#(The second panel is supposed to be him looking at his reflection but it’s hard to tell lmao) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingsofwerewolves · 10 months ago

Text

I'm not posting this to AO3 because it's utter trash. 😂

But here you go. Enjoy my keyboard-testing nonsense, featuring Vikram and a handful of characters from the werewolf YA romance series "Grey Wolves Series" which sucked but I was kinda obsessed with as a teen.

“He’s kinda hot,” Jen remarked, peeking between the blind’s panels. “His eyes are so blue you can see them from here!”

“I wanna see!” Sally piped up, lightly pushing Jen aside to get a look, “Oh boy, he knows how to wear jeans.”

“Come on, Jillian,” Jen called, “Come see.”

I sighed and got to my feet to move over to the window. The girls moved aside to make room for me and I lifted one of the blinds’ panels to see. The new arrival was standing beside a car, his face in profile as he spoke to an older man. He was young, for sure. As was to be expected. Though his features looked sharp, especially his jawline and nose. Handsome, for sure, but nothing that particularly excited me.

Though, I couldn’t deny the look of his pale skin with his dark hair wasn’t too far from my type. Plus the tight long sleeved shirt he wore showed that his arms had some thickness to them. Which was very much my thing. Ultimately, though, he looked too young for me.

“So?” Jen prompted.

“So?” I repeated with a shrug, my eyes still on the boy, “He’s okay.”

Just as the words left my mouth, the boy turned, looking around as if someone had called his name. Then his eyes went up to the second story bedroom of my house, looking straight at me. I froze, unable to move as his blue eyes locked with mine.

“My Luna,” I heard a voice in my head say.

My jaw dropped open.

“No fucking way,” I breathed aloud.

“What?” Sally asked, “What happened?”

I swallowed hard and watched as the boy smiled and turned back to his companion, resuming his conversation.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, “Nothing at all.” I pushed away from the window.

“Aw, he’s going inside,” Jen pouted, “Well, we’ll see him at school next week.”

“Jillian’s mom’ll probably wanna go say hi,” Sally pointed out, “We could tag along. That okay, Jill?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said distractedly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah… fine. Absolutely fine.”

My mom hadn’t wanted to go over right away. The new guy needed time to settle in, she said. So the three of us had a sleepover, with plans to head over to his host family’s house with a hot meal in hand for lunch.

I tossed and turned all night, unable to fall asleep.

It was so familiar. It was a book. It wasn’t supposed to be real.

But then again nothing about my life was supposed to be real…

Finally at two AM, my friends snoring away, I climbed out of bed and tip toed into the bathroom, gently shutting the door. I turned on the light and looked my reflection in the mirror.

I hated what I saw there. I hated my long hair and my soft features. It wasn’t what I was supposed to look like. But I couldn’t do anything about it yet. I was in high school. Not only high school but a small Texan high school. Once I graduated, I could do what I wanted, but not yet.

Shaking myself, I focused my mind. I pictured the boy and sent out a tentative, “Hello?”

I felt a jolt of surprise. Not my surprise. Someone else’s.

“Luna?” a voice answered.

“My name’s Jillian,” I said aloud to my reflection in a whisper.

“Of course. I’m sorry. I just… didn’t expect this.”

“You didn’t expect this?” I said wryly, “You seem a bit less surprised than me to be talking to someone in your head.”

“Well, yes,” he admitted sheepishly, “It’s… It’s a long story. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Shouldn’t you?” I returned, “And you haven’t even told me your name yet.”

“Fane,” he replied. “I was having trouble sleeping. I assume you were as well?”

“A bit,” I rolled my eyes, “I was left a bit shaken after suddenly hearing a voice in my head that seemed more real than the other voices in my head.”

He laughed, “I see.”

“Care to explain why this is happening?”

“As I said, it’s a long story. Perhaps one better told face to face.”

I frowned at my reflection, “Or maybe you’re trying to give yourself time to think of how to explain it?”

Fane gave another laugh, “It’s like you can read my mind.”

“Imagine that. Fine. I’ll give you time. My mom, my friends, and I are going over to the Henry’s to bring you a home cooked Texan meal tomorrow for lunch.”

“How did you know who I was?”

I rolled my eyes, “I heard your voice in my head the second you looked me in the eye. Not hard to figure out, dude.”

“Ah, fair point. I will see you tomorrow… or later today, rather. Please try to sleep, my Luna.”

“You gotta stop calling me that. My name’s Jillian.”

“It is a title with great meaning,” he said, “I will explain when I am able. Sleep well, Jillian.”

I felt him withdraw from my mind, leaving me with a chill. After taking a few minutes to steady myself, I turned out the light and went back to bed.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Fane,” my mother greeted the boy, “We brought you a proper Texas lunch.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Day. I greatly appreciate it.”

“It’s just Lily,” my mom corrected, “And this is my daughter Jillian and her friends, Sally and Jen.”

“A pleasure,” Fane said, looking at Sally and Jen before his eyes fell on me. I could’ve sworn the blue of his eyes glowed slightly as he looked at me for a long moment.

“Why don’t y’all come in and join us for lunch?” Mrs. Henry suggested, “Lily, help me get the table ready?”

“Of course,” Lily agreed before looking to me and my friends sternly, “Behave yourselves, hmm?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jen gave a salute.

Lily rolled her eyes and then moved to the kitchen with Mrs. Henry.

“So Fane… Where’re you from?” Jen asked.

“Romania,” he replied.

“Oh wow,” Sally breathed, “Your head’s probably spinning from the temperature change, huh?”

“It will take getting used to,” he admitted. “I hadn’t realize the heat would be quite so oppressive.”

“That’s Texas for you,” Jen shrugged, “Extremely oppressive.”

“I am certain I will find it has its charms as well,” Fane said, his gaze shifting to me as he spoke.

Jen snickered, “For sure. Jillian’s single, by the way.”

“Jen,” I hissed, elbowing her in the ribs.

“What?” she asked, holding her hands up innocently, “You are. And he was looking at you like you were a tasty meal.”

My face warmed and I looked at Fane nervously. He didn’t seem at all bothered. His blue eyes were intense as he stared at me, a small smile on his lips.

“Come eat, kids!” my mom called from the dining room.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably and moved to the Henry’s dining room, Fane following close behind. When we reached the table, before I could take a chair, Fane had pulled a chair back and was looking at me expectantly.

“What a gentlemen,” Jen commented as she slid into her own seat.

“Thanks,” I muttered as I sat.

“You are quite welcome,” Fane said aloud as he moved to take the chair beside me, adding silently through our mental connection, “My Luna.”

I stiffened at the sudden sensation of him in my head.

Mr. and Mrs. Henry, my mom, and Sally joined us at the table. My mom prepared plates for us all, distrubuting them.

“I hope you’re not a vegetarian, Fane,” my mom commented as she set a heaping plate in front of him.

“Not at all Mrs… Lily,” he corrected himself quickly, “I actually have quite the fondness for meat.”

He smiled to himself, as if enjoying his own private joke. My lips compressed into a tight line. Of course he was… Suddenly he turned to face me, frowning.

“What are you thinking, my Luna?” he asked silently.

I glared at him, “Do we have to do that here?”

His brow hardened for a second before his expression eased and I felt him leaving my head.

“Already making eyes at the new guy,” Jen sighed, shaking her head in exasperation.

I looked down at my plate, my face heating up.

“Is there anyone waiting for you back home, Fane?” my mom asked, her voice a little tense.

“No,” Fane said, looking away from me, “I haven’t spent much time dating.”

“Ah,” she responded before resuming eating.

I poked at my food with the fork a little, but couldn’t bring myself to take a bite. My stomach was in knots.

“So why’d you pick Argyle, Texas?” Jen questioned around a mouthful of food.

“Jen, swallow before you talk,” Sally reminded her.

In retaliation to the rebuke, Jen opened her mouth wide in Sally’s face, showing the half-chewed chicken.

“Gross,” Sally held her hand up between them, “You’re disgusting.”

“I don’t know exactly why I picked this location,” Fane said, ignoring the exchange politely, “When I saw it on the list, I felt drawn to it. I have learned in my life not to question such instincts. They tend to lead me to where I belong.”

His eyes fell on me briefly before he took a bite of food.

“Just fate, I suppose,” Sally offered, “Maybe you’ll find your soulmate here.”

I had been taking a sip of water and choked a little on it at her words. If she only knew how right she probably was…

Lunch continued around me. I barely heard any of it. I gathered that Fane was in the market for a motorcycle, which didn’t surprise me. I was pretty sure I heard Jen make more embarrassing comments, but I was too distracted to process them. And then lunch was over.

“Jillian, would you be kind enough to show me around the neighborhood a little?” Fane asked me.

I sucked in a deep breath and nodded, “Sure.”

“I don’t know that that’s a good idea,” Lily said hesitantly.

I rolled my eyes. She had always been weird about me and guys. It hadn’t really bothered me too much, as I wasn’t interested in dating. But I needed to talk to Fane, face to face, openly and honestly.

“Please, Mom? I’ll just show him to the park a few blocks away,” I assured her, “We’ll be in earshot of people in case I need to scream for help.”

“Fane’s a good boy,” Mrs. Henry said, “I’m sure your daughter will be fine.”

My mom still had worry in her eyes, but she was outnumbered so she said, “Okay. Just be back home soon. I need your help with the laundry.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed. “Come on, Fane.”

Without looking to see if he was following me, I made a beeline to the door. I didn’t stop until I was at the edge of the Henry’s property, and even then only to feel the cool breeze on my skin as I tried to calm myself.

“Are you alright?” Fane asked from behind me.

“The park’s this way,” I said, “We shouldn’t be overheard.”

He joined my side and kept pace with me as I walked. I didn’t speak until we had passed three houses.

“So… mind reading,” I commented nonchalantly.

“Not quite,” he hedged, “You and I have a connection. It always us to share thoughts and emotions.”

“So you can’t do it with just anyone?”

“No, I can’t… and you don’t seem surprised by that. Do you know what this is?”

“Do you?”

“Of course.”

“Then enlighten me. Why do we have this connection?”

“Jillian,” I felt him grip my hand and turn me to face him. His touch sent a spark through me that made me gasp. It must have had a similar effect on him because he let out a small sound, “Oh, my Luna…”

I pulled my hand from his and crossed my arms protectively over my chest.

“Don’t call me that,” I ordered him.

“It is what you are to me,” he said earnestly, “My Luna, my mate…”

My heart gave a funny jump at the word mate.

“What are you, a werewolf?” I asked, trying to sound flippant.

“Yes,” he said simply, “You do know of werewolves, then?”

“No, I don’t. You’re… really a werewolf?”

“I am. But Jillian… I don’t understand… Do you or do you not know of werewolves?”

“I don’t technically,” I hedged, “I… I’ve had dreams of them.”

His eyes brightened a little, “You dreamt of me?”

“Maybe. It’s… it’s complicated. I just…” I swallowed hard as I considered my words carefully, “I always thought maybe… I’d have a werewolf mate.”

Fane smiled, “And you do, my Luna.”

“Really? You’re sure?”

“Of course. We have a connection. We wouldn’t be able to share thoughts if we weren’t mates.”

I let out a long breath, “Okay then. So what now?”

“At some point, we will need to do the Blood Rites. It will solidify our bond, connecting us thoroughly for the rest of our lives.”

“Blood?”

“We have to exchange blood.”

“We just met thirty minutes ago, so is that something that can wait until we know each other better?” I asked.

“For a time, yes. We need to go to my pack to complete the rituals first regardless, so it will take time to prepare everything.”

“Your pack? In Romania?”

“Of course.”

“You’re expecting me to pack up my life and move to another country?” I questioned, eyebrow raised.

“I… Well… Yes,” he admitted, “I’m sorry, Jillian. I’m not trying to rush things, it’s just that in my culture once a mate is found, there is little reason to wait.”

“Well in my culture, you go on a few dates before asking someone to move halfway around the world with you,” I pointed out, “And I don’t even fully understand any of this yet. What exactly am I signing up for here?”

He reached and took my hand, pressing my palm against his chest, “You are my life, my mate, my Luna. You will have my love and protection for as long as we both shall live.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I said, pulling my hand free and stepping back, “Do… do I need to become a werewolf or…?”

“You should already be one, in fact,” Fane said, “Werewolves can’t have human mates. You likely have werewolf somewhere in your lineage.”

I sighed, “Right. And this Luna thing… What does it mean?”

“It means you are the mate to the Alpha,” Fane said, puffing out his chest proudly, “You see, I’m the son of the Alpha of the Romanian pack, one of the largest werewolf packs in the world. When my father steps down, I will be the Alpha and you will be my Alpha Female, known as the Luna.”

“Alpha Female,” I muttered, “Wonderful…”

“You will be loved and respected by hundreds of werewolves,” he said, sensing my trepidation. “It is a high honor.”

“Sorry, I’m just… This is a lot.”

“Of course. It will be a while before you become the pack’s true Luna, of course. My father still has many years of leadership in him. But until then, you are my Luna. My moon and stars…”

“Okay, let’s slow this down a bit,” I said, “I… I can’t just go to Romania. I have school and my mom…”

“Your mother can of course come as well. And believe it or not, we have schools in Romania.”

“Gasp, I’m shocked,” I rolled my eyes, “But I’m really close to graduating here. I’ve been taking extra classes so I can finish early and I know those things don’t always transfer between schools, much less countries.”

“You don’t have to worry about any accreditation, though,” Fane frowned, “You won’t need it to get a job. You will be the pack’s Luna.”

I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache coming on, “Okay, fine. But my mom has her bookstore and I have my friends. They certainly can’t pack up and move with me.”

“No, but we can pay for them to fly out regularly to visit. I wouldn’t try to isolate you from your friends, Jillian.”

“That’s what’s gonna happen, though,” I pointed out.

He sighed heavily, “It may. I am sorry, my Luna. I realize that this will greatly change your life.”

“This is fucking nuts,” I muttered, turning away from him.

“I didn’t realize you used such language.”

“I curse like a fucking sailor, dude,” I told him, “You better get used to it.”

“It isn’t an issue. Perhaps I can teach you some colorful Romanian curses.”

“Lovely… Look, I…” I sucked in a deep breath, “This mind reading… how does it work exactly?”

“I can hear you when you reach out to me and I can feel your emotions, especially when they’re particularly strong. In turn, you can do the same for me.”

“But you can’t just hear my stray thoughts?”

“Not yet. For now, it must be purposeful. However, once we complete our bond, we will be fully connected and hear and feel everything the other person experiences.”

I shivered. There was that, at least. I could still keep some things to myself… for now.

“But we won’t complete this bond until we’re in Romania, with your pack?” I asked.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “My father will preform the bonding ceremony and then you and I will do the Blood Rites.”

“Those are… two different things?”

“The ceremony is like a wedding. It is the Rites that solidify our bond.”

“We have to get married?”

He frowned deeply, “Our bond is deeper than anything a human marriage could represent. You and I are linked for life, my Luna.”

“Right… okay, well this is a lot to process. Do… How long before we have to leave?”

“My father is already making arrangements,” he said, “We can leave for Romania as soon as you’re ready.”

“Fuck… Okay. I’ll… I need to talk to my mom and my friends. Can… can I tell them?”

“Your mother, yes. Your friends… Do you feel they can keep the existance of werewolves a secret?”

“Believe it or not, Jen can shut her big mouth sometimes. They won’t tell anyone. And really… I need their help to break it to my mom.”

“Alright, my Luna. You may tell them. How long until you’re ready to leave?”

“I don’t know, Fane!” I burst out, “I… I don’t know! This is a really big fucking deal and I’m not sure how long this’ll take. I’m not sure when I’m gonna be ready mentally for any of this.”

“I… understand,” he said tensely, “I’m sorry, Jillian. Take the time you need.”

“Okay, girl, what’s the deal?” Jen demanded as I shut my bedroom door.

“Fane’s a werewolf,” I started.

“Right and I’m the queen of England,” Jen returned.

I crossed my arms, giving her an intense look.

“Oh, fuck. For real?” Jen asked, recognizing my serious expression.

“Jill… come on,” Sally prompted, “What’s going on?”

“Fane and I can read each other’s mind’s and apparently it’s a freaky werewolf mate thing and now he wants me to pack up and move to Romania with him.”

“Whoa, slow down girlfriend,” Jen held up her hands, “One thing at a time.”

“Okay,” I nodded, “Last night, when we were looking at him through the window… he looked up at me and I suddenly heard his voice in my head.”

“That’s why you looked like you saw a ghost,” Sally whispered.

“Yep. It was just two words. ‘My Luna.’ Then after y’all were asleep, I… reached out mentally to see if I could talk to him and… and I could. He promised to explain when we saw each other today.”

“That’s why you agreed to go on a walk with him,” Jen nodded her understanding, “You never go anywhere with guys.”

“Yeah, well I learned a fuck ton on that walk. He’s a werewolf and not just any werewolf but the son of the Alpha of the Romanian werewolf pack, which according to him is one of the biggest packs on the planet.”

“So… like royalty?” Jen asked, a smile growing on her face, “Like a prince?”

Sally slapped Jen’s leg, “Focus, babe. We have bigger fish to fry here.”

“Right, but come on… That’s kinda hot.”

“What’s not hot is that he wants me to move to Romania as soon as possible.”

“I mean, that’s kinda hot too,” Jen pointed out, “Love at first sight. Running away together when you barely know each other… Getting rawed by a werewolf prince in a foreign country. Someone should write that romance novel.”

“Rawed?” I wrinkled my nose at her, “Really?”

She shrugged, “You gotta get to work making those royal puppies, don’t you?”

“Gross, Jen,” Sally said before turning to me, “Why move so fast? Is that a werewolf thing?”

“Yeah. We’re mates, apparently. We’re already bonded and meant to spend the rest of our lives together, so why wait? That’s his logic, at least.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“Well… it’s just… It’s fast,” I admitted, “But I mean… Y’all know I’m into werewolves.”

“Oh boy do we,” Jen rolled her eyes.

“He says I have werewolf in me… in my lineage,” I added quickly when Jen opened her mouth.

“Not in your pussy?” Jen quipped.

“You couldn’t resist, could you?” Sally asked, exasperated.

“Nope. Not possible.”

“As I was saying,” I began pointedly, “I wonder if maybe… this was meant to be. Maybe the reason I’m drawn to werewolf stuff is because I was meant to be with one.”

“Could be,” Sally agreed, “But it’s still fast.”

“No argument here. I’d like to take time and really process all this, but he seems in a hurry.”

“Of course. He wants to raw you,” Jen shrugged.

“Can we stop with the rawing, Jen?” I requested with forced patience.

“Would you rather talk about knotting? Did you ask about his werewolf form?”

My cheeks warmed, “I didn’t. And he didn’t offer any info there. I was more worried about the immediate concerns, like moving to Romania.”

“Your mom’s gonna flip,” Sally remarked worriedly.

“I know. That’s why I need y’all’s help. How the fuck do I tell her about this in a way that doesn’t result in me getting grounded for the rest of eternity?”

“No clue. She hates when you show any interest in men. She’d probably prefer if you were a lesbian,” Jen offered helpfully.

“Doubt it. She just wouldn’t let me hang out with any women either. I’d never be let out of the house.” Especially if she knew I was bisexual, I added silently. But not even my friends knew that.

“We’ll think of something,” Sally assured me, “You’ll just have to tell Fane to be patient.”

“He’ll have to be.”

“Did you talk to your mother, my Luna?” Fane asked as I laid awake in my bed, alone in my room as the girls had to go home for the night.

“Not yet,” I admitted aloud, feeling more comfortable talking out loud instead of in my head, “But my friends… took it well. They’re gonna help me tell her.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Rooms are being prepared at the castle for your mother and friends.”

I sat straight up in bed, “Castle?”

“Had I not mentioned that?”

“No, you hadn’t…”

“My family lives in a castle. We have for several generations.”

“Several generations? So it’s a newer castle?”

“Ah… I neglected to mention werewolf lifespans.”

“Oh boy…”

“We can live quite a long time. My father is nine hundred years old.”

I wheezed as I processed that, “Nine… nine hundred?”

“Nine hundred and thirty two, to be exact.”

“Oh well let’s for sure be exact,” I grumbled, “And… how old are you?”

“Seventeen and three months, my Luna. How old are you?”

I frowned, feeling a rush of sadness as I answered, “I just turned seventeen a few weeks ago.”

“Happy belated birthday,” he replied and I felt concern in his thoughts, “Why are you sad?”

“Long story. So you’re not hundreds of years old?”

“Not yet.”

“You realize I’m only good for maybe a hundred, right? Sounds like you’re gonna outlive me.”

“When our bond is complete, our lifespans will match each other. And do not forget, you have wolf blood in your veins.”

“Match each other?”

“When one of us dies, we both die.”

My breath left me in a whoosh, “Oh.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention it earlier.”

“No, it’s fine. There were a lot of other things to process. So… if you die, I die?”

“And if you die, I will die as well,” he confirmed, “Neither of us should pass from old age for many centuries, but we still can be killed. I will fight to prevent that outcome.”

“That’s reassuring,” I whispered, “Okay, so… Why are you so young? How many kids have your parents had in their nine hundred years?”

“My mother is only two hundred,” Fane offered, “My father didn’t find his mate until he was much older than I. And as for other children… Reproduction is not easy for our kind, Jillian. My mother struggled to become pregnant and the few times she did, the child was lost in the womb or died shortly after birth. I’m their only living offspring.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said sympathetically, “That’s… that’s gotta be hard on them both.”

“It has been. They were overjoyed when I survived.”

“I’d imagine so…”

“Jillian, you need to understand that our situation is quite unusual. It often takes centuries for werewolves to find their mates. For me to find mind before I’m even twenty… It’s nothing short of a miracle.”

I felt his rush of emotions. Relief, happiness, contentment. The power of them made my eyes fill with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he said, even in his thoughts sounding a little choked up, “It just… it truly is a miracle. I know I am rushing you, but it is only out of fear of losing you. I feel like I’m going to wake up and this will all have been a dream.”

“I know how you feel,” I whispered. “It doesn’t feel real… But I still have to talk to my mom. And I still have to process all this.”

“Of course. You should rest. We will talk more in the morning.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Fane.”

“Goodnight, my Luna.”

I felt him leaving my head and shivered.

I wasn’t able to fall asleep easily. My head still spun with worries.

What was I waiting for, I wondered. If he really was my mate… and he seemed convinced… Why else would we hear each other’s thoughts? But he also was so young… I few months older than me technically, sure, but… so young

And was I even attracted to him? Not really, I had to admit to myself, but I also knew that could come later. I wasn’t always attracted to people right away. I had to get to know them.

I needed to take time with him and be sure we really were mates. Even if I wasn’t attracted to him, it would be good to be with my mate. He would take care of me and we could make each other happy.

But I had to be sure.

“No Sally and Jen today?” my mom asked as I set a plate of pancakes in front of her.

“Jen has yardwork to do and Sally’s tutoring,” I said as I sat down with my own plate.

“Why’re you up so early?”

“Had trouble sleeping.”

“Hmm,” she frowned, poking at her pancake with her fork.

“Not hungry?”

“Just worried about you,” she admitted, “Did that boy say something yesterday? You seemed distracted after your walk.”

“Yeah, he… he asked me on a date,” I told her. “Wants to get to know me better.”

“I see,” she said before taking a bite of a pancake and chewing slowly.

“I told him I’d have to talk to you first. I know how you feel about boys.”

“Thank you,” she said, “I appreciate that. Are… you interested in him?”

“I’d like to get to know him. A bit early to say anything beyond that.”

“Good,” she nodded, “Very good. You can spend time with him here or at the Henry’s, with an adult home.”

“Okay,” I agreed, fighting back a weary sigh, “So… you’re okay with us hanging out?”

“You’re seventeen now, Jillian. If I told you not to, would it stop you?”

“It might.”

She gave a sad smile, “I just want to make sure you take things slow. I know how teenage boys can be. Maybe you can show him some of your PlayStation games here today? I’ll be in my office doing paperwork so I’ll be out of your way.”

“Oh. Okay,” I nodded, surprised but pleased, “Thanks, Mom.”

“A date?” Fane asked, “You want to date?”

“It’s actually not a date,” I told him mentally as I cleaned up the living room. “As far as my mom knows right now, we’re just getting to know each other.”

“So you still haven’t told her.”

I sighed heavily, “No, Fane. I haven’t told her. And I can’t yet. I need to give her some time to get used to the idea of me even being in the same room with a boy. I can’t tell her I’m destined to marry one and move to a foreign country.”

“Fine,” he said reluctantly, “Where are we going for this date?”

“Right here,” I said, “My living room. We’re gonna play video games together, if you’re up for it.”

“Video games?” he asked doubtfully, “Will we have the house to ourselves?”

“No, my mom’ll be down the hall. She said she’d give us space, though.”

I felt his discomfort at the idea.

“Like I said, she needs to get used to you first.”

“Alright. When should I come over?”

I looked over the room critically and said, “Now, if you’re free.”

He didn’t answer. He withdrew from my head abruptly.

“Okay then,” I muttered and then went to Mom’s office, “Hey, Fane’s headed over. Do you wanna talk to him first?”

“No, that’s okay,” she said, though she didn’t look happy, “I’ve got to focus on these bills. Just stay in the living room.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed and then I heard the doorbell.

I left the office and opened the front door. Fane stood there, his black hair stylishly mussed, in a short sleeved shirt, a loose leather vest, and jeans that looked too tight to be legal. I also saw that he had a tattoo on his neck and his arm. It seemed to be a swirling pattern.

“Come in,” I invited, gesturing him inside.

“Thank you,” he inclined his head, “Where’s your mom?”

“In her office,” I said, pointing down the hall as I led the way to the living room, “She won’t be able to hear us as long as we’re not too loud.”

“Good to know.”

“And here’s our couch,” I said awkwardly, “I thought maybe we could play some games on my PlayStation.”

Fane sat, leaning back and draping his arm over the back of the couch, smiling up at me, “We could. What games do you have?”

I cleared my throat and then sat beside him, perched forward on the edge of the couch, away from his spread arm, “Well, I have a few games that can have split screens. Some racing games, puzzle games… What types do you like?”

“Whatever you like,” he murmured and I felt his fingers trail down my spine.

I shivered at the contact.

“Do you like that, my Luna?” Fane asked through our mental connection.

“Yes,” I said aloud, a little breathless.

He stroked my back for a few moments before abruptly pulling his hand away.

“Hey, kids,” my mom greeted as she came out of the hall, “Find a game to play?”

“N-not yet,” I stuttered out.

“You should show him that new one you made me play,” she said, “Maybe he can manage to beat you at it.”

“I shall certainly try,” Fane remarked with a smile.

“Have fun,” she said before turning and going back to her office.

I cleared my throat and reached for the controller, turning on the Playstation.

“You have video games in Romania, right?” I asked in a high voice as I loaded up the newer game my mom mentioned.

“Of course. I actually have the newer playstation.”

“Of course,” I rolled my eyes. “Well, we can’t afford the newest and this one does just fine.”

“I’m sure,” he said and I felt his hand at my back again.

A small moan escaped my lips.

“You do like that,” he sounded pleased with himself.

“We… we should focus on the game,” I told him.

“Turn the game’s music up,” he told me, “And your mother won’t hear us, but I will hear when she comes to check.”

I turned to look at him reproachfully, “Fane…”

My words were cut off by his lips. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck as he kissed me.

He pulled back, looking pleased but questioning. Without thinking, I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his again.

It felt amazing. His hands ran over my body, his warm breath and spicy taste on my tongue… Before I knew it, he had me pinned under him on the couch, his knee pressed between my legs as he nibbled at my neck.

To soon, he moved off me and helped me straighten up. Just in time for my mom to pop her head in.

“Sorry, just getting a drink,” she said, moving to the kitchen. I was glad she didn’t have a view of the TV from there because she would see we were still on the menu.

“No problem, Mrs. Day,” Fane told her, “Would you like to join us?”

I fought to keep my expression neutral as fear gripped me.

“Oh, that’s sweet, but no,” she said, holding a cold bottle of soda in her hand, “I have too much work to do. And remember, I told you to call me Lily. I’m not a Mrs. I’m not married.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know,” Fane offered.

“It’s okay. Now y’all have fun. I won’t bother you again,” she promised.

She did in fact bother us again. About every fifteen minutes, Fane was climbing off me and grabbing the controller when she came out. Thankfully, I’d decided getting actually into the game, even playing a round so that we had a game over screen ready, would be a better cover. It worked when she came and peeked at the screen, asking us how it was going.

“Is she like this with all your dates?” Fane asked as we played another round of the game so a different screen would be there the next time she came in.

“Wouldn’t know. You’re the first.”

He gave a wide smile at that, “Good.”

After about two hours, my mom came out and announced she was done with her paperwork and could join us for a round. Reluctantly, the three of us played a few games before Fane said he had a curfew with the Henry’s and had to go.

He bid us goodbye and left.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you were doing,” my mom said as I turned off the PlayStation.

“W-what?” I questioned.

“I heard the same music play on a loop for quite a while, Jillian,” she informed me. “You’re not as slick as you’d like to think.”

My face warmed, “I’m sorry.”

She sighed heavily, “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t go too far.”

“We just kissed,” I said in a small voice.

“Good. Jillian, I promise I’m not trying to control your life. You know I’ve always valued your independence. It’s just with boys and sex…”

I held up my hands, “Hey, no one said anything about sex.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“We just kissed, I promise. It wasn’t gonna go further with or without you checking in.”

“Good. You’re so young, Jillian. You have plenty of time to grow up in that way.”

“I know. It won’t go any farther, Mom. I… I don’t want it to yet.”

“That’s reassuring, thank you. But I know what boys are like. So my earlier rules still stand: you can spend time with him here or at the Henry’s as long as an adult is present. I’m going to talk to Sara about it to make sure she understands.”

“Great,” I muttered, embarrassed.

“It’s for your safety, Jillian.”

“I know, but it’s still… weird.”

“Was there tongue?” Jen asked over the phone.

“A bit,” I mumbled.

“Fuck yeah,” she breathed, “Any hands under clothes?”

“Not really. My shirt road up a bit, but he didn’t like… grope me.”

“Aw,” she groaned.

“Did you like it?” Sally asked, “Do you like him?”

“It was… fun. It felt good,” I admitted, “I was worried about feeling a lack of attraction to him, but… I mean, hard to deny I liked him touching me.”

“You were worried about not being attracted to the hottest guy on earth?” Jen asked in disbelief. “No fucking way.”

I shrugged, though they couldn’t see, “You know I don’t work that way. I have to know someone to really be attracted to them.”

“You’re attracted to movie characters and you don’t know them,” Sally pointed out.

“I don’t have to know them in real life, I just have to know their personalities and what drives them. I’m still working on that part with Fane.”

“But he’s so fucking hot,” Jen breathed, “Why is this even a question?”

“It’s less of one now. More importantly, though, I’m getting my mom used to him. She knows we spent all day making out and she didn’t ban him from the house, so I think that’s going well.”

“One small step for man, one giant leap towards getting rawed by a werewolf prince.”

“Again with the rawed…” Sally sighed.

“Okay, I’m going to bed,” I told them both, “Love y’all.”

“Love you!” they said in chorus before I hung up.

I moved to the bathroom, undressing as I went, and jumped in the shower. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the warm stream of water, relaxing my sore muscles. Who knew making out was so much work?

After much too long in the shower, I got out and wrapped a towel around myself. And froze. In the mirror, I caught a glimpse of my neck. My blood ran cold as I swiped the condensation from the mirror. On my neck was a black swirl pattern. I turned and saw it went down my back, all the way to my thigh. The pattern looked a lot like Fane’s tattoo.

“Luna?” I heard Fane ask in my head, “Is something wrong.”

I didn’t answer. Instead I just sent him an image of what I was seeing.

“Ah, the markings,” he breathed. I felt a rush of desire and excitement from him.

“You didn’t mention markings,” I whispered.

“I apologize. It slipped my mind. They mark you as mine, Jillian. They match my markings.”

In my mind, I saw an image he sent me. He too was shirtless and the tattoos that I thought were two separate ones on his neck and arm were actually a single piece. It stretched from under his ear, to around his shoulder, and wrapped around his upper arm.

“It is further confirmation that you are my Luna,” he said.

“Oh,” I squeaked.

That was… good, I thought.

“Are you alright?” Fane asked.

“Yeah… I think so. Uh…” I wrapped the towel around me again, “Any other big things I should be aware of?”

“Well… you need to not let anyone see your markings,” he stated.

“I definitely can’t let my mom see it. She’ll freak the fuck out.”

“That isn’t what I mean. It… The markings are for my eyes only, Jillian. Your mother and female friends may see them if needed, but no males.”

I frowned. Of course. Possessive male werewolf.

“Okay,” I agreed, “Anything else?”

“No,” he said, lowering his voice to a sultry tone, “But I want you to imagine me kissing every inch of your markings as you fall asleep tonight.”

I gulped, feeling arousal build in my belly.

“Goodnight, my Luna. Sleep well.”

And then he was gone.

“Fucking hell,” I panted. I turned around in the mirror, looking at the markings.

They covered a huge portion of my right side. I had no idea how I was going to cover the part on my neck, especially in summer when I had no excuse to wear a scarf. But at least it wasn’t on my arm like Fane’s.

I frowned as I looked at myself. I’d always wanted to get a tattoo but I’d never wanted to commit to something. I was always changing my mind about everything so I knew I’d never be able to pick a tattoo that I’d be happy with forever. But there I was, with markings I assumed were permanent.

I tried to like them. They had delicate swirls that were certainly pretty. But… it wasn’t what I would’ve chosen to decorate my skin for the rest of my life.

The rest of my life…

Once I did the Blood Rites with Fane, that would be much longer than I had been expecting.

I sighed and left the bathroom to get ready for bed.

I wore a collared shirt when I left my bedroom. I hoped my mom wouldn’t see the little swirls of black peaking out. If she did, I was dead.

“Sally and Jen are coming today,” I told her as she sipped her coffee.

“You’re not hanging out with Fane?” she asked.

“He’s going shopping for a motorcycle today with Mr. Henry.”

“Oh. Huh…”

“I won’t ride on it,” I promised her. “Don’t worry, I’m not that stupid.”

“Thank you,” she said emphatically. “In that case, I’m heading to the store. There’s a little more work to do before we open officially.”

“’Kay,” I agreed, sitting down at the table with a bowl of cereal, “Drive safe.”

“Will do,” she said, bending down to kiss my cheek. As she pulled back, she paused.

I felt a chill of fear run through me.

“Is… that a tattoo?” she asked, her voice carefully controlled.

“Don’t freak out,” I said quickly, “It’s from a marker. I was just messing around with it last night and…”

“Okay,” she said, her breathing coming quickly. She forced a smile on her face, “It’s fine, Jillian. Just… you don’t have to hide these things from me, you know? I won’t get angry.”

“Sorry,” I told her.

“Does… does it match Fane’s?” she asked.

“A bit, maybe,” I admitted, “I thought his looked cool.”

“Okay,” she said again, “Well… I’ll be home sometime after lunch. Will you and the girls be okay?”

“Yeah mom… are you okay?”

“I’m fine, baby. Just… Have fun.”

Without another word, she hurried to the garage.

“She’s gonna kill you,” Jen said, peering closely at my markings.

“I told her it was just markers. I don’t know that she believed me.”

“How could she? That’s some high quality work right there.”

“And you would know because you’ve seen so many tattoos,” Sally remarked.

“I watch Youtube. I know stuff.”

“What am I gonna do?” I asked, “If she’s not suspicious yet, she will be when she notices it doesn't fade.”

“You’re gonna have to tell her,” Sally said simply, “Look, no amount of easing her into this wolf thing is gonna help.”

“Yeah, rip it off like a bandaid,” Jen agreed, “Just tell her that her only daughter, her beloved baby girl, is moving to Romania to get rawed by a werewolf.”

“You’re really obsessed with the word rawed this week, huh?” I asked.

“It’s a good fucking word!”

“Maybe put it a little more delicately than that,” Sally said, “But you need to tell her. Sooner rather than later. It’ll just get worse from here.”

“Hey, mom, when’d you get home?” I called as I made my way down the stairs after hearing voices in the house.

I froze when I saw my mom was standing in the foyer with Fane. Neither person looked happy.

“We need to talk,” my mom said, her voice severe.

“There is nothing to talk about,” Fane stated, “Jillian is my mate.”

“Whoa, what?” I demanded loudly. Loud enough to get the other girls’ attention apparently because the suddenly were behind me.

“Whoa what what?” Jen asked.

“Sally, Jen, you should go home,” my mom said.

“They already know,” Fane said, “My mate told them.”

My mom sucked in a deep breath, squeezing the bridge of her nose.

“Mom?” I asked tentatively.

“Your mother already knows of werewolves, my Luna,” Fane said, “She recognized our markings.”

“But… mom?”

“Honey, come sit,” she said, looking older than I’d ever seen her.

Numbly I nodded and we all made our way to the living room. Before I could sit, Fane pulled me to him and held me as we sat on the couch. My mom shot him a glare.

“Your father was a werewolf,” she told me.

I let out a long breath. Of course he was.

“He left before I knew I was pregnant with you,” she explained. “He didn’t know… and…”

“Humans can’t be the mates of werewolves,” Fane stated, “He left because he found his mate.”

“He did,” my mom confirmed tersely, “Jillian… You can’t be Fane’s mate.”

“Why not?” I asked, “He said…”

“I know what he said and I see the markings, but it’s not possible. You are already claimed by another werewolf.”

My blood ran cold, “What the fuck?”

“The Alpha of a nearby pack,” she said, “He laid claim to you when you were only a few years old.”

“Gross,” Jen wrinkled her nose, “That’s disgusting.”

“He planned to tell you after you graduated college,” my mom continued, ignoring Jen, “He’s stayed away so you could have a normal life.”

Fane’s arms tightened around me, his body tense.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, Jillian, but I couldn’t,” my mom said, tears building in her eyes, “If I had… I’m so sorry. But Fane isn’t your mate. He is.”

“Hold your horses,” I said, “You mean I belong to some guy I’ve never met?”

“You did meet him, when you were young. Once.”

“And that makes it better?”

“No, it doesn’t,” she admitted, “But werewolves aren’t like us… like humans,” she corrected, “They know when someone’s their mate, no matter the age.”

“This man’s claim isn’t valid,” Fane said firmly, “My marks on on Jillian’s skin. We have a mental connection. There’s no doubt that we’re mates.”

“I don’t know enough about it to know how or why,” my mom said helplessly, “But the Alpha assured me that he’s her true mate.”

“He can’t be,” Fane’s eyes started to glow blue, a growl coming from his throat, “I’m her mate.”

“Don’t growl at my mother,” I snapped at him, pulling out of his arms, “Just… hold on a second. Mom… What… how…?”

“I’ve contacted him,” my mom said, “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

“And I’ve contacted my family,” Fane said, “My father will be here in two days.”

“What? Why?” I demanded.

“He will negotiate with this… Alpha,” Fane said spitefully, “If it were up to me, we would do the Blood Rites tonight and you would be mine without question. But my father ordered me to wait to avoid war with this other pack.”

“Whoa, hold your fucking horses,” I snapped, “You’d just do the blood rites tonight? I’m not ready, Fane.”

“You’re my mate. We have eternity to get to know each other. There’s no use waiting.”

“I’m not ready,” I repeated.

“You need to become ready quickly,” Fane stated, “Once I have my Alpha’s approval, we are doing the Blood Rites.”

“Fuck you,” I hissed, “I need time.”

“Time is something we no longer have, my Luna,” Fane said, rising to his feet and looking down at me, “The longer we wait, the more likely something like this will happen again. Once we complete our bond, no one can question us. If you’re unsure about being with me forever, you may as well let this Alpha Lovett claim you because someone will come and take you whether you want it or not.”

My eyes widened.

“Take me?” I whispered.

“The Blood Rites can be done with or without your consent,” Fane said, “And unmated females are a rarity. That’s probably why this Alpha claimed you so young. You and I are true mates, Jillian. But that doesn’t stop others from doing the Blood Rites and forming a perverted connection to you that can only end with your death.”

I gulped, “Oh.”

“That’s fucked up,” Jen stated.

“So you want to risk this Alpha forcing you to be his mate?” Fane asked.

“No,” I said, deflated.

“Good. Then the instant my father gives us permission, we’ll do the Blood Rites. It’s for your protection, my Luna.”

I nodded, hanging my head, “Okay.”

He put a finger under my chin and tilted my face up.

“I’m sorry, my Luna,” he murmured, “This isn’t how I wanted this to go.”

He bent down and pressed a kiss to my lips.

“The Alpha won’t be happy about that,” my mom told him.

Fane growled, “I don’t care what he thinks. Jillian’s my mate.”

“Is that why you’ve been so protective?” I demanded, looking around Fane to my mother, “Because you’d already promised me to someone else?”

“Yes,” she admitted, “I wanted to make sure… this didn’t happen.” she gestured between me and Fane. “But… You’re almost an adult. I didn’t want you to grow up resenting me for controlling your life. And I hoped Fane was just a sexy exchange student you’d have a bit of fun with and then he’d be gone. I didn’t know he was a werewolf.”

“All my life… You’ve been keeping this from me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, “I… I really thought it was best for you. I hope you won’t hold that against me, Jillian.”

I didn’t know what to say. I felt like I’d been lied to by the person I trusted the most.

“Fane, you should go,” my mom said after a long silence, “The Alpha doesn’t want you here when he comes tomorrow morning.”

Fane let out a low, unhappy growl, but nodded, “My Alpha has ordered me away as well. He doesn’t want me provoking him. I don’t want to leave Jillian unprotected, though.”

“He won’t hurt her,” Mom said firmly.

“And what if he tries to complete the Rites?” Fane demanded.

“He promised me he won’t do that. Not until he talks to you and your Alpha. Jillian’s safe. I wouldn’t let him come if I didn’t think so.”

“Fine,” he let out another growl before facing me, “My life, my life, my Luna… I will speak to you more later.”

He kissed me, far more passionately than I would’ve liked in front of my mother, before pulling away and leaving out the door, slamming it behind him.

“Anyone else hot?” Jen asked, fanning herself.

Sally slapped her arm, “Really? That’s all you have to say?”

“Jillian…” my mom said softly. “I’m sorry I made you think you couldn’t come to me with this… I never meant to do that to you.”

“No, you just pawned me off on some werewolf that has to be at least twice my age.”

“He’s a very kind man,” she said, “He’s been helping us with the house payments. It’s thanks to him that I could afford to start the book store. He’s been taking care of us, baby.”

“So you traded me for money? That makes me feel better.”

Her shoulders fell and I saw the hurt in her eyes.

I shook my head, “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t understand why you’d do this.”

“I know. When you meet him tomorrow, I hope you’ll see what I saw. He’ll be good to you, Jillian.”

“My Luna,” Fane’s voice sounded in my head, “Please wake up.”

I blinked my eyes open and said aloud, “Fane?”

“He’s not here, babe,” Jen said.

“Alpha Lovett is arriving soon,” Fane told me mentally, “I wanted to speak to you first.”

“Hey, is he talking to you?” Jen asked, kneeling down beside me excitedly.

“Yeah,” I grumbled as I sat up, “He says the Alpha’s coming soon.”

“Thirty minutes,” Sally confirmed, “We wanted to let you sleep as long as possible. You took forever to fall asleep last night.”

“Can’t imagine why,” I said, rubbing my eyes as I tried to wake up, “Fane, what’d you wanna talk about?”

“I wanted to remind you to keep your markings covered. He may demand to see them, but don’t let him. If he wants proof of our bond, we can use our mental connection as evidence.”

“Okay,” I agreed, getting unsteadily to my feet, “Anything else? I need to shower to wake up…”

“Just… be careful. Don’t provoke him. Don’t let him touch you. And if he frightens you at all, tell me and I will be there in an instant to protect you.”

“Got it. Can I shower now? I feel gross.”

“Yes, my love,” he said, though I felt his unhappiness.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like that you won’t have my scent on you. Though it is probably for the best. He may get angry if he smells me.”

“Noted. Shower now?”

“Shower now.”

I felt him retreat, though reluctantly, from my head.

“That was weird,” Jen remarked.

I flushed, realizing I’d spoken the whole thing out loud.

I hurried to the shower, realizing I was short on time. When I got out, I headed for my closet but Jen and Sally stopped me.

“We’ve got you covered,” Sally said, holding up a t-shirt that said “Single, Taken, Mentally Dating A Sparkly Vampire” with a check mark in front of the vampire line.

I sighed heavily, “Really?”

“Gotta show the mutt where he stands,” Jen shrugged.

“It doesn’t have a collar,” I pointed out, putting my hand on my neck where the marking was, “Fane doesn’t want him seeing this.”

“Just put your hair down,” Sally advised, “It’s long enough, it’ll cover your neck.”

“Fine,” I agreed, taking the shirt, “I don’t have time to figure out anything else out.”

I dressed quickly, making sure my hair was positioned to hide the marks. I hated having my hair down, but there was nothing for it.

Once I was done, I sucked in a deep breath and headed down the stairs, with my friends behind me. I froze when I heard voices from the living room. My mom and a deep male voice.

“Go on,” Jen hissed, poking my back.

I let out a little unhappy moan and continued forward. As I entered the living room, I saw my mom and a man sitting on the couch, both with tea cups in their hand.

“Jillian,” Mom said, setting down her cup and standing, “This is Alpha Lovett.”

The man remained sitting, but he turned to look at me as I approached.

My breath caught in my chest. He was a large man, with wavy dark hair streaked with gray pulled back into a pony tail and a thick beard. As he met my eyes, a warm smile grew on his face, his eyes twinkling.

“Hello, Jillian,” he said, his voice deep, “I am glad to finally meet you.”

“Well she’s not happy to meet you,” Jen sounded off behind me when I didn’t reply.

“Girls, how about we give them some privacy?” my mom suggested, moving to herd my friends away, “The Alpha needs to talk to Jillian alone.”

“Oh, now Jillian’s allowed to be alone with a boy,” Jen grumbled.

“Just… go,” I told her, “I’m okay.”

“We’re not going far,” Sally said, putting a comforting hand on my arm, “Just shout if you need us.”

“I will. Thanks, Sally.”

She nodded and moved to the kitchen with my mom and Jen.

Once they were out of sight, I sucked in a shaky breath and moved to the recliner in the living room, which faced the couch where the Alpha sat. I perched anxiously on the edge.

“I like your shirt,” he commented, nodding down at the text.

“Th-thanks,” I stuttered out. “Do… do I call you Alpha or…?”

“Vikram,” he offered, “My name is Vikram Lovett.”

“Vikram,” I repeated, the name almost sounding like a sob of relief.

He tilted his head to the side, “Are you alright?”

I swallowed hard and nodded, “Yes. Sorry. I just… I was expecting some asshole.”

“Understandably so,” he said gravely, “I know how strange and discomforting this must be.”

“W-why… why’d you claim me?” I asked.

“Because I know you to be my mate,” he said simply.

“Fane thinks I’m his mate, though… Were you wrong?”

He leaned back in the chair, his brow furrowed thoughtfully, “I know I was not wrong, but this is a strange development. Lily said you have both the mental connection and the markings.”

Unconsciously, my hand moved to my neck as I nodded.

“Very strange indeed,” he said, “Are you drawn to him?”

“How would I know?”

“Do you long for him when you are apart? Is it difficult to be separated from him?”

“There’s some longing,” I mumbled.

A small smile appeared on his lips, “I don’t mean sexual longing.”

My face heated up uncomfortably.

“True mates, when they are together, they feel more than just desire. They feel comfort,” he explained, “There is… a release of tension. A warmth inside that feels like wherever that person is, that is home. Do you feel that with Fane?”

“I… I don’t know,” I admitted, “I mean, I like… being with him.” I hesitated, not wanting to make him angry.

“It is alright. Lily told me that you and Fane became physical. It does not upset me,” Vikram said, his voice gentle, “You can be honest. I will not be angry regardless of what you say.”

“Okay, well… it’s hard to separate the… desire… from anything else,” I told him, “And we’ve only known each other three days.”

“I see. Tell me, Jillian: do you wish he were here right now?”

“No,” I said, a little too easily. I frowned, “Oh…”

“That is not to say such feelings could not develop,” Vikram offered reasonably, “But it is good reason to wait to preform the Blood Rites.”

“I don’t want to do them yet,” I admitted to him, “But Fane says we should do it as soon as possible, for my safety.”

“He is not wrong,” Vikram said gravely, “Being unbonded is dangerous for you. I worried a wolf would attempt to claim you as you reached adulthood. Especially now that you are known to werewolves, there are some desperate males that will flock to you.”

“What’s so special about me?” I asked.

He hesitated, “Werewolves able to carry a child are rare.”

“That’s what Fane said, but… I mean, I can’t be the only one.”

“You are not, but the rest have packs to protect them.”

“So… you’re saying Fane and I should do the Blood Rites?”

Vikram let out a long breath, “I am saying he is right to be concerned for your safety. There are, however, other methods of protecting you. If you are not ready for the Rites, he should not pressure you into them. It is not something to take lightly.”

“He said that our lives would be connected… That when one of us died, we’d both die.”

“Yes,” he said gravely, “And there is no way to break that bond once formed.”

“So… what about you, then? What’s your plan with me?”

“I would ask that you come with me to my pack in Colorado,” he explained, “We could protect you there.”

“You wouldn’t want to do the Blood Rites?”

“You only just turned seventeen, Jillian. I always intended to wait to even meet you until you were twenty two. While certain aspects of my plan now must change, I see no reason why others cannot remain the same. I will not force the Blood Rites upon you.”

“But then I’ll be in danger, right?”

“It is a risk,” he conceded, “But you deserve your freedom of choice.”

“And what about Fane? He and I have a connection.”

“It is a dilemma. I will be consulting with several magic practitioners to discover if there are any external forces behind this.”

“Magic?”

Vikram nodded, “Magic. You have much to learn about the supernatural world, Jillian.”

“Apparently… but what now?”

He leaned forward, his expression deathly serious, “You have a choice. You can go with Fane or you can come with me. I will suggest very strongly to Fane’s Alpha that the Blood Rites should be delayed until you are ready, but I doubt very much that he will listen. If you go to Romania, you likely will have no choice. Your life will be bound to Fane’s.”

“And… what’s my other choice?”

“Fane has challenged me for the right to take you as a mate,” Vikram stated, “If you wished to be with Fane, I would simply forfeit the challenge. However, I will need to fight him for you to have any other options.”

“Fight him? To the death?”

“Typically, yes. I have requested that the rules be amended for this challenge. Fane is young and I have no wish to kill him.”

“You’re not worried he’ll kill you.”

“No,” Vikram said simply, leaning back again with a small smile on his lips, “Not at all.”

“Cocky, huh?” I asked, amused.

“Confident,” he corrected, “And when you see me shifted you will understand why.”

“I don’t doubt your abilities,” I assured him, “But… you can’t kill Fane.”

“As I said, I have no wish to. Unfortunately, I may have little choice. Beyond simply his refusal to release you without a fight, his death may be the only way to break the partial bond.”

I blew out a weary breath.

“Jillian, forgive me if I am overstepping, but it sounds as if you want to come with me,” Vikram ventured carefully.

“I don’t want to be forced to do the Blood Rites,” I told him. “But… what if Fane really is my mate? What if I’m supposed to be with him?”

“That is something only you can decide,” Vikram said sadly, “I am sorry you are being forced into this choice, and with so little time to consider the ramifications of your decision. It is unfair for you to be in this position and I wish I could change things for you.”

“Maybe I can talk Fane out of doing the blood rites so soon…”

“Perhaps.”

“You know, you’re really not living up to the possessive male werewolf stereotype,” I accused him.

He grinned, “I apologize. Would you rather I drag you to my cave and never let any males ever lay eyes on you again.”

“Maybe I would,” I said loftily.

“I can arrange that,” he chuckled, “In all seriousness, Jillian, I would love nothing more than to take you back to Colorado right now, away from all this, and take you as my mate. But I cannot force that on you with a clear conscience. I want you, but if your choices lead you elsewhere… that is how it must be.”

“You do… want me then?”

“I do.”

“How old are you?”

He adjusted his position on the couch uncomfortably, “I am… quite old.”

“You know I’m just seventeen.”

“I am aware.”

“And you’re saying you want to haul me to your pack and take me to bed?”

“Yes,” he admitted, “I do not see anything harmful about wants. What matters is that I shall not touch you until you are older and most especially not until or unless you decide you want my touch.”

“Hmm,” I frowned at him, “Okay then.”

“Luna?” I heard Fane’s voice questioning in my head. It made me jump.

“Are you alright?” Vikram asked.

“Fane’s talking to me,” I told him.

“Ah,” he said, his expression shifting. He wasn’t happy.

“Luna, what’s happening? I haven’t heard from you?”

“I’m fine,” I told Fane, speaking out loud, “We’re just talking.”

“He hasn’t touched you?”

“Not at all,” I assured him. “Fane, I’m fine.”

“He has been there too long. Tell him to leave.”

“We’re talking,” I said firmly.

“About what?”

“Stuff…”

“Invite him to join,” Vikram stated.

“Really?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “I believe we have covered all the topics I wished to address privately.

“Okay… Uh, Fane?”

“I heard. I’m on my way.”

Within seconds, I heard the front door open and Fane came in. Before I knew what was happening, he had pulled me out of the chair, scooped me into his arms, and sat with me in his lap, his blue eyes piercing in Vikram’s direction.

“Fane,” Vikram inclined his head.

“Why are you still here?” he demanded, holding me tightly to his chest.

“Jillian and I were just discussing the future.”

“She and I are going to complete our bond,” Fane stated.

“I ask you to reconsider, Fane,” Vikram said calmly, though I saw tension in his eyes, “For Jillian’s sake.”

“You can’t have her,” Fane snarled, making me flinch.

Vikram held up his hands in surrender, “That is not what I am saying. I am making you an offer. You may keep Jillian, unchallenged by me, as long as you do not completely the Blood Rites with her until she explicitly says she is ready.”

“She’s ready,” Fane said.

“Is she?”

“Fane,” I whispered, “Please… I need time.”

“I told you, we’ll have time to get to know each other better afterwards.”

“What type of mate will you be to her if you cannot listen to such a simple request?” Vikram asked, a hint of actual anger in his voice.

Fane’s eyes glowed blue and his hold on me tightened almost painfully.

“It’s for her safety,” Fane growled.

“Can your Alpha not protect your mate?” Vikram asked, “Must you force her to undergo the Rites rather than offering her actual protection?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about! If she were really your mate, you’d understand.”

“If you truly cared for her, you would listen to her concerns and hesitations,” Vikram returned.

Fane let out a roar of anger and I found myself falling to the floor as he stood and advanced on Vikram. But Vikram didn’t move. He remained seated on the couch. Before reaching the Alpha, Fane seemed to think better of his attack.

“You are young,” Vikram told him, “You are impulsive. Do not let Jillian suffer for your immaturity.” He looked at me, where I’d fallen on the floor, “Are you alright?”

“Don’t talk to her,” Fane snarled, his eyes glowing bright blue.

“Alright,” Vikram inclined his head, “This conversation is no longer productive. I accept your challenge, Fane Lupai. When your Alpha arrives, we shall fight for mating rights.”

Slowly, Vikram stood, rising to his full height. Fane was tall, for sure, but he stood nearly a head shorter than Vikram, and his lanky teenage frame was no match for Vikram’s full figure.

Vikram looked to me, gave me a nod, and then turned to leave.

Fane stood, breathing hard, his eyes still glowing.

“Fane?” I said in a small voice.

When he faced me, I saw his teeth had lengthened into fangs. As he looked at me, the glow of his eyes faded and his fangs retracted.

“My Luna, I’m sorry,” he said, offering me his hand.

I shakily took it and he pulled me to my feet before hugging me close.

“Fane, please…” I begged, “Don’t make me do the Blood Rites yet.”

“Jillian,” he stroked the back of my head, “It’s for your safety. I’m sorry, but I’ll do what I must.”

Fane didn’t leave the house all day. He held me and tried to get me to eat something. But I couldn’t. Jen and Sally asked me all sorts of questions about Alpha Lovett, but I couldn’t answer them. I couldn’t talk about him around the lump in my throat.

When night came, my mom didn’t even bother asking Fane to leave. Jen and Sally went home and Fane and I cuddled in my bed.

I didn’t sleep well. My brain raced with questions.

How did I have all the signs of being mated to Fane? If Vikram had gotten to me first, would the signs have appeared for him? Or was I somehow not Vikram’s mate at all?

The idea of that hurt my heart, but I couldn’t deny it was possible.

Or maybe both of them were my mates…

I couldn’t imagine Fane ever being okay with sharing, so that possibility didn’t seem to matter.

I fell asleep with all those ideas swirling in my head.

When I woke, Fane told me his parents had arrived.

He went down to talk to them while I showered and tried to make myself look presentable. They were my future in-laws and pack, after all.

Everyone was in the kitchen when I got there. Fane pulled me into his arms before I even got a good look at everyone.

“Mother, Father, this is my mate, Jillian.”

“She’s beautiful,” a woman said. “How lovely to meet you, Jillian. I’m Alina.”

“Nice to meet you too,” I said in a small voice.

“I am Vasile,” a man stated. “This is my second in command, Decebel, and my third, Sorin.”

He gestured at two other men. One of which, I was certain I’d seen with Fane the night he arrived.

“We were just discussing your protection,” Vasile said, “If Fane falls tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I squeaked out.

“The challenge is set for tomorrow evening,” Fane told me.

“But… what do you mean if Fane falls?” I asked the older man.

“If Lovett kills him, my pack will still protect you,” Vasile told me, “You and your mother will be taken to Romania.”

I shook my head, “If Fane loses the challenge, then don’t I belong to Vikram?”

Fane growled, vibrating my body.

“Those are the rules of the challenge,” Alina said softly, her eyes sad, “But to think of your in the hands of that monster…”

“I won’t lose, Jillian,” Fane told me, “But… if I do, my parents will care for you.”

“Oh… I… thank you,” I whispered.

“In the meantime,” Vasile continued, “You and your mother will need to go to a hotel. Fane’s scent is all over this house now and while you are present for the challenge, you need to not carry the scent of either challenger.”

“I’ve already got Jen and Sally shopping for new clothes for you,” my mom said, “And I’ve got a room booked.

“Wait, mom… You’re on board with us just going to Romania?” I asked, “You’re the one that promised me to Vikram.”

She sighed heavily, “I was wrong. Vasile and Alina helped me see that. I thought Alpha Lovett was a good man, but he just wanted to get to you before another male could. I’m so sorry, Jillian.”

My heart sank.

“Oh.”

My mom was asleep as I slipped out of bed and found her purse. I pulled out her phone and found the number for Vikram Lovett. I typed the number into my own phone before slipping hers back into her purse and stepping outside.

He answered on the second ring, “This is Lovett.”

“Vikram?” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“Ind-Jillian?” he questioned.

My heart skipped a beat at the mistake. Was it really him?

“Yes,” I confirmed, “Can we talk? In person?”

“That is not permitted before the challenge tomorrow.”

“Please.”

He was silent for a moment and then he let out a slow breath, “Alright. Is this your own phone?”

“Yeah.”

“I will text you a location to meet. Insure no werewolves follow you.”

I waited, hugging myself nervously.

“Jillian?” a deep voice made me jump.

“Oh,” I let out a breath of relief, “Hi.”

Vikram smiled, “Hello. What is so important that could not be said over the phone?”

“The Romanian werewolves… they’re planning on breaking the rules of the challenge.”

“In what way?” he asked, his expression becoming concerned.

“If Fane loses, they’re taking me to their pack anyways. For my ‘safety,’” I said with a scoff.

“Did you tell them you do not want that?”

“I couldn’t. I was… I was worried how Fane would react.”

“I see. This is troubling. Did they say how they intend to do this?”

I shook my head, “Just that I should stick close to the Alpha’s mate during the fight.”

“Thank you for warning me. I will inform my pack and we will be prepared for that outcome. Did you feel unsafe telling me this over the phone?”

“No…” I said, taking a step towards him, “I… I couldn’t do this over the phone, though.”

I gripped the front of his jacket and got on my tiptoes. I couldn’t reach his lips, but he ducked down at met me in the middle, putting his hands on my waist.

It wasn’t a long kiss. He pulled back quickly.

“Indigo, I…”

I smiled widely, “Yeah?”

He winced, “I… I apologize, Jillian.”

I shook my head, “Indigo. That’s my name.”

“It is?” he questioned, frowning deeply.

“Vikram,” I said, a pleading note to my voice, “It’s me.”

“I do not understand,” he said.

“Neither do I,” I let out a sigh, “Did you ever read the Grey Wolves Series books?”

“I am aware of them. I am also aware they do not exist in this dimension.”

“Because we’re living it.”

“Indeed,” he said darkly.

“I’m in the place of Jacque, mated to the son of the Romanian Alpha,” I said, grimacing, “Lucky me.”

“I thought you liked him?” Vikram raised an eyebrow, his hands still on my waist.

“He’s so young,” I whined.

“You are seventeen, Indigo,” he pointed out.

“I was thirty before I came here.”

“How is that possible? You are not an After. I watched you grow up.”

“I don’t know, but I’ve had the memories of my previous life for… about as long as I can remember.”

“This is highly unusual.”

“No kidding. Why am I mated to Fane?”

“I do not know.”

“If… if I don’t complete the bond with him, am I gonna lose my mind? That’s what happens, right?”

“It is. Which is why I intended to allow you to be with him, if that was what you wanted.”

“I appreciate that, but… He’s scary, Vikram.”

“He is a young male werewolf. Worse still, he grew up very privileged. He is unused to be denied what he wants.”

“I’m getting that sense… Look, now that I know that you’re you and you know that I’m me… can’t we run away together?”

Vikram shook his head sadly, “I cannot risk a war with Romania. Their pack is far larger than mine. We would be destroyed. I am sorry, Indigo. As much as I love you, I cannot put my pack at that risk.”

“It’s okay,” I sighed, “I get it. You’re… you’re gonna kill Fane, then?”

“Only if he refuses to yield. Unfortunately, I fear that will be the case.”

“He’s just a kid…”

“I know. I do not like it any more than you do.”

“You tried talking sense into his father?”

“I have. Though, with the knowledge that they intend to break the rules of the challenge, I wonder if the only reason they have not already stolen you away is because they believe Fane has a chance of winning.”

“And… he doesn’t, right?” I asked nervously, “I mean… I’ve never actually met you before, so maybe I’m wrong, but… you’re like a giant fucking werewolf, right?”

He chuckled, “I am. While I cannot say there is no chance of Fane coming out victorious, I can say the odds are not in his favor. Vasile, however, has never seen me shifted. Few have.”

“Really?”

“I have done what I can to not stand out in this dimension. It has worked in our favor here.”

“Has it? Maybe if they knew they’d run with their fucking tails between their legs.”

“Perhaps. Indigo, you need to return to your hotel before they realize you have gone. I cannot be accused of breaking the challenge rules.”

I sighed and nodded, “Okay… Just… hold me first?”

He smiled and pulled me against him. I rested my head on his chest. I felt his warmth seep into me, easing my tense muscles.

“This is what you meant, right?” I asked, my voice slightly muffled, “Feeling like home.”

“It is,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head.

“It’s nice,” I said, rubbing my cheek against his chest affectionately, “Better than…”

“Than making out with Fane?”

My face warmed and I nodded.

He pushed my hair aside, his finger tracing over my marks.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“No,” he said, his voice pained, “I am sorry. Perhaps if I had handled things differently from the outset, you would not be in this position. Now you must go, pup.”

I pulled back and looked up at him, “Pup?”

“You dislike the title?” he asked.

“No, but… I didn’t expect it,” I mumbled, embarrassed.

He put his finger under my chin and bent down to press a brief kiss to my lips, “You will always be my pup. Now, Indigo… please. Return to the hotel and be certain to keep these clothes away from what you intend to wear tomorrow.”

“I already have a complicated plan to avoid getting your scent on me for tomorrow,” I told him wearily.

“It will be alright,” Alina told me as we walked to the location of the challenge. “Fane is strong.”

“Alina,” I whispered, “Please convince him not to do this. I don’t want him to die.”

“He will not. He has Alpha blood in him. This Alpha Lovett is not from an Alpha bloodline. Fane is young but he has trained for this.”

“He’s your only child,” I argued, “Is this really worth the risk?”

“You are his mate. Of course it is. It took Vasile seven hundred years to find me. For Fane to find you while still so young… It is unheard of. Your bond is special, Jillian. Never doubt that.”

“I’m sure it is…” I said reluctantly, “But… Look, Vikram…. Alpha Lovett… he just wants Fane and me to wait to do the Rites. That’s all he wants and then he’ll forfeit the challenge.”

Alina shook her head, “He may say that, but I doubt his honesty. And regardless, you should not wait. Vasile and I waited and I was nearly killed before we could do the Rites. It is not worth the risk.”

“I want to wait, though.”

“My dear,” she said sympathetically, “I know it feels daunting, but you will come to understand.”

Fuck…

We made our way to the location. Vikram and a handful of wolves from his pack were already there on one side, while Vasile, Fane, and a handful of wolves from their pack stood on the other side.

“In order for this to remain equal,” Vikram’s voice boomed, “I would request that a female member of my pack remain by Jillian’s side, along with the Romanian Alpha’s mate.”

“No,” Fane snapped but Vasile held up a hand.

“As you wish, Alpha Lovett,” Vasile said.

“Teryn,” Vikram nodded towards one of the she-wolves.

A middle aged woman with long silky black hair moved towards me.

She gave a small bow, “I’m Teryn. May I join you?”

“Y-yes,” I agreed.

She moved to stand on my other side from Alina. I let out a small breath of relief. With Teryn there, Alina couldn’t just grab me and run.

“This is a challenge… to the death,” Vasile spoke to the group, “Alpha Vikram Lovett, you accept this?”

“I do,” Vikram replied.

“Fane Lupei, you accept this?”

“I do,” Fane said.

“You both shall shift and the challenge will begin at the sound of the gong.��

Fane undressed quickly, his expression one of determination. He shifted into what looked to be a very large black and silver wolf. Standing near the others of his pack, his head came up just past their stomach.

Vikram undressed slower, his expression one of resignation. I suspected he had tried one last time before I arrived to talk Fane and Vasile out of this. Once he was undressed, he shifted and there was a collective gasp from the Romanian pack. Vasile shot a glare at them and they regained control of themselves.

Beside me, Alina covered her mouth with her hand and spoke soft words in a language I didn’t understand.

Vikram was massive. A woman stood near him from his pack and his nose was level with hers. His coat was solid black.

The woman stepped forward and spoke, “My Alpha wanted me to give you another chance to forfeit before the fight begins.”

Vasile looked to the much smaller black wolf and asked, “Do you forfeit?”

The wolf didn’t hesitate to growl and shake his head.

“Then we shall continue,” Vasile stated.

Teryn gave a sad sigh beside me.

Glancing around the werewolves, it was clear everyone knew exactly how this would end.

And it was my fault.

A tear fell down my cheek as the gong sounded.

Alina fell to her knees beside me, crying and saying words in Romanian that I didn’t understand but their meaning was clear. The giant wolf that was Vikram had the much smaller Fane pinned down. Vikram’s massive paw was on Fane’s throat. Just a little pressure and Fane would be dead.

Vasile stood emotionless. His brow was a hard ridge. His jaw worked.

Even in such a hopeless position, Fane was snarling and kicking at Vikram.

“Yield, Fane,” I begged mentally. But the wall was up between us. He didn’t want to hear me.

“Please,” Alina spoke in English, “Alpha Lovett, spare my son!”

“Alina,” Vasile snapped and then spoke in Romanian.

She ignored her mate, “I will do anything you ask. Just do not take my boy from me. Please.”

She bowed her head until it touched the ground, her body shaking with sobs.

The giant wolf gave a rumble and stepped back. The instant Fane was free, he went for the throat. Vikram easily batted him away, but he came back for more. With a warning growl, Vikram pinned him again. I saw the conflict in his eyes as he placed one paw over Fane’s throat and another over his hips.

A sickening crunch filled the air, along with the most horrible sound of pain I’d ever heard. Alina lifted her head and cried out in emotional anguish at the sound.

But Fane wasn’t dead. Vikram backed away and Fane lived, but was whimpering in pain and dragging himself across the ground, his back legs at a strange angle. I realized, Vikram hadn’t crushed his throat, but his legs.

Despite the injury, Fane continued to move towards Vikram, who barely had to take a step to get away from the smaller wolf’s jaws.

“Fane Lupei is unable to continue the fight,” Vasile said, his voice tight, “Alpha Vikram Lovett is the victor.”

Before he had finished speaking, I felt Teryn wrap her arms around me and lead me towards her pack.

“Jillian!” I heard Fane call in my head.

I looked back and saw Vasile bent down to tend to the injured wolf.

“I’m sorry, Fane,” I whispered and then shut down the connection.

OH does anyone wanna read the 14k word nonsense I wrote to test out my new keyboard?

When I received my new keyboard, I needed to test it out so I had a really silly idea for something and ended up writing 14k words.

It's really a whole lot of nothing but it has Vikram and some weird werewolf romance going on lol. It's also *technically* a fanfic of a YA werewolf romance series I read as a teen. It's just... weird.

And also is technically canon to my weird multiverse.

#oc vikram #unknown's writing

9 notes · View notes

britishassistant · 2 years ago

Note

Hi and Happy Belated Birthday! I was wondering if I could formally request the special addition of that time Jamil had the Reporter stuck in an hourglass and had to get them out himself? The very idea of it had me cackling in my chair, it seems like such a hilarious scenario! Quite possibly my favorite one in the entirety of your brilliant Supervillain AU.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

“Is this really necessary?”

The question’s enough to make Kalim look back, nervous. But Jamil sets his shoulders, tilts his head to the the side.

“Well, if you can’t be well-mannered enough to be trusted to remain tied to your chair, reporter,” Snake Charmer hisses, “Then you shouldn’t be surprised when we resort to extreme measures.”

The aforementioned reporter has the nerve to look indignant as they’re pushed into the top half of the hourglass.

“See if I save you from a dunking next time then!” They fume, pouting in a manner that’s both distracting and likely exaggerated to try and throw Jamil off his game.

He leans against the control panel, pretending to rub his “beard”, but being careful not to actually smudge it. “Unfortunately for you, reporter, there isn’t going to be a next time. Water Boy?”

“All set, Ja—Snake Charmer!” Water Boy chirps obnoxiously, slamming the glass door shut like Jamil’s told him not to dozens of times and scurrying down the ladder and clear of the mechanism. It always means it gets wedged too hard, leaking sand and being a royal pain to open later.

Jamil tries not to sigh too obviously, and instead takes pleasure in pressing the button that activates this particular trap.

The reporter stumbles as the half of the hourglass they’re in begins to tilt, trying to balance on the slick glass before tumbling, quite literally, arse over teakettle. They end up uncomfortably sprawled on their shoulders with their knees over their head and groaning softly by the time the rotation is finished. The brown lining on the inside of their neat little blazer clearly visible.

The seat of their jeans also appears pleasantly full, thanks to this position.

“…mer? Snake Charmer?”

Jamil doesn’t quite start at the sound of Kalim’s voice, but it’s a near thing.

“Hm? Ah-a-ahem!” He recovers admirably, if he does say so himself, walking around to sprawl against the control panel with the kind of artful carelessness that it’s taken him months to perfect. “As you can see, Mx. Radcliffe, you have until the sand fills the bottom of the hourglass to beg for mercy and repentance, and swear to tell me everything you’ve learned about my…esteemed colleagues during your time with them, and I may take pity on you. If not…”

The reporter rolls into a crouch, scooting away from the stream of sand that’s begun to pour down to cover the floor of the hourglass.

The defiant glare they shoot him makes something curl warm and satisfied in his gut.

“I suppose you’ve got a little under half an hour to reflect upon your regrets.” He leans closer to the glass, amused when they pointedly don’t shift back or look away. “How about it, reporter? You’ve spent so long uncovering the foibles of others—care to share a few dirty secrets of your own?”

There’s a flash of suppressed alarm in their eyes that sends goosebumps over Jamil’s skin.

He feels his own eyes growing hot as he opens his mouth—

“Not so fast, snake!”

It’s only years of experience dodging Kalim’s assassins that allow Jamil to fling himself back and away from the hero who has so rudely interrupted. It’s that same experience which allows him to stifle an irritated groan.

There, dressed in his absolutely ludicrous tiger-themed costume that Jamil still can’t quite believe he allows himself to be caught dead in, crouches Namir al-Asim. Kalim’s second-eldest cousin, who went into heroics to bolster the Asim reputation and work off his aggravation at not being Kalim. (Not entirely successfully, if his latest lawsuit is anything to go by).

The control panel Snake Charmer was leaning on now has large chunks swiped out of it and is sparking dangerously.

Jamil tries not to imagine what would’ve happened if he hadn’t gotten out of the way in time.

“Ah, Asim.” He lets his tone drip with all the venom he usually has to keep under lock and key. “So gracious of you to drop in.”

“I’ve told you,” Namir growls, nails lengthening into claws, “it’s—!”

“I don’t care.” Snake Charmer cuts him off. “Are you here on behalf of the important members of your family, or is this a social call? Either way, as you can see, I’m already entertaining.”

Namir actually does a double take at the sight of the reporter, as though he hadn’t even noticed they were inside the giant hourglass. He growls, “I told you to stay out of this!”

“I didn’t even do anything this time! He’s the one who kidnapped me!” The reporter’s retort sounds tinny and warped through the glass. “Also if this is what you call ‘entertaining’, Snake Charmer, then I’d hate to see what you do to bore people. At least Royal Flush gives me snacks.”

Snake Charmer feels a competitive grin curl over his face, and bows with a flourish. “My deepest apologies Mx. Radcliffe. Though perhaps you’ll revise that opinion once you see our aquatic performance? It’s said tigers are good swimmers—let’s put that to the test.”

Which is all the warning Namir gets before Water Boy unleashes the tidal wave he’d been building up since his cousin arrived.

“Sorry!” He yells, which makes Jamil roll his eyes behind his mask.

At least Kalim hasn’t accidentally alluded to the familial relationship between him and the hero again.

Yet.

They’re just lucky that Namir’s never been known for his listening or critical thinking skills. It makes it so much easier to have one of them play ‘bait’ and attract his attention, while the other preps a trap for the hero to fall into or call for reinforcements.

Snake Charmer does both.

Admittedly the pit traps and buzz saws aren’t quite enough to really slow Namir down that much, what with his enhanced reflexes. Neither are Asp, Adder, Boa, Krait, Ikeheka, or Python, regardless of the fact that Asp and Boa run a capoeira dojo together in their civilian guises, Adder used to box professionally, and Krait, Ikeheka and Python are in consideration for national-level synchronized swimming.

To be honest, Jamil wouldn’t be entirely comfortable betting on himself or Water Boy being able to overcome his cousin one-on-one— Kalim’s still got a streak of soft-heartedness in him that all the trials of his and Jamil’s childhoods hasn’t been able beat out of him, while Namir’s got a chip digging into his shoulders that seemingly is only alleviated by inflicting assault and battery on dubiously guilty members of the public. Jamil himself is good, as a Viper he’s had to be, but he’s not “take on a raging powerhouse face-on and emerge unscathed” good.

But all together? All at once?

Then Snake Charmer is very confident that if they can’t defeat this jumped-up figurehead of a hero, they can at least beat him within an inch of his life and make him think twice before he sets foot into this particular nest of vipers again.

At some point during the frantic rush of trying to direct machines and people and improvisations to slow Namir’s efforts to break everything Snake Charmer has built for himself, Jamil becomes aware of an odd thudding noise, that isn’t quite following the sounds of battle.

He ducks away from a potentially nasty blow from a flung axle to chance a quick scan of the room.

Oh. The reporter’s begun throwing themself at the wall of the hourglass.

The bottom-half of the hourglass, which is now just over half full of sand. The aforementioned sand is now covering the reporter’s shoulders and rapidly reaching higher. And despite the reporter’s best efforts and their increasingly panicked expression, the glass holds firm against their attempts to brute-force an escape.

As it would, it’s reinforced to hold a person’s weight, and will take more than unarmed blows to put a crack in it. Jamil should know. He paid for it.

Which. Is fine? Not ideal, certainly. By his reckoning, Namir should’ve freed the reporter from the trap by now, even if it was just to dump them in a barely defensible corner and get back to fighting. That he hasn’t is…mildly disconcerting, but. No matter, surely? It’s a victory for him if they die in the hourglass, right?

Sure, it’ll be a pain for him if they die before he can pump them for information on Royal Flush, King, Leviathan, and Octo Dealer’s weaknesses. Rather a disadvantage actually, given all the trouble he’s gone through to kidnap them and bring them here only for Namir to interfere. If they die now…

No, no, focus, Snake Charmer, focus. You can’t risk everything over a reporter. You’re overreacting. Namir will be saving them at any moment now.

Right?

Namir doesn’t seem to have noticed though, doesn’t even seem to care in his mission to inflict as much bodily harm on Snake Charmer’s minions as he possibly can. If it wasn’t for the way the ears on his ridiculous costume twitch with every weakening thud, Jamil would think him genuinely oblivious. As it is, he clearly is just bad at prioritizing.

Water Boy keeps shooting Jamil and the hourglass worried glances when he really should be paying attention to the battle, even foolishly attempting to bait his cousin into accidentally hitting it by placing himself in harm’s way. Luckily Ikeheka and Adder are focusing on their primary directive of ensuring no permanent harm comes to Water Boy, but it’s beginning to interfere with Snake Charmer’s meticulously improvised defense.

Fine. Fine! If you want a job done right…

Under the cover of two pit traps under each of Namir’s feet activating simultaneously, alongside Asp and Boa’s impressive offensive, Snake Charmer slinks around to the back of the hourglass.

Honestly, it’s just a good thing he thought to install a door that can be unlocked from the outside on—!

The door is jammed.

No matter how often he flicks the lock or how hard he tugs on the handle, it won’t budge. A thin trickle of sand is all that escapes, but that’s it. The door’s wedged past its own frame. It’ll take ages to release it, requiring the entire hourglass to be flipped the other way and careful unscrewing of the hinges.

That’s time the reporter doesn’t have, even without taking into account the fact that Namir destroyed the control panel that could flip it back upright.

Jamil glances up frantically, to check how much time Yuu Radcliffe does have before he needs to start panicking.

Just in time to see the reporter’s head disappear under the sand entirely.

Shit.

“Swarm that hero!!” Snake Charmer almost doesn’t recognize his own voice as he yells.

The whisper he’d implanted activates in all the minions aside from Water Boy. Their attacks become more relentless, driving Namir into a corner, with no recognition of pain or injuries they sustain. He’ll need to give them all bonuses in addition to compensation later, not to mention ensure they have the appropriate time off to recover, but for now—

“Water Boy!” He commands, “The Forget-Me-Stick!”

It takes a moment but Water Boy’s eyes eventually light up in realization. “Ah—Right!”

Snake Charmer was not expecting Water Boy to lob the Forget-Me-Stick at him rather than actually hit the hourglass himself like he is perfectly capable of doing, but what else can he really expect out of him?

At least it means Jamil has a reinforced weapon to hand capable of freeing the reporter.

The first hit just fractures the glass rather than truly cracking it, hairline webs of lines that are more accusatory than helpful, not even breaching the interior.

Jamil grits his teeth and puts his back into the next two swings.

It isn’t until the fourth blow that the glass finally shatters and gives way, spilling sand and shards out across the floor.

Even then it takes some digging to actually locate the reporter’s body and drag them free of the debris, ensuring this suit will need a through dry-clean in the process.

The reporter’s worryingly still, eyes shut, sand encrusting their features.

He’s not entirely sure they’re breathing.

Jamil pinches their nose and blows air into their mouth before starting chest compressions. He’s practiced this hundreds of times, had to just in case Kalim ever needed it, but never on a genuinely unresponsive person before. Are his compressions hard enough? Should he be working to dislodge something from their airway instead? He leans down again—

They cough. And keep coughing as he draws back and helps roll them onto their side, moaning softly as they spit out sand, their breathing juddering and unsteady.

“Sn-Sna-ake?” Their eyes are unfocused as they flutter open. “Ow. Wh-wha…?”

Jamil can’t quite help the way he deflates in relief.

“Yuu!” Kalim’s shout rings out and brings with it awareness of the battle raging on behind him. “You’re okay!! Hey look, Namir, Yuu’s okay!! Isn’t that great?!”

“GET OVER HERE SO I CAN RIP YOUR ARMS FROM THEIR SOCKETS, VILLAIN!!!” Namir roars back.

Jamil has officially reached the end of his willingness to deal with this. He strips off his jacket with business-like efficiency and folds it up so it can function as a somewhat passable pillow under the reporter’s head. Then he rolls up his sleeves as he stands and pulls his whip back out.

His minions have done an admirable job of temporarily subduing Namir, even if it’s clear he’s on the verge of breaking out of Adder and Krait’s holds.

Snake Charmer’s whip flashes out and wraps itself around the moronic upstart’s throat, yanking him around to look directly into the supervillain’s eyes.

“Snake Whisper.”

It’s almost satisfying to watch the dawning horror cross Namir’s face before it drops in dopey, slack compliance.

“You will actually fulfill your role as a hero,” Jamil orders. “And take Mx. Radcliffe to the nearest hospital for treatment. By the time you arrive at that building, you’ll have forgotten the location of this lair entirely. Understood?”

At Namir’s blank nod, Jamil clicks his fingers.

With muttered curses and pained grunts, his minions come back to themselves and don’t quite let go of Namir so much as fall over on jellied muscles that have been pushed to their limits. Water Boy immediately scuttles over, muttering small reassurances and frantic questions of how’s everyone feeling, do they want any water, a hot compress, a cold compress, some crackers?

Namir shambles over to where the reporter lies curled up, and scoops them up with a gentleness that could only come from external control. As he turns and begins to bound back over and up through the hole in the ceiling he burst in through, Snake Charmer’s eyes catch Yuu Radcliffe’s.

Their gaze is wide, stunned, almost reverent. Like they don’t understand what’s going on, but desperately want to.

And then they and Namir are gone, vanished into the sunny afternoon.

Snake Charmer heaves a heavy sigh, collects his jacket and tries his best to shake the excess sand out of it. He does not think about how it smells a little like Yuu the reporter. He certainly isn’t briefly smacked in the face with the intrusive thought that their lips were actually quite soft, weren’t they?

“I need a nap.” Jamil grouses as he stalks out. “Get someone in to clean this up.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #supervillain au #jamil viper #snake charmer #kalim al asim #water boy #twst yuu #twisted wonderland yuu #jamil x yuu #namir al asim

95 notes · View notes

quaranmine · 3 years ago

Text

New World, New Faces

When the hermits moved to their new world, they were excited to welcome two new members. But maybe one is an old friend instead . . .

Grian hasn't seen Pearl since Evo. It's a shock.

No romantic relationships or content warnings. Mainly emotional hurt/comfort, but probably more emphasis on comfort. Hermits: Grian, Pearl, and Mumbo primarily with a little bit of Scar and Xisuma as well. Reblogs appreciated and AO3 link in reblog!

Words: 3893

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

These days, Grian was pleased to say that the Watcher’s didn’t occupy his mind nearly as often as they used to. Except on certain late nights where he lay in bed and thought of before, his time was mostly spent having fun--scheming, pranking, building, planning, mining, laughing with friends. It wasn’t something he could forget, but the hermits had become his new home, and as years passed the edges of those memories had dulled a bit.

The other times where the Watchers occupied his mind were update days. Since joining hermitcraft, Grian had gone through several updates with the rest of the server. Sometimes they moved to a new world, and sometimes they stayed in their old one. No portals of bedrock ever appeared, but Grian always thought of them just the same. It always felt like maybe, just maybe, one day he’d turn around and see their signature portals once again.

Watchers didn’t always leave portals to update worlds. Grian hadn’t known that until he’d been put to work as a Watcher himself. Oh, the Watchers were still in charge of updating worlds, but they often did it more subtly, without grand towers and quests for portals. It’s hard to retain status as a myth when everyone knows your calling card, afterall. Admins always knew when it was time to update. Grian hadn't, back on Evo, because he’s always been told.

It turned out Evo had been different, and Grian didn’t know how to feel about that. Evo wasn’t the only world to receive special attention from the Watchers, but it was one of their favorites. Why them, though? Why did the Watchers keep such a close eye on their world in particular? Why were they left towers and clues and prizes and punishments, when other servers were mostly left alone?

Why did they kill everyone and kidnap Grian?

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Grian stood in a group with the other hermits, eagerly waiting for the move to the new world. He bounced a little in anticipation. He was excited for the new update--he knew very little about its contents, but it seemed like there would be some new building blocks to play with, according to Xisuma.

He already had plans for the new world--new bases and new shenanigans. Grian was excited to build close to his friends. Xisuma had informed them that another update would come in a few months, and for the hermits to stick close in the time being so that new land would be freed up for the coming update. Grian had already known about the second update for a while, as all Watchers do, but he let Xisuma handle all of this as admin. Those days were behind him, now, and there was no reason to start exercising Watcher powers in a world that was carrying on just fine on its own.

“Is everyone ready?” Xisuma shouted over the chatter, trying to do a headcount. “Hey!” he shouted, trying to get everyone’s attention. Slowly, the chatter quieted.

“Looks like it,” said Iskall.

“Good,” Xisuma said. “Now, before we go, I wanted to remind you that we have two new people joining us this time. I’ve already made arrangements with them prior so they’re gonna be waitin’ for us when we go through.” He grinned. “Be on your best behavior for me, alright?”

“I’m always on my best behavior,” Keralis replied, and Xisuma rolled his eyes fondly.

Grian smiled, remembering his welcome to hermitcraft a few years ago. Unlike this time, nobody had been expecting him. Grian hadn’t been invited like these two new hermits had been, he had just been there when the hermits arrived on their new world. None of the other hermits knew quite why he was there, but they’d all accepted him graciously nonetheless.

Grian liked that memory. The truth is, he’d fled the Watchers and picked an uninhabited world at random, not realizing it had already been reserved by Xisuma. That was a failure on his part as a Watcher, because he was supposed to know about stuff like that. But he had been too busy running to worry about it and besides, there was nobody on hermitcraft to punish him.

The hermits had welcomed him with kindness and made him part of their family. Now he’d gladly do the same for these new soon-to-be hermits.

“Okay . . .” Xisuma said, typing something into his admin panel. “I’m just setting up the portal now.”

They were all gathered in the shopping district, right in front of the Town Hall. Grian took his chance to take one last glance around at the world. The diamonds in the trees glittered in the morning light, sending little reflective shards of light scattered on the ground. Moving worlds was always bittersweet, because it meant parting with the things he’d worked hard on and the places he’d made memories at. But it was also one of his favorite things to do, because it gave everyone a blank slate to work with, sparking endless new creativity.

“I wish I could take some of those with me,” chuckled Scar, as he walked up next to where Grian was standing. He pointed at the diamonds.

“Well of course you want them, Mr Mayor!”

“Uh-uh,” Scar said. “I’m not the Mayor anymore! This is a new world.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see what we get up to in the next one, huh?” Grian asked. “Do you have any plans?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Scar teased.

“I guess I will.”

“Do you have any plans?”

“I don’t know,” said Grian. He thought for a moment. “I might make a cave base. I guess I’m waiting to see what’s out there for inspiration before I start.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing it,” Scar replied. “Oh! It looks like Xisuma is ready.”

Grian looked up, to see X opening a portal. It wasn’t a nether portal, nor was it like an End portal. It wasn’t a Watcher portal either, but an Admin one. Grian had come to realize that Watchers supplied Admins with the means to move into updates on their own when they wanted to. The bedrock portals and scavenger hunts were reserved for their favorite worlds--their toys.

Sometimes the Watchers liked to flex their powers, but the universe is not kept running smoothly if all your time is spent flexing. Grian brushed away the thought, choosing to focus on his friends in front of him instead.

One by one, the hermits stepped through the portal, which swirled light blue and hovered just slightly off the ground. Grian hung back, wanting to be one of the last ones through. He wanted to make sure everyone made it through alright, but Xisuma had to be the very last person, since he needed to close the portal. When it was finally his turn, he gave Xisuma a smile and walked forward.

Grian stepped through, into the bright sunlight of a village, and was surrounded by the voices of his friends.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Spawn was a village in a grassland, next to a swamp and overlooking the ocean. It looked a little plain, but the hermits hadn’t left their mark on the world yet. Behind Grian, Xisuma stepped out into the new world and the portal vanished behind him.

Everybody was crowded around a ditch chattering, apparently exchanging greetings with the two new hermits that stood inside it. Grian held back for a moment, taking it in and basking in the sounds of his friends’ voices. Finally, he wasn’t the new one anymore--a few people had rejoined the server in the last world, but they’d all been old friends, not new ones. That had left him being the most recent addition, not that anything felt like it was recent anymore.

Grian was already thinking of ways to prank the new hermits and draw them into the life of the server.

“Alright Mumbo!” Xisuma said. Grian grinned. Mumbo was supposed to introduce them. Mumbo, of course, didn’t know this, because where’s the fun in that?

“Oh-oh me?”

“It’s go time!” Cleo said.

“This is it!” said Xisuma.

“I’ve clearly very obviously been put up to this,” Mumbo started. “And because everyone thought it’d be much funnier to have me bumble through it without really knowing what I’m talking about, and that is definitely going to be the case!”

The hermits chuckled. Grian walked around the back of the group to try to catch a glimpse of the new people below.

“We do have two new hermits,” Mumbo said, “down in this crevice.”

Grian caught a glimpse of red and brown hair.

“GeminiTay-”

Grian’s world stopped and he felt his breath catch in his throat. She had her back to him, but he’d recognize her anywhere. Her brown hair spilled out from behind a black hoodie.

But she’s dead.

Was this some sort of cruel trick from the universe?

“-and PearlescentMoon.” The rest of the hermits cheered at the announcement, giving the new members a warm welcome. Grian said nothing, his mind spinning a mile a minute.

There was no way it was actually her. The Watchers . . . the Watchers had killed her, and every other Evolutionist. Grian didn’t know why. He would never know why, because with the Watchers it was always “you can’t possibly understand.”And Grian couldn’t. When Grian had finally escaped them, he tried to go back to Evo. It was a foolish attempt, one that would certainly have endangered the lives of anyone there, but nobody had been left there and the buildings were all destroyed and overgrown with vines and Grian had been forced to conclude the heavy truth that all of his old friends were gone.

He didn’t remember what he did after that. He just ran.

Before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “Pearl? Is that really you?”

She turned, hearing her name and--it was. It was her. Her hair had blonde highlights around the bangs now, but he’d recognize her anywhere, like her face and the faces of all the other Evolutionists were seared into his brain.

“. . . Grian?”

Grian just stared.

The other hermits had caught onto their mini debacle, and were watching them. “Grian, do you know her?” Mumbo asked.

“Y-yeah, I do,” he stammered.

“Grian?” Pearl shouted, and in an instant had scrambled up the ditch. She stopped in front of him, face pale and eyes wide, like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe he was a ghost, maybe he’d died the day they took him from Evo.

“Pearl,” he whispered.

Suddenly she threw her arms around Grian in a hug and squeezed. “Oh, it’s been so long,” she said, voice muffled.

Grian froze, but slowly reciprocated the hug. He felt numb and like he wanted to cry and scream at the same time, hands shaking, but Pearl’s warm embrace drew him back down to reality.

Pearl pulled away, blinked tears from her eyes and met Grian’s stare. Then, her gaze drifted further down, landing on his folded wings that peaked out just above his shoulders. Tentatively, she reached out to stroke a feather. “What happened to you?” she asked softly.

“I thought you were dead,” Grian said by way of answer.

“Well, I’m not,” Pearl said, and for a moment Grian almost didn’t believe her, and grabbed her wrist tightly, just to see if it was real. Pearl let him. “They took you,” she said.

Grian just looked at the ground, uncomfortably aware of how many people were watching him. Ironic, almost--he didn’t want them watching him so that they wouldn’t know about the Watchers. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the hermits. He did. He’d trust them all with his life a thousand times. He just . . . didn’t want to explain. The hermits were a good bunch. The unspoken rule was that you didn’t ask about anyone’s past unless they spoke first, and Grian knew they’d abide by that for him as well. But he could do without the turned heads.

“Alright everyone!” Xisuma shouted suddenly, startling Grian. “Let’s go, let’s get to work, this season won’t start itself!” Slowly, the hermits began to disperse, branching off into groups. “How’re ya gonna start the season if you don't chop down a tree? I’ll get to work protecting these villagers.”

Xisuma threw a glance over to them, and Grian mouthed a thank you. Xisuma just nodded, and left them alone. Grian was overwhelmed with relief at the admin’s gesture.

He turned back to Pearl.

“I-I can’t believe you’re actually here,”Grian said. He smiled and the moment he met her gaze, his eyes began to blur with tears.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she cried. “When we got back from fighting the enderdragon you . . . you were just gone. They left a note for us . . . said it was necessary for you to be taken. All in rhyme, of course.”

“Of course it was in rhyme . . .'' Grian muttered, suddenly very angry. All the Watchers and their unknowable ways, always distilled down to some pithy saying. A life-changing event relayed to his friends in another stupid little poem. He’d written a few himself and despised it.

“I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again. Do you . . . do you mind if I ask what happened?” Pearl asked. “I’m just happy to see you here but I-”

“No, it’s alright,” Grian said with a sigh. “They took me after I fought the enderdragon, and said I was going to be one of them. I didn’t want to go but-well what could I do? So I went with them, and they promised to let me hang around the server. They lied to me, they never let me Watch Evo.” Grian paused, and felt the cool trail of a tear dripping down his cheek. “They later told me you were all dead.”

“Oh, Grian,” Pearl said, and pulled him into another hug, and that was it for him. He began to sob.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “It’s just a lot-”

“I know, I know,” she whispered.

“They-they . . . I didn’t enjoy it there. So I, I ran away. I tried to visit Evo but--there was nobody there. I figured they told the truth then, that you really were dead. I ran and found the hermits and I’ve been living with them every since, and oh they’re so wonderful but I could never forget-”

“It’s okay.” Pearl comforted. “I know, I know. We came home after finding the dragon and our place was ransacked, and we were given instructions to leave. And . . . eventually after we left, the group disbanded and we went our separate ways. But, we’re all alive.”

“Really?” Grian asked.

“Yes.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Can I- can I see them?” he whispered. It felt forbidden.

“Of course!” Pearl exclaimed. “I’ve kept in touch with everyone, I’m sure Xisuma could help you visit if you asked.”

“Xisuma . . .” Grian thought aloud. “I haven’t told him,” Grian admitted. The admin certainly knew something was up with Grian, because players didn’t normally randomly appear in worlds they weren’t supposed to, but he’d welcomed Grian with open arms to the server and never asked a single question.

“I’m sure he would understand.”

“He would, but Pearl, I don’t want to put anyone in danger! I’m not supposed to be here!” Grian hissed.

“So then don’t tell him everything. Just say you want to visit some people. He’ll understand, I know he will,” she replied. Grian pondered it for a moment. She was right--he could just ask to visit someone. Other hermits did it all the time. Maybe--maybe a few server hops wouldn’t cause a problem. Maybe this was something within his reach, after all this time. The thought exhilarated him.

“But please,” Pearl added. “Please tell someone else, not just me. How long have you been hiding?”

Too long.

Grian didn’t answer, and the two of them stood there and listened to the crash of the waves on the nearby shoreline. The air was hot and salty, and in the distance he could hear Xisuma opening and closing doors in the village.

He didn’t know what he felt, it was like too many emotions had happened in too short of a period of time and left him burned out like a forest after a wildfire. His hands had stopped trembling, but he felt deeply tired.

Happy. You feel happy.

Grian’s communicator chimed from within his pocket. He withdrew it.

GoodTimeWithScar > Grian: are you okay

Grian smiled, and typed a response.

Grian > GoodTimeWithScar: yes

“Who was that?” Pearl asked.

“Scar. He wanted to know if I was okay.”

“Are you?”

Grian met her eyes. “I am now.” It was close enough to the truth. Grian shifted his weight between his feet, suddenly restless and tired from trying to process all this new information. “Speaking of other hermits, we should get going, yeah? We can’t let them get all the resources without us!”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she chuckled. The hermits had already spread out seeking resources, but not too far yet; Grian and Pearl could still see several of them talking to each other across the field.

“Pearl, before you go--” Grian started, looking serious. “Build next to me, alright? I...I want you to be around.”

“I promise,” she replied.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

“Why are you following me?” Grian knew why, but he wanted Mumbo to bring it up. He was torn--on one hand, he truly appreciated his friend’s concern. It was nice that others were looking out for him, a warm reminder of what their little community stood for. On the other hand . . . he’d really have just appreciated being left alone.

“You look like you have a purpose!” Mumbo exclaimed instead.

Huh.

Grian shook his head. “I’m just heading north,” he replied, shielding his eyes and looking up to see the position of the sun.

“I was just like, ‘Man, it looks like he knows where he’s going,’” Mumbo continued and Grian laughed.

They walked to the edge of the swamp, and began to cut down the trees. Starter tools were a necessity in a new world, and they had no stone.

“Ugh, I have to take down this whole tree, and then I have to replant it,” complained Mumbo.

“Wait-why have you got to replant it?” asked Grian incredulously, while getting wood for himself and not replanting the tree.

“Well I-I can’t just deforest things!”

This is going to be SO much fun to tease Mumbo with.

“Whatever you say, tree boy.”

They continued to work, getting wood, and then venturing into a shallow cave to get stone. The whole time their coms kept buzzing, buzzing, buzzing with combat death messages. Just another day in the hermitcraft world, thought Grian. Have they declared a spontaneous war up there? Either way, Pearl and Gem were getting the full introduction today, he thought with a chuckle.

Exiting the cave, they spotted a shipwreck not too far away, and decided to explore it. Grian pulled out a soggy buried treasure map, and they decided to go after it in a boat. Grian wanted to relax in the boat, to just breathe in the sea spray and try to calm his still-racing thoughts, but unfortunately Mumbo was the driver, and he was not a very good driver if you asked Grian. Grian had been tasked with navigation, which was a difficult thing when the driver couldn’t see the map you were describing.

The loot was good, and they divided it between themselves and then struck onward in the boat, this time with Grian commandeering the vessel. They looped back around to the shipwreck only to find a group of hermits that were a little too late to the prize. Pearl, Ren, and Doc were gathered around the boat looking a bit disappointed.

Mumbo and Grian decided to taunt them.

“Who got the loot?” shouted Ren.

“We got the loot!” Grian shouted back.

“Oh it was you guys,” said Pearl. Grian stuck his tongue out at her and cackled.

They looped back around to show off the Heart of the Sea, but Mumbo dropped their only diamond by accident and that was when Grian decided to steer the boat away before they lost any more valuables.

“I can’t believe you dropped the diamond,” Grian sighed.

“I was flexing too hard, I’m sorry!” cried Mumbo.

It was too comical, and Grian couldn’t be mad at his friend. They rowed on, closely following the coastline. After a few minutes, however, Mumbo asked a question.

“The new hermit, who we just saw with Doc and Ren--Pearl--is it. . . is it okay if I ask how you know her?” Mumbo spoke gently, knowing he was treading around a potentially sensitive topic. Grian knew the topic would have come up eventually, after he’d basically had a breakdown in public when he saw her.

Grian stopped the boat, and looked into the water, not at Mumbo’s face. “Yeah, I figured you’d ask. We used to be on a world together. The . . . the world I was at before I came here, actually.” It wasn’t the full truth, since he’d been to many worlds as a Watcher and had lived on the Watchers’ world for a while. But Evo had been his last home.

“Oh,” said Mumbo.

“We were friends,” continued Grian. “We were close. But I was told she was dead. Clearly, though,” he just simply gestured instead of finishing the sentence.

“Clearly she’s not dead,” Mumbo finished. “I see. Who told you she was dead?”

“Someone who didn’t have my best interests at heart.” Grian had never fully told his friend about what had happened before he joined hermitcraft, but the other man knew that it was a difficult past and had comforted him on more than one occasion--mostly after he’d first joined and the pain was still fresh. It had dulled with time and Grian had become more and more adjusted to his new life.

Seeing Pearl again was a miracle, but it sure sharpened the pain.

Grian rested his elbows on the side of the boat and pressed the heels of his palm into his eyes. “It wasn’t just her, either, they told me everyone on the server was dead. And-they’re all alive. All of them. It’s fantastic news, brilliant news, I’m just-”

“Thinking of the people who didn’t have your best interests at heart?”

“Yeah.”

Mumbo laid a hand on Grian’s shoulder. “I don’t know who they are,” he began, “but I know they’re not here now. You have us now, and you have Pearl here too. That all is in the past.”

Grian stared out over the water, watching as the sunlight sparkled and danced over the waves. “You’re a good friend, you know that right?”

“Well, I do try to be,” Mumbo chuckled. “Now-I think we should probably go pick up Scar over there, I think the poor man is going to drown!”

“Oh no!” Grian said, and scrambled for the oars, and then they were off.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

When Grian, Impulse, Scar, and Mumbo created the Boatem Pole, Pearl was there to join them.

When Grian woke up in his makeshift camp the next morning, he was happy to see Pearl setting up her own starter base on the other side of the Boatem Pole.

When Grian showed up at Xisuma’s base two days later, he asked for permission to visit other servers.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #grian #pearlescentmoon #hermitcraft fanfic #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft season 8 #quara fanfic

199 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

#bnha 294 #mr. compress #...and actually that's pretty much it lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry this is up later than usual (and mostly unedited as well)#just one of those days

600 notes · View notes

leyyvi · 3 years ago

Note

Thinking about that little snippet you posted of the next paychecks and don’t mind me just foaming at the mouth! Levi masturbating has been on my mind none stop. I’m thinking he’s in his car and he just had some shit meeting it’s dark out and the city lights are shining and he feeling frustrated and just when his shirt collar starts feeling too tight his cellphone is lighting up his dimly lit car. It’s you texting him and when he sees the obnoxious name you put for yourself in his phone he’s relieved to let the rush of cool air seep into his lung. Your just sending him a photo you in your PJ’s sitting in your apartment watching a movie. ‘Just posted this to IG, didn’t want you to feel left out ;)’ he shakes his head. The smile that breaks across his tired face comes easily. He see’s the little bubbles letting him know your texting. ‘ya know because your a grump and won’t do social media.’ But his eyes can’t help but settle on the way your nipples are hard in your little spaghetti strap night shirt. The curve of your neck looks amazing as you pose looking up to the camera and the angle offers a heavy amount of cleavage. His brows frown as his mind in a split second of weakness looses to that neanderthal desire to keep you for himself. To text you back and tell you to take it down. That only he should see you like this. But he knows that just his dick talking. He can feel how your well angled photo as effected him. Knowing full well that the release his body is asking for would be a shamed filled addition to his shitty day. Leaning his head against the steering wheel he try’s to calm himself down but his phone chimes again.

He hopes it work to distract himself from your ever going effects. But your so good to Levi so of course it you. Sending him another picture of looking out the big windows in your tiny apartment. Perhaps the only real feature of the charm filled home of your. The caption you’ve send is innocent ‘look at all the snow!’ Levi can tell that the image is suppose to display the snow that piling up on the ground but he’s too focused on your silhouette in the reflection of the window panels. Your legs exposed by the little sleep shorts you have on. Your supporting more weight on one foot leaving you a little off center. Levi finds himself zooming in on the picture groaning as he gets to see plush thighs he’s been between pressed together. Not able to take it he’s pushing against the tent that’s grown in his pants. Palm warm and firm as he presses against the front of his slacks. His eyes ghost back up to the picture catching the way your shirt hem got caught on your hip teasing him. He’s trying to force the memory to the front of his mind, when his lips had found their place there. He want to feel it again. Wanted to sucked his mark against the sensitive flesh and relish in how you’d squirmed. His belt is loose hanging off to the side and he’s got his hand pulling himself free. He didn’t even look around. You’d made him a desperate man. Your kindness leaving him needy for more of you. One hand around his cock and the other on his phone. He keeps himself hunched over the steering wheel hoping to offer himself some kind of privacy to defile the imagines you so kindly sent him. — I-I wrote too much. If tumblr lets this send I am so sorry. It just got out of hand.

i-i.................

i don't know what i deserved to recieve such a vivid n hot scenario like this but HOLY FUCK? i'm in love with this.

the way you described his belt. HIS BELT. I could HEAR the clink of his belt as he unbuckles it :( that STUCK WITH ME IDK WHY UGH but godddddddd

"One hand around his cock and the other on his phone." this is so fucking attractive, i dont understand why but it is. im having the most clear image of him in the driver's seat pumping himself so desperately like he couldn't cum fast enough. agHHH YOU GAVE ME SO MANY IDEAS FOR CH. 16 I DONT WANNA SPOIL ANYTHING BUT THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR THIS.

#not sfw #mdni #im so in love with how you describe the little things like the collar of his shirt being too tight bc he's so frustrated #how he instantly relaxes when he sees your name on his phone I'm gonna cryyyyy #levi hcs #im dying rn AHHHH #DO NOT APOLOGIZE I LOVED READING EVERY WORD

33 notes · View notes

amiedala · 4 years ago

Text

Something More (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 1: INTO THE STARS

Rated: Explicit (not this chapter, but future chapters will be)

Warnings: light descriptions of violence

Summary: Meeting the Mandalorian was like colliding into the rest of your life at a moment’s notice. Like oh, there you are. It was both jarring and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a minute with no intentions and stepping out of it in deja-vu. You had always been told you made too much out of everything, that you blew up every circumstance to fit some kind of grand destiny, some huge significance. If anyone asked, you’d swear up and down this was different. It was different. The Mandalorian sweeping you off your feet and out of your back alley haunts and narrow escapes was something kismet. Something cosmic. Something more.

Or, a slow burn love story across the stars featuring you, Din, and your little green baby. With love, angst, lust, and everything in between following you across the galaxy.*this deviates from canon for the most part, the plot begins at the very end of season 1 and will deviate for about half of season 2! there is LOTS planned for this (i already have 19k words written & will be posting regularly) so i hope you all enjoy!! <3 muah*

this is 1000000% completely inspired by the incredible behemoth SUPREME Mandalorian fic Rough Day by our lord & savior @no-droids but it will have its entire own plot & more of a slowburn in both love & smut, specifically for suffering long haul romance lovers like myself!

i already have 19k words written & will be ATTEMPTING to post updates regularly (and if i get excited about getting new chapters up, they might come early. i'm gonna try to post Saturday evenings every week, extenuating circumstances notwithstanding <3

hope you enjoy!!! more to come VERY SOON!!!

Meeting the Mandalorian was like colliding into the rest of your life at a moment’s notice. Like oh, there you are. It was both jarring and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a minute with no intentions and stepping out of it in deja-vu. You had always been told you made too much out of everything, that you blew up every circumstance to fit some kind of grand destiny, some huge significance. If anyone asked, you’d swear up and down this was different. It was different. The Mandalorian sweeping you off your feet and out of your back alley haunts and narrow escapes was something kismet. Something cosmic. Something more.

You met him on Nevarro. You weren’t even supposed to be there. You were supposed to be back in the Mid Rim by that point, long gone from your last mission gone sour. Your ship had broken down and you narrowly escaped a crash landing, and you’d hiked for hours through the unyielding lava fields for the closest town, with nothing but a handful of credits and the clothes on your back. Somehow, miraculously, you were able to grab the last of your water and your mother’s necklace from where it was hanging on the dashboard before the magma had bubbled up and claimed the better half of the old X-wing before you could go back in for more.

“Dank ferrik,” you seethed, and the curse felt alien under your tongue. There was no one out here to hear it but yourself, the lava, and the sulfuric air, anyways, so you grumbled out a few more before the ship fully sank into the magma in front of you.

The ship itself wasn’t a big loss—you’d only gotten it because it was the cheapest after you lost your own to that smuggler, but being stranded on a planet that was so aggressive towards any sort of survival wasn’t the best circumstance in the galaxy. But here you were, stuck, unmoored, anchorless, on a planet not known for anything except its rivers of lava and a bounty hunters’ guild you’d heard about and tried your best to stay away from. That town was the only landmark you had, though, so you begrudgingly trekked across Nevarro’s molten surface in search for any form of civilization.

The sky had started to slip off into darkness, and the small flecks of the other Outer Rim planets glistened lightyears away from where you were hiking when you stumbled over something and nearly fell into what you assumed was a dormant vat of lava. It was only when you scrambled away from the hot pocket of ground that you realized it was a stormtrooper helmet. A stormtrooper helmet with a head still in it. You gasped and skittered away, pushing off the heels of your hands to get upward as fast as you can, not even registering the heat eating through the skin of your palms. You didn’t have a weapon—the old blaster you’d carried for the last few years had been eaten up with the X-Wing—and as your eyes adjusted to a collection of white armor and bodies on the ground, you kicked yourself from not prioritizing the gun over getting out unscathed.

You didn’t scare easy. You grew up on a slowly abandoned Rebel base back on Yavin, and even after your parents’ deaths, you were surrounded by a legion of people who took care of you and taught you how to fight. Really, you were good at getting out of sticky situations that looked too dire to survive—take the crash landing an hour back for example—but you had a giant blind spot of earnestness to believe the people you went into business with were being sincere. That’s how the ship had crashed in the first place, you exchanged a repair of your original starship with providing Alderaanian liquor to a smuggler and his droid back on Dantooine who had both cut and run with it before fully repairing the vitally broken control panel. It was a rookie mistake, which you definitely weren’t, but he had just seemed so earnest in his need for the alcohol, and your fatal flaw was that you always trusted people who needed help. Even to your own detriment.

It had been your downfall back home, and at least twice when you were adventuring through the Outer Rim, and when you narrowly escaped a Deveronian when you had first started out on your own, because you were too close to a scumbag in friend’s clothing who fumbled the bag and left you for dead. He even stole your ship, then, and you had to make a series of sordid deals to get off Polis Massa, let alone find a place where you could crash safely for weeks before you could work up enough credits to get the X-Wing, which was, quite ceremoniously, dead now.

You shivered with the realization that you might be in danger, too. There were so many bodies scattered across this ridge and the next, and a handful of crashed TIE fighters. The sight of them didn’t strike fear into you—they never really had, you were raised in the Alliance and you could outfly the Empire since you were six years old—but they made you feel uneasy. Nevarro didn’t have a Rebel base, and you had never met someone in the Alliance who was from the planet. With the obvious show of Imperial affiliation and the bounty hunters’ guild, Nevarro was seedy enough that it kept you on edge as you walked, hopefully towards a town with people who didn’t want anything more from you than an easy job.

It must have been near dawn when you finally made it to the edge of the town. It was at best shot to all hell and at worst absolutely obliterated. Your heart sank. There were more dead suits of white armor scattered across the dirt and sand. There were helmets on pikes that looked far too fresh. Your hand twitched near your thigh where your blaster was usually strapped. All of this was a bad idea. You shouldn’t have left the blaster in the ship. If you were really playing the game of regrets, though, you never should have helped the smuggler. You should have paid the fifteen more credits to get the X-Wing fixed on Tatooine instead. You should have stayed on Yavin after your parents died and shouldn’t have been so earnest to make it on your own and—

“Hey.” The voice came from behind you, and you whipped around so fast your hair fell from where the clasp had been hanging on to nothing but a prayer since your crash landing. You shook it away from your face, eyes squinted at the figure that seemed to materialize behind you. “Where are you from, pretty thing?”

“Coruscant,” you lied through your teeth. The name of the planet you’ve been trying to avoid for years burns a hole through your belly.

“You don’t belong in a place like this.” He stepped into the light, and he wasn’t human. You didn’t know what he was, exactly, but his tone made your skin crawl. You held your ground.

“You’re right. I don’t. I’m looking for a mechanic.”

“I’m a mechanic.” Like hell he was. You clenched your jaw, trying to look menacing. The grease and sweat from the hike there was smeared on your face, your pants had gotten ripped while climbing out of the crash. You didn’t like how his eyes fixated hungrily on the flesh of your exposed thigh, and you had to shake the thought away while you walked into a voice much more brazen than your own.

“Do you know how to fix an X-Wing?” You stepped forward, and the Rebel insignia on your necklace glinted in the low light. Around these parts, after the fall of the Empire, you’ve heard Rebels strike fear into the local folk. Suddenly, the guy took a step backward, and you reveled in your menace for a split second before you realized someone was standing behind you.

He didn’t speak again before he took off. You stuttered, the sudden appearance of the figure behind you catching in your chest, and it rose to a cut off yelp when a red blast knocked the one who had hit on you off his feet, spiraling over a stormtrooper body, falling to the rocky floor. Dead. He was dead. You spun, praying that your heart hammering in your chest was just leftover adrenaline and not a signifier of a new threat.

Standing behind you, outfitted entirely in silver reflective armor, was a Mandalorian. “Nevarro doesn’t have mechanics.”

You squinted. You were completely taken aback by his presence, his hulking realness, but suddenly his statement overpowered your revelry. “I find that hard to believe.”

“That X-Wing crashed out there is yours.” It isn’t a question. His voice is deep, a baritone that spreads warmth even blocked by the modulator in his helmet. You’d only heard of Mandalorians in stories, legends, around the campfires growing up. You didn’t expect one to ever materialize in anything other than myth, let alone stand in front of you, electric.

You nod. Did he follow you all the way to town?

“You aren’t looking for a mechanic.” His voice is so sure, so big. Your world spins on its axis, the feeling foreign and familiar all at once. He had spoken three sentences to you, and already, you felt that dizzy, magnetic pull that you tried to convince yourself was there much more often than it was.

“I…” You trail off, staring up at his visor. He seems larger than life, much larger than you, at least, and for some reason, the hugeness is cutting off all of your words before they can fully form. “No. I need a way off this planet, though.”

“Can you fly?”

You balk at his question, annoyed—obviously, you could fly—and then remember the only track record you have in the Mandalorian’s eyes is your ship, crash landed and then immediately swallowed by lava. “I’m a pilot. A runner. I’ve been flying since I was six years old.”

He takes a minute, completely silent. The noise of the scattered stormtrooper bodies around you suddenly seems deafening. You aren’t scared of him. You think. Your heart is still hammering, but it’s nothing like the fear that rushed through you when the alien talked to you a few minutes ago. It’s different—not adrenaline, exactly, and not fear. You place the feeling when it washes over you again, warm and unexpected—Excitement.

“Okay.” He moves, and you startle. You didn’t realize the conversation was over.

“Uh,” you stammer, “Do you… do you need a pilot?”

“No,” he says, over his shoulder. His strides are long. You step forward, almost pulled after him, then stuttered to a stop. “But I might be your only ride out of here.”

“Oh,” you manage, and then follow him. The dim light spreads over the horizon as you walk, stunned into silence by his own, trying to mimic his step, his quiet. It doesn’t happen. You’re clunking along beside him, the noise made even louder by the silence in his gait. “I’m not picky, where we go, you know—I was heading away from the Outer Rim, so I’m in no rush to get back there, but—I mean, I’m thankful that you’re taking me anywhere—”

“I can’t pay you. But you don’t have to pay me, either.”

You blink, feet stuttering to a near stop, buffering before you remember to keep following him. “I’m sorry?”

“You can fly, right?”

You blink, eyes darting up to the back of his helmet. It might just be the modulator, but there’s no air in his voice, no struggle to cross the hard, hot terrain. It’s impressive. “I can, but you thought you didn’t need a pilot—?”

“You were a rebel.” His voice is curt. Quick.

Your eyebrows furrow, looking down at the insignia on your necklace and then back up at him. There’s a dry breeze over the molten moors, and his cape catches in the wind. It flutters. It’s the first sign of something gentle about him. It’s the memory you take with you for months later, savoring it for when he’s leaving you on the ship while he goes and catches his bounties, one by one. You cling to it in the long lapses of time where he doesn’t offer you anything but silence. You’ll hold onto it, a butterfly of a memory, for weeks—until he offers you something softer, something warmer. Something real.

You don’t know that in the moment, though. Right now, he’s asked a question, and you’re struggling to answer it honestly. “I was.”

“You don’t scare easily.”

It’s like he’s putting together these impossible puzzle pieces of your life. How is he guessing this? He’s known you for maybe ten whole minutes. It swells in your chest, a thunderbird of a thing, and you don’t know why.

“I’d like to think so,” you manage, as he tilts his helmet back to search you for your answer. Your breath hitches in your throat at the thought of his eyes on you, and you wonder what color they are. Maker. Where did that come from?

“Good.”

A ship seems to materialize out of nowhere, but it seems more likely that you were so caught up in the mystery of the Mandalorian and keeping your gaze locked on him that his ship was in the periphery of your vision. You follow him, still confused, up the descended gangplank. Sitting in the middle of the ship is a tiny green baby, with eyes ten times the size of its nose, with peach fuzz lazily dusting the top of its head. It’s holding a tiny silver ball in its three-fingered hands, looking up at the Mandalorian with outstretched arms.

You watch, in stunned silence, as the giant hulking silver figure crouches down to pick up the baby, meeting its little coos with soft words right back. It’s as soft as his cape fluttering in the wind, an unexpected, fleeting feeling of warmth. You don’t know what to do with yourself. The warm breeze buffets the small of your back, ruffles your loose hair. You just stand there, entirely enamored with this tiny green baby in the Mandalorian’s arms, speechless.

“You don’t scare easily,” the Mandalorian repeats.

You shake your head. “Nope.”

He holds the baby up to you. “How about now?”

You blink, confused. “Am I supposed to be scared of it?”

“Him.”

You take a tentative step forward, gaze flickering between the two of them, wondering what would have happened if you had crash landed literally anywhere else, at literally any other time. Something big and ceremonious swells somewhere deep in your chest.

“I’m not scared,” you finally say, and when your eyes find his visor again, you hope he knows you mean you’re not scared of either of them. You could be—most people with common sense are struck with fear at the sight of meeting a Mandalorian, especially one associated with such a widespread bounty hunters’ guild—but fear just keeps getting pushed away as the seconds pass. A small voice in the back of your head whispers that this is another mistake of being too trustful, but the larger half of you knows how to handle yourself if you find trouble. Besides, he has a tiny alien kid, and something tells you the Mandalorian wouldn’t put the baby in a situation that he deemed unsafe. As the door zips shut behind you, you step forward into the ship—into the place you’ll eventually make your home—heart still hammering on and on, thrumming as the three of you lift off of Nevarro’s surface and into the stars.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars #fanfiction #i hope y'all enjoy!!!!!#something more

394 notes · View notes

weaselbrownie · 4 years ago

Text

forever | d.m

draco malfoy x slytherin!reader

summary : in sixth year draco started to drift away from her leaving her in the dark, until one night when she decides that enough is enough and tries to find out what’s going on in him, leading in her finding his dark mark

warnings : Mentions of blood, swearing, angst, emotional roller coaster draco

word count : 5k

Two weeks

It has been two weeks since you've had a proper conversation with Draco. You were quite confused why he was ignoring you. Sure you both aren't in a relationship, but you've always been close. You've always had a specific relationship with Draco, maybe even kissed a few times but nothing's official. All you know was that you were his and he was yours, it has always been and it will always be.

When Draco broke his arm in the second year. When you tripped down the staircase in the third year. When he got in a big argument with his dad in the fourth year. When there was a nasty rumor going around about you in the fifth year.

It was always the two of you against the world.

Well– at least it was until now, the sixth year, the year where Draco started to drift away from you. You have tried so hard to pull him aside and talk but he won't budge, always in a hurry to go somewhere or do something. You were about to give up before you saw him, he was leaving the room of requirement and into the abandoned boy's lavatory in the west wing.

From the moment he caught your eye you followed him. Sprinting behind him as the soft wind blow on your face. Draco was walking at quite a fast pace, entering the lavatory he shut the door with a loud bang just as you were about to reach for him.

Fortunately, he didn't lock it so you could slip in easily. Tiptoeing towards the middle of the cold room your skin littered in goosebumps, not knowing what to expect. You have never been here before so the outline of the room was unfamiliar. You made your way to the end of the room to see Draco scrunched up in the corner of the room by a large panel window, overlooking the dark horizon. He hugged his knees before dropping his head in the middle of it.

He was still, he didn't even look like he was breathing. You moved away from the middle of the hall and to the back of a bathroom stall to hide your body. Moments later Draco finally picked up his head again and fixed his position to sit crisis cross in front of the large window. His head tilted up to watch the stars, it was bright tonight. The dark sky littered with millions of shining stars. The full moon adding to the beauty, the soft light reflected onto Draco's pale skin making him glow.

Slowly you peaked out from behind the stall to walk towards him. He didn't recognize your presence at all, seeing as his focus still laid on the sky above him.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" You softly said looking down at Draco and then up to the sky.

Draco let out a surprised gasp before turning around to look up at you. His gaze stuck to you as he didn't move a muscle, he just sat there, bright silver eyes wide open piercing into yours. You took your vision off of the sky and into Draco below you. You let out a small smile before walking a few steps towards him again.

"Can I sit?" You chuckled again seeing as you will be doing most of the talking tonight.

Much to your dismay, Draco didn't reply but rather just nodded before turning around to look out the window again. You settled next to the boy and brought your knees up to your chest before wrapping yourself in your robe. Even though it's late you both still sat in your uniform considering you both had extra classes today.

You smiled to yourself before turning to face Draco. His face was soft and relaxed, you could tell he's been stressed lately and this was calming him down. His eyes fixed staring at one of the constellations in the sky. You followed his gaze that landed on a familiar star.

"That's Draco right?" You whispered to him while looking at the sky.

He seems to be taken back considering he broke the eye contact with the star to look at you. He crooked his head to the side before opening his mouth to let out a few soft words.

"How do you know that?"He genuinely asked, confused on how you managed to remember one of the many stars in the sky.

You let out a soft chuckle before turning to face Draco who's already looking at you with big shining eyes. "I listen you know" You smiled at the boy in front of you.

What you said was true, Draco is known to drone on and on about the topics he's passionate about, one of them being constellations. The two of you have been sneaking off to the astronomy tower since the second year. When the sky was bright and you could see the stars, he wouldn't hesitate to start talking about them. About how he got Draco as his name or how his extended family's name is all made up of all the constellations in the sky. At times you would even fall asleep on him whilst he talks about the stars, he thinks you don't listen but you do, when have you not listened to Draco.

"All those times we snuck up the tower?" He asked with a soft smile dancing on the corner of his lips.

You returned the smile and nodded. "I've always loved it when you talk about the stars" you softly started looking into his eyes. "Or when you find a new book in the library– and you read it to me" You chuckled at every memory of Draco excitedly reading to you.

Draco's mouth hung open for a few moments letting your words sink in before turning it into a smile. It was a genuine smile, a smile he hadn't shown anyone in the past two weeks. You felt a little better, even just seeing his smile. He was silent but you could read his eyes, how they sparkle in the dark telling you that he was glad you're there. You snuck your hand on top of his and he gladly took them, flipping his palm over to close his big hand around your small one.

His smile didn't last long, as Draco unexpectedly launched himself at you, bringing you into a soul-crushing hug. He didn't have to say anything and you knew he needed this, so you hugged him back, snaking your arms around his torso and letting your head rest on his shoulder.

The two of you stayed like that for a while before he pulled away and moved to lean against one of the big pillars by the window. You watched as she scattered on the floor searching for the perfect spot and position. You kept your eyes on him, watching as the front of his white hair fall against his forehead. Not long after he finally settled down and parted his legs before extending it and patting the space in front of him, motioning for you to sit in between his legs.

You smiled before gathering yourself to crawl over to his arms. You set yourself in front of him, your back connected to his chest. You leaned back getting comfortable in his embrace as you looked over to the right to take in the dark scenery. His arms snaked to your torso keeping you close to him before you felt his chin on your shoulder, huffing out a loud sigh.

It was moments like these that you cherish most. Moments where you and Draco are most vulnerable in private. Nobody has seen either of you like this, the both of you have such strict reputations. To the world, the two of you were the great big scary Draco Malfoy and Y/N Y/L/N, the two cold Slytherins, the two most heartless students in all of Hogwarts.

But to the two of you– you're just Y/N, and he is just Draco. You're just kids who’re trying to have fun and pass school. You're just people who want to make it in the real world. You're just two lost souls who need one another to keep going.

So deep in your thoughts, you didn't even notice Draco calling your name. You blinked a few times before leaning your head against his, slightly shifting towards him.

"Yes Draco?" you cooed to the boy behind you.

"Thank you.." He mumbled slowly into your shoulder before a smile formed his lips.

You chuckled again before turning your head to give him a peck on the side of his hairline. You fixed your position and sunk on the floor even more and leaned back on him. He picked his head up from your shoulder and leaned back to the cold marble pillar, tightening his grip on your torso.

You smiled to yourself before putting your hands over his to trace his fingers. Whilst playing with his hands one of your fingers traced a bit too far up into his sleeves and you felt something that wasn't supposed to be there.

The skin on the inside of his left wrist felt different, it wasn't smooth like the rest of him. It was as if someone was harshly scratching on the delicate skin. His grip was strong and so you couldn't see what your fingers felt just seconds ago.

You start to worry, overthinking in your head. Is this part of the reason Draco has been so distant? What has he been doing? There was nothing more you want to do than just turn around and ask him but right now it wasn't an option. Draco has been avoiding you for weeks and if you ask a sensitive subject now he might just run out of your life forever. Pushing all the bizarre thoughts out of your head you decided to drop it and ask another time.

So instead of confronting him, you let go of his left wrist and just placed your hands on his forearms. Snuggling deeper into Draco you find yourself drifting. The cool atmosphere of the bathroom and the dimly lit room not helping you fight the urge to fall asleep. So with the last of energy you have, you push yourself up and turned around to find Draco asleep.

You smiled softly at him before caressing his cheeks and whispered his name to wake him. Draco's eyes flutter and he readjusted his position. Draco sat upright and held your hips, silently asking if everything was alright.

"We need to head back" You whispered to him with your hands still on his cheek.

He simply nodded before stretching his neck and getting up. You turned around still on your knees before bending down and picking up your bookbag. Standing up with ease you turned around once more to see Draco looking down at you. You smiled at him before you start to head for the door. You could barely get 5 steps in before Draco came next to you and took your book bag from your shoulder and slinging it onto his shoulder instead. You stopped in your tracks and looked up at him, however, Draco didn't stop. He kept walking at a slow pace until he reached the door.

"Well.. come on now," Draco said looking back at you while extending his hand in your direction.

You were surprised yes, but that didn't stop you from blushing before jogging up to meet him. You took his hand and the both of you started to wall down the dark hallway hand in hand.

After that night Draco has made more of an effort to spend time with you, he didn't run off after class like he used to, he even sat down every meal with you. Things were starting to get back to normal, but not quite yet. Every night after dinner Draco always has an excuse, Snape needs him or the prefects’ duties, but you knew he was lying but you didn't want to push your luck– until tonight.

You decided you've had enough of being kept in the dark and decided to confront him. You were about to do it after dinner but per usual he's already gone, running into the dark spots of Hogwarts. Slightly annoyed you decided it'll be best if you just wait for him in his dorm.

After Dumbledore dismissed everyone you practically sprint down to the dungeons and into the cold green common room, rushing up the stairs you went into the boy's section, thank Merlin for Draco's private prefect dorm. You opened the door and slowly crept in. His dorm was a little chilly, his books neatly stacked on his desk and his bed nicely made.

You shrugged off your robe and placed it on his chair before coming to sit on his soft bed. You took a seat on the edge of the bed and took in the scenery of his dorm before collapsing backward and taking a pillow to snuggle.

Draco left you waiting for around 15 minutes before coming back. The hood of your eyes started to get heavy as it flutters. Before you could completely close your eyes the door burst open revealing a flushed Draco. Your body jolted up in surprise, and you quickly stood in panic. Once you saw who it was you let yourself sit on the edge of the bed again.

"What are you doing here?" Draco blurted out in a not-so-welcoming tone.

"I was waiting for you," You said slowly as you stood up from the bed.

Draco eyed you up and down, your hair was slightly messy and your uniform was all halfway done. The top button of your shirt undone and your tie loose, your jumper raised to your hips and your skirt hitched a little higher than usual.

"Now isn't a good time love" Was all Draco said before turning around to shrug off his robe and placed it on top of yours.

You fixed yourself a little, pulling your jumper and skirt down before walking a few steps towards him. "Draco–" You started in a slight whisper tone.

"Go back to your dorm, it's late and I'm tired," He said sternly.

"Dray please–"

"I said I'm tired Y/L/N!" He hissed at you, turning around completely to face you.

You flinched backward at his action, Draco was many things but being aggressive with you wasn't one of them. You weren't scared, Draco would never in a million years hurt you, but you were rather surprised.

"Draco please, I'm trying to fix something here!" You talked back to him showing him that you weren't going to back down.

Draco only scoffed and rolled his eyes before taking his book bag that sat on the floor and swung it onto his shoulder. Walking past you and into the side of his bed where a large cabinet sat. You stood there, your eyes wide at his reaction.

"Can you not be an arse for once Draco!" You turned around and shouted at him which caused him to freeze while putting his books away.

Draco put the book he was holding on the floor before letting out a dark chuckle and smirked slightly. He picked up his head to look at you. Your face was red from rage and your arms crossed in front of you. Draco's jaw tensed and he backed away from the cabinet to stand straight. He mimics your posture, crossing both arms in front of his chest before slowly walking towards you.

"I wasn't the one to break into someone else's dorm– just to annoy them with stupid questions– when clearly the other person is too tired to speak!" Draco practically growled at you, his eyes darkening and his smirk dropping.

"Well forgive me for caring about you" You hissed back at the blond boy standing in front of you.

"Oh cut the bullshit Y/L/N! I don't need you sticking your head somewhere it doesn't belong" Draco spat at you, walking closer than before.

You groaned again in annoyance as you threw your hands up in the air, shuffling around in the spot where you stood. "You always do this Draco... Always!" You whispered the last part. "I just want to help you–" your sentence was cut short by Draco's loud groan.

"Piss off Y/N! I don't need your help with anything, I'm capable thankyou very much" Draco hissed in a sarcastic tone at you.

"What the fuck is your problem, I'm right here to offer you my hand and you're still pushing me away!" You shouted at him, tears on the verge of your eyes threatening to fall any second now.

"Well I don't need it– So just leave, I know you want to!" He shouted back at you, taking more steps forward closer to your shaking figure.

You were tired, your body aches from a long day of school and all you wanted to do was snuggle deep in Draco's warm embrace but here you were, screaming and snapping at each other. As Draco got closer you could see the smallest amount of tear on the corner of his eyes, he was tired just like you were. You pulled yourself together, if you give up now there might not be another chance.

"Just go– I don't need you here Y/N..." He said sternly, trying to hold back something big.

Your jaw tensed at his words and your mouth curled to the tiniest pout before you let a single tear roll down your face. You took a deep breath and shook your head a little. Your gaze dropped to your shoes as you were debating with yourself on what to do next. You decide that maybe it's time for a different approach. Trying to get him to talk clearly wasn't helping in any way.

With your heart on the tips of your fingers, your hand reached up to hold his. His eyes stayed on you, burning a hole into your skull if possible. Your body jolts in electricity as the tip of your warm fingers touched his. Draco didn't move a muscle, he didn't even close his hand around yours like he usually would.

Not giving up you stepped a little closer to Draco while your hand trailed up his forearm. Before you could move your hand even higher you touched the spot again. The spot you touched on the inside of his wrist many nights ago in the abandoned bathroom. Except for this time, it was a different texture, it wasn't just rough and dry it was damp. In panic, you tore your hand away from Draco and lifted it to your face. Your eyes widen in horror as you came face to face with blood.

Your middle finger was stained with bits of dry blood, you gasped as did Draco. Before you could do anything he started to shuffle backward, you froze in place trying to process what just happened.

"Dray–" You started softly just to get cut off once more.

"I told you to leave Y/N– So leave!" Draco started to panic even more than you did.

You shook your head again before tearing your eyes away from your fingers to look at Draco. He was starting to really panic. His chest was heaving up and down ad he stumbles while walking backward. His eyes were blank as he shook his head. Draco brought his hands up to loosened the tie around his neck as it was suffocating him.

You started to move towards Draco, placing your hands in front of you to try to calm him down. That's when Draco broke. All the tears he tried hard to conceal burst down his face, his breath started to get uneven, you didn't know what to do so you watched him as he slowly broke down.

Your heart aches just looking at him, Draco Malfoy, the boy you've loved for years on end. Draco fell back onto his bed and buried his head on the palms of his hands. Another tear escaped your eyes as you try to get closer to him. You placed a hand on his shoulder squeezing it reassuringly. He didn't look up or moved from his previous position, he just continued to sob into his hands.

You took a seat next to him before placing the hand that was on his shoulder onto his cheek. Draco finally looked up to see your tear-stained face, he sniffled a little before completely throwing himself on you. His actions took you by surprise but you hugged him tightly back, rubbing his back you whispered sweet nothings into his ear that seems to calm him down a little.

"Y/N you need to leave..." Draco mumbled into your shoulder, breaking the silence.

"Wha– No!" You said a little louder than he did as your eyes widened in surprise

"I'm not going anywhere Draco– We'll get through this, w-whatever this is– I'm not gonna leav–" You were cut off by Draco once more when he tore away from your arms to stand up.

"You don't get it Y/N! I'm dangerous–I could hurt you!" He shouted in frustration as his hand flew up to his blond locks

"Draco what could you possibly do to hurt me?" You stood up in front of him, confused about why he wants you to leave so badly.

Draco shuffled around for a little, groaning in frustration every once in a while before streaming down tears on his face again. You didn't know what to do so you stayed in your spot, hugging your figure as you watched the boy in front of you.

"Draco I'm sure it isn’t that bad– We can figure something out and then w–"

"I’m a death eater!" Draco shouted at you, shutting you up.

As if all the love in the world was sucked, you stood staring at the figure in front of you. Your eyes widened at the realization of what Draco just said. You couldn't bring yourself to give a big reaction, you silently stood back let your tears out.

"N-no.." You chocked out still not moving from your previous state.

"Yes Y/N, I can't protect you anymore you have to leave!" Draco murmured, looking down onto the floor in shame.

"No– Y-you can’t possibly be a death eater–" You said to him shaking your head in disbelief.

"And why not Y/N? My dad's a death eater my whole family are death eaters! I was next in line and it was time–" Draco started as he stutters his words towards the shaking girl in front of him.

"Trust me when I said I would change the past if I could, but truth is I can't! Y/N I cant!" His words got louder as the frustration is getting to him.

"Every day I look on my arm and I see the mark of death, I am marked for death! And I tried to protect you for so long but I can only do so much Y/N– I've lost everything in my life and I can’t lose you too" Draco spat out, choking on his own tears and pain.

"Dray–" You said, standing still in front of him hugging yourself as you watch him get all his pain and anger out.

Before you could get another word out Draco aggressively rolled up his sleeve revealing his dark mark– surrounded by red scratches. You gasped as your hand flew to your mouth covering it. "Look what they did to me!" Draco shouted as more tears run down his pale face.

"Oh Draco.." You murmured as you start to walk towards him. When you were just a few feet in front of him you extended your hand out to take his one. You grasped his hand in yours softly before lifting it higher. Your eyes scan his arm, every detail of the dark mark, every end of scar from his scratches.

You finally let go of his arm and your hand snaked up to hold his face. His tears seemed to have stopped but each drop was strained on his face. You tore your gaze away from his arms and focused on him. Looking up you could see his bright eyes peaked from his heavy lids and thick lashes.

Draco seems to notice how you're memorizing every detail on his face, he looked into your eyes before looking into your lips and back at your eyes. You noticed his little glance and decided to just go for it.

Without moving too much you closed the space between the two of you. Your lips pecked his slightly chapped one before cupping his face with your other hand that previously sat on his arm. Draco stayed still for a moment before returning your kiss with even more passion. You were getting dizzy as if all the crying wasn't already enough to knock you out, you were breathing hard against Draco. His arms snaked to your hips as he deepened the kiss a little. After what seems like an eternity you pulled away and wiped his wet face with your thumbs.

"You really thought I was going to walk away from you?" You softly asked, breaking the heavy silence that sat in the dim room.

Draco didn't answer you but rather just nodded in shame. "Can I ask a question?" You said again looking into his face. Draco looked back up at you and silently nodded again. "Why did you scratch it?" You murmured at the boy in front of you.

"It's stupid, but sometimes it hurts so much that I thought it would just come off if I scratch it deep enough..." Draco said slowly as his jaw tightens.

Your heart breaks at his answer, all this time Draco has been going through all of this alone in fear that you would run away. All this time you could've helped prevent him from hurting himself but you didn't. You cursed yourself for not asking sooner. You nodded when he finished his statement and hugged him. Your arms making way to the back of his neck as you rested your head on his shoulder, Draco holding on to you tighter in fear you might just disappear if he didn't.

You lead him away from the spot where you stood and towards his connecting bathroom, stopping at his dresser to take out a jumper and some random sweatpants. You entered the cold bathroom and goosebumps started to form on your skin. Slowly you backed him up against the sink countertop as he leaned on the edge.

"You need to change," You said softly to the boy in front of you.

"Can you help?" Draco said as he placed a hand onto your arm when you were just about to leave the bathroom.

You smiled up to the boy before nodding. You brushed a fallen hair behind your ear before placing your hands on the bottom of his jumper. Slowly you lifted the piece of clothing as Draco held his arm up. When you got the jumper off you started to work your hands on his tie, he kept his eyes on you the whole time. Just when you got his tie off he came down and attacked your lips with his again. You slowly kissed him back as if you've been together forever. Your hands continue to undo the buttons on his shirt, and when you got to the bottom you pulled away from his lips just to reattach them on his collarbone, spreading little kisses on his cold skin. You tugged his shirt off before you moved down your lips to his chest, after discarding him of his shirt you pulled away and place your lips on his once more before completely pulling away to get the fresh jumper sitting on the counter.

Before you placed the jumper on him you reached for your wand and held up his wrist. You looked up at him silently asking if he was okay and he gave you a nod of confirmation for you to clean his scratched arm. You quickly whispered a spell that cleaned his arms and wrapped them in a bandage. You placed your wand back onto the counter as you brought his wrist up to your lips giving it a quick peck.

You took the jumper and continued to dress him, doing the same with his pants before changing yourself too. You went over to the sink and splashed some water on your face as Draco copied your actions.

After the two of you got comfortable you lead him out of the bathroom and back into his room. You continued to lead him to the bed and opened the covers to get him in the warm embrace of his bed. You tucked him in, bringing the covers up to his chest and kissing the top of his head before you started to walk away. Draco grabbed your hand keeping you in place just when you turned around.

"Stay.." He softly said looking up at your figure.

You turned around and smiled at him before coming to the other side of the bed and got under the covers with him. You shuffled in under the covers to get closer to Draco as he did the same. You laid your arms out for Draco to crawl in and that's exactly what he did. The scent of citrus and mint wash over you as he snuggled closer to you, resting his head on the crook of your neck. His arms snaked onto your hips and his legs tangled themselves with yours. You closed your arms around his shoulder to keep him close and kissed the top of his head before playing with the ends of his hair.

"I'm not going anywhere Dray" You murmured into his hair as you felt him shift a little under you and fasten his arms on your hips.

"Yeah?.." He replied softly not moving from his position.

"Everything that's gonna happen after this, I'll be here, I'll always be here" You smiled into his hair as you make a promise you know you will never break.

"Forever?.." Draco asked as he snuggled deeper into you.

"Forever"

#draco #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #harry potter #harry potter imagine #draco x y/n

313 notes · View notes

meat--grindr · 4 years ago

Note

I can request a story of Yandere Brahms with his reader, where Brahms kidnaps the reader by taking her inside the walls of the Mansion to be loved and protected. How did you come to this situation, maybe you can have a little NFSW?

Ahh, Brahms. How I love him so. I just wanted to let you know before we get into anything too serious, that this might be a little different than you were expecting, and for that I’m going to apologize right off the bat. I’ll admit I’m a massive weeb, but I never really saw the appeal of yanderes. Cringe, I know. So, I’m going to do my best here and take yandere more as ‘possessive’ if that’s alright? Also, I took some liberties with ‘kidnapping’ as you’ll see, just because I don’t want to walk too far into non-consensual territory when there’s NSFW involved. I don’t want to write anything explicitly non-consensual here, so it was a fine line to walk, but I think I found an okay solution. If this isn’t at all what you’re looking for, maybe drop me a PM and we can try to work something out? Anyway have like 5000-ish words of Brahms smut :)

Possessive (Yandere [?] Brahms (Female Reader) – NSFW

· Standing at the foot of the stairs, you are struck, though certainly not for the first time, by the beauty of the house in which you find yourself. The golden hue of the wood which panels the walls reflect and amplify the soft glow emanating from beneath frosted glass lampshades. The diffused amber glow is cast about the room, throwing elongated shadows against the walls and into the far corners. From your place at the very bottom of the stairwell, the ceiling, now several floors above you, is lost to the early darkness of a winter evening.

· Through the window, you can see the first soft flakes of snow drifting through the air. But here, inside, with your back braced against the newel post, you are warm. Tipping your head back, you gaze up into the yawning void above and cast your mind into it, losing yourself in daydreams of the beautiful rooms it conceals; your bedroom with its fourposter bed, all draped in velvet and silk—the dark, lacquered wood of the study, which still smells of cigar smoke, though as far as you can tell one hasn’t been lit in there for years—and, of course, the library.

· Dark shelves line the walls, so tall they stretch from the wooden floor to the moulded ceiling. They stand, filled nearly past capacity with volumes of every shape and size, from encyclopedias so large you can lift only one at a time, to pocket novellas no bigger than your palm. Pages and spines alike, embossed with gold and silver shimmer from both the shelves and the tables set beside each of the overstuffed armchairs. The plush rug which lies beneath those tables and chairs makes even the floor a comfortable place to stretch out and lose oneself in a book. And the smell. Old leather and paper, printing ink and glue, dust and the very passage of time itself. It’s like every crooked old bookstore you’ve ever entered tucked away in a cozy corner of your own home. Whether or not you remember having dreamt of owning a private library, you were quite sure you could never go back to life without one and find yourself contented.

· Even now, you long to curl up in one of those plush chairs and sink into another world until bedtime. You knew a soft blanket and a half-finished novel waited for you there, begging you to come back and see to them. And why shouldn’t you? What else was there to do on a chilly night such as this? The day’s chores were completed—the rat traps were checked (empty as always), the laundry was done, wood for the fire was stacked in the shed, and the supper dishes had been washed and put away. There is very little else that requires your attention. So why not?

· Your socked feet sink into the plush, green carpeting as you mount the stairs. The banister is pleasantly cool and smooth beneath your fingertips. As you ascend, the light from below begins to dim, unable to reach any further into the darkness above. The difference made by the two flights of stairs between the lighted foyer and the dark second floor leaves you light-blinded and blinking in the shadows.

· When again you regain your sight enough to behold it, even in partial darkness, the hallway that stretches before you is beautiful—the wooden paneling on the lower half of the walls takes on a sleek shine, while the deep green wallpaper above it fades into a stately and sober black. The paintings and portraits that line the walls are somber; muted without the proper lighting to show their colours, but they are no less impressive or imposing. A ship, barely visible, save for the canvas sails, is tossed on a rapidly darkening sea, lighting flashing far in the distance—a bright brushstroke of pure white, clear even in deep shadow. An old woman, her name rendered illegible in the gloom, stares down her nose at you in deep disapproval. Her eyes, like the rest of her, are severe and grey, and they seem, through either a trick of the light or the mastery of the painter, to follow you down the hall.

· It is very dark. A thin, watery light filters through a small window at the end of the hall, but it does little to help guide you. You suppose you could turn on one of the many lamps that line the long and ponderous hall, but you know you can find your way just find without one. You’d spent several adventurous afternoons and many restless nights exploring the house and grounds. Though in the beginning you could barely follow the straight hall from the front door to the kitchen without getting lost, these days, you rarely, if ever, found yourself wandering the halls with no idea where you were.

· You reach out, brushing the wallpaper with the tips of your fingers as you walk, grounding yourself in the darkness. It’s almost rough to the touch, stiff with age, though it’s clearly been well taken care of. In the daylight, there is little sign of aging at all - no scuffs or faded sections. You knew the house itself was well over a hundred years old, but it showed its age in astonishingly few places. Sure, the phones were ancient and the lack of wi-fi was irritating but—

· Thump.

· You freeze in place. You’re sure the sound had come from within the wall, just to the left of where you stood. There is something in there. The blood roars in your ear as you press it up against the wallpaper, straining to hear even a hint of movement, be it the shifting of the wood as the house settles, or the pitter-patter of something living. The seconds stretch on into minutes, but no further sounds come. You scrunch up your nose, feeling rather silly. It’s probably just a mouse…or maybe a rat. It sounded big. Perhaps those traps were good for something after all.

· Your gaze lingers on the spot for a moment longer, but still, there is nothing but silence. Maybe it had been the house creaking in the wind. Old houses were prone to groaning after all. Either way, it couldn’t hurt to move some of the traps further up into the house for a little bit, just to be on the safe side.

· You turn and continue down the hall, mind once again turning to the blanket, the book, and the comfy glow of the library. You press your palm flat against the wall as you walk, the whisper of your skin sliding over the wallpaper barely audible, even in the quiet that envelops the house at night.

· Then your fingers catch against something—an indentation in the wallpaper. It’s subtle, but definitely there. You stop to inspect it closer, worried that perhaps your assessment about the house not showing its age may have come a little hastily. Your fingers explore the seam with care, and you decide it’s not a crack—it’s too regular, too straight. It feels intentional in its design. And it’s practically invisible in the darkness—likely just as difficult to spot in daylight considering how frequently you find yourself in this hall and your failure to take notice of it before now.

· You crouch down, following the seam with your fingers. It stretches all the way down to the floor. Why…it’s almost like…a little door…

· Almost at the same moment this thought trickles into your mind, the little section of wall gives way beneath your touch, swinging inward on silent hinges.

· From within the inky darkness beyond, a pair of long, thin arms surge forth, snaking around your waist. The grip in which they envelop you is bruising as you are pulled back into the darkness beyond the secret door.

· It slams behind you hard enough to rattle the picture frames in the hall. You scream, long and hard, struggling against the arms that cage you. You flail your limbs, lashing out blindly with fists and feet and nails, hoping desperately to strike your attacker, or at least wriggle enough to squirm from their crushing grasp. But the grip around your midsection only tightens, squeezing the very air from your lungs.

· You lurch into motion, the figure in the darkness half-carrying, half-dragging you along a narrow passageway. You try to scream again but find you can’t get enough air to do so. Instead, you lash out, legs kicking against the walls, knees and shins colliding painfully with rough, wooden support beams and sharp corners.

· While rounding a particularly tight corner, you manage to kick the opposite wall hard enough to throw your attacker off balance. A hissing shower of dust and plaster rains down on the pair of you. The figure stumbles, grip relaxing for only a moment, but it’s enough. You wriggle from their crushing grasp and dart back the way you came.

· The figure recovers quickly, and you can hear them bolting after you in the darkness. It doesn’t take long before they’re on you again, one large hand fisted deep in your hair, wrenching your head back. You cry out in pain, stumbling back against the intruder. The hand in your hair doesn’t relinquish it’s hold as their other arm wraps around your chest, locking in place like an iron bar. You struggle uselessly, hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you’re dragged back the way you’d come, seemingly with even less regard for your physical well-being.

· Not far beyond the corner where you’d made your escape, you’re shoved to the ground unceremoniously. As you make to crawl away, the figure circles around you, blocking your path of escape. Even as your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can’t see much more than an outline. Even so, you can tell they’re much bigger than you. You feel a large hand sliding beneath your knees, and another on the small of your back and suddenly, the floor beneath you drops away. Instinctively, your arms shoot out, fumbling in the darkness for something solid to grab hold of. Your grasping hands find a fist-full of the intruder’s shirt. It’s soft and well-worn in your hands, and you clutch so tightly to it that you can feel your fingers beginning to cramp almost immediately. A soft rumble rolls through the figure, and after a moment, you realize they’re laughing at you. You want to let go, but the fear of tumbling backward into the darkness stills your hands.

· With the way you’re being jostled about, you get the distinct impression that you’re ascending a flight of stairs. Secret tunnels and staircases in the walls? Under any other circumstance, you would be ecstatic, ready to drop everything and explore them. But caught as you were, in the arms of a stranger, there is nothing but panic within you. Taking advantage of your new position, you take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the intention to scream, though you’re sure there’s no one around to hear you.

· “Don’t.” So, it’s a man? His voice is soft, a half-whisper that thrums through your body where it’s pressed up against his chest. There is a distinctly British tilt to his voice, and it’s oddly muffled, as though something was covering his mouth. You’re reminded of those old cartoon bandits who wore bandanas across their mouths. He doesn’t want to be identified. The though sends a cold chill through you. This isn’t good. “Scream and I’ll drop you.”

· The scream dies in your throat. While you certainly don’t like being caught in a strange man’s grip, the thought of lying broken at the bottom of a secret staircase no one else seems to know about hammers a worse kind of fear into your gut. You could die…or not and that might be the worse option: injured and completely at a stranger’s mercy. No. As it stands, if you follow his instructions, you remain unharmed, and the longer you remain unharmed, the better your chances of finding a way out.

· At the top of the steps, you find yourself in front of a rough wooden door. Here he readjusts his grip on you, bracing your weight against his hips as he taps the door open with a gentle kick.

· Suddenly, you’re bathed in a soft, golden light cast by the dozens of candles that lay scattered about the room. After so much time spent in the dark, the burst of light dazzles your eyes. In spite of your fear, you curl up against the strange man’s chest, turning away from the light that blinds and burns your eyes. It’s too much too soon.

· The man laughs again, bouncing you gently in his arms, like one would a small child, “No hiding.”

· His tone is light, but it is still a command. Sensing scant room for disobedience, you turn your face up towards his, cracking one eye open, then the other. You had been told not to, but in the flickering light, as you blink up at the face of your kidnapper, you can do nothing to stop the scream that builds in your throat.

· His face is hidden, not behind a bandana, but a porcelain mask. The pale white surface is littered with a spider’s web of thin cracks and what looks to be dried blood. Your eyes sweep over the soft curve of the mouth, the delicate nose which turns up at the end, and the empty spaces behind which dark, human eyes burn into your own.

· The moment the scream leaves you, ringing loud in the enclosed space, the man snarls, striding into the room with purpose. As he weaves through the maze of dusty old furniture, you beat your fists against his chest, squirming in his grip, trying with renewed desperation to escape his clutches. “Let me go! Let me go!!”

· Ignoring your pleas, he stalks to the far corner of the room, where a low-slung cot waits, tucked close against a rough brick wall. He dumps you none too gently onto it, and you scrabble backward, knocking your head against the wall behind you. Your ears ring with the force of the blow, but your eyes remain trained on the masked man as he clambers onto the cot with you.

· You jam yourself back into the corner, as far from the menacing figure as possible. He comes toward you slowly, laughing, as though this were all some silly game the pair of you were enjoying. You kick at him, and he swats your leg away, his shoulders shaking with laughter. His eyes, however, aren’t laughing. Where they peak out from beneath the mask, they blaze with only one thing: hunger.

· You kick out at him again, catching him, this time, on the jaw, just beneath the edge of his mask. And just like that he’s not laughing anymore. He goes frighteningly still, and there’s a change in the air. You know he’s done playing.

· He lunges for you, and you shriek, cowering back against the wall, the rough bricks digging into the flesh of your arms. His hands close around your ankles and he pulls you down toward him.

· He slots himself between your legs, pinning your thighs down with boney knees. You squirm beneath him, but he’s too heavy for you to shake off. He looms above you in the candlelight, breathing hard, his eyes flashing behind the mask. With a jolt, you realize he’s going to hurt you. You’re so sure, you flinch, cringing away from him as much as is possible, bracing for the pain that’s sure to come.

· But, when his knuckles brush against your cheek, it’s not in anger. It’s a gentle caress that jolts through you like an electric current. You turn to look at him, as he brushes the damp hair back from your forehead. He stares at you for a long moment, drinking in your shock, before leaning down to press cool porcelain lips against yours.

· The kindness of his gestures surprises you almost more than any blow he could have delivered. When he promised to play rough, he usually meant it. With shaking hands, you reach up to touch his face. Your fingers slip beneath the mask, brushing the hair and skin beneath with feather-light touches. You want to see his face, want kisses from his real lips, want—

· But the man’s fingers curl around your wrists, wrenching your hands from his face. “No.” There is force behind the word equal to the force with which he pins your wrists against the sheets, indenting the mattress beneath them. His voice, in that same soft whisper from before, rasps in your ear, “Not even when we’re playing, Love.”

· You swallow hard, all the pretenses of your little experiment dropping away in an instant. You realize you came dangerously close to crossing a line. “Okay. Brahms. I-I’m sorry.”

· You expect that he’ll want to stop now, and you wouldn’t blame him if he did, but he surprises you by nuzzling against your neck, “Not ‘Brahms.’”

· So, he still wants to play. You smile up at him. “Oh, right! Sorry.”

· He bends over your neck again, pressing porcelain kisses against your neck. You crane your head back, eager to make up for your misstep with the mask. There’s something about these kisses that makes your heart flutter—perhaps it’s simply the rush of a new sensation against sensitive flesh, or maybe it’s the knowledge that his real lips lay just beneath that hard surface, so close and yet completely out of reach.

· When he lets go of your left wrist, you’re so caught up in these kisses, that you barely register it. That is until you feel the mask slide in an unnatural direction against your skin, and you feel Brahms’ real lips against your neck for the first time. Your whole body jerks forward, pressing against him with a soft sigh on your lips. His mouth is softer and warmer than you ever could have imagined. Even his beard feels good where it scratches against you.

· His teeth scrape over your pulse, drawing another sound from you. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him down on top of you. His laugh rasps out against your throat, as he stamps warm kisses all across your collarbone.

· You roll your hips against his and he groans, the sound rumbling deep within his chest. He surges upward fixing his teeth into the meat of your neck as he grinds down against you, letting you feel just how badly he wants you. His name slips between your teeth as a hiss and you feel him smile against your neck. His tongue flickers over the mark he’s left, though it’s more to lay further claim than to soothe the ache his teeth pushed into your flesh.

· When he pulls back, he’s already pushing the mask back into place, though you catch a quick flash of the smirk that pulls at the corner of his mouth.

· He looks down at you, eyes sliding slow down your body, head cocked to the side like he’s thinking. He has that hungry look about him again and it lights a white-hot bolt of desire in your gut. You lift your hips, rolling them against his, relishing both the spark of pleasure that shoots through your stomach, and the shiver that rolls down his spine. A little whine escapes his lips, and you feel your heart leap. God, you’d do anything to hear that sound again. He meets the roll of your body with a stuttering jolt of his own.

· You can’t help but beam up at him. “What are you thinking about Brah—Mister?”

· He sighs deeply, running his hands down your chest, his fingers tracing along your ribs. “About all the things I could do to you…”

· A breathless puff of laughter escapes you, “Oh, yeah?” You guide his hands down to your hips, hoping he’ll take the hint. “Like what?”

· “Hm…let’s see. I could, hold you down,” His hands, still resting beneath yours tighten against your hips, pushing you down against the mattress. You try to buck up against him, but he holds you fast, “I don’t think so, Love.” He grips you hard, dipping his head to whisper into your ear, “I could just hold you here, and you’d have to take whatever I decide to give you.” His thumbs trace the seams of your hips. Even through your jeans it makes you shudder.

· “Or, I could give you very little at all,” He lets go of your hips in favour of ghosting a hand down your thigh. His other hand presses gently against your zipper. His fingers trail down the seam, until you feel the pressure against your clit and jerk against his hand. He pulls away, “Just enough to keep you interested, but not enough to satisfy you.”

· You whine, feeling a damp patch growing in your underwear. You know he’d get such a charge from dragging this out, teasing you until your arousal had soaked through the denim of your jeans. You could hear him now, ‘A few kisses and some dirty words…it’s that easy?' While you’d usually be willing to indulge him, you weren’t willing to give him that satisfaction today. He was already so uppity as it was. “Or you could just toss my legs over your shoulders and take what you want.” You toss an arm over your forehead in an attempt at playing toward his flair for the dramatic, “Look at me, baby. I’m defenseless.” You roll your hips against him again, nice and slow. You can tell by the hitch in his breathing that you’ve almost got him convinced. You can barely keep the smirk from your face as you arch your back, and whimper for him, “Please?”

· That one word is all it takes to break him. In a flash he’s slipped out of his cardigan and tossed it off into the darkness of the attic. His suspenders follow suit with a metallic clinking. It isn’t until he’s unbuttoning his trousers that you realize you have mere seconds to undo your own before Brahms falls upon you and tears them off himself. You’ve lost more than one good pair of jeans this way and you don’t intend to lose another if you can help it.

· Your shaking hands fumble with the button, managing to pop it only after a few tries. Taking them off from your position underneath Brahms is no small feat, especially considering his reluctance to move, now that his trousers rest about his knees and he’s rolling his hips against your still clothed thigh, his cock already leaking against the denim.

· “Want you now.” His voice is rough, breaking in time with the thrusting of his hips.

· “I know, baby. But you’ve gotta wait.”

· Brahms huffs in irritation. ‘Wait’ is not a word he likes to hear at the best of times, let alone when his dick is this hard.

· You tap his hip gently. “C’mon, up.”

· He drops his head against your shoulder with a petulant whimper, his hips stuttering against your thigh.

· “Brahms…” You sigh, half-frustrated, half-amused. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find it incredibly sexy when Brahms acted like a brat, but your pleasure was at stake here as well. “You can’t fuck me properly with my jeans on.”

· His hips slow for a moment, and he whines again.

· “C’mon, be a good boy for me.” You feel his cock pulse against your thigh, and he relents. He scoots back just enough for you to push your jeans and underwear down your thighs. Brahms takes care of the rest, tearing the offending fabric from your legs and tossing it from the bed to join his cardigan on the floor.

· His hands are on your shoulders in an instant, shoving you back against the mattress, all patience spent. You feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and barely have a time to take a breath before he’s pushing inside with a single, smooth stroke.

· “F-Fuuuck…”

· “Yeah, that’s the idea, baby.” Your hands are fisted tightly in the sheets, your voice tight as your body grows accustomed to the stretch once again. You’ve taken Brahms with little preparation before. You know you can handle it, but somehow the girth of him almost always comes as a surprise.

· To his credit, he does his best to keep still until you give him the ‘okay,’ though you can feel his hips shaking with the effort. He’s mouthy while he waits though, any trace of the gentleman within him his gone, replaced by a cursing, dirty-talking stranger, “Gonna pound you into this mattress, gonna fuck you like—fuck you’re so wet—like your my whore…mine, mine, ah fuck! Mine.”

· You roll your hips, testing the water, and he bites back a string of curses. His hips stutter forward unbidden, and you moan low in your throat.

· Behind the mask, you see his eyes roll back. He starts to beg then, changing his tune entirely, “Please, Love, let me fuck you, please, please, please. I promise I’ll be good. I will, just please!”

· You reach up, carding your fingers through his hair, “Show me what a good boy you are, make us feel good, baby.”

· Without missing a beat, Brahms’ hips take up a frantic rhythm, tearing a litany of pretty sounds from your throat. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair as he drops his head to press doll’s mouth kisses against your throat.

· Your hand slips between your bodies, spreading your lips to circle your clit. You buck against him, gasping his name as the pleasure courses through you two-fold.

· A strong hand grasps your wrist again pulling it away from your clit. “We mustn’t touch what isn’t ours.” You nearly whine in frustration, but your displeasure is quickly forgotten when you feel the soft pads of Brahms’ fingers against your sensitive flesh.

· “You,” he groans in pleasure, angling his hips to push deeper inside of you, “You belong to me.” He punctuates the sentiment with a sharp snap of his hips. “That means I am the only one who can make you feel good.” He presses his fingers hard against your clit, and your thighs begin to shake. “Tell me who you belong to.”

· It takes you a second to find your voice. “Y-You, Brahms.”

· “Yesss,” the rhythm of his thrusts is beginning to fall by the wayside as his hips buck and stutter. “Say it again.” His fingers circle your clit faster, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm.

· “Fuck, Brahms! I’m yours! A-All yours! You’re gonna make me cum.”

· “Mine.” You feel the mask slide to the side again and his lips are on your neck. You feel his teeth graze the bite mark he’d left. His teeth are in your throat, his fingers on your clit, his cock in your cunt, and you’re cumming. His name tumbles from your lips, the only coherent thought in your mind.

· He groans against your neck, trying to fuck you through it, but you’re too tight around him, forcing him into an agitated stillness. His fingers work your clit feverishly until you push his hand away, too oversensitive to stand another second of it.

· You’re still almost painfully tight around him when the rhythmic pulsing of your own orgasm begins to push him over the edge. He thrusts into you once, twice, thrice more, before pulling out and shaking apart, his cum painting your thighs and stomach. He whimpers and trembles, fisting his cock through the aftershocks of his orgasm, desperate to chase every last ounce of pleasure.

· Only when he’s well and truly spent, nearly sobbing from the agony of the overstimulation does he flop down on the cot beside you, panting heavily, cock still twitching against his thighs.

· He kicks off his trousers, and curls up by your side, throwing an arm around you. For the longest time, the only sound in the room is that of your breathing slowing in tandem as you each come down from your high.

· Brahms’ voice is small when he speaks up at last, “Did I do okay?”

· You turn to face him, laying on your side. You reach out a hand and readjust his mask, before pressing a soft kiss against the delicate bow of his lips. “You were perfect. Thank you, Brahms.”

· He nods once, but he doesn’t look convinced. There’s tension in his shoulders, and he won’t look you in the eyes.

· “What’s wrong, honey?”

· He shakes his head, burrowing against your side. “Nothing…”

· “It doesn’t look like nothing to me. It’s okay to talk to me about things like this, you know.”

· He’s silent for a little while longer, and you wonder if he needs a little more prodding to use his words. But then, he speaks, “I wasn’t…too rough? In the passages?”

· “No, baby. No. It was exactly like we talked about.”

· “Okay.” There’s a little touch of a frown in his voice, like he’s trying to puzzle something through in his mind. “I didn’t expect you to fight me so hard. It felt…real.”

· “I wanted to make it seem real. Did I upset you?”

· There’s a long pause, but when he speaks, he sounds genuine. “I don’t think so. It was a little…thrilling.”

· You can’t help the giggle that bubbles in your throat, “It was, wasn’t it? Where did you get an idea like that? Pretending to kidnap me and all that?”

· He’s quiet for a moment, as he remembers a time not so long ago, when the idea was meant to be more reality than fantasy. He was supposed to have that girl. He should have done better, should have fought for her harder, should have killed her and buried her in the yard with the others. He should have done a lot of things. The scar on his stomach burns with the memory of all the things he should have done. But they don’t matter now. She doesn’t matter now. He has you.

· He presses another kiss against your neck and lies, “Recreation of a scene from 'Jane Eyre.' You know how I adore that novel. And you being such a pretty lady, simply had to fill the role of the damsel in distress.”

· “If you say so.” You snuggle closer against his chest. He really was a very strange man. A yawn blossoms in the base of your jaw, but you do your best to fight it off. You know you’ll be sore later, but for now you’re happy and sated and perfectly content to doze in the arms of the man you love.

· Then a thought hits you, “Hold on, Jane Eyre doesn’t get kidnapped, Brahms.”

· He chuckles softly against your shoulder, “So you have been reading my books after all.”

#brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #the boy 2016 #slasher x reader #im so sorry this is so late #i couldnt figure out how to wrote brahms in a way that i liked :/#enjoy i hope #im off to bed #also ive never written het smut before so...i hope its alright #ripper fics

265 notes · View notes

pega-chan · 4 years ago

Text

Valent Damian Rafaelt - The Unintentionally Stellar Aro Rep

finally getting around to this post! in honour of Pride Month and Aggresively Arospec Week (@aggressivelyarospec), i'm doing an analysis on possibly the most well-written aro character i've ever seen in the media - Valent Rafaelt. i never expected to get a POC aro character in the local comic scene, but here we are! /gen sorry for my crappy comic scans in advance. (tagging @nzcienif cuz i think you might find this interesting :D)

[ID: A picture of Valent Rafaelt from the Scrambled comic series looking right at the camera. He is a fair-skinned teen boy with light blue eyes and sideswept, slightly messy brown hair. He wears black-rimmed glasses and a name tag that reads, "Valent Arjuna" pinned to his white t-shirt. End ID.]

Introduction

Valent Damian Rafaelt is a main character from the Indonesian comic book series Scrambled and its Webtoon prequel, Scrambled: Journeylism, both by Rosalina Lintang. set in modern-day Bandung, the story follows plucky transfer student Filan as he seeks out to start a band with his classmates at his new school. Valent is Filan's classmate and ends up being the bassist of his band, named "Scrambled". The kids of Scrambled set to polish and promote their band as they navigate their high school lives.

its prequel Scrambled: Journeylism centers on shy Visi (also a main character in Scrambled), who's just starting her high school freshman year (set a few months before the main series). She gets a journalism club assignment to write an article on the five hottest guys in school—and lo and behold, the list includes Valent, who she first falls in love with during orientation. The story here doesn't really focus on Valent, so i'll be focusing on Valent in the main series.

to describe Valent, i'm just going to copy the relevant bits of his official bio here.

positives: rational, witty, calm, realistic, and very independent

negatives: sarcastic, insensitive, too closed off, hard to read, aloof

hobbies: sleeping, eating, reading books, listening to music, browsing jokes/dog videos on the internet

likes: food, dogs, alone time, good books, puns

dislikes: no food, overly noisy environments, unrealistic and narrow-minded people, having his private space intruded upon

interestingly, there's a section in his bio that describes his type (of person to date). i guess the author didn't want to give away his nonamory earlier on in the story, or since his bio is supposed to be a reflection of his mind, it might just be that Valent feels obligated to have a 'type'. my headcanon is that he's just aesthetically attracted to girls.

type: someone smart, not annoyingly talkative, likes dogs, can cook, and 100% understands his need for privacy

based on that, i think Valent's really just describing his own qualities.

he (unintentionally) embodies some fun parts of aro culture too: pizza is his favourite food, and he would choose his pet dog over a romantic relationship any day. Valent is romance-neutral with a disinterest in romance; whenever it's brought up, however, he expresses his confusion about it and its amatonormative aspects. he's also nonamorous.

he's generally well-known at his school despite only being a freshman, with many acquaintances but few close friends. this is in part bc he's the 'too pretty to be aro' archetype: he's popular with the ladies bc of his good looks and many profess their love for him.

[ID: A three-panel black-and-white comic in Indonesian. The first panel shows two boys looking off to the side as they catch the tail end of a conversation. A girl says: "Valent! Aku...Aku suka kamu...terimalah cokelat buatanku ini!"

The second panel shows the two boys, bemused, watching Valent and a short-haired girl. Valent has his back to them. He says: "Maaf, tapi aku nggak suka cokelat. Omong-omong, kamu siapa ya? Pernah ketemu?" The girl gasps, in shock.

The third panel shows the two boys, bemused, watching Valent and a short-haired girl. The girl turns away from Valent, sobbing. End ID.]

translation:

Nathaniella: Valent! i...i like you...please accept these chocolates i made for you!

Valent: sorry, but i don't like chocolate. by the way, who are you anyway? have we met?

[ID: A two-panel black-and-white comic in Indonesian. The first panel has a black background with a single speech bubble that says, "Sori, tapi emangnya kita saling kenal?"

The second panel shows Valent, rubbing his neck and looking tired as he lets out a sigh; a girl running away from Valent, sobbing; and a boy peeking out from behind a wall, watching them both. End ID.]

translation: sorry, but do we know each other?

bc he's not very perceptive, however, Valent always rejects and dismisses them in an insensitive manner, to the point where he doesn't think that sharing their confessional chocolates with his friends is a big deal.

[ID: A black-and-white comic panel in Indonesian. Valent turns toward two boys, Filan and Axel, watching him, offering a box of chocolates. He asks: "Ada yang mau?"

Filan startles, thinking, "Eh! Memangnya...kamu nggak ngerasa awkward atau gimana??? Kok malah aku yang ngerasa awkward??"

Axel points to himself and replies, "Aku mau." End ID.]

translation:

Valent: anyone want some?

Axel: i do

Filan: don't you feel awkward or?? why am i the one feeling awkward???

Visi: ng...is it okay for you to be sharing Nathaniella's chocolates with others…?

Valent: because i hate chocolate.

Visi: ah, i see...but she definitely wants her chocolates to be eaten by you exclusively, right…? maybe you should ask permission first

Valent's problem is that he doesn't see the purpose of cushioning the girls' feelings bc he doesn't even know them, so it's easier to get to the point when he turns them down. even if he DID know them, Valent doesn't know how to handle people when they're crying. aside from that, he doesn't understand crushes so he doesn't really know how much his actions towards them can hurt them. this is the basis of his arc: he has to learn to be more considerate and sympathetic towards the girls he rejects.

Filan: ...hoi...Lent... it's not wrong to turn them down, but you don't have to be that sadistic, right? if you keep that up, no one's going to like you anymore.

Valent: great, that means i have to be even more sadistic!

Filan: (thinking) my god...is this kid really that ungrateful? don't you see your friend over here isn't very coveted by the ladies?

Filan: (out loud) that's not what i meant! you gotta reject them nicely, not as harshly as you always like to be! then you say 'thank you'! apologize properly!

Valent: i'm too lazy for that, it’s troublesome. easier to get to the point

The first volume of Scrambled serves as an introduction, so Valent's personal arc is explored fully in volumes 2 and 3. here's the major character involved in his story.

Visi

[ID: A bust drawing of Visi from the Scrambled comic series. She has fair skin, brown eyes, and shoulder-length black hair and is grinning. She's wearing her school uniform that consists of a collared white short-sleeved shirt with her school emblem on the breast pocket and a greyish blue tie. End ID.]

the catalyst. Visi has had a crush on Valent since the beginning of the school year but never interacted with him. at first she sort of puts him on a pedestal, but when she gets recruited as Scrambled's band manager, she befriends Valent and discovers another side to him as they grow closer. even though she does get frustrated with how oblivious he is, she still likes him. Visi calculates her chances at a romantic relationship with Valent, and after much thought and encouragement from her friends, she confesses to him over semestral break. when she does, Valent is forced to deal with the aftermath and confront his aromanticism and insensitivity head-on, kickstarting his crisis.

the two have a lot in common and Visi ends up being one of Valent's closest friends, so he cares a lot about her. here's some stuff you should know about her from her official bio.

positives: perceptive, likes to help, hardworking, very loyal, reliable

negatives: sceptical, has difficulty prioritizing herself, pessimist, low self-esteem, has difficulty turning people down

likes: good books, chocolate, romantic things, history, kind people

dislikes: bugs, being ignored, sudden changes in plans, rude people, being disturbed

this doesn't really have an impact on Valent's arc, but is interesting to note: Val is in a subversive love triangle with Visi and Scrambled's drummer, Hosea. Visi is on bad terms with Hosea, who in turn has a crush on HER. her cold shoulder gets warmer until they reconcile in volume 3 (Visi and Hosea are endgame, and it's set up pretty nicely from the beginning). Hosea and Valent are actually good friends, and Hosea advises them both when misunderstandings occur between them post-confession. there's none of the silly "fighting over a girl" plot, bc one of them in the triangle is aromantic and cannot care less.

The Story

the beginning is simple: Visi has a crush on Valent, and decides to build their friendship. while doing so, she tries to estimate her chances with Valent. all anyone knows is that Valent turns down anyone who's ever hit on him, but her reasoning is that they weren't people he knew personally. she thinks perhaps he'd go for someone close to him.

Visi: if...if for example you were friends with someone...then one day they admitted to liking you, how [would you react]...?

Valent: hmmm...well i'd just turn them down.

Visi: e-even though you knew them, you'd still reject them? even if you were close?

Valent: well, how do i put this...even if they did 'like' me, is it not enough for us to be just friends? i don't understand why we'd have to change it into something else. what's the difference with what we have now? is there something that makes it different? i don't get it.

i think this is something that confuses a lot of us aros - the difference between different committed relationships. how exactly are they defined, and how much do they differ? we often don't know, and neither does Valent. we try to define them anyway through our own personal lenses :D

also, notice how he doesn't consider a romantic relationship as "more" than friendship. just "something else". even before he realized he was aro, Valent still said fuck amatonormativity, and that is very iconic of him.

in fact, his nonamory is so obvious, several of his friends comment on it:

Visi: i don’t understand Valent's line of thought...and it seems like he’s not someone who cares about that sort of thing...aside from that, i feel like he always turn down girls not just because he just ‘doesn’t know them’....

Hosea: ah, how do i say this…i think i get it...when i was talking with him, it really felt like he wasn’t the type of guy who likes talking about girls or stuff like that…

despite that, Visi’s friends still encourage her to pursue him, because you never know right? Visi's big push for her confession was during semestral break, where she and Valent were working on lyrics for an original song Scrambled was making. Visi was putting herself down and expressing self-doubt about her writing abilities, and Valent tells her this:

Valent: you can’t think that. In my eyes, you’re more than that.”

obviously, if it were any other character, this would’ve come off as an (amatonormative) romantic gesture. unfortunately for Visi, Valent is not allo, so of course he meant something else when he said it. this one statement gave Visi the courage to confess.

Visi: I LIKE YOU!

Valent: you...like me?

Visi: (nods) tha-that’s why...if we can...i’d like to go out with you...!

Valent: why?

His first reaction was to question why Visi would have feelings for him - not because he’s insecure, but because he couldn’t understand how a crush works. as a logical person, he wants to know how it works, and Visi’s reply doesn’t satisfy him.

Visi: we-well, the thing is...i was surprised and happy when you complimented my piece that was posted on the school news bulletin board. I was happy that you considered me that highly. To the point where you entrusted with several important things [writing pieces]...a-anyway, sorry if my question is too sudden! But this is the first time i’ve ever been able to get this close with someone i like! And the first time someone i liked has ever noticed me! So…!

AND THEN THE BIGGEST PLOT TWIST OF ALL TIME.

Valent: i like you too, Vis. but...do we have to get into a romantic relationship just because of that? Boyfriend and girlfriend...regular friends...i don’t see the difference with what we’ve been doing this entire time.

Visi: of course it’s different! If we were a couple, we would be a lot closer, and--

Valent: we could be like that as friends too. why should we change our relationship if nothing is really different? It’s better if we stay as we are.

After that, he tells her he’s going to give her some time to be alone, apologizes, then walks away, leaving her crying.

If he doesn’t give off aro vibes by now, then idk what to tell you.

As school swings back in session, Valent commits a major mistake - assuming that Visi was similar to him. He thought that, like him, she would be able to move on quickly from experiences such as this one, and could heal by herself. he thought that the confession was the end of it and everything would go back to normal, so he acts like nothing's wrong. because Valent is painfully oblivious, he doesn't notice how Visi is actively trying to avoid interacting with him while she tries to move on from his rejection.

when the rest of the band catches wind of what Valent did, they all agree it was nonsensical for Valent to leave Visi at her lowest point. Visi is a sentimental person, so they advise Valent to try and sympathize with her and be considerate towards her feelings. he doesn't know how to do that either, so Hosea advises that he give Visi some space. and because Valent is so lost in such an unfamiliar situation, he naively follows Hosea's advice without thinking it through like he usually does.

i feel like here his disinterest in romance really backfires on him, bc when he's faced with rejecting someone he very much cares about, he's lost on how to sympathize with an occurrence he's never been in--getting one's heart broken bc of a crush. as you can imagine, mindlessly following Hosea's advice worsens things instead, bc Valent ends up avoiding Visi when she actively tries to approach him and straighten things out. this makes Visi thinks he hates her, and gets discouraged for a while.

i might be repeating myself, but just a reminder that Valent jumping through so many hoops to repair his friendship with Visi is a Big Deal. he's difficult to befriend and has few close friends, so the fact that he's trying so hard to keep their friendship means a lot--especially knowing Visi is a girl and could possibly hit on him and complicate things. to him, a great friend is worth fighting for.

after Valent realizes he's screwing it up even further, and after Visi finds out from Hosea that Valent's just taking his advice the wrong way, the two finally have a proper conversation to sort things out.

Visi: this is all my fault. Someone like me dares to have a crush on someone like—

Valent: No. In my eyes, you're more than that.

Visi: ...What do you mean?

Valent: What does what mean?

Visi: When you said, "You're more than that", Val.

Valent: Well you keep talking as if you're lesser than everybody else. Even though I think you're amazing.

Visi: ...HUH?

Valent:...Once again, I think I worded that wrong..to be honest, I was also confused when you told me that you 'liked' me. Because I don't understand what I'm supposed to do with those 'like-LIKE' feelings. Do you remember when I said I 'liked' you back? But...what about it? Why is it when two people like each other they have to date or pair up? Isn't friendship enough?

Visi: ...

Valent: Do you get it?

Visi: S-so...if you have to ask something like that... what does that feeling of 'like' feel like for you all this time?

Valent: Meaning...?

Visi: For me...the feeling of 'like' means that I want to be considered more special than everyone else... or maybe it's more like the feeling of wanting to be somebody else's...

Valent: Was that what you felt when you had a crush on me?

Visi: Yeah, something like that.

Valent: Oh...well I think it's different for me. What I feel is more akin to awe or respect. Like when you look up to a senior in your school club bc of their amazing personality and skills. Could you imagine dating them because you are in awe of them?

Visi:..No.

Valent: Well, that's how I've been feeling this entire time.

Visi: So...even if you 'like' someone, you haven't felt the urge to 'own' them/'be theirs'?

Valent: When you put it that way...then yeah. I guess I haven't.

this one conversation made me squeal the first time i read it. turns out he went through SEVERAL very common aro experiences: mistaking admiration (or any other positive emotions) for romantic attraction, not understanding the hype around romance, and not understanding romance, period. then he proceeds to COME OUT to the close friend who he rejected after she helped him figure out that, he does not, in fact, experience romantic attraction. this boy, a hormonal teenager, really explicitly admits that he’s never gotten crushes before. i nearly cried bc i felt so seen. and it’s such a surprise bc my country has such an amatonormative society, i didn’t think anyone actively challenges amatonormativity, let alone have a character who is so explicitly aro - and Lintang gave the local comic industry both. needless to say, Valent means so much to me, and i hope topics like this can surface more in local media.

to wrap up Valent’s arc, the epilogue has a scene where Valent rejects a girl--but he's considerate about it.

[ID: A black-and-white comic page in Indonesian with three panels. Valent stands, silent, his expression blank, then says, "Sori. Tapi emangnya kita saling kenal?"

A long-haired girl stares back at him, surprised. End ID.]

[ID: A black and white comic page in Indonesian. A long-haired hair turns away from Valent in frustration, but glances back when Valent says something. Two boys and another girl watch her and Valent from behind a wall as Valent says, "Tapi, makasih udah ngasih tau." End ID.]

[ID: A black-and-white comic panel in Indonesian. It depicts Valent and a long-haired girl looking at the camera. Valent says, "Aku hargain perasaanmu." The girl blushes and looks surprised. End ID.]

translation: sorry. but do we know each other?

but...thanks for letting me know. i respect your feelings.

is Valent aro or not?

from the canon text, it's pretty clear that he is. i don't know how else to read it. he quite literally admits to never having crushes before; i think that's pretty solid. but the author never really confirms it, and i don't blame her if she doesn't--in a queerphobic country, her readers wouldn't take it well. she does, however, admit to having bi and gay characters, but never brings up their sexualities bc it wasn't relevant to the story.

[ID: A tweet in Indonesian with the username blocked out. It reads, "10) anak pertamanya nessa bkn anak kandung alias anak tiri makanya design-nya mirip persis bapaknya (bilang aja ga kreatif (loudly crying face emoji))

"11) there are characters who're gay & bisexual but i'm not gonna tell bcs i don't think it's relevant to the story (statusnya, klo perasaan sih valid)" End ID.]

specifically i'm talking about point no. 11 (these two points were grouped together bc Lintang was doing a trivia drop for Scrambled characters on her twitter).

translation (for the Indonesian sentence): [for] their status [i mean], their feelings are valid

Valent’s romantic orientation, however, IS relevant to his story. In bettering himself, he ended up finally understanding a part of himself that helped him navigate a world saturated in romance. His case is a lot like Saiki K.’s from The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. - pretty obviously aro, but never having it officially confirmed (except Valent of course has more evidence).

In conclusion: Valent Damian Rafaelt is aromantic and there is nothing you could say that can convince me otherwise.

[ID: An aromantic pride icon of the character Valent from the Scrambled comic book series. Valent is in a 3/4 bust view, smiling as he looks at the camera. He is wearing a sweatshirt over a collared flannel shirt. End ID.]

#aggressivelyarospecweek #aromantic #scrambled #this took forever to format but i did it. i wrote the essay 😭😭😁😁✌✌

58 notes · View notes