that?”

“Please,” you gasped without hesitation, freezing when you fluttered your eyelids open to meet his gaze.

If you weren’t sure whether his eyes were laced with red before, it was evident now. It only made him all the more enticing, and your vision fell down to his mouth instinctively when he ran his tongue over his teeth. A pang of heat went through you when his fangs bit into his lip, and before you were thinking about it, a hand rose to brush against his mouth.

Your thumb grazed a fang almost reverently, and Seokjin only watched on fondly at the wonderment on your face. You supposed it might have been strange to touch your friend’s – boyfriend’s? – teeth like this, but you had always been curious. Hell, you hadn’t even seen fangs in person before last night. As far as you knew, they only extended when feeding or when feeling strong emotions, and neither tended to be something you could casually see on the street.

You bit at your lip when sharpness pushed into the pad of your finger, but his next words broke you free of your reverie.

“Bend over then.”

He released you from his grip dizzyingly fast, leaning back to watch you.

You were surprised at yourself with how quickly you situated your ass over his lap, the self-consciousness you would’ve expected to be feeling wholly absent. Seokjin was just that captivating.

You wiggled your way into a comfortable position, sticking a cushion under your head. Now that your ass was sticking out right into his view, you felt more vulnerable than ever, knowing that his eyes and ears were trained on your every movement and reaction.

Hands pushed your long shirt up over your hips, fingers trailing lightly over the globes of your ass, separated only by the thin fabric of your shorts. But not for long.

Fingers reached under your waistband and tugged down before you could react, yanking your shorts and panties down in one go.

With air suddenly hitting your sodden pussy, you could feel heat rise to your face at how exposed you found yourself. But any thought of shifting and hiding was erased when you heard Seokjin’s loud groan.

“Shit, you’re soaked, smell so fucking good,” he hissed, fingers reaching to push messily through your folds.

You couldn’t see him putting his fingers in his mouth, but the depraved moan he let out afterward had you squirming in his lap.

After your shorts and panties were pushed onto the floor, a large hand ran tenderly over the skin of your ass, fingers digging in slightly.

“Is ten on each side too much for you?” he asked. There was no hint of teasing in his tone, his voice firm. He continued his soft stroking as he waiting for an answer.

“Uhh... I don’t really know?” you responded meekly. Sure, you had been spanked before, but it was never this... structured? To be honest, you didn’t really know what “a lot” would be in terms of numbers.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “We’ll work our way up and see how it feels. Is that okay?”

You nodded at first, but quickly let out an ‘okay’ when you remembered how firm he was on a proper response.

“This means I’m trusting you to be honest and tell me to stop if it’s too much. I want you to feel good.”

“Okay.”

You released tension you didn’t realize you’d had at his reassurances, allowing your limbs to loosen as you adjusted to lay more comfortably. The sensation of his hands on you made you feel safe and secure, and you knew for a fact that for all his hard words and cold stares, he was still always searching for your approval.

You twitched in surprise as a few light swats came down on each cheek, almost as though he was testing the motion. But after being briefly taken off guard, you relaxed under his hands, body already warming up at each light blow. You barely felt anything aside from a faint sting, but you could already feel your cunt throbbing, anticipation having you dig your nails into the cushion beneath you.

But even despite his preparation, the first real blow had you gasping. Not because it was overly painful – in fact, those pinpricks of pain were laced with pleasure, radiating outward from where his palm had firmly struck you. No, it was more that with the control and precision he showed, another realization struck you at that moment.

He really knew what he was doing.

This wasn’t just a college boyfriend who wanted to experiment with things he saw in porn, or a random bar hookup who thought he was more than he was.

No, Seokjin was the epitome of calculated control, had you eating out of the palm of his hand with one simple word. One look and you were his.

And fuck, if that didn’t make you melt.

You sighed happily as a hit came down on your other asscheek, another wave of arousal soaking your cunt.

“Do you want it harder?” he asked, voice low. The tone felt almost like a personal attack, honeyed words piercing your eardrums.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Yes or no. Don’t just agree to do things because I suggest it,” he scolded, punishing you with a swat to your upper thigh that stung sharper than his previous blows.

“Yes, I want it.”

“Hm,” he hummed, nails scratching over your skin, just barely missing the heat of your core. “I think I would be more convinced if you begged.”

As much as most of your embarrassment had already faded, what with being bent over Seokjin’s lap, it took so much more to put your desires verbally out into the world. But the throbbing in your cunt was fierce, and the warmth from his previous strikes was already fading. And you wanted more.

“Please,” you whined weakly before taking a deep breath to amp yourself up. “Please, Jinnie, I want it harder.”

You barely had time to process the tiny chuckle he let out before his palm came down on you again, the additional force behind it making you shiver despite the warmth that spread through you.

You didn’t know exactly how many more times his hand struck your ass, but your quiet moans were interrupted by his voice once again.

“Harder?”

As much as you felt good, it still wasn’t enough. The sting wasn’t enough, the heat wasn’t enough. You wanted more, needed more.

“Yes, please.”

“Mm, there you go. Maybe I should do this more often if you’re going to be such a good girl for me after.”

He punctuated his statement with a harsh blow to your ass, the strength of it forcing a moan from your lungs. A hand stroked tenderly over where it had struck, before doing the same to the other cheek. You whimpered as you felt another gush of wetness spill from your cunt, squirming as another strike rained down.

Yes, this is what you wanted.

The feeling was heady, your mouth open and allowing all the sounds to spill from your lips. Every cell in your body felt hot, from your fingertips down to your toes. You were certain you must have been making a mess of his lap with how wet you were.

You didn’t realize how heavily you were breathing until the smacks stopped, fingers gently kneading at the raw skin instead. Your skin felt almost burned, but more than anything, you needed those hands to slip between your legs. Now that there was nothing else to distract you, your neglected pussy was desperate for something, anything.

“How are you?” he asked several moments later.

His continued soothing touch dampened the fire of your skin before long, but that only furthered your arousal, shifting in his lap in search of some relief. You itched for some pressure on your clit, but it wasn’t possible in the position he had you in.

“Good,” you breathed, pressing back into his touch.

“Good.” He let his fingers creep ever-so-closer to where you needed him most, rubbing against where your wetness had spread, just beside your outer folds. “I think you deserve a reward. What do you think?”

“Please,” you whined immediately, but luckily, he didn’t seem interested in making you wait any longer. Maybe it was the fact that he had been waiting just as long, or that he was just tired of your constant fidgeting in his lap.

A finger slid in without resistant – unsurprisingly, what with the way you could feel the air hitting your slick skin. Your walls clamped down on the intrusion immediately, and another finger slid down to rub tiny circles onto your clit.

You whined in relief, but Seokjin unfortunately held you down to keep you from thrusting back onto his hand.

“So fucking wet,” he murmured, slipping another finger in when he felt how easily you took the first.

As much as one didn’t feel like enough, two of his fingers was so much bigger than your own. The stretch had you gasping, the friction against your walls and clit making you moan out.

As he scissored his fingers inside of you, the slight burn had you hissing, though the constant ministrations on your clit made sure the pain never became your focus.

“Mm, are you sure you can take my cock?” he mused, smirking at the way you were already whimpering, increasing the pace of his thrusts as your moans got more frequent.

“I can!” you blurted out, sounding almost offended. He had to stifle a laugh. You had always been fun to rile up, and sex was no exception.

“Hm, okay,” he hummed, amusement colouring his tone. You almost called him out on it before his fingers pulled out of you abruptly.

“Jin-”

Before you could question him, beg him to come back, hold him against you – three fingers started easing their way inside of you.

You tensed up almost immediately at the harsher burn at your entrance, the stiffness of your body not doing you much of a favour. He paused all movement at your struggle.

“Relax. I’ll take care of you, okay?”

His words had you feeling more at ease, a reminder that he was here, he wanted you to feel good, and he only kept on making that fact clear.

You made a noise of agreement, forcing your muscles to relax despite how much they wanted to clamp down. You wanted his cock, after all. You could take his fingers.

He took his time with you, slowly easing his fingers in and scissoring them apart, all the while his other hand resting beneath your abdomen, rubbing into your clit. You keened under his continuous murmured praise, moaning as he began to thrust his fingers.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his own breaths beginning to get heavy as he watched you twitch and whine at his hand.

Once the discomfort passed, your pleasure crested ridiculously fast with how long you’ve been waiting to be touched, filled. He stretched you open so wide, and you clenched around his digits at the thought of those fingers being his cock instead.

You were easily giving yourself away with how your walls were clamping down more and more, heavier gasps leaving you. The stroking at your clit wasn’t getting any slower, and soon enough you felt like you were going to snap.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, princess?” he asked roughly, his voice showing an uncharacteristic lack of control as he spread his fingers wide again.

“Please,” you said feebly, all other words having left your available vocabulary long ago. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll give it to you, baby.” The crook of his fingers took you by surprise, and with one, two, strokes against that spongy spot within you, you were gone.

Your orgasm stole the breath from your lungs, your legs going weak as waves of bliss hit you everywhere at once. His hands on you didn’t stop their motions, only sending new waves up your spine, shivers wracking your body as you grasped the closest object tightly – your nails digging into the cushion beneath you.

He only stopped when you started to squirm away as pain took over the pleasure, a whimper escaping as his fingers were removed.

If you thought you were getting a moment to breathe, you were wrong.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,” he growled.

Before you could blink, you were on your back, his lips attacking yours in a frenzy.

The grip he had on your thigh was sure to bruise, his still-clothed cock rocking into your sensitive pussy as he consumed your every thought, every desire.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, the realization only building the fire that had already been relit within you.

You allowed him to pull the shirt from your body, your skin left completely bare beneath his.

His gaze was somewhere between reverent and demonic, and he looked almost ready to pounce back on you before he paused.

“Bed?” His voice sounded strained, and you thought briefly back to what he said about how much self-control the past day has required from him. You glanced down at the bulge in his pants, and you had to keep yourself from grabbing at it, eager to give him his pleasure the same way he’d done for you.

“Okay.”

You didn’t think your lips formed the second syllable before you were being scooped up, your arms looping around his neck to steady yourself from the abrupt movement.

The walk to the bedroom was somewhat of a blur, your stomach lurching at the speed with which he moved. You’d known the man was quick, but experiencing it firsthand was partly unsettling, and partly... strangely sexy.

Your back hit the sheets with unexpected force, your body bouncing back up from the impact. You’d never considered strength to be such a significant turn-on, but combined with everything else about him, it seemed to make Seokjin the most dangerously attractive man you’ve ever encountered.

You thought you were about to get fucked into the mattress – the hunger in Seokjin’s stare only cementing the thought – but it seemed that he had other ideas.

“Jin-”

You were about to beg him to touch you, fuck you, do literally anything – when his hands wrapped around your ankles, spreading your legs apart enough that you could begin to feel the strain in your thighs.

The way he was gazing at your fully exposed core almost made you self-conscious before you took in the way his breathing was heavier than you’d ever seen it, the crimson completely having taken over the brown of his irises.

“I have – I have to taste you,” he groaned.

He sprung on you in an instant, plush lips wrapping around your clit and sucking before his tongue moved down to lap at your arousal.

While you were still a bit sensitive from your last orgasm, the discomfort was nothing in comparison to the bliss lighting up your nerves. You were a slave to pleasure under his tongue, hands holding you down as you attempted to buck up into him instinctively.

His tongue attacked you like a man starved, his unabashed moans into your heat leaving you gasping.

But as much as he was successfully making you lose your mind, you didn’t want to cum like this.

“Jin, fuck-” you whimpered, body aching to grind up into his face despite your next words.

He only hummed into your pussy at your noises, motions not pausing whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please,” you begged, a hand winding into his hair in an attempt to pull him off you.

You almost thought he was pretending not to hear you when he didn’t react straightaway, but not long after, he pulled off of you.

He didn’t even say a word in response, only shucking off his pants and boxers with a heaving chest.

You swore your pussy throbbed when you saw his cock, only moreso when he fisted it with a hiss, lips that were glistening with your arousal widening to reveal sharp white fangs.

“I have to be inside you right fucking now,” he snarled, dragging your body down by the thighs to meet him where he knelt.

You felt almost feverish, your hands reaching to yank Seokjin by the shoulders, the need to be closer taking over your every thought.

He kissed you frantically as the head of his cock rubbed against your clit, your back arching up into him, his closeness still not close enough for you.

You were so close to pleading with him not to draw this out, but he settled himself against your entrance, his other arm supporting himself by your head. When he started to push in, you could only whimper.

You knew he was big when he grasped himself in his hand only moments before, but for all his preparation, it felt like you were being split open.

You clung onto his biceps as he rocked himself forward at a snail’s pace, nails digging into his skin as you clamped down on him reflexively. It burned, but you wanted it so bad. As much as the discomfort was intense, you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, unable to stop panting into Seokjin’s mouth.

You whined as he nibbled at your bottom lip, one of his hands rubbing soothing circles into your thigh, the other in your hair. But when you felt fangs puncture your lip ever-so-slightly before he sucked it into his mouth, all breath was stolen from you.

It was only the smallest fraction of the pleasure you felt the night before, but that was enough to have your head thrown back, hips raising to meet Seokjin’s.

It almost seemed that he wasn’t expecting you to thrust upward onto him, a strangled groan leaving his throat as you shoved more of him inside you.

The stretch remained overwhelming, but the pain felt like a distant memory, new arousal making the glide smoother.

“Good?” he gasped against your collarbone, hot breaths hitting your skin as his hair brushed against your face. The arm holding him up was trembling at your side, the fingers on your thigh tightening their hold as if to physically hold himself together.

Part of you just wanted him to lose control.

“So good,” you moaned, shoving your hips up again, volume increasing exponentially when he allowed you to push him in to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he growled, arm moving to form a bruising grip on your other thigh, his chest moving away from yours. “Are you that desperate for it?”

The question was accompanied by a sharp snap of his hips that sent you reeling, too breathless for any sound to escape.

He spread your thighs apart even further, a hand beneath your left knee lifting your leg towards his chest.

The next quick thrust hit you even harder at that angle, a choked-out whine escaping you. Your fingers dug into the sheets as he ground himself into you, your pussy feeling split so overwhelmingly wide.

You were wound up so tight, you thought you were going to go crazy. It was impossible to think straight when he only did quick snaps of his hips at random intervals. You didn’t think you’d ever been hornier than this moment, and you swore you could feel the arousal leaking from your cunt.

You could see sparks of light behind your eyelids with how tightly you had them shut. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, the flesh still tender from Seokjin’s bite.

His thrusts became slow and deep, tiny gasps leaving your open mouth.

“Look at me,” he snarled suddenly, the sheer command in his voice sending shivers up your spine, gaze snapping onto him immediately. It took a moment for your vision to focus properly, still drowning in the sensation of his cock still moving within you.

If you thought he looked fierce, hungry, dangerous – you were his polar opposite.

To put it simply, you were a mess.

You were too lost in it all to notice the stutter in his hips when he locked eyes with you, but he almost stopped breathing entirely.

Your eyes were glazed over in pleasure, the tears just beginning to gather there only making their colour all the more enticing. Your expression was slack, and it looked like you couldn’t decide between clamping down on your bottom lip or leaving your mouth wide-open. You looked so vulnerable, so willing to put all of your trust in him to take care of you, make you feel good.

And fuck, if it wasn’t the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

His movements after that caught you off guard, his abrupt rough thrusting engulfing your body in flames of bliss, loud moan leaving you. As much as holding his gaze made everything feel so much more intense, you just couldn’t. Your head fell back onto the pillow, back arching as much as he would allow you to move in his tight hold.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice sounding almost helpless and he continued his movements, his arms the only thing keeping you from shifting up the mattress. As his gasps transitioned to groans and then loud moaning, you could feel yourself nearing your peak again.

He slowed his movements, the heavy panting reaching your eardrums and having you clench around him instinctively. The choked-out groan in response told you he was close, too.

“Jin,” you called out, the word so breathy that you almost didn’t recognize it despite it coming from your own lips.

You raised an arm to weakly grab at his body, hoping he got the message himself. You wanted him close, but highly doubted that you could manage to form the words right now.

Luckily, he seemed to know exactly what you wanted, dropping your leg and moving to hover over you, your breasts brushing his chest. He started thrusting slowly again, his head dropping to your collarbone as a hand wound into the hair at your scalp.

With him right on top of you, his pubic bone was brushing against your clit, the added stimulation having you whine loudly and dig your nails harshly into the skin of his back.

He didn’t seem to mind, a loud groan leaving him as he started mouthing at your neck, sucking bruises into the flesh.

But when you felt fangs briefly scrape over your skin, only one thought came to mind and refused to leave.

You wanted it, wanted his fangs to sink into you, wanted to feel that again. Now.

“Bite me,” you whimpered, pushing your head into the pillow and arching your back, eager to give him free reign as your orgasm inched closer and closer.

You expected him to protest, expected him to deny you, expected him to pull away.

But he did none of those things.

Instead, fangs sunk deeply into your neck with a feral growl, almost as soon as he heard the words leave your lips.

That same immense burst of pain rendered you motionless for a split second before that all-consuming euphoria descended on you.

You vaguely registered Seokjin moaning loudly above you as his hips stuttered, his lips locked on your neck. But you felt almost disconnected from the world, as though every nerve in your body was firing, your cunt pulsating around him as you reached the strongest high you’d ever felt.

It felt almost instinctual to grip at his back tightly, pulling him close, as if he’d ever want to leave. You didn’t even realize how loud you were being, your peak only going higher and higher, to the point of being overwhelming.

Tears streamed from where your eyes were clamped shut, moans turning into sobs as Seokjin ground against your overstimulated clit, your pussy clenched around him tightly.

You were so far gone you didn’t even notice the warmth spilling into you as he groaned loudly into your skin, his movements slowing before he pulled his mouth from you.

The crash was almost immediate, exhaustion and soreness taking over your limbs as you gasped for breath, the hands on Seokjin’s back falling limp. It felt like all the strength was sapped from your body, your consciousness half-absent.

You thought you heard Seokjin fussing over you, his hands wiping tears from your face, but to be honest, it was all a blur. He disconnected with you easily despite your mumbled protests, dropping a kiss on your forehead with a soft command not to move. You didn’t think you were capable of such a thing anyway.

You hardly registered his absence before he was back with a wet cloth. You didn’t know if that was because of his speed or because you were too tired to pay attention.

The next thing you knew, he had rolled you to lay on top of him, your face tucked into his neck as he stroked at your back. Normally, you might have complained about how much colder he was than you, but your skin was still so heated that the coolness was a relief.

You could tell that he was saying something quietly, unsure whether he was asking you something or not. His voice only brought you warm comfort, your arm moving to wrap around his waist.

You honestly weren’t too sure how long you laid there until your senses started coming back to you, but the hand on your back never stopped its soothing motions. The realization made you strangely embarrassed, wondering how long you’ve been out of it.

“Did I fall asleep?” you mumbled, nuzzling into the softness of Seokjin’s neck.

“Not really, it hasn’t been too long,” he responded, though the way he paused made it seem that he had more to say. It took a few moments before he got the words out. “Did I go too hard? Was it too much?”

Despite the low volume of his voice, he sounded almost frantic, and your brows furrowed. Why was he so worried?

“Of course not. I asked you for it, I knew exactly what I was getting into.”

He sighed heavily, his hands on you pausing. “I know, I just – I got worried when you were barely responding to me. I guess I was just afraid that you would be scared of me after.”

You felt a tinge of guilt at his concern, but logically it was nobody’s fault. As much as you wanted to take his face in your hands and tell him that you don’t regret anything and there wasn’t a world where you could ever be scared of him, you doubted your ability to do so right now. Instead, you hoped that simple reassurance could be enough.

“I loved it,” you said plainly, sleepiness clear in your voice. You were fighting past the fog in your brain to talk to him, wanting to make sure he knew where you stood.

“I loved it too,” he whispered before bringing up the blanket to cover both of you. “You sound tired. Why don’t we sleep?”

“Wait.”

“Hm?” he hummed in response, his confused expression hid from your view.

“Are you my boyfriend?” Your words sounded almost slurred with how close you were to unconsciousness, but his chest bouncing as he chuckled told you that he heard you just fine.

You were dangerously close to dreamland, but you caught his answer right before you fell asleep in his arms.

“Yeah, I’m your boyfriend.”

[the-lady-amphitrite]

— A FAIRYTALE BEGINNING | chapter 4

of love and traitors

pairing: Loki / f!half-Asgardian!Reader

word count: 6,687

summary: history is full of traitors, liars, and wronged lovers

in this chapter: some series lore in the form of a classroom history lesson, marvel/mcu norse lore replaced by real norse lore and my own canon for this series (specifically in regards to Laufey and Fárbauti), cliffhanger ending

author notes: welcome to the chapter wherein i begin to discard marvel/mcu canon that i dislike and replace it with norse myth references and/or my own headcanons! there's a lot of worldbuilding in this chapter, but don't worry too much about remembering it all. when some of this comes up again it'll be explained.

also, if you like arithmetic (physics mathematics specifically), for funny story purposes Reader in this chapter doesn't. 

( previous chapter | read on ao3 | series masterlist )

The next day, your lessons manage to throw you off-kilter multiple times throughout the day.

As with every weekday, you begin your lessons by attending your seiðr lessons with Loki and Frigga.

You’d been expecting to see Loki in her usual form, waiting for you on the divan closest to the balcony as usual while she practises crafting a few illusions. They’re something she’s shown incredible proficiency in over the years, besting even Frigga’s illusions when it comes to smaller figures and rivalling them on almost any other scale. Only the grandest and most intricate ones are the ones she continues to struggle with.

However, when you step into the room you’re greeted with something else entirely.

Loki in the same form as the day before, seated in his usual spot. The only real difference in what he’s wearing from yesterday seems to be the addition of a long leather vest that hangs down nearly to his knees. The long-sleeved tunic, breeches, and knee-high boots seem to be almost the same as the ones from yesterday.

You pause in the doorway, almost thinking for a moment that you’ve walked into the wrong room somehow. But when he looks up from his holotablet you recognise his face. A second later, that half-smile he’s so fond of making appears, one that you see multiple times a day. For whatever reason though, this morning the sight of it makes every thought in your brain filter out. You can feel something fluttering around in your chest, batting against your ribs like it’s trying to escape.

You blink, then return his smile and join him on the divan, keeping a little distance between you — you’re not really sure why, it just feels… right for you to have those extra inches after whatever happened yesterday.

Talk between the two of you is just as easy as ever. It makes you wonder why the brief one-on-one you’d had with him yesterday had been so… strange. You’re not entirely sure what was happening before Thor appeared. You’re not even sure that whatever it was is something you dislike. You certainly hadn’t minded in the moment from what you remember.

You’ve always thought Loki was really pretty, especially as the two of you have grown closer and grown older. In recent months, Thor and Baldr have teased you when they’ve caught you staring at her, but this is different.

Isn’t it?

When Frigga comes in from the garden a few minutes later part of you expects her to say something to Loki. Instead, she just calls the two of you over to the plants for today’s lesson. Even after the lesson on today’s plant (a flower often used in blood spells from Álfheimr’s valley kingdom, Andlàngr) she simply returns to teaching about the blood spells unit that she’d begun a week ago.

It occurs to you right then that this isn’t the first time he’s done this.

Loki’s a natural-born shapeshifter after all, and you remember a near-forgotten conversation where your best friend had mentioned he sometimes shifts his form to match his gender. Not every time, but you have seen him vary the length of his hair while in his feminine form a few times.

Shorter, and they had preferred neutral pronouns those months. Longer had usually (but not always) meant that she had preferred feminine ones. Sometimes it had been a mix of both feminine and neutral.

You recall that Odin’s lineage has had several natural-born shapeshifters — some of whom did the same as Loki — and you think you remember a mention from your history lessons that one of Odin’s siblings had been one too. Neither of Loki’s parents must have been all that surprised when he first started shifting forms.

With that line of thought closed, your focus on the lesson increases, and you begin to engage more than you had while your thoughts were occupied.

After your seiðr lesson, the two of you headed up to one of the giant public pavilions for your aerial lesson, rather than your family’s pavilion like you had those first few lessons.

You and Loki banter back and forth with one another most of the way up. The teasing remarks launched back and forth leave you both with wide smiles, aching cheeks, and shining eyes.

Today’s aerial lesson is… vastly different from what you’re used to as well.

The most normal part of it is how you and Loki are greeted by Thor and Baldr when you arrive.

Ásta and Gauti — Baldr and Thor’s respective companions for these lessons — have yet to arrive. It’s uncommon for neither of them to be here before you and Loki, especially since they fly here from the city rather than navigate the palace’s various hallways, staircases, and lifts. It isn’t until the doors to the pavilion open once more that you understand why they hadn’t been out here.

Your parents stride in ahead of your uncle, Ásta, and Gauti. Followed closely by the other seven Drekasál that call Asgard home.

There’s a sudden — and rather innate — wariness that seeps into you as you watch all of them approach. With your mother and uncle, there’s never been a sense of fear when they approach. Their presence is more soothing when you sense them.

The wariness from when you met Lady Bjǫrnsdóttir — Ásta — and her son Gauti has long since faded thanks to familiarity. But seven strange dragons approaching is (frankly) alarming to your senses. Not even your mother and uncle having their backs to them provides a balm to you.

Loki slips his hand in yours, squeezing it behind his back where you’ve half-hidden yourself.

Thor is on Loki’s other side, and while he looks relaxed, you know that he’s aware of your own worries by the tight grip on the haft of his battle-axe, Járnbjǫrn.

Baldr is on your other side, a step and a half in front of the three of you and the only one of your group who seems unbothered by the Drekasál approaching. If you were as tall and as strong-looking as he is, you might not have been worried by so many approaching dragons either.

But you’re young. A mere dragonling only months past her fourteenth birthday. The sight of so many powerful drekakona and drekamaðr before you is terrifying.

It’s almost comical how your parents leave a gap between the four of you and the party they’ve brought in. While your father bows his head and greets each of the princes, Kára only has eyes for you. There’s an obvious tightness to her frame as she looks at you, her shoulder pressed against Sveinn’s while her hand is intertwined with Tyr’s.

She tells you, “Sveinn and I have decided you’re overdue on learning to fly with a conflagration. Normally a teaching conflagration is made up of dragonlings of similar ages under an instructor, but with only you and Gauti on Asgard we hope having us make up the rest of the conflagration will do. Twelve is a bit large for one, but it will come in handy having all of us.”

Your eyes flicker from her, to the other Drekasál behind her, and then back to her. With a shaky, quiet breath, you step out from behind the Odinson’s, sliding your hand out of Loki’s as you cautiously walk into the open space between.

For a brief second, they just stare. Then, as one, they bow their heads at you.

“Lady Kárudóttir,” they say in unison.

It’s almost eerie how they do that, but you manage to reply with an even, “Lords, Ladies.”

What follows is a flurry of introductions from them. You recognise only one of them. And though you recognise her face among the faces of strangers, it’s her name that holds more meaning to you.

Lady Katla Rúnudóttir.

Your history tutor Lord Alfarr has spoken of her only briefly, with a promise to speak more about her when your class begins its section on Vanaheimr’s Drekasál.

Everyone knows that her mother Thyra was once a member of Vanaheimr’s Thrírkvenna — the three Vanir women who rule the realm. You also know that she grew up with Frigga on Vanaheimr and that she serves as one of the handmaidens that Frigga brought with her to Asgard after her betrothal to Odin. It’s where you see her most often, accompanying Frigga as she does whatever it is she does as the All-Mother.

You even suspect that Lady Rúnudóttir also protects the Queen, though you know Frigga can wield an assortment of weapons herself.

Once introductions are over, your mother is quick to organise the Drekasál as they shift. It isn’t long until you’re situated at the very back with Gauti, Thor on his back and Loki on yours. As the two largest dragons, Sveinn and Lady Rúnudóttir lead the conflagration.

Seconds later, you’re all diving off the side of the palace as one.

The next two hours are filled with challenges that test not only your own skills, but the trust you’ve placed in Loki and he in you. Learning how to fly with a conflagration doesn’t come naturally or easily. Even your mind-link with Loki comes with its own disadvantages (more for him than you) when you’re wound so tight.

Once it’s all finally over, you and Loki are quick to break away to take your routine after-lesson flight around the city. Thor and Gauti usually join you, but after how you bit Gauti’s tail during the lesson, the boys choose to just return to the palace with the others instead.

(And to be honest, you hadn’t bit Gauti that hard. He’d even snapped back at you. While his teeth hadn’t made contact — more a threat than an action — it had made the other Drekasál intervene.

They hadn’t kept you apart for the rest of the lesson though. Once that little spat was broken up, they acted as if it had never happened. You know that it’s considered a typical behaviour of dragons to snap at other beings. You also know that it’s apparently, exceedingly, normal for dragonlings to snap at and outright bite one another.

That doesn’t mean you enjoy knowing either of those things.

Perhaps that discomfort is a marker of your Æsir heritage. They’re gods of war, not gods of petty disagreements.)

Today, even the calm gliding around the city is exhausting. You end up taking the two of you to the far side of the sea, landing below one of the bridges that leads to one of the larger villages outside the city.

The water here is shallow and cold, almost reaching your elbows as you stand and nearly covering your back once you lay down with your feet tucked beneath you. Perfect for you to stretch out your dragon form in, wings open wide.

Loki lounges on his back atop the wide platform around the pile you landed beside.

Your head is in his lap, your eyes closed and breaths slowing down as you listen to him read aloud from some book of legends that he found in the royal library. All that you can hear down here besides him are the birds and the waves gently knocking against the platform.

You’re sure you at least half-doze in this calm, letting the legend Loki’s reciting (something to do with an ancient fire god) roll over you while the sea waves gently rock you.

All too soon though, the two of you hear the alarm on his holotablet announce that it’s time for you to return to the palace for lunch before your afternoon lessons.

The two of you take your lunch in the dining halls on the ground floor. Down here it’s less rowdy than the main dining hall several floors up where most of the court gathers for meals. There’s still plenty of chatter from the several einherjar, valkyrjur, seiðkonur, and the single seiðberandi who are also here enjoying their meals.

While your time below the bridge was filled only by the sounds of Loki reading, the two of you have scattered conversations about what the rest of today’s lessons might be like as you eat.

Today’s lessons are linguistics, arithmetic, and history.

You adore your linguistics lessons; learning about the different languages that All-Speak cannot translate for you has been fun for you and the younger sons of Odin. While there are half a dozen languages that you’re required to learn for diplomacy reasons, you know afterwards there’s an entire quarter of a galaxy’s worth of languages that you can learn if you wish. Not every language can be spoken by Æsir or Drekasál vocal cords, but for those that can, there are tutors willing to teach.

Arithmetic you would rather not have, but it’s a required course even for a (potential) war goddess like you. There are some parts of the course you like, but you certainly could do without all the formulae that come with it.

History though, that one is your favourite. You’re not certain what came first: your fascination with the myths and legends that come from all of Yggdrasil’s branches, or your adoration for history.

Some days they feel like they sprung up from the same patch of your soul to twine their roots into your very being.

Your class will also be moving on to a new section starting today, something that excites you each time you remember that this section will also have guest lecturers for some of the lessons. You’re not sure what the section will be, but you have no doubt that it’s going to be something you won’t soon forget.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

After lunch, linguistics seems to streak by like an asteroid.

One moment you, Loki, and the other Asgardians in your class are filing into the spacious room, ready to listen to the Kree woman who’s taken up the mantle of teaching you her language. The next she’s leaving and being replaced by your arithmetic tutor.

Arithmetic on the other hand seems to drag on today.

Not that that’s any different from most days you’re in this lesson. Thor — seated at the table directly next to the one you and Loki occupy — seems for all intents and purposes like he’s not paying any attention at all to the lesson.

Everyone knows better than that though; Thor understands this class better than Loki does. It’s like his brain is wired for understanding it, even if he usually plays off just how smart he is.

Beside Thor sits your cousin in all his long, curly-haired boredom, looking like he’s about to fall asleep. Volstagg is just as bored by this class as you are, one of the things the two of you joke show’s that yes, you are related despite everything else that makes you different (though several people have confused your cousin for a younger version of your father because of their apparent visual similarities).

You and Volstagg are thankful Thor and Loki understand whatever is coming out of your tutor’s mouth (something about gravity and velocity, you think) so that way you don’t really need to listen.

After arithmetic, there’s a short break before history begins for the day. You perch yourself on the edge of your table, making sure not to sit on the interface screen part of it and letting out a weary sigh as you try to recuperate from the lesson.

“You looked as if you were falling asleep at the end.” Loki leans against the table next to you, a smile on his face.

You roll your eyes at his teasing, unable to hide your own slight grin. “Really? I can’t imagine why I would be. Arithmetic is so fascinating.”

“As I recall, you said it’s ‘droll and completely unnecessary’.”

“Because it is!” You turn to him, waving both of your hands without much purpose as you say, “When will I need to know the velocity of a thrown spear on Ria compared to Vanaheimr because of their different gravity’s? If I’m throwing it, it’s piercing whoever or whatever I threw it at in either realm.”

“Are you sure about that?” Loki quirks an eyebrow at you. You narrow your eyes, recognising the shimmer of mischief there that you know so well.

“As long as someone doesn’t telekinetically change my spear’s path, then yes. Perks of being a war goddess, my prince,” you say sweetly, fluttering your lashes at him.

“You only assume you’re a war goddess because your father is a war god, darling,” Loki replies, leaning closer. “What if you’re a weather goddess?”

“You know I have no natural affinity for the weather elements, Loki,” you reply, leaning forward on your hands. “Not that I’ve shown much of an affinity for really anything specific just yet.”

“For what it’s worth, I believe you’ll make a wonderful war goddess.”

“We don’t even know what kind of war goddess I might be. For all we know my domain might just be war tactics.”

Loki’s smile is soft and warm, and you watch his eyes flick down for a brief moment before rising back up to look you right in the eye. “As I said, a wonderful war goddess.”

Something akin to a ball of air lodges in your throat at the sentiment, and what feels like your heart flutters at his words. He knows exactly what to say to reassure you whenever you worry about this. The action never fails to soften a bit of your heart that he alone seems to touch.

You open your mouth to speak when Thor appears with your cousin.

“Not making plans to skip out on history without us, are you?” Volstagg asks, planting himself on your other side and throwing a heavy arm over your shoulder as he pulls you against him.

“If we were you would be the last one to know, cousin.”

“Can’t even have a part in your breakout, for shame. My own beloved cousin would leave me to the war wolves without even a goodbye!” Volstagg laments. You laugh and pat his arm a few times before removing it from your shoulder. “Look, Thor! She doesn’t even deny it!”

“I fear I am in no better standing, my friend,” Thor says with a chuckle. “Once she threw me into the river out back from thirty floors up. Wasn’t even ashamed of it when I finally made it back to land.”

“That,” you start, pointing a stern finger at him, “was a dream that you told your brothers and I about. It didn’t actually happen.”

Thor puts a hand over his heart, a shocked expression on his face. “Now she calls me a liar. Have you no shame, Firefly?”

Loki makes a quiet tsk, and smirks at his brother. “Are you insinuating our esteemed Firefly is a liar, dear brother?”

“I fear he is my friend. I may have to fight him to regain my honour. Who’s up for watching the princeling eat a bit of dirt again after class?” You ask, unable to hold back your full-blown grin at the middle prince.

Thor raises his hands, a sheepish grin on his face. “I meant no offence, dear lady. However I will not turn down a chance to spar with you later if it’s your wish.”

“Two-on-two? You and Loki against me and Volstagg,” you offer. You hear the door to the room open. You glance over at the door, spotting your history tutor as he makes his way in.

“You have a deal.” There’s an excited gleam in Thor’s eye. The thunder godling loves a good sparring session, especially against you.

Even with just a heightened affinity for weapons and no apparent weaponry-specific domain, your skills with them seem to have given everyone the impression that you’re definitely a war goddess. It’s at least made for thrilling sparring between the two of you, neither of you holding back even when using your magical skills (his weather affinity against your budding seiðr skills) to up the ante of winning a match when something is being bartered.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” your history tutor, Lord Alfarr, says. All around the classroom conversations cease, and heads turn towards your history tutor as he sets his large holotablet on the desk your tutors all share.

You twist around and smile at your tutor, greeting him warmly with, “Good afternoon, Lord Alfarr. How fares your husband?”

“He is feeling much better, Lady Kárudóttir, thank you.” There’s a crinkle to his eyes that gives away the warm smile beneath his heavy, dark beard that is nearly indistinguishable from his dark skin to your eyes. “I hope no one had too much fun in arithmetic, because I have an exciting section for us starting today: the history of the Drekasál and their influence upon the Nine Realms.”

The sudden burst of chatter at this is accompanied by the other kids in class looking your way. The sudden rush of attention flusters you. You’re used to being stared at because you’re friends with the princes, which has meant the attention has never really been on you.

But this is different. This is about you and what you are.

In a bid to get away from the prying eyes of the others in the room you slide off the table and sink into your chair, head down. Here you’re hidden by both of the princes at least. Thor is now leaning against the table with his back to you, saying something you can’t quite catch to the others.

Norns, you hope whatever he’s saying isn’t about them staring at you. Perhaps luckily, Lord Alfarr speaks up again.

“We also have two Drekasál guests from other realms.” He’s looking down at his holotablet, typing something onto the screen. “If you will please take your seats, they will be here in a few short moments.”

There’s another burst of chatter as everyone moves to their seats, Loki taking his seat at the table you share while Thor and Volstagg go back to theirs.

Volstagg puts a hand on your shoulder as he passes, a silent affirmation that he has your back. You love your cousin for those moments. He’s grown so much closer to you over the years as he’s befriended Thor in your classes. He’s turned down learning to ride a dragon thus far, but you’re certain that at some point he’s going to take up the offer you and the princes keep extending him.

Quietly and without attracting any fuss from the others, Loki slips his hand in yours and squeezes. The effect is immediate. A sun blooms where your hands' touch, and the warmth spreads up your arm. The warmth comes with a tingle that you don’t remember from yesterday. Even with this, the tenseness that you’d been holding melts from you at the unspoken I’m here he’s given.

You look up at him, and though he’s not looking at you there’s the barest curl of a smile that you see from his side profile. You squeeze his hand back, an unspoken Thank you.

The door to the room opens again just as Hallr takes his seat next to his twin brother Steinarr.

Two men walk in, both wearing dark-coloured cloaks over what you assume to be their normal daywear. Both are light-skinned, but the taller one has black hair and a short but thick-looking beard, while the shorter one has cool grey hair that spills onto his cape but no beard. As Lord Alfarr greets them both, Loki leans over and begins whispering to you.

“The taller one on the right has a black beard and hair. His cloak is a dark blue, lighter than your scales. All of his armour is a dark brown and silver, a mixture of leather and uru. The other has red hair, like fire embers. His cloak is a dark purple, darker than the purple on your clothes.” A pause. “Why are you wearing purple today?”

You blink, confused at the question. “Loki, I don’t even know what colour I normally wear.”

“A really dark blue that almost looks black. It’s a colour that matches your scales. What you’re wearing today is a bit darker than your mother’s scales,” he tells you without hesitation. You let out a soft hmm, wondering what other colours you’ve worn without realising it.

“Prince Loki, Lady Kárudóttir,” Lord Alfarr drawls, drawing attention to the hushed conversation between you and the prince. Warmth begins to creep up the back of your neck. “Might I inquire as to what the two of you are speaking about.”

“Just informing the lady about our guests, Lord Alfarr. She asked about what they were wearing since, as you know, she’s still under the effects of the monochromacy spell,” Loki tells your tutor as he sits back up.

Lord Alfarr looks at you and you dip your head to confirm this, telling him “My apologies, my lord, if we were causing a disturbance.”

“You are the daughter of Lady Kára Leifsdóttir?” The dark-haired Drekasál asks, cutting off whatever Lord Alfarr might have said.

“Yes?” You look between both of the Drekasál, your grip on Loki’s hand tightening as you tense up.

“I am Hrafn Njálsson, Eldgardian, and King of the Drekasál,” he says, placing his hand over his heart as he dips his head at you. He gestures to his companion. “This is Vragi Kötluson, Gymirsgardian and Seljasund city’s jarl.”

You’re rocked by the fact that these are not just two random Drekasál. This is the king of your people and one of the nine jarls of Gymirsgard, one of two realms that your people claim as home.

You bow your head low, practically touching the desk with your forehead. You think maybe you’re supposed to also stand up as well, but you can’t remember so you stay seated. “King Njálsson, Jarl Kötluson. It’s an honour to meet you both.”

“The honour is ours, Lady Kárudóttir,” King Njálsson says, a smile on his face as his eyes shift to the dark-haired prince at your side. The Drekasál king is quiet as he looks around the room at everyone. “I must confess, I mean no disrespect to the Asgardian princes, nor to any other lord or lady by greeting Lady Kárudóttir. By custom my people greet one another first, before we greet others. By law she is one of my subjects as well, even though she was born here on this realm and is considered Asgardian by you all. She is a Drekasál first and foremost in my eyes, and so I am her king. It would have been wrong of me to treat her in any other regard.”

“No disrespect was taken, King Njálsson,” Loki says with a charming smile, nodding at the dark-haired king. “Lady Leifsdóttir informed both myself and Prince Thor of this custom when we asked some time ago why the other Drekasál of Asgard greeted Lady Kárudóttir before they greeted us.”

“We will have to thank her for that when we see her and her heartmate later. Thank you, Prince Loki.” King Njálsson nods at your friend and then turns his attention back to Lord Alfarr. “I understand that you asked for our presence so that we might help your students understand the history of my people. Please, lead the discussion and we will lend information where we can to fill in the gaps.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” Lord Alfarr turns to his desk, turning on the interface screen and then picking his holotablet off the desk as a holoimage of a Drekasál’s human and dragon form spring up out of the desk. He taps his tablet a few times and then folds his arms behind his back as he begins speaking.

“Today we begin the section on Asgard’s staunchest allies across history, the Drekasál. Who here can tell me when the Æsir first encountered the Drekasál?”

“No one, my lord,” Loki replies. “The known history of the Æsir and the Drekasál stretches back farther than our records go. The earliest records we still have that mention them are around twenty thousand years old and even those texts indicate that our two species had an already long history together.”

“Correct, Your Highness.” Lord Alfarr looks to the two Drekasál who have taken seats on one of the free desks.

Even though you aren’t looking at them, you get the distinct impression that King Njálsson is keeping an eye on you. You’re not really sure why he would, aside from perhaps he has some strange worries about Asgardian education. Maybe you’ll be able to ask him later.

“Our people first met some thirty-four thousand years ago. We were a young species at the time, with no inclination to journey among the stars. Your Æsir ancestors found us on our homeworld, which has long since been destroyed. They called it Drekaheimr,” there’s a twitch of a smile from the king. You’re amused too by how on the nose it is, dragon home. “We called it Dálhem, valley home. According to stories passed down, the name was very apt. It was a realm of many valleys that our ancestors flew.”

“If you know this, then why don’t we?” Hallr asks. He’s a fledgling war god, you recall. His godnaming has to do with bows, meaning that if he chooses to join the Einherjar someday he would be one of the ulfheðnar — a scout or ranger of Asgard’s mighty army. It would be an honourable position for him.

King Njálsson shrugs. “I do not know. I had assumed Asgard retained records of our ancestors’ encounters. Perhaps even maps or drawings of the land we once called home.”

Everyone in the room looks to Lord Alfarr who shakes his head sadly. “We have scattered mentions of valleys deep enough to hide a dragon, and forests open enough for your ancestors to traverse as dragons but no maps or drawings of the realm remain within our archives.”

There’s a strange sense of melancholy that settles into your bones over a home you’ve never known. It was the origin of your ancestors, and once the seat of power for your people as well.

Now your people only have Eldgard and Gymirsgard left. Who truly knows for how much longer you’ll have them either. In the future, Ragnarǫk is prophesied to rip across the realms; those few that remain after will be left broken and ruined.

“Was the soulmate bond always something your people had?” one of your classmates asks. You look over at the sister goddesses who sit a few tables up, unsure which of them had spoken. Amora (the white-haired sister) looks like she might be doodling on her holotablet; her sister Lorelei (the sister with cool-grey hair) is staring at both the king and the jarl.

“No.” Jarl Kötluson looks from her to King Njálsson, and when the Drekasál king nods the jarl carries on. “While we know the moment they first appeared we are not… entirely certain why the soulmate bonds began. Over the millennia since the spell was cast we have attempted several times to undo it. When those efforts failed, we searched for who might have cast it. Such attempts to uncover or locate the being responsible has led only to dead ends.”

“When did they first appear?” This one comes from Steinnar, Hallr’s younger twin brother. He hasn’t received his godnaming yet, but his skills point to another bow god of some kind.

The Drekasál king seems to ponder the question for a moment, collecting what he knows to share with your class. His eyes roam across the class, settling on the corner you and your friends occupy. He’s looking at you again, but why?

“I believe it was during the time of King Bjǫrn, All-Father Buri’s father,” King Njálsson says, turning his eyes away and letting them fall on another member of your class as he continues to speak. “It would have been the second millennium of King Bjǫrn’s reign, not long after he married Queen Auðumbla, the Aesir goddess of bovines. There were… unseemly rumours that Queen Auðumbla’s elder sister — the High Lady Auðhild — was the one who had cast the spell as retaliation for her Drekasál lover rejecting her marriage proposal and leaving her.”

“High Lady Auðhild was a land goddess,” Loki objects, brows furrowing. “She had no seiðr skills beyond those useful to know any terrain she stepped on.”

You know Loki is telling the truth; Frigga had said the same about the High Lady when she had taught the two of you about land seiðr, including many of the gods here and gone who have been granted the ability to wield it.

King Njálsson’s eyes are trained on your corner again. “It’s why King Ingikársson dismissed them as rumours. Despite the public fallout between the High Lady and her lover, she lacked any skill in seiðr to do such an extensive spell herself.”

“There was nothing to point to her having acquired outside help to do such a spell either,” Jarl Kötluson adds, his eyes darting up to his king before they return to the other members of the class. “The High Lady also married King Ingikársson’s soulmate, some thousand years after that.”

“Do either of you have a soulmate?” you ask suddenly, curious. Both of them smile and then point at one another. You blink, surprised.

Now that you’re actively watching the way the two of them interact, you can see that the two of them seem to gravitate around one another, the same as your mother and uncle, or Lady Rúnudóttir and her brother Lord Tórbjǫrn Rúnuson. It’s something you’re so used to that you hadn’t really noticed it until now.

You can’t help yourself when you ask, “How does that work? You’re so far apart with one of you in Eldgard and one on Gymirsgard. My mother and uncle never leave the realm, and rarely do one of them leave the city without the other.”

“It was a conversation Hrafn and I had after we bonded,” the jarl begins. The way he leans against his soulmate, shoulder pressed against shoulder, is one you’ve seen your mother do when she’s seeking strength from your uncle. “We had our own duties already, Hrafn as the Burning Crown and I as the jarl of Seljasund. After a long discussion we worked out a schedule for seeing each other, and we speak each day as well. It’s a bit unconventional, but we’ve made it work.”

You nod, your eyes dropping to what’s displayed on the interface table as you absorb this for consideration about your own future; the beginning of the timeline Lord Alfarr has uploaded for the history of your kind. There’s a new segment added to the beginning, the bit of history that your people’s king had imparted that your tutor hadn’t had access to before. It’s cited as information from King Njálsson himself.

“Does anyone have more questions about soulmates for our guests?” Lord Alfarr asks his class.

With a low series of murmurs, the class begins to speak up and ask various other questions to the king and the jarl.

You pay far less attention than you had been, your thoughts occupied by the questions you now have about your mother and uncle. Questioning the many assumptions you’ve made about soulmates because they are the only bonded Drekasál you’ve ever consistently been around before today.

The brush of Loki’s thumb over the back of your hand draws you back to the lesson. You’re glad for it too, as you realise someone had asked about Odin’s late sister and her Drekasál soulmate.

The Drekasál king’s face is pinched, as if he’s thinking hard about how to answer before he does.

“Princess Laufey Borsdóttir and Lady Dagmær Ignadóttir. I remember them both.” He goes quiet again, and the entire room quiets at his words. There’s a sense of anticipation, an underlying curiosity about the late princess who died near the end of the recent war with Jǫtunheimr.

The dark-haired king leans back against Lord Alfarr’s desk with a heavy sigh, crossing his arms as he does so. “I met Dagmær some seven centuries ago, not long before she and Laufey became soulmates. As you all know, that was the first time a Drekasál had bonded to a member of Asgard’s royal family. The two of them were well respected and well loved by those of us who knew them. Their loss to Jǫtunheimr and their deaths in the subsequent war were taken very hard among my people, especially since the late princess became considered one of our own over time.”

“Lord Alfarr told us that Asgard didn’t immediately retaliate when Princess Borsdóttir was taken, and that was in part due to our people,” you say, looking between them. There’s an uncomfortable look passed between the two Drekasál before King Njálsson speaks again.

“That has some truth in it. Our people have no control over who we bond to, and at the time there were several Drekasál who were bonded to Frost Giants and Jǫtnar living on Jǫtunheimr. My grandfather sought a path of resolving it without conflict in an attempt to spare lives.”

“The attempt was unsuccessful. Many died on both sides in the eventual war while the safety of Midgard and Eldgard were threatened by King Fárbauti’s invasion with the Casket of Ancient Winters.” You look at Loki, not really surprised by his words — you’ve all heard the stories about the Frost Giants and the King of Jǫtunheimr and the horrors they tried to unleash after kidnapping Princess Borsdóttir. No, what surprises you is how he continues.

“Wouldn’t it have been better for everyone if the late King Randvísson had ordered the Drekasál of Jǫtunheimr to return my late aunt and her soulmate? As King of the Drekasál he had that power.”

The way King Njálsson stiffens at Loki’s words catches you by surprise. He cuts a look between the Asgardian prince, you, and his soulmate. You don’t understand it, and something about this action feels… off. You’re not really sure why either.

The jarl is the one who answers Loki’s question.

“None of us are sure why he didn’t, Your Highness. He had the power, yes, but as best we can guess he was seeking to avoid all conflict, including conflict from the late Drekasál who had soulmates on Jǫtunheimr. Even a few angry Drekasál are dangerous, which I suspect you have possibly learnt from being around Lady Kárudóttir.”

You and Loki glance at each other, neither of you willing to divulge just how different you are from other Drekasál usually. Your eyes also flicker over to Thor and Volstagg, both of whom are looking at you with concern etched on their face by the Gymirsgardian jarl’s words. You see Thor open his mouth, but when Volstagg nudges him with an elbow, the prince’s mouth quickly shuts as he shoots a questioning look at your cousin.

“Isn’t it true that there were Drekasál who betrayed Asgard to side with Jǫtunheimr in the war?” The bored-sounding question comes from Amora, her doodling paused as she leans back in her seat to stare straight at Jarl Kötluson.

“If that is how you wish to view it. Many of the Drekasál on Jǫtunheimr’s side of the war had Frost Giant or Jǫtnar soulmates. Some of those Drekasál had been living on Asgard for a time leading up to the war.”

“But what about the ones who fought for Jǫtunheimr without the incentive of a soulmate on the other side of the war?” Amora cocks an eyebrow. Something in you twists as King Njálsson slowly nods his head.

“There were a few. Dagmær died defending her soulmate from all according to every account. None who approached the late princess were safe. The others who fought for Jǫtunheimr made their own choice.”

Amora leans forward, propping her head up on her hand, an expression of innocent curiosity on her face. You catch her throwing a quick glance at you before she says, “Like Lord Sveinn Einarsson choosing to side with them and fight his soulmate, Lady Kára Leifsdóttir?”

( next chapter )

Find the lore notes for this chapter here!

[ahiddenpath]

Writing Tips

Got some quick, immediately actionable writing tips for ya beneath the cut!  

Disclaimer:  I am a hobbyist, you should regard me with suspicion.

1.)  Make your prose direct, not passive

English classes are far behind me, so please forgive my lack of technical terminology, but your prose will be more clear and direct if you use active language!

Active language:  Bob ate the hamburger.

Passive language:  The hamburger was eaten by Bob/Bob was eating the hamburger.

Whatever the heck this is:  Bob had eaten the hamburger/The hamburger had been eaten by Bob.

There are several benefits to avoiding “was x-ing” and “had been y-ing”.  It’s wordy, it’s repetitive, it can be vague/confusing/unclear, and it removes a sense of immediacy from your prose.  Working around these weird... tenses?  Voices?  Can also make your sentences flow the same way, over and over, which our brains don’t enjoy reading.

2.)  Vary sentence structure and length

Varying your sentences can create a pleasing rhythmic feeling!  Learn more about that here!

3.)  Avoid epithets unless they serve a purpose

So I assume folks use epithets to avoid repetition of character names?  But using a character’s name is a good thing!  Epithets can be confusing and clunky, and they require extra brain power from your reader.  Who was the architect again?  Do I care who among the characters is blond?  Is that really more important than their name?  If a character is referred to as the blond, I’m going to wonder why that’s relevant at the moment.  Save that processing power for more important things.

That said, there are cases where epithets are useful.  For example, if it’s relevant to the plot that someone is an architect, mentioning it as an epithet might be helpful.  They also come in handy when a character has not been introduced yet; ie, referring to the barista as ‘the barista’ until she provides her name.  

This isn’t an all-or-nothing scenario, but at least give reducing epithets a shot.  

4.)  Remove redundant adjectives

Adjectives are often redundant.  For example, “She slammed the door loudly.”  The loudness is implied by slammed; no one can slam a door quietly.  A large chunk of adjective usage falls into this redundant category, and redundant words should be excised from drafts.

Confront all of your adjectives.  If they add meaning or qualification, keep them.  If they’re redundant, remove them.

5.)  Remove unnecessary dialogue attributions

You don’t need to point out who spoke every line of dialogue.  Context clues can provide that information.  For example, if only one character calls another character by a certain name or title, the speaker is implied when that name or title is used.  I often mention the speaker immediately before or after the dialogue line in the prose to indicate who spoke.

Jyou balked, almost afraid to touch her.  "N-Nice to meet you."  Yes, excellent.  That was a sensible sequence of words, which was a mercy.  

Although I did not use the word ‘said’ or any variants, it’s clear that Jyou is the speaker.

6.)  Avoid vague and unimpactful words

I like to substitute the following words for more clear and impactful options: 

-Get:  Vague, unclear language.  If you got an item, did you purchase it?  Steal it?  Pick it up?  Was it in your pocket?  

-Very:  Denotes scale in a way that is often less impactful than a stronger word.  For example, furious paints a more vivid picture than very angry.

-Just:  I often find that, when I remove the word ‘just’ from a sentence, the meaning does not change. 

7.)  Learn how to edit

Stephen King’s editing advice in On Writing changed how I write forever.  Every library has a copy, I’m sure, so go go go read it!  In the meantime, I use some of his techniques in this video and these drafts.

8.)  Separate drafting from editing

If you agonize over your first draft, you might find yourself overwhelmed and avoiding writing, even if you’re excited about your story.  My advice is to embrace mediocrity (and outright stinky writing) in your first draft, and get down your ideas without any worries about quality.  Things are far less intimidating when you have a sense of where the writing is going, even if the first draft is awful!  I wrote more about this here.

9.)  Avoid distractions while writing

I write about 800 to 1,000 words per hour when I write without distraction.  That number can be as low as zero when the internet and my smartphone are within reach!  While writing, consider turning off the internet and putting your phone in silent mode (with the most important contacts set to still ring).  There are also distraction free writing devices (Alpha Smart Neo 2 or Astrohaus Freewrite), but they can be expensive.

And that’s all I got right now!  Give them a try, if you’re interested!

[iamanartichoke]

Another totally unprompted ask, on the assumption that you are definitely no longer in need of them… another thing I’m trying to work out about Loki characterisation in preparation for perpetrating fic torture on him is how suicidal the poor sod is most of the time. This is another thing I’ve seen referred to a lot but only in passing. Though obviously this is a pretty triggery topic, so ignore if you want.

I am always in need of totally unprompted asks, otherwise I just assume no one wants to talk to me lmao

So, hoo boy. I have been mulling over this for, apparently, three days now bc there's just ... there's a lot to unpack here. Putting under a cut for obviously triggery content and also for length bc fml.

In my opinion, the response to "how suicidal is Loki most of the time" is "very, but whether or not he wants to do anything about it varies from moment to moment" (see what I did there? I'll see myself out). In other words, I have always had a headcanon that Loki is consistently, passively suicidal. This is a headcanon that comes straight from TDW, bc I'm certain that Loki never had any intention of surviving their mission. And that could be a whole other post, really, but the point is that even though this is a TDW-centric headcanon, I have come to adopt it as applying to Loki in general as well, not just in those specific circumstances.

When I say passively suicidal, I mean that Loki is just sort of ambivalent about the value of his own life. He feels like he doesn't deserve to be alive, and feels like there's little point in being alive. Which - I don't mean to sound all gloom and doom, like, poor uwu emo Loki (and I kinda hate that I have to pause to disclaim that, no, I don't just have a fixation on Loki being depressed for funsies/the aesthetic/whatever); I think that this mindset stems from really complicated places that I'm not sure I can articulate, but I will try.

I view Loki as someone who suffers from a severe inferiority complex, and I feel like it stems from being abandoned as an infant. Loki's life started with a traumatic event and, even if he doesn't remember the event itself, the feelings he experienced stayed in his subconscious. Feelings of loss, of fear, of despair and abandonment, of suffering - these are all feelings that burrowed into his bones and lived there for his entire life, feelings that colored how Loki viewed himself as a person as well as how he compared to the people around him.

Keep in mind that Loki didn't know he was abandoned until the events of Thor 1, obviously. We don't really know how old Loki is, in human years, but I have always assumed that he and Thor were at least adults (not teenagers), maybe the equivalent of early twenties - and the reason I bring that up is because it means Loki made it all the way to adulthood carrying the weight of a trauma that he did not remember or even knew had happened, so to him, there was no real reason for how wrong he felt. There was no explanation for the feelings of loss, of neglect, of fear. So on top of struggling with those feelings, Loki was also burdened with the alienation that comes with wondering why one can't just be like everyone else, why one can't just "snap out" of depression, why one's sense of self-worth has always been lacking.

So imagine what it's like to grow up as Loki. He was traumatized as an infant. The trauma has been with him his entire life, along with the confusion/alienation of not understanding why he feels the way that he does, and then on top of that, his basic personality lends itself toward introspection and isolation, so he likely felt even further removed from Thor and from his peers. Loki's too smart for his own good, and he's got an enormous capacity to feel and I feel like this is a combination that works against him as much as it does for him, bc it probably means he spent a lot of time examining himself and identifying all of his perceived flaws - and then berating himself for said flaws.

People with depression are probably pretty familiar with the bully that lives in your head, the one who is always there to remind you that you're stupid, or ugly, or that nobody likes you, or that you have nothing of value to contribute to anyone, etc. Loki's no different; he's got that bully in his head, too. Add onto this the fact that his brother is literally perfect, that he feels his father doesn't love him (or love him as much), that his interests in things like magic are looked down on in his culture, and that he's a prince (meaning that along with the privilege comes pressure, and being in the public eye, knowing that everyone around him is comparing him to Thor as much as he compares himself to Thor, well.) and you have a total clusterfuck of a mindset, and Loki's been existing inside of that clusterfuck for nearly all of his life.

I always go back to the quote where, when filming I think the vault scene, Kenneth Branagh directs Tom by saying, "This is the moment where the thin steel rod holding your brain together snaps." And it's such a significant moment for Loki bc this is where it all crumbles for him, learning the truth, but I also fixate on the "thin steel rod" part of the quote bc that's not how one would describe a healthy, stable person's mind. The implication, to me, has always been that Loki wasn't that stable to start with due to his general upbringing, his internal struggles, and his personality, so of course the devastation of learning he's adopted, and Jotun, would send him over the edge. One doesn't go from zero to 60; one doesn't fall over the edge unless they were balancing fairly close to it in the first place. And to me, the "thin steel rod" basically equals the aforementioned clusterfuck of a mindset.

THE POINT IS. (Holy shit, I ramble.) This is the foundation on which I'm basing my headcanon that Loki neither values his life nor feels as if he even deserves to live it - bc his default mindset is one of inferiority, of loss, of pain. And I think that going from being a general unstable person pre-canon to being passively suicidal post-canon is a thing that happened because, somewhere between the vault in Thor 1 and the dungeons in TDW, Loki just stopped caring.

Life is exhausting for everyone, but even moreso when your mental load becomes more than you can carry. Loki is exhausted. His experience is that things just keep getting worse and worse for him - he's never been valued, he's always been found wanting. He discovers that he was literally thrown away as an infant, unwanted and left to die, and things haven't gotten much better for him since then. Everything that can go wrong, does go wrong. His plans spin out of control. He's unable to prove his worth and his value and when he is, in fact, rejected, he literally tries to kill himself (only to survive and end up in an even worse situation).

It all just continually goes downhill, and Loki is fucking exhausted. He's done. He has no hope that anything is ever going to change - he will never be valued or even seen, he's unable to connect to anyone, he has no family (aside from Thor, but their relationship is so fraught with pain). As far as he's concerned, his life has been nothing but a waste since he was born and if no one else values it, why should he?

So - passively suicidal. He places no value on his life, and doesn't shy away from situations that could cost him his life. It's possible that the only reason he's not actively suicidal is bc his previous attempt not only failed but led to such a horrible situation that he's probably too afraid to intentionally seek out death again. He doesn't want to fail and end up worse off for it.

And - not that you asked this in particular, but - my biggest disappointment in the series is that none of what I've just written is addressed in a satisfying way (to me). That is, we don't get any real explicit acknowledgement of the trauma of Loki's abandonment as a baby or how that affected his mental health growing up; we don't get to explore how devastated he was to learn of his adoption; we don't ever see him reconcile his ingrained belief that jotuns are monstrous savages with the fact that he is jotun. He says "I betrayed everyone I loved, but I'm different now" and we're supposed to infer what he means without Loki actually articulating why he feels that he's the only one who should be held responsible for all these things that had happened or what "I've changed" even means to him (aside from not betraying Sylvie).

I would have liked to see these things addressed for a lot of reasons, but one of those reasons is that I would want to see how Loki comes to terms with all of his issues and his pain enough that he stops being passively suicidal. We never get to see that; after TDW, the time that passes allows for Loki to kinda chill, resulting in the Ragnarok version, but if there was any real healing or recovering going on, it was happening off-screen, with the audience expected to just go with "yeah Loki was going through it for awhile but he's kinda better now."

Furthermore, much of what I've written here is based on prime Loki's development through TDW, but doesn't account for series Loki's split from that timeline nor the theme of "Lokis survive" that's so prevalent in the series. So I don't think the "passively suicidal" headcanon is really appropriate for series Loki but, at the same time, I'd like to have seen why. I'd like to have seen Loki learning to value his life, or where the "we survive" mindset comes from, since that's not really been a thing before now. (Out of universe, I suspect it comes from the context of Loki just not dying whenever he tries to, but since TDW and IW haven't happened, and Loki didn't intend to survive his fall from the bifrost, framing Loki as an innate survivor doesn't really make sense, but to be fair, I'm just being picky.)

So, yeah. I'm not saying Loki doesn't experience growth or development in the series, I'm just saying that his arc left much unsaid and, furthermore, framing his growth as "wanting a throne to not wanting a throne" without addressing that Loki doesn't actually want the power of the throne, he wants the value and self-worth he associates with the throne, is - well, again, unsatisfying. Not bad, but it leaves viewers like me wanting bc we're cognizant of how much more could have been done.

I ... am going to end this now. This is probably nonsensical and all over the place, so I'm very sorry, and I'm sure this is why I don't get meta-starter asks lmfao bc no one's out here trying to read my dissertation submission for a Ph.D in Loki, but well, sometimes it just be like that.

Thank you for the ask and the opportunity to ramble.

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Continues

Part 11: The Delivery

Summary: Jensen and Y/n welcome their newest addition to this world.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 7.2K+

Warnings: Language, angst, descriptions of labor and birth

Author’s Note: Baby Ackles is finally ready to make their first appearance. If you have been following this story since the beginning, you may want to grab a tissue, there just might be some tears (happy tears tho). Also, I will preface this chapter by saying I have never been pregnant nor given birth so please don’t @ me with any inaccuracies, I tried my dudes. Special thanks to my loves for the constant undeserved support and my devoted beta @emoryhemsworth​ xoxo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

The winter sun had long ago dipped underneath the horizon, the night bringing a new level of quiet to the residential corner where the birthing center was located. Inside birthing suite two, the only soft light came from the LED strips that followed the length of the walls at the base and ceiling. Currently, they were tuned low and blue, the light mixing with the neutral decor in a way that made her feel like she was underwater. 

Curled on her side in the queen-sized bed, Y/n watched out the window on the opposite wall. Through the sheer curtain, the center’s garden could be visualized. It expanded a few hundred yards until the treeline of the nearby forest began. In silence, she watched the water trickle from the stone fountain in the center. It had been turned off for the season, but the rain that had fallen earlier in the evening still clung to the piece, each drop falling in a slow rhythmic pattern. 

Y/n found it more soothing than what the fountain had looked like last summer when they had first toured the place. She assumed if she was laboring in spring or summer, walking the trails in the garden would be something she found herself doing, even late in the evening as it was currently. But that was a dream she had let go of as the temperature dropped. All she had now was the counting of each drop in between contractions. 

The instinct to hold her breath took over as the next contraction washed over her, the sharp inhale of breath alerting the dozing man next to her. Y/n closed her eyes and focused on taking deep breaths, trying to ground herself to the moment. Fingers pressed into her lower back, one on either side of her spine, applying counter-pressure to the contraction. 

“Harder,” her word was weak, even in the quiet room. The pressure increased instantly, helping her to focus back on breathing through the contraction. It felt like a lifetime later when the pain began to subside before eventually tapering off. The sheets shuffled in the dark behind her before she felt an arm wrap around her abdomen. 

“Where are you at?” Jensen’s voice broke into the room as he pulled her tight against his chest. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her gaze back on the fountain outside. “Trying to be anywhere but here.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“Birth our child?” she tried, unable to stop the smile from creeping up on her face. If there was one thing Y/n didn’t handle well, it was being in pain. She would put back up every wall that anyone had become successful in tearing down, choosing to stew in silence. It was a defense mechanism she had perfected long ago. Never let them see you sweat. Unfortunately, that also meant that she tended to get mean, keeping it all bottled up until she exploded like a shaken can of soda. She truly wished right then that she had a catheter in her back delivering the good meds to her lower body, but she had committed long ago to do this as naturally as possible, her comfort be damned. 

“As soon as they figure out how to do that, I’ve got you, babe,” Jensen chuckled behind her, close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck. She nodded in unfortunate understanding, her hand coming to rest atop her husband’s where it lay on her belly. 

“Actually, could you top off my water bottle?” Y/n spoke back up after a moment of content silence. 

“Of course. Ice?” He questioned, already climbing from the bed to grab her bottle on the nightstand near her. 

“Please,” she confirmed.

“Be back in a flash,” Jensen pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before leaving the room to get ice from the main kitchen in the birthing center. A sigh left her mouth as she pulled herself into a semi-sitting position on the bed and grabbed her phone from where it lay charging. There was a mix of messages in her notifications, all from friends and family with varying messages of encouragement. She appreciated the gesture but to be honest, what Y/n wanted more than anything was to not have all the attention on her. It was yet another symptom of being uncomfortable. Her solace lay in the simple fact that she was not expected to answer any of the messages she received, considering she was in labor and all. Forgetting why she even grabbed the device in the first place, Y/n noted the time and tossed it back on the nightstand. 

It was officially after midnight. Well, technically it was almost twelve-thirty which meant it was Jensen’s birthday. Y/n had found it funny when he had called his mother earlier to let her know that the baby was coming, Jensen had made his stupid joke only to have his face fall when Donna had laughed a little too hard. Her husband was caught up thinking about his mother and teasing the older woman that it didn’t even cross his brain what Y/n going to labor meant for him. Now, as she found herself nearly seven centimeters dilated as the clock turned into the new day, it seemed their baby would share its birthday with their father. 

Jensen came back then, breaking her out of her thoughts but unable to knock the warm smile from her face. He walked around to her side and perched on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked under him as he faced her. Y/n took a drink of the cool liquid, relishing in the calm it brought her. 

“What is that smile about?” He had an equally bright smile of his own, unable to contain it as he watched his wife. 

“Nothing just… happy birthday,” the pregnant woman shrugged in her seat, her eyes casting down to wear her hands now cradled her bump. 

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, his heart feeling so whole when he thought about it that it felt as though it might burst from his ribcage. There was so much love for the woman in front of him, he didn’t know what to do with it. It scared him sometimes. It didn’t matter what was happening at the moment, but he could look at her and he would forget for a second that the world existed outside them and all he knew was that she made everything okay. His heart would skip a beat so fast he barely noticed and the urge to cry became overwhelming. Only this time, he refused to fight it, allowing a few tears to well up in his eyes. 

“What’s this about?” Y/n sat up, concern now etched into her features as she brought herself close enough to her husband that she could wipe away the single tear that had escaped down his cheek with her thumb. She had caught sight of it, of course, even in the low light of the room. In the few silent seconds that he sat there smiling, she felt warm under his stoic gaze, unsure of what was going on in that head of his. Jensen shook his head, his smile still not faltering. 

“I love you,” he said simply. 

“I love you, too,” Y/n agreed, her concern melting away and taking with it the crease in her brow. Her husband cradled her face in his hands, pulling her face up to press his lips to hers. He poured every emotion that was currently making him dizzy into that kiss, afraid that if he didn’t, she would never know. But she did know, and though Y/n didn’t need more than those three words, she couldn’t deny him the release he so evidently needed. The desperation seeped from his every pore as his lips brushed against hers, unwilling to part until the need for air overtook everything else. 

A gentle knock on the door snapped his brain back down to Earth. Jensen released his hold on her face, watching as it took her a second longer to open her eyes once they parted. He cleared his throat before calling out.

“Come in.”

Their midwife, Melek, snuck into the room, not making a sound as she closed the door behind her. She turned the lights up just a touch, giving the couple a warning beforehand. 

“Hey, I’m just back to check your progress,” she snatched a pair of gloves from their place in one of the drawers and came to the side of the bed Jensen was still perched on. He moved out of her way as Y/n scooted down the bed slightly. Melek asked Y/n how she was feeling as she went about her work. The midwife listened and nodded along to everything she explained. 

“Well, we are getting very close. Based on how you’ve progressed so far, this baby could be here in the next couple of hours. You are going to start feeling the urge to push soon, might feel like you have to poop, don’t ignore that or any other changes you notice.” Melek stood from the bed and tossed her gloves before washing her hands. She made a note on the whiteboard in the room before coming back over to the couple. 

“You are welcome to continue relaxing, whatever feels best. However, if you feel up to it, I would suggest taking a walk in the garden. I know it’s cold and late, but it will help to energize you before the big work starts.”

“Thank you. Is that safe?” Y/n was adjusting her nightgown back into place as she talked. 

“Yes, if you choose to take a walk, I would go now. No longer than twenty minutes outside and I will be back in another hour,” Their midwife confirmed. The couple nodded in acknowledgment of her words, offering her more words of ‘thanks’ as she exited the suite. 

“Well, what do you think, momma?” Jensen put his hands on his hips as he looked down at her. 

“Couldn’t hurt,” Y/n shrugged. She offered him an innocent smile. “Help me put on my shoes?” 

“Deal.”

****

A low groan emanated from her chest as she battled through her current contraction. Her hands were locked around Jensen’s neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. The actor was rocking her back and forth, once again applying counterpressure to her lower back.

“Oh god, I feel nauseous,” Y/n breathed out as the contraction subsided. She let up on the weight she had been putting on her husband.

“That’s normal though, right?”

“Yeah, I was just venting,” she let the air out of her lungs rush past her lips. “I don’t expect you to do anything about it.” Her words were clipped as they tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. The laboring woman cringed as she felt her husband stiffen underneath her. The soda had popped. Her movements were hesitant as she raised her head to look at him, regret written across her face. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay, you are allowed to do whatever you want to me today.” The smile that graced his lips was tight, but she suspected it was more from the exhaustion than anything. She could see the heaviness in his eyes. 

“No, it’s not. Come on, yell at me. Tell me you don’t need that shit because you were just trying to be helpful,” she pleaded with him, the guilt heavy in her chest. 

“You want me to pick a fight with you while you are in labor?” Amusement was heavy in his words. 

“Yeah, please? I deserve it. You are being far too nice to me.”

“It’s not happening. Sorry, babe.” Y/n growled in frustration, causing her husband to throw his head back and laugh. 

The sound of yet another knock had her releasing her grip on her husband as she called the midwife in. It was time for the hourly check of her labor progression, a task that Y/n had grown a distinct distaste for. As the hours came and went and it felt like nothing was happening, it all just felt pointless. At this point, she was begging this kid to come out. 

Melek made quick work of the check, a smile on her face after when she pulled off her gloves. “Seems as though it’s time, momma. You are fully dilated. How are you feeling?” 

“Uh,” Y/n shared a look with her husband as their midwife headed over to the tub on the opposite side of the room and started the water. She gave a quick synopsis of what had happened in the last hour before asking, “Are we pushing now?” 

“We can start. Sounds like you’ve already had some urges to. Right now it’s about listening to your body and what it’s telling you. I’m going to grab the nurse while you get in the water.” Melek left the water running and the couple dumbstruck. 

“Okay, I guess this is happening,” Y/n scoffed, allowing her husband to help her from the bed. He stripped down to his boxer briefs while she slipped off the gown she was wearing, leaving her as naked as the day she was born. Jensen helped her into the tub and down to sit between his legs. As the water reached its max level, he stopped the tap and urged her to sit back against his chest. 

True to her word, Melek was back in no time with a nurse and everything else they would need. They flourished around the room, getting ready as yet another contraction hit. Y/n’s grip on her husband tightened, her mind focused on one thing now. Jensen was whispering in her ear, helping to guide her breaths. Y/n gave in to the urge to push, more than ready now to have this over with. The pattern was quick and repeated itself again, and then again, and again. 

The time clicked away on the clock on the far wall, each passing minute mocking the laboring woman as it turned over the hour. If she had thought she was exhausted before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now. Sweat dripped from her forehead, small tendrils of hair that had fallen from the bun on top of her head stuck to her flushed skin. She dropped her head onto her husband’s shoulder, soft pants passing her lips as she tried to relax before the next contraction hit. 

Only it didn’t take long, the pain returning before she even had time to think. The contraction had her doubling in on herself, concentrating on bearing down. Her scream originated low in her chest, the sound of it low as it echoed out in the room. Y/n knew that Melek was coaching her, but she couldn’t hear the words anymore, her body too far spent. 

“I can’t,” As the contraction dissipated, she threw her head back and hid her face in the crook of Jensen’s neck. 

“You can, Y/n. Your body was made to do this,” Melek encouraged, a hand on the poor woman’s shoulder. Y/n swatted it away as she let out another sob. 

“No, I can’t. I’m too tired,” her shoulders shook as she let it all out. Jensen turned and placed a kiss on her temple. 

“Honey, if anyone can do this it’s you,” he whispered in her ear. “I know you’re tired and that means you are ready to quit, but you can’t, not yet. Just think about holding our baby in your arms, you are so close.” 

Another sob shook through her as she indicated her disagreement with his words. She wanted to believe him, she wanted to believe him so badly it hurt but Y/n had never felt so defeated in her life. This was finally it and she couldn’t do it. 

“Look at me, Y/n.” He waited for her eyes to open and focus on him. “You can and you will. I’m right here, I’ve got you. You are gonna push this baby out and we are gonna love it so much all this will be a distant memory. Nothing else will matter but the life we created.” 

“You drive a hard bargain,” she hiccuped out with a laugh. Jensen chuckled along with her, offering another kiss to her temple. They nodded at each other, silent words being passed between them just before the next contraction hit. This time she put all her energy behind it, refusing now to be defeated. It was far from easy, but only she could do it now. 

She couldn’t be sure how many contractions later it happened, the only thing she was sure of was the instant relief that washed over her body. Her eyes snapped open as Melek pulled her gook covered baby from the warm water of the tub, holding up its long body so both her and Jensen could see. 

“It’s a boy!” Melek announced, placing the infant against Y/n’s bare chest. It all happened in a second and Y/n was holding her son in her arms. Jensen was peppering her face with kisses and muttering soft praises, his arms wrapped around her and helping the nurse wipe the baby clean. More sobs racked her body as soft cries came from the tiny body in her arms. Everything felt like too much like her whole being was vibrating on some new frequency she didn’t yet understand. It was invigorating and terrifying at the same time. 

“I told you!” Y/n turned to look at her husband, the sobs that had been shaking through her now intermixed with soft laughter.

“Yeah, you did, babe. I’ll promise to never question you again,” the smile on his face grew as soon as he realized what she was talking about. The giggles coming from his wife seemed to seep into him and soon he was laughing along with her. 

Y/n feigned a scoff, chuckles still seeping past her lips and a beautiful smile on her lips. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ackles.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

****

It took a while before anyone was able to pry her son from her arms and even then, she refused to give up to anyone besides Jensen. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the nurse or midwife, she just felt that if she gave him up, the feeling in her chest would go with him. Only the soft voice of her husband was able to coax her out of the bubble she had wrapped herself into. Reluctantly, she handed the infant off to her husband who passed him on to be weighed and measured. 

The nurse was then able to help her out of the tub and into the shower, washing away the remnants of her son’s birth from her body. In that short amount of time, she ached to hold her son again. Her mind couldn’t focus on anything besides him, and it pissed her off. She didn’t feel in control of herself, consumed by the maternal instincts now flooding her neurons. 

When she emerged from the bathroom, Jensen was propped up against the headboard, his legs casually crossed at the ankle in front of him. Discarded still at the foot of the bed was his shirt he had peeled away before they had gotten into the tub, but he had slipped his Nike joggers back on his tall frame. His large hands dwarfed their son, who was only in a diaper, where Jensen held him against his chest. The couple shared a smile before she made her way over to him, climbing gingerly into the bed next to her husband and son. Y/n curled herself into his side as the nurse left them to be alone. 

“Nine pounds and seven ounces, twenty-one inches long,” Jensen smirked down at the sleeping infant. Y/n choked out a breath, her jaw dropping open in the process. 

“Jesus, I’m never gonna be the same,” she blew out a breath. The tired woman laid her head against her husband’s shoulder, her eyes never leaving her sleeping child. She could feel her husband shaking softly with laughter. Mostly, she was just as amused as him, but on the other hand, she wasn’t kidding. 

As she settled into her spot, their son began to stir, his face scrunching into a frown. Jensen moved quickly, pulling the kid away and offering him to his mother. 

“What, the first time he even indicates he might cry and you immediately hand him over to me?” Y/n leans away from her husband, a confused frown etched into her features. 

“Uh, yeah, I don’t have the goods,” the Texan flicked his eyes down at her chest before looking back at her face. He had one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. 

“Okay, how do you even know he’s hungry? Maybe he needs to be changed?” 

“He’s fresh out of the womb and hasn’t eaten anything, you do the math,” Jensen held him out again. Y/n rolled her eyes for effect when the truth was she couldn’t wait to get her hands on that baby again. 

“Well go get the midwife, I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Y/n tilted her head towards the door. She had one hand cradling the infant and her other was working to pull her gown away from her chest. 

“Right,” he bounded from the bed, grabbing his shirt as he went and pulling it over his head. The door barely had time to shut behind him before he was returning, Melek in tow. The midwife was more than helpful, guiding Y/n and her baby through their first feeding. It took them a few tries before it seemed like they finally got the hang of it. Melek left them again to the peace of the early morning. 

The sun had yet to breach the horizon but that didn’t stop the birds from putting on a show outside. Jensen had climbed back into bed with his family, situating himself as close as possible to his wife. It gave him the best vantage to watch the miracle they had created. He rested his hand on the baby’s head, rubbing his thumb across the infant’s hair. 

Y/n didn’t even bother averting her gaze as her husband nestled into her side. She was far too transfixed on her son. Every emotion felt magnified a thousand times since she gave birth, to the point where she felt like she might burst. It was hard to sort through them, the exhaustion of her body not helping at all. Now, as she stared down at the precious life she and Jensen had created, the only thing she felt was calm. His eyes were closed as he fed, the soft gurgles and breaths he let out the only noise in the suite. 

“He’s perfect,” she mumbled to no one in particular, she just felt it needed to be said. 

“He really is,” Jensen agreed. “I had no doubt, which is why I got you this.” Y/n tore her eyes away then as Jensen procured a long velvet case from behind him. He offered the object to Y/n who took it with her free hand. 

“What is this? It’s your birthday today, not mine,” she tried arguing.

“Just open it, you dork. Besides, you’ve already given me the best gift I could ever have,” Jensen urged her to open it. His eagerness washed off him as he smiled at her, his hand back on his son’s head. 

Being careful to not jostle the child eating in her arms, Y/n used both hands to flip open the case. Laying against a dark cushion inside was a gold bracelet with a row of seven round stones in the center. She caught the card that was placed inside when it tried to fall away, reading the small paragraph. 

‘Customised with seven beautifully crafted semi-precious stones amidst a string of shimmering beads. Each stone is traditionally associated with various characteristics that also typify those born in that particular month – The March birthstone is Aquamarine, which has a pale blue appearance and symbolizes honesty, loyalty, and happiness.’

The tears fell from her eyes as she read, threatening to turn into full-blown sobs. Y/n sniffed as her emotions continued to get the better of her, using the end of the blanket to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. Happiness. There wasn’t anything she could think of better to describe how she was feeling. It was indescribable happiness that had begun on that New Year’s Eve two years ago and continues through the life she now held in her arms. It was happiness she feared she would never get to experience, and yet, here she was. 

“Jay, this is beautiful. But how-”

“I ordered one for February too, can’t be too careful,” he answered before she could ask, earning a giggle from his wife. “You really like it?” 

“Honey, I love it. I can’t imagine a more perfect gift.”

“Here,” Jensen pushed away from the headboard and offered his hand to take the case from her. She handed it back to him, allowing him to take the delicate bracelet from its setting. He urged her to raise her arm, making quick work of clasping the piece of jewelry around her right wrist. “There, perfect.”

“Perfect,” she agreed. 

****

The midwife cleared Y/n and the baby to go home just before noon that day. They had spent less than twenty-four hours in the birthing center, but as she dressed her son to go home she couldn’t help but feel like she was going to miss it. That stupid little room now held so much meaning to her, and she hated it. The exhaustion and hormones were making her stupidly sentimental. 

As they turned into their driveway, Jensen was forced to pull their SUV into the yard since the entirety of their driveway was filled with cars. He hopped out of the driver’s seat to help Y/n from the car before grabbing the car seat with their son inside. Her husband allowed her to waddle along in front of him, a smirk on his lips when she looked over her shoulder before opening the gate to their home. 

Across the stone courtyard, she could see their family all huddled in front of the expansive window that saw into their living room. Everyone waved excitedly as the new family made their way towards the house. Y/n took in the faces of her and Jensen’s parents, along with her brothers and their families. Jensen’s siblings were too far out to make it right now, but even still Y/n was surprised to see her brothers. Donna and Alan had come down as soon as they called to let them know Y/n was in labor, staying in their guestroom for the coming week to help the new parents adjust. She expected her parents too, even though they couldn’t stay longer than the night, rooming in Jared’s guesthouse and leaving in the morning. But yeah, her brothers were a surprise. 

The family was greeted and the door, an array of excited faces welcoming them home. Someone had hung a ‘congratulations’ banner, with a matching ‘happy birthday’ one just below it. Everyone wrapped the new mother up in a tight embrace before passing her along to the next family member while the kids swarmed Jensen and the baby. It took quite some convincing from the parents to quiet down the little ones, all excited to meet their new cousin and forgetting that they needed to chill out as he was sleeping currently. 

“Alright,” Jared’s voice broke above the commotion of multiple conversations. “As the godfather and the whole reason this child even exists, I call dibs on holding him first!” He looked to his sister, his brows high on his forehead as he waited for her answer. 

“You all are going to get a turn, I don’t care who goes first. But stop saying you are the reason he exists, it’s weird… ” She waved him on before adding, “and don’t forget the sanitizer.”

Jensen lifted the car seat to the island as Jared bounced over to him. He literally was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his sister rolling her eyes as she followed behind him. The giant of a man moved delicately as he pulled the sleeping infant from the car seat. If she had thought her son looked small in her husband’s arms, it had nothing on how he looked compared to Jared. He took the newborn over to sit on the couch, all the cousin’s swarming him in no time. 

“You need anything?” Jensen put his hand on her lower back to bring her attention from their family to him. 

“A water?” She suggested as she looked over to him, knowing she would need it sooner rather than later. He nodded and turned to grab a water bottle for her. A soft ‘oh’ had her turning her head back towards her husband. Jensen stepped out of the way to show her their freezer full of Tupperware of different foods. 

“We all made a few things for the freezer. I know Donna is staying with you for a little while, but once she is gone, you’ll thank me,” Y/n’s mother appeared next to her. 

“Thanks, mom,” Once again she found herself fighting back the tears as she pulled her mother into a tight embrace. Sharon ran her hands up and down her daughter’s back as the younger woman refused to let go. Half of it was not wanting to let go, the other half was hiding her tears in the black sweater her mother wore. When she finally relented, Jensen was standing there with a tissue. He offered it to his wife who took it with a sheepish smile before he also hugged his mother-in-law. 

The group in the kitchen returned to the living room where the rest of the family was, fussing over the baby. Jensen sat down in his chair near the fireplace that was angled to where the rest of the family was on or near the couch. He grabbed his wife’s wrist and pulled down along with him, situating her into his lap. The new mother fidgeted in her seat, struggling to get comfortable. 

“Would you stop that?” Jensen’s voice was low in her ear as he squeezed her legs in a vain attempt to hold her still. 

“I-,” She shifted again with a soft sigh before turning to whisper in his ear. “I’m very sore down there, and your legs are not the most comfortable right now.” His lips formed a thin line as he nodded. Before she could say anything else, he lifted and moved them both so she was situated in between him and the side of the chair, effectively taking the pressure off of her sensitive area. 

“Better?” 

“God yes,” she huffed before snuggling into his side. The couple watched content as their family traded their son around. The looks of amazement from the kids and the near tears from the adults filled her heart more than she imagined it could have ever been before. Just when she thought it was full, it somehow found room for more love and happiness. 

“So, have you two decided on a name yet?” Sharon spoke up as he was passed to her. The older woman was gently bouncing on her feet, her husband peering over her shoulder. 

The new parents shared a look, unsure which of them should answer the question to the information they had filled out in his birth certificate just before leaving for home. Everyone had been asking since they got the news he was officially here, though the couple didn’t have an answer as they struggled to come up with something. Jensen tilted his head to her, signaling that she should answer. 

“Yes, after an agonizing two hours of staring at him and willing him to tell us what his name should be, we finally picked one,” Y/n explained, her husband chuckling next to her at the memory of her talking to him as he slept. “His name is Ezra Jay Ackles.” 

There were murmured compliments and agreements that the name more than fit the little bundle of joy they had just welcomed into their family. Sharon passed Ezra on to his other grandmother, the woman giddy as she took over baby holding duty. Ezra had woken up by now, his dark eyes searching and unsure of the commotion around him, but he had yet to fuss. 

“Did you go with Jay because he looks just like Jensen?” she questioned, not taking her eyes off the infant in her arms. 

“Ugh don’t remind me,” Y/n huffed, her face scrunched up at her mother-in-law’s words. 

“Hey, I thought you liked the way I looked,” Jensen pouted next to her, but she could see the twinkle in his eye. 

“That’s not the point. It would be just my luck that I carried him for nine months, was in labor for over eighteen hours while also needing to feed him every two hours, for him to look just like his dad. Where’s the justice in that?” Y/n frowned as her family laughed at her confession. 

“Welcome to my world,” Gen piped up. “All of them, little clones of their dad.” The Padalecki women all nodded in agreement to that sentiment, much to the annoyance of their husbands. 

“Hey, the Padalecki genes are strong, we can’t help it,” Jared protested, making Jensen throw his head back in laughter. 

“If that’s true then I guess the Ackles genes are even stronger,” the new father countered, earning a shove from his wife. 

“Alright you two, put the rulers away,” her joke got the rest of the room cackling at the boys’ expense. That satisfied the woman more than she would ever admit. 

Not long after the reveal of their baby’s name, the family began to pack things up and head out. It had been a busy and tiring twenty-four hours for the new little family, and their loved ones headed out to give them some peace. Once everyone was gone, Alan offered to go to the store and grab something to whip up for dinner, leaving just Donna with the new parents. 

“Y/n, honey, why don’t you go lay down. I know you haven’t really slept since yesterday,” Donna piped up, noting how the woman’s eyes were getting heavy. She was curled up on the couch next to her husband who was holding their son once again. Donna was picking up the mess left by the family. 

“Mmm that sounds good but he will have to feed soon, I should just stay here,” Y/n answered with a hum. She couldn’t deny, a nap sounded wonderful but everything was about Ezra and his needs now. 

“Couldn’t we just give him a bottle?” Jensen asked, earning a shake of the head from both of the women in the room. 

“No, if you guys are committed to breastfeeding, she’s got to get her milk supply in and the best way to do that is for him to feed. Also, there is nipple confusion,” Donna stated matter of fact with Y/n nodding along the whole time. 

“Nipple confusion?” Jensen looked to his wife, confusion written all over his face. The term sounded familiar to the actor, but he couldn’t for the life of him come up with a definition. 

“It means that Ezra could get confused between the bottle and the breast, and the concern is that he would prefer the bottle,” Y/n explained, her hand absentmindedly running along her son’s cheek.

Jensen nodded in understanding and shrugged, “Not if he’s my son.” 

The new mother reared back in confusion. “Why?” was the only thing Y/n could say after she and Donna looked at him with equal disgust and disappointment. Jensen grimaced under their looks before she continued. “Your mother is in the room.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Mom, I don’t know why I said it,” the look of shame on his face morphed into fear as he prepared for a scolding, but that moment never came. Instead, Donna stood and walked over to where they were seated. 

“Alright, give me the kid,” the older Mrs. Ackles reached out for her grandson. Jensen gave him up without question. “Both of you need to sleep. Don’t worry, I will come and get you if he gets hungry.” 

“It’s best not to argue with her when she makes that face,” Jensen muttered under his breath, but not so quiet that his mother didn’t hear him. She raised her brow at him, an action that was remarkably similar to the one Jensen often emulated. 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Y/n agreed, allowing her husband to help her to her feet. Jensen gave his mom a quick peck on the cheek in passing as he pulled his wife along with him to their bedroom. 

Inside the curtains were still drawn from when they had left yesterday, only a small sliver of light peeking into the room from its edges. Neither of them bothered with changing, knowing it was too much work for now. Instead, Jensen just turned down the bed, allowing them to slip under the cool covers. He settled into the pillows, lifting his arm to invite her back to his side. Of course, she obliged, snuggling into his chest with one hand placed where she could feel the steady beat of his heart under her fingertips. 

Jensen wrapped his arm around her, his hand resting against her arm, rubbing soft circles against her skin. He stared up at the ceiling in the semi-dark room, watching the spinning blades of their ceiling fan make countless revolutions. His mind was racing, all the emotions of the last day starting to get to him now that he had nothing else to focus on. 

Y/n was silent as well, but he knew she hadn’t fallen asleep yet, her body still too tense to have fully succumbed to the exhaustion. If he wanted to ever get some shut-eye, he knew he had to get some things off his chest. He needed to let go. 

“You know what this reminds me of?” There was a gruff undertone to his voice, yet it still managed to be soft as he sought to not startle his wife. She hummed in response, letting him know she was listening. “Our first night together. Well, after… everything.” 

“How so?” Y/n shifted so she could have a better view of her husband who now had her full attention. 

“I couldn’t sleep then either. Too much going on in my head,” Jensen took a deep breath, his eyes still on the ceiling as he continued. “I kind of have this tendency to push all my emotions to the side to deal with them another time, even if that other time never comes, but that night, I just… I couldn’t get myself to do it. As I stared down at you, sleeping against my chest with that stupid little content smile on your face, I realized that you were worth all of it, every emotion: the fear, the anxiety, and even the guilt; they were all worth feeling for you.”

The crease in her brow deepened as her husband confessed to her what he went through that night. Jensen looked down at her then, a smile on his face and tears once again pooling in his eyes. He brought up his hand to caress her cheek before continuing. 

“I never believed in love at first sight, hell, I still don’t, because even through all of that fear and anxiety what I felt most of all was love, and that didn’t happen overnight. It happened in the weeks we had spent in the makeup trailer, in the way you trusted me with the things you wouldn’t even tell your brother, and in your sarcastic comebacks that never failed to surprise me. I spent weeks falling in love with you and didn’t even realize it.”

“The only thing I could do was watch you sleep, so irrevocably in love with you that I was scared if I pushed away those bad feelings… if I didn’t consider every possible thing that could wrong from that moment on, that I would lose the best thing in my life now, so that’s what I did, just watched you sleep and go over every possible scenario my mind could come up with of how us being together could go wrong. I know...” He had to stop again, needing a moment to take a shuddering breath. “I know that day when I told you we needed a break hurt you and made you question everything I ever said to you and sure we’re past it now, but I really need you to know that when I came to you that next morning and asked you to go on one date with me, I didn’t make that decision lightly. I had decided before you even tried to sneak out of the guesthouse that you were worth everything.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” After he was silent for a moment, she couldn’t bear it any longer. 

“Because I… I feel so much right now that I can’t shut it out. The love I feel for you and our son right now, I want to stay in that feeling forever. Even if it means facing every fear or anxiety over making sure you both are safe and happy and thriving. I just had to let you know that you two are my whole world now and I will spend the rest of my life never letting you forget it,” Jensen confessed, allowing the tears that he had been biting back now flow freely. Deep down he knew it was what he needed, that release of every emotion before he could truly relax. Just like she also knew that the time for words was over.

“Thank you for telling me that,” she nuzzled back into his side, pressing her cheek against his chest to listen to his heart again. Y/n knew it wasn’t easy for her husband to admit all of that to her. Those true moments where he exposed himself fully to her were rare. Not that she minded, Y/n didn’t need him to cut out his heart and serve it on a silver platter. Her husband was a man of action. He showed her all she needed to know in every first cup of coffee he brings her in the mornings or running her a bath when she needs time alone. Marriage is as much about the little things as it is about any grand declaration. If you asked Y/n, she would take the soft smiles and lingering touches over a grand speech any day, but this was nice too. 

Part 12: Home

Forevers: @22sarah08​ @akshi8278​ @anathewierdo​ @atc74​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @briagallen​ @callmekda​ @dawnie1988​ @deandreamernp​ @deanwanddamons​ @ellewritesfix05​ @emoryhemsworth​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @janicho88​ @jensengirl83​ @katehuntington​ @lyarr24​ @malfoysqueen14​ @miss-nerd95​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @polina-93​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @suckmyapplejacks​ @superfanficnatural​ @supraveng​ @talesmaniac89​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @waywardbeanie​ @winchest09​

Happiness Continues: @afangirlreacts​ @anaelsbrunette​ @ashleyrose0117 @austin-winchester67​ @cno92​ @deanbowlegsackles​ @deangirl93​ @deans-baby-momma​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @dvnmbabe​ @fangirl199813 @spndestiellover​ @hoboal87​ @itsdesiree86​ @jbsgirl4eber11 @let-me-luve-you​ @linki-locks11​ @lunarmoon8​ @neverland14353​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @parinarain​ @rebeccathefangirl​ @rebelemilu​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @spnfamily-j2​ @squirrelnotsam​ @stoneyggirl​ @supernatural3002​ @traceyaudette​ @winchestergirl82​ @winqhster​ @zpandaqueen​

[jangosweat]

Surprise (Part One)

Pairing: younger Boba Fett x female reader Summary: Boba is on a mission, you happen to have more than just some information for him. Length: don't @ me ok this got away from me pretty quickly, the gc chose violence the other day and my brain ran the fuck away with it so... LONG. Warnings: NSFW, Boba smokes in this ok (smoking is bad ofc), strong language, explicit content, alcohol consumption, virgin!Boba, eventual p in v Tagging these bucket fuckers: @batfamily14 @kavecika @aurea-corde @beskarprincessjenny @ahoeformando @onabouteverything @rosethornsxx @latenightsthoughtsnstuff @deewithani @hobbitlover23 @thisgirl-knm @adonishxney @vegethiagoddess @the-siren-writes-it @tibbietibbs @meabravo @kenob1 @theifofstars @metchachotto @blissful--moon @mysticalgalaxysalad

ENJOY!!!

It was a shame really, having flown out all this way with a strong signal until the night Boba Fett had landed his ship down on this bustling planet, after a month of hunting and beating the information out of humans and a few droids he needed for his latest quarry he had come up short.

He hated being let down, he was on a roll with capturing quarry after quarry, bringing them to their knees with a swift prowess only he seemed to encapsulate. His father's genes he would think thoughtfully as he laid in bed. The cuts and bruises would soon fade, adding to his track record as being one of the up and coming best bounty hunter in the parsec. He was making a name for himself, preening when he'd enter some dive bar or cantina, all eyes on him and rumor had it that if you saw his painted beskar, someone was in big kriffing trouble.

A pompous man only known to the hunter by the name of Tarrik was all he knew and that the client he was hired by wanted his payment. Now.

Boba tapped on his holopad, filling in his planner of sorts, archiving his triumphs as he sat wide legged at the edge of his bed aboard Slave I. He bit his lip, opening a new tab on the blueish screen, setting his sights on a map of the city. He used his fingers to expand the map, reaching absently at the table next to him to retrieve a lit cigarette of sorts. The shredded tobacco type substance was sweet and fragrant, coils of smoking spiraled around his fingers before he took a drag and kept on with his search.

He was on the right planet, nearby to where this theif was either hiding deftly among the people and aliens just outside from the landing areas restricted section or he was one step ahead of Fett and that thought alone made his eyebrows crease together. That was his job, to be on the Frontline, to outsmart his naïve prey. He sighed and kept the map page open, looking from a top view of what looked to be a little shopping center, a jewelry store with the name Tarrik's Trinkets lit up neon on the screen.

....

"Did you take inventory yet?"

"I'm on it right now!" You called back to one of your coworkers, she was on her way out to lunch, leaving you in charge of the jewelry store for the next hour. Your boss Tarrik had left a rather cryptic note of explanation that he had a family emergency and you and Juni were to be in charge of keeping to store up and running for the next few days.

She shrugged on a jacket, careful not to snag the flow of her long head-tails before leaving, telling you she'd bring you back something sweet.

The low chime of the store from the door opened and closed as you grabbed the holopad and set to work.

Only a few moments passed when you heard the chimes again, crouched underneath a display case you sing songed out. "Back so soon?"

You were met with silence.

That's odd you thought, you know you heard the door open...

"Juni?"

More silence.

When you finally stood to your full height you didn't see a soul in the store, you set the holopad down on the glass counter and rounded about the side. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon."

You jumped at the voice that answered you, that was definitely not Juni. You turned around to find a tall man, covered literally head to toe in some sort of hard armor and gloves, not a lick of his skin was presented to you, a T visor looked down at you. 

Stealthy son of a bitch you thought as you relaxed a little.

"Oh! Good afternoon sir." You smoothed your hands at your sides, curious as to who he might be. You've seen and met quite a few strangers, of all sorts but none as mysterious as the man before you. He tilted his helmet in acknowledgement and rested his gloved hands at his waist, fingers displaying on a utility belt.

"Nice place you've got here." His voice was covered with a thick modulator, you could hear the nice smooth tone of it even through the slight crackles.

"Thank you, we pride ourselves on serving the best and making the best. Even the gentry have been known to visit from time time, by their aides and associates of course. Is there something in particular you're looking for sir?" You asked.

The helmeted man looked around the empty store then back to you after a moment. "Is the owner perhaps around?"

"Not today. But I can be of any assistance you might need."

The man hummed and tapped his belt, strong and quiet as he peered around again as if casing the joint and that set you on edge, tiny hairs on the back of your neck prickled and you moved back behind the display case you were just working on.

"Do you do customized pieces?" The man asked, turning on his heel to see where you had scurried off to.

"Of course we do! Do you have something in mind?"

The man pondered and leaned against the top of the case, a sweet smell wafted into your nose as he looked down at some of the pieces laid out on a fine Vermillion felt. "What might you suggest?"

"Is it for you or a someone special? A partner perhaps? A special occasion maybe..."

"I'm not a married man if that's what you're asking. Jewelry doesn't fit in with my armor. Someone special I suppose."

"Alrighty, how special are we talking?" You asked using one of your hands to showcase what you had at this case. "We have earrings, these are a popular buy or if want something more flashy we have bracelets and necklaces over there."

"A necklace will do I think."

"Excellent! Why don't you follow me over here then," you waved him over and he followed slowly after you, stopping to look at how nicely you had placed the varying lengths and sizes of adornments. "What kind would you like? Have you seen them in something familiar in style or coloring? A gemstone or two maybe..."

"What would you like?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. What would you like to receive as a gift?"

Oh.

No one had ever asked you for your personal opinion on the matter, not in that way at least. You had modeled a few items for your customers, if you were a similar size neck or wrist for the client but never had someone asked what you would prefer to wear.

No one had bought you jewelry before so the question had you stunned for a moment to think.

"Well... I don't like gaudy items, I'm more of a dainty subtle kinda' girl. If it were me, I'd go with a lariat style. It's just enough to catch someone's eye and when the sun hits it just it right, you know it's something special."

"Hmm can you show me? Might be interested in something like that." The man was sold you could tell, you were top in sales last month after all.

You smiled and bent down and brought out the style you were talking about, proudly showing off the necklace. "What do you think?"

The man hummed and touched the slinky necklace, as if he could feel the smoothness through those thick gloves. "Classy. You said I could add an gemstone no?"

"Absolutely sir, whatever modification you'd like we can do. It will cost extra of course." You explained and the man chuckled through his modulator.

"Of course. Money is of no expense to me smart girl. Three emeralds will do I think."

Emeralds? Three emeralds no less! This man had expensive taste and could afford it.

"Placement? They would like very royal spaced out like this," the man nodded once in agreement once you showed him your idea. "How about length?"

His T visor rose slowly from the necklace, taking his time to look at you as if you could see his face underneath. "Their about your size I suppose."

"For my neck I'd prefer a sixteen inch in length."

"Let's do it then."

That was easy, you smiled and made a quick sketch on a spare holopad nearby, a glimpse of what his custom piece would look like and cost. He agreed to the amount and gave his signature on the pad.

All it said was Mando when you took it back.

"As I'm sure you're aware sir, Emeralds can take some time to set, about a week or so, is that ok?"

"Absolutely." The man breathed and took out a strange looking square of steel, placing it in your hand before he took a step back and took his leave.

The chimes of the door sang again as he left, leaving you with his personal comm link number on the back of what looked like an imperial credit business card. But no name was present.

....

Boba thought of you while he took off his armor for the night, snagging a few bags of food from a very skittish man and woman at a food stall on his way back from the shopping market.

You had called him Sir, either out of sheer politeness or intimidation. Not that he was taught to call attention to himself or his armor or profession, like his father had instilled in him as a boy, but it alarmed him. Took him down a notch. He was just a man to you, clad in his father's beskar. He wasn't scary to you and that humbled him, where his name proceeded him nowadays, being unrecognizable was in a way a touch of honey to the battered man.

You didn't know his name like so many others had. Didn't cower in fear that he was possibly after you. No, he was after your boss. He didn't want to scare you, he was after one man not an army and certainly not a shopkeeper like yourself.

He had hoped you would call him the next day, give him details about the necklace that he bought on a whim with no real flesh and blood person to give it to. It was a means to an end, get in good with you, nonchalant and easy in order to find out the whereabouts of Tarrik.

It was only one meeting with you but as he sat in just his underclothes, untying the bag of steaming food, he couldn't help but feel a little off about using you. Strange as that may seem.

You didn't call the next day or the next after that, four days later he wondered if he should stop by the shop again just to see. Scope it out even though the puck he toyed with wasn't blinking.

He lit one of his cigarettes while he cleaned his armor, leaning his hip against one his many weaponry crates that made their home in the hull of his ship. He let it dangle from his lip before maneuvering it between his front teeth as he cleaned his helmet. The unsuspecting call from his comm link took him out of his routine, he popped the piece next to his chest plate into his ear.

"Hello?"

"Mando?" You sounded unsure of yourself, Boba narrowed his eyebrows as to why until he realized his helmet was in his hands, not placed on his head.

"Speaking. Everything going alright?" It never occurred to him that he had given you a name to call him but he didn't catch yours, too preoccupied with his song and dance of trying to sus out information and how you smiled at him. Not knowing the predator he truly was.

"Yeah yeah everything is fine with your piece it's just you forgot to put in your credit information. I was looking it over and-"

"When should I come in?" Boba stabbed out his cigarette.

"Oh uh whenever you're free would be great, were open until nine tonight if that works out for you?" You sounded excited and nervous which made him feel the same.

"I'll see you soon then."

You fumbled through some goodbye by the sound of it, Boba smiled and got dressed.

....

Tarrik's Trinkets seemed to be in a rush, there were people picking up some of their cleaned items and some were being helped, you were behind the register handing off a bag to a very excited young Twi’lek couple, they even kissed in front of everyone. An engagement Boba thought to himself, smiling under his helmet. As he made his way through the busy little store the engaged couple made eyes with him, wide ones as they hurried past, even as he had gave them a pleasant nod of his helm. 

The people outside in the shopping center had done the same when they had seen him strolling through the street.

None the wiser were you to his presence, another girl was asking you a question before returning to her own set of waiting customers.

He didn't know why all of a sudden a strange pang in his gut hit him then, she was close to you, her face next to your ear her hand on your elbow as you turned and answered her.

Boba Fett waited for the crowd to die down, patiently waiting towards the back wall full of portraits  of clients showing off the jewelry that was made here.

But once the rush was over he watched you close up the drawer and hang your head with a bit of exhaustion, your hands on the tabletop before he took his turn and made his way over to you.

"Busy night huh?"

You sprang up at the distinct tone of his modulated tone, eyes wide with Sprite but with a smile. "Mando! You’ve gotta’ stop sneaking up on me."

"I told you I was coming."

"Yeah but I didn't think so soon!" Your smile made him smile, you took out a holopad from underneath the glass, scrolling through until you found his name and lack of information. You handed it over to him.

"You said you closed at nine, wanted to get here before you closed." Boba answered while tapping in his numbers.

"Were still open for another hour, Mando." You countered, a flirty smile on your face as he handed the pad back to you.

"Had to be sure you didn't forget about me."

"How could I forget?"

So this was happening.

Usually when Boba flirted it was for information, nothing more than that and in a way it was exactly that but something more, some lingering feeling that felt natural when he spoke to you. 

The women he did flirt with always wanted something from, dank farrik everyone wanted something from him. To hire him to use him to dispose of him when they were through, he didn't let it bother him too much to waste sleepless nights on it but sometimes it hurt. Just a little bit. 

You were genuine about it though as he studied your face.

"So what is there to do around here? I haven't been on this side of the planet in a long time." He wanted to keep you talking, to hear your voice.

"Well that depends, what do you like to do? I doubt hiking with all that armor on." You pointed.

Boba chuckled, smiling at the fact he'd just left the dessert before landing here a few days ago. "Not exactly. What do you like to do?"

"Well I like art so I go to the museums a lot. There's quite a few bars and cantinas around too. A bunch of stuff really." You shrugged.

Boba hummed along and took a chance. "Do you go out for drinks a lot?"

"Sometimes I'll go out with Juni after work."

"Juni?"

"Oh! My coworker, she's around here somewhere." You looked around the store but didn't see her, neither did Boba and he was grateful for the one on one conversation.

"Ah ha. You know you never did tell me your name the other day."

You're face had look of shock when you looked up at him then. "I didn't?! That wasn't very professional of me, was it?”

"I won't tell on you."

You bit your bottom lip before apologizing, adding your name at the end with your hand out for him to take. It was dwarfed by the size of his hand and glove.

He cemented it to his brain, rolling it over and mouthing it behind the beskar of his helmet. "Mesh'la."

"Excuse me?"

"Mesh'la. It means beautiful in my native language."

"Oh! I like that."

Boba suddenly realized he was still holding your hand before he took it back gently. "Are you going out tonight?"

"Not that I'm aware of, why?" You cocked your head. "You wanna ask me out?"

Very bold little one.

"Maybe. Would you go out with me? Just for a drink, you can tell me about all the other places I should visit while I'm waiting."

"Sure. Why not?"

Boba's stomach twisted at your coy smile. "It's a date. I'll be waiting outside."

"Outside? Mando I still have an hour to work!" You protested.

He tapped the side of his helmet and the clock counter showed him the time. "Forty-five minutes. I can be patient." Boba then patted the glass counter, noticing the way you twisted in place as if bashfulness had grabbed you by the throat and strutted towards the door, looking over his shoulder at you still watching him as he chimed through the door.

He had done his job and damn well if he was being truthful to himself. He was proud and took up post just to the side of the store front, noticing how others jogged across the street from him while a few reckless others strolled by giving him a side eye.

They're lucky I'm not after them he thought as he checked the time again, only three minutes have passed and for some unexplained reason all he could do was picture your face and repeat your name over until it sounded faintly like an ancient prayer.

[brighteststarinthesky]

Soulmates

So here’s another one. I’d told myself I wouldn’t write any because I don’t have time and ended up posting two in a week. 

This one is a bit angstier but I hope you guys will still like it, please let me know if you do ! 

Ship Daryl Dixon/Reader

Set in Alexandria, no other spoilers for the show.

The day before a run, you’d always make sure to pack your bag. The list varied depending on the length and who you went with but some things were essentials.

A rug, a bottle of water, two cereal bars or other dried goods, weapon and ammo, a vial of antiseptic, some gauze and suture thread and most importantly  an extra set of underwear and socks. Never again would you sleep with wet socks. 

You looked around your room, trying to see if you’d forgotten anything but deep down you knew you hadn’t. 

All you could see was the mess you’d need to care of when you’d get back. The one thing that made it more bearable was the fact that it wasn’t all yours. 

After what must have been a year of being together, Daryl had finally started feeling comfortable enough to leave stuff over at your place. And so you’d ended up with bolts needing repairing on your dresser, an extra red rug on the bedside table of his side of the bed. 

You smiled when you realised you’d called it his side. 

Unlike you, Daryl didn’t pack beforehand. He’d just grab a bag and throw whatever in a bag, if he even took a bag with him. “Got my crossbow and a bottle of water, what else do I need?” he’d told you once.

Which was why you were surprised when he walked into the room not long after. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” you asked. It was unusual for him to come in before dark. There was always something to do outside, something to fix on his motorcycle or animals to hunt.

“Yeah, just came to check on ya and get those,” he said before heading for the discarded bolts. 

Daryl had his back to you but you knew he was still completely aware of your position in the room. You softly walked up to him and put your hand on the top of his arm, his muscles immediately tensing up. 

It still happened even after all the time you’d been together. It wouldn’t last. Most of the time he’d relax immediately, sometimes he’d even lean into your touch. Still the scars of his past, literal and figurative, would never completely fade.

Today was a  leaning in kind of day. You gently tightened your grip, your thumb caressing the skin right under the edge of his sleeve and kissed his shoulder. 

“I finished packing, laid out some stuff for you too if you want it,” you hummed against his skin. 

“I’ll take a look in the mornin’.” Absolutely typical. “Carol’ll be comin’ with us on tha’ run.”

It was your turn to get tensed and with your hand still on Daryl’s shoulder there was no way he hadn’t noticed.

"What’s the deal with ya and Carol?” his voice was a lot colder now. It was obvious from the way he gripped the bolts it was costing him a lot to stay calm. 

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t a lie. You liked Carol a lot, loved going on runs with her. She was good at it, great even. Her humour was even sharper than her blade. Still it was the wrong thing to say.

“’Nough with the bullshit!” he snapped at you, shrugging you off and finally turning to look at you. “Why ‘re ya always bailin’ on runs with her?”

“I’m not, I went with her on the last one.” 

This was the wrong thing to say and you’d realised it as soon as the words left your mouth. He squinted at your and you saw one of his first tighten in anger.

“Ya righ’, it’s jus’ when I’m there.” There was a shift in his demeanor when he said it. He seemed colder, meaner. “Wha’s up with that? Ain’t trustin’ me no more? That it?” 

You thought you’d been subtle about it, that he hadn’t noticed. But of course he did. That’s what drew you to him in the first place. How observant he was. How he’d take notice in the smallest of things. 

“God no, Daryl. Of course not!” You could feel your eyes starting to burn, the beating of your heart resounding in your ears.

“Wha’ is it, then?” he shouted.

“What if something happened, huh?” you shouted right back, tears now running down your face. “What if you had to make a choice between me and Carol?! Which one would you pick, your girl or your soulmate?”

Whatever he was expecting as an answer, this was not it. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, struggling with what to say next. You took a few deep shuddering breath, trying to calm down a bit. 

Daryl’s eyes seemed lighter, clearer when he looked at you. Like the anger that had inhabited him moments ago had started lifting.

“There’s no right or wrong option here,” you sighed. Your hands were still shaking but the buzzing in your ears was starting to fade away. “You’ll end up hating yourself no matter what and I refuse to be a part of that.” 

You had to look away. You couldn’t look at his conflicted face, his brain already torturing him with a scenario that had kept you awake more nights than you cared to admit. 

Not waiting for his answer, unsure one would even come, you walked out of the room. You needed out, real out not stuck between the walls of Alexandria. 

Between the tears and your shaky hands you were having a hard time securing your holster to your thigh, hunched over trying to close a damn buckle. 

You were so focused on the task, you didn’t hear him approach you, not that you ever did, and jumped when you saw shoes right in front of yours, dropping your weapon. The loud metallic clank the only sound in the room. 

“Listen I—” But he didn’t let you finish. 

Daryl pulled you into a hug, one of those rare ones you he knew he gave more to comfort himself that the person he was desperately holding on to. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, one of his hands coming to cover your head , bringing it even closer to his chest like he was trying to shelter you from the outside world. 

You closed your eyes and held him back, your hands gripping the back of his shirt.

“I’d pick ya,” he whispered into your hair.

A small, sad chuckle escaped you. “Now who’s the one lying?”

He only held you tighter.

[dothwrites]

part vi of mafia!au 

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

COMPLETE

---

Recovery is slow and excruciating. 

Castiel’s body has never rebelled against him to this extent. His muscles refuse to do their damn jobs and function. He’s relegated to his bed for days on end, while being forced to endure Sam Winchester’s lurking and Gabriel’s overly effusive attempts to cheer him. 

All of those would be fine, except that he hasn’t seen the house’s other occupant, Dean Winchester, except in short glimpses, as though Dean is the rarest of all animals, only seen from a distance. 

Which is fucking bullshit, because he can hear Dean’s voice, echoing through the tiny confines of the house, after Dean thinks he’s asleep. Clearly, it’s not the concept of social interaction which Dean finds daunting, but rather, the concept of social interaction with him. 

It’s infuriating. 

It wouldn’t be as bad if he thought Dean’s avoidance was due to hatred or indifference. But even though he’d been fairly hazy that first morning, he’d seen how Dean’s whole face brightened, he’d felt the hard clutch of Dean’s fingers in his. The look on Dean’s face...Castiel doesn’t want to put a name to it, doesn’t dare try to define it, but he knows for sure that it wasn’t hatred or apathy. 

Which means Dean is staying away from him for some other reason and that...

That’s bullshit. 

So Castiel does what he’s been doing his entire life and pushes everything aside in favor of a single minded pursuit. This time, he pours all of himself into the mission to get his fucking body to do what it’s supposed to do. He starts with minuscule goals, such as getting out of bed and pacing around his room, but it’s still too much for some. 

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” Gabriel asks, a little sourly, as he stands in the doorway of Castiel’s bedroom. 

“Are you sure you should be poking your nose into my business?” Castiel asks back. For all that Gabriel is the elder sibling, they’ve never been under any delusions as to who was actually suited for this business. Gabriel is too flighty, too interested in frivolous pursuits and the mundane workings of everyday life. It was always Castiel who could sink his teeth into a problem, who could take it apart, hold the bloody pieces in his hands, and see how they could be sewn back together into a new animal. 

“Whatever,” Gabriel concedes, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “On your own head be it.” 

Castiel sneers after Gabriel as he turns to leave. He’s just in time for Dean to poke his head out of his room. It would be comical, if it weren’t so infuriating, to see how quickly Dean’s eyes bulge and his face reddens. Castiel is afforded one swift glimpse before Dean retreats into the safety of his room, slamming the door closed behind him. 

Castiel rolls his eyes and starts another circuit around the room. 

---

His body might be stubborn but Castiel continues on his conquest of it. Soon, he’s walking laps around the house, followed by short jogs around the property. The safehouse is far enough in the country that, as long as he’s careful, he can exercise outside without garnering too much attention. 

The Winchesters and Gabriel watch him with varying degrees of concern. 

“I already told you, I’m fine,” Castiel grunts, massaging at his sore calves after a midnight run. “Besides, we can’t afford to stay here forever.” 

Judging from the shifty look on Gabriel’s face, this is not the first time someone has mentioned this fact. He also notes that his brother proposes no solution, which means that no one has either managed or bothered to come up with one. Typical. 

Castiel’s impatience and ire increases when he considers the reason they haven’t yet moved on. They’re waiting for him to recover, which is an unconscionable burden on his mind. Every minute they spend in this house, waiting for him to get his shit together, is another minute he’s putting them all in danger. 

Gabriel lingers in the doorway, saying nothing, yet watching Castiel with an intensity usually only reserved for cupcakes and candy. After a few moments it starts to grate on Castiel’s nerves, yet he waits until he’s fully done with his post-run routine to speak. “Something else you needed?” 

“When are you going to talk about it?” Gabriel asks, much too kindly for Castiel’s liking. 

“Talk about what? What do to next? I’d love to do that, if it were possible to get you, Sam, and Dean in the same room for longer than five minutes.” 

“When are you going to talk about Naomi?” 

Castiel’s blood freezes. 

“I might be an idiot, but I know enough. I know who Dad’s attack dogs are, and I know how they work.” Gabriel swallows, unwontedly serious. “I saw the marks, Cassie.” 

Castiel’s hand makes an aborted jerk to the crook of his elbow where the scars are still livid against his skin. He catches the movement before it has a chance to amount to anything and forces his hand back down to his side. He can still feel the phantom ache of needles pushing into his skin, still remember how it felt when the road forked and reality went one way while his brain went another. 

He hasn’t told anyone, but sometimes, he’ll catch movement out of the corner of his eye, turn, and find nothing there. He tries to tell himself that this happens to everyone, that he’s fine, that he’s normal, but there’s always the insidious creeping fear down his spine--What if he’s losing it? What if Naomi fucked him up permanently? 

What if he’s never the same? 

If he doesn’t have his mind, if he doesn’t have his body, then he’s useless. He can’t protect anyone. He has nothing to offer. 

“I’m fine,” Castiel croaks, once he realizes Gabriel is still waiting for an answer. 

One eyebrow ticks upwards. “Yeah, once more until I actually believe you.”

“I already said that I’m fine. I don’t know what else you want.” 

Gabriel throws his arm wide. “For you to stop trying to run yourself into the ground? For you to stay in a room longer than ten minutes? For you to acknowledge that you maybe have an actual problem?”

Castiel sniffs, retreating into haughtiness to hide his hurt and anxiety. “Well, I’m sorry if I choose to concentrate on more important things, like trying to get well enough to protect us all.”

Gabriel gapes at him. “To protect...” He looks over his shoulder, like he expects to find the Winchesters supporting him. Upon finding no one there, he turns back to Castiel. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Dean and I are fairly good at what we do. Even the stringbean can hit the broad side of a barn. We’re fine.” 

The deliberate inflection of his voice suggests that Castiel is somehow not lumped into the general category of ‘fine’. 

“Fuck off,” Castiel growls, as a more appropriate comeback fails to materialize. He storms past his brother, hitting him in the shoulder as he makes his way to the bathroom. Gabriel doesn’t try to stop him, but Castiel knows he’s still watching. 

Some of his righteous rage is lost when he looks down the length of the hallway and finds Dean standing at the opposite end. He spares a single, startled look at Castiel before he scampers back towards the living room. Castiel’s temper worsens at the sight of Dean’s retreating back. 

Dean is a confirmed killer, a man who’s known the feel of a gun in his hand since he could walk. He’s seen Dean in action and admired his skills and ruthlessness. Now he’s watching the same man running scared. Castiel can’t think of anything more pathetic or more frustrating. 

Now in a profoundly foul mood, Castiel slams the bathroom door shut. The sound echoes through the house. He twists the knob of the creaky shower, turning the heat all the way up so that steam billows throughout the room. He steps underneath the spray, ignoring the tendrils of pain licking across his body, his tender, scarred skin protesting the rough treatment. 

He pushes away the ever present nip of worry (what if Gabriel’s right, what if he’s weak, what if he’s broken beyond repair) and scrubs at his skin until tiny pinpricks of blood well up, and then he scrubs some more. 

---

Matters come to a head a few days later. 

No longer content with pushing his body through runs, Castiel’s taken to shadow boxing in the house’s basement. He dances around the dank, mildewy space in his bare feet, tossing punches and kicks at imaginary enemies. His muscles scream at the exercise and threaten to collapse and tear, but he pushes on anyway. 

His thoughts are spiraling ever downward, dovetailing with his exhaustion. Castiel’s so lost within their grip that the opening of the basement door escapes his attention. Even the weary creak of the step doesn’t catch his attention. He’s formed bad habits in his convalescence. In his world, such laziness gets people killed. 

When he catches sight of Dean standing at the foot of the stairs, he jumps in surprise. Embarrassment flushes his cheeks red, and he hides his shame with snippiness. “Did you need something?” 

Castiel paces around the basement, grabbing a bottle of water, just to give his hands something to do. He tries to unscrew the top but gives up after two tries. He doesn’t want Dean to see how badly his hands are trembling. 

“You know that we’ve got your back, right?” Dean finally says. Castiel stops pacing. He wasn’t expecting that. 

Despite his surprise, he recovers quickly. “Coming from a Winchester, that isn’t exactly inspiring,” he sneers. 

Dean doesn’t try to hide his flinch. Castiel feels an irrational stab of guilt at that. “I just thought you should hear it from someone who wasn’t your brother,” he says, already turning to go back up the stairs. “But you have all three of us. Him, Sam.” Dean pauses for a second. “Me.” He continues on quickly, like he wants Castiel to forget about the slight emphasis he put on himself. “Anyway, you don’t have to do this every day. Take a day off before you kill yourself.” 

Castiel’s upper lip lifts reflexively. So, Dean’s joined forces with Gabriel. Next, he supposes Sam Winchester will find him and urge him to talk about it, you’ll feel better if you get it all out in the open. 

“Stay,” he says, brain running ahead of his common sense. Dean pauses, his foot already on the step. “It’s no good shadow boxing. I need a partner.” 

Dean wants to argue. Castiel can tell by his hesitation, the twitch of his fingers, the way he closes his mouth on whatever he was going to say. Castiel waits, head cocked to the side. He doesn’t quite smile in victory when Dean makes his decision, but he must give off the impression of it, as Dean’s expression darkens. 

“You know this isn’t doing you any good,” Dean says, as he sheds his flannel overshirt. The fabric has barely hit the floor before Castiel is on him, swinging at his head in a wild, haymaker punch. Dean blocks him easily, but the suddenness of the attack surprises him, as he lurches backward. 

“What the hell?” he spits, a mixture of fury and worry spread across his face. 

Castiel dances back, shifting his weight between the balls of his feet. His fists are held up close to his jaw, elbows tucked in close to his sides to protect his ribs. Within seconds, Dean copies his movements, but with slight differences. Castiel keeps himself contained, taut, muscles coiled in a defensive posture. Dean is looser, his left hand lazily extended, though Castiel doesn’t fall for the trap. That left hand can just as easily block blows as it can land a stinging jab. 

When it comes to Dean Winchester, there are dozens of traps, and Castiel seems to have fallen into all of them. 

They spend several long minutes circling each other, exchanging tentative jabs in a dance of blocks and dodges. They learn what blows the other considers threatening and what the other will shake off. 

Castiel changes the tempo when he aims a low kick at Dean’s hip. Dean twists out of the way, but when he turns back to Castiel, something in his face has changed. His eyes have hardened, his fingers curled purposefully into his palm. Castiel understands. Dean was just passing the time earlier, indulging his whimsy. For whatever reason, now he’s made up his mind to act. 

“You need to take it easy,” Dean tells him. He moves easily into Castiel’s space, each motion screaming aggression. He bats away Castiel’s jab; Castiel blocks Dean’s punch. They fall apart, sharp eyes raking over the other in a search for weaknesses. 

“You need to mind your own business,” Castiel replies. He has to concentrate on speaking; already he’s a little short of breath, though he’d rather chew off his own fingernails rather than admit that to Dean. “What I do is none of your concern.” 

Dean falters at that. His defenses lower, which allows Castiel to dart in, landing several snap punches to Dean’s ribs before Dean regains himself and forces him back. Something dangerous flashes in the depths of Dean’s eyes, and a vicious satisfaction rises in Castiel’s chest. This is what he wanted, this is the Dean Winchester that he--

The thought hits him, unbidden and unwelcome, and Castiel freezes. His inattention gives Dean the opening he needs. Where Castiel fights with precision and accuracy, Dean favors overwhelming force. It’s a strategy which works well for him and he uses it to devastating effect, foregoing fancy footwork and devious punches for a simple, unavoidable attack. Dean puts his head down and charges, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist in an attempt to throw him to the ground. 

It’s a perfect storm: His muscles, still not where they were before, falter. His balance, another casualty of Naomi’s untender mercies, isn’t enough to save him from catching his heel against an irregularity on the cheap mat he’s laid out. Dean is a hurricane, a typhoon, and underneath his onslaught, Castiel tumbles backward. 

Castiel’s back hits the ground, hard enough to knock the breath out of him. His head slams into the ground, and his vision spins for several, vital seconds. By the time he regains his equilibrium, Dean is already atop him, knees clamping in hard against his ribs. One of Dean’s hands wraps around his throat, fingers flexing in warning. 

“Enough,” Dean says tightly. “Whatever you’re trying to prove, enough. We get it, all right? You’re a big badass who doesn’t need anyone. We get it.” 

If he weren’t staring so closely at Dean’s face, then Castiel would miss his quick flash of emotion. As it is, it’s there and gone before he has a chance to really examine it, but for the moment, it’s enough to know that it exists. 

Castiel slumps back onto the floor, allowing his exhausted muscles a moment’s respite. Dean, ever cautious, doesn’t relent. Smart man. Ruthless. Focused. He’s a killer, Dean Winchester, and whatever is broken in Castiel’s brain is drawn to that part of him, just as much as it’s drawn to the well-hidden, softer aspects of him, like his obvious affection for his brother and his insistence on protecting civilians. 

But for all of his admirable qualities, Dean Winchester is still just a man. Castiel tips his head back, baring the vulnerable stretch of his throat to Dean’s gaze. It’s a deliberately submissive gesture, one designed to draw the eyes. He feels the exact moment Dean loosens his grip, distracted, and it’s that moment that Castiel acts. 

He bucks his hips up in a single, sharp motion, while striking out at Dean’s elbow. With his support gone, Dean buckles. While there are countless activities which Castiel could imagine partaking in with Dean slumped overtop him, he’s not interested in any of them. Instead, he uses Dean’s momentum against him, rolling them until their positions are neatly reversed. 

Dean snarls and curses, but Castiel has him pinned, much more securely than Dean did him. His knees presses down on Dean’s right wrist, immobilizing his strongest arm. Castiel leans forward. With his superior position, he doesn’t need to hold back his panting, doesn’t need to feel ashamed for the several beads of sweat which slip down from his forehead to the tip of his nose, to fall upon Dean’s throat. 

“I don’t need your permission to do anything,” Castiel says, once he thinks he can speak without wheezing through a sentence. “I’m not weak, I’m not broken, I’m not whatever else you three think I am. I’m fine.” Before he can stop himself, the words come tumbling out, the ones which he’d meant to keep close to his chest. “So you can stop running from me, or whatever it is that you’ve been doing. I’m fine.” 

Emotion twists across Dean’s face again, and this time, Castiel is in a position to examine it. Surprisingly, when he’s forced to put a name to it, the definition he comes up with is guilt. He tilts his head to the side in confusion, only realizing after he sits back on Dean’s stomach that he’s left himself vulnerable to an attack. 

Dean doesn’t take the opening. He lays passively underneath Castiel and doesn’t try to squirm away, doesn’t push him away, doesn’t do anything. If Castiel had to guess, then he would say that Dean enjoys being there. Or at least, he would if he could get that awful, hangdog look off his face. 

“What is it?” he asks. There’s something there, writhing underneath the surface of Dean’s expression, something that probably shouldn’t see the surface but it has to. 

Dean turns his head away. It’s a childish move, one that irritates Castiel, as it’s an extension of what Dean’s been doing for days. He’s avoiding Castiel, running from him, which is infuriating. Dean Winchester is many things, but a coward, he is not. 

“Answer me.” He takes Dean’s jaw in his hand and forces Dean to meet his eyes. He stares at Dean, the same stare guaranteed to make hardened criminals think twice and civilians piss their pants. 

It makes Dean blink, but it’s enough. That blink starts an avalanche, and eventually, Dean’s whole face crumples. He blinks, hard and fast, green flickering in and out of existence. 

“It was my fault.” Dean’s voice comes out as a tortured whisper. Castiel holds Dean’s jaw prisoner between his fingers, now allowing Dean to turn away. At first, Dean jerks against the restricting hold, but once the first wall crumbles, all the rest fall quickly, and Dean stares him down. 

“What was your fault?” Castiel asks, when no more information is forthcoming. 

For a moment, he thinks Dean will pull away, but Dean surprises him. It’s obvious that he’s struggling with his admission, but it comes. Haltingly, in little fits, but it comes. 

“If it hadn’t been for me...Fuck, Cas, are you going to make me say it? If it weren’t for me, then you would be fine. You’d be with your family, head of the family, and you’d be...” Dean forces a swallow. His eyes perform a swift sweep of Castiel’s figure, down to his chest, where the scars still linger. 

“It fucking killed me to see you like that.” Dean’s hand rises and Castiel doesn’t move to stop him, not even when Dean’s fingers sneak underneath the hem of his shirt to stroke against his skin. His breath catches as Dean’s calloused fingertips catch against the scabbed edges of his wounds. Every instinct screams for him to move, to run, to flee, but he forces his muscles to inaction and allows Dean to explore him through touch. “God, Cas...You were...” 

Dean looks up at him. His expression is naked and raw. Castiel feels exposed just witnessing it. “You’re a fucking force of nature,” Dean whispers, pressing his palm flat against the quivering skin of his belly. “You’re a goddamn hurricane, and...” 

When he stares at Dean, Castiel sees an unfathomable, looming wave rising in his eyes, the same wave which he feels swelling in his own chest. He leans forward, and Dean’s hand slides from his stomach to his back. The skin there is marred as well, and he gasps softly as Dean’s thumb strokes over a particularly deep wound. 

“It was my choice,” Castiel whispers. He’s hovering low over Dean, their chests almost brushing. He’s close enough that if he wanted, he could count the freckles dotted across the bridge of Dean’s nose. Dean blinks. From his vantage point, Castiel can appreciate the thick curtain of golden lashes fanning across his cheek. 

“I made the call, not you. I knew what had to be done, and I did it. You think I could have been happy there, knowing you were dead? That I’d had a chance to stop it and did nothing? Every second was worth it because that was another second you were safe. I made the choice, and I’d make it again, in a heartbeat. Don’t take that from me.” 

“Goddammit, Cas,” Dean breathes. His hand is heavy against Castiel’s spine, but for once, Castiel doesn’t bristle at the restraint. “I’m not worth that.” 

Castiel’s mouth is not made for smiling. In fact, sometimes he thinks he’s forgotten the knack of it. But around Dean, his face moves easier. An actual smile, not the sarcastic, threatening expression he usually plasters on his face when he feels like intimidating someone, tugs at the corners of his lips. 

“Lucky for both of us, you don’t get to make the decisions,” Castiel whispers. 

He’s not sure which of them moves first. Either way, the end result is the same. His lips crash into Dean’s and Dean receives him with a low moan of delight, his mouth opening automatically. Castiel cards his fingers through Dean’s short hair, tugging at the strands as he maps out the interior of Dean’s mouth. 

The first time he kissed Dean, he’d been selfish. He’d been standing on the edge of his darkest moment, and he’d wanted something golden to take with him, something to hold through the horror. The second time he kissed Dean, he’d been half out of his mind, clinging to the barest hint of reality. He hadn’t even realized Dean was kissing him until it was over. 

This time...

The third time he kisses Dean, Castiel takes his time. 

---

The atmosphere in the house relaxes. 

Castiel stops pushing himself quite so much, and his muscles, glad for the reprieve, begin working as they should. Day by day, his strength increases, and Castiel takes full advantage of this. 

Dean enjoys being pinned and Castiel aims to please. 

The four of them hold contests--who is the quickest draw, who’s the best shot, who has the best accuracy with knives. Sam Winchester, it turns out, is a damn good shot, especially when Castiel considers his youth. 

The four of them work well together. Their personalities clash, sometimes terribly, but they also complement each other, pragmatism warring with emotion, brawn matching brains. Castiel laughs as he looks around the room, realizing that, for possibly the first time in his life, he’s comfortable. Amazing, that he can relax in a room with two Winchesters, but there it is. He trusts Sam and Dean, more than any member of his family, to watch his back. 

(No doubt Dean would throw in an off-color comment about being all too happy to watch Castiel’s back, but he chooses to ignore Dean’s rather childish sense of humor.)

The question naturally arises, as to their next move. 

“The smartest thing to do would be to split up.” It’s Castiel who says it, because it’s always Castiel who retreats to the fortress of cold logic. Three pairs of betrayed eyes stare him down. Castiel returns the stare. “It makes the most sense. There’s four of us; if we all split up, we’d stand a better chance of escaping. We could start over. Be whoever we wanted to be.” 

(Gabriel’s been fighting against the Novak name since he was old enough to know there was something to fight against. Sam Winchester has never wanted the mantle of the Winchester family; he’s dreamed of something else, something altruistic, far away from the dark cloud of John Winchester. Dean...All Dean knows is duty to his father, but Castiel already knows that he’d follow Sam wherever he went. And Castiel...well...He can always try to take back the Novak family. No doubt he’ll fail, but he’s a weapon, a hammer. He doesn’t know how to be anything else.)

“Fuck that,” Dean says, crude and succinct as always. “Your splitting up plan, not your be whoever we want to be plan.” 

Dean leans forward. His eyes lock onto Castiel’s. It’s as though they’re the only two people in the room. “Look at us. We wouldn’t have gotten you out if we hadn’t worked together. You wouldn’t have been able to get me out if we hadn’t worked together. You, me, Gabriel, Sam...we’re just better together.” 

Dean’s words touch something vulnerable in his chest, something Castiel has never bothered to acknowledge. What else was there for him, other than a life of violence? There was no room in the Novak family for love, no room for freedom. 

Dean makes him dream it’s possible. 

“They’ll look for us,” Castiel says, in a last ditch attempt at realism. “Not only the Novaks. The Winchesters too. They won’t like the idea that people are capable of defying them.” 

“So let them come.” It’s Sam’s voice, ringing clear from the table. He might have come to this house as a child, but he’s matured in the time since he’s been here. Castiel trusts him just as much as anyone else sitting at the table. “Dean’s right. If there’s four of us, then we stand a better shot. We’ll watch each other’s back.” 

“Careful there, Samsquatch,” Gabriel hums, his eyes dancing over the rim of his glass. “Your back is a little big to watch.” 

Sam shoots Gabriel a disparaging look and Castiel has to struggle to bite back his laugh. How could he dream of giving this up? These people are his friends, his...

His family. 

“So we go. We’ll go somewhere new, make our own destinies. Team Free Will.” Dean takes a drink from his glass. 

“Nifty title, but I think you’re leaving a few steps out,” Gabriel says. “I’m all in favor of Team Free Will, but exactly how are we going to make our way in the world?”

Gabriel’s eyes cut to Castiel. It’s Castiel who always has the answer, Castiel whose brutal logic always comes rushing forth at times like these. 

And this is the time for logic. Both the Novaks and the Winchesters have considerable financial resources, and they’ll stop at nothing to regain their lost sense of pride. If they’re found, then the best they can hope for is a quick death. Castiel might have tucked the majority of his finances away, but his funds won’t stretch nearly as far or as long as he’ll need them to. They’ll have to get jobs. Or else...

Maybe they could move to a different city and start their own family. Maybe, one day, they could come back here and take back what’s rightfully theirs. 

Castiel glances over at Dean. They could run this town. They could have it all. 

“I don’t know,” Castiel finally answers, ostensibly answering Gabriel, but never looking away from Dean. 

“I guess we’ll make it up as we go.” 

[vegalocity]

18/22/33 for Spicynoodleshipping? (MK being a bit of a tease during the secret phase of him and Red...)

Prompt meme

18. Teasing kisses where one person blows air into the other’s mouth and runs away. // 22. A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party. // 33.An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.

I refuse to have EVERYTHING in this continuity be borderline angsty so here have some cute

--

It probably wasn't the best idea to start treating their one-on-one encounters as more of a game, to let the others sort themselves out while they engaged in a friendly bout of sparring not unlike a pair of grade school boys who would wrastle eachother to show affection. But it was kind of hard to take someone as a serious threat when you know the exact buttons to push to turn them into a blushing mess. It didn't exactly hurt that Xiaotian had learned through a fair bit of Red Son's pre-activity ranting, that his parents didn't have a large scale plan at the moment and were mostly stalling for time waiting for correspondance from a possibly ally whom apparently had an abundance of magical items, though Red Son was pretty sure nothing would come of it, so most of the 'schemes' they'd been sending him on were mostly to keep Xiaotian and his friends on their toes and maybe snatch the staff if they got lucky.

It's not like there were any real stakes beyond this or that fancy sounding artifact that didn't even do anything beyond be old and valuable or even simple bragging rights no matter who won. (And Red Son didn't really care about the artifacts either since they were generally incompatible with DBK's power armor for 'whatever reason' so they'd be snuck back wherever they were stolen from in a week's time or so anyway) So there wasn't really an issue in just kinda... letting the mood be light as the two traded barbs and punches in equal measure.

And if the area they ended up in while battling was particularly removed from prying eyes then what was the harm in turning the insults into.. something a little more fun?

“Do you ever wear clothes that fit you? I'd love to see those arms in the daylight for once.” Xiaotian lost his footing at the coy comment and Red Son took the opportunity to slam him against a wall, length of his forearm pressing against his neck in a way that was only a little erotic. And oh.. that smirk was just cheating.

But he didn't pin Xiaotian's arms-“Big words from someone who covers a butt like that in a long coat.” Red Son squawcked and pulled away in shock, face lighting up as red as his hair and Xiaotian used the sudden distance to grab Red Son's wrists and spin them around, now pinning him to the wall. “Though I should be lucky that means I'm the only one who gets to see it.”  he huffed in Red Son's ear, and it was tempting to end this encounter one particular way... Soon they were just inches away, Xiaotian leaned in, waiting until Red Son's eyes flickered closed and he closed the distance remaining.

And then he blew a puff of air into Red Son's mouth, and turned heel, sprinting away cackling. “SEE YOU NEXT TIME HOT STUFF!”

“NOODLE BOY”

--

“I won't lie to you Noodle Boy, I've had multiple fantasies that started out exactly like this.”  'this' in question being Xiaotian pinning Red Son to the ground with the staff pressed onto his shoulders to ensure he couldn't move.

Xiaotian pulled away, though not by much, face lighting up with a blush he couldn't fight back, before proper embarrassment pulled in “Dude!” he whispered harshly “We're not exactly alone right now!”

“I think my upgrades to those Bull Clones will keep your dragon friend distracted for some time.” Sure enough the sound of rapid laser fire echoed from the other room and as was the sound of Xiaojiao swearing harshly.

“Red!”

“Relax, it's nonlethal.” He rolled his eyes “They don't even really hurt, it's the laser equivalent of knockout gas when fired point blank.”

“Still not cool dude.”

Red Son huffed at his disapproval, looking away to ponder, before smirking up at him.

“Would it help if I told you what usually happens after you pin me down and loom over me just like this?”

Unfortunately, they were back on topic and Xiaotian couldn't find the breath to tell him to knock it off. So Red Son took his silence as an encouragement to continue.

“So right about now, You'll usually say something clever about me being unable to fight you like this, to which I'd respond that I could combust my entire body and see how much you'd like to stay pinned to that, and so you'd reply that you know I wouldn't, because you know how much I love being pinned down by you.”

And oh did Xiaotian know that intimately.

“O-Oh?”

“Mmhm, and putting the staff on me without my gauntlet means I can't do anything but squirm while you do what you want with me.”

Wow was it easy for this situation to flip on its head.

“And-...And what do I usually want with you?” God that tone could drive him insane if he let it...He leaned in until his nose brushed Red Son's. His breathing must have been heavy, of the self pleased smirk Red Son had on his face indicated anything.

“Well that's where it varies, Sometimes quick sometimes slow, sometimes your hands go beneath my clothes, sometimes they rip them off, sometimes you'll tease me until I'm absolutely mindless with desire, other times you'll-Mph!”

Dammit only Red Son could get him riled up like this. The kiss was a little sloppy, but Xiaotian refused to care as his hands slid off the staff, the weight alone keeping Red Son pinned and sliding his hands down his chest, the familiar terrain made strange by the jacket. Oh man just the mental image had him all hot and bothered, but how would Red Son react if he decided to DO some of that? That last one sounded really tempt-

“XIAOTIAN” Xiaojiao's voice cut through the haze and snapped him from the lustful trance. He darted off of Red Son, taking the staff with him, and sure enough a split second later Xiaojiao burst intot he entryway, sword hefted onto her shoulder and clearly frustrated. “Let's get the hell out of here If I have to smash another robot while you're playing Hungry Hungry Hippos with Red Son I am gonna be pissed.”

Red Son hadn't gotten up from the floor, and must have ooked as though he couldn't from the distance, Xiaotian spared him one last glance, and despite his own frustration at their fun being interrupted, Red Son shot him a smirk, before pulling out a silver flip phone. Xiaotian felt his own blue burner phone vibrate with an oncoming text and pretended the flush on his face was from battle exertion.

–

“Noodle Boy! The time of reckoning has come!” Just because things had gotten more... casual between them didn't mean Red Son would ever tone down the theatrics. “The staff is ours now!” 'ours' being more metaphorical than t usually was granted Red Son was standing alone as he usually was recently. So thankfully Xiaotian didn't have to put away his amused grin as Red Sonc ontinued his pre-prepared spiel.

“You see Noodle Boy I've been spending our past soiree's observing! Learning... Uhm... Planning...and you see i've noticed a... pattern...” Though it seemed like he was running out of steam. “In regards to your fighting-Aren't you going to interrupt me with inane commentary?!”

“Nah, you worked hard on this speech.” Xiaotian waved a hand before winking “You're cute when you get all passionate.”

Red Son cleared his throat a bit awkwardly and huffed “As-As I was saying then... In regards to your fighting I've noticed that while the staff is your greatest weapon it's also  your only weapon. Therefore, I would challenge you to a battle with neither weapons nor magic, we put our arms down and try to kill eachother like civilized people!”

“I'm game.” He shrunk the staff down and hid it in its usual place, and began to stretch. Honestly Red Son wasn't even being subtle this time.

“Wait- Really?”

Xiaotian strode forward until he was nearly brushing Red Son's chest with his own. Right there in public. Sure nobody was around, but they could have been.

“Sure.” He leaned forward and placed a feather light kiss to his still bewildered sort-of-enemy-sort-of-boyfriend. “If you can catch me first!” he spun on his heel and darted away as Red Son was still re-engaging his brain from the action and heard a shreik of outrage

--

Send me stuff!

[land-of-classpects-and-analysis]

Hi! Could you do a Prince of Heart?

Hello!

I can gladly give a little sneak peek to the wonderful combo of existential AND identity crisis that is the Prince of Heart!

Now, as we all know, Princes can be quite dramatic and extreme in how they present themselves, but also how they perceive themselves. They often are ones who regard themselves as better and higher than everyone else around them. It’s just that some Princes do this in far more humble ways than others, often being vague in what they really mean with their compliments(?) but also in their insults(?). The best way to describe them is the masters of giving back-handed compliments left and right.

As also highlighted before, the Prince is one who often rejects their given Aspect; oftentimes out of fear, disgust, or even hatred for it. They see it more as a flaw of not only their character, but everyone else, as well. Because of this, if the Prince is to go unchecked, which they, unfortunately, often do, then they will commit the act of attempting to cleanse themself, everyone else, and in the most extreme cases the very world and/or universe itself of their Aspect. This is otherwise known as them destroying their Aspect and, in the process, themself.

No Prince better highlights this power of self-destruction than the Prince of Heart themself. They are someone who sees no point in only thinking for themself, or even worrying about such a subjective matter of contemplation and discussion. Instead, the Prince of Heart is one who steers far closer to the mannerisms to that of the Mind-bound. Cold, calculating, and always looking for the best possible outcome in any situation they or their friends are in, the Prince of Heart is one who puts their identity - and their Aspect - on the very back burner of their mind.

Much like any other Prince, the reason for the abandonment of their Aspect is one that varies. However, for the Prince of Heart, there are two common reasons for this negative connotation that they have crafted on their own. The first one is that the Prince has seen only the negatives of being Heart-bound; the pain, turmoil, and confusion that comes from desperately trying to search for one’s identity. The countless nights of lost sleep that will never happen again, all the while laying in bed, looking up at the ceiling and asking the same questions. Who am I? What do I stand for? Where do I want to end up? When will it finally be my time to shine? Why do I have to be me?

The other reason is that the Prince knew of someone, or multiple people, who became so wrapped up in their own identities and destiny that it ultimately consumed them. When that funeral came around, no one would be there, for that person had pushed themself away and above everyone else. Such a fate of arrogance, foolishness and, ultimately, loneliness is one the Prince of Heart wishes to avoid at any and all costs. And so they went towards the way of the Mind, following the electrical surges through their brain rather than the rhythmic beating of their Heart.

To save for time, the full length of the Prince of Heart’s journey will not be entirely laid out here; however, do believe it is one of discovering that self-importance and identity. Of having to inevitably face the fact that as scary as the unknown may seem, the beating of the Heart will always be there to guide them, no matter how lost they may feel. Sometimes, in those dark, murky depths that is the ocean of identity, the Heart the Prince follows may not even be their own, but rather someone who they hold close and love dearly.

The journey of the Prince of Heart is one about overcoming deep-rooted fears, traumas, and internalized manufactured walls of false security. Ultimately, the Prince of Heart should be one who not only comes to realize who they are - how important of a role they play in the lives of others and the story they inhabit - but also how to destroy through that very sense of Being, of Self, and of Heart.

By destroying through one’s Heart, or rather self, it is most certainly an interesting power to ponder on. After all, doesn’t everyone already destroy through their “selves”? When people in locked in battle, they are using all that they are and made up as to try and overthrow the other side. Although that is partially the case, the Prince of Heart is one who is able to take such a thing and make it into something more.

They are capable of essentially powering themself up, making themself into a pristine, perfect bio-weapon to be unleashed onto even the toughest of enemies. In a heated duel, if anyone is to land one of the most devastating blows, chances are that it would be the Prince of Heart to do it. They are a warrior, much akin to any Knight and maybe even Page, and their fighting style most certainly shows it. Where all this power comes from, most importantly, is the amount of essence of Heart that they Prince holds inside of themself. Which is to say, the more stability the Prince, and maybe even their teammates, have in their Hearts, the stronger the Prince’s power can grow. If such stability were to falter, though, then the Prince runs the risk of becoming  not as powerful as they once were.

As for the base power of destruction - the power to destroy their Aspect - this is another instance of the Prince of Heart posing as quite the intimidating figure. Much like every other Aspect, the Heart Aspect is one that has at least two manifestations. One of these is the literal one; though, for the Heart Aspect, this one will be far more linked to the Sense of Self. Essentially, this power would be able to destroy anyone’s certainty in their identity, or at the very least certain parts of it. A person could be dead-set on themselves being the main character, though such self-importance may not last too long if the Prince of Heart deems such a mindset too imposing or problematic.

Another form is the metaphysical one, which, in this case, would be the Soul of a person. By focusing deep, deep into the very being of a person, the Prince of Heart would be able to essentially spiritually destroy someone. Whether this is done physically or rather in some odd magic sense wherein the person’s soul is torn to shreds by the Prince’s own hands, or it is done far more psychologically and by word of mouth. After all, with the right words at the right time, a person’s spirit and soul could so easily be crushed under the weight of judgment and disapproval.

The exact role of the Prince of Heart is a rather finicky one, and they most certainly are a figure to stir up quite a bit of controversy in whatever group they find themself within. Whether it is because of their inherit “holier than thou” air and attitude, their cold and uncaring ways of handling conversations with others, or the underlying threat of having your very sense of self being destroyed at any moment, the Prince of Heart is one that will always have eyes drawn towards them for one reason or another. Love them, hate them, or moderately tolerate them, one thing is for certain; a Prince of Heart who achieves the power to become the very ocean that makes up everyone’s identities, and has mastered the skill of destroying through the Self, then they are someone who is not to be taken lightly.

Hope this helps a little bit, Anon, to give a somewhat-below-the-surface look at the Prince of Heart!

[starkrogerrs]

Keep your body all on me

this is for @desitonystark aka the thot queen. ly and hope you like it! (i have part 2 of this in the works already so let's hope y'all make me wanna write more ;))

summary: stripper!tony x sugar daddy!steve. you know what (or rather, who) is coming. ao3

Steve isn't a regular at The Lotus Strip Club.

At least, that's what he tells himself everytime the guards let him through the doors and into the bedazzling lights and amidst the dancers who are in varying degrees of undress.

"Hello, Mr. Rogers! We weren't expecting you today," a beautiful, red-haired woman greets him.

Steve smiles at her forcefully. He is still debating whether or not to go ahead with this at all, partly because he is slightly tipsy from the bar visit and partly because this was not a habit he wants to develop. But today he needs this. Especially after the exhausting yet trivial fight at work.

"Change of plans. I'll have my usual, please," he tells her politely and she winks back at him.

She returns a moment later, an apologetic look on her face. "Giselle's not here today, sir. Also, Rick and Hernandez are busy."

Steve's face falls. He'd wanted to see Giselle today; she was exceptionally attractive and often helped him forget everything that was on his mind. This was the one place he was allowed to have a favorite.

"Surely there's somebody who's free," he says, hoping his voice sounds more cheerful than what it seems like to him.

"There are loads, sir but you haven't been with anyone of them. Who would you like?"

"Surprise me," he says nonchalantly, stalking off to his already paid-for-room.

Bucky had hooked him up to this place. Damn him, but after a particularly bad break-up, Bucky had suggested doing something more... bold to help him move on.

He walks into the expensive suite, all with it's own mini - bar, a lounge, a pole and other things Steve hasn't bothered to check. It's a little too gaudy for Steve's taste but it is a strip club. Flashy is what it has to be.

He is barely settled onto the couch when someone calls to him from behind the shimmering drapes at the entrance.

"Hey, handsome."

A man, about 5 and a half feet tall dressed in tight leather pants and a shirt whose first three buttons are open, is leaning against the frame, a hand on his hip.

He draws close then, as Steve looks on, stopping just shy of his legs.

Glitter shimmers subtly at the corners of his light brown eyes, lined with thick, dark mascara. They almost twinkle as he spins around for Steve. His hair is a mess of dark curls, but looks sexy.

"It's Tony," he chirps. The grin on his plump lips is so contagious, that Steve finds himself smiling back at the man.

God, is he hot.

"I'm Steve," he greets back.

"Gorgeous," Tony drawls, as he drops onto Steve's lap, straddling him with his knees. Steve doesn't even have a moment to process it before Tony starts grinding against him.

Steve lets out a moan at the sudden friction and Tony flashes him a brilliant smile.

"You're a noisy one," he hums, running his hands through Steve's hair and Steve almost leans into his touch, moaning.

His last trip had been a whole month ago. He is touch-starved, to say the least.

"Love that," Tony purrs, continuing to grind against Steve.

He smells brilliant too, adding to his overall attractiveness and Steve feels himself growing hard with every movement of Tony's hips.

Steve puts a hand on the small of Tony's back, holding the man in place as he moves against him.

Tony smiles as he slowly unbuttons his shirt and lets it drop to the floor.

His skin glows a dull bronze and it definitely isn't make-up.

"I've never seen you around here," Steve says, his breath get heavier with the arousal. Tony is panting slightly too, and Steve has an overwhelming urge to kiss him but alas, rules are rules.

"I'm new, hon'," Tony answers and lets out a whimper so soft, it makes Steve buck a little against him.

Tony casts him a devilish smile. He throws his head back then, eyes fluttering shut and one hand coming up to run through his own hair. He arches towards Steve, who is far too tempted to dart out his tongue and lick a stripe.

But all he does is push Tony closer to himself, hands still splayed firm against his ass.

"Oh yeah, that's good," Tony hums, hands now moving to run down Steve's front and then back up. Steve let's his head rest against the couch, relishing in that absolutely addicting feeling that's coursing through his blood.

Just when Steve starts to move against Tony too, unable to keep from the temptation, Tony jumps off of him.

Steve's eyes snap open.

Tony makes a huge show of removing his trousers, as a song blares through the speakers in the room.

His legs are long shafts of beautiful, bronze skin and Steve swears he has never seen a more beautiful man in a life.

Tony is now dressed in only black, lacy underwear that, when he bends, gives Steve the full, scenic view of Tony's absolutely perfect, bubbled ass.

Steve's mouth goes dry at the sight, as Tony slowly stands straight again and strides towards him, a seductive look on his face. He sits on top him again, throwing his hands around Steve's neck this time.

Steve hasn't been this turned-on since... forever. He's feeling almost animal-like, something wild and carnal in him wants to rip off that last piece of cloth off Tony's skin and take him whole.

"You're fucking beautiful," Steve breathes, feeling hot. The tip of Tony's ears turn pink at the compliment but he quickly composes himself.

"You're not so bad yourself," he whispers, lips brushing the shell of Steve's ear. His voice is soft and flirty, and it sends shivers down Steve's spine. Tony is making him feel like a first timer and he absolutely loves it.

Tony has resumed his grinding, but it feels different this time; drawn out and oh-so-good. Steve moans again, trailing his hands all over Tony's front.

"Oh yeah sugar, let me make you feel good," he says softly, and Steve can feel Tony's hardness pressing against him as his own twitches in response.

Steve drags his hand up the length of Tony's thigh, before resting it on his ass. He gives it a harsh squeeze and Tony bites his lips, groaning.

His eyes feel heavy, and his entire body is feverish with desire, the racing thoughts in his brain tumbling out of his mouth before he can ever stop them.

"How much to take you home, then?" Steve breathes, looking at Tony through hooded eyes. Tony stops his movements, gasping at him in surprise and turns red.

"There's rules in this strip club, mister," Tony retorts but the blush hasn't left his cheeks yet. Steve squeezes his ass again, gesturing for Tony to start moving again.

"You look fairly young. I am assuming you need the money," Steve notes as Tony pops the first button of his blue shirt, before sliding one hand inside. He takes a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline rush to his head.

"Well, most people are in this for money," Tony replies quietly, letting his fingers trail over Steve's collarbone. His hips start to move faster, as he bends over Steve's shoulder and Steve has to grip Tony's waist to keep from grinding right back.

Steve blushes a little, not knowing if he should voice the thoughts in his head.

"I'll pay you double the amount that you get here," Steve says, voice almost guttural and Tony pulls back to stare at him with wide eyes. "You don't have to keep doing this."

Tony blinks at him, obviously taken aback. He is silent for a moment. "What do I have to do in return?"

Steve tugs him closer, brushing the skin of the delicious 'V' above his abdomen. "Whatever you do here. The only difference- it'll be at my place. For me exclusively."

Steve has only ever heard rumors of people making such propositions before and never thought he'd be making one someday as well but hell, Tony's making him feel wild like he hasn't in ages.

Tony stares at Steve for a moment, tonguing his cheek. Steve can't tell what he's thinking.

"C'mon," Steve presses, voice dropping an octave,"I'll treat you so good."

Tony looks up and draws close, so that his face is hovering above Steve's and runs a finger from the latter's temple, pausing for a second longer at his lips and all the way to his collarbone; mild amusement curling at the edges of his smirk.

Steve hasn't seen anything hotter and that's saying something, given the plethora of experience with someone as gorgeous as Giselle.

Tony then reaches behind Steve to produce a lipstick from God knows where. He holds his stare as he lets his fingernails scrunch up the fabric of Steve's expensive shirt before ripping it open, buttons flying askew. Steve has barely enough time to react, before Tony quickly writes ten digits in the flamboyant red on his skin and then jumps off his lap, just as the song in the background comes to an end.

Only when he is by the door does he turn back and give Steve a seductive look, all with a playful lip bite that sends all of Steve's blood rushing to his already erect dick.

"Send me the place and time," Tony says with a wink that makes Steve's heart rate spike to a one-fifty, and is gone.