#{ this can be anywhere like we could do a verse where he never fell or this could be prime vader } | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

djarinsbeskar · 3 years ago

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Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

Taglist | Form

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A few who might be interested! @thepoisonofgod @absurdthirst @highsviolets @astroboots

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #boxer!din #the mandalorian smut #mando smut #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #mando x you #pedro pascal #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfic #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfic #star wars smut #star wars fic #star wars fanfic

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arospecsyourblockdudes · 3 years ago

Text

This would mark the last time the Southlands came together.

By nightfall, all that remained were Martyn and Grian. The latter had slipped off from the rest of the red names, back to the South. There, he carried the bodies of Jimmy and Mumbo back within its charred walls and lay them down.

He wasn’t well-versed in the art of burial. They were heavier than expected and after dragging them inside he was too tired to do any digging. Going red will do that to you. Besides, people were missing

<Grian>: Martyn, can you bring Impulse back home

<Grian>: Not a trap, I promise

<InTheLittleWood>: If you attack, you know I won’t hesitate to take you out

<Grian>: I know

<InTheLittleWood>: Be right there

Everyone was on edge tonight. There had been so much destruction and so much death. Grian still had a lingering nausea from the Wither. Little funerals were happening all over the map. Grian just felt lucky he had somebody to be with him as he held this one.

About an hour later, Martyn came staggering across the bridge, carrying Impulse’s body over his shoulders. Grian ran to help with it, and together they laid him next to the others.

“Etho wasn’t there. Snow Castle was completely empty.” Martyn said, keeping his eyes on the trampled grass. “Kinda creepy, really.”

“Yeah, it’s always been pretty loud.” Grian nodded vaguely. “Makes sense though. Pretty destroyed.”

Martyn just nodded and went to rummage through their collective mess of chests. “We got any half decent shovel in here?”

“I’ve got an iron one here.” Grian pulled it out of his inventory to show. “Couldn’t say about anywhere else. Could always do with some stone ones.”

“True.” Martyn pulled a couple chipped stone shovels out of the chests and looked around. “Where are we thinking?”

Grian surveyed the area. “I don’t know.” He blinked hard, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Just in the middle here maybe?”

Martyn nodded once more and got to work, Grian joining him shortly after. It was nice, to lose himself in the work. The rhythm of digging up the ground, the sound of the shovels breaking dirt, the physical exertion. They didn’t speak, the only time one of them broke their silence was Martyn cursing as his shovel broke. In what felt like five minutes or maybe an hour, they had three graves dug. It was messy and maybe not as deep as they wanted, but beggars can’t be choosers.

The silence continued as they picked up a body and put them down. One by one, Grian would hold the legs and Martyn would get the shoulders. Lot less heavy when you’ve got two people. First Impulse, then Jimmy, then Mumbo, buried in the ground.

“Do we want to do grave markers?” Martyn spoke up for the first time in an hour (maybe). “Like…I don’t know, rocks or something?”

“Yeah, could do.” Grian walked by the wall till he found some loose rocks, just about mid size. He rolled them over and placed them at the head of the graves. Martyn rolled a couple pieces of charcoal out of the firepit with a wood sword, and scrawled their names with the ash.

“Anything to say?” Martyn stood up, brushing his hands up. His voice was steady, but Grian could see him blinking away tears. Good to know that Martyn wasn’t totally unaffected by the losses, however much he might like to act it.

“Yeah, might as well.” Grian shrugged and hoped it came off nonchalant. He sat down in front of the graves and took a deep breath. “I guess, uh. I’m not too sorry for killing Timmy and Mumbo, they were trying to get me killed. I will miss them. Even though Mumbo immediately tried to blow us all up and Timmy ran off with a life. I never hated them, and honestly I just wished we could’ve been a team again. I’m sorry for Impulse, that we never got to have that again. I think he really never got that we were done. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help him before he fell or got shot or….any of it. I hope wherever they’re at now it’s better than this.”

Martyn placed a hand on his shoulder, and Grian wiped tears from his face. He didn’t even care if Martyn saw.

“I guess I’ll go.” Martyn sat down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Timmy and Mumbo did try to kill us, they had it coming. Impulse did nothing to deserve it, the poor man. He was always keeping us decently on track. Timmy and Mumbo were always…themselves, I guess? Definitely not keeping us on track. But you gotta love ‘em anyway. Even red, even trying to explode us, you could tell it was all them. Which is nice in some ways. Hope they’re resting easy.”

After that, they went back to their silence. Just sat like that for a good long while. At some point, Grian broke down crying which set Martyn off as well, so they just held each other.

“Thanks for trusting me.” Grian whispered, wiping his eyes. “I wouldn’t have wanted to do this by myself.”

“Don’t blame you.” Martyn nodded. “I think it’s a truce type of night. Everyone’s got someone to bury, pretty much.”

And that was the truth of it. There were little funerals just like this being held all over the map. Grudges and bloodlust were being held off to pay respects to mutual fallen friends.

And when the sun started to rise over the horizon, Martyn and Grian finally left the Southlands and went their separate ways.

#last life smp #last life spoilers #anyway fellow lgbts how are we doing today #I’m in pain as you can see

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sanguinescorpios · 3 years ago

Text

Still Alive

dream x f!reader

PART ONE

summary | Just under 20 years ago, the world slipped from humanity’s grasp and fell into the lap of mutant creatures. While most humans hid from the variants, some, like reader, grew restless in the bases they grew up in and needed out. What will happen when reader realizes that she doesn’t stand a chance in the wild on her own, and can something deeper blossom from a survival-based alliance?

warnings | none!

word count | 1.7k

I had never seen a flower before. At least, not that I could remember. Things like that didn’t exist within the confines of the city walls, the beautiful, living things. The things that reminded you you were alive. My gaze fixated on the object before I even knew what I was looking at. Its petals swirled with pinks and purples, hues I had only seen in worn-out wool and peeling paint. Deep emerald leaves adorned a similarly colored stem, all woven together intricately and standing out amidst the field of brown. I marveled at the plant, bending down to hold it delicately between two fingers. It was incredible, even better than in photographs.

I spent months looking through the old textbooks Zoe had found, simply admiring the anatomy of different flowers and plants from the Old World. She was so excited to show me. I can still picture her jumping up and down as she entered my room in her tattered sports jersey and two-sizes-too-big jeans, a huge stack of books cradled like a child in her arms. Her tight curls were always pulled up into two buns, perfectly placed on the top of her head and bouncing with her childlike movements. I had quirked up an eyebrow at her as she wordlessly dropped her findings on my cot with a thump.

“Books,” she had said, looking at me with a newfound glimmer in her eye, “textbooks. We can learn!”

There was plenty of other information in those textbooks, but the flowers fascinated me. They caught my attention not just for their beauty, but for their mechanics, too. As I read, I began to appreciate how their roots anchored them to the earth, how their stems acted as passageways for water and nutrients, how they came in so many shapes, shades, and sizes. I wanted to know everything I could about them. I had always been that way, I guess.

A nearly foreign feeling emerged in me as a smile curled its way onto my face. The muscles were rusty from a long hibernation and they weren’t sure how to react to the sudden use. Dust found its way into my eyes as my cheeks rose with the grin, so I brushed it away quickly. That, I was used to.

“A cosmos,” I said to no one but myself. Of course, it was a cosmos.

The world before me was barren, a bleak expanse of land that seemed to never end. How the fuck was I supposed to survive out here? Despite my extensive studying, I wasn’t necessarily well-versed in survival. I had no protection out here, no roof over my head, and no soldiers with weapons on watch for intruders, or worse, for variants. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought. Variants were the one thing I knew almost nothing about, despite how hard I tried to get information from the watchmen and neighboring families. In all honesty, we didn’t know much about them, just that they didn’t seem to like us too much. One week the world was our terrain and the next it was theirs. I had never met one and I wasn’t planning on doing so, but I no longer had control over that. I chose to leave and there was no turning back.

That didn’t make it any less terrifying.

Adjusting my pack on my back, I grabbed my flask and poured a bit of water over the stubborn flower.

“Hope we make it, little guy.”

One last look at the distant confines I used to call home, then I was walking again, this time never turning back.

. . .

As it turns out, walking across one huge expanse of dust and dirt isn’t very fun! In fact, it’s fucking brutal. I had no idea where I was going, that much was clear not even ten minutes into the journey. Leave the city, that was my only plan. A shit plan, in hindsight. I reached into one of the many pockets of my pack and pulled out my water bottle. Last sip, that’s not good. If I could just go a little longer and reach the forest, I’d be okay. Much of the landscape had been torn apart over the years, but there were still occasional patches of green, at least that’s what I had been told. Just a little farther, surely I would reach it soon.

The hours dragged on, all melding together into one blurry week of sleeping in a ripped tent in the middle of nowhere and barely eating or drinking. When my eyes focused on a small dot of green in the distance, I nearly brought my hands up to rub the mirage from them, but I knew better than to do anything like that before washing. Especially after the week I’ve had, too much dust and not enough water.

I had been preparing for my lunch break when I spotted it, excited to get my hands on my tenth granola bar of the week. All desire for a break left my body, replaced by the desperate need to get to that forest before nightfall. There could be water in there, shelter, food, the possibilities were endless. I picked up my pace, feet moving with fervor despite my obvious exhaustion. My pack threatened to slip off my back, but I ignored it.

I reached the edge of the forest by nightfall, a shudder running through me at the thought of spending the night alone in the dense environment. Anyone or anything could be living here, and they could be hungry. The ground didn’t feel safe, too open and vulnerable of a place to sleep, but the sliver of moonlight shining down on me wasn’t enough to find anywhere else. This would have to do.

A few restless hours passed before I had finally fallen into a deep sleep, my back pressed uncomfortably against a tree and my pack serving as a makeshift pillow. I didn’t bother to set up camp, figuring I’d pick up and move in the morning anyways. I expected to get a few good hours of sleep at least, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, I was shaken awake by unfamiliar hands and a gruff voice.

“Get the fuck up,” the voice barked as my eyes adjusted to the morning light, peering up at the shaded figure looming over me.

“Wha-what?”

“Get. The fuck. Up.” The figure grabbed my pack from underneath my head and I groaned at the rude awakening. In my early morning haziness, I barely questioned the individual’s orders. My body moved before my brain told it to, pulling itself out of the fetal position and standing up, unsteady but sturdy enough.

As I rose to my feet, I took a good look at the person for the first time. He stood tall, towering over my frame with long legs and broad shoulders. Underneath his hood, a mask shielded most of his face from me; it looked to be made of some sort of wood and with the jagged smile that was carved into it, it was borderline terrifying. Dark blond hair toppled out and around the thing, curling messily at the ends. He sported muted green cargo pants and a thick belt bearing a multitude of knives and other weapons I didn’t even want to imagine. A black T-Shirt spread across his torso, strong arms emerging from the sleeves and gloved hands gripping a satchel against his hip. If this went south, I was outmatched.

“What made you think sleeping on the ground was a good idea?” he hissed out a few minutes later as he led me through the trees, taking angry steps at least two yards ahead of me.

“I didn’t have many other options,” I responded simply, not sure what he wanted from me and still groggy with sleep.

“Well, you picked the stupidest option.”

I rolled my eyes, who did this guy think he was? Sure, the ground wasn’t the smartest choice, but it was all I had! I huffed, kicking at a rock as he stopped to check...something — who knows what he was doing.

“You got a name, mask boy?”

He shushed me, holding up his index finger as he looked around at our surroundings.

“It was just a question-”

“Dream,” he cut me off, “now shush.”

He said it simply, like it wasn’t the most absurd name anyone had ever heard, and went right back to surveying the space around us. I poked my head around at him, trying and failing to get this mystery man’s attention.

“Is that your real name?” I inquired, making awkward eye contact with the mesh-covered eyeholes of his mask and wishing I could see his face when he answered. Maybe then I’d know if he was bluffing or not. Or if he planned on killing me.

“It’s what you’ll call me.”

There was a finality in the way he said it, a sternness in his voice that I wasn’t about to argue with. A beat passed in utter silence, me waiting for him to continue the conversation and him already three steps ahead of me on the path. Dream isn’t a chatty guy, noted.

I jogged to catch up to him, slowing as I reached his side. He didn’t seem like he was going to kill me as soon as night fell on the already dark forest, but keeping him in my sight was the safest bet.

“You’re not gonna ask my name?” He turned to face me, raising an eyebrow and bobbing his head as if to say ‘go on’. I gave him my name and he grunted in response — men.

He persevered through the forest, cutting away branches and leaving a green mess in our wake. I had no idea where we were going or why I was following his lead so easily, but he seemed confident and I trusted his confidence more than my own.

“So…” I dragged on, twiddling my thumbs and shooting him a look, “do we have a plan here or are we just gonna wander for the next five hours of daylight?”

He rolled his eyes, letting out an “ugh” as he pushed through another set of leaves. I wasn’t wrong; the sun would be setting soon, and based on how he reacted this morning, he wasn’t a night owl.

“Our camp is set up a few miles north. We should get there before nightfall.”

Did he say our?

#dreanwastaken #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken fanfic #mcyt writing

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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years ago

Text

stuck with you (through bright and blue)

Prompts: Protective

Word Count: 4,400

Characters: The squad

Timeline: Pre-movie movie!verse

Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, Toxic Friendship

Summary: Kai only wants two things: to protect Lloyd, and to give him the best birthday ever. Unfortunately, Lloyd seems hell-bent on making that as difficult as possible. Kai’s always prided himself on achieving the impossible, but dealing with human emotions is much more complicated than beating up Garmadon’s generals or shooting enemies with fire, as he quickly learns. Movie!verse

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Tumblr work under the cut

��Woah, it looks like a massacre in here.”

At the sound of Cole’s voice, Kai, Jay, Lloyd, and Zane looked up from the map they had sprawled out across the table. Red pen was everywhere, circling different buildings and connecting them with lines.

“We’re having trouble finding a venue for Lloyd’s party,” Zane explained.

Nya rolled her eyes. “It’s not that hard! Just pick somewhere!” She held a hand out, shaking her phone. “We have five days until his birthday. Most places require at least that many to book a reservation. If we don’t decide today, we’ll have nowhere to go.”

“We can’t just pick anywhere,” Kai insisted. “It has to be perfect!”

“Why don’t we just go to the arcade?”

“It’s always so busy there.”

“It’s a Wednesday night! How many people are going to be there?”

“Trust me,” Jay said, “It’s still busy. It always is.”

Cole peered at the map. “Why’d you cross off the movie theater? Isn’t there a new Starfarer movie Lloyd’s been wanting to see?”

Kai shook his head. “Tickets sold out in like five hours. By the time school was over and we got over there, they were all gone.”

Jay frowned, running his fingers along one of the major streets. “What’s your favorite restaurant, Lloyd?”

“A restaurant? Are you serious?” Cole laughed. “We’d get kicked out in ten minutes.”

“Why can’t we just do it at my place?” Lloyd murmured. “I don’t need anything big deal.”

Kai frowned. “Your apartment isn’t that big, Lloyd. And I don’t want to bother your mom with all the decorations and stuff.”

Lloyd shrugged, looking down. “It doesn’t need to be big.”

“If you really want something simple,” Nya said, “why don’t we just do it at the warehouse? It’ll just be us, but there’s lots of space.”

Zane nodded. “That space would suffice. We would just have to ask Master Wu.”

“That is, if you’re certain that’s what you want.” Nya looked at Lloyd closely. “You sure you don’t want to do anything else?”

Lloyd nodded.

“Positive, bud?” Kai pushed. “Because it’s your birthday. We don’t mind at all.”

“I’m fine,” Lloyd insisted, getting to his feet. “It’s just another day on the calendar. Don’t make such a big fuss.”

The ninja fell silent.

“Lloyd,” Nya murmured, “it is a big deal to us.”

“Sorry. I’m just tired. And I’ve got homework. I should go.”

“Lloyd, wait-”

The green ninja pulled away from Kai’s outstretched hand. “I’m fine, Kai. I just have to go. Call me if you need anything.”

---

When they went back to school on Monday, their teachers loaded them with assignments, and Kai didn’t have a spare minute to talk to Lloyd in their shared classes. He couldn’t even talk at lunch because Lloyd had to make up a test. He kept his eyes peeled for his friend every time he was in the hallways, but if there was one thing Lloyd was good at, it was not being seen.

At the end of the school day, Nya texted him to meet up near their lockers. He got there and found her huddled around her locker with Cole, Jay, and Zane.

Kai walked over to them. “What’s going on? Where’s Lloyd?”

“He said he’d catch up with us later, which is why now is the perfect time for party preparation,” Jay said, gesturing towards Nya, who had a fiercely determined look on her face and was tightly clutching a clipboard. “Apparently she’s been waiting her whole life for this.”

“Alright.” Nya looked up from her clipboard. “I’ve already got streamers and gift wrap at home. What about you guys?”

“I’ve got a banner ordered with his name on it,” Cole said. “And of course, the shark tablecloths-”

Jay blinked. “Sharks?”

“Yeah. He loves sharks.”

“No, no, no, you’ve got it all wrong! We’re getting the dragon ones! He loves dragons!”

“Well, yeah, duh, but he’d obviously like the shark one better.”

“Are you kidding? Sharks would remind him of his dad’s mechs!” “Yeah, well, dragons remind him of his mech, which also reminds him of fighting his dad.”

“Totally not the same, plus dragons are way cooler-”

“Okay, we’re going with the Starfarer ones, then,” Nya grumbled. “What about balloons? Who’s covering-”

“I have balloons,” Zane interrupted. “Two hundred and seventy-five of them.”

They gawked at him.

“Zane… why do you have so many balloons just lying around?” Jay asked.

“They are new! In the package! I can blow them up for Lloyd’s birthday party-”

“Shhhhh!” Four pairs of hands immediately pushed over his mouth, silencing him, even though they were the only ones in the very empty hallway.

“No one can find out,” Cole insisted. “This is Lloyd’s special day. We’re not about to let anyone ruin it.”

“Okay, so Zane’s got the balloons.” Nya ticked another item off the list. “What about the cake? I have most of the ingredients to make one at home, but I’m completely lacking the baking skills.”

Cole nodded. “I can bake a cake. What’s his favorite kind?”

“Lloyd likes that Funfetti one,” Kai murmured.

Cole’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not baking a box mix. I can get him the rainbow sprinkles, though, and make a homemade one.”

“Okay, sounds good. Jay, could you pick up some confetti before his birthday? And Zane, we need some fun paper plates.”

“Zane, you should get shark ones.”

“No, dragons!” “Zane will pick out whichever plates he likes,” Nya snapped.

“What about gifts?” Jay asked. “What are you guys getting?”

“I’m not telling you,” Nya yelped. “I have the best gift ever and I don’t want you stealing any ideas.”

“I’ve been setting aside pieces of my allowance for a month,” Cole grinned. “It’s gonna be sweet.”

Jay blinked at him expectantly, and Cole smirked. “I’m not telling you, either, blabbermouth.”

“Blabbermouth?” he yelped. “I can keep secrets perfectly fine, thank you.”

“Oh yeah? What about that time you nearly gave away all of our ninja identities?”

“Or-” Zane added, “when he and Lloyd were working on those surprise mech upgrades and he accidentally said something in front of Kai and Nya?”

“Oh, remember when he spoiled the finale of Cole’s favorite show?” Nya grinned. “Cole was pissed.”

“Okay, okay, so there were a few times,” Jay spluttered. “But those were a while ago! I have many more secrets that I have kept than I haven’t.”

Cole crossed his arms, smirking. “Name one.”

“Well, there was that one time, where I- hey!” He stopped, glaring at Cole. “You’re trying to trick me into telling you a secret!”

“And it very nearly worked. So no. You can’t know.”

Nya shrugged. “Sorry, Jay. He’s right. When you have a secret, you get nervous. And when you’re nervous, you talk. A lot. It would only be a matter of time before you spilled everything to Lloyd.”

“Fine,” Jay muttered. “Keep your secrets.”

Kai jumped slightly as Nya elbowed him, and she frowned. “You okay? You’ve been really quiet.”

Kai shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Is it just me, or… did Lloyd seem like he doesn’t really want a birthday party?”

The others went quiet.

“We’re not going to not give him a party,” Nya insisted. “You know how he gets. He never wants anyone to make a fuss.” Her brow furrowed. “It’s like he still can’t get it into his skull that we care about him.”

“I mean, of course I want to, it’s just… we can’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want.” Kai bit his lip. “It’s been a rough past few months for him. I just want him to be happy.”

“We all do,” Cole agreed. “Lloyd deserves a night just about him, for once.”

Zane frowned. “But how are we supposed to give him the party that he wants if he won’t tell us what he wants?”

“Let me try to talk to him,” Kai said. “He might open up more if it’s just one of us there.”

---

Lloyd, in fact, did not want to talk.

He was more open during their classes the next day, and held casual conversation with him, but forcefully avoided the topic of his birthday whenever Kai brought it up.

He huffed with frustration. What kind of kid didn’t want to celebrate their birthday? He wished Lloyd would just tell him what was going on.

He wasn’t going to, though, so naturally, the next best thing was to follow him.

He wouldn’t call it spying- just finding another way of obtaining information when Lloyd refused to give it himself. Besides, he was doing this to help Lloyd, not to hurt him.

Kai jerked himself out of his thoughts as Lloyd nearly slipped from his view. He gritted his teeth, refocusing on him. Lloyd wasn’t an easy person to follow, either.

When he finally caught up to him, keeping a reasonable distance, of course, Lloyd was hovering near his locker. An unfamiliar, dark-haired kid was leaning against it, laughing at something as Lloyd smiled uneasily. Kai edged closer, his frown deepening.

“Where’s the spike head? And the rest of your gang?”

“Kai?” Lloyd shifted. “I dunno. He probably had homework and stuff to do.”

The guy shrugged. “I kind of found him annoying, anyway. You realize no one could ever get to you when your friends were around, right?”

“I guess that’s… kind of the point.”

“You can’t spend your whole life letting them protect you. If you block out any person who hurts you, you block out anyone who could potentially be a friend, too.” The guy smiled in a way that made Kai wanted to chuck himself between Lloyd and the guy.

“That’s… that’s the thing. No one wants to be nice to me.”

“Spare me the sob story,” the guy rolled his eyes. “I know your dad sucks, but at least you have one.”

Lloyd flinched. “Sorry.”

The guy laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder and shoving him. “Stop being so jumpy, will ya? No wonder kids pick on you, you’re as harmless as a flea.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Lloyd blinked. “I can’t hit them back, or I’ll be in more trouble than I already am.”

“You don’t need to hit them, just show them you’re not a total coward! Maybe if you actually listen to them instead of cringing away, things might change.”

“Listen to them? Are you saying they’re right?”

“What does it matter if they’re right? Look, Lloyd, you’ve already got it hard enough as it is, and you’re making everything more difficult. You’d be so much cooler if you actually hung out with important people and not the outcast-losers you’ve stationed yourself with.”

For the first time since the conversation had started, Lloyd appeared indignant. “They’re not- I mean, you’re not-”

The guy laughed. “See? You can’t even get a word out. You’re so pathetic. You don’t even need the fact that you’re Garmadon’s son to get picked on, you already got it all set up for the torment-”

Kai wasn’t aware of himself pushing forward, he just was, and suddenly he was gripping the guy by the collar of his shirt, a pair of wide, brown eyes staring fearfully up into his.

“Who do you think you are and what the hell are you doing?”

“I… um, I…” the guy swallowed, his throat running dry.

“You treating my best friend like a piece of shit?” Kai shook him. “Are you?”

“I’m sorry!” The guy squirmed. “I didn’t really mean it, we were just joking around, he says that kind of stuff to me all the time!”

“Really? Lloyd. Says that. You sure we’re talking about the same person? Because I do not take nicely to liars.”

The guy squirmed harder. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! Just please let me go, I’ll never bother you again!” Kai shot him the fiercest glare he could muster. “You better not.” He stepped back, dropping the kid, and he took off like a bullet.

Turning back to Lloyd, he saw his friend was staring at the fleeing boy with wide, disbelieving eyes, but it quickly dissipated to anger as he turned to Kai. “What the heck did you do that for?”

Kai’s eyes widened. “I was protecting you? From a bully?” Lloyd’s eyes flashed, and Kai actually took a step back. “I don’t need you to protect me! I can fight my own battles!”

Before Kai could even say anything, Lloyd was storming down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

Kai just stood there for a moment, in shock. What was that all about? Hadn’t he done the same thing for Lloyd a dozen times? Why would defending him ever be bad?

A buzz in his pocket interrupted his thoughts. Kai pulled out his phone to see a new message in the chat from his sister.

irondragonfangirl: how r things going with lloyd

MasterofFiyaaaaa: honestly? i think i made it worse

irondragonfangirl: well u better find a way to fix it soon because his bday’s TOMORROW

MasterofFiyaaaaa: yeah i’ll find a way through to him

MasterofFiyaaaaa: i just hope he listens

irondragonfangirl: don’t worry

irondragonfangirl: he will

irondragonfangirl: just make sure u remember to listen to him too

irondragonfangirl: i have a feeling we haven’t been doing that enough

irondragonfangirl: i feel terrible

MasterofFiyaaaaa: yeah me too

MasterofFiyaaaaa: we’ll make it up to him though

MasterofFiyaaaaa: right?

irondragonfangirl: sure as long as cole doesn’t burn this cake

irondragonfangirl: seriously y did we let him bake it

irondragonfangirl: if i dont respond in the next hour just assume his house burnt down and im dead

MasterofFiyaaaaa: can i have your motorcycle if you die

irondragonfangirl: shut up

---

Kai spent an hour looking for Lloyd after their confrontation, but he couldn’t find him anywhere, and Lloyd, unsurprisingly, hadn’t answered any of the twenty-some texts Kai had sent him, either. Eventually, he had to give up looking for him and resigned to speaking to him at school tomorrow.

His birthday.

In the first class they had together, Lloyd avoided looking at him, and Kai felt an ache in his chest. Today was his birthday. He knew things weren’t going to turn out like he had imagined, but he wanted them to at least be better than this.

Swallowing back his nerves, Kai walked over to him, where he was doodling something in his notebook.

Kai cleared his throat. “Um. Lloyd?”

Lloyd looked up, an expression flashing across his face that Kai couldn’t read, but he didn’t immediately leave or turn away from him, which Kai took as a good sign.

“Happy birthday, dude.”

Lloyd smiled tentatively back. “Thanks.”

Things didn’t go immediately back to normal after that- there was still a tension between them, and Lloyd wasn’t saying much more than a couple sentences at a time, firmly avoiding the topic of the previous day- but at least it was back to a level where Kai didn’t feel absolutely horrible for ruining his day. Lunch, at least, got a smile out of him- as well as a bunch of embarrassed blushing as Nya stabbed a candle into his brownie (they couldn’t actually light it, lighters weren’t allowed on campus) and they insisted on singing to him so off-key that Cole looked like he wanted to punch them.

When the last bell finally rang, Kai headed over to Lloyd’s locker, hoping they could talk now that there weren’t other kids around, but he wasn’t there.

Kai relented, pulling out his phone.

MasterofFiyaaaaa: Lloyd? i know youre upset but can we plz talk?

He held his breath, staring at the screen intensely, as if that would make Lloyd respond.

While he was waiting, a message from a group chat popped up.

irondragonfangirl: what’s taking so long jay, we need those decorations

jaybird123: eta 5 mins

jaybird123: i literally just left class how’d you get there so fast

jaybird123: wait you didn’t use the tunnels did you

irondragonfangirl: no me and cole are bringing the CAKE remember?

irondragonfangirl: im not taking that through the tunnel

irondragonfangirl: we didnt spend 3 hrs on that for it to get squished

irondragonfangirl: i told the nurse i wasn’t feeling well so i could go home early

irondragonfangirl: why didnt YOU take them

jaybird123: i couldn’t exactly discreetly smuggle all these decorations into my locker

jaybird123: mmm cake. is it good?

irondragonfangirl: don’t even THINK about it, that’s not until Lloyd gets here

jaybird123: but im hungryyyy

jaybird123: do i need to pick up anything for dinner?

rock’n’cole: nah it’s cool, we just found out lloyd’s favorite chinese restaurant, the Bamboo Dragon, delivers so we’re gonna order from there

jaybird123: my mouth is watering already

ZaneJulien:0xD;): Jay, you shouldn’t text while driving.

jaybird123: tell nya to get off my case then!

irondragonfangirl: exCUSE me zane you are supposed to be putting up those balloons right now why are YOU on your phone

ZaneJulien:0xD;): Why are you texting me? We are in the same room.

irondragonfangirl: why are YOU texting ME

rock’n’cole: would you guys just stop being dumb and come help me

irondragonfangirl: great now you got cole in on it too

rock’n’cole: would you two just GET OFF YOUR PHONES

Kai was interrupted from whatever turn the conversation was going to take next when he finally got another notification.

thegreendragon: ok. you know where i’ll be

Kai blinked, turning towards the doors and pushing through them, walking out onto the school lawn. The main feature was the football stadium, although there were other things as well- large trees, garden patches for the science classes, picnic tables for eating lunch outside, if the weather permitted. And- although the students were too old for recess, now- there was still a small swing set- a simple, rusty thing, with only two swings, but it served its purpose. Sitting on one of them, gently rocking, was Lloyd.

Kai made his way over, sitting down beside him in the other swing.

“So, uh… can we talk? About yesterday?”

Lloyd nodded, and Kai titled his head at him, trying to gauge his thoughts. “Who was that kid?”

Lloyd breathed out slowly. “His name is Brad. He was my best- and only- friend in elementary school, but we were separated when I moved away. Brad’s family just recently moved to Ninjago City, and I… I was hoping to reconnect with him.”

Kai ignored the twinge of jealousy at the words “best friends.” Lloyd was allowed to have other people than him in his life, and things had obviously changed since then, anyway.

“I’m sorry, Lloyd. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, but from what I saw… Brad was being a jerk to you.”

Lloyd shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I… he’s changed since we were kids. The efforts at rekindling our friendship honestly aren’t going so well. That’s… that’s why I was in a bad mood. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were only trying to do something nice for me.” “Don’t worry about me. But this Brad kid… anyone who treats you like that doesn’t deserve to be your friend.”

“I know, I just…” Lloyd sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I was so eager to make a friend other than you guys…” His eyes widened as he processed his own words. “Not there’s anything wrong with you guys, it’s just- I just wanted to actually earn someone who wasn’t friends with me because of a shared occupation.”

Kai elbowed him. “Hey. This whole ninja thing may be what got us introduced to each other, but we’re not friends with you because you’re one of the ninja. We’re your friends because we love you as a person. As Lloyd, not the green ninja.”

Lloyd sniffed, giving him a soft smile. “Thanks, Kai. I’m glad I have you to protect me.”

“You don’t need protection, but you’re stuck with me as a best friend, so you’re going to get it, anyway.”

Lloyd laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His phone buzzed, and he quickly checked it.

irondragonfangirl: the party’s all set up, now the only thing missing is lloyd. did you get to talk to him?

MasterofFiyaaaaa: yeah, we’re cool now. on our way

Kai turned back to Lloyd. “C’mon, green machine. Let’s go enjoy your birthday.”

Lloyd blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Your party, remember? The one Nya and the guys have spent the whole week planning? Or is there some other celebration I don’t know about?”

Lloyd shook his head. “No, no, it’s just- I thought I messed it all up.”

“Don’t worry, we got it under control.”

“Really?”

“This is our teammates you’re talking about! Stubborn as mules. They’re not giving up on you that easily.”

“I… thank you. Thank you guys.”

“You can tell them yourself. We’re going to this party, and we’re going to have fun!”

---

Kai had to admit, he was impressed with what the others had been able to pull off in such a short amount of time.

It was nothing huge or extravagant, but it was a nice little party, and Lloyd seemed to like it better like that, anyway.

They were barely through the doors of the warehouse when Jay was launching himself into Lloyd’s arms, pulling him into a tight hug, the others close behind.

“Happy birthday!” they cheered.

Lloyd hugged them back, laughing. “Thanks, guys, I didn’t- I didn’t expect all this!”

“Are you kidding?” Nya put her hands on her hips, grinning. “We’re pulling out all the stops for our baby bro.”

Lloyd’s smile briefly flickered to a scowl. “I’m not a baby.”

“To us, you always will be,” Kai said, slinging an arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair. Lloyd squirmed away, although he was unable to hide the grin on his face.

“Wow, this place really looks different.” Lloyd gazed around at the warehouse with wide eyes. They had pushed aside training equipment to make room for tables and chairs, and green and gold streamers decorated the walls, adorned by multicolored balloons. Someone had plugged a gaming console into the TV, as well as a DVD player next to a box of DVDs- which must’ve been Jay’s, he was the only person Kai knew, apart from Master Wu, who even had DVDs anymore- because Kai still hadn’t been able to convince Master Wu to buy them Netflix on the warehouse’s TV, getting the TV there in the first place had been hard enough as it was. On the far end was a buffet table, filled with rice, chicken, dumplings, and other Chinese staples from the Bamboo Dragon- as well as a beautiful, heavily frosted cake in the center of it all. It was decorated with rainbow sprinkles, making it completely and uniquely Lloyd.

Lloyd’s eyes were on the cake too, his eyes wide. “Cole! It looks amazing! I never knew you were so good at making cakes!”

Cole shrugged, trying to hide his smile. “I’ve had some experience.”

“Hey! What makes you think Cole made it?” Nya sniffed.

Cole blinked. “I did.”

“Well, I helped.”

Cole snorted. “Don’t know if you could call it that. From my point of view, it seems like I was doing most of the work while you were busy texting your boo.”

Both Nya and Jay turned scarlet.

“I was not,” Nya spluttered. “I was making preparations for Lloyd’s party!” “Yeah, yeah, whatever you have to tell yourself.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions too hastily,” Jay said, turning to walk over to the cake. “The true judge of quality will be how good it tastes.”

Nya stuck an arm in front of him. “Not so fast, mister! Dinner first.”

After laughing, playing games, and eating, they insisted on opening presents. Lloyd was all smiles and gratitude with each one, which ended up sparking a debate between the others about whose gift he liked best.

“He totally loved my gift!” “Nuh-uh! Did you see the way he smiled a little differently on mine?”

“Jay, you literally gave him a book. Why would he be excited about that?”

“Not just any book! A first edition Starfarer collector’s comic from when my parents were kids, and in mint condition, too!”

“Why would you want some dusty old comic when you could have the newest Starfarer video game?” Kai argued. “It took forever for me to find one of these, they were sold out everywhere.”

“Starfarer this, Starfarer that,” Cole sighed. “I don’t understand how he could possibly need any more Starfarer things. The record I engraved for him is way more personable and unique.”

“You guys are thinking about this all wrong! You should’ve gotten him a katana like me, something that he actually needs and uses.”

“Statistically, Lloyd spends more time drawing than any other hobby,” Zane said. “Which means my gift of an art book and new set of pencils is logically the best fit.”

“Clearly you guys all have it wrong in the head-”

“Guys, relax,” Lloyd laughed. “I loved all your gifts equally.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Jay… it means exactly what you think it means.”

“You can’t even pick one gift?”

Lloyd shook his head. “No way. These are all amazing. Thank you, guys. Really.” His gaze met Kai’s for a long beat. “For everything.”

“Of course. But, just to make things clear, you did like mine the most, right? You’re just saying you liked them equally, so that you didn’t make the others feel bad?”

Lloyd smacked his forehead as the others burst into protest again, and Kai shot him a sharp-edged grin. “I can do this all night.”

Eventually, Lloyd got them to stop bickering- the mention of cake got them all quiet pretty quickly- and after divvying it up, they went over to the couch and played the video game Kai had gotten him. He quickly lost track of time, but time didn’t matter. Even if it meant they would be tired for school the next day, seeing Lloyd like this- half sprawled over his teammates, brow scrunched in concentration as he mashed buttons on his controller, hints of frosting on his lips as he tried and failed miserably to bite back his laughter- it was worth it. He looked happier than Kai had seen him in weeks.

For that, he could even contain himself from bragging about how Lloyd obviously liked his gift best.

#ninjago #ninbingo #my fic #rosie writes #ninjago kai #lloyd garmadon #ninjago nya #jay walker #ninjago cole #ninjago zane #HAPPY BIRTHDAY GREEN BEAN #I LOVE YOU SO MUCH #XD guys i got so excited about lloyd's big day #maybe i have a bit of a problem but shhhhhhhh #hope this did him tribute #tlnm #thanks for reading!#reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!

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carnationcreation · 4 years ago

Note

Can you do a Reggie x reader where the reader is Luke little sister and also in the band who been dating Reggie before they died behind her brother back . And now that they ghost Reggie out them which makes Luke and her fight . Then Luke doesn’t speak to her for awhile only to see how much the reader and reggie really love each other he apologizes then.

TITLE: Secrets (JATP Reggie x reader)

(Reggie x reader, Luke x sister!reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Request: yes!

Prompt/summary: Reader and Reggie were dating in 1995, what happens when her brother finds out in 2020?

Word Count: 1,295

Authors note: special thanks to my proofreaders, @dr-rigatoni

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

It had been two years of them dating in 1995 and Luke still hadn’t noticed.

Even after 25 years of them being dead, he still hadn’t noticed. (Y/n) counted that as an accomplishment. Her boyfriend Reggie did not like sneaking around, hiding their relationship from her brother, but the girl insisted, knowing what the consequences might be if they were caught.

“Why can’t we just tell him?”

“Reggie, I don’t want to come between you guys. You’re best friends; you’re my best friends. I don’t want to be the reason the band fights. We just need to be patient.”

After Julie got them back to the real world it was a hard adjustment. Apparently, 90’s fashion is considered cringey now. Luckily she could stay behind the scenes, helping write songs and edit videos.

“For a 42-year-old girl you sure can edit videos really well,” Julie laughed.

“This is amazing! If I had had this back in high school I would’ve been the most popular kid in school.”

“So,” Julie said flopping down on the bed, “what are you going to do about Reggie and Luke?”

(Y/) sighed, “I don’t know. I should tell him soon but there’s never a good time.”

“The longer you wait the angrier he’s going to be when he finds out.”

“I know,” (Y/n) put her head in her hands.

“You’ll figure it out, I know you can,” Julie said, ruffling (Y/n)’s hair as she walked away.

At least now when Reggie and (Y/n) snuck out it was easier yet harder at the same time. On one hand, they could teleport to anywhere they knew, on the other hand, so could Luke. They had to choose places he wouldn’t think to look and come up with game plans for if he accidentally showed up somewhere.

“Reggie,” (Y/n) giggled, “We have to go soon, the bands probably waiting on us.”

Reggie smiled as he placed a few more kisses on the girl’s face before grabbing her hand and teleporting back outside of the garage.

“Where have you two been?” Alex said, bringing Luke and Julie’s attention to the late band members walking through the door.

“Uhhh-”

(Y/n) spoke for him, “We went down to the boulevard to hang up flyers for this weekend's show. Like Julie asked me to.”

Julie’s eyebrows furrowed before she saw the mock flyers in the girl’s hand and decided to let it go.

“You two went alone?” Luke asked suspiciously.

“Yeah…” (Y/n) said quietly. Panic quickly rose in her mind as she tried to find another way out of this, “I- didn’t want to go alone! So Reggie offered to help me.”

She nudged the boy’s elbow telling him it was his turn, “Yeah! I mean, I just didn’t want her to be alone and have something happen.”

Luke seemed to accept that answer, “Next time I can go with you (Y/n).”

(Y/n) smiled before giving Reggie’s arm a squeeze and sitting down on the couch to watch practice.

A few days later the couple found themselves in a rather troubling situation.

Band practice had been going as normal for the most part. (Y/n), Julie, and Luke had all been working tirelessly on this new song and everyone was very happy with it.

(Y/n) leaned over to continue on a new verse, her hair fell down in her face and Reggie pushed it back behind her ear without a second thought.

The action didn’t go unnoticed by Luke.

“So,” he said, placing his guitar on the stand and leaning back in his chair, “When were you two gonna tell me?”

(Y/n) looked over at Reggie confused.

“What do you mean man?”

“I mean when were you going to tell me you had a thing for my little sister?”

Reggie's face went pale and (Y/n) started to blush.

Reggie finally spoke up, “Dude, why would you think that?”

“It all makes sense now, why you guys are always missing and come back together, why (Y/n) always saves a spot next to her for you at dinner, why you always look for her first in the crowd. I thought it was because you were best friends. Why would you go behind my back like this?”

Julie tried to step in, “Luke they-”

“Stop it,” he snapped, “I really don’t want to hear it.”

Luke stood up and disappeared from the room leaving a distraught (Y/n) and shocked Julie.

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

Following that incident, Luke refused to talk to Reggie or (Y/n). Most days (Y/n) had to excuse herself from practice to go and hide her tears in the bathroom of the garage. Reggie always came to check on her after practice.

When Julie walked in on Reggie holding a sobbing (Y/n) she finally snapped back.

“What did you say to her?” she said as she stormed back into the garage.

Luke looked up confused, “Who?”

“(Y/n)! She’s outside sobbing and I want to know what the heck you said to my best friend.”

“I just said I didn’t want to talk to someone who keeps secrets.”

Julie rolled her eyes, “So you’re just going to ignore the fact that you go to your parents’ house without telling her?”

“That’s different,” he scoffed as he put his guitar back into its stand.

“How is it any different?” Julie threw her hands up, “Your sister is out there heartbroken because what she did to try and protect the band is blowing up in her face. She only hid it from you because she didn’t want it to affect how you see Reggie! Luke, if you don’t fix this now I’m not coming to the next performance.”

Luke gawked as Julie turned on her heel and walked out.

When Luke finally came to his senses he left the garage in search of his sister. He found her in the driveway, being held by Reggie as tears ran down her face.

“Hey,” he said, Reggie looked up with a frown on his face, “Can I talk to (Y/n) for a minute?”

(Y/n) wiped the tears away with the back of her hand and nodded at her concerned boyfriend. Reggie gave her a kiss on the forehead as he left.

“(Y/n)...”

She sniffled and held back more tears, “Luke if you don’t want me around just say it. I won’t show up to practices anymore and-”

“That’s not what I want you to do.”

“Then what?” she looked up at him and his heart broke.

Standing in front of him was his little sister, the little sister he hurt by his own words.

“(Y/n), I’m so sorry. I acted so stupid. I promise I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I just don’t want you to be hurt by anyone.”

(Y/n) wiped her tears away, “You think Reggie would hurt me?”

“No! No. I just… I don’t want to have to beat up any boy for hurting you. I guess... if anyone’s going to be a good choice for you it would be him. I promise I won’t bother you guys about it anymore,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Promise?”

Luke nodded and wiped away his sister’s tears with his thumb. (Y/n) pulled him into a tight hug.

“Band practice is canceled!” Julie yelled.

(Y/n) turned to Luke and smiled.

“Go, you guys can go,” Luke said.

(Y/n) stood on her toes to kiss her brother on the cheek. Reggie walked down the steps, catching his girlfriend as she jumped into his arms. Both of them giggling.

Julie walked up to Luke, “You did good.”

“I hope so,” Luke sighed, “Cause it’d be a shame if I had to punch my best friend.”

Julie laughed, “They’ll be fine.”

Luke and Julie smiled as they watched the two run off hand in hand.

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

*If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name please message me!

Taglist: @thebookwormlife @talksoprettyjjx @coolreallyfuzzystudentuniverse @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @larrystylinson-sus @lovesanimals @aunicornmademedoit @thexhotmess @ssprayberrythings @registerednursejackie @nicolewithasoul @homealone200 @peachyxdream @catieiscute2001 @julieandthephantomsblogduh @fangirling-allday @ashleyleblancx @alltimekp @wcnderwoo @unipanda1006 @disgustedchild @aberette13 @dpaccione @whyworry27 @number-0-iz @musicconversedance @owlgirl1209 @angelxfics @hamdehlesmis @pressmansmultis @marinettepotterandplagg @idkanymoremansstuff @carleywhittaker @spooky-season-bitch @starkeysgirl @chenellearose @voguesir @thegirlwholikestomanythings @mandiscadelinha @joshy-obx @mochamiilk @caitsymichelle13 @kiss-themoongoodbye @noncannonships @intoanothermind @etherealexsistence @schnapp-my-neck @ficticiouscreativity @sunsetcurve-h @peresphoncs @lolychu @joshy-obx @mochamiilk @starenemy @caitsymichelle13 @noncannonships @cherrybombboom @itskindyl @heidimortensen123

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp reggie x reader #luke patterson imagine #jatp luke x sister!reader #jatp alex #jatp reggie #jatp luke #jatp julie #julie molina #luke patterson

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reallifesultanas · 3 years ago

Text

Portrait of Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş / Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş portréja

Origin and youth

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş was a woman of Greek descent who was certainly captured during the Venetian-Ottoman War. The grimace of fate is that the outbreak of the war was attributable to Mehmed IV, who later became Emetullah's sweetheart. In the summer of 1645, Ibrahim I declared war on Venice and sent a large Turkish army to Crete. The immediate cause of the war was that Maltese pirates captured an Ottoman ship carrying several influential people. Among them was the wet-nurse of Mehmed IV and her own son, whom Sultan Ibrahim I loved very much. So much that the he cared more with the wet-nurse's son than he did with his own child, Mehmed. The war lasted for decades, until 1669, so it is not possible to determine exactly when Emetullah was captured.

Emetullah was a gift from a certain Deli Hüseyn Pasha, who took the Cretan slaves he had captured to the Sultan’s palace and recommended the bests to the sultan’s harem. Deli Hüseyn Pasha died in 1659, so Emetullah definitely joined the harem before that time. This, unfortunately, does not help us, for considering that Emetullah was already a favorite of the Sultan in 1660 and this had to be preceded by several years of education, so most likely she was captured before 1654. Many give the year 1645 as captivity, however, this is almost ruled out. In general, children under the age of 5 were not caught, because they caused more trouble than benefit, and were more likely to die during the long and tumultuous journey. Assuming that Emetullah was roughly the same old — or younger — than Mehmed IV (born in 1642), she could have been captured in 1648 at the earliest.

The consort

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş matured into a beautiful young woman, making her perfectly suited to entertain the sultan. Emetullah is one of the few sultanas whose appearance is known in considerable detail. One of the ambassadors had the opportunity to see one of Emetullah's clothes and belts, on the basis of which he thought the Sultana was a taller-than-average but graceful. The same ambassador heard from his informant that the Sultana had fine skin and blue eyes. Other descriptions said she had black curly hair. Towards the end of her life, Emetullah was reportedly more plump than slender.

It is not known exactly when Mehmed started receiving concubines and when Emetullah became his favorite. Mehmed's first child, a girl, was born in 1660. According to circumstantial evidence, this girl, Hatice, was the first child of Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş. Based on this, we can assume that Emetullah became Mehmed’s partner in the late 1650s. However, their relationship had not really deepened at this point, as Mehmed spent the next period away from his harem, traveling a lot.

Shortly afterwards, the Sultan moved his entire court to Edirne, making it the de facto capital of the Empire. It was a perfect timing that his firstborn son, Mustafa, was born here in 1664. Mehmed was so happy for the birth of his son that he piled up the child’s mother, Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş, with amazing gifts and never left the woman alone from then on. He took her with him on his hunts and even on his campaigns. Together they had at least two more children, Ahmed (later Ahmed III) in 1673 and Fatma Emetullah in 1675. In addition to the four children mentioned above, Mehmed certainly had other children (Ayşe, Bayezid, Ümmügülsüm, Süleyman). The identity of their mother is unknown, it could have been Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş, but even other concubines.

As the Sultan’s favourit concubine, the mother of his children, Emetullah, was the second highest-ranking woman in the harem. Her relationship with the first woman of the harem is controversial. Some say Emetullah was an evil, violent woman who regularly confronted her mother-in-law, Mehmed’s mother, Turhan Hatice Valide Sultan. However, there is no evidence to that effect, in fact! Emetullah and Turhan certainly worked together periodically to achieve their political goals. In 1682, Grand Vizier Merzifonlu Kara Mustafa Pasha began to anger Turhan more and more, as he tried to make her political influence impossible. We don’t know what motivation Gülnüş was for, but she helped Turhan remove the pasha. Eventually, unfortunately, Turhan died before the pasha was deposed. Either way, this collaboration makes it unlikely that the relationship between Emetullah and Turhan would have been bad. In addition, Emetullah had a good relationship with Turhan’s eunuch, Yusuf Agha, which would also not have been possible if the two women did not like and respect each other.

Many blame Emetullah’s ambitions for the supposedly fragile relationship. Legend has it that Mehmed’s beloved, Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş, tried to persuade him to execute his half-brothers and make their own sons his heir instead. However, knowing the infinitely close relationship between Mehmed and his sons, we cannot rule out that Mehmed himself wanted to change the inheritance. Whoever was its inventor, no one supported the idea, not the people, not the pashas and not even Mehmed’s mother, Turhan. Turhan, to protect Prince Suleiman and Ahmed from death and his son from fall, always kept her two foster sons with her. If Turhan traveled, she took them with her so that Mehmed would not execute them in her absence.

Sultana on the campaigns

After the birth of Mustafa, the sultan did not want to go anywhere without Emetullah and his son. From then on, Emetullah accompanied her sweetheart everywhere, hence her nickname became, the "itinerant sultana". The first such campaign took place in 1672, when Mehmed took the whole harem of his, his mother, his Haseki, and his sisters to Polish territory. From this trip we are left with a description of an incident in which Emetullah’s silver carriage was stuck in the mud due to bad weather on the way to the Babadag camp. The sultan could not wait for hours for the carriage to be released, so Fazıl Ahmed Pasha, the Grand Vizier, was left with his men to help the Sultana. On August 28, 1672, Kamianets-Podilskyi fell and became the property of the Ottomans. Mosque were formed from all the churches in the city, one of which was named in honor of Gülnüş. With this she became the first and only Haseki Sultan to enjoy such a privilege.

They spent a few months near the front and then returned to Edirne. However, the agreement was crossed by the Polish, so in 1673 Mehmed was forced to return to the front and took his sweetheart with him again. This is particularly noteworthy and not just because the sultans had not taken their wives on the battlefield for centuries, but because Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş was already heavily pregnant with her second son. The baby was finally born during the campaign on 31 December 1673 at Hacıoglupazarı in present-day Bulgaria. This was the only time an Ottoman prince was born near the battlefield, away from the security of the capital or the provinces. The fact is, however, that this camp was also very far from the real war.

After the success of the Polish campaign, the Sultan retreated to Edirne, where in 1675 he organized a huge ceremony in which his two sons, Mustafa and Ahmed, were circumcised and his eldest daughter, Hatice, was married off. Mehmed's appearance was reported at the event, but many praised the princes and Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş, who attended the ceremony as well. According to one agha present, the Sultana was a beautiful woman with chesnut hair. It is questionable, of course, to what extent we can believe such descriptions, since her hair was certainly covered with a veil, even if she was present. Then in 1676 Mehmed embarked on another campaign - again, of course, with his sweetheart on his side - this time to match the Russians. The aim of the campaign was to rule over today's Ukrainian - then Polish - territories. Finally, in 1681, the campaign ended with an agreement.

The first woman in the harem and the fall

Whatever the relationship between Turhan and Emetullah was, with the death of Turhan in 1683, the road to the top of the harem opened up before Emetullah. Although her large-scale construction projects, as a Haseki, began during Turhan’s life, her political career could have really gained momentum only without Turhan. There is a known case, for example, in which one of Mustafa's teachers, Feyzullah Efendi, who was very close to Emetulla committed a mistake and was faced with severe punishment. Eventually, Emetullah intervened and saved the man's life.

However, Emetullah could not enjoy the control of the harem for long. The 1680s were about a series of tragedies. The enemies of the Ottoman Empire clashed in turn and squeezed the Ottomans more and more out of European territories. This caused general dissatisfaction, and then over time, chaos, executions, financial problems spread throughout the empire, more and more rebellions set in, and even natural disasters plagued the empire. Turhan's death was practically sealed the end of Mehmed IV also. He became increasingly unpopular, and suffered the final blow in 1687. After the tragic outcome of the second battle of Mohács, Mehmed was dethroned and his younger brother, Suleiman, was put to the throne, as Suleiman II. This meant Emetullah's move to the Old Palace.

Not only did Emetullah face the loss of her power and exile, but she was separated from her beloved. A member of Mehmed’s harem, the poet Afife Kadin, at this time composed one of her poems about Gülnüş. According to the verse, Gülnüş sobbed and shouted as long as her lungs could hold, while her loved one was torn away from her and locked up. While Mehmed sobbed quietly in the kafes, his beloved cried across the wall. In another verse of hers, Afife writes, "Tell Gülnüş to wear black / to suffer in pain / While Sultan Mehmed weeps in Şimşirlik" We do not know if Emetullah and Mehmed may have met until Mehmed's death in 1693.

Back to the top

Due to Süleyman II's ill condition, followed by the old Ahmed II, Emetullah did not have to linger in the Old Palace for long. In 1695, barely 8 years after her retirement, Emetullah was able to return as Valide Sultan. Ahmed II died in Edirne and Mustafa II took his place as Sultan. Emetullah was then in the Old Palace in Istanbul, so thats where she received the news. As part of a huge ceremony, Emetullah went from the Old Palace to Topkapi Palace and from there to Edirne. On the way to Edirne, several bridges had to be renovated before the Valide Sultan's arrival. The costs of the bridge-renovations were recorded in the registers as Ahmed II's funeral expenses. Arriving in Edirne, her son welcomed the new Valide Sultan.

In the following years Edirne remained the de facto capital of the Empire. The sultan spent only a short period of time in Istanbul with his court, and then they were not resided in Topkapi Palace either, but preferred other palaces. Mustafa and Emetullah quickly gathered their trustworthy men around them and began to rule according to their own tastes. Thus, for example, the Feyzullah Efendi who had previously been rescued from execution by Emetullah, became the Seyhülislam. During Mustafa's reign, Emetullah built an unprecedented power for herself, her all-intertwined political influence was huge and also her son openly discussed state affairs with her. In addition, Emetullah regularly showed up among the people, leaving the harem, visiting her daughters or foundations. She lived a fairly free life. So much that at certain events she stood right next to her son, veiled but not hiding. At other times, she welcomed Seyhülislam, Grand Vizier, or other influential statesmen openly or were present at parades in Eyüb.

Emetullah’s tremendous influence over her son, the rampant corruption among statesmen, and the neglect of Istanbul all provoked the displeasure of the people. In 1703 a huge revolt broke out in the capital, but it quickly reached Edirne as well. Emetullah provided good advice to her son, trying to quickly replace any statesman who might have harmed them, but it was too late. During the rebellion Mustafa II was dethroned. The rebels refused to ascend Mustafa's younger brother, Ahmed, as he was also the son of Emetullah. They wanted to replace Mustafa II with the 11-years-old Şehzade Ibrahim, the son of Ahmed II and his Haseki, Rabia Sultan . The ulema, however, rejected this based on the boy's age, and as a polite gesture a letter was written to Emetullah asking for permission to dethrone Mustafa and replace him with Ahmed III. Although she had no real say, Emetullah responded in agreement:"All of you have requested in concord and unanimity that my majestic son Sultan Ahmed be seated on the imperial throne and that my other son Sultan Mustafa be deposed. Your petition has been complied with."

However, the dethronement of Mustafa was far from enough for the rebels. Gülnüş was demanded to leave Edirne or Topkapi Palace and retire to the Old Palace. Emetullah did indeed remain there until the circumstances calmed down enough for her to return. Perhaps she did not even regret her retreat, for Mustafa, her firstborn son, died in December 1703 of natural causes.

Shadow Valide

The pashas tried to keep Gülnüş away from her son and from state affairs because they feared a revenge from Emetullah on Mustafa's dethronement and subsequent death. They feared they would face a revenge campaign like the pashas who in 1648 dethroned and executed the son of Kösem Sultan, Ibrahim I. In the meantime, however, it turned out that Gülnüş did not even think of revenge. She learned from her previous mistakes and from the end of the Kösem Sultan, so she was much more careful and respectful with the pashas from then on than before. There were rewards for this.

One of Ahmed III’s first steps was to take the imperial court back to Istanbul, so Edirne ceased to be the de facto capital. To increase the sultan’s popularity among the people of Istanbul, plenty of public events were organized, such as archery competitions. Of course Gülnüş tried to help her second son, Ahmed III, but she did it all from the background. However, her participation in political life is by no means conditional. Several letters have survived, which she exchanged with the pashas during Ahmed III's reign. When one of the Grand Vizier tried to have a say in which eunuch Gülnüş would appoint to lead the harem, he quickly found himself without a position. So Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş did not give up politics at all, only she played it in a smarter and less spectacularly way.

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş returned to the limelight once again. In 1709, during the war between the Russians and the Swedes, the Swedish king was captured and then found refuge in the Ottoman Empire. The king sought the help of the Ottomans to regain his throne. Emetullah, along with the second Vizier Damat Silahdar Ali Pasha, publicly stood by the king's request and tried to persuade Ahmed III to wage war against the Russians. The other members of the divan, such as the Grand Vizier, did not agree at all with Gülnüş's will, so a controversy ensued. Ahmed III finally, following the advice of his mother, went to war with the Russian Empire in 1711. The war ended with treaties.

Her death and legacy

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş followed her son from Istanbul to Edirne in the summer of 1715 to welcome there the army of the Grand Vizier, who had successfully re-conquered Morea from the Venetians. Her health here deteriorated in a few months and whatever the best doctors of the empire tried Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş died on November 6, 1715, in Edirne. Funeral prayers were held in Edirne in the presence of the Sultan, Grand Vizier, Ulema, and all important statesmen, and then her body was taken back to Istanbul, where she was buried in her own tomb on November 9th. Her turbe is particularly interesting, as it is not covered like most dynastic tombs, but open to the sky. By the way, this was built according to Emetullah's own wishes. There are plenty of plants and water in the octagonal tomb, which was probably built like that to resemble the Garden of Eden.

During her life, Gülnüş managed several construction projects, during which mosques, soup kitchens, schools, fountains and a tomb were built. But she converted several former churches into mosques also, and others were named in his honor. She also had foundations in Üsküdar, Edirne, Chios, Mecca, Medina, Kastamonu and Menemen.

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş was the last valide sultan during the period of the Sultanate of Women. Although there were still some Valide with exceptional influence after her, no one was able to gain an influence similar to her and her predecessors anymore. It was the death of Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş that eventually completely ended the period of the Sultanate of Women. True, she was not the last Haseki Sultan, because her brother-in-law Ahmed II had a Haseki, Rabia Sultan, but the woman had already died in 1712 before Emetullah. So with the death of Gülnüş, on November 6, 1715, the more than 180-years-long period of the Sultanate of Women ended. The Sultanate of Women was followed by the Tulip era, which was one of the most peaceful periods in the history of the empire, during which Westernization began.

Used sources: B. İ. Argıt - A Queen Mother and the Ottoman Imperial Harem: Rabia Gülnuş Emetullah Valide Sultan (1640-1715); M. Ç. Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları, Y.Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar, N. Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları; M. Özgüleş - The Women Who Built the Ottoman World: Female Patronage and the Architectural Legacy of Gülnuş Sultan; H. G. Majer - The Harem of Mustafa II (1695-1703); J. Dumas - Les perles de nacre du sultanat; A. D. Alderson - The Structure of the Ottoman Dynasty; L. Peirce - The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire; C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire

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Származása fiatalkora

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş görög származású nő volt, akit minden bizonnyal a velencei-oszmán háború során fogtak el. A sors fintora, hogy a háború kirobbanása köthető volt IV. Mehmedhez, aki később Emetullah kedvese lett. I. Ibrahim 1645 nyarán hadat üzent Velencének és egy nagy török sereget küldött Krétára. A háború közvetlen oka az volt, hogy máltai kalózok fogtak el egy oszmán felségjelzésű hajót, mely több befolyásos személyt szállított. Köztük volt IV. Mehmed szoptatósdajkája és annak fia, akiket I. Ibrahim szultán nagyon szeretett. Olyannyira, hogy a szoptatósdajka fiával többet törődött, mint saját gyermekével, Mehmeddel. A háború évtizedeken keresztül zajlott, egészen 1669-ig, így pontosan nem meghatározható, hogy Emetullah mikor esett fogságba.

Emetullah egy bizonyos Deli Hüseyn Pasa ajándéka volt, aki a saját maga által ejtett krétai rabszolgákat vitte a szultáni palotába és a legjobbakat a szultán háremébe ajánlotta. Deli Hüseyn Pasa 1659-ben elhunyt, így Emetullah mindenképp ezen időpont előtt került a hárembe. Ez sajnos nem segít nekünk, ugyanis tekintve, hogy Emetullah 1660-ban már a szultán kedvence volt és ezt több éves oktatás kellett, hogy megelőzze, a legvalószínűbb, hogy 1654 előtt esett fogságba. Sokan adják meg az 1645-ös évet, mint fogságba esés, azonban ez szinte kizárt. Általában 5 év alatti gyerekeket nem fogtak el, velük több volt a baj, mint a haszon és nagy eséllyel haltak meg a hosszú és viszontagságos út során. Ha feltételezzük, hogy Emetullah nagyjából egy idős volt - vagy fiatalabb -, mint IV Mehmed (1642), legkorábban 1648-ban eshetett fogságba.

Az ágyas

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş csodaszép fiatal nővé érett, így tökéletesen alkalmas lett a szultán szórakoztatására. Emetullah azon kevés szultána közé tartozik, akinek külsejét meglehetősen részletesen ismerjük. Az egyik követnek lehetősége volt látni Emetullah egyik ruháját és övét, mely alapján az átlagnál magasabb, de kecses nőnek gondolta a szultánát. Ugyanez a követ úgy hallotta informátorától, hogy a szultánának finom bőre és kék szeme van. Más leírások szerint fekete göndör haja volt. Élete vége felé Emetullah a beszámolók szerint inkább volt telt, mint karcsú.

Nem tudni pontosan, hogy Mehmed mikor kezdett ágyasokat fogadni és hogy Emetullah mikor vált a kedvencévé. Mehmed első gyermeke, egy kislány 1660-ban született. Közvetett bizonyítékok alapján ez a lány, Hatice, Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş első gyermeke volt. Ez alapján feltételezhetjük, hogy Emetullah a kései 1650-es években vált Mehmed partnerévé. Kapcsolatuk azonban ekkoriban még nem mélyült el igazán, hiszen Mehmed a következő időszakot a háremétől távol töltötte, sokat utazott.

A szultán nemsokkal később az egész udvartartását áthelyezte Edirnébe, ezzel gyakorlatilag mintegy de facto fővárossá tette meg az általa annyira kedvelt várost. Tökéletes időzítés volt, hogy elsőszülött fia, Musztafa itt látta meg a napvilágot 1664-ben. Mehmed annyira örült fia születésének, hogy elképesztő ajándékokkal halmozta el a gyermek anyját, Emetullah Rabia Gülnüşt és innentől kezdve sosem hagyta magára a nőt. Magával vitte a vadászataira, sőt hadjárataira is. Együtt még legalább két gyermekük született, Ahmed (későbbi III. Ahmed) 1673-ban és Fatma Emetullah 1675-ben. Mehmednek a fent említett négy gyermeken kívül bizonyosan voltak más gyermekei (Ayşe, Bayezid, Ümmügülsüm, Süleyman). Az ő anyjuk kiléte ismeretlen, lehetett Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş is, de akár más ágyasok is.

Mint a szultán kiemelt ágyasa, gyermekeinek anyja Emetullah a hárem második legmagasabb rangú asszonya volt. Viszonya a hárem első asszonyával ellentmondásos. Egyesek szerint Emetullah gonosz, erőszakos nő volt, aki rendszeresen szállt szembe anyósával, Mehmed édesanyjával, Turhan Hatice Valide szultánával. Azonban nincs erre utaló bizonyíték, sőt! Emetullah és Turhan időszakosan bizonyosan együttműködtek, hogy politikai céljaikat elérjék. 1682-ben Merzifonlu Kara Mustafa Pasa nagyvezír egyre jobban kezdte dühíteni Turhant, ugyanis próbálta ellehetetleníteni annak politikai befolyását. Azt nem tudjuk, hogy Gülnüş milyen motiváció miatt, de segített Turhannak a pasa eltávolításában. Végül sajnos Turhan előbb halt meg, minthogy a pasát lefokozták volna. Akárhogyan is, ez az együttműködés teszi valószínűtlenné, hogy Emetullah és Turhan közt rideg lett volna a kapcsolat. Mindemellett Emetullah jó viszonyt ápolt Turhan eunuchjával, Yusuf Agával, ami szintén nem lett volna lehetséges, ha a két nő nem kedveli és tiszteli egymást.

Sokan a feltételezett rideg kapcsolatért Emetullah ambícióit okolják. A legenda úgy tartja, hogy Mehmedet kedvese, Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş szultána igyekezett meggyőzni arról, hogy végeztesse ki elzárva tartott féltestvéreit és helyettük közös fiaikat tegye meg örökösének. Ismerve azonban a Mehmed és fiai közt fennálló végtelenül szoros viszonyt, nem zárhatjuk ki, hogy maga Mehmed kívánta megváltoztatni az öröklést. Akárki is volt a kifundálója, senki sem támogatta az ötletet, sem a nép, sem a pasák és Mehmed anyja, Turhan szultána sem. Turhan, hogy megóvja Szulejmán és Ahmed hercegeket a haláltól, fiát pedig a bukástól, mindig maga mellett tartotta két nevelt fiát. Ha Turhan utazott, magával vitte őket, nehogy távollétében Mehmed kivégeztesse őket.

Szultána a fronton

Musztafa születése után a szultán nem kívánt Emetullah és fia nélkül bárhová is menni. Innentől kezdve Emetullah mindenhová elkísérte kedvesét, innen ered beceneve, a "vándorló szultána" (itinerant sultan). Az első ilyen hadjáratra 1672-ben került sor, mikor Mehmed az egész háremét, anyját, Haszekijét, húgait is magával vitte a lengyel területekre. Erről az útról marad ránk egy esemény leírása, miszerint babadagi tábor felé vezető úton a rossz időjárási viszonyok miatt Emetullah ezüst fogata beragadt a sárba. A szultán nem várhatott órákat, amíg az elakadt kocsit kiszabadítják, így Fazıl Ahmed Pasa, a nagyvezír maradt hátra embereivel, hogy segítse a szultánát. 1672. augusztus 28-én Kamianets-Podilskyi elesett és az oszmánoké lett. A városban található összes templomból mecsetet alakítottak, melyek közül az egyiket Gülnüş tiszteletére nevetek el. Ezzel ő lett az első és egyetlen Haszeki szultána, aki ilyen kiváltságban részesülhetett.

Néhány hónapot töltöttek a front közelében, majd visszatértek Edirnébe. A megkötött egyezséget azonban a lengyelek keresztülhúzták, így 1673-ban Mehmed kénytelen volt visszatérni a frontra és magával vitte kedvesét is. Ez azért különösen említésre méltó, mert azontúl, hogy a szultánok évszázadok óta nem vitték harctérre asszonyaikat, Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş már előrehaladott terhes volt második fiával, akit végül a hadjáraton szült meg 1673. december 31-én Hacıoglupazarınál, a mai Bulgária területén. Ez a valaha volt egyetlen olyan eset, amikor egy oszmán herceg a hadszíntéren született meg, távol a főváros vagy a provinciák biztonságától. Tény azonban, hogy ez a tábor is igen távol volt a valódi fronttól.

A lengyel hadjárat sikere után a szultán Edirnébe vonult vissza, ahol 1675-ben hatalmas ünnepséget szervezett, melyen két fiát Musztafát és Ahmedet körülmetélték, legidősebb lányát Haticét pedig kiházasította. Az eseményen beszámoltak Mehmed külleméről, de sokan méltatták a herceget és Mehmed mellett az ünnepségen résztvevő Emetullah Rabia Gülnüşt is. Az egyik jelenlévő szerint a szultána gesztenyebarna hajú, gyönyörű nő volt. Kérdéses persze mennyire hihetünk az ilyen jellegű leírásoknak, hiszen haját egészen biztosan fátyol fedte, ha jelen volt is. 1676-ban aztán Mehmed újabb hadjáratra indult - természetesen ismét kedvesével az oldalán -, ezúttal az oroszokkal kívánt megmérkőzni. A hadjárat célja az mai ukrán - akkori lengyel - területek feletti uralom volt. Végül 1681-ben megállapodással zárult le a hadjárat.

A hárem első asszonya és a bukás

Bármilyen volt is Turhan és Emetullah kapcsolata, Turhan 1683-as halálával megnyílt Emetullah előtt az út a hárem csúcsára. Bár nagyszabású Haszekiként végzett építési projektjei még Turhan életében elkezdődtek, politikai karrierje ekkor lendülhetett meg igazán. Ismert például egy eset, mikor Musztafa egyik tanítója - aki igen közel állt Emetullahoz - Feyzullah Efendi hibát követett el és súlyos büntetés volt kilátásba helyeztve számára. Végül Emetullah közbelépett és megmentette a férfi életét.

Emetullah nem élvezhette azonban sokáig a hárem irányítását. Az 1680-as évek a sorozatos tragédiákról szóltak. Az Oszmán Birodalom ellenségei sorra fogtak össze egymással és szorították egyre kintebb az oszmánokat az európai területekről. Ez általános elégedetlenséget okozott, majd idővel káosz, kivégzések, anyagi problémák terjedtek el mindenhol a birodalomban, egyre több lázadás indult útjára és még természeti katasztrófák is sújtották a tragikus helyzetben lévő birodalmat. Gyakorlatilag már anyja halálával megpecsételődött Mehmed sorsa, egyre népszerűtlenebb lett, a végső csapást pedig 1687-ben szenvedte el. A második mohácsi csata tragikus kimenetele után Mehmedet trónfosztották és öccsét, Szulejmánt ültették trónra, aki így évtizedekig tartó elzárt élete után megkezdhette uralkodását II. Szulejmán néven. Ez egyet jelentett Emetullah Régi Palotába való költözésével.

Emetulláhnak nem csak a hatalma elvesztésével és száműzetéssel kellett szembenéznie, de elválasztották őt kedvesétől. Mehmed háremének egy tagja, a költő Afife Kadin ekkoriban komponálta egyik Emetullah Rabia Gülnüşről szóló versét. A vers szerint Gülnüş szultána addig zokogott és kiáltozott, mikor kedvesét a szultánt elszakították tőle és elzárták, amíg csak bírta a tüdeje. Mehmed pedig csendben zokogott a kafesben, míg szerelme a fal túloldalán sírt. Egy másik versében azt írja "Mondd Gülnüşnek, viseljen feketét / hogy abban szenvedje el fájdalmát / míg Mehmed szultán Şimşirlikben sír". Nem tudjuk, hogy Emetullah és Mehmed találkozhattak e még Mehmed 1693-as haláláig.

Vissza a csúcsra

II. Szulejmán szultán beteges állapota miatt, majd az őt követő II. Ahmed kora miatt nem kellett Emetullahnak sokáig a Régi Palotában senyvedni. 1695-ben, alig 8 év után Emetullah valide szultánaként térhetett vissza. II. Ahmed Edirnében hunyt el és a szintén jelenlévő II. Musztafa vette át a helyét szultánként. Emetullah ekkor Isztambulban a Régi Palotában volt, itt kapta meg a hírt. Emetullah hatalmas ünnepség keretei között a Régi Palotából a Topkapi Palotába ment, onnan pedig Edirnébe. Az Edirnébe való út során több hidat kellett megújítani a valide szultána előtt, melyek költségeit mind II. Ahmed temetési költségeiként vezettek fel a jegyzőkönyvekbe. Edirnébe érve fia üdvözölte az új valide szultánát.

A következő években is Edirne maradt a birodalom központja, csak rövidebb időszakot töltött az udvar Isztambulban és akkor sem a Topkapi Palotában voltak, hanem más palotákat részesítettek előnyben. Musztafa és Emetullah gyorsan maguk köré gyűjtötték megbízható embereiket és saját szájízük szerint kezdtek uralkodni. Így lett például Seyhülislam abból a Feyzullah Efendiből, akit korábban már egyszer Emetullah megmentett a kivégzéstől. Musztafa uralkodása alatt Emetullah sosem látott hatalmat épített magának, mindent átszőtt politikai befolyása de fia is nyíltan megvitatta vele az államügyeket. Emellett Emetullah rendszeresen mutatkozott az emberek közt, hagyta el a háremet, látogatta meg lányait vagy alapítványait. Meglehetősen szabad életet élt. Olyannyira, hogy bizonyos eseményeken egyenesen fia mellett állt elfátyolozva, de nem elbújva. Máskor a Seyhülislamot, nagyvezírt vagy más befolyásos államférfiakat fogadott nyíltan vagy parádékat tekintett meg Eyüb városrészben.

Emetullah hatalmas befolyása fiára, az államférfiak közt dívó korrupció és Isztambul elhanyagolása mind a nép nemtetszését váltották ki. 1703-ban hatalmas lázadás tört ki a fővárosban, de gyorsan elérte Edirnét is. Emetullah jó tanácsokkal látta el fiát, igyekeztek gyorsan leváltani minden államférfit, aki kárt okozhatott volna nekik, de már késő volt. A lázadás során II. Musztafát trónfosztották. A lázadók azt is elutasították, hogy Musztafa öccsét, Ahmedet emeljék trónra, hiszen ő is Emetullah fia volt, helyette II. Ahmed és Haseki Rabia szultána 11 éves fiát, Ibrahim herceget akarták a trónra ültetni. Az ulema azonban ezt elutasította a fiú korára való tekintettel és illedelmes gesztusként levelet írtak Emetullahnak, melyben engedélyét kérték Musztafa trónfosztásához. Bár nem volt valódi beleszólása, Emetullah beleegyezően válaszolt.

A lázadóknak azonban Musztafa trónfosztása távolról sem volt elég. Követelték, hogy Gülnüş hagyja el a Topkapi palotát és vonuljon vissza a Régi Palotába. Emetullah valóban ott maradt, amíg a körülmények nem nyugodtak meg eléggé visszatéréséhez. Talán nem is bánta az elvonult életet, ugyanis Musztafa, elsőszülött fia 1703 decemberében természetes okok következtében elhunyt.

Árnyék Valide

A pasák azért igyekeztek Gülnüşt távol tartani fiától és az államügyektől, mert attól tartottak bosszút állna rajtuk Musztafa trónfosztása és későbbi halála miatt. Féltek, hogy egy olyan bosszúhadjárattal találnák szembe magukat, mint azok a pasák, akik 1648-ban Köszem szultána fiát, Ibrahimot trónfosztották és kivégezték. Gülnüşről azonban időközben kiderült, hogy eszében sincs bosszút állni. Tanult az esetből és Köszem szultána halálából, így sokkal óvatosabban, tisztelettudóbban viselkedett a pasákkal, mint korábban. Ennek meg is lett az eredménye.

III. Ahmed egyik első lépése az volt, hogy a birodalmi udvartartást újra visszavitte Isztambulba, így Edirne megszűnt de facto fővárosnak lenni. Hogy a szultán népszerűsgét növeljék Isztambul népe között, rengeteg nyilvános eseményt szerveztek, például íjászati bemutatókat. Természetesen Gülnüş második fia, III. Ahmed uralkodása során is kényelemben élt és igyekezett segíteni fiát, de mindezt a háttérből tette. Részvétele a politikai életben azonban egyáltalán nem feltételes. Fennmaradt több levele is, melyet a pasákkal váltott III. Ahmed uralkodása során. Mindemellett, amikor az egyik nagyvezír megpróbált beleszólni abba, hogy Gülnüş melyik eunuchot nevezi ki a hárem élére gyorsan pozíció nélkül találta magát. Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş tehát egyáltalán nem hagyott fel a politikával, csak azt okosabban és kevésbé látványosan tette.

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş még egyszer visszatért a rivaldafénybe. 1709-ben az oroszok és svédek közti háború során a svéd király fogságba esett, majd az Oszmán Birodalomban talált menedékre. A király az oszmánok segítségét kérte, hogy visszaszerezhesse trónját. Emetullah a második vezír Damat Silahdar Ali Pasával karöltve nyilvánosan álltak a király kérése mellé és igyekeztek rávenni III. Ahmedet, hogy vállaljon háborút az oroszokkal. A divan más tagjai, így a nagyvezír egyáltalán nem értettek egyet Gülnüş akaratával, így vita alakult ki. III. Ahmed végül az édesanyja tanácsát követve bocsátkozott 1711-ben háborúba az Orosz Birodalommal, mely egyezményekkel zárult.

Halála és hagyatéka

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş 1715 nyarán követte fiát Isztambulból Edirnébe, hogy ott üdvözöljék a nagyvezír seregét, aki sikeresen hódította vissza Moreát a velenceiektől. Egészsége itt néhány hónap alatt leromlott és bármivel is próbálkoztak a birodalom legjobb orvosai Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş 1715. november 6-án, Edirnében meghalt. A temetési imákat Edirnében mondták a szultán, nagyvezír, ulema és minden fontos államférfi jelenlétében, majd testét visszavitték Isztambulba, ahol saját türbéjében temették el november 9-én. Türbéje kifejezetten érdekes, ugyanis nem fedett, mint a legtöbb dinaszitkus türbe, hanem az ég felé nyitott. Ez egyébként Emetullah saját kívánsága szerint épült így. Az oktagonális türbében rengeteg a növény és a víz, mely valószínűleg amiatt épült így, hogy hasonlítson az Édenkertre.

Élete során Gülnüş több építkezési projektet menedzselt, melynek során mecset, leveskonyha, iskola, kút, türbe épült. De több korábbi templomot építtetett át mecsetté, másokat pedig tiszteletére neveztek el. Emellett volt alapítványa Üsküdarban, Edirnében, Chiosban, Mekkában, Medinában, Kastamonuban és Menemenben.

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş volt az utolsó valide szultána a Nők szultánátusának időszakában. Bár utána is akadt néhány kivételes befolyással bíró Valide, az övéhez és elődeihez hasonló befolyást senkinek sem sikerült többé szerezni. Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş halála volt az, amely végül teljesen lezárta a Nők szultánátusának időszakát is. Igaz, nem ő volt az utolsó Haszeki szultána, mert sógorának II. Ahmednek volt egy Haszekije, Rabia Sultan, a nő már Emetullah előtt, 1712-ben meghalt. Gülnüş halálával, 1715. november 6-n lezárult az a több, mint 180 éves időszak, mely során befolyásosabbnál befolyásosabb nők váltották egymást az Oszmán Birodalom előkelőségei között. A Nők szultánátusát a Tulipán éra követte, mely az egyik legbékésebb időszaka volt a birodalom történetének, és mely során elindult a nyugatosodás a birodalomban.

Felhasznált források: B. İ. Argıt - A Queen Mother and the Ottoman Imperial Harem: Rabia Gülnuş Emetullah Valide Sultan (1640-1715); M. Ç. Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları, Y.Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar, N. Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları; M. Özgüleş - The Women Who Built the Ottoman World: Female Patronage and the Architectural Legacy of Gülnuş Sultan; H. G. Majer - The Harem of Mustafa II (1695-1703); J. Dumas - Les perles de nacre du sultanat; A. D. Alderson - The Structure of the Ottoman Dynasty; L. Peirce - The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire; C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire

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themarvel-spnmultifanwriter · 4 years ago

Note

Could you possibly do an end!verse au where Castiel had a thing with the reader since the beginning of the apocalypse? Where Castiel survives the suicide mission but finds the reader dead?

Hey, yes sure! Thank you so much for the request!

Suicide mission

Pairing: Castiel x Reader x Sam x Dean, Zachariah, Adam

Warnings: sad, mention of blood, fight, violence, mention of suicide/death

Word Count: 2,2k

Y/n's pov:

Castiel zaped us all to a derelict industrial property. I looked around the area to figure out where we were. I was confused.

"Where's the beautiful room?" Dean asked. Castiel pointed to the neglected building.

"In there" he said.

"The beautiful room is in an abandoned muffler factory in Van Nuys, California??" I asked surprised. Castiel chuckled.

"Yes. What were you expecting?" he asked me with a smile. The smile I loved about him. Cas and I have been dating since the beginning of the apocalypse. Fighting monsters and trying to stop his two brothers had brang us together. The angel got so close to me that I was constantly afraid of losing him.

"I don't know," I shrugged my shoulders. "Jupiter? A blade of grass? But... Van Nuys?" Dean and Sam laughed. I've been travelling with the Winchesters for a while. They're like family to me. They both see me as their little sister.

When first starting to date Castiel, Sam and Dean sent me to a hunt with Bobby. Later, I found out they only did it so they could talk to Castiel. More scare him. I could imagine Dean holding a blade to Cas and telling him he'd hunt him down, if Cas dared hurting me. When Cas told me about it he looked terrified and me laughing about it wasn't helping in any way.

"Anyways, why can't you just zap inside the building? Wouldn't that be a lot easier?" I asked. Cas pointed at the building.

"Because," Cas began while he removed his tie. "There are at least five angles in there. Our only shot is me going in there first"

"You think you can fight of five angels?" Sam asked. Iooked at Cas with a questioning look as to ask why he was taking his clothes of. Cas took a knife from Dean

"I will make them vanish with an angel-banishing sigil on my body"

"You do realise that's basically suicide?" Dean pointed out.

""Maybe it is, but then I won't have to watch you fail. Sorry Dean, but I don't have the same faith in you that Sam and y/n do. " Cas said and began to carve the signal in his body.

"Cas please," I said as I took the angels hand. "I don't want you to go in there. I can't lose you. Dean is right, this is suicide! What am I supposed to do without you?"

"Going inside to Zachariah might be too" Cas said but soon realised that this wasn't the best answer. "I will be fine I promise. And I will come back to you. I won't leave you alone" he pulled me clothes and kissed my lips. I tried to hold back the tears that formed in my eyes. Why did it feel like this was the last kiss? I didn't want it to end. It felt like the good bye I didn't want to give him. But we couldn't lose time.

I gave Cas a nod and he finished the signil on his body. Then, he put on his clothes again. Before he went inside he took my hands and looked me deep inside the eyes.

"I will see you again. I promise," he said and vanished.

Castiel's pov:

I zapped inside the warehouse. There was a dilapidated shed in the center of it. I went to the door, but before I could reach it one of my brothers appeared behind me.

I heard the sound of an angel blade and turned around, ducking in the same moment. The blade failed just for a few inches. I took my own blade and stabbed my brother with it. There was a glow before his vessel fell to the ground.

Four more angles came in. They heard me. They all carried angel blades and pointed them at my while encircling me. I dropped my blade.

"What are you waiting for? C'mon" I said. They stepped towards me, but before any of their weapons could reach me I opened my shirt and touched the symbol that was carved into my vessel Jimmy. There was a light glow. The four angels dissappeared. But in the same moment I felt a pain, like a burn and also I started glowing before I vanished from the warehouse.

Y/n's pov:

I was standing outside the warehouse with Sam and Dean. We were listening so we would know when to enter. I heard the familiar sound of angels being banished. A tear left my eye as I knew Cas was gone.

"He will come back," Sam said and gave me a hug. He wiped my tear away and I gave him a nod as to say I was fine.

"Okay, let's go inside," Dean opened the door. Me and Sam followed him. We passed the room with angel wings shadows on the wall. One of them was Cas' wings. There was a pain inside my chest, but I had to stay strong. We were about to face Zachariah and try to get Adam out of the beautiful room. I needed to focus.

Dean opened the door to the beautiful room and we found Adam inside of it on the ground. We reached for him and he looked at us surprised.

"You came for me," Adam said and looked at us shocked.

"You're family," Dean said and helped Adam up.

"Dean this is a trap set up for you. We gotta get out of-" Adam said but before he could finish, Zachariah appeared in front of us.

"Dean, please. Did you really think it was going to be that easy?" Zachariah said.

"Did you?" Dean replied.

Sam ran up behind Zachariah with an angel blade but he got thrown at the wall immediately. I looked at Sam who was in pain. The angel blade was lying in front of him. Zachariah turned back to Dean, he seemed to ignore me and I wondered if he even noticed me yet. But I saw my chance in it.

"Dean, the one thing I've learned from dealing with you is that patience is important" Zachariah made a movement with his hand and Adam fell to the ground and started coughing. He began to throw up blood. I went over to Sam and took the angel blade, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"I knew things would play out perfectly. I have to admit, throughout I had my doubts. But it was right to trust the bossman. He knew it would come to this moment all along"

I was behind Zachariah and went closer to him, having a tight grip on the angel blade and pointing it at Zachariah.

"There is one thing though I never understood-"

I ran up to the asshole of an angel and was about to stap him, but he turned around and grabbed my arm with the angel blade. The pain of his grib made me drop the weapon and I tried to jerk away but he had me in his grib. I couldn't go anywhere.

"-I never quite got what you unimportant little human where doing along with the Winchesters" Zachariah took an angel blade himself and stabbed me. I felt it slide inside my stomach and an instant pain was in my body. He pulled the blade out and blood began to pour out. I could hear Dean yelling "no" and felt my body wanting to collapse, but Zachariah's grib wouldn't allow it. "Did you really thing a worthless little human creature like you could beat me? Did you really think you could stop any of this? NO! You may have turned one of our soldiers against us, but you are nothing after all and your pathetic attempt of killing me is ridiculous so you will die in shame"

He let go of me and I collapsed to the ground. I heard Dean and Zachariah talking, but the words weren't clear. My body was dying, stopping to work and my sensen were weaker and weaker. The whole room got blurry and I took some last breaths before I stood next to my body and went to hell.

Dean's pov:

"No!" I yelled as y/n got strapped and I wanted to reach her, but I couldn't move as Zachariah had pinned me against a wall.

"Did you really thing a worthless little human creature like you could beat me? Did you really think you could stop any of this? NO!" Zachariah yelled at y/n. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to kick this angel ass and make him pay for hurting y/n. "You may have turned one of our soldiers against us, but you are nothing after all and your pathetic attempt of killing me is ridiculous so you will die in shame"

He left y/n's body to die and looked at Sam next. With a hand movement he did something to Sam who was now crawled up in pain. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take seeing Sam dying too.

"Please no! Don't hurt him too" I begged.

"In exchange for what?" Zachariah asked and made the pain worse with a movement of his hand.

"Damn it, Zachariah, stop it, please! I'll do it!" I said. "the answer is yes"

I could see Sam's disappointed look. But what should I do? Letting him die?

"Dean no!! " Sam yelled but was shut down by Zachariah.

"Call Michael," I said. A huge grin formed on Zachariah's face and he called for Michael.

Sam looked at me in shock. The room started to shake. I smiled at Sam with a wink to give him to understand that I wasn't letting them win.

"Michael is now on his way" Zachariah said.

"Of course I have a few conditions" I turned to him. I explained that I wanted a guarantee of the safety of a few people and them to bring y/n back.

"Oh she's gone. We can't bring her back. She's already in hell"

"But you brought me back?" I argued.

"Do you know what it took us to bring you back? We can't do that again" Zachariah said. I was mad at the angel as he turned away from me.

"There is one more thing.. Michael can't have me until he disintegrates you." I said. Zachariah wouldn't believe that his brother would kill him. "I'm more important to Michael than you are"

"You are nothing but a maggot, inside a worm's ass! Do you know who I am? After I deliver you to Michael?" Zachariah said as he grabbed me by the collar. "Michael would never kill me for you"

"Maybe not. But I will" I took an angel blade out of my jacket and stabbed Zachariah with it.

I reached for Adam and Sam and tried to get them out of the shaking room. I pulled Sam out and was about to reach for Adam's hand when the door closed and trapped him inside...

Castiel's pov:

Somehow I survived the suicide mission. I knew I had to go back to Sam, Dean and y/n. I needed to check on my girl to make sure she was alright. I went back to the warehouse and I found Sam and Dean walking outside. But y/n was missing?

"Sam! Dean!" I said as I went to the Winchesters.

"Cas hey! You are still alive" Dean pointed out.

"I made a promise that I would come back" I said. "Where is y/n anyways?"

Neither Sam or Dean was answering. They were both looking to the ground, sadness written on their faces.

"Cas y/n... She..." Sam said but he couldn't finish the sentence. I still knew what he meant but I couldn't believe it.

"No!" I said and took a few steps back.

"Cas she didn't make it" Dean said. I shook my head.

"No! No she isn't! Y/n is strong! She's a fighter! She. She"

"I'm so sorry Cas. She meant a lot to all of us" Sam said and I looked at him half mad half sad.

"Where is she?" I asked.

"Her body is still in the room" Sam replied and looked back on the ground.

"You didn't brought her out of the room?!"

"We barely made it out ourselves!" Dean said. "Now y/n isn't even getting the hunters funeral that she deserves"

"Zachariah is going to pay for that" I said to myself, though it was loud enough for the others to understand.

"He already did. I killed him" Dean told me.

"Then Michael will pay next!" I said. I couldn't let y/n's death happen without any revenge. The angels took away what mattered the most to me.

Y/n showed me what humanity and life really meant. She showed me all the good things about it. I learned to love what I was willing to kill without questioning a few months ago. And now it was gone. The beauty and the reason for my still existence. I didn't want to exist anymore. All I wanted was to kill Michael and disappear after that. Because now they took the only beauty out of my life. And everything felt empty again.

#castiel #supernatural #castiel x reader #sam x reader #dean x reader #supernatural one shot #supernatural imagine #supernatural art #sam winchester #dean winchester

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tchallasbabymama · 4 years ago

Text

The Temple- Chapter 3

Taglist: @nahimjustfeelingit-writes, @quietstorm-73, @ladymac82

Read Chapter 2 if you haven’t already, and let me know if you want to be tagged. Don’t forget to check out my Masterlist!

CW: smut

Word count: 4231 “Hello, my prince. I am Aisha.”

The words sounded like a prayer on her lips. Aisha.

“N’Jadaka.” The prince gingerly grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it, causing her to giggle at the tickling feeling.

“I am aware. This is your first visit?”

“That obvious, huh?”

Aisha full on laughed this time, a melodious siren call. He wanted nothing more than to let her drag him into her waters and keep him for eternity.

“Painfully so. No worries, I’ll ease you into it.”

N’Jadaka’s ears perked up at her forwardness.

“‘It’ being…?

“The reason we were called to each other.”

He leaned in to whisper into her ear, just loud enough for her to hear him over the crowd.

“And what reason is that, beautiful?”

The prince’s arm went around her waist, and he felt her place a kiss just under his collarbone. N’Jadaka just about melted right then and there, so Aisha grabbed his hand and led him through the crowd in the opposite direction from the entrance. Instead of another large door, this part of the temple was only separated from the rest by an ornate purple curtain, and when she drew back the curtain his eyes travelled to the winding staircase before them. Vibranium lit the halls as his eyes took in the artwork on the wall, some different stories of Bast and others scenes of sexual pleasure featuring the oldest Daughters of Bast from thousands of years ago. After staring in awe at his surroundings, the prince’s eyes fell to Aisha’s ass. It was by no means the biggest ass he had ever seen, but it was the perfect size and shape for his hormones to go crazy.

“How much farther?” He asked, pulling her back towards him and placing his nose in the crook of her neck, taking in her sweet natural scent.

“Not much farther, my prince. I promise.”

“I like when you say that shit.”

“My prince?”

N’Jadaka grinded his erection into her lower back and she reached back to grab him by the balls, making him release a whimpering sound in her ear.

“Not yet...my prince. There is much we must do before I let you experience Bast’s blessings.”

He pulled back and tilted her face towards him, staring into her light brown eyes.

“What else is there?”

Aisha chuckled darkly and pulled him along once more, hand never moving from her warm cradle between his legs. He followed with his bottom lip wedged perfectly between his teeth, trying not to bite down as hard as he wanted to.

__________

He swore the temple was bigger on the inside, or maybe it was just his raging hormones making the walk seem impossibly long. Once they arrived at what N’Jadaka assumed was her door he felt like they had been walking for forever. She opened it and motioned for him to enter.

“After you, your highness.”

N’Jadaka stepped in and took in his surroundings once more. The room was dimly lit and the lingering smell of incense greeted him before anything else. The only window was stained glass with a large kaleidoscope pattern that N’Jadaka was sure would look amazing in the sunlight. He took note of the massage table in the middle of the room, and then he noticed a bed as well as a chair over to the side. He could barely hear faint instrumental music playing in the background.

“So you’re a masseuse, too?” N’Jadaka asked Aisha.

“We are all well-versed in many physical arts, including massage.”

“So you’re good with your hands?” he asked with a devilish smirk.

Aisha smiled knowingly.

“Yes your highness, I am.”

“Well let's get to it then.” He rubbed his hands together and walked towards the massage bed, He stopped when he noticed the hole near the middle.

“Wait, is that for my dick?”

Aisha giggled.

“Yes, my prince. Some find it uncomfortable to lay on an erect penis during a back massage, and others enjoy it as part of a kink. We will see which one you are. Either way, you will be receiving a full-body massage in every sense of the word. Would you care to lay down?”

“Yes ma’am.”

N’Jadaka laid on his stomach, awkwardly placing his dick through the opening.

“Feels weird just hanging like this…”

“It always does at first, but if you wish you do not have to utilize it.”

“Nah I’m curious.”

“Are you ready to begin, my prince?”

“Uh yeah, let's do this” He said, trying to mask his nerves. He was instantly calmed down when she placed her hands lightly on his head to feel his energy and slowly trailed them to his feet, touching everything in between and acquainting herself with his body.

“Lavender or eucalyptus oil?” Aisha asked the prince. He pointed to the lavender bottle and she pumped some into her hands before rubbing them together.

When her hands came up to knead at his tense shoulders, her strength surprised him. He had never felt anything like that before. Her thumbs beat the shit out of his tension and the heels of her palms ran it out of town.

Aisha’s hands moved to his lower back and he let out a moan that he wasn’t expecting, before clearing his throat.

“It’s ok, you know? Moaning, expressing yourself in that way. If it feels good it feels good.”she told him.

N’Jadaka nodded slowly, not trusting his voice at the moment.

Her strong hands made their way to his backside and he giggled.

“Sorry, I guess I’m ticklish.”

“Plenty of people are, it’s a very sensitive area.”

She continued to knead his glutes and he tried to speak through his giggles.

“So- aha, how long have you be-been doing thi-sss?”

“Just two years. I got the call young so I started studying anatomy, massage therapy, reiki, and acupressure. When I hit adulthood I began my training to be a Daughter of Bast, and after three years I was able to officially call myself a Daughter.”

Her hands moved to the backs of his thighs, which was no better for him sensitivity-wise and he felt a stirring in his loins. He could feel his dick hardening and being pulled down by gravity herself the more it grew.

“Three years? That’s a long time.”

Aisha smiled at his attempt to make conversation.

“Yes, but it flew by. It takes time to learn the physical arts, even with my background.”

“I like that y’all call sex ‘physical arts’”

“Not just sex, my prince, but intimacy. What we are doing now is intimate, yes?”

“Hell yeah it is,” he said with a smile.

“Everybody comes here for different reasons,” She began as her hands moved down to his calves. “Some require sex, some just need us to lend an ear, some need the relaxing environment, some need to be held...it varies from person to person.”

“Makes sense. So what do I need?”

“Everything I just mentioned. Life was not kind to you, and that much loneliness doesn’t just disappear with talk therapy. Humans require intimacy not just for survival, but for our mental state as well. And I don't mean just in terms of sex. No, I mean familial relationships, romantic and platonic relationships. Even the intimacy that comes from community. That love and support and closeness can come from anywhere, you just have to be open to it. But it is difficult if you’ve never been given that chance before. After all, a child not embraced by their village will burn it down to feel it’s warmth.”

A lump formed in the prince’s throat as he thought back to the scorched Garden of the Heart-Shaped Herb.

“I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

“I’m sure, it is a very old proverb.”

Aisha massaged his feet and he felt his body respond to her touching the corresponding pressure points. He felt a rush of blood and his dick immediately jumped.

“How are you feeling,” Aisha asked, already knowing the answer.

“Relaxed and horny. Yo this upside down glory hole is kinda nice though, I might have to get a bed like this...”

“May I pleasure you like this or would you prefer a different position?”

N’Jadaka froze as if he had forgotten why he came here.

“Uh yeah, this is good…”

Aisha crawled under the massage table and sat on a pillow, cross-legged under his raging erection.

“If it pleases you, I will start with my hands.”

“Oh, it pleases me…”

She pumped some unscented oil into her hands before bringing them up to his dick. It was sensitive to her touch and he winced as she grabbed the base with one hand and massaged the tip with her other hand.

“My prince, there is no pride or ego here. When you feel the need to release you do so. Do you understand?” “Yes.”

“I did not hear you.” She said as she squeezed a little tighter around the base.

“Y-yes!”

“Good.” Aisha smirked and her focus returned to the task at hand. She used her fingertips to tease the underside of his dripping dick, watching with joy as it tried to twitch out of her grasp only to be pulled back in by her soft hand sliding up and down his shaft. His foreskin pulled back more and more as his dick grew in size and thickness the more she worked it. When she reached for his balls again he nearly lost it, letting out a loud guttural moan.

“Looks like I found it,” she giggled to herself.

She added more oil to her hands and coated his sack with one hand while working just under his head with the other, causing the vein under his dick to throb more and more until he released on her face with a growl. Each time his hips jerked, more spilled out and Aisha couldn’t help but get a taste. She swiped her finger across her face, gathering his cum, and brought it to her lips to sample the salty goodness. She brought the flat of her tongue to the underside of his already sensitive dick and ran it along the length to the tip, pressing her tongue into the still-leaking opening of his urethra hoping to catch every last drop. When she took him into her mouth, the prince stopped her.

“Hold on babygirl, I want to watch you suck my dick.”

Aisha crawled out from under the table and he stared at her cumstained face in awe. She looked even more beautiful than before. He slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the table before looking around the room.

“We doing this here, or…”

“Where do you want me, your highness?”

Aisha watched his dick twitch at her words and smirked at her power over him.

N’Jadaka motioned to the high-back leather chair near the stained glass window and she grabbed his hand to lead him over to it. He sat down and she stood between his legs. They stared into each other's eyes before he pulled her in for a sloppy kiss, not caring that her face was dripping with his essence. Their arms snaked around each other and she caressed the back of his neck while he gripped her ass tight. He pulled back to admire her body, taking in her deep brown areolas, and bringing his tongue out to taste the sweet saltiness of her skin.

His tongue worked one nipple while his fingers kept the other company. He alternated between the two, lazily tonguing and sucking and nibbling her erect buds causing Aisha to let out a moan that was more music to the prince’s ears. It was one of those deep, low moans that starts in the gut and travels up the spine before loudly breaking free. Her nipples were extremely sensitive to his touch and as she came down from her high he peppered light kisses around her chest.

“My prince…” Aisha said between breaths.

“Yeah, beautiful?”

“It’s your turn again.”Aisha said while sinking down to her knees before him. She began to drool at the sight of his already hard and leaking dick, throbbing because of her. She stuck out her tongue and opened wide before taking him inside her mouth to the hilt, tongue swirling around the bottom of his ever-thickening dick.

“Fuck! Girl y-you better suck the fuck out this dick.”

Aisha swallowed and sucked his dick like her life depended on it, cheeks hollowing and spit dripping down her chin.

She removed herself from him with a loud pop, and a thick string of saliva connected her lips to his bulbous head. She traced her tongue along the underside of his dick from his frenulum to his ballsack. She brought his balls into her mouth one at a time and worked them on her tongue while lightly suckling on them. Her hand never left his dick, pulling back his foreskin and stroking along his shaft.

“Babygirl, if you keep that up I’m gonna come.”

“No holding back, remember?” She took his balls out her mouth and looked at him with a devilish smirk before placing her lips around his head, and hollowing her cheeks to suck him hard and sloppy. Her tongue came out to massage his dick and he let out a stuttered moan before he burst inside her mouth.

Aisha made sure to clean her plate, sucking him dry and licking up anything left behind. He grabbed her by the chin and pulled her closer, smacking a kiss on her juicy, cum-covered lips. He loved how he tasted on her.

“Do you have one more for me, your highness?”

“Of course babygirl, how do you want me?”

She didn't answer verbally, choosing to push him back and straddle him instead.

“Oh so it’s like that?” He secretly loved her brief flashes of dominance.

Aisha lowered herself onto him, sliding all the way down until they were connected pelvis-to-pelvis.

“M-my prince, you are v-very big.” She struggled to get the words out, distracted by the way his dick stretched her out.

“Yeah and you got that tight, pretty pussy babygirl. Lean back, lemme watch your pussy swallow my shit.”

Aisha did as she was told and planted her hands on his thighs before leaning back and allowing him a view of her treasure trove.

“Ooh, fuck. That’s right, take my shit deep.” N’Jadaka.

“Your highness, it’s so deep.”

“You like that shit?”

“Mmm, yes sir.”

“Bounce on it then” He said as his fingers dug into her ass.

Aisha used her thighs to lift her body, then gracefully slid back down his pole with her hips circling like wind in a tornado. He was caught up in her storm, eyes intensely glued to hers. Her hand came up to grab his chin and hold him in place while her other hand sneaked into his messy dreads. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned down to kiss him and lightly snuck her tongue in his mouth. The kiss was soft and sweet as she grinded her hips slowly into his. They moaned into each other's mouths and climbed towards their peaks together.

“Mmm you feel so good your highness. How do I make you feel?”

“Like I’m on cloud nine babygirl. You got some strong juju in this pussy, I can feel it.”

Their foreheads leaned against each other and she picked up her pace, slamming her ass down on his lap.

“Keep that up and Im cumming in that pussy”

“Please, my prince. Cum inside me.”

At her command, his body convulsed and he released his seed deep inside her. She pulled up and only rode the tip of his dick, making him release a whine-like moan into the crook of her neck while his dick throbbed once more, pushing out the very last bit of semen his body could provide. Aisha’s pussy clenched and she let loose a deluge of her juices onto the prince before sinking back down and relaxing onto him. Their bodies still connected, they stared into each others eyes and took deep breaths in and out until they calmed their heart rates down.

“How do you feel now, my prince?”

“Call me N’Jadaka.”

“Alright, then. How do you feel, N’Jadaka?”

He paused to think about it, leaving them in silence for a minute. Still inside her, his fingers aimlessly traced patterns into her hips while her fingers lightly ran through his hair. She laid her head against his chest and he placed his chin on top of her head. He had never been held like this before. So calm, so close.

“Lighter. Open. Tired.”

They both laughed at that last one.

“Lighter and open how?”

“I don't know how to explain it, I just- don't feel as heavy and closed off in my spirit.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Yeah, I just-,” N’Jadaka began to tear up and Aisha brought her hand up to wipe them away as they fell. She gave him the time to let it all out. When he was able to talk again, he cleared his throat. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

“How what could, N’Jadaka?”

“Living.”

She pressed a kiss to his forehead and they continued to talk for a few more minutes before they finally parted. Aisha walked N’Jadaka back though the temple to retrieve his clothes and when they said goodbye neither wanted the other to leave.

“I am sure I will see you again, my prince?”

“Come on with that ‘my prince’ shit.” he said with a smile, causing her to send him one right back. He pulled her in for a hug and they both took in each other's scent.

“Be safe getting back, N’Jadaka.”

“I’ll see you around.” He kissed her cheek and turned to leave, nearly tripping over a black ball of fuzz.

“Isa? Hey lil mama, what’s good?”

The cat purred and rubbed on his legs.

“It looks like she likes you. You know what that means?” Aisha leaned down to pet Isabis, too.

“Nah, what?”

“You’re pure of heart-”

He looked at her and his eyes got misty before he noticed a smaller black fuzz ball making it’s way over to him.

“-and she finds you worthy enough to care for one of her babies.” Aisha answered with a smile.

“Aww, Isa.” He said as the cat moved to lick the kitten on it’s head before turning back to the prince. He reached out to greet his new friend but was beat to it by the kitten jumping into his large hand.

“It looks like she’s happy with her mama’s decision.” Aisha looked on with pride. This man had transformed right before her eyes and she couldn't be happier for him and his progress. “Do you have a name for her?”

He looked at the little black kitten intently.

“Nah, she’ll tell me what it is eventually.”

The two smiled at each other and exchanged kisses on the cheek once more before the prince was off to the palace with his new fur baby.

____________

“Someone seems to be in a good mood,” Shuri teased the moment he walked in the door.

“Hello to you too, beanstalk.” N’Jadaka threw it right back at her, and fully expected her to make some jab at his scars but the kitten distracted her.

“Bast, she’s adorable! Where did you find her?”

“The temple.”

“Ohhhhh, I’ve heard they have kittens everywhere!”

“Yeah you still got a couple more years before you get to visit all these cute little guys. Isn’t that right….” N’Jadaka paused, thinking a name would come to him. “Damn, nothing.”

“What's the problem?”

“I can’t think of a name. I don't want to just be like ‘hey cat come here’, you know?”

“I get it, but once she shows you her personality it’ll be easier to name her.”

“Name who?!” Nakia rounded the corner with a scowl on her face.

Without a word, the prince held up his new kitten and her face softened. She immediately grabbed the kitten and sat down with her on the couch.

“She’s the cutest! Did you get her from the temple?”

N’Jadaka cleared his throat, not necessarily wanting to go into details with these two. Especially with Shuri’s young ears around.

“I did. There’s a cat that fosters the kittens-”

“Isa? Oh how is she?”

He chuckled at Isabis’ popularity.

“She’s fine, she pushed this one on me and now here we are.”

“I understand, T’Challa and I have two that run our lives. Once this baby gets here I fear we will be outnumbered.”

“What’s T up to anyway? I want him to meet his new little cousin.”

“He’s in his office getting some work done”

“Bet. Can I have my child back please?”

Nakia kissed the kitten’s head and reluctantly handed her back to N’Jadaka.

“Thank you!” He waved goodbye as the kitten climbed up his arm to lay on his broad shoulders. Neither of the three of them could contain their ‘awww’s.

The prince made it to T’Challa’s office on the business side of the palace. The guards saluted him and after he saluted back he noticed their ear to ear smiles. He felt a tug and realized they were smiling at his kitten trying to play with his hair.

He walked in, interrupting what appeared to be a meeting on the screens in front of him. He recognized several of the faces as Avengers.

“My bad…”

He tried to slip back out the doors, but T’Challa stopped him.

“Nonsense, you should join-” The king paused at the adorable sight before him. “Actually, meeting adjourned. We can pick this up tomorrow.”

As the Avengers screens went black, N’Jadaka sat in the chair across from his cousin. As soon as he got close, the kitten leapt from his shoulder to the king’s desk.

“So I take it your time at the Temple was fruitful, umzala.”

“Fruitful? Nigga I almost fell in love and I came home with a child.”

“Love?”

“I mean, I know it's nothing because they do this all the time but damn she was something else.”

The kitten had taken to T’Challa, naturally, and began to climb up onto his shoulder.

“You’re correct that they are professionals, but that doesn’t mean a spark wasn’t felt. Our grandmother was a Daughter of Bast. She chose to leave the temple when she married our grandfather, but that was how they met.” The king explained while play-fighting with the kitten on his shoulder.

“I didn’t think that was possible...so they're not married to Bast or something like that?”

“No, they are free agents. Some of them stay Daughters after marriage or children. Several leave and come back. Bast is the goddess of pleasure, and how unpleasurable would it be to force everyone into the same box?”

N’Jadaka nodded slowly, trying to wrap his brain around the new information.

“So have you named her yet?”

“Nah, I figure it’ll come to me. I can already tell she’s a handful.” He said as they watched the kitten jump down and begin chasing her tail, falling over in the process.

“So back to the temple. Who did you see?”

“Aisha.”

“I can’t say I know of an Aisha, I haven’t been in so long. Every time I go, Isa tries to push more kittens on me, and I hate denying her.”

N’Jadaka chuckled at the thought of Isabis and the king’s interactions.

“So this Aisha, are you planning on seeing her again?”

“Hell yes. How soon is too soon to go back?”

“You can go back whenever, but I would suggest waiting until you feel it is the right time.”

The prince thought over it for a moment before responding.

“I saw her before I met her. In a daydream. Then when I saw her in person I felt this warm pulling in my stomach like-”

“Like a chain pulling you towards her. Yes, I am familiar.” A goofy smile appeared on T’Challa’s face as he thought of his wife.

“So you get it?”

“I do, but does she?”

_______________

On the other side of Wakanda, Aisha lowered herself into a fragrant bath and thought over her day. She had told herself it would be an off-day, but then when she saw the prince she felt something in her gut tell her to go to him. When he kissed her hand ‘hello’ she nearly melted at the touch of his skin on hers. She wasn’t used to experiencing those feelings from patrons.

When she caressed and massaged his body, she could feel the pain melt away. When she rode him she could feel his soul opening up and she gladly stepped through the door. She could feel his emotions and she opened herself to him, allowing him to feel hers. When they came together, she saw constellations in his chestnut eyes.

She stayed in the bath, daydreaming about Prince N’Jadaka until the water ran cold. When she emerged from the water, she air dried her body and covered herself in cocoa butter before lowering herself to the floor for her nightly prayers to the goddess.

Aisha pulled back her sheets and slid in naked. She laid there for an hour, mind racing over all the possibilities, before sleep finally took her in for the night.

Next Chapter

#cecewritessometimes #the temple #n'jadaka x oc #n'jadaka #erik killmonger #black panther fic

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esperantoauthor · 3 years ago

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Senior year Klaine!!! Applying for colleges! (Or you could just put some headcanons of how that year would go).

Hi Jas! This ask is literally 7 months old but I have every confidence that you still remember sending it because that is kind of your thing. I finally got inspired to pick back up the scene I had written and finish this off. It was a joy to write in this universe again for a little bit; thank you for sending this in when I invited people to send in prompts for scenes from the Express Yourself Verse. Without further ado...

Title: Applying to College [bonus content for the Express Yourself Universe] Author: Esperanto Length: 1,404 words 📚 Read it on Ao3 or below 📚

“You and Kurt talk much about college?” Burt asked conversationally as he handed Blaine a tire iron.

Blaine grasped the handle of the tool. “Some. I, uh, uh, I —don’t want to influ—to effect his de-de-decision so I haven’t shared my list yet.”

“Oh.”

Mr. Hummel looked disappointed. This confused Blaine, whose own parents had given him stern lectures about not throwing away his dreams for some high school boyfriend who, statistically, wasn’t going to be his forever partner anyways. Yes, his father had research to back up his point, as always.

“It’s irresponsible to choose a college based on where your boyfriend is going,” his father had lectured him.

“But he’s the love of-of-of my life,” Blaine had countered.

“Then your relationship will be strong enough to survive a little separation.”

His mother, always with the softer touch, had added, “You are just so young, sweetie, that’s all. You don’t want to limit yourself. It’s the responsible choice.”

They had worn him down in the end. He didn’t always agree with his parents but he knew they had his best interests at heart and as much as he was loath to admit it, he was young. There was a lot he didn’t know about life. College was a big deal and he didn’t want to screw it up by making an irresponsible decision.

But now, it seemed that following his parents’ advice meant disappointing Mr. Hummel. Blaine felt like he couldn’t win.

“So, how many colleges are you applying to?”

“I’ve got, uh, five applications —submitted but I’m not d-done yet.”

Blaine hoped his answer was good enough for Mr. Hummel. What if Kurt has applied to way more? Do I seem behind? I haven’t missed any deadlines.

“Is that, uh, a lot to apply to or… what’s the usual number?” Kurt’s usually confident father looked at Blaine with uncertainty in his eyes.

“Oh, I mean it, uh, it depends but I think like —five to eight is good.”

Burt fell into a plastic lawn chair and made a frustrated grunt. “I knew it!”

“Uh, you kn-knew what?”

“That Kurt doesn’t know any more about this than I do. I thought they had guidance—that’s what they’re called, right?— counselors at that school of yours. Aren’t they supposed to tell him this kind of stuff?”

“Um, they-they-they do, b-but no one has to talk to them. I...what do you m-mean he doesn’t know any more than, uh, y-you do?” Blaine asked, feeling deeply confused. Mr. Hummel was an adult, of course he knew more than them.

“Never went.”

“I...I ne-never realized. Not-not-not that it m-matters, of course!” Blaine felt his cheeks start to flush with embarrassment. Way to assume, Blaine!

“Got a job right out of high school, did the certification course at the junior college, and then I got real lucky that my boss decided to retire and wanted to pass on the business to someone he trusted. Can you do me a favor, kiddo?”

“Of course,” Blaine replied earnestly.

“Talk to Kurt about all this college stuff. He needs your help.”

“Um, o-okay.”

“Good.”

—

Blaine wasn’t sure how to bring up the topic without being heavy-handed but an opportunity presented itself to him just a few days later.

Kurt and Rachel strode into the cafeteria with their arms linked and matching smirks of self-satisfacts plastered across their faces; it was times like these that Blaine thought they could be siblings.

Blaine leaned in to accept the cheek kiss Kurt offered and then raised an expectant eyebrow, knowing that neither Kurt nor Rachel needed much prompting to spill when they were this excited.

Tina was not as patient. “Well?”

Kurt and Rachel turned to face one another before saying in unison, “We found our college!”

“It’s called NYADA,” Kurt added, face glowing with excitement. He pressed a colorful brochure into Blaine’s hands. “Please tell me you’ll apply too, Blaine!”

“Oh, I, uh… l-let me take a… look but, I mean, I p-p-p-probably, sure.” Blaine felt a bit flustered at being asked such a big question on the spot. Kurt’s gaze softened, clearly realizing what was happening and he gave Blaine’s thigh a comforting squeeze under the table.

“The deadline isn’t for another six weeks, so there’s plenty of time. Here, you hang on to this; I have more copies.”

That night, Blaine dutifully read through the brochure and researched the school online. His boyfriend, as always, had impeccable taste; it was clearly a top notch performing arts college. But the more he read, the more worried he became

He needed to talk to Kurt.

—

“Kurt, can we, um, um, well, can we talk about… about NYADA?”

“Sure! Did you read the flyer? Isn’t it just perfection?” Kurt clapped his hands against his thighs and bit his lip in excitement. Blaine swallowed thickly, thinking about how to do this without completely taking the wind out of Kurt’s sails.

“—Totally. The list of-of-of famous alumni alone was enough to, uh, convince me. Kurt, I would—I would love to go there.”

Kurt threw his arms around Blaine’s neck and kissed his cheek. “We’re going to New York! This is going to be perfect!”

“I, uh, I hhhope so. But Kurt… did you see that-that-that they only, uh, only accept 20 st-st-st-students a year? I… I think it would be a good… a good idea to have a backup, uh, plan.”

“You don’t think I’m good enough?” Kurt sounded hurt.

Blaine quickly leaned forward, gathering Kurt’s hands in his and drawing his gaze.

“No, no, sweetie, no, of-of course I do. But… e-e-everyone gets rejected from a-a-a-at least one or-or t-two colleges, Kurt. My…my father went to Harvard Law but even he didn’t get in everywhere.”

Kurt’s nose wrinkled in concern. “He didn’t?”

“He didn’t,” Blaine confirmed. "He was re-re-re—he didn’t get in to-to Colum-Columbia. And he got a-a-a-a-a perfect score on the SAT. He’s the one who —told me how important it is to-to-to apply to several schools, including a few ssssafety choices.”

Kurt sat back in stunned silence. “I thought the hard part was choosing the school… I had no idea. How many schools have you applied to so far, Blaine?” Panic was starting to creep into Kurt’s voice.

“Um, five so far.”

“So far?” Kurt’s voice cracked on the second word and he ran his fingers through his hard, something he only did when he was highly stressed. Blaine felt a sympathetic pang in his chest. “Well, which ones? Is it too late for me to apply to them too?”

“N-no, I don’t—I don’t th-th-think the deadline has-has-has —passed for any of them yet. I, um, let me think. I… applied to CUNY, NYU, Cornell, Northwestern, and-and-and Ohio State.”

“You want to go to Ohio State?” Kurt looked mildly scandalized.

“N-n-no.”

“Then why did you apply?” Kurt asked in befuddlement.

“It’s a-a-a…it’s —called a safety, um, school. It’s just in—just in c-c-c-case I don’t, I don’t get in anywhere, um, else. I’d r-r-rather go there than-than n-nowhere, you know? —Besides, my father said you-you-you-you can al-al-al-al-always transfer after a year.”

“Oh. Well, I guess there’s no harm in that.”

Well, that could have gone a lot worse. Blaine let out a contented sigh. He had managed to talk to Kurt about this delicate topic without embarrassing him.

“I, um, I-I-I can help you with the, uh, uh, um, the, uh, the research if you want.”

“That would be amazing, actually. I’m suddenly feeling very overwhelmed by this whole thing.”

“Happy to help. It is our fu-fu-future, after all. That’s always worth p-p-p-putting in a bit of work for.”

Kurt’s worried expression melted into a fond smile.

“Th-th-th-there’s this one program, actually—“

Suddenly, Blaine was flat on his back, looking up into Kurt’s mischievous eyes.

“Tomorrow, Blaine. We can start tomorrow. Tonight, I have other plans.”

Kurt didn't have to tell him twice.

#this takes place between the last chapter of love yourself and the epilogue #love yourself #gorgxoxus #asked and answered #also I heard your birthday is coming up so HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY #love yourself extras #my fic #esperanto writes #This is me trying to write something short #also I read through this maybe twice so hopefully there aren't any glaring errors #should I post this on ao3?#express yourself extras #express yourself #express yourself extra scene

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mor-beck-more-problems · 3 years ago

Text

Death Rings Twice || Morgan and Eilidh

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @braindeacl @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: While searching for answers, Morgan and Eilidh realize the situation is worse than they realized.

CONTAINS: conversations with dead people

They came and went in waves. The first time, only the first time, Eilidh believed them to be just a part of being a ghost. James had done so many times—go in and out of view like the watts on a bulb. But those changes had been consensual, come upon by his own will, and he never truly left. Not like she had, and did, and still do. Moments of nothingness. Blink and she was gone, truly and ultimately gone. Blink and she was back, not even left with a memory. Just a faint recollection, a faint feeling of a blank. Like trying to recall a blackout. You knew it was there, you felt it too—pages torn from a book. But you also didn’t, couldn’t, for nothingness was all that remained. Nothingness that seemed to be her destination. Those blinks got longer, longer, longer. With no sign of slowing.

Eilidh knew Morgan was facing her own bouts of strangeness. Maybe they were connected. Morgan believed them to be—magic set loose like a wildfire, with them in its path. Consumed in its flames, would it burn them all the way to the ground? Or would they come out the other side, for the better? This curiosity, and a gnawing worry, compelled her forward, right into Morgan’s residence. She ventured through those great and winding halls, as if she already haunted the place. She ought to haunt at least one. Before it became too late. Passing by an open door, that familiar face was finally seen. Eilidh stopped, stared. Felt that nothingness threatening to claim her again. Visage flickered—like a light on its dying breath. But the feeling passed, leaving her there, shining on. The motion, or her very presence, must’ve caused a stir. The two women met each other’s eyes.

“Boo.”

Morgan just needed to find the right book. Zombies had been around for ages and so even if whatever was happening to her was obviously very rare, it must have happened to someone else before. And that someone must have wanted to write it down. Because magic directly affecting a zombie body at all was worth writing about; doing so in this cruel, backwards way defied everything she understood about magic and living matter. So, Morgan sat on the floor in the library, swimming through a large haul from the scriberary, searching. When Macleod appeared behind the volume she was holding, calling boo, Morgan yelped with surprise.

“Oh! Stars! That was--” she laughed uneasily. “That was something alright.” She sat back and looked at the other woman. She had believed everything Macleod had told her but seeing her friend, so wild and earthbound, so connected to her flesh, floating and transparent was uncanny in a way her mind struggled to process. “I wish I had good news on the funky magic boogaloo front, but there’s just lots of dead ends so far. But that can wait. Are you...okay? At least, relative to our situation?

Good-hearted chuckle lept out of Eilidh—breaking the illusion of the spooky ghost in the corner. She closed the distance between the two, eyes curiously scanning the cover and pages of the book nestled in Morgan’s lap. More were strewn across the room, circling Morgan in a protective barrier, or perhaps a tomb—either for future study or determined unsuited. Where one group ended and the other began, she wasn’t sure. Mouth parted to offer assistance, her hands and mind well-versed to such a skill, but the words quickly died just as her flesh had. Wouldn’t be much use when turning a page was a difficult endeavor. She had learned that fact rather quickly.

When attentions were placed on her, Eilidh perked. “Aye. Convinced this guy his cereal was sentient. And some lady she could control plants.” Snort of delight shot out her nose as their faces returned to memory. But as the chuckles faded, so too did this delight. That lingering worry remained. A hand brushed her lips, seemingly in thought. “Also…” In absence of external stimuli, she bit on a knuckle. But where a prick of sensation, a prick of life, would usually awaken her hand, only a mere acknowledgement greeted her. Fucking hell, how has James not gone mad by now? A low growl rumbled, and at least it felt nice in her chest. Familiar. “Been going in and out. Kinda like blinking. If you did that with a soul. James says it isn’t normal. And they’re getting longer.” Another knuckle met her teeth; that same hollow impact replayed. “Guess it’s soon time.” Her eyes scanned Morgan, transferring the focus back to the other woman. Wandering gaze found the darkness under her friend’s eyes. “What ‘bout you?”

For what seemed like a long time, Morgan could only stare at her friend. Or rather, through her friend. She could see every title on the shelf behind her if she concentrated enough, because Macleod, despite speaking and smiling and grinning and mischief-ing as much as she had ever done, was incorporeal and transparent. Like a ghost. A baby undead ghost. Which wasn’t supposed to exist. “..Blinking? What? Uh, that sounds bad. And weird. I’ve never heard of ghosts doing that before. They cross over, and they have some kind of teleportation thing, but they don’t play peek-a-boo with a whole plane of existence. That’s…” Another very strange, logic defying twist of magic.

Morgan cleared her head and tried to answer Macleod’s questions. “I woke up at the beginning of the week able to feel again. All my physical senses that went dull were back. It took some adjusting, but I think it was more or less how they were when I was alive. But then my body started decaying even when I was full, or more than full, and healing was fading and now it’s basically gone! So I’m basically rotting away for no discernable reason, and I get to be super physically aware of all of it. Also, I smell, so maybe it’s a good thing you don’t have any senses right now. When did your stuff start? I mean, none of this should be happening at all, because the undead are immune to spellcasting magic that engages with our body’s energy, as far as I can tell, and we’re immune to most drugs and toxins, and I haven’t found anyone else in town being effected like this, so it’s not the big cosmic town bullshit--but if we can get a timeline, maybe that will tell us...something.” She sighed and closed the book in her lap, staring off into anywhere but Macleod’s face. The whole world was slipping through their fingers, just when she’d thought it really did want them after all.

Curt laugh escaped Eilidh. “Yeah. You’re telling me.” Just her luck to be subjected to the worst game of peek-a-boo in existence. Maybe her soul truly did want to pass over, but this supposed magic was keeping her here? Maybe the universe was trying to remedy the fact she shouldn’t have remained—at least not in this form—but the magic tried to go against the very will of the cosmos? Thoughts followed that tangent until it caused a dizziness. Bah, there’s too many maybes and what-ifs. She snapped a finger, sharp noise bringing her back to the present. Mind focused on Morgan’s words, her own story. As such a tale unfolded, her face fell, allowing that worry bubbling inside to find itself in her eyes, her parted mouth. Just as quickly, her eyes tightened, mouth closed, jaws tightened. Resolve overcame the worry, gave her goal new fire. “Aye. That is real bad.” Especially when it started so promising—the worst kind. “Best we hop to it prompto, then. Know anything I can look over? Double-check? Triple-check?” The ways of magic, the ways others shifted the energies of the world to their will, was not a strong subject of hers. But perhaps there were other pieces of the puzzle her ever inquisitive eyes could find. She needed that hunt, after all. Needed something to do—when all things physical brought boredom at best, her mind frequently rushed into restlessness.

Eilidh recalled the start of this plight. “I died beginning of this week.” The same as Morgan’s own unfortunes; a fact that did not escape her. “Or alchemied this way. Or some other magic.” At this point, she wasn’t sure which was true. Death was more reasonable to her. Familiarity always felt more reasonable, and she was very familiar with death. But Morgan seemed convinced its cause was magically induced and, well, she was the expert in that regard. Not Eilidh. “Blinked out the first time a few days later. Didn’t think too much of it. ‘Til a few more days later when it kept happening.” How much longer would this affliction let her speak with Morgan? Would it rip her away mid-sentence, as it had with Milo? Sharp snap of fingers returned. Temptation to bite the nagging thoughts away surfaced—to subject another knuckle to her teeth. But the snap sufficed. For now.

Morgan sat back, thinking. The town had already been shifted in the cosmos by the time she and Macleod were affected. And no one else she spoke to, dead or undead, was feeling anything strange in their body. So why them? And how? It didn’t seem right that the universe should literally change its rules just to be cruel to them. And if an alchemy break-through was responsible for Macleod, it didn’t explain her progressive deterioration. She would have to be confined to a circle in order for that to be the case, and the energy required to continually re-write her body would be outrageous.

She looked over at Macleod, aching to give her an answer. “I only have a few general compendiums on the stuff, but maybe there’s some kind of sickness, or some kind of critter that can affect people like us. Like, bookwyrms and brain biters mess with people’s brains, and there’s plenty of necrophages out there maybe…” Some magic, universe defying critter happened to chomp on both of them without their noticing on the exact same night? Morgan could hardly stand to hope for the idea, it sounded ridiculous enough in her head. But she had to try. If she stopped trying, this thing would take her. “Maybe there’s one that can explain this. Weird abilities that make people incorporeal or mess with their magic composition. Um, it’s those thick ones back there--” She pointed. “Or you could check out the area, see if anything unusual is sniffing around. Every critter’s gotta eat and sleep somewhere.” She smiled feebly. “We’ll figure this out before it’s too late. We’ve got too much to live for, right?”

“Critters!” The word shot out like a bullet. That was more Eilidh’s forte. A hand returned thoughtfully to her lips, though a bite did not come. Her mind was moving far too fast to focus on anything physical. Feet began to pace without her knowledge, beating against the air as if they contributed to her movements anymore. “Those bees cause hallucinations…” What were they called again? Those dick-hive bees. She had still yet to encounter them personally—such a treat will have to wait when she finally visits… that woman. Knowledge was acquired specifically for said venture, so she really should remember… “Eintykara.” But as research came tumbling back into her mind, so did an issue. “No. Cold.” Such weathers would cause them to grow sluggish—springing into action now would make no sense. “Hm. Caballi?” Her encounter with one had been very brief, but James’ was much more intimate. And she had certainly heard stories that mimicked their own. Of ghosts being attacked by them. Or more accurately, being fed upon by them. Could be the cause of their deterioration, those astral feedings. Perhaps they can affect zombies too? “But never saw…” They weren’t exactly invisible, to people like them. But much of them was left unknown, on this world at least. Could be a special sort?

More ideas flowed into Eilidh’s mind. And just easily flowed back out—conflictions and contradictions found in every sort. Though the universe was vast and wide and full of exceptions. Hardly anything could be said with certainty. And hardly everything was stored in her mind—that vastness refusing to be contained in just one thing. Or even in one world; creatures not found in any book had laid just beyond those cracks in the air. One, or two, or more could’ve slipped through. “You could be onto something.” Her feet stilled, and it was only then she realized she had been on the move at all. But they already missed that constant motion. Focus turned to the mentioned books, causing a chuckle to stir. “Would. But these guys do whatever the hell they want.” She wiggled her fingers and they blended and meddled together, like waves crashing into each other. “I’ll look ‘round. You focus on the books. We’ll see this through.” There was an attempt to turn and leave, but something held her there just a moment longer. Those hints of decay sprinkled on Morgan’s form—some grown worse over the course of their conversation. “Think you’ll manage?” The question spanning far beyond just Morgan’s research capability.

With the way Macleod lit up at the suggestion, Morgan could actually start to believe they were onto something. The world was full of strange things and there was so much they didn’t know. Of course if it wasn’t someone it had to be something. Maybe even a creature from another dimension. Some of the critters in those portals had probably gotten stuck on this side when Adam closed them, too, and maybe that was why they couldn’t understand the rules this infection worked on.

Morgan met Macleod’s eyes bravely. They were looking for a needle in a haystack. It might take weeks to comb through all of White Crest and identify the exact creatures they were looking for, especially if they turned out to be beyond sapient record on this world. But they would figure it out, wouldn’t they?

Somewhere beyond them, bewildered geese flapped their way to the sky and called to each other for safety, snow crunched under tired feet, a wind blew through the hollow tunnels of the world. Morgan took it all in, staring through the frosted windows. This was a world that buried its secrets better than its dead, but it was also one where life persisted in the most bitter cold. If anyone was proof of that, surely it was her and Macleod. And Morgan had a future to get to; Macleod probably did too, and if she didn’t, she deserved to stick around long enough to come up with one. So she had to be okay. There wasn’t room in this scenario for her not to be.

Morgan summoned her best smile and hoped with all she had that Macleod believed it and let some of the warmth rub off on her. “I’ve got this. And so do you. Death cut us a break once, right? Twice should be just as easy.”

That smile filled the air, found its way on Eilidh’s face, lifting her spirits in turn. Hell yeah. They had this. That implication hung in the air, threatened to bring it all back down. The one where she died. This soul she carried certainly had—will again. And technically death had touched her a few days prior. But the implication ran deeper than that, tied her to an assumption she kept getting chained to. But she did not let that weight touch her; only a twitch of a brow, a tighten of lips, betrayed these thoughts. Resolve kept her steady—kept them both just the same. Fate may try to give them a losing hand, but she’ll keep playing until a full house. And if not, well, seems she’s had her time then. Her soul will enjoy more, if these pesky blinks didn’t consume her in totality. For fate was hungry this week—eating away at her very soul, at Morgan’s very flesh. Was it feeding on others? How far did this hunger spread? She had no mind, no time to worry about passerbyers on the street. Those teeth readied to pierce again, steal more of them away. But she’ll try her hand at dentistry and rip them out before all was taken. “Good to hear! Let’s give this a–”

She vanished.

#wr eilidh #wr chatzy #wr eilidh chatzy #death rings twice

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dalish-spectre · 3 years ago

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Trust the abyss - a Baldur's Gate 3 backstory. Ch. 4 Haunting riffs of a vazhan-do pierced the air accompanied by the sharp vocals of a deathsinger – drow bards whose vocals could command the undead if they so chose.

Tonight, however, this vocalist was entertaining rowdy crowds of guards from the various noble houses of Menzoberranzan at a tavern located on the fringes of the bazaar.

It was called the Jewel Box and Dinin had never been anywhere like it before.

He had never been this drunk before either.

Kelzt and Masryn had insisted on dragging him out of House Darketh’s perimeters and into the noisy crowded streets of the heart of the spider city.

Before House Do’Urden fell, the former elder-boy had only visited the bazaar on rare occasions when his Matron Mother had required him to. He had never been permitted to drink. Even after joining Bregan D’aerthe, he had only ever indulged in a few drinks with the band’s leader Jarlaxle. He preferred to keep his mind sharp and sober but going undercover as a guard within Darketh, his first mission as a houseless rogue, he was expected to play the part.

It would be suspicious if he refused to drink with the two guards that had decided to befriend him.

He didn’t know how much algae ale they’d be able to polish back.

So here he was, five ales deep, being dragged into a brothel by two drow he hardly knew.

“Don’t scowl so much, Dinyrr, you’ll scare the whores away,” laughed Kelzt as they’d stepped through the door. “I’d say a brush with death is a perfect reason to wet one’s blade somewhere other than the belly of a hook horror.”

Masryn chortled from beside him. “Maybe that’s what he wants – have you ever been to a whorehouse before? I’ve heard Gracklestugh has several.”

“I’ve no need of whorehouses,” Dinin replied coolly as they took a seat at a stalagmite table, the alcohol softened the usual edge of his voice.

Kelzt’s own laugh reverberated through the cavern as he motioned a serving slave over.

“We’ll take a bottle of sul-paga here,” he said to an older dwarven woman who had been around long enough to not bother flashing her eyes in an alluring manner. She simply nodded and wandered back towards the bar.

The Jewel Box was filled with tables made of stalagmites, twisting upwards with slate tops. Stone benches on either side accommodated guests who wanted to sit.

It was lit by faerie fire, candles and glowing blue fungi wound its way around various stalactites that protruded down from the ceiling giving the place a very ethereal feel.

Kelzt rubbed his hands together as he looked around the room.

“We got here just in time,” he said. “Narbondel has only just died and that means the artists will be coming down soon.”

Dinin cocked an eyebrow.

“Artists?” He tried not to roll his eyes. “Why are they called artists?”

Masryn snorted.

“Why do you think? They are trained in the arts of sexual pleasure,” the young drow emphasized the first part of the word for effect, waggling his white brows up and down.

Dinin ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair anxiously. He needed another drink.

His hopes were soon answered as the dwarven woman returned with three glasses and a large bottle of sul-paga.

The crisp, distilled scent of the alcohol pricked the hairs up on the back of his neck as he watched Kelzt pour the clear liquid into his cup.

Masryn drank his own glass deeply, scrunching his face up. Dinin had only drank wine when he lived in House Do’Urden and he tried desperately not to make a face as the sul-paga burned his throat on the way down.

Sputtering, he wiped a gloved hand across his lips.

Kelzt watched the two younger drow, mirth shining in his dark red eyes as he casually sipped his own drink.

“Ah, youth rushes into everything – sul paga is to sip lads, it is made of the finest sul roots this side of the Underdark.”

The music took a frantic toll as the singer began the first verses of the beginning of Tornan’s Guts – a common song in Menzoberrazan though Dinin was not familiar with the words.

Chants and hymns to Lloth were all he knew of music. He found his foot tapping to the rhythm of the vahzan-do while a table next to them burst out singing loudly and offkey.

O’ Tornan was a great warrior indeed

The greatest warrior did Menzoberranzan ever see

A bell rang out above the singing, Dinin followed Masryn and Kelzt’s gaze at it shifted towards a staircase at the back of the room.

He took another swig of sul-paga as he watched silk-clad figures make their way down the stairs and mingle with the tables.

Much to Dinin’s dismay, his scowl did not in fact keep the whores away.

A surface elf slave with long red hair twined her way over to their table and sat down beside Masryn.

The last time he had been this close to a surface elf, he had inadvertently witnessed his family’s doom as his brother failed to please Lloth by killing one.

She spoke Undercommon quite well, he supposed, but he could not bring himself to find her attractive.

Masryn however had fallen under the enchantment of her tinkling laughter. She clutched a glass of dark liquor in one hand and used the other to brush away a strand of hair from the younger drow’s face.

“I personally don’t understand the appeal,” said Kelzt, watching the surface elf lead Masryn from the table. “Our young friend however appears to have a liking for pale flesh albeit a sadistic pleasure – here, anything goes as long as you don’t mark their faces.

It’s a pleasure house yes but it’s also a place where men are freely allowed to take out any emotion on a female.”

Dinin scoffed, “Surface females don’t matter.”

“Aye but it’s not just surface females here – there are drow ones as well, low-cast but drow,” Kelzt replied. “Master Dro pays a pretty penny to the council to keep the place in operation.”

The older drow explained how he thought the Matron Mother’s figured if there was a place the common guards could blow off steam it would make them more pliable.

“I’ve heard from our weapons master himself that Matron of Darketh pays the tab here for us idiots to keep us in line,” he continued. “If keeping me in line means all the paga and ale I can drink and a warm place to lay my cock then I’m all for it.”

“I could think of worse things I suppose,” Dinin swirled the clear liquid in his glass pensively. He watched a human female take off her top across the room with mild interest. Peals of laughter rang out from behind their table as a slender male drow clothed in a silk robe poured wine down a guard’s throat.

“It appears they cater to all tastes here,” He shifted in his seat to face Kelzt again. The alcohol was making his face warm or was it the atmosphere which was becoming slowly more debaucherous.

Kelzt nodded his head and took another drink.

He stole a priestess’s virginity

The scandalous line of Tornan’s Guts rang out above the din. Some of the crowd cheered and Dinin glanced over his shoulder, fearing the sting of a snake-headed whip.

Feeling none, the tension in his shoulders released. Old habits died hard.

For this Lloth could not forget

Tornan would have to pay his debt

She put a toll upon his soul

Kelzt had begun to sing along, periodically punching the air with the hand holding his glass, grinning.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Dinin’s lip as he watched the merrymaking a scene quite unfamiliar to him.

“Don’t you find it kind of funny that we’re singing a song about a man who was killed for defiling a woman at a place where men come to defile women?” Dinin asked, raising his voice over the chaos.

Kelzt laughed.

“The irony is not lost on me, young one.”

Suddenly a young male slid in between the two of them.

“Why Kelzt, I thought you had forgotten me,” the newcomer’s voice was smooth. His head was shaved on either side leaving a disheveled white strip of hair – black orbs for eyes that glittered in the candlelight of the table.

Dinin begrudgingly shifted to make room for Kelzt’s friend. The boy had a pleasing enough face and a cocky air about him.

“Ah, Naxir, how could I forget about you, you bring an old warrior so much joy,” Kelzt slid his arm around the younger drow.

“Such sweet words,” Naxir laughed and turned to fix Dinin in his stare. “Hello, who is this treat? Will he be joining us this evening?”

Kelzt laughed and shook his head while Dinin felt his cheeks burn. It had been sometime since he had indulged in the carnal pleasures of flesh and while Naxir was attractive, the thought of seeing the older soldier rutting didn’t interest him at all.

“I think I’ll pass this time,” he poured himself another drink and let his gaze wander as he halfheartedly listened to the old warrior flirt with the handsome young drow.

Tornan’s Guts had ended, and the bard seemed to be taking the crowd in the direction of a sensual macabre tune.

A familiar laugh rang out and Dinin noticed Taztar, the patrol leader of his squad, sitting two tables to the side of them with some other guards from House Darketh.

A slender figure in a short, flowing red dress was gyrating before them, unbound hair illuminated by faerie fire.

“Come closer, girl,” he heard Taztar growl and watched as the girl obeyed. Her skin was not as dark as Dinin’s and as she moved closer to the candlelit table, he could tell her hair was a dark silvery colour.

Suddenly one of the guards’ arms shot out and poured a mug of ale over her head. “Get out of here half-breed, you can tell Dro that I want the real drow tonight.”

Laughter exploded from the table as Taztar said, “We all want a real drow tonight lads.”

Dinin watched intently as the girl’s hand clenched at her side, the shocked look on her face quickly replaced by anger and she swung her fist, a soft thud as it connected with the guard’s face. Just as quickly as it happened, Taztar reached out and grabbed the girls arm and pulled her in roughly.

He couldn’t make out what the patrol leader said before shoving the girl backwards.

Impressed, he watched as she strode toward his table, delicate brows furrowed as she fought to keep a smile on her face.

As she passed, he found himself drawn to her – her delicate features belaying the scowl she was trying not to show.

He watched her enter a door near the back and come back out again with a white-haired female drow. They parted and for a moment he watched the new girl saunter over to Taztar’s table.

It was then he realized that Kelzt and his friend had left him alone. At least they had left him the bottle, but he cursed as he went to pour himself a drink.

What in the hells was he going to do now, wait for them to finish rutting?

Sipping his drink, he glanced about for the girl with the dark hair again when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He was mortified to see it was her.

“You’re staring at me.” Her voice was terse. “Do you see something that you like?”

Her arms were crossed causing the curves of her breast to peek up from the low cut of her dress.

“Yes – I mean, no, I’m not here to …” His words caught on his tongue as she glared at him.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s what they all say at first.”

“Well, I can guarantee you that I’m not like they,” he said. “And I’m not here looking for sex.”

“Let me guess, you probably have no problem picking up women – or men, whichever you prefer,” the girl sat down beside him and propped her cheek up with her hand.

Her eyes swept him up and down, assessing him. He leaned back in his seat fixing her with his own cool stare.

“Whichever I prefer depends on many things – why did you punch that guard, surely you’re lucky to not be injured,” he asked, truly curious.

To his surprise, she laughed, a strange melodic chuckle that made him want to laugh with her though he knew not why – probably the blasted sul-paga Kelzt had fed him.

Still he poured himself and the girl a glass.

“Hrazzra is an idiot, he comes here every tenday, my master hates him, but he likes Taztar’s money,” the girl paused, accepting the glass of liquor. “Besides, Taztar will make me pay for it later but it’s nothing I haven’t felt before.

“The trick is to make yourself numb and you don’t feel anything anymore.”

She emptied the glass with one smooth gulp without making a face. Dinin followed suit but was unable to keep the look of disgust off his face over the taste of the alcohol.

The girl laughed again.

“I prefer the taste of mushroom wine if I’m being perfectly honest,” he chuckled. “This stuff tastes like how the cleaners smell.”

“Mushroom wine – you have rich tastes for a common soldier.”

The alcohol had loosened his guard and he cursed himself inwardly.

“I have only been so fortunate that my former master would allow me wine after a victory in the slave pits of Graklestugh,” he attempted damage control, and briefly explained his backstory to the girl who watched his eyes intently as he told of how he was fortunate to be sold to House Darketh of Menzoberranzan.

“Well, former melee master of Gracklestugh, I bet I can find us some mushroom wine, stay where you are.”

The music remained at a mournful pace as she picked her way through the crowd towards the bar where the older dwarven lady polished the too-smooth slate.

It had been hours since Narbondel died and the number of patrons in the bar seemed to be getting less and less.

Dinin looked over to see that another surface elf had joined the white-haired drow girl at the patrol leader’s table. Only Taztar and two other soldiers remained and were tossing coins at the girls as they writhed on one another atop the stalagmite table.

“Noril and Alunira are very beautiful aren’t they,” Dinin almost jumped as the girl whispered in his ear, sitting back down beside him.

He turned to look at her and noticed she was grinning holding two large bottles of mushroom wine.

“I don’t have any fancy glasses, ussta zhennu sargitlan, but this is not a fancy place, we could drink it right from the bottle if we wished.” To emphasize her point, she uncorked a bottle and drank deeply, a little drip of liquid glowed green as it spilled from the corner of her lips.

He tried to hide the grin as she playfully called him my great warrior in high drow. For a slave, she was brazen and he found he liked talking to her.

“High drow, that’s an awfully rich language for a common slave,” he said, taking a swig of the wine, feeling almost sacrilegious drinking it straight from the bottle.

Her laugh was infectious as she snagged the bottle back from him, raising her eyebrows and cocking her head to the side.

She brought the tip of the bottle playfully to her lips before drinking then leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Maybe we both have … secrets,” her lips grazed his earlobe as she pulled away and offered him the wine coyly.

Flustered but intrigued, he changed the topic to mushroom wine and how it wasn’t as noble a drink as one might think as it was fermented from the most common fungi but as he was trying to cover up that the wine was made from mushrooms that had never seen any form of light, it was a highly arduous process, and she was nodding as if she believed him even though her eyes told him she didn’t, Taztar stumbled over to their table.

His breath reeked of ale.

“Ah, Dinyrr, I never expected to see you here – I didn’t know the house paid for slave soldiers to drink and fuck,” he slurred as he stood over them. “I see you’ve met my girl – Tavari – she may be a half-bred but she’s quite beautiful to look at.”

He gruffly grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look up at him. Her gaze steeled over.

“Yes patrol leader, she’s quite nice,” Dinin forced himself to play his part, as this common man’s lesser when he could easily slice out Taztar’s tongue and present it to Jarlaxle.

“Indeed she is and I think she’s quite done talking with you – it’s time for her to repay her folly in punching Hrazzra, don’t you think?

"We’ll take that extra bottle of mushroom wine as well, Tavari will need the extra help tonight.”

He made a show of knocking over the almost empty bottle they had been sharing. Dinin ground his teeth.

“Come girl,” he wrenched her up from her seat. Her face paled in the candlelight, she looked disheartened.

Suddenly, Dinin rose from his seat and grabbed Taztar by the shoulder.

“The girl stays with me,” he said, the alcohol he consumed wouldn’t allow the slight of this mere man – this third patrol leader of the 35th house of Menzoberranzan taking away his enjoyment.

The bard, whose interest had been piqued by the exchange began to play a new tune he had been commissioned to write. A song that would surely get the males blood up as it told the tale of the destruction of a noble house.

The fall of House Do’Urden.

Taztar laughed and shrugged off Dinin’s hand.

“I’ll have you killed,” he sneered, not letting go of the girl’s wrist.

As the singer began to sing of Lloth forsaking a once ancient and noble house, Dinin noticed the words of the song, speaking of Zin-Carla, Malice’s folly and a wayward son.

“The girl is with me tonight,” he growled., stepping in front of of the solider.

“Are you stupid? Did you hear what I said – I’ll have you killed and if not, the weapons master will have you sacrificed to Lloth for breaking the chain of command,” Taztar replied, dropping the girl’s hand and clenching his own into a fist.

Their faces were inches from each other, Dinin breathed heavily, egged on by the song.

“You’re nothing – you worthless,” Taztar’s slew of insults were cut short by the crack of Dinin’s fist against his jaw.

The thicker drow swung back catching Dinin in the lip, splitting it open. He tried to grab Dinin but the former master of melee magthere’s reflexes were quick as he swept to the side. He wasn’t a fist fighter as some were but his swift blows fueled by alcohol and rage were enough to fell the shorter drow to the ground.

The bard remained impassive and kept singing. Those left sitting around the tables cheered and promptly resumed drinking. Dinin’s heart was pounding. How dare there be a song about the fall of Do’Urden. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. He had potentially blown his cover for his mission. What would Jarlaxle do to him? He opened his eyes to see the girl, whose name was Tavari, stand up from kneeling over the prone form of Taztar. Her fingertips looked for a second as if they had glowed.

“Come with me,” she said, picking up the bottle of wine from the ground.

She grabbed his hand, he jolted back to reality at the physical touch.

“Taztar won’t remember anything,” she assured him as she led him up the stairs. “But, let’s get out of here before Master Dro sees him on the floor.”

“You really knocked him out,” the girl giggled as she led him past rooms filled with moans. He followed her down a dark windowless hallway, lit sporadically by candles.

She opened the door to the last room on the left, lit a candle – did she use a match? Dinin wasn’t sure. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and the alcohol was beginning to make him feel a little nauseous.

“Thank you for what you did back there, by the way, Taztar is awful, I hate him,” she crossed her legs as she sat down on the bed.

“I can assure you from working with him that I hate him as well. He allowed half of our latest patrol to be slaughtered by hook horrors,” Dinin replied, sitting beside the girl on the thin mattress. “We haven’t properly introduced ourselves, my name is Din-in-yrrr.” He almost stumbled out his real name. “Dinyrr, it’s Dinyrr. My apologies, I don’t usually drink this much.” He was embarrassed to note that he was almost slurring his own words.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Din-nin-yrr, my name is Tavari and I am always drunk,” the girl chuckled but the laugh didn’t reach her eyes.

“Just Dinyrr is fine, and you shouldn’t drink so much, it’s not good for the mind. A mind like yours is only diminished by liquor,” he sloppily scolded her.

“That’s very sweet,” she replied. “Now, you have me up here – you said I’m yours tonight, what would you wish of me?”

She began to slide off the thin red fabric that barely covered her lithe form, but Dinin stopped her muttering shhh.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said. “Let’s just finish this troublesome bottle of wine.”

He helped pull the dress back over her head. The girl, Tavari looked shocked then laughed, deep from her soul, her eyes gleaming in the candlelight. He couldn’t help but join her – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much.

“What do you want to just talk?” She asked playfully. “I’ve never had a man nor woman ever buy me just to talk. It’s not normal.”

“I’m not normal,” he replied slurrishly, with a grin passing her back the bottle of wine.

She nodded her agreement.

“What do you want to talk about?” She shifted closer to him, propping her cheek on her hand as she had earlier that night.

“Memories,” he replied, looking out the window, the streets of the bazaar were quiet this deep into Narbondel’s death.

“Good or bad,” she asked.

“Are there such things as good memories?” He countered, turning to look back at her again with a wry smile.

“Not really,” she shrugged.

They continued to pass the bottle back and forth, each sharing their own cryptic stories, edging towards truths they could never share with one another.

The last thing Dinin’s half-blurred vision noted as the two laid facing each other on the threadbare mattress was the colour of her eyes as Narbondel’s first light filtered through the small window.

Orange, like the flame of a candle. https://archiveofourown.org/works/33301066/chapters/84017953

#forgotten realms #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #menzoberranzan #mc: tavari #drow ocs #half drow #am writing #writer #fanfiction #tw: violence #dinin do’urden #drow #long post #trust the abyss #these two ...#be living rent free in my head

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crystalirises · 3 years ago

Text

The Promise of Rest (The Promise of Blood II)

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

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

So, have this fluff and angst XD

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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pink-peony-princess · 4 years ago

Text

Fight for You

"Why do people do this to themselves?" I shouted to Shawn and Peter over the roar of the crowd as Raul's fist made contact with his apponents cheek- a sickening crack ringing out around the cramped room."It's barbaric!"

"It's actually quite ordered," Peter counted, eyes not leaving the action. "There's more that they can't do than they can."

"I still think it's stupid," I grumbled, before jumping and slapping my hands over my eyes as Raul copped a nasty hit to his chest.

The only reason I'd come to see the fight was to support Raul I'd been friends with the Triplets since we were about 5, having immediately hit it off with them on the first day of preschool. We'd been inseperable since, but I'd always had a soft spot for Raul,we just seemed to get each other- and he was always so protective of me.

In middle school he'd punched Jacob Connor's out (the resident bully) when he'd somehow found out I'd started my period and spread it around the school like wildfire. Raul had been given a 5 day suspension for it, but he'd always maintained that 'it was worth it, the little weasel got what he deserved.'

As we grew we only got closer,we were each other's confidant, the one person who we trusted with all our secrets, or biggest dreams and our deepest fears. That didn't stop us going through the awkward phase where you realise that maybe you like the other person, but are too much of a scaredy-cat to do anything about it.

Everyone could see it, my friends at school, Peter and Shawn, even my parents told me I should do something about it.

"Don't fret, Kara, your boy will be fine," Shawn laughed teasingly looking down at me bring me back to the present. The boys towered over me at 6'2 they were well over a head taller than me.

"How can you say that?He's your brother," I was appalled. They had absolutely no concern for the fact that their brother, their triplet no less was being pummelled like a car at a junk yard.

"Because," Shawn continued. "It might not look like it, but Raul has the upper hand, he's more agile on his feet, can move faster than the baffoon he's facing,"

I couldn't help but laugh at the description. Compared to Raul,the guy he was versing really did look like a monkey.

Despite the fact that ever fibre of my being wanted nothing more than to go up there and rescue him, I couldn't help but watch in awe as Raul served punch after stratigic punch to his apponents, before finally the referee called time and he was declared the winner.

"You know he does it for you," Peter spoke.

"Does what?" I asked confused.

"Fights, he fights for you, to impress you."

"Don't be stupid," I rolled my eyes, but I was stunned, was he really doing it for me? Why did he feel he needed to impress me?

"I'm going to the toilet," I called to Peter as people started slowly filing out the doors, satisfied with the gratuitous violence they'd witnessed, now no-doubt board.I needed some air,space to think.

As I made my way slowly towards the doors, being all but pushed,forced by the sheer numbers of people baring down on me I started to regret not asking one of the boys to accompany me.

This side of town wasn't exactly known as a safe haven and I wasn't even sure where I needed to go.

And Raul's words of warning 'never go anywhere this side of town without one of us,' rang through my head, as I made my way out into the alley behind the delapidated building and into the night air which was full of the smell of stale cigarette smoke.

"Hey there pretty," a group of guys yelled as I walked past, before wolf whistling. I shuddered and picked up my pace, reaching for my bag that was across my body to try and call one of the boys. I no longer felt safe, in fact I was starting to panic, my hands shaking as I dug blindly through my small purse trying to find my cell. In my haste and in attention, I failed to noticed a massive dip in the run down concrete and before I had a chance to correct it,my foot was falling in, my ankle twisting as I fell heavily to the ground. My hands stung as they made harsh contact with the gravel covered floor.

I sat there for a minute dazed, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry. Why did this have to happen now? Why not when I was with the guys? I wondered, a few tears leaking from my eyes I scrubbed them away angrily trying to get up, but to no avail. It was useless. I knew I needed help, but I wasn't sure how to get it, there was no way I was going to ask the men down the street for help.

"Kara? Is that you," I looked up with a sigh of relief immediately recognising the voice and he tall figure. It was Raul, making his way out from behind the building,bag slung over his shoulder,still covered in a sheen of sweat, his muscle top sticking to his chest highlighting his toned physique.

"What happend, why aren't you with Shawn and Peter?" he asked jogging down the street and dumping his bag in the ground before bending down in front of me.

"I got lost," I sighed. I tried to move my ankle which was now throbbing,wincing as a sharp, white-hot pain shot through my foot.

"I'll kill those dimwits," he growled as he looked at me.

"Don't blame them, it was me. I went to find a toilet and I didn't ask one of them to come with me," I explained,my voice shaky from pain and fear.

"How could you be so stupid!" he yelled surprising me. He looked livid."How many times have I told you," he hissed shaking his head, reaching for my foot, but I yanked it away despite the instant ache of protest it gave off. If he was going to be a sick, I didn't want his help,I felt bad enough already.

"Why are you being such a fucking asshole?You know what, don't worry, I'll find my own way home," I spat,tears running down my cheeks unchecked as I glared at him. I struggled to get up, using the wall behind me as support, but eventually made it. As soon as I put weight on my foot though I collapsed. The firey ache that started instantly was now worse than ever.

"I'm sorry," he puffed out. "I'm just worried I'd hate for you to get hurt,I love you," he whispered the last part, by I heard it. It took everything in my power to stay calm,it wasn't like I didn't know it, but I'd never expected him to admit it.

"I am hurt," I replied cooly, pointing to my foot.

"More hurt," he amended his eyes going dark,the grim look on his face didn't make it hard to guess what he was thinking and I shuddered.

"I'm going to take the shoe off," he told me, working quicky but carefully to release my foot from the confines of the heel I'd been wearing.

I couldn't help the hiss that left my lips as it finally feel free.

"Sorry," he apologised softly, much calmer than before. "It's already swelling," he commented as he took the foot in his hand and carefully manipulated it.

"I don't think you've torn anything, but I'll wrap it to make sure," he nodded to himself, unzipping the bag he'd discarded beside me and pulling what looked like strapping tape out.

"How do you know so much?" I asked as he took my foot in his hands again, very carefully wrapping the fabric around it, before pulling it tight. I could feel it throbbing,but I said nothing, not wanting to complain. It did feel better than it had before, but I knew by the time I made it home it'd need to be iced.

"Honey you learn this stuff when you fight, you have to fiend for yourself," he responded,"There all done," he added as he admired his work.

"Give me your hand," he spoke.

"What?"

"Your hands, they're bleeding."

"Ohh," I held my hands out for him to take. He tipped some water onto them which stung like hell, and wrapped them, before placing a kiss on each of my knuckles, causing me to blush. It was lucky it was dark and dimly lit because I knew that itlf he'd noticed he would have teased the daylights out of me.

"Thank you," I took his hand that he was holding out and let him pull me up, leaning into him instinctively.

"No worries, wouldn't want an invalid walking around town now, it'd ruin the street cred," he winked, causing me to laugh. This was the side of Raul that I was used to, the cheeky, unapologetically flirty, protective Raul.

"Nah really, of course I'd look after you, you're my favourite girl," he kissed my forehead as we made our way to find the others at which point Raul promptly chewed out their ears about the dangers of leaving me alone and their completely mind-blowing stupidity which had them both looking extremely guilty.

It was quickly forgotten though as we went on to celebrate his victory, Raul never leaving my side,checking every so often that I was okay, even going so far as to find pain killers for me which helped a heap.

"Thank you," I told him again as we piled into a taxi- Peter already having gone home and Shawn still partying. Normally Raul was the party animal, but he'd insisted he go home with me to make sure I got there in one piece.

It wasn't like I was going to say no, I appreciated the sweet gesture.

"Don't sweat it. You're my girl," he answered, kissing me again, but this time on the lips momentarily stunning me.

"And you're my boy," I giggled,beaming.

"So how about we make this official?" he suggested, that cheeky grin that I loved so much present again.

"I thought you'd never ask," I responded, reaching up to kiss him again.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagines #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #doctor!shawn #mendes triplets #werewolf!shawn

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monsoonblooms12 · 4 years ago

Text

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 7- Hide & Seek

Summary of the Series: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

A/N: Okay, let me get this straight. This is ALL Action and Miles being evil. The most happening chapter of the series, and my favourite chapter because it brings out that fighter inside Pooja. Also, a lil bittersweet moment because only 2 chapters are left, and then we are done. (And I am using my Wattpad cover for this chapter because A. I like it! and B. It gives me the dark feels that embody this chapter) Anyway, hope you enjoy it as much as I did when I wrote it!💛

If you enjoy the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going💕

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Dr Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: about 4.3K

Rating: Teen

Triggers: Curse Words, Mentions of blood, murder Gun Violence

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Prompt:- @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 14: Now or Never

CATCH UP HERE: Previous Chapter I Complete Series

It took all of her self-control as she prevented herself from throwing away her phone and breaking it into a thousand pieces.

Only the thought, the hope of a chance to save her Ethan, to save Mark and Alex, who were like family to her kept her going.

It was A Now or Never Moment for her.

Seconds later, Pooja's phone tinged. The screen lit up. She unlocked it to see the address that glared from her screen towards her. The address that hid all secrets and all proofs. The address which held the love of her life in who knows what condition.

She got into the car, entered the address on GPS and drove as fast as her driving skills allowed. Her mouth turned dry, face pale, beads of sweat on her forehead, her mind whirling through numerous unpleasant thoughts and a lingering doubt,

Will she be able to save them?

After what felt like a lifetime to her, Pooja arrived at her destination. A mid-sized mansion stood tall amid a deserted locality. The place was so muted, that the silence seemed to make voices. The winds gushed, chilling her bones. She stood in front of the black wood door. The silver handle's shine was unsolicited for her eyes. She took a deep breath.

Do this, for them. They are your family.

The thought repeated in her mind like verses of an orison. She let the ire, the woe to flood her soul and with fortitude and balance, she pushed the door.

He had kept it open.

The door clicked in place as she entered the devil's edifice. The interior was tenebrous, the conspiracy of silence etched deep in every wood and every wall.

"You are here"

The sudden sound caused Pooja to quail. The words resounded throughout the mansion, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. The sweat on her body contrasted with the rigour of the air.

There was no doubt in her mind. Her caller was here.

Miles Danvers was here.

But... She Looked Around. Where is He? She looked around, maybe it was a mirage. She looked everywhere but there was no sign of him.

"Don't try, You won't be able to see me." The ominous voice struck again.

Another chill ran down her spine. The thought of Ethan being unaccompanied in the devil's edifice with the devil himself was unbearable.

Will I be able to do this?

"Awww, Tsk, Tsk, is little blossom scared? Did I give her a heart attack?" Miles spoke mockingly.

That was the last straw. She would never give him the satisfaction of having scared her. With as much courage she could muster she yelled,

"AHHHH! You ruthless, sinister, cruel, heartless, disgusting monster. What the freaking hell do you want? Why the hell are you doing this? You are a goddamn monster, you are a freaking BASTARD."

She stopped for a breath.

"Not only that, you are a coward. You are a goddamn fucking coward. You don't dare to face the consequences of your actions. Hell, you don't even dare to come out and face me. If you had the courage, you wouldn't do what you have done. Now come out, you ruthless bastard. Get the hell out and come and face me." Pooja screamed hysterically.

"What will you get by yelling at me, hmm? Will Mark and Alexandra be out of jail? Or will you find Ramsey? Which one, huh?"

"You're the one who is responsible for all of this. You disg-"

"Do you want to save them?"

She felt as if her heart had stopped. Her mind pondering with hundreds of thoughts, doubts, yet she waited with batted breath for him to continue.

"Le silence signifie le consentement."

"J'accepte" Pooja muttered. Bloody Show Off

"Hmm. Three Clues, Three tips, Three keys. Three is your lucky number, isn't it? So let's put your luck to test and see if your lucky number is lucky enough to save your dear ones" Miles challenged her with a mock that boiled her blood. Seeing her helpless was utter humour for his soul and he was cackling in joy.

She shouted, hurled abuses, banged her fists, but there was no answer, no reply other than "You are running out of time... Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha...."

Her legs were giving out, she felt herself losing her balance, her steadiness. A chance, wasn't that all you needed? She heard her alter ego questioned her.

So good friends, like family, huh? Is this what you do for family, fall and bow to danger without putting up a fight? Is this what you did, when you fought for your mother, give up just like that?

Her sane mind was questioning her. No. She didn't give up then, She will not give up now. Maybe she will never make it out of here, maybe nor will they. But it was better to die fighting for them, than dying without even trying, striving for them.

"Miles", her steady voice, with power and courage, surprised him for a moment, but he wasn't shocked. This was Pooja Sharma after all. One who always stood for the right, even if it would make her lose her dreams.

"I am ready. And I hope you are too."

"Are you sure? This game can take that breath from you."

"Until it does, I will fight. For them"

A part of his mind already knew that she would win. But for his ego, accepting defeat was never an option.

"Fight all you want to. But winning is not an option for you."

"Time shall tell the answer"

"Alright, Two rooms to the left, and your search beginsss."

She ran. The worn-out door refused to give way to her. She pushed, but her strength was not enough. If only you had drunk that milk your mom gave you. Her mind swirled to the thoughts of her mother and she had to give a jerk to come back to the present.

"Seven minutes up already, and you're still stuck at the door. How sad!"

Cursing him under her breath, she upped her power and got ready to give a push just as,

Her fingertips felt a carving on the door. She had been praised for her impeccable sense of touch, but she never knew that it would come in handy in a dire situation one day.

Her mind, her heart, indicated that this was the clue, and she slowly, gently, moved her palm on the door. She got a slight trail of the carving and followed it further a few times. It took her about a minute to comprehend what it was.

A word. TIME. She was looking for something to do with time. But what? The place was so quiet that one would hear the ticking. But she didn't. Although auditory skills were never her strong point after she had a blockage in her left ear and had to go through five doctor visits to clear it, she was sure that there was no analogue clock around her. Her brain cells were running haywire when her shoes rubbed the floor. Sand had been spread around. Consciously.

Because on her trail from the main entrance to the door she was standing in front of right now, she was sure she hadn't felt sand anywhere other than this specific space. This was an indication, It had to be.

Time and Sand, Time and Sand, where do we find time and sand together. Time and sand... Her mind rushed frantically through a dozen options, none fitting the criteria, while Miles smirked at her foolishness.

And then, Oh shit, HOURGLASS! She practically jumped and nearly fell, as she comprehended the answer. With the newfound energy, she pushed the door, and it opened with a BANG! Her hand went to her pocket and she almost shrieked as she felt her phone, about which she had completely forgotten the moment she set her step in here. Taking it out and switching on the flashlight, she trailed into the room. Looking around and tripping on a dozen articles, she finally located the semi-broken hourglass. She held it under the flashlight and the words, upstairs, three rooms right, written in red, came to sight.

She glanced around the room once more, to make sure that there was nothing she was leaving out.

Her eyes stopped their search as her eyes fell on the five drawers of the broken cupboard on which the hourglass was kept. Only one of the drawers was in place, and that made it seem out of place in midst of all the chaos. She pulled at it, Once, Twice, Thrice, before it gave way. A blue file lay inside it. She picked it up, hoping to find some useful information and rushed on to the next step of her search.

On the other side, a corner of Miles's mind was terrified and nagged him to do something before it was too late, and he became the loser of his own game. But he just sat there, not moving an inch, as he watched Pooja running towards her next destination.

The next door, to her surprise, was pretty sturdy and opened easily. No catch this time? Unbelievable. As far as she had come to know Miles Danvers, setting up clues right in front of her eye was a far-fetched possibility.

She double-checked the exterior. Nah, nothing here, she was sure of it. Her silent steps fell on the hardwood floor as she looked around in the room for the clue. Her mind got distracted and worry came flooding back. Will she be able to save them? Was she even going to make out of her alive?

Suddenly, her foot struck something and,

"Twoooo Roooomsss Toooo Theee Rightttt..."

The Echo and her Shriek came almost simultaneously. And with the two sounds, mixed the third one of a cackle, from Miles.

The sudden rush of Adrenaline left her panting.

After a few minutes wasted in overcoming it, she kicked the weird machine once more. The Echo came again, this time clearer than the first one. But since, she didn't trust her ears, or maybe it was just her anger speaking, she kicked it once more.

Two rooms to the right was her next destination. She moved towards the exit, having checked the surroundings already and no clue found.

A few footsteps outside the room later, a thought struck her. She rushed back to the previous room, and using her flashlight, picked up the echo machine and checked it thoroughly.

And right her intuition was! A piece of paper stuck between the lined back. She took it out and unfolded it. It was a code.

M14-6D9

She looked around. There had to be something that opened with the code.

Wow! Such thorough checking! She rolled her eyes, berating her self.

And as she did so, her mind went back to every time Lex had called her the living image of the 🙄 emoji.

A light, sorrowful chuckle escaped her, along with a lone tear.

She let it drop and moved on to complete the mission she had partaken in.

She searched, and Nah, Nothing at all. Pooja doubtfully looked around. Was she missing out on something, or was it just another one of Miles' Red Herrings to mislead her?

Five seconds and temporarily deciding on the second option, she went out to the next room and thought of coming back to this later.

Pooja went to grab the surprisingly well-kept handle, and in a reflex pulled it back. The handle was abnormally hot. It felt out of nowhere. No fire, no nothing, how the hell was the door handle so freaking hot?!

Of Course, she couldn't twist and turn a burning hot doorknob and harm her chances of success. So, she decided on other ways of opening the door. She kicked, pushed, forced it with the tad bit of strength left in her, but the door didn't even budge a single inch.

Her ankle sprained with the forceful kicking, she sat down. Tears rolled down her eyes, but she couldn't decide why.

The pain in her ankle, the fear of failing or a mix of both?

But obviously, No pain greater than letting down those whom you love.

She couldn't comprehend the time she was losing as she sat there, crying silently. She slowly started to rise, but couldn't bother to wipe her tears. Wasn't this what Miles Danvers wanted to see? She let him enjoy his short-lived victory.

Forgetting that the doorknob was hot as hell, she held it, and before she could withdraw her hand, her eyes fell on a cuboidal machine stuck just below the spherical structure.

This time, she did wipe the water from her glassy eyes, to get a better look.

Pooja switched on the flashlight and looked closely at it. So this was the mini devil burning her palm. After a few minutes of scrutinizing the black box closely, her eyes caught a red button on the downside of it. She went on to switch it off, and as soon as she did, the faint, almost inaudible buzz coming from it stopped.

The devil had been silenced.

But she knew that it would take time for the knob to cool down. She searched her jean pockets, and luckily her baby blue handkerchief with a neat P Alekhya has sewn on it was there to save the day.

She folded the kerchief in half and with it tried twisting the knob. A Few failed attempts later, she slowly opened the door.

But as soon as the light fell inside the room, her phone and kerchief, both fell on the floor.

The floor swayed under her feet. In front of her on a one-arm broken couch, lay Ethan.

Her Ethan.

The only light-emitting source of the room now lay covered on the floor, preventing her from taking a better look. And she was shaken to the core by the way events unfolded, layer by layer, that there was nothing to say at all.

Her brain froze, all ideas drowning down the drain, her confidence uprooted by the pain she felt seeing her love like that. A Thousand thoughts spiralling in her mind, but she pushed them aside. Her knee bruised by the fall, her feet wobbled as she tried to get up. Garnering strength on an empty stomach & little sleep was becoming increasingly difficult for her, but she needed to go on.

Giving up was never an option

She got up and decided to look around for a way out of the musty building with Ethan, all while hiding from Miles' eyes. Because he had been keeping an eye on her.

Picking up her phone, she directed the light around the room. Raggedy and Unclean, her fingers clenched around her phone as she felt fury fill in her veins. If she didn't have morals, she would have killed Miles herself at that very instant.

There were no cupboards or drawers anywhere around the room. She strolled around with careful steps and heard dry leaves and glass crunching underneath her foot. Pooja looked at the floor, and seeing its condition, didn't hope to find anything helpful.

That's when her eyes fell on a piece of paper. She picked the dust-coated sheet which had become brown from its originally white colour. She tried opening it up using a single hand but ended up tearing it a bit. Pocketing her phone, she opened the sheet up gently and then took the phone out again. Flashing the light, she slowly went through the contents.

It was a map of the building, and she had never felt as grateful as she did at the moment.

She studied it closely, carefully and located a narrow stairway at the corner of the first floor, i.e. the floor she was on, that would lead her out of the building without having to use the main entrance.

She needed to take E out of here, at any cost. But how in God's name was she going to carry her Dr Giraffe alone, all while making sure Miles didn't have suspicions?

She made his unconscious body sit upright as the couch creaked. This broken shit isn't going to last much longer, she thought to herself. She couldn't take any chances of getting caught. Whatever you have to do, do it quick.

She bent and locked his arms around her neck. Then, she stood up slowly and an Uff! escaped her mouth. Wish I had paid attention to the weight lifting lessons.

Pooja lifted him off the sofa and enclosed his long, really long legs, around her waist. And as she started to walk, she stumbled back and forth, and almost fell, as she gained a stable posture. She slowly got out, making sure her shoes don't prompt the creaky floorboards to begin a musical. She scooted to the farthest edge of the floor and walked quickly to reach the darkest corner.

A walk of a lifetime and approaching the darkness, her eyes struggled to make out the door for the staircase. She trusted her intuition and slowly, very carefully, placed a foot in front of the other, as she made her way down. She worried that E might get hurt, and she would hate herself for the rest of her years if that happened.

The grey light at the end of the staircase was a ray of hope for her. She thanked her past self for parking the car closer to this side of the building as she hurried to place Ethan there. She felt her pockets and found the key faster than her expectation. She opened the passenger seat and placed E down on the floor because as much as she hated it, she couldn't take chances with Miles locating him in the car in case he came for a lookout.

Phew! She was relieved that whether or not she makes it out of the mess she had got tangled in, her love will be safe. Locking him safely in, she rushed back to the mansion.

On her way back, she rushed a bit too much, all while forgetting to switch on her flashlight. She tripped badly on the stairs and fell facedown. When she got up, the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She felt a blank space in her mouth. She had lost a tooth.

She made her way back and expressed her gratitude to God for letting her make this trip safely. She remembered to shut the door behind as she left and made her quickly to the room where Ethan was held captive. A mistake she had noticed the time she looked at the map was that she had entered the wrong room.

And it was a four-leafed clover for her.

She closed the door of the forbidden room just as her ears pricked up. Tips & Taps of someone's footsteps made her heartbeat rush as she quickly moved to the actual room she was supposed to be searching.

"Hmmm" Miles arrived behind her, hands in pocket. The room in front of her didn't have a door.

"So are you planning to spend the rest of your life chillin' here? That'll be a wonderful plan!" He mocked her and the list of the number of times Poo had wanted to punch him had just become longer.

"What the fuck do you want?" She hissed.

A lopsided grin told her that he was having the best time of his life tormenting her.

"No, I just wanted to check if you will ever make out of here or not."

"And what conclusion did you arrive at?" She mocked curiosity.

"I think- No, scratch that. I am sure, that this" He gestured around him, "is your Final Destination"

His grim laughter filled the place as he went around, checking his surroundings, especially the forbidden room.

Poo had smartly switched on the Make-Hot machine to avoid any suspicions. Seeing, rather, feeling that the door handle was perfectly hot as hell, he returned, and she let out the sigh of utmost relief.

Her heart was filled with gratitude as she thanked God, over and over again, as things turned out in her favour in a place where she had no resource & no help. Although she still felt as if she had been left on the battlefield without preparation or weapons, she used her skills to pave her way safely.

The last room, surprisingly well-kept, lay open before her. Please let me pass this last one, she let out a silent prayer and went in.

Flashlight on, she looked around. This time it was only evidence and no clues and keeping that in mind she carried on her search. A bed lay at the centre of the room. All around were shelves and cupboards which had been kept to mislead her and make her waste her time. A 40% charge in her phone and the clock telling her that she had only 20 minutes left to get out safely, she hurried away.

Quickly opening one drawer and then the other, disappointment flooded her as she failed to locate any file, folder, hell, even a piece of paper.

At last, all drawers, cupboards done and nothing there at all. She felt let down, her heart palpitated. She sat down on the bed and as she placed her hand, heard the very soft scrunch of paper. The stillness of the surroundings was the reason why she could hear it.

She quickened her actions and lifted all the goddamn blankets, to reveal a bunch of paper, half folded, half-torn. She gathered them all. Suddenly she felt something stuck behind one of the sheets. Turning it revealed a USB drive.

Fuck, this was her gold!

She rushed out, picking the papers and the blue file she had collected from the first room. She remembered to check back the second one and the M something code. When she tried to reopen the door, however, she failed. All her trials went in vain. Unlike last time, the door didn't even budge this time.

And then, the entire manor shook as the roar of a bullet echoed all around her. It had been shot just next to her foot, and she stood frozen at her place. She slowly turned around, and saw Miles, with the evil expression on his face appearing to shine in dim light, standing there with a gun.

Slowly, Stuttering, Pooja asked, "What, what, t-the h, hell do you think you are, are doing?"

"I said I will give you the clues, I never said I will let you get away with them. Why would I invite my danger, when putting you to the deathbed would be much, much, easier?" Miles Danvers hissed.

"You want to do a second murder, lose the chance to save your brother forever?"

At the mention of Mark, Miles did fall a little weak, but that passed in a heartbeat.

"Girl, if I really cared about him, I would have never plotted against him in the first place. Bringing you here, was just a ploy, a mask, so that I can finish all four of you and live my life in peace."

He moved forward, one step and the next, as Pooja tried to run. He held her hand with a bone-crushing grip and twisted her hand to her back and held the gun to her cheek. She tried to free herself as she cried out in pain. Her eyes widened as the cold metal touched her skin.

She had really walked into hell at her own will.

Pooja knew her twisting and turning will not be able to help her a bit. So she tried to remember the self-defence techniques she had learnt in her teens and using her foot, kicked him hard in the groin.

He groaned in pain and his attention shifted. Pooja taking the chance, ran swiftly down the stairs, only to slip down the stairs and land on the ground floor. She incurred painful injuries and couldn't move for a good minute.

Even as she mustered the courage to sit up, her body ached in extreme pain. She must've sprained something real bad. Miles was still withering in pain, and she took the chance to get up and slowly move towards the exit.

She dragged her foot and muttered to herself,

Just one more step, just one more.

This rhyme gave her the strength as she almost made it to the door and then

AAH!

Blood splattered on the ground as the bullet pierced through her left hand, and she held the door to support herself. Tears rushed out of her eyes as Pooja screamed in pain.

At least it was her hand and not her mind that had been hurt. Even in pain, she acted smart. Throwing away the files that she held in her right hand outside, she took out the pepper spray that she always had in her pocket and sprayed a good bit of it at the approaching Miles.

It was her black, powdered dynamite, her most powerful weapon.

Coughing, Sneezing, Stumbling, Miles let out cries of help and the gun was very soon forgotten.

Smirking through her tears, Pooja chanted, It's the end Miles, It's the end.

Getting out of there, She shut off the main entrance door on his face and collected all the papers with her non-injured hand. Dragging her foot slowly, she escaped, pride and contentment filled in her heart.

Whatever she did, whatever pain she received, all paled as she bathed in the joy of the possibility of finally being able to rescue her people, her persons.

She did it, for her family...

You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice.

PS: I would have killed Miles myself if given the chance😡 Also sorry for this dark, twisty tale after my birthday. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this mess and here's to hoping that you have a wonderful day ahead🧡! Love You!

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