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voidedleylines · 2 years ago

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FFXIV Write 2023 Day 14: Clear

Well i got the prompt and this *immediately* came to me like a gut punch so uh. Here it is lol.

In which the WoL accepts Emet-Selch's offer.

Enjoy!

Rating: T+ || no real CWs || AU: Canon-Divergence/ShB plot discussions.

It’s not at all what she expected as she stares into the vast, but still somehow homely, room. The bed is inviting, the shackles that hang from them, not so much.

There's a coldness that runs up her spine and Freyalin feels a burst of light burn up her throat. “Oh don't be so sensitive, you can ignore those,” he says. “For now anyway,” he adds after a pause.

She’s silent as she doesn't trust her voice right now. Her mind's racing and full of thoughts of guilt and grief and anger and pain. It's the right choice. This has to be the right choice. She’s too dangerous, too damaged to be around the ones she cares for. So she left in the middle of the night and found him here, taking his offer of solitude while she transforms from the inside out. Without invitation she sits at the edge of the bed and takes stock of how soft the blankets are.

She stares at him as he slunches at her. Arms crossed as they always are and face still locked in that disinterested way about him. His eyes though are what she catches, and for the first time since they've met, they've let their guard down and she can see it, see him - clear as day.

Something deep inside her bubbles, below her core and below the light making a mess of things. Her hand twitches involuntarily and she has to clench it before it reaches towards him.

He spots the movement and his eyebrows furrow deeper. He lets out a scoff and begins to move about the room, “Here is where you are to stay,” he goes into explaining, “Don't get bold and go exploring or whatever else it is you want to do. I don't want you exploding all over my home.”

Her face is set as she clenches her jaw. She's never met anyone as frustratingly confusing as him. She's only half listening as he begins to prattle on about more ‘rules’ he has for her when she finally snaps.

“What is the point of all of this, Emet-Selch,” she says. His name feels slightly wrong on her tongue. She swallows and feels the sizzle of it travel down her throat.

He pauses but says nothing.

Her chest is so hot it makes her head pound, her resolve slips as she continues, “why not just kill me now. Why go through all of this,” she gestures around the room, “I’m the monster you say I am, why not kill me before…” she hesitates, he seems to know her intentions anyway, “before I kill you.”

He laughs and it's wrong. It's bitter and it's infuriating. He walks closer to her and stands so he's directly above. He leans his head all the way down until they're inches apart. Again she sees his eyes. They're piercing into her, almost looking into her soul.

Something inside her lurches as the words out of her mouth before she stops it, “Hades.”

He lets out a choked gasp and leaps back, as if burned by her fire. His face twists into something mean, unhinged. “No,” he spits out, “you…what did you say,”

She shakes her head, “I-I don't know. It wasn’t. I didn’t-”

He walks up and grabs her wrist, digging into it with all his will. She cries out and that then makes her begin to cough. Light making its way out of her, the excess burns her hand as it falls into it.

When she comes too she notices the shackle around her wrist. For the first time panic sets in and if she's not careful she’ll throw up more light. “You can't do this,” she says. Wrist wiggling frantically against the metal.

“You no longer have a say of things. You…you monster, wretched thing,” he says. “You don't deserve to-” he cuts himself off, “you will stay here and rot like you deserve.”

His eyes shine with a rage that wasn't there at the start of this. The emotion deep down cries out and then dies, leaving a spot of cold surrounded by the acidic heat of light.

Emet-Selch turns and leaves her there, slamming the door as he does. She can no longer fight it as light pushes out of her and onto the floor. She groans as she again tries to break the chain, she lets out a yelp as the metal heats and burns her.

Defeated she moves until she's properly laying down, arm outstretched uncomfortably. There's a passing thought that she deserves this. All of it.

A coward. A monster. A naive girl who thought she could trust someone like whoever Emet-Selch was. She's paying for it now, and she will be until this poisoning overtakes her.

She thinks of Ryne of Thancred…of Minfilia. How disappointed they would be.

She thinks of Hien, who maybe always deserved better than she could give.

None of it matters now, if it ever did. She tries to drift off to sleep, with light boiling in her stomach and laughter of an old friend in her head.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #freya writes #shadowbringers #emet selch #canon divergent au #we're all FINE here don't WORRY #also first time writing the garbage man hope it all wrks out

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spacexseven · 2 years ago

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misconduct

NOTE: i really missed working on oneshots :>>

REQUEST: yandere! dazai with an oblivious + self sacrificing darling from @cc-6789

CW: yandere character + themes, obsession, jealousy, stalking, deceit, (heavy) manipulation, abuse of power, breaking and entering. dazai is an Asshole

the first time you loudly declared that you trusted dazai enough to go check on a case with him, dazai felt his heart falter.

it was almost funny how quickly you trusted him, but the thought that you might share your trust with anyone else immediately silenced any humor dazai may have found in the situation. if all it took from him was to regularly ask you about your day, with a little flirting on the side for you to already decide that he was...nice, what would it take from anyone else? was kunikida, who, despite his harsh comments, personally guided you through the hectic report writing process, also nice? was yosano, with her insisting that you step out of the office with her to stretch your legs, also just as easy to trust? though he was confident none of his coworkers held the same wicked thoughts about you as he did, the bitter taste in his mouth refused to go away every time he saw you cling onto yosano on your way out or graciously smile at kunikida before heading home.

and about why he decided to mess with you despite knowing that you trusted him, honestly, he was only curious—just how much did you trust him? or, perhaps, a sullen part of him thinks, it may just be an offhanded statement by which you meant nothing. though nobody around dazai threw around the word trust lightly, he wasn't sure if it was the same for you.

honestly, you weren't all that special in dazai's book, nobody as memorable as the dangerous ability users he mingled with or the incomprehensibly genius minds he discussed with. but there was something about you that lingered in his mind. he can't put his finger on it exactly, but he identified it to be woven into your determination and unwavering resolve, hidden in the bright look in your eyes when you grinned at his antics, and surrounding the silent reassurance you offered when the world weighed down on him—something about you that was entirely unforgettable. somehow, the perfectly ordinary you became so unattainable and striking, even without trying.

and he coveted for all that was you to be his, for it to be tucked away in the palm of his hand, hidden away from prying eyes. he yearned for it to shine for him and not for anyone else, not for any other sweet words or gentle caresses. wasn't it selfish? to want someone so much?

for the most part, you were oblivious to his sinister desires. if not, why were you so careless around him? why did you smile so freely, gravitate towards him so naturally, as though it was perfectly normal to do so? he wonders if you'll scorn him if you knew how selfish he was; not that he couldn't take care of it anyway.

dazai inches a little bit closer to your stiff figure, watching out of the corner of his eye as you glance over at him nervously. at this rate, he was going to be in your lap before you could leave. he observes your eyes flitting between the clock on the wall, its hand crawling at an unbearably slow pace, and to his hand, which had found purchase on your thigh.

he lets his hand shift, holding his breath as his fingers graze your inner thigh with a light touch—light enough to resemble a slight breeze or a delicate brush, but you know it was him. he waits, with bated breath, his fingers on your thigh trembling in anticipation. your lips purse together, a frown slowly creeping onto your face, eyes stuck onto your screen instead now.

and then—"dazai," you finally acknowledge the man beside you, "i'm sure you're bored by watching me work all day long."

he stares at you, not exactly surprised by your response. you go on about how he could just wait outside and you'd be out in a moment or if he'd like you could close up now, but instead of paying attention to your words, his gaze is stuck on your pretty mouth. your lips, he observes, are chapped and dry. you don't seem to notice his attention shift as you ramble on, words never reaching dazai.

you're cut off abruptly when he leans over and starts digging into your bag, finally grasping the cylindrical tube he had been looking for.

"pucker up," he grins deviously at your startled expression, waving the tube in his hand.

honestly, you were far too cute—you had to be doing this on purpose. he was tempted to grab your face and kiss you right then, but he knew better than to try. as the confusion cleared up, you awkwardly follow his orders, hands clenched at your sides. any last protests from you are ignored, his fingers firmly holding your jaw.

a soft smile makes its way onto dazai's face as he slides the balm over your lips. you're still staring at him, quietly, unmoving, but your eyes are locked onto him. he thinks, for a moment, that he quite likes you this way; only looking at him.

"thanks..." though you sound confused, dazai doesn't try to explain himself. instead, he's waiting for you to say something. waiting for you to awkwardly ask him to not to that again, politely say something about boundaries and personal space. but you only look at him for a moment longer before directing your gaze back to your work, obviously unsure of what to do.

perhaps a little recklessly, he decides to test the limits again.

"say," he places a hand over yours, stopping you from typing, "about your friend in the special division..."

your eyes light up as you turn to face him, "oh!," you mention a name dazai can't be bothered to remember—he knows the loser's face, anyway, "he was the one who got me a job here, actually. do you know him, dazai?"

he inhales deeply and then sighs, as though he was gathering up the courage to tell you something. your interest is obviously piqued, as you completely move your hands away from the keyboard.

"well ango mentioned," you'd recognize ango's name for sure, "that he was acting a little...strange. sort of jumpy and on edge," dazai pauses for a minute to gauge your reaction, biting back a smile, "i was just wondering if you were aware of anything going on in his personal life?"

"not that i know of, but dazai, why—"

"none of this is really any of my business, but ango sounded really worried about it. and you know, there was some suspicious activity linked back to him as well...missing files and the sort...."

dazai was distracted for a moment, musing on how cute your shocked expression was.

"you don't think...he can't be a spy. he doesn't have any suspicious friends, and he really loves his job. i just can't imagine..."

dazai, with a perfectly feigned expression of concern, places a hand on your shoulder, "for the time being, i think it's best you distance yourself a little. obviously, there'll be an investigation and i'm afraid they might trace things to you. "

"that...makes sense," you whisper.

"i didn't mean to make you worried, [name]. i know you'd never do such a thing, but if he were to frame you or try to drag you into this..."

noticing your distraught expression, dazai tries to apologize to you for ruining your mood. you reassure him after that, though your voice is still shaky and dazai knows you're the one in need of reassurance. but what he's really interested in is whether you'd listen to him or the desperate pleas of your friend. whether you'd trust his words or not.

it's a few days later that you slump over in your seat, looking absolutely devastated.

"he was packing up his things," you manage to say, "and...he kept saying that he was being set up."

dazai nods along as you confide in him your suspicions, not at all suspecting that your friend was telling the truth all along.

"and then," you lower your voice even more, "he kept mentioning you, and said that you were lying."

dazai's blood runs cold, and he rapidly assesses the situation. how could he salvage this? how could he—

"i think my phone's bugged!" you finally declare, much to his surprise, "i mean, how else would he know what we talked about?"

it occurs to dazai then, in a wonderful revelation, that you didn't suspect him, even for a moment. you had immediately assumed it was your so-called friend who was lying. oh, what a marvelous thing trust was. dazai doesn't waste any more time. he offers you some comforting words and asks you if you want to take the day off. in response, you look at him like he just offered you the world. you were so easy to please, he thinks, wouldn't it be just as easy for someone to sweep you up and away from him?

he thinks of suave, charming mafioso and exciting, mysterious strangers. he thinks of seductive smiles and alluring words. there was too much on the line, and you were not yet completely reliant on him. he had his work cut out for him, but he didn't mind. it was always so rewarding, working with you. dazai thinks of all the limits he can breach, all the lines he can cross. he could touch you more, he could plant more seeds of suspicion. he thinks about helping you out first, whisking you out of particularly risky missions, and protecting you from unpleasant people. after that, wouldn't it feel so natural for him to insist he should walk you home?

and would you be so upset if he were to hold you tightly, closely, if it was only because he was hiding the both of you from a pursuer? would you be doubtful the next time he told you that yet another friend was planning something evil, or hesitate when he claimed that a heinous crime was in the area and that you should obviously stay with him?

maybe it was the paranoia that brought him to do this. dazai peers over his glass at your frozen figure by the doorway, wondering what your next words would be.

"dazai," you begin, confusion lingering in your words, "i wasn't expecting to see you here."

he shrugs, swirling the little liquid left in his—your—glass, before leaning forwards and placing it down.

"you weren't at work."

you blink slowly, "is that why you're here?"

"why didn't you come?" the actual question he wants to ask is left unspoken—was it because of me? he's not worried, not as much as he is cautious. it would be a shame to lose everything he's worked on all this time just because he pushed you a little too far.

"i just needed to take my mind off things after everything that's happened. but dazai," the corners of your lips tug downwards ever so slightly, "is that why you're here?"

"i thought," he says, his voice the most serious you've ever heard it, "that something had happened to you. you were worried about being bugged, and then the next day, you just...don't show up."

the hand around your bag strap tightens, and you straighten up.

"i didn't realize," you mutter, "i should have said something."

"you should have," he agrees.

"i'm sorry," your voice trembles ever so slightly, and he delights in the way it wavers. he loves the effect he has on you.

"it's alright," dazai smiles, benevolent and warm, as though you were in the wrong here, and not him, who made himself all too comfortable in a space that wasn't his, "i'm just glad you're safe."

dazai, again, thinks of cruel, brash mafioso and frightening, deceitful strangers. he thinks of mocking snarls and vicious threats. when he sees the way you look at him, hopeful and expectant, he finds that you had come a long, long way already.

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dragonrider9905 · 2 years ago

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Sorry I'm Late

Summery: You go out with your friends for a drink and run into some…..not so nice coworkers. Not having a date on Valentine’s Day was prime targeting fuel. Hunter finally has enough and steps in.

Warnings: Bullying, people making mean remarks, reader has sore feelings.

Hey guys! Wrote this on a whim of an idea. Hope you like it! Snow days are nice because boy do they really encourage me to get some writing in without feeling guilty! I always love hearing from you folks, if you like it, I'd love to hear from you.

You quickly slammed the door to your apartment, sliding down the back of it, to sit on the floor where your energy waned and abandoned you. It was safe and quiet inside. Where there was no one. In your home. You’d just gotten back from the worst Valentine’s Day of your life. It didn’t start out so bad but by the end, you had a headache and close to tears. Your friends who were medics with you at the general station on Coruscant saw your condition and found a secret and non embarrassing way of getting you out of the situation. You purposefully took the afternoon/evening shift as you had no one to spend it with. Foolishly you thought you’d be left alone. Some of your least pleasant patients and coworkers wouldn’t stop bugging you about why you were working, why you were alone and on and on. Luckily your friends came in early, cutting their own special dinner’s short. They took over the rest of your shift discreetly; it was only by thirty minutes but every second spared helped you.

You panted hard and felt your pulse. It pounded in a quick rhythmic sequence. Your legs hurt from running and now felt like stiff noodles, softening in a pot of water.

Ugh, this is stupid.

You shook your head and got up. Another day, another gift.

You shook yourself and ripped your jacket off, shaking the dirt away aggressively as if that would solve your problems. It didn’t, but it made you feel a little better. You kept your head level during the day and didn’t like showing your emotions to people you didn’t trust, but you had to let it out sometimes, somehow.

Normally you were the shoulder to lean on, the smile to lift another up. But every once and a while, that flame flickers and falters, needing more oxygen to keep itself from burning out. Needing life to continue to give you reasons to shine.

You’ve been single for a while. It never bothered you. You never needed a relationship, as you were a person full of exuberance and effervescence—creative and helpful—but sometimes certain days of the year made you lonely, and long for someone special to share your love for life with.

Life Day, New Year’s, Valentine’s Day.

Whatever, I’ll get up and restart tomorrow, just like always.

You wiped your sweaty palms on your pants and straightened your back. You’d take a shower, get some sleep, then your resolve would revive. After all, tomorrow was another day.

— — — —

Two weeks later found you hard at work at your desk, scribbling on flimsy and making notes in datapads. Your friend, Rita, approached you.

“Hey love!” She hugged you from the back, “want to grab a good dinner tonight?”

You squeezed her arm and craned your neck to look at her. You smiled, touched but confused. “I’d love to…but isn’t Echo here? Is he busy? I heard the 501st were here on leave.”

“Yeah…”she blushed and started looking sheepish, “but I thought you’ve been working so hard and haven’t been doing great lately…we should have a girls’ night….without the guys….you know.”

Fives was like a brother to you, and Echo….once you had a tiny crush on him but you, well, *crushed* it when you found out just how far Rita had fallen for him. They were a better fit anyway. Seeing her so happy was enough to make your heart glow with warmth and pride. She was so shy at first and it took a lot of encouragement and nudging on your part to get either of them to make a move to act on their obvious feelings for each other. When the zing finally clicked, Echo and Rita were one of the most adorable couples you’ve ever seen. And they had you to thank for it. Echo now was nothing more than a brother and that was ok. He was with who he was supposed to be with.

You forced a smile. Rita was so sweet and considerate but you couldn’t steal her for the night, not for the short while Echo was stationed there. It would be petty of you.

“Nah, hun, I’ll be alright. We’ll go to 79’s. You should spend as much time with Echo as you can.”

“But—“

“Rita, if you don’t comm him, I will do it myself and he’ll wonder just why you didn’t do it yourself and give him a mini heart attack thinking something bad happened to you. You don’t want to do that to Echo now do you? I’ll see if Fives and Lil want to come too. I think our bros Rex and Cody are busy—they came through here not long ago with the kind of look on their face that could curdle milk—probably reports from the latest mission. I’ve been hearing it was a doozy. But Nova and Stella might come. Where the 501st is, the 212th usually isn’t that far away.”

“Great! I still think you should wear the red dress though! You look lovely in it.”

“I’ll think about it.”

— — — —

Needless to say, you wore the red dress. It was between a vibrant and deep red. It not only made Rita happy—she initially talked you into getting it—but it made you happy as well. Red was always your color. You looked good in it. It made you feel like it supplied the confidence you lacked. The skirt of the dress went down to your shins, allowing the black glittering heels that wrapped around your ankles to show themselves off. The neckline rose high into a halter top, with which you wore a black scarf to complete the look. It was so flowy that when you walked, it swayed mesmerizing like you were wading through water.

Though you weren’t meeting anyone didn’t mean you couldn’t dress up a little.

You drove your own speeder. You only intended on having one drink anyway. Your self imposed rule in case you’d be unexpectedly called to medical. You arrived at 79’s and waited on the platform near the door.

“Hey, there’s one of my favorite medics!”

You turned around to see Fives bound toward you and wrapped you in a hug.

“Hey! Glad you’re back in one piece!”

“Hey there, Doc.”

“Echo!” You gave him a hug as well. You could see a little nervousness in his smile.

“Your first time seeing Rita since you got back?”

“Yeah, do I look alright?”

You didn’t get to answer. Nova from the 212th called out to you next.

“Hey this was a great idea. Just wait until you hear the crazy stories we have from this mission.”

“They never disappoint.” You grinned.

“Yeah, but sometimes I wonder if he’s making some of it up.” Echo raised an eyebrow.

“Think what you want, gents. It all happened. It’s real as I’m standing there.”

The small group of you continued to converse until Rita, Lil and Stella showed up. The boys let you girls gush over each other’s fashion choices in silence before entering the bar. The place was crowded and noisy like usual but you were feeling happy and hopeful tonight. The air was clear, your friends were home and together and a night of fun was ahead of you!

The bar was busy, per usual, and you made your way back to a circular unoccupied table, trying to block out the noise and the music that buzzed all around you. You were surprised you were able to find a table to seat your large group so easily, as you had to push past groups of people just to get there.

“Guess I forgot the 104th was here too. I should have made a reservation or something.”

“It all worked out!” Rita kissed your cheek. “We always find a way anyway. A little crowd couldn’t stop us.”

Each person claimed their seats. Rita sat next to you and Echo sat next to her. Then Fives took his place and Lil next to him. Stella sat next to Lil and Nova was between the two of you. The music was loud and the crowd seemed energized and alive.

“Sure is good to be home!” Fives sighed and relaxed into his seat.

“Say, Rita, would you care for a dance?” Echo asked, a bold grin on his face despite sounding a little shy.

“I’d love to!”

Echo stood up and held his hand out for Rita to take, seeing only each other.

“Sure, just abandon us like that.” Fives rolled his eyes. “We’ll order then dance. Sound good, Lil?”

Lil winked “I don’t think he heard you. I’m famished anyway. Double shifts leave me hungry!”

The group laughed and chatted a little while longer until another group made its way into the bar, and when they spotted you, they made their way toward your table. Why did they have to show up? Your annoying coworkers just couldn’t get enough of their mean games. You automatically tensed, and subconsciously knew the others were doing the same.

You swirled the contents of your drink, frowning at it in a concentrated stare, thinking that if you focused hard enough, maybe it would combust and your ‘companions’ would get the idea to back off.

— — — —

Hunter was sitting in “the Batch’s booth” with his squad when you walked in. Conveniently, you and your group of jovial friends sat at a round table a little distance away. He’d cast glances your way throughout the night, with a sparkle in his eye and a smile on his lips. Seeing you happy made him happy.

He didn’t know you personally but he knew your face. You were the nurse that patched Wrecker up after he’d gotten injured. Wrecker afterwards would comment how kind you were to him, and that you were probably the nicest person in the GAR; Hunter kicked himself for not talking to you. He wanted to but Crosshair was injured too, and he was giving his nurse a very difficult time. Hunter had to intervene for his own sanity as well as hers (she was increasingly getting annoyed and that wasn’t making his job any easier either). As a result, he never got to talk to you. He wanted to at least to thank you for taking such good care of his brother, but circumstances never played in his favor. Before he knew it, he and his squad had to leave Coruscant on another mission.

And he hadn’t said one word to you.

“You’re staring.”

“What?”

Hunter turned to look at Crosshair. He had the most absurd smile on his lips.

“It’s impolite.”

Hunter rolled his eyes.

“You should talk to her. You got the chance.”

“She’s sitting at a table of couples. There is no way she’s not with someone. He’s probably just not here yet. It would be wrong of me to…”

That’s when the other group walked in and the shift in mood at the table changed. He didn’t have to look over to feel the tense waves falling off all the individuals. He tightened his grip on his glass and stared down at its contents, focusing on the conversation happening a few tables down. He went from relaxed to stiff in milliseconds.

He heard every single hurtful thing fall out of their mouths in a public humiliation.

“You know, I still can’t believe she didn’t have a date on Valentine’s Day.”

“Really? I thought it made perfect sense. She’s nothing incredible you know. That fake act you play with the patients is repugnant. You think she does it to see if she can lure one of them?”

“Why are you so dressed up tonight? Not like you’re meeting anyone.”

“Well, maybe she’s hoping someone will buy her a drink as nothing else seems to last.”

Hunter cast a glance at you; you were trying to remain calm and unreactive, but tears gathered in your eyes anyway. Your shoulders slouched, tired like, lips in a firm line and you were staring so hard at your glass he was surprised it didn’t shatter. He looked at the faces of the others, clearly having too much fun at your expense.

You were always vocal on other’s defense. He’d heard stories from the 212th troopers you took care of in the same explosion that hurt Wrecker. They’d been injured multiple times and seemed to know you more personally, always ending up in your ward. You demanded that they were treated like people, stopped other patients from name calling the clones and got them little comforts. So it surprised him to see you sitting there, wishing you’d disappear instead of saying something.

Perhaps this was too often of an occurrence that you didn’t even want to fight back? Another shocker was that no one else at the table intervened. He couldn’t get it. Maybe there was more he didn’t know though. Perhaps their silence was a way of defending you. Hunter had noticed Nova from the 212th there with his girl—he was a good man. He wouldn’t let this shit slide if he thought talking would help. He peaked at him too and saw Nova throwing daggers with his eyes. The same look was reflected in the other trooper sitting at the table. Though Hunter didn’t know him, he seemed like a solid dude.

Hunter turned and scowled down at his drink. Blood boiling with anger. He looked at his batchmates. Wrecker was poking fun at Tech and Tech retaliated with a shove, trying to focus on whatever displayed on his pad. Crosshair was the only one seeming to be aware of the shift that took over him.

“What do you hear?’

“Is this a little pity party for her because she missed out?”

Hunter had had enough. He downed his drink and stood quickly.

“I’ll be back.”

He walked around your table the long way so he wouldn’t be seen.

— — — —

The mean medics laughed menacely, holding onto their chests and shedding tears at the jokes they threw at you. The lump in your throat threatening to force a choked sob out. The group then was broken up by a new man that entered the crowd.

“Hey Cyare, sorry I’m late.” a deep, brusque voice gently called close to you. You turned around to see a clone in dark gray armor make his way towards your table with a gentle, tired smile. He looked a little familiar to you but you couldn’t place when or where. What you did know was that you had no idea who he was, yet he was calling you his sweetheart. Maybe this was part of the joke, or it could be an honest mistake.

He pulled up a chair close to yours and put his hand on yours for a moment before taking them away and resting his arm behind you on the seat. “I know I missed our date on Valentine’s day but General Kenobi’s plan ended up backfiring and it was a mess. We had to re-route and pull them out of the jam. I’m so sorry. Thanks for meeting with me tonight. So happy you had the night off.”

“Well, uh, um….” Your eyes widened and you felt confused. Was this man mixing you up for someone else? You started to look around to see if you could find who he initially meant the compliment for when you caught Nova’s expression out of the corner of your eye. He seemed delighted to see the trooper. The strange man spoke first.

“How’s it going, Nova. Good to see you here!”

“Heeeyyy Hunter man! What you boys did was totally amazing. Thanks for the save again.” Nova smiled his impish smile, the one he had when planning something mischievous. He gave you a pointed look which somehow comforted you. You were still confused but now you were curious. If Nova knew the man and trusted him…you decided to play along. You gave the dark haired man a big, gracious smile not needing to fake the blush that came with it. You took in his features. He was quite handsome, a little tired and dirty—must have just gotten back from his mission—and well poised. Your eyes glanced up at the red bandanna he was wearing—it was the same color as your dress. For some reason, it made you want to laugh. It was too perfect. You matched your faux date. You shook your head.

“I’m glad you’re safe.” Your voice sounded small, nothing else coming to mind.

“Wait….you’re dating THE sergeant of Clone Force 99?! Really? You?”

Clone Force 99. Yeah, you knew who he was. You helped a batchmate of his not too long ago. Poor guy was stressed dealing with his other injured batchmate and his nurse. You heard all about the cranky sniper and often saw the leader mediating between the marksman and your fellow medic. You’d wanted to offer some sort of encouragement or comfort to him. He seemed tired. But you were overrun with patients…

“Why? Don’t think we’re a good fit?” Hunter raised an eyebrow with a frown, crossing his arms. The deadpan could have convinced anyone you two were together. The looks your girlfriends were sending you….seemed like even they half believed him. Which was ridiculous. They knew you were single.

The others looked horrified at offending him. They shifted uncomfortably and exchanged worried looks with each other.

It was so comical in your mind that this complete stranger’s protective concern was being bought by everyone at the table, you had to try to school your face from laughing. The way he said it sounded so personal, he could have been your boyfriend.

A smirk still found its way there, and Hunter winked at you. The delight at everyone’s astonishment and the humor of the situation was too much. A chuckle bubbled up anyway and your shoulders started shaking.

“Forget about them. Let’s dance, Cyare. I’ve missed you.” Hunter quickly spirited you away from the table and toward the dance floor, pretending not to be aware of the stares that followed you.

Luckily the dance floor was crowded enough to afford you some privacy of the searching eyes and Hunter let his guard down.

A shadow of hesitation crossed his face. “Is this alright?” You smiled and nodded. The slight concern of confusion still present. You could tell he wanted to be respectful of you and not put you in a position you didn’t want to be, so you took his hands, placing one on your waist and gripped the other with firm reassurance.

Confidence restored, he smiled. And that melted your heart to butter.

The music was a sweet, slower one, allowing the two of you to talk.

Hunter took a deep breath. He seemed nervous all of a sudden. “So, I should apologize first. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all…my name is Hunter by the way.”

“No, you didn’t…you have nothing to apologize for; but can I ask you why? Was there some sort of a joke about this?” You started to look over his shoulder to see if you could spot anyone laughing, but he stopped abruptly at your question which forced you to look at him. Shock was written all over his face. He shook his head and resumed dancing. You started to feel guilty at assuming something bad about his kind act.

“I’m sorry if it seemed like a prank…truthfully, I overheard your colleagues and I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“Ah, so you felt sorry for me.”

“Yes and no. I’ve seen you around for a bit but never got the chance or the nerve to approach you. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while. To be honest, I thought you were waiting for someone, otherwise I would have, maybe,” he chuckled shyly, “asked you to dance earlier. Hearing that,” his face scrunched in anger and he went to continue but you broke in.

“I wanted to talk to you too.” you grinned.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I remember you boys from the hospital. I’m sorry everything was such a headache for you…the nurse you got was really inexperienced and I heard about all the problems you had…that battle was just so…I had so many patients.” You trailed off.

“Wait…didn’t you just come in…how on earth did you know…” confusion crossed your brow and he laughed.

“No, I’ve been sitting in the corner booth over there,” he indicated with a nod to the shadowed table. You saw a strange set of three clones gathered around, leaning over the barrier and watching you both intently, smiles and giggles on their faces. The goggled one held up a datapad almost as if filming the two of you, the big one who you remembered helping a little bit ago held up two large thumbs up, while the gray haired one raised his glass with a nod and a smirk.

“Idiots.” Hunter shook his head. You tried to follow Hunter’s gaze and saw him looking at reflective glass. You presumed he saw their reactions. That was impressive. Seeing the embarrassment on his face made you laugh. He lightened up a bit seeing as you took no offense to his brothers’ tomfoolery.

“They seem encouraging.”

“You have no idea.”

“How on earth could you hear what we were talking about all the way from over there! This bar is so noisy…”

“Well, my brothers and I are enhanced…I have enhanced senses…like right now I can tell your heart is beating abnormally fast.” You looked down with a breathless blush creeping onto your cheeks and down your neck, biting your lip, “do you need to stop?”

His voice was kind and when you had the courage to return his gaze, you saw nothing but gentle concern.

“Um, sure.”

“I’ll get you some water. Want to meet the Batchers?...well officially, that is?”

“I’d love to know the personalities behind the men on the stretchers.” You shrugged but smiled mirthfully. “Why not!”

The color returned to your face in a healthy way which made Hunter relax. He dropped the dancing position but took your hand in his and guided you with ease through the crowd. He made a pit stop at the bar and got the promised refreshment then led you to the final destination.

His hand in yours felt so natural, you didn’t want him to let go.

— — — —

“Good job, Sarge! You finally talked to her! Proud of ya!” Wrecker exclaimed when you were within earshot.

“Tech, what are you doing?” Hunter asked with a tired sigh, seeing his brother still holding the datapad at a suspicious angle.

“I am trying to see what color dress Miss Medic looks good in. The red is too perfect and Cody will think that we set this up. In order for us to win the bet, it needs to look as inconspicuous as it really was. Her red matching yours is a little too much to be coincidental.”

“But it was coincidental! And woah woah woah, what do you mean bet? With Cody?”

To Hunter’s surprise, your laugh came from the gut, ringing out loud and clear.

“Cody, as in, THE Commander Cody?”

“Why yes, who else would I mean?”

“I think you’d better keep the red. He knows how much I adore the color. Me wearing yellow isn’t going to convince him.”

Tech cocked his head to the left.

“You know the Commander?”

“Very, very well.” You crossed your arms with a smirk on your face. “I used to be his head medic before I trained Patches.”

“You trained that menace of a man?” Crosshair asked indignantly.

“Everything he knows. If you’re referring to his attitude, medics aren’t known for being nice, especially with fussy patients.”

“Ha, but you are!” Wrecker punched your shoulder.

“But…you guys bet on this?” Hunter broke in incredulous, not letting go of the previous topic.

“Well, yes. Cody bet that you wouldn’t get the nerve to talk to her while on leave so naturally we countered him.” Tech shrugged. “We couldn’t tell you as that would make it unfair and biased depending on what you decided. You could have decided to spite one of us and react accordingly, skewing the results.”

Hunter was rubbing circles on his forehead in despair, mumbling something in Mando’a.

“Hey,” Crosshair snapped, “I heard that.”

You realized Hunter had never let go of your hand all the while. You moved your fingers into a flex to get him to relax his hand. Hunter looked down, equally surprised he’d never let go, and started to let go of your hand with a small ‘sorry’ when you surprised him again by interlocking your fingers and giving him an encouraging squeeze.

Tech’s datapad beeped.

“Technically, neither of us still won, as Cody just pointed out to me. Hunter did talk to her but didn’t officially ask her out. I do believe that was part of the double or nothing bet. Seeing as how this is a fake date…I don’t know if that counts.”

Hunter’s face was burning a deeper red than his bandanna. He shut his eyes to center himself. You leaned against his arm, which caused him to look down at you.

“What do you say…” your throat squeezed with soreness. Your eyes flitted shyly between him and the ground. You’ve never done what you were going to do now… “What do you say about rectifying that? A real date, I mean…”

Hunter’s features went from vexed to relieved, a chuckle forming on his lips. He brought your hands together and ran his thumbs over the backs of them. He said your name softly.

“I’d be honored if you’d accompany me tomorrow on a date…a real date.”

“I really accept.”

You ignored the whoop of the troopers in front of you and vaguely thought you could hear quiet clapping from the round table a few feet away.

Tag requests: : @ttzamara @smolbendyhorn

#the bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #reader insert #hunter x reader #hunter and you #hunter x fem!reader

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arashrine · 2 years ago

Note

Helloooo!! I was wondering if anytime soon u we’re gonna write part two for “ I still want to be your favorite boy” or just whenever u can pls ^^

“I still want to be your favorite boy” PT.2

Honestly I forgot someone on earth is reading my fanfic.

Probably going to start writing again soon idk though my time is very limited,can't have a second for myself smh,happy ramadhan for those who's celebrating!

(im thinking of writing for other fandom as bsd and obey me tbh)

CW/TW: jealousy, possible unrequited love

He then quickly flee away from the library,his heart aches the way it never does,his wrath and envy filling ever single inch of his body. What does that guy has that he doesn't!? (Height lmao),he know he's the reason you guys broke up but seeing you spend another of your sweet smile and giggle with everyone else but him.. hurt him in the deepest part of his soul. He took a deep breath of fresh air before letting it out again. You're really the one for him,no matter how popular and how many other girl that has a crush and wanted him,they all will never look at him,treat him or comfort him the way you did. They all didn't have the special place in his heart,unlike you who's his whole heart will always aches in unknown warm feeling for.

That's it, he's going to make this up to you. It was still a club time.. almost home,he make sure to slip a letter of invitation to meet him at you both class after club time into your locker. To be honest,he never could focus whenever subject come. His gaze will make it way to you,and always you,the way your hair shine,the way your lips plump always look so nice to kiss,the way your voice rang around his mind all the time.. he was overwhelmed for the yearnings and envy feeling,he was overwhelmed that he doesn't get any of your attention anymore since the day you broke up..

The time to met up and resolve the problem finally came,to his suprise you're already there before he did. You sat on a table with your gaze turn down and a gleam of smile was painted on your face.

"you're here,i didn't expect you to come." Scara stated,as he look up to your face, walking in to the classroom, you seem to not face his gaze,rather.. you found Yourself avoiding it.

"you said you wanted to talk about something important, perhaps,Childe was still busy with his club for a second that he can't drive me home yet."scaramouche groans as he heard the name childe fall down your mouth,this is the only moment where he would admit he's jealous, he's full of jealousy,envy,and wrath knowing Childe will drive you home today,what? Are you both a thing or something? Did you not know he never treat girl seriously!?

"yeah I did,I wanna know why are you hanging out with Childe."he slams his hand on the table you're sitting on,making an expected loud noise across the quiet classroom. The distance between you both are just a matter of height,you just hum in response

"why not? Sure he might just fool with me,but- but he give me a sense of comfort.. sure if you don't want me to hang with him I can hang with someone else,aether,Xiao or heizhou from class 3-A always willing to hang with me."his envy filled more and more it's like he can explode at any moment now.. he move his face an inch closer,now your gaze and his glaze met,your eyes gleam in something almost like sorrow and sadness,his eyes glean in something one might say is loneliness as wind sweep softly through your hair

"no,won't you take the hint? I'm jealous! Damnit! I can't bear you with other person! I know I'm the reason we broke up but- but.."his words got caught in his tongue.. he can't focus now the way you look at him,he see the way your eyes gleam in sorrow and sadness all because of him.. the beautiful sight of you Infront of him,he may achieve your figure Infront of him,but he will never achieve your heart.

"but what? You've broke me in the way I never feel,I trust you with my full heart,i trust you to not hurt me like my previous relationship went.. I don't understand you.."you spoke, it sound like.. you're in the verge of tears? And he's know he's the cause of it,you cry day and night because of him, your sleeping schedule got bother by him,heck even your score in exam is going down after he broke up With you!

"b-but listen to me [Y/N]! I'm willing to change.. I'm willing to do anything-"he said, groggily but bluntly,very out of character of him.. he's usually very confident.. he stood for who he is but now.. he's just so vulnerable. Perhaps it's the pressure? Or was it the the thought of not owning you again?

"I'm sorry,Kuni, you're just not the one for me"and once again,the wind sweep your hair harsher than last time,you smiled softly at him as you placed your gaze at his almost teary and pleading eyes.. before you stood up from the table

And just like that you leave the room,running toward a tall slither figure with an orange hair.. perhaps,Scara was left in silence.. felt like his heart was just pounding too hard and it's broke just like that. Perhaps this is really the price of his sins..

If I'm sad today everyone has to be sad idc

#genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #fiction #genshin angst #childe #childe x reader #genshin drabbles #scaramouche angst #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin impact angst

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veilder · 4 years ago

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"I thought you left" "Nope, just making pancakes" - Convin

Okay, so, I love this prompt and I promised I'd try to write it so... I actually did this last week at like 2 am and have been too busy to edit it until now. But I'm kinda sick of trying to puzzle it out so just take it please, omg.

(Prompt from this post if anyone's curious.)

Stay

The sun was already high in the sky when Gavin finally blinked awake. He could tell because there was one fuckin sliver of window he could never manage to cover with the blackout curtains hanging up in his bedroom and the goddamn sun was shining right in his fuckin eyes, Jesus Christ! With a groan, he rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut in a futile attempt to go back to sleep. But even that small burst of cognizance had its consequences. Gavin could feel the awareness creeping in fast, God fuckin dammit. Was a little shut-eye too much to ask for? But there was something... Something niggling at the back of his mind. It itched at instincts well-honed by over a decade on the force and not even his most earnest desire to return to oblivion could keep it at bay. Restlessly, Gavin huffed out a disgruntled sigh as he kicked at the covers, frustrated despite himself at being roused after the night he’d had— Like a shock passing through his body, Gavin’s eyes snapped open, memories of the previous evening flashing through is mind. But just as readily, a heaviness settling deep in his heart as he took in the other side of the bed. The sheets were mussed and the pillow indented, a clear sign of its former occupant. Evidence as plain as day told Gavin that last night hadn’t been some delusion or dream. And yet… He reached out a hand, an involuntary, desperate motion, tracing the outline where his partner had lain. Where Connor had lain. But just as he’d feared, the sheets were cold. They matched the ice filling his heart. Slowly shuffling upright, Gavin leaned back against the headboard as memories of the previous day filled his waking mind. Flashes of the case he and Connor had worked together rushed by in a flurry. The tip-off for the perp they’d been tracking for weeks and the reckless chase that followed. The abandoned warehouse. The shootout. Vivid Thirium across dirty concrete. Connor had taken a bullet for him. Gavin remembered staring up into those brown eyes, watching as a splatter of blue burst from his chest. "I'm fine," Connor had said, "the bullet didn't nick anything important." And even though the android had gotten right back up and proceeded to almost single-handedly take down the rest of the hostiles attacking them, it was still a moment Gavin knew would haunt him for a long-ass time. Shit was enough to give him nightmares. It did give him nightmares, in fact. Which is how the two of them had ended up back here. In Gavin's apartment. Together. Because after that little fiasco, after the gang had been arrested and the hostages recovered and both he and Connor had been checked over by a medic and technician respectively, it still left the job far from complete. Needless to say, Gavin had eventually nodded off at his desk after a long night of interrogation and paperwork, the rushes of adrenaline and fear more than even his beloved coffee could contend with. He only meant to rest his eyes for a moment. Just a moment and then he'd finish up. But when he awoke some indeterminate time later, it was to his own voice screaming, Connor's name upon his lips, Connor's blue blood scattered across the darkest corners of his mind, Connor's hand upon his shoulder jostling him awake. The android’s LED was flashing a violent red as he stared Gavin down, his brown eyes wide with worry. Gavin couldn't help but cling to him, something twisting, clenching in his heart and demanding he hold on tightly. From there, things had passed in a blur, though he remembered Fowler's imposing figure ordering the both of them to take the next few days off. Too tired and distressed to argue, Gavin agreed immediately, only too glad to get the fuck out of there and go home. And Connor? Connor insisted he drive Gavin home. Connor insisted he make sure Gavin got to his door. Connor insisted that he get Gavin to his bed. And Gavin, still clinging to the android with every last bit of his flagging strength, let him. Over and over he let the android steer him along, trusting a partner fully for the first time in... For the first time

in far too long. And when Gavin had finally settled, comfortable yet shivering in his too-large bed, he took a moment to insist right back. "Stay," he'd said. One word. One plea. A lifetime of wanting to not be alone wrapped up in a single syllable. A few short weeks of shifting worldviews and growing affections cradled in four letters. A wealth of experience in loss stealthily couched within a breath. Gavin insisted. And Connor stayed. Or, at least Gavin thought he had. Because here and now, in the stupidly bright light of day, he was alone again. Like always. He didn't know why he'd expected otherwise. He really should've known better. After all, why would Connor want to hang around here? Especially after his fuckin embarrassing little act last night, fuck. He probably had loads of things to do. Important... android things... People to meet. Places to be. He wouldn't waste his entire day sitting around in Gavin's shitty apartment while he slept like a log. How fuckin stupid would that be? It didn't mean anything. Gavin told himself this over and over again as he shifted, swinging his legs out from under the covers and onto the floor. Just because they could be considered friends now didn't mean Connor had to drop everything for him. Just because he'd begging him to stay didn't mean Connor owed him anything. He'd probably felt uncomfortable as hell last night, what with Gavin whining and bitching at him like a fuckin child. Probably said what he could to mollify him before getting the hell out of Dodge. Gavin couldn't even blame him for that. Fuck, Connor'd just had emergency maintenance done! Because of Gavin! Like hell he'd want some handsy human all over him for ten straight hours, Jesus Christ. It didn't mean anything. Even if he wished it did. His stomach picked that moment to rumble, thankfully interrupting his little pity-party. Thank fuck. It was too early in the morning (or afternoon technically) to be crying over stupid shit. He was probably just hungry. Yeah, that's it. He's all fuckin emotional cause he hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours. It didn't matter that Connor fucked off ASAP, Gavin could get some waffles delivered. Waffles never fuckin betrayed him. He could trust waffles. With newfound resolve, Gavin stood, fumbling for his phone on the nightstand before scrolling through his food delivery aps to see if he could get waffles from anywhere at two in the fuckin afternoon. With heavy tread he stepped out into the hallway, mouth already watering at the prospect and stomach rumbling again in agreement. Fuck, he could almost smell them already. Wait. No, he can smell them? What the fuck?! Before Gavin could do anything more but stand there in his pajamas, wide-eyed and mystified, a figure stepped into view. Instinctively, Gavin's heart raced, adrenaline flooding his veins as the threat of a home invader cycled through his brain. In that fraction of a second, he was prepared to dive into an all-out brawl with the bastard. He was not in the mood for this shit! But then said bastard's lips quirked into a dazzling grin and a brown-eyed gaze sent Gavin reeling in disbelief. While his brain was preoccupied with keeping his suddenly-weak legs standing, his idiot mouth opened up on it's own: "I thought you left,” he said, choking on his disbelief. Connor (because of course it was Connor) only quirked his head to the side in that cute way he does, looking for all the world like the dogs he so adored. His LED flashed a single, swirling yellow before settling back to blue and he said, "No, I was just making pancakes. I thought perhaps you might be hungry." A strange hesitance entered his voice, some dour note falling across his features. "Did you want me to leave?" "No!" Gavin blurted out in a moronic, high-pitched squeak because again, he was nothing if not an idiot. (And one destined to embarrass himself at every possible moment at that.) Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I mean, you can do whatever you want. Doesn’t matter to me." (He's lying through his teeth. It obviously did matter to him. It

mattered a huge fuckin deal!) Connor blinked at him, the only sign of the awkward atmosphere between them the flashing colors at his temple. "Your words run contrary to both your body language and your involuntary actions," he said, "And they are a direct counterpoint to your request last night." Gavin fidgeted, knowing the damn android was right but never in a million years wanting to admit it. "Stop analyzing me, dipshit, it's too early for this." Finally, Connor's face relaxes a bit, a smile smile stealing across his lips. "It is two thirty-three in the afternoon, Gavin. Far from early." "Oh, can it, Poindexter! You know what I mean!" With a huff, Gavin moves forward, sidling past his annoying house guest. "What was that about pancakes?" Connor beams at him as the two of them enter the kitchen. "Ah yes. I determined that you would be hungry after going so long without food. I managed to make due with your atrocious grocery selection and have prioritized calories over nutrition for the time being. But just this once.” While Connor seemed dead set on critiquing the apparently-lackluster pantry he’d been forced to bravely overcome, Gavin only had eyes for the heaping pile of flapjacks sitting at his breakfast nook, fluffy and golden brown and still steaming. Fresh off the griddle, holy shit. How did he…? Despite his hunger, Gavin looked over at Connor questioningly. It was almost like the android could read his mind (which was a scary fucking thought) as he answered his unspoken query immediately: "I calculated your sleep cycle based off the Circadian rhythms I observed during your convalescence. I'm glad I timed it right. I wanted you to enjoy your breakfast." "It's past 2 pm," Gavin retorted with a smirk, "can't be breakfast now, hotshot." Connor's answering smile made Gavin want to melt into a puddle and he quickly turned away, staring at said breakfast with a helpless desperation. "Indeed," the android said, heedless of his partner's distress. "Regardless of the time of day, I wanted you to enjoy your meal, nonetheless." And something more vulnerable finally stole into his voice then, the merest shadow of his quiet pleas from the night before. "I thought, perhaps, you might consider them an offering." Gavin tore his gaze away from his not-breakfast then, looking up at his partner with enough confusion to drive out all other complicated emotions. "What offering? What the fuck are you talking about, tincan?" And now Connor was the one to look away. "It's just that..." He drew in a deep breath (though Gavin knew it was only him mimicking humans. Fucker didn't actually need to breathe) and continued, "yesterday... Yesterday frightened me. When I saw that gunman aiming at you, I—" He clenched his eyes shut, LED flashing a dangerous red. "In that moment, I preconstructed a multitude of outcomes, many of them where you did not survive. In which that bullet found its mark. And the thought of it, Gavin!" he wails. "I couldn't—! The thought was unbearable! And so I calculated the best result. And I determined my course of action. And you lived. You lived. And I thought that would be the end of it. But..." Finally, Connor looked up, his eyes meeting Gavin's head-on once more. "It was like a glitch. The preconstruction, it— It kept resurfacing again and again and again, every time you were out of my sight. And I... I disliked the feeling immensely. I think perhaps I hated it, even. And so I did my best to linger. I didn't want to leave you. Even though I knew you were safe, I still... It was so irrational but I still wanted to verify that you were okay. I still do." Before them the pancakes were growing cold, but neither paid them any mind. Connor looked away again, eyes shut. "I thought that, perhaps you had figured this much out last night. Which is why you asked me to stay. Because we are friends now and that's what friends do. But I worried that I may have... forced the issue... in my desperation. And I-I... I wanted to do something for you in return for your generosity." Looking down at the cooling

breakfast, Connor's face fell further. "I know it's not much but I thought at least—" Gavin had heard enough. "Okay, okay, okay, hold the fuck up, dumbass!" He stood, breakfast forgotten, and approached the shocked android with a fierce determination. Jabbing a finger directly into Connor's chest, he stated as sternly as he could, "You don't owe me a goddamn thing! For fuck's sake, Connor! You fuckin saved my goddamn life yesterday! You took a fuckin bullet for me! And even after that, you still fuckin stayed with me and made sure I got home safe!" A growl rumbled through his chest as Gavin poked Connor again. "I was having a fuckin nightmare about you dying! When you woke me up in the precinct! Did you know that?!" Connor shook his head but Gavin only poked him a third time, this time with much less force. He left his hand there, palm splayed across where his heart would be were he human. "That shit kept replaying for me, too. Over and over again. So I get it. I get wanting to 'verify.' I was doing the same thing. That's why I asked you to stay. Because I fuckin—! I wanted you here, okay?! Because the idea that you were hurt or injured or fuckin dead had me panicking!" He brought his other arm up now, slinging it around Connor's broad shoulders in a half-embrace, and leaned in, burying his face in the android's neck. "That shit's unbearable to me, too, tincan. Thinking of this fuckin trash heap of a world without you in it is—" He sucked in a breath. "Can't stand the thought." They stood there for what felt like an eternity (though it was probably only a few seconds) before slowly—tentatively—Connor brought his own arms up to squeeze around Gavin. He held him with a brittle tenderness, his touch light and careful as if he was afraid Gavin might break. And fuck, maybe he would. Maybe Connor could shatter him into a hundred-thousand little pieces. But shit, he'd take it. Because Gavin would never have been in this situation in the first place if Connor hadn't broken right through his walls first, scattering him and leaving him adrift in a strange, new world. And when he’d managed to build himself back up, it was into something—someone—stronger. Someone who could look at the world and see progress instead of oppression, opportunity instead of limitations, people instead of just machines. Connor had shattered his body once before down in the archives. He'd shattered his mind too over these last few months. It’d only make sense for him to shatter his heart as well. But he didn't. He wouldn't. And as Connor held him like a thing to be cherished, Gavin felt again that perhaps he'd been right last night. Perhaps this was a partner he could trust. A partner who could trust him, too. And perhaps he would— "Stay."

_____________

Bonus:

Connor: "Okay, but only if you eat your pancakes. I didn't download an entire cooking catalogue for you to let them go to waste, Gavin." Gavin: "Fuckin bite me, we're having a moment here." Connor: "Is your stomach rumbling part of that moment?" Gavin: "God fucking dammit, I fuckin hate you." Connor: ^_^ "False!" Gavin: "Fuck!"

And they lived happily ever after. ♥

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thedragonnerd · 4 years ago

Text

my soul may be damned, but my heart is still yours

(Concept Art AU 1/2)

Raya meets Namaari when she is seven years old, at her first Council of the Five meeting. Her Ma has recently passed, and Ba is reluctant to let her out of his sight, so he decides last-minute that she will accompany him to Fang on their diplomatic mission.

‘The lands of Kumandra may have been divided for 500 years,’ he tells her as they set out for their neighbour’s land, a large group of Royal soldiers surrounding them. ‘But the Council of the Five has ensured for centuries that trade and diplomatic discussions are still carried out, so that our lands do not fall into war and our people are protected. You are Heart’s Princess, and one day, these meetings will be yours to attend.’

To her disgust, Raya is provided a bodyguard for protection; this may be a mission of peace, but clearly Ba does not trust those no-good binturis in Fang even so. She resigns herself to an incredibly boring three days, where her father will talk with other adults for endless hours, and she is sat alone in a corner…But then, when they arrive in Fang and are greeted by the host delegation, she spies another small girl around her own age, peering out from around Chief Virana’s legs.

‘I’m Raya,’ she says, as soon as the adults are distracted. The girl gives her a small wave.

‘Namaari, Princess of Fang,’ she introduces herself. Around her neck lies a pendant in the shape of a dragon – Sisu, to be precise. Raya decides in that instant that her and Namaari will be best friends.

Indeed, they spend the first hours of the day in deep discussion. Namaari has been attending these Council meetings since she was five years old, and she’s a useful source of information, such as when the best food is brought out, or when the adults are too busy to notice small children sneaking away. At dinner later that evening, Raya slips handfuls of sweet desserts into her pockets, and grabs Namaari’s hand, ducking through the legs of everyone around them in order to lose her bodyguard. They sit in a dark corner and eat their stolen treats, laughing over silly jokes and their combined love of Sisu and all things dragons.

Being the Princess of the land, Namaari also knows amazing places to visit, and even better places to hide from the adults. Instead of three dull days, Raya spends them all with her new friend, talking, playing with serlot kittens, or getting into all sorts of mischief.

She can’t help but feel upset when it is time to return home.

‘See you next year in Heart?’ Namaari asks shyly, when Raya’s delegation is about to leave. Raya beams at her, scooping her into a hug before running after Ba.

They don’t speak in the interim year. Although Raya feels like Fang is now the land of new friends rather than binturis, the political situation is far more complicated than two young girls wanting to talk.

Raya thinks about Namaari often though, and when the first Council parties begin to arrive at Heart’s palace, she half leans out the window to see if she can catch sight of the other girl. Her frustration mounts as Spine and Talon are greeted by Ba, and then she sees in the distance the shining white of Fang’s uniforms, and almost falls out the window in her haste to go down to meet them.

She’s worried that Namaari might not remember her, or that their brief friendship didn’t mean the same thing. But as soon as she enters the courtyard, Namaari is already waving her over to say hello.

Later on, they are sat in Raya’s bedroom, talking non-stop until their voices start to crack, when Namaari pulls a small package out of a pocket, and thrusts it towards Raya.

‘A gift for the Heart Princess,’ she says, a light dusting of red across her cheeks. Raya takes it reverentially, and opens it to find a golden dragon pendant, with a shining blue stone in its center.

‘I love it,’ she clutches it in her hand for a moment, and then eagerly hangs it around her neck.

‘It’s so we can be matching forever,’ Namaari reminds her, holding up her own pendant.

Raya wears the pendant always. After the last Council meeting, her Ba and Chief Virana had agreed to allow letters to be passed back and forth between their daughters, and so Raya writes diligently to Namaari at least once a week, telling her of her lessons and training, of tasty food she’s enjoyed, of silly things Ba has said or done. It’s difficult to make friends as Princess, and the other children are wary of her when she wants to join their games, too concerned about causing offence by mistake. It seems to be similar for Namaari, from what Raya can glean from her own letters, and so they share their thoughts with each other instead, pouring out their young hearts in their correspondence.

Their meetings in Spine, Talon and Tail are similar as before. Raya is annoyed to see that Namaari is growing at a much faster pace, but besides that, it is wonderful to be able to hug her friend and hear her voice. And in the months between the Council meetings, they continue their letter writing, sharing their thoughts, their fears, and their hopes for the future.

‘I hope Kumandra can be reunited again,’ Raya writes when she is eleven, and frustrated with the amount of time left before she can see Namaari again.

‘When we are both leaders of our land, we will be the first to take that step, dep la,’ Namaari promises in her reply.

When Raya is twelve years old, the Council meeting should be hosted in Fang once more. But a week before the gathering, Raya finds Ba rushing around, throwing out orders to everyone in his vicinity.

‘Is there a problem, Ba?’ she asks, surprised at how stressed he seems.

‘Fang can no longer host the Council of the Five this year, so we are instead,’ he replies, before rushing away to organize more details.

‘Food is scarce, this season,’ Namaari had written in her last letter, and Raya re-reads it with more understanding this time.

She resolves to ask her friend more details when the Fang delegation arrives, but when she first catches sight of Namaari, there are no smiles sent her way. Namaari instead stands staring straight ahead, adorned in more formal clothing than Raya is used to seeing. As soon as the diplomatic greetings are held, the parties start to walk back to the palace together, and Raya deliberately falls back so she can walk with Namaari.

‘Alright?’ she asks her friend. She sees Virana grip her daughter’s shoulder tightly, and then Namaari is sending a fake smile in her direction.

‘All is well,’ she tells Raya, but her eyes say differently. Raya wants to question her there and then, but first comes the large feast where everyone must attend. At her age, she knows Ba will notice if she misses it, but she is almost tempted to forgo manners and drag Namaari away.

‘I must speak to you,’ Namaari whispers at her when they are finally sat with their food. ‘But in private.’

The meal feels the longest Raya has ever had to sit through, so when the food ends and people start to split off into groups for discussions, she gestures to Namaari and they run out the side door.

‘Let me take you somewhere private,’ Raya says, hooking her arm with Namaari’s and pulling her up the pathway. ‘I’ve been waiting to show you this place for ages anyway.’

It is forbidden to take outsiders to see the Dragon Gem, and as its newly-appointed Guardian, Raya knows she should act in a more sensible way. But this is Namaari, her dragon-nerd-in-arms, and she’s been wanting to share this special place with her for several years now.

When they cross the threshold and enter into the glowing chamber, Raya can see her friend’s eyes growing wide at the Dragon Gem shining brightly before her.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Namaari breathes, and then her expression turns serious. ‘Raya, this is what I needed to talk to you about. I need to warn you…I think Ma has something planned in regards to the Gem – I heard her speaking to-’

She stops speaking abruptly. The hairs on the back of Raya’s neck prickle, and she knows before she turns what she will see. The sounds of weapons being drawn confirms her fears.

‘Leave her alone!’ Namaari calls out to the Fang warriors, trying to step in front of Raya. But Raya is a Guardian of the Dragon Gem, and she steps into fighting stance, determined to protect both the Gem and her home.

She is only a child, however, and no match for a group of seasoned Fang warriors. She takes one strong hit, and falls to the ground winded, struggling to stand again. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Namaari pull out a flare and shoot it into the sky, and in what feels like the next instant, Ba is beside her, followed by a large crowd of Fang, Spine, Talon and Tail delegates.

Yelling ensues, and then there is nothing but chaos. The only thing Raya can focus on is the fight for her life.

‘The Gem!’ she hears someone cry suddenly, and time seems to slow down as she watches the Dragon Gem topple to the ground. The crash echoes through the chamber, and everyone pauses in their fighting.

‘It’s alright, it’s alright,’ Ba is saying, on his knees and with his hands hovering over the Gem. For a split second, Raya believes him; then there is a *crack* and a small fracture starts to run up the side of the Gem. The room’s glow turns from a serene blue to a sickly shade of green, and people start to scream and run away as the ground begins to tremor.

The Gem is now alit with green flames, which grow larger and wilder as something tears open the ground beneath their feet, and Raya sees a large mechanical arm reaching out of the darkness, attached to a monstrous body. The movement dislodges the Gem, and it rolls towards her, a flaming ball of now corrupted magic. Raya tries to scramble away, but the ground is still trembling and she falls backwards, watching in horror as it comes closer.

‘Raya!’ Ba cries in the distance, and she closes her eyes.

Then there is a warm weight on top of her, and a terrible, terrible sound fills her ears. Raya drags herself forward with her hands, her fingers getting scratched and bleeding in the dirt, and she pulls her legs out from under whatever is pinning her down. Twisting around, she finds Namaari lying on the ground next to her, screaming in pain. Namaari’s left hand is clutching the Dragon Gem, and Raya watches as the green flames dance across her fingers, a green glow emanating from her veins.

‘Raya, we have to go!’ Ba says, just as she is reaching out to help Namaari. He scoops her up by her waist, and starts to run in the opposite direction.

‘’Maari!’ Raya screams, trying to fight him off and get back to her friend. Ba’s grip is too tight however, and she watches helplessly as she’s carried away.

The last thing she sees before being dragged from the chamber is Namaari, writhing on the ground in pain as several mechanical Druuns crawl closer to her prone form.

Her Ba does not make it that night either. Instead, she watches as he is touched by one of the cursed Druun, a green light flaring in his eyes before he is turned to stone, frozen in his last moment of pain and terror.

It takes Raya two years before she can bring herself to return home. The Druun have moved on, searching for more populated areas, but she can’t shake the trauma witnessed that night. She wouldn’t go back at all, but her supplies are running low, and of all the places she knows that should be filled still with well-preserved food, it will be the kitchens at the palace.

She aims for a quick in-and-out mission, but once she has collected the food and packed her bags back onto Tuk Tuk’s saddle, she can’t help but hesitate and glance over her shoulder.

‘I’ll just be a moment,’ she tells Tuk Tuk, patting his nose when he grunts at her in concern.

Her first visit is to her father, still suspended in time leaning over the bridge’s wall, his face contorted into one final call of her name, and his arms reaching out. She still remembers seeing his face as she fell into the water, and she hopes she was the last thing on his mind also in those final moments, rather than the fear of the Druun.

After she sits with him for a while, she takes a deep breath, and turns to go to the very location where it all started. Her feet drag as she nears the entrance of the chamber, but she steels her nerves, and ventures inside.

The image before her is even worse than she recalls. Debris is littered across the floor, tossed aside when the Druun emerged back into the world, whilst every corner of the room is full of stone people – all those who were too slow to escape, or too stubborn to back down from a fight.

And there, in the middle of the room, on her knees with one arm reaching out, she finds Virana. The fear etched onto the Fang Chief’s face sends a shiver down Raya’s spine, but when she turns to follow Virana’s eyeline, she sees nothing. Namaari isn’t there.

‘I didn’t expect to find you here, dep la,’ comes a voice from behind her.

Raya whirls around, her hand flying to her father’s sword. There is a subtle movement from within the shadows, and then a figure steps out into the open.

‘Namaari?’ Raya whispers, shocked at the sight in front of her. ‘I thought…When did you…How did you..?’

She can’t even finish a question, and Namaari chuckles bitterly at her surprise.

‘How did I avoid turning to stone?’ she asks, her gaze drifting from Raya and towards her mother instead. ‘It would have been better if I had done so.’

And then Raya sees it – her left arm, no longer human but metal and shining with the same sickly green of the Druun’s magic.

‘What happened to you, ‘Maari?’ Raya asks, taking a step forward and holding out her hands. She pauses when Namaari backs away, shaking her head.

‘Don’t come any closer, Raya,’ she warns. ‘I’m not safe to be around. I’ve…I’ve been cursed.’

‘The Druun cursed you?’ Raya demands, confusion in her voice. ‘Why would they do that? HOW did they do that?’

‘Not the Druun – the Dragons,’ Namaari thrusts up her left arm, and shakes it twice towards Raya. ‘This is what I get for touching the Dragon Gem. I guess being a traitor from Fang would do that…even the Dragons didn’t like us.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ Raya says softly, and she inches forward slowly. Namaari’s eyes are unfocused as she stares into the distance, and so she doesn’t notice Raya until their fingers brush. She flinches away.

‘You saved me,’ Raya continues, ignoring her reaction. ‘That shouldn’t mean you’re cursed for it…the Dragons wouldn’t have judged you so.’

‘Well, there’s no longer any dragon magic to place judgement anyway,’ Namaari informs her, and their eyes meet for the first time in years. ‘It’s inside me, Raya…I can feel the power of the Gem burning. And they’re in here too.’

‘The dragons?’

‘The Druun…I can hear them calling. They’re looking for me.’

At this, Namaari suddenly grabs Raya’s shoulder with her human hand, opening her mouth to say another warning, and Raya can see the moment she is distracted by something.

‘You kept it?’ she asks instead, and her hand goes to cover the pendant around Raya’s neck.

‘We said forever,’ Raya jokes feebly, fingers rising to hold Namaari’s wrist in support. ‘Namaari, let me help you, please. You saved me once, let me save you now.’

They pause for a moment, staring at each other, and then an unearthly shriek pierces the air.

‘They’re here,’ Namaari breathes instead. ‘Run.’

Namaari disappears into the shadows in a split second, almost as if she were a ghost. And for the second time in her life, Raya finds herself fleeing from Heart’s palace without Namaari beside her.

PART TWO tomorrow...

OK, so this was meant to merely be a Concept Art headcanon list as suggested by an anon, but it kinda ran away with me, and I found myself writing endless 'childhood friends' points to build up to the moment Namaari even got cursed, let alone to the point that everyone wants to actually read where they have a showdown later on. Woopsie. It then went from ficlet to...sorta fic, so I will have to post the rest tomorrow since it is late in my timezone. I know lots of other people have been doing amazing fics, headcanons and art for this concept, so this is just my lil contribution.

#rayaari #raya and namaari #raya and the last dragon #ratld #raya #namaari #rayaari fic #concept art au #once i started writing i couldn't stoooop #also i want to give proper attention to the cursed years #so part two tomorrow i'm afraid #i have work i have to wake up for #woe #no beta we suffer like the druun versus the dragon gem

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reality-maybe · 3 years ago

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Ok! So! I’m bored and had an assignment for scriptwriting the other day to “make a custom album” that represents or describe a situations. So I’m taking that and running with it and doing it for anime characters cause ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ each one is gonna include

8 songs that in MY opinion fit them (I’d love to hear other songs that make you think of them though!) and also why I think so

An instrumental/classical piece

A Disney/Pixar song that reminds me of them

If you want any specifics for your own album I’d be happy to personalize them for you! I could do diff genres/artists/decades/source material

And if you want I can even make a Spotify playlist of the songs. If I do a pt2 of the character I can add to it :D

✨As for my first victim✨

Shoot McMahon

@joyandeggs I’m dedicating this first one to you! I took a lot of inspiration on how you write for Shoot I love it so much!

Witchy Woman - The Hollies

(this is one of my fav songs ever and the inspiration to make this playlist prompt lol, after watching hxh I could only I can only picture Shoot flying around fighting Youpi whenever this song plays. It’s his song now! It’s subtle, soft, a little eerie, but striking and confident at the same time. Just like him.)

Light My Love - Greta Van Fleet

(idk, I can hear this when he finally believes in himself and comes to his own. Or that moment he lets himself fall in love, trying so hard to keep up his cautious and anxious nature, but his internal emotions get the better of him, and he’s just completely taken by the moment, the feelings. Just feeling new and bright and free)

Left Hand Free - alt-J

(…uh. I’ll let you figure this one out. But also this song is about a duel, and how the singer is smaller and less likely to win but he’s just throwing caution to the wind. Reminded me of a someone with purple hair and pronouns 💜)

Keep Yourself Alive - Queen

(McMans is literally fighting for his life for like the whole last 3rd of the series I think the urgency and desperation of his situation and how he needs to stay alive for himself and everyone else shines though this song. And the song tells of someone who works hard to better themselves but they always seemed end up where they were before.)

Take What You Want - Post Malone (ft. Ozzy Osbourne & Travis Scott)

(I feel like this song also fits Shoot’s past struggles. He’s been hurt before, betrayed and robbed of confidence and trust in himself. I feel like this is right before he has nothing else left to give, his lowest point. He’s so tired and angry, and frustrated with the world and himself, his resolve and inner strength the only thing pushing him forward, until he finally sees a light at the end. The guitar in the last min really sets that tone for me)

Let It Be - The Beatles

(We don’t know much about the specifics of Shoot’s past but we know he’s been though a lot. Losing his arm must only scratch the surface in terms of the trauma he’s endured. And yet he still became a high tier hunter and remains gentle, thoughtful guy. I see this song as him coming to terms with himself, him trying to find his inner peace)

At Least I’m Not As Sad (As I Used To Be) - fun.

(Our man’s is busy saving humanity or something kind of important like that. He must want to have some fun or just escape for a little, but he’s a man who’s focused on work and the task at hand, keeping to himself, but I feel like he reminisces on the past and what could have happened if he didn’t become a hunter. But even though he’s living a lonelier, tougher, more reclusive life, he isn’t as sad as he used to be because he’s proving himself worthy)

Stand By Me - Ben E. King

(Shoot always tried to take advice from his peers and mentors but could never trust himself to listen to them. He seems like someone who would hate to ask for help. I feel like at first he seems to push people away for his own safety, but deep down, he really wants someone to confide in, to trust and let his guard down around, whether that be a good friend like Knuckle, or his love)

The Four Seasons, Violin Concerto no. 2 (G Minor), Summer - Antonio Vivaldi

(Onto an instrumental! I love this piece so much, the anxious rush of the strings, the desperate pacing, makes me think of how Shoot thinks. He’s fast and brutal, mind racing and buzzing in the middle of battle, but still he manages to fight so elegantly and with so much precision and power!)

Into The Unknown - Panic! At The Disco Version

(And now DISNEY!!! (Edit: I had the movie version on here at first but I think the PatD version reflects him better when I compared them :))This was the first song to come up with I shuffled the Disney list and I think it fits Shoot so well! Also comparing him to Elsa, both of them locked themselves away afraid of themselves and their capabilities. Shoot was afraid of taking that leap, but since he has, there’s so much more for him to discover about himself. And I think deep down he’s excited for that.)

#Shoot McMahon #hxh #hunter x hunter #Spotify #took some inspiration from how #@joyandeggs #writes for shoot #song fic #song prompt #character playlist #playlist prompt #rECH #ask prompt

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yan-twst · 5 years ago

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Hello! May I request hc for the dorm leaders finding out that their female crush is only attracted to girls(female mc as a lesbian I stan-)? If you don't feel comfortable writing this then feel free to delete! I hope this was intresting ;-;

hell yeah lesbians rise up!!!! i included some of my own headcanons of how gay and lesbian stuff is in twst because i think it’s nice to have that there!

riddle rosehearts

riddle is immediately mortified- not because it turns out his crush is a lesbian, but because he’s now horrified all his “courting” may have come off as a bother or inappropriate. he’ll go beet red and apologize for that. he- he didn’t know! he didn’t mean to impose himself- argh!

is he heartbroken? a little. but he’s more worried that he may have come off as pushy. the queen of hearts may have been overbearing, but she never went out of her way to specifically bother anyone, and riddle feels the same way. he really really wants to make it clear he didn’t mean to bother her oh god-

once he calms down a bit, he’ll just, kinda... compose himself and apologize once more. if he had known, he’d probably not have made any advances (even though his “flirting” was more along the lines of inviting to unbirthday parties and sharing trey’s baking. it was nothing too invasive- hell, riddle’s crush wasn’t even aware he was flirting with her)

riddle will also bashfully ask if... well, even if he has no chance with her, he hopes that they can still remain friends. romantic or platonic feelings, he still really gets along with her- hell, everyone’s grown used to having her at the unbirthday parties, and trey already bakes extra for her every time.

he’ll take the title of being her friend with pride. riddle will quickly swallow down his heartbreak: this is something that has to be this way, and the fact that she likes girls simply means he’ll just be the best guy friend she possibly can have

leona kingscholar

leona “woman respecter” kingscholar takes the information well. he just kinda goes ‘oh’, nods, and takes a nap.

welp, there’s nothing to be done, so why get all sad and mopey? if the little herbivore likes girls, more power to her. welp, women are pretty and powerful. he understands why they like women. makes sense

leona is a bit sad, sure, but it’s only natural. he doesn’t dwell on it for long, though. if something can’t be changed, there’s no sense in thinking it over and over: he’s a man and his crush likes women, so that’s the end of that

despite it being so clear cut for him, he will take some time to talk everything out with her. he wants to make it clear: he was pursuing her romantically before, and he won’t anymore. he didn’t know she was a lesbian before, and now he knows

still, leona’s got a soft spot for the little herbivore. even though he might not be pursuing her anymore, it doesn’t change the fact he still feels like he’s gotta watch over her and help her.

he’s just gonna be his usual grumpy self, really. he’ll still invite her over to practice magift, he’ll still tease them and call them “herbivore”. is he still in love? leona won’t ever mention it, really. does it matter? she’s his friend now, even if he calls her “annoying herbivore” whenever she wakes him up, and that’s pretty much all he could ask for

azul ashengrotto

fun fact did you know octopi have been seen displaying homosexual behaviours out in nature

which is to say, this isn’t anything new to azul. same-sex relationships are more common in his home than what he’s seen in the surface, but it’s not like lesbians are a new concept to him

oh don’t get it wrong he does cry when his darling tells him she’s not into men. he cries and then he lets her hug him until he stops. he then proceeds to be so mortified over it all he wishes he could go hide in his octopus pot

after apologizing for... that ordeal, azul will return to his usual composed self. it’s almost hard to tell he was a sniffling mess just a few minutes before if it weren’t for his puffy eyes

he composes himself quickly because, well... when he pictured himself getting turned down, it was always painful- old insecurities flaring, being told he wasn’t enough- but this was... not painful? it’s not as if he wasn’t good enough or something. his crush was just a lesbian! it’s not his fault, so it’s hard for him to feel sad over it

azul might even feel a bit bad for her. she’s... stuck in this all boy’s school, huh? the only girls here are probably the fae that control the weather... and the talking portraits...?

even though there’s really no girls for her to talk to, azul will still take on a protective attitude over her, giving the “if any girl breaks your heart tell me and the twins and we will avenge you” talk. azul doesn’t know why any girl would hurt her heart, because in his eyes she’s precious, but hey, he’s gotta protect his friend, right?

kalim al-asim

“wait you like women? oh me too!”

kalim takes it... so well. like, almost shockingly well? it’s like he processed the information in record speed, sorted out his own feelings immediately, and made peace with it all in a matter of seconds

kalim has many sisters around his age. one in ten people are gay. what i am getting at is kalim has lesbian sisters and so this revelation that his crush is lesbian doesn’t shake his world too much

he’ll admit it stings a little- love is a powerful thing, after all! but he thinks people who pursue others who are clearly not interested are scummy, and he’d never do anything like that

in his mind, it’s an easy ordeal. he trusts and likes her. she sees him as a close friend, and that’s the most he can be. so really, he should just be happy he’s as close to her as can be! he’s already at the top rung of being close to her, so he’s hit the goal, right?

kalim, god bless his heart, is that friend who will present his lesbian friends to any other lesbian friend he has. he has good intentions, but it might get a little tiring? and a bit overwhelming too when he brings up that he has sisters right around his age who are also into girls and suddenly he’s making plans for a big mixer party and oh god jamil please help and put a stop to this before it gets out of control please help he’s already planning a menu-

vil schoenheit

ooooh so she’s a lesbian ooooooh ok that makes sense. that makes sense.

vil is like “oh! of course my incredible efforts into my appearance and into our friendship and in wooing her weren’t working. she is just not into men”

he’s almost surprised at how getting turned down like this just... didn’t bruise his ego at all. his efforts weren’t useless, he wasn’t doing things wrong, it simply couldn’t work! honestly, vil would have been more hurt if he’d put all this effort and his crush had been straight and still turned him down

hmm, so she’s into girls... then being here, in an academy full of men (who are, in vil’s opinion, horribly unrefined and ungraceful) must be rough.

just because he’s no longer trying to pursue a relationship with her does not mean that he’ll stop inviting her over for skincare or for trying on clothes. absolutely not. the fact vil even was attracted to her in the first place is because he saw her as someone with potential and that has not changed

he will immediately position himself as a big brother / best friend. just because he’s her friend doesn’t mean he’s gonna let her slack, though! he’s still gonna be checking she follows the skincare routine he set up for her, and that she’s eating and sleeping well- as much as he says it’s because he “wants to make her potential shine” or whatever, it’s just... overwhelmingly clear he just cares about her as a friend

idia shroud

out of all the ways he imagined getting turned down this has to be the one that he had NOT pictured and at the same time, it’s kinda the best one? crush was a lesbian so it wouldn’t work out, 10/10 turn down, didn’t make him go into a self deprecating vortex

once again, it’s the age old relief of “yes, i got turned down by my crush, but it wasn’t my fault, because it turned out she was a lesbian”. idia had ran so many scenarios of being turned down, of his crush being disgusted at him, that it all being resolved into her not liking men at all is... almost relieving?

and you know what. he gets it. when he sees his figurines and posters of his favourite idols and anime girls it’s like well duh of course she likes girls because girls are cute?

he’s gonna have her rate his waifu tierlist. what? it’s not- it’s not weird, is it?! he’s just trying to bond, and- urgh, he kinda wants to know what her opinion on his waifus is. because his waifus are cute girls and she likes girls so ?? it makes sense? right? (idia might cry if she says his waifus aren’t That Good)

this whole ordeal might also result in the almost hilarious scenario in which ortho just straight up goes “Hey niichan, what is a lesbian?”

learning that his closest friend likes girls opens pandora’s box, the box being idia making his friend review every anime girl and gacha or visual novel girl that HE likes

malleus draconia

did you know reptiles are also quite gay? there’s even a species of lizard that’s just, entirely female. dragons are reptiles.

malleus, bless his heart, is not good at reading people. his crush will need to be Direct. trying to use metaphors like “I swing the other way”, or “I play for the other team” do nothing but further confuse him- when his crush finally cracks down and just goes “what I’m trying to say is I’m a lesbian” he finally, finally, understands what this is all about

malleus just... nods in understanding

he feels a little sad- it does sting, a bit, to know things can’t work out, but he’s also... happy. if she told him, that means she trusts him, right?

malleus is happy enough to just have A Friend in general, even if he’d never admit he’s usually lonely. most people tend to run from him or be so intimidated they shiver when they hear his name. and yet, against all odds, he’s found a friend who likes being by his side, someone who didn’t know all the baggage that comes with his name. he’d be a fool to tear down that friendship just because he’s learnt it’ll stay platonic

also, as mentioned before, it’s not like homosexuality is some sort of taboo or odd subject. it’s actually quite common amongst the fae, especially those in Malleus’ kingdom. although he does say he can’t introduce her to any cute fae girls. he.... is not friends with any. (he just doesn’t have a lot of friends in general, but he refuses to say that because he... doesn’t want to sound “mopey”, lile lilia says he is)

#twst #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #Anonymous

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mysdrymmumbles · 4 years ago

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Steadfast - October Writing Prompt

Thank you to @toastvogel for suggesting Chyrus. He is the best paragon <3

..................

The Archon sits on no throne, but even without one, many kyrian often see her as a more distant figure. It is understandable. Even if she wasn’t a god, she is the leader of the realm. By her will is Bastion maintained, and by her hand are the ascended directed. There is more work that goes into doing even those two dealings than most will ever know, and she does so much more than that. It is a wonder she ever has time to address any of her subjects.

In that way, Chyrus can’t help but wonder—hope, really—whether she is at least somewhat protected from some of what is happening right now. She is not at the temples, watching their brethren fall before each other’s blades. She can feel the realm wither around her, in spite of her will, but she cannot see how that crushes the spirits of those relying on her unwavering resolve. She is spared their doubts.

Until those doubts become too powerful.

And then she is blindsided with the betrayal.

Because most anyone else could have seen something like this coming. Perhaps not on such a grand scale, but there were signs, clear as the skies over Bastion.

Chyrus frowns as the sound of a broken chime reaches his ears. With a quick inspection, he finds the culprit underfoot, half crushed under his large toes. Kneeling, he picks them up gingerly, the lute-like chimes tiny in his palm, and the ring they used to hang on broken.

It’s hard to imagine what could have damaged it so. Someone getting thrown into it and their weapon catching it just right? Or had one of their many attackers been so overcome with rage that the sound of the gentle instrument filled them with such animosity that they wanted to make sure they would never play again?

There has been so much heartache in Bastion throughout the eons.

Bastion’s pride is its noble cause, but perhaps it is because he does not cling to such emotion that Chyrus has always been able to see the melancholic undercurrent. The broken hearts sent back to Oribos to be judged anew because they could not relinquish the memories of their mortal lives has always been there. Friends and students alike have ‘fallen short’ over the years. He wonders where they’ve gone, sometimes—those he remembers.

And there are those who have done as was required of them, who sometimes quietly peruse their old memories, watching the foreign stories play out with a quiet resignation that their sacrifice was for the greater good. Still, sacrifices are nothing if they are not mourned from time to time.

As Chyrus peers around to see if there are any other pieces of the little chimes to be gathered—to be given to someone with smaller hands who needs so desperately something to focus on other than the present—the sound of large wings grow closer.

He catches the last bit of pipe beneath his foot as Thenios lands, unintentionally scattering the debris left in the forsworn’s latest attack with his great wings.

Chyrus offers him a word of greeting before picking up the chime. It wouldn’t do to forget it, and even though there was no proof of it, Chyrus has often felt like little objects could have a feel to them. They could know when they are broken and appreciate when they are repaired.

It’s a notion Visephone smiles to think of, and one that Xandria will mull over before irritably asking questions that have no answers. Simple things that cannot be done in front of their charges, but are held precious in those fleeting moments when the paragons are alone together.

This is not going to be such a moment, Chyrus can tell, if only by the thin line of Thenios’ lips.

That doesn’t stop Chyrus from giving him a simple smile himself. “What brings you all the way out here?”

Thenios stands tall and firm, armor shining in Bastion’s radiance.

That in itself makes Chyrus’ heart hurt. Thenios does not don his armor for any occasion.

Or he didn’t. Not before the forsworn, before Devos’ betrayal. Though he would never voice it, Chyrus often suspects that Devos fall from grace affected Thenios the most severely of them all, hitting him harder than even the Archon.

How often had the two visited each other’s temples in casual attire to sprawl out together and read. Thenios usually brought the scrolls and books, and Devos was always pleased to see whatever it was that he had for her. She’d once told him he could make even the driest, most technical of reports sound fascinating.

Chyrus can still remember finding them curled up together, feathers fluffed up as they read through something that wasn’t work related, and how Xandria had hounded them about how adorable they were for weeks after, insisting to Visephone that she had missed something absolutely precious.

When it was just them, of course. When they have those fleeting moments where they can simply be people instead of unyielding leaders.

Thenios hasn’t taken his armor off since Devos’ death.

The paragon motions for Chyrus to follow him, and they both take flight, soaring out into the fields where they will not be overheard.

Their feet have barely touched into the soft grasses when Thenios begins to speak, unable to contain himself any longer. His voice is a mix of its usual matter-of-fact tone used to inspire confidence among his aspirants and something else, something almost accusatory. “The Maw Walker has recovered some records for me. Salvaging what the forsworn are so hasty to destroy in their hunt for whatever they think matters more.”

“We are fortunate to have such help—”

“They brought me this.”

There is nothing particularly noteworthy about the record in Thenios’ palm, but Chyrus knows what it will be before it plays. Funny that he was just remembering this aspirant as he surveyed the damage to his temple. She had been close to ascension when she fell. She came to him, telling him that the path had taken everything from her, made her into someone she didn’t recognize.

She had been the latest in a long line of those who were not meant for the path after all.

Chyrus listens to his own disembodied voice recount the incident and remembers musing about whether there was another way for those within Bastion, a way that didn’t require a complete abandonment of the past.

The reasons for the path’s current route were valid, of course. No good came from ferrymen who judged the souls they collected.

It was a hard path, but it was one that had served them well for almost all of eternity. And if it weren’t for the lack of judgment in Oribos…

Chyrus makes no offer to take the record from Thenios, more than a little sure that if he did try, it would be denied him. Instead, he waits for Thenios to make whatever point he is there for. A chiding perhaps that such a thing was left where aspirants could find it?

“Did she ever talk to you?”

The question is a surprise, a reminder that Chyrus cannot predict everything his fellow paragon will think or do, and it hangs between them.

“No,” Chyrus finally replies. The word feels cruel somehow in its succinctness. “The first—and only—time I heard of Devos’ dissatisfaction with the path was when she told us of Uther’s injury.”

Thenios flinches at her name. No armor can protect him from his memories, and Chyrus has been worried about what will happen to him. Forgetting their fallen brethren will be nigh impossible. Their paths were far too entwined and to take her away would leave him with so much emptiness…

Chyrus has already lost so many, his heart breaks at the mere of thought of who else may fall, of who might be left a shell of their former selves because of hearbreak they can’t overcome.

“She told me.” Thenios voice cracks at the last word. He is quiet a moment before clearing his throat, his composure regained. “I told her to be careful the sort of thing she said.” His chin inclines, gaze skyward. “I did not think…I did not know that you had wondered about this very thing.”

“Haven’t we all?” Chyrus offers gently. None of them are above doubts, after all. He reaches out and lightly places a hand on Thenios’ arm, a connection his friend so clearly needs. The action startles Thenios out of his thoughts.

“If I’d listened…if I had let her talk…hadn’t let her feel so—” Thenios curls his fingers around the record, practically crushing it in his hand as he lowers it to his side, fist shaking. “How could she have… the Jailer.”

His voice cracks again, and this time he stops talking, a tremor in his jaw as he clenches it.

With a quick step, Chyrus reaches out and wraps Thenios in a hug, ignoring the way the bits of armor poke into his bare arms. There is hesitation, and then Thenios grips Chyrus back, clinging to him like a drowning man in a stormy sea.

There is not enough time. There may never be, but here, now, Chyrus is acutely aware of how damaged his friend is and how there are people who need both of them to be unbreakable pillars.

It is cruel that he can offer Thenios so little of his time. Chyrus makes himself a silent vow that he will be there for his friend, to properly mourn what they have lost when things are finally set right.

When Thenios pulls away, a shiver runs through his feathers and for a moment, Chyrus thinks he may take his helm off.

Instead, he takes Chyrus’ hand, surprised to find the tiny bits of broken chimes already there as he places the record among them. “I would hate the forsworn to get this and think you would be a good target to convert.”

Chyrus chooses not to point out that they have already tried. “Thank you, my friend.”

Thenios turns away and then pauses, looking back at him. “If you need someone to listen to your doubts…”

Chyrus wants to tell him that Devos’ fall is not his fault, but there is no way for words to reach, much less ease, the guilt there. Instead, he gives Thenios a nod and a gentle smile. “Of course.”

Thenios attempts something like a goodbye, but when he can’t trust his voice to hold steady, he instead dismisses himself without ceremony. Chyrus does not insult him by watching his retreat, instead turning his attention back to his temple.

There is much to be done.

#world of warcraft #chyrus #my boi #thenios #devos #thenios x devos #kyrian #Chyrus and Thenios are bros #the best bros

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dixie12 · 4 years ago

Text

kink confession #3

i really love puppy play. i see it as a progression of d/s play, where the sub partner gets to really get out of their head, and just get totally spoiled and taken care of by their dom. and if anyone deserves to be petted and loved on and called a good boy, it's jonny.

i meant this to be a quick, smutty thing, but the boys wouldn't cooperate and get down to the porn, so it's almost 4k words, but i had fun writing it!

“You can’t even keep a houseplant alive, Kaner. There is absolutely no way anyone would ever entrust you with a dog,” Jonny said, for what felt like the twentieth time that night. Sharpy never should have let Pat dog-sit Shooter a few weeks ago, because ever since then, Pat seemed to bring up getting a dog at least once a day. “Plus, we’re on the road, like, all the time. It would be cruel to the dog,” Jonny continued. He had no idea why Pat was so insistent on this.

“I’d be awesome at it, though!” Pat exclaimed, sulking just a little. “I practically raised all three of my sisters, and they turned out great.”

“Raised them in between playing on five different peewee teams, Peeks?” Sharpy interjected into the conversation. “And you’re barely a year older than Erica, come on!”

“Whatever,” Pat grumbled. “I’d be the best dog dad ever. Shooter’s probably begging to come back and live with me. I’d give him steak, and belly rubs, and we’d go on long walks, and-”

“Are you describing a dog or your dating profile, man?” Sharpy interrupted, laughing, and Patrick’s cheeks turned a light pink, almost unnoticeable in the dim light of the bar, but Jonny was watching him pretty closely, like he always did.

“Fuck off, Sharpy. Jesus, don’t make it weird,” Patrick replied, rolling his eyes. Thankfully, the conversation moved on after that, when the rookies came back with a round of shots for the table. Jonny lost track of the number of rounds after that, but the rest of the night passed in a blur, and he and Pat were leaning on each other for balance by the time they were waiting for a cab to get back to their hotel.

When they were finally back in their room, clothes thrown haphazardly on the floor (Jonny) or folded neatly on the desk chair (Patrick), Patrick brought it up again. “Seriously, Jonny, I’d be so good at it,” he said plaintively. Jonny could imagine the puppy dog eyes he was making, so appropriate for this situation, and forced himself to stay quiet. Patrick sounded almost forlorn, and Jonny really hated when he sounded like that, all of his instincts telling him to make Pat feel better, but it was still a bad idea.

“Maybe I could, like, prove how good I’d be!” Pat said into the silence. “Come over next weekend, man, and I’ll show you. You’ll change your mind, I swear.” At that point, Jonny was drunk and tired enough that he said yes, mostly just to get Pat to go to sleep. Looking back, he really should have asked some important questions, mainly, what the fuck did Patrick mean by “showing him,” but his eyes were dragging closed, and he passed out as soon as he mumbled his agreement.

Jonny walked into Pat’s apartment, unsure what to expect. Pat hadn’t been very forthcoming on the phone. He’d actually sounded a little nervous, voice higher than usual, words coming out quickly, telling Jonny to just get over to his apartment already. Jonny walked in slowly, peering around the corner, ready to be ambushed by an entire pack of dogs, or maybe a powerpoint presentation entitled ‘Why Patrick Kane Deserves a Dog” complete with ClipArt pictures and comic sans font. He certainly wouldn’t put it past Pat to try something that ridiculous.

Pat was just sitting on the couch in his living room, though, TV on but not really watching it. His head jerked in Jonny’s direction as he entered, and Pat sat up straighter.

“Hey, man,” he said, still with that undercurrent of nerves that Jonny heard over the phone.

“Ok, I’m here,” Jonny replied, skipping over a normal greeting entirely. “Let’s get this over with so we can watch some tape tonight.”

“Yea, yea,” Pat said, rolling his eyes. He leaned forward and picked up a small package that Jonny hadn’t noticed, sitting on the coffee table. “Here,” he said, offering the box to Jonny. “This is for you. For today.”

“Ok…” Jon answered, taking the box in his hands. It was light, but it rattled a little when he shook it. He opened it gingerly, lifting the top off. There was tissue paper inside, and when he pulled it out, he saw a red and black leather dog collar. There was a tag on it, a simple circle that was cool to the touch as he fingered it gently, turning it over. The back just read “88” with no other markings.

“Uhhh, what is this, Pat?” Jonny asked, stroking his fingers over the leather. It was buttery soft in his hand, silver buckle polished to a high shine.

“It’s for you!” Patrick repeated, voice somewhat manic. “You’re going to wear it, and pretend to be a dog, so I can take care of you and show you how good I am at it!” Jonny just stared at him, dumfounded. He could feel his jaw hanging open, but didn’t have the mental energy to close it, too busy repeating Pat’s words in his head. He seriously expected Jonny to…

“You seriously expect me to put on a fucking dog collar and what, crawl around on the ground? So you can show me that you should get a real dog? That will be left alone half the season and then dragged back and forth to Buffalo? Are you insane?” Jonny half-yelled the last sentence, feeling hysterical.

“I mean, when you put it that way…” Pat’s eyes dropped guiltily, and he was blushing now. “I wasn’t really thinking of it like that. I just… I think I’d be good at this, and it sucks that everyone thinks I can’t be trusted.” He looked up at Jonny through his lashes, and with his curls in desperate need of a haircut, he looked heartbreakingly young and sad. Jonny could feel his resolve breaking.

He guessed they had kind of been jerks to Pat in the bar, making fun of him. Pat had gotten a lot more responsible in the last year, and he’d probably do fine with a dog, and maybe they shouldn’t have teased him so much. Pat was still looking at him imploringly, eyes wide and hopeful. Fine, he’d do this for a few minutes, assuage his guilt, and then they’d never speak of it again.

“Jesus, fine,” he huffed out. “But you mention a single word of this to anyone and I’m going to stab you with a skate blade, Happy Gilmore style,” Jonny threatened, narrowing his eyes at Pat, whose blinding grin made the upcoming embarrassment worthwhile.

“Yea, of course, Jonny. It’ll be our thing, I promise,” he said, taking the collar from Jonny’s hands. “Go put on some sweats, I think that will be more comfortable, ok?” and Jonny didn’t even bother fighting that one. The sooner they got this started, the sooner it would be over.

He came out of Pat’s guest room dressed in a pair of his own sweatpants that he’d left there at some point. They were well-worn, soft, and smelled like Pat’s detergent.

“Ok, come here so I can put this on you,” Pat said, gesturing Jonny towards him with the hand that still held the collar. Jonny walked towards him slowly, prior nerves that he’d fought down returning with a vengeance as he watched Pat unbuckle the collar in preparation. He took a deep breath, stopping just in front of Patrick, who tugged his shoulder until he turned around. “Crouch down a little so I can reach, dick,” Pat said, pushing on his shoulder.

“Pretty sure you shouldn’t call your, uh, I mean, a dog a dick, Pat. That’s kinda mean,” Jonny complained.

“Hey as soon as it’s all the way on, I’m going to treat you like gold, Jonny,” Pat said. Jon felt the collar tightening against the tensed muscles in his neck. “Relax,” Pat said, voice dropping low, one hand running from Jon’s neck to his shoulder, soothing. Jonny shivered, but some of the stiffness in him relaxed, and Pat slid the buckle into place. “How’s that feel?” he asked, slipping a finger underneath to test for any give.

Jonny had to clear his throat, which was suddenly dry. “Uhh, it’s good,” he got out. “I mean, it’s fine. Not too tight,” he mumbled.

“Perfect,” Pat said, and the word warmed something inside him.

“So what do we do now?” Jon asked, wondering just what Pat had planned for their play date.

“Uh-uh, Jonny. Dogs don’t talk,” Pat answered with a smile. “You just do what I say and let me spoil you.” And oh. Jonny had never had someone say anything like that to him before. He could feel the blossom of heat in his cheeks and knew it was spreading down his neck and chest, as well. He desperately hoped that Pat just thought he was embarrassed. That’s all it was, he told himself firmly, willing himself to get it together. He just wasn’t used to hearing things like that directed at himself. Hell, he’d never talked to any girls like that either, like they were something precious to take care of.

Jon nodded jerkily, determined to play along and not make it weird. Or, weirder than it already was, he guessed.

“Ok, first things first- every dog deserves some time snuggling on the couch, come on,” Pat said, starting to walk into the living room. Jonny hesitated, unsure for a moment if Pat expected him to like, crawl on all fours behind him. That wouldn’t be very good for his knees, he thought. Or his dignity.

Patrick seemed to get what he was thinking and laughed as he answered “nah, man, you can walk like normal. Unless you like, really want to get method on me, then you can go ahead and crawl.” Jon shook his head hard, following behind Pat into the living room.

Pat sat down on the couch, then gestured next to him. Jon sat, somewhat stiffly, but Pat immediately pushed him down. “No, come on, that’s not snuggling. Lie down,” he directed, and Jon allowed himself to be pushed over. His head ended up in Pat’s lap, which he didn’t think he’d done since he was drunk with TJ at UND. He’d definitely never cuddled with his head in a guy’s lap while sober, he knew that much. Maybe he should have pregamed with some shots before he came over today.

Too late now, though. “Yea, that’s good,” Pat was saying, as he stroked his hand through Jonny’s hair. “Good boy.” Jonny suppressed another shiver. He’d always been a sucker for having his hair played with, and it figured that Pat had discovered the weakness right away. “I know you don’t like my reality TV, so I’m putting on a nature show for you. They’re supposed to be very soothing for dogs, ok?” Pat said, and Jonny could get used to that, to Pat catering to what he wanted. Jon was pretty sure Pat didn’t actually want a response, what with the whole “dogs don’t talk” thing he had insisted on, so instead, he let himself relax a little bit more into Pat’s lap.

The show actually was soothing. Jonny was only half-listening to the English-accented narrator talk about different kinds of jellyfish, letting his mind wander as Pat continued to stroke his hair. Sometimes he’d grasp at it and tug, and every time, Jonny had to bite back a moan. Soon, Pat’s hand had wandered down from his hair and was stroking long, firm pats (there was no better word for it) down his neck and shoulder. Jonny shuddered into one of them, and he could hear the smile in Pat’s voice as he said “yea, feels good, doesn’t it?” hand never stopping.

Jonny was glad that he wasn’t expected to answer, not sure he’d have been able to get any words out anyway. He let out a deep sigh, instead, and Pat crooned at him “good boy. Good, good boy.”

Jonny lost track of time after that, mind and body both relaxed. He jerked in surprise when Pat moved to get up. “Shh, it’s ok. Good boy,” Pat soothed. “I’m just going to get dinner going. I promised you a steak, didn’t I?”

Jon nodded, letting himself sink back into the cushions of the couch. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable without Pat there underneath him, but it gave him a chance to get himself back under control. It was hitting him harder than he expected, Patrick touching him gently and saying soft, sweet things to him. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his mind from the fog it had fallen into.

He could hear Pat puttering in the kitchen, and for once didn’t feel any guilt about not helping. He listened as Pat heated the stovetop, then heard the sizzle of steak hitting the frying pan. Usually, he’d be bugging Pat about not cooking with oil, and preparing healthy side dishes, keeping up his side of the banter that was expected of him. Tonight, though, Pat didn’t expect that from him. Didn’t want it from him, either. Just wanted him to lie still on the couch and wait, and Jon could do that.

He was almost dozing when Patrick walked back in. Jon perked up at the smell of food, and Pat sounded fond when he said “dinner’s here, pup.” Jon started at that, but before he could get himself good and worked up, Pat was sitting next to him, two large steaks on a plate on the coffee table. Jonny sat up, looking at the food expectantly, but Pat shook his head.

“Pups don’t eat on the couch,” he said, and he placed a cushion that Jon had never seen before on the floor. Pat pushed at his shoulder once, and, fine, the steak looked and smelled delicious, so Jon could suffer the indignity of eating on the floor. He settled down on the cushion, which was soft and velvety beneath him, and reached towards the plate. It was only then that he realized there was only one set of utensils.

Pat leaned forward, cutting a piece of steak from one of the filets. He blew on it for a moment, then gently took it off the fork and offered it to Jonny between his fingers. Jonny took just a moment to consider the pink center and perfect sear, smell even more tantalizing as Patrick brought it to his mouth. He swallowed hard, then leaned forward, taking the bite from Pat’s fingers. Pat smiled at that, broad and bright, as he cut the next piece off for himself.

Pat had turned the TV down, now just a quiet white noise in the background as they made their way through dinner. Usually, as two guys in their twenties with a physically demanding job, they inhaled their food, finishing in a matter of minutes. Pat was taking his time tonight, though, cutting off pieces of steak that were the perfect size for Jon, letting Jon take them delicately from his fingers.

Without the ability to talk, or even use his hands, Jon’s other senses felt heightened, even as his mind felt more relaxed. He could feel himself settling deeper onto the cushion, shifting his weight more comfortably on the velvet, which was soft on the tops of his exposed feet. His arms were heavy as they hung by his side, hands folded in his lap, unnecessary now, because Pat was taking care of him. The smell of the steak hung in the air, enticing and reminiscent of dozens of other nights he’d spent with Pat.

He closed his eyes as Pat fed him another bite, and fuck if this wasn’t the best steak he could remember having, seasoning sharp and tangy, steak melting in his mouth. He could feel some of the juice running down Pat’s hand, and he lapped it at without thinking, not wanting to miss out on any of the taste. He heard Pat’s quiet gasp as he licked over his fingers, tongue curling in between them, but Pat didn’t pull back, didn’t say anything else, just took his clean hand and stroked Jonny’s cheek.

“Yea, it’s good, huh, isn’t it, pup?” he asked, voice hushed. “Made it just for you,” and Jon licked harder at that, strangely comforted by having something in his mouth. He heard himself whine when Pat gently pulled his fingers out of Jonny’s mouth, but couldn’t spare the thought to be embarrassed before Pat’s hand was back with another piece. Instead of holding it out for Jonny between his fingers, though, he had it in the palm of his hand. Jonny bent his head closer, no hesitation in him as he picked up the piece with his teeth and tongue, and then Pat’s hand was still there, dripping with juice and salt and seasoning, and he set in to lick it clean.

He enjoyed the sensation of the rough calluses on Pat’s palm, built up from years of stickhandling, and kept dragging his tongue over them long after Pat’s hand was free from any traces of the steak. Pat kept a hand in his hair, smoothing through it, scratching at Jonny’s scalp in a way that felt blissful. He kept at it even after Jonny stopped licking, as Jonny knelt there on the cushion at his feet. They stayed like that until Jonny’s head grew heavy, neck wobbly with relaxation, and he rested it on Pat’s leg.

“Ok, pup,” Pat said eventually. “Let’s get you some water, yea?” Jonny didn’t attempt to answer, just picked his head up and watched as Pat rose from the couch. He realized Pat was walking out towards the kitchen, and suddenly didn’t want to be alone. Without thinking about it, he put his hands on the hardwood floor and started crawling out of the room after Pat.

Pat only took a few steps out of the room before he stopped, turning around and looking down at Jonny. Jonny couldn’t quite tell what expression was on Pat’s face, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen him smile so softly, not even when talking to his sisters.

“You’re being so good for me, aren’t you, pup?” he said gently, and Jonny shivered. “Yea, you just want to be with your person, huh,” Pat continued, bending down and working a finger under Jonny’s collar. He tugged it gently, making Jonny gasp at the reminder of what was around his neck, and then let go. He scrubbed his hand through Jonny’s hair once more before turning back around and continuing towards the kitchen. Jonny kept crawling behind him, then settled himself in the entryway while Pat poured two glasses of water.

“Come on, boy,” he said, walking back to the couch, and Jonny followed without pause.

When they got back to the living room, Pat grabbed the cushion that he’d laid out for Jonny for dinner, dragging it closer to the couch. “It’ll be easier for you to drink like this, pup,” he explained, tugging Jonny towards him and holding one of the glasses out to his lips. He tipped it up slowly, letting Jonny drink at his own pace, and Jon could feel himself blushing again. The intimacy of the moment, being at Pat’s feet, letting Pat help him drink, hit him hard, and he realized that he hadn’t even attempted to take the glass in his hands, even before Pat said anything. He’d just assumed that Pat would take care of that for him, just like Pat had been taking care of everything else tonight. He was overwhelmed, suddenly, with affection for Pat, and he dropped his head, nuzzling into Pat’s thigh.

He heard Pat’s short, sweet laugh above him, and he almost pulled back, but Pat brought one big hand down, laying it on the back of his neck, keeping his head there.

“Yea, I love you too, pup,” he murmured, and Jon could hear the warmth in his voice. Jon smiled to himself, groaning quietly as Pat’s hand started up with the long strokes through his hair again, and he let his head rest on Pat’s thigh, body melting into Pat’s strong legs at the feeling of the hand in his hair.

He let himself be lulled by the soothing strokes, mind drifting, eyes closed. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but when he opened his eyes again, the room was darker, and Pat had slouched down a little further on the couch. He still had his hand in Jonny’s hair, though, occasionally running it down his neck, rubbing in small circles. It felt amazing, and Jonny leaned forward, trying to get Pat’s attention to give him another drink of water.

When he leaned in, though, he rubbed up against Pat’s leg, and fuck that felt good. He hadn’t even realized he was hard until his cock made contact with Pat’s leg, but now that he was aware of it, he couldn’t stop himself from jerking his hips again. A whine slipped out of his lips as his hips thrust forward a third time, seeking out the hard planes of Pat’s leg, grinding his cock there. He could feel the precome slicking down his dick, easing the way for him to keep rubbing up against Pat, even through his soft sweatpants. He whined again at the feel of it, dirty, but so good.

He heard Pat gasp a sharp breath above him, heard him groan out a “fuuuck J-, I mean, pup.” Jonny could feel the blush blooming in his cheeks, but he didn’t care, not when the simple pressure of Pat’s leg against the hot length of him felt like this. “Yea thats good, pup,” Pat said, half a moan, and he dropped his hand lower, between Jonny’s shoulder blades, pushing gently on his back, encouraging him to ride Pat’s leg even harder. “Want you to feel good, baby. Make yourself feel good for me,” and the approval in Pat’s voice lit Jonny up from the inside, warm glow of it driving out the last of his embarrassment.

He buried his face in Pat’s thigh, not using his hands at all, just letting his hips work mindlessly, rutting up against Pat’s leg. This wasn’t going to take long, not with Pat’s strong hand firm on his back and Pat’s soft praise in his ear. He could feel himself losing the rhythm, could hear his breath coming in harsh pants, and he didn’t fight it, not like he usually did, struggling to last, to make it good for whatever girl he was with. Now, he just let the orgasm race through him, coming hard and groaning with it.

He shuddered, feeling utterly spent in the best way, body loose and limp. Pat dragged his hand up from Jonny’s back, tangling it in his hair for a moment before reaching down for Jonny’s collar. He snuck his fingers under it, and Jonny let himself drift again, pressed up against Pat, Pat’s fingers tight on his collar.

#1988 #blackhawks fic #puppy!play #jonny would look so good in a collar #pat would take such good care of him #just absolutely cherish him #the way he deserves #o captain my captain #kink confession #write the fic you want to see in the world

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novelty--night · 4 years ago

Text

Sick Fic

@daringyounggrayson I finally finished your request! (running fingers through sweaty hair x being led back to bed with patient whispers)

Characters: Bruce, Dick, and Alfred

"How is he?"

Bruce asks as Alfred steps into the hallway and out of the bedroom.

Alfred sighs as he readjusts the tray in his hand. The soup was half-eaten and cold.

"His fever is still high, but it seems he has more of an appetite." Alfred sends him a pointed look. "Although, I am positive you can Master Dick himself on how he is doing."

"I…" Bruce touches his broken ribs, still slightly sore. His mind flashes back to that night.

Poison Ivy had made another escape from Arkham. She went and destroyed another oil factory, destroying many Iives with it.

Robin and Batman fought together as they avoid being plummeted by thick, green vines. One lucky vine manages to hit Bruce on the stomach. He winces when he hears a crack. He stumbles weakly on his feet when he hears a shout.

"Batman, behind you!"

Bruce spins around to see a giant pink flower bursting out of the ground.

Everything else happens too quickly.

Robin pushes Bruce away, grunting with the heavy weight. The flower burps out a yellow powder, clouding Dick in an opaque cloud.

"Robin!" A scream stretches out of his throat. Poison Ivy flinches in surprise and has a glimpse of guilt before her expression cools away. She lifts a hand and the pollinated dust filters away. She takes a hesitant step back before she rides off on a vine.

Bruce pays her no attention as he skids over to Robin. His Robin, who was choking on a scream, whose face already glistening with sweat.

He comms Alfred and orders in a brittle voice to prepare a med eval.

"I will send your dinner back to Master Dick's room where I expect for you to finish your plate."

Bruce fidgets. "But I-"

Bruce shuts his mouth when Alfred sends him a look that says there is no room for argument.

He huffs out a breath and wraps his fingers around the doorknob. He closes his eyes and counts silently in his head and opens the door.

Dick lays silently in his bed and his chest slowly moving up and down is the only thing that brings Bruce comfort. He sits on the spare chair next to the bed.

He gently rakes through Dick's sweaty and matted hair. Dick grumbles and blinks his eyes open.

"Hey, kiddo," Bruce smiles in greeting.

"Bruce," Dick coughs out weakly. "Took you long enough."

The man holds back a wince as he brushes back a lock of hair.

"I was taking care of other priorities."

Dick shifts his head so Bruce's hand falls flat in the air. Bruce clears his throat and drops it back onto his lap.

"Right," Dick says after a moment of silence. "How's Ivy?"

Bruce fingers the bruises on his knuckles. "Back in Arkham."

Dick looks at Bruce in the eyes and his blues are foggy with fever. "That's not what I asked."

Bruce glances away and he scratches at a scab on a knuckle. "A bloody nose and bruised eye. That's it."

Bruce quickly eases Dick up when he starts to cough heavily.

"She didn't mean to."

"I know."

Bruce still remembers the guilt shining through her eyes as Bruce throws in a final punch.

Bruce sighs and repeats. "I know she didn't."

There's a knock at the door and Alfred enters with a plate of food and medicine.

"Here is your dinner, Master Bruce, and I do expect an empty plate when I return." Alfred turns to Dick. "And your medicine, Master Dick."

Both Dick and Bruce move to argue, but Alfred clears his throat loudly. "I do not want to hear any arguments."

With a pout, Dick swallows the medicine down. Bruce starts to eat, but at least he doesn't pull at the bottom of his lip.

"Master Bruce, I will be at the farmer's market early in the day tomorrow, so I expect you will be fine taking care of Master Dick for a couple of hours."

Dick sniffles loudly and grins lopsidedly. "I'll make sure he won't burn down the house, Alf," he says through half-lidded eyes.

Alfred smiles gently. "Yes, I will put my trust in you." He moves to pull the blanket closer to Dick's chin. "Now rest, Master Dick, sleep is the best cure."

"Now, Master Bruce, there's soup on the stove with instructions on how to reheat it on the fridge. Please, make sure he takes the medicine 30 minutes after he eats."

"Yes, yes Alfred," Bruce rolls his eyes and smiles. "Now, go or you'll get stuck in the morning traffic."

"I should be back within a couple of hours." He puts on his jacket and leaves.

Bruce sets to the kitchen and reads Alfred's instructions. He still manages to slightly burn the soup, but it's better than he could've hoped. He puts the soup on a tray and carefully walks upstairs to Dick's room.

Dick is still snoring gently. Bruce hates to wake him up, especially when he looks so peaceful, but Alfred did give him a rather strict schedule. Bruce places the tray on Dick's nightstand.

"Hey, Dick," Bruce shakes Dick's shoulder. "It's time for breakfast." The young boy groans but blinks awake.

"Here let me check your temperature."

Dick turns his head already used to the procedure.

Bruce puts the thermometer in his ear and takes it out when it beeps. Bruce lets out a sigh of relief. "It looks like your fever is finally going down."

Bruce goes to grab the soup when Dick says, "Bruuuuce, can I please eat it in the study?"

Bruce lets out a grimace and already feels his resolve breaking away. "Dick, I-"

"C'mon, Bruce, you gotta do some work anyway, right? The work which is in the study, rigggght?" Dick furrows his brows and juts out his lower lip. "Pleaaase, Bruce, I've been stuck in my room all week! I'm dying here!"

Dick grins when he hears Bruce sigh. "Alright, fine, but you'll have to finish all of your food then."

"You got it, captain!"

Dick grabs a folder on his other nightstand and a pencil. Bruce grabs the tray and lets Dick go ahead. Bruce carefully watches Dick climb down the stairs and into the study.

Dick plops onto the couch and Bruce sets the tray on his lap.

"Remember to finish all of it."

Both fall into silence as Dick starts to eat and Bruce goes over files for WE.

Dick shows off his clean plate once he finishes. He sets it down on the small coffee table and opens the folder and takes a paper and pencil from the flaps.

"What are you working on?" Bruce asks as he replaces one file with another.

"A calcudoku," Dick answers as he scribbles on his paper.

"A what?"

"It's similar to sudoku, but I have calculations to solve while thinking about what can go in the boxes."

Dick sighs and erases something on the paper and writes something again. He looks over the paper with a furrowed brow. "I think I'm done. Can you check it over?"

Dick folds the paper into an airplane and flings it over to Bruce's desk before the man can answer. Bruce unfolds the paper and starts to check Dick's work.

Bruce tries to hide his smile. He glances back up at Dick. The younger boy had already started on a new sheet. His hair is slightly damp with sweat and his tongue sticks out in concentration. "You have everything right," Bruce says with pride.

Dick grins at the response. Bruce lets out a breath of a laugh.

Dick groans when he hears Bruce's phone alarm ring.

"Please tell me that isn't what I think it means."

Bruce shakes the med bottle with a grim smile.

"Aw, c'mon, B, do I have to take it? I won't tell Alfred if you don't."

"Sorry, chum." Bruce rolls his eyes as he shakes two pills out. "Alfred's rules are law."

Dick's eyes start to shine and his bottom lip quivers.

"Ah, put those eyes away. Those won't work on stuff as important as this."

Dick's expression immediately darkens. "They make me so drowsy," he says with a high whine.

"Dick," Bruce replies with force.

Dick sighs as takes the pills and swallows them down with a gulp of water.

"Thank you. I know it sucks, but you just have to take it for a couple more days."

"I know," Dick softly replies with a tight smile.

The next time Bruce looks back up from his files, Dick is fast asleep. The man smiles as he gets back up once more. Bruce brushes Dick's bangs gently away from his eyes. He cleans the papers back into their folder and makes sure to note to check the rest of the completed sheets.

He groans only slightly when he picks the eleven-year-old. Small arms wrapped around his neck instinctively. Bruce shifts Dick gently making sure his head is cradled safely on his broad shoulders. Bruce winces when Dick moans quietly.

"Go back to sleep, chum," Bruce whispers over his shoulder. "I'm just taking you to your room."

"I can walk on my own." But Dick makes no move to slide off Bruce's back.

Bruce huffs out a laugh. "Sure, kiddo."

"You're lucky you're comfortable."

Bruce laughs again while shaking his head.

Bruce quietly climbs up to Dick's room. He tucks the blanket around his shoulders.

Bruce goes to leave but a small hand quickly wraps around his wrist.

"It's not your fault, B," a small voice croaks out.

Bruce freezes and doesn't turn around. The hand around his wrist feels so small. Bruce still remembers clasping it tightly while Dick lay unconscious in bed. "You were unconscious for two days," Bruce chokes out between gritted teeth. He still feels the fevered hands and hears the labored breathing.

Dick takes a breath as if he’s the one who’s looking for patience. "I'm getting better now. I have my appetite and everything."

Bruce finally turns around and says exasperatedly, "Dick!"

"Bruce," Dick replies in the same tone. His eyes, still foggy from sickness, somehow shine clear. "I'm fine." The young boy glances down at the wooden floor, all of a sudden shy, and glances back up at Bruce. "Just stay with me, okay?"

"Okay."

Bruce sits at the cushioned seat near Dick's bed.

"I still don't think it's your fault."

Bruce doesn't reply this time because how is going to explain to this young boy that it's on Bruce's shoulders to make sure nothing ever harms Dick? That if something does, Bruce isn't sure if he can handle it.

A book lands on Bruce's lap, breaking him out of his turmoiling thoughts.

Bruce picks it up and smooths the cover.

"Is this the French version of Robin Hood?"

Dick nods and answers with a shrug, "I wanted to learn a new language. Read it out loud to me. It'll be good oral practice."

Bruce opens to where a page is dog-eared. He is pretty sure that he is completely butchering the language and stumbles on one too many words, and Bruce is positive that once Dick gets better he's totally going to make fun of him, but Bruce doesn't really mind. Bruce continues to read softly even after he hears quiet snoring because he knows if he stops Dick is going to wake up and demand Bruce to continue.

Alfred comes home and the first thing he does is to check on his two charges. He opens the door in a way he knows it isn't going to squeak. The old man smiles when he finds both of them fast asleep.

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pl-panda · 5 years ago

Text

The vines that bind us - Chapter 8

Chapter 1 || Previous || Next

------

“I trust you to act responsibly. And as a Guardian, you probably should start learning magic anyway.”

“Let’s get started then. Please tell me I can curse Lie-la!”

“Mari!”

“Just kidding, alright?” She smiled innocently and Tikki shook her head.

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

Somewhere into the evening, Chloe called her to inform her that she was on her way back and she shouldn’t worry. When the blonde entered the room… it was a mess, using the word loosely. The walls were in all colors of the rainbow sans their original one. The room seemed to be double its size and Chloe was pretty sure her bed just got a fourth dimension added to it. There was also that the plants seemed to have taken over one corner and created their own kingdom. She could even see them raising a flag with Marigold Design and creations logo on it.

“Figures! I leave you for one afternoon…!” Chloe said with disdain while trying to step over what looked almost like a black hole.

“Chlo? Is that you?” Mari’s voice came from two and a half directions at the same time. The blonde had no idea how was it even possible.

“Isley! Get your pretty ass here so I can properly scold you!”

“Um… Kinda tied at the moment,” came an answer.

“I don’t want to hear it. I had a long day of scheming and I need my beauty sleep.” Chloe complained. “Get me my bed fixed at least.”

“Oh fine! Tikki! Spots on!” There was a pink light from two separate directions and suddenly Ladybug jumped out of the small hole in the ground. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

After the wave of shining bugs settled and the room was back to normal Mari detransformed and smiled apologetically at Chloe. “Sorry. Got carried away with the new book.”

“Picasso’s guide to architecture and interior design?” Chloe deadpanned.

“Nope,” The bluenette smiled and pulled a rather hefty tome from her bed to show it to her friend. “Someone dropped it inside our room when we were out. Tikki deemed it safe and taught me the basics.”

“I think you will need remedial lessons, given how our room looked. What exactly was the purpose of making my bed four-dimensional?”

“I might have tried to expand the room a bit, but I miscalculated a tiny bit. There is a surprising amount of math in magic.”

“Whatever. I would tell you how my date went, but I’m utterly exhausted now.” Chloe teased her friend. She expected the girl to beg her for the details. Instead, Mari pointed her arm at the bed.

“Pea and feather go along. Make this bed out of stone.” Her iridescent green and blue eyes flashed for a moment… and nothing happened. Chloe smiled triumphantly and tried to jump onto her bed, only to hit the cover hard. While on the outside, the bed looked like nothing changed, in reality, it was hard as the floor. Funnily enough, she could easily slip under the cover, but it still felt like lying on the floor with sheets of paper sewn together as a blanket.

“You’re mean!” She cried. “I’m now commandeering your bed.” Before Mari even understood what Chloe meant, the girl jumped under her covers and snuggled on one side. There was still enough space for Mari to join if she was brave enough.

“Ugh! That’s my bed!”

“Exactly. You can take mine if you like it enough to modify it.”

“Tikki!” Mari cried, hoping that at least the Kwami would support her.

“Nope. You’re the one that made the bed so now you must sleep in it.”

“Um…” Mari tried to look in the book for a counterspell, but in the end, she just pointed her hand on the bed. “Princes found her prince at last. Take the curse and…” she tried to quickly find some rhyme. “break the glass? Ups…”

The window suddenly exploded, but the bed glowed, and after checking it was okay she picked Chloe to move her over. Except it totally didn’t work and the blonde instead pulled her into the comfortable bed. The tired Mari was too exhausted, both emotionally and physically, to care. She just cuddled closer to her adopted sister for some comfort. And heat since there was now a hole instead of the window and it was February.

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

The next morning Mari and Chloe woke up in a similar mess to the day before. And once again they were clothed.

“Ugh… I should probably calm down on magic.” Mari stretched herself a bit to get ready. She quickly changed into the fresh version of her yesterday’s outfit and helped Chloe gather herself a new ‘something’ for the day’s work. Apparently, for the next step of her scheme, she needed to look like a perfect Parisian princess. Something about Media attention. Mari was too busy with her tablet to care.

She received a mail at 6 am that there was a slight change in the time of the press conference so she needed to forward it to the conference center before she even got to work. While eating breakfast she checked over the summary reaction about the public statement and emotions that accompanied the fallout. Predictably, the pictures served as a nice distraction, but also rallied the citizens behind the company. They treated it as someone making fun of the suffering company and flamed the Lila girl, even though the company said that she was also a victim. Well, there was a footnote about it.

“You know you don’t need to put so much work into it?” Chloe asked while eating her croissant.

“I do. But if I can’t manage it now, how am I supposed to one day make MDC as big of a brand as Gabriel?”

“By not working yourself into a coffin?”

“Well… Wait a moment.” Mari was interrupted when her phone ringed. She quickly picked the call and her smile was replaced with a frown. “I understand. I will be there soon. Please keep an eye on him and tell the security not to let any more paparazzi.” she hanged up.

“Trouble?” Chloe asked with a grin.

“I’m afraid to ask…”

“Damian is doing an errand for me. He is such a good sidekick.” The blonde smiled. Mari did not answer but urged her best friend to move on faster.

Since they stayed in their room for breakfast, neither girl wanting to deal with their moronic class longer than needed, they got down just in time… to see the bus leaving them in front of the hotel.

“Are you kidding me?” Chloe raised her hand. “We are in Gotham. Does that… that… Has she got any idea how dangerous is it?!”

“Said the girl that taunted the Riddler.” Mari deadpanned.

“He wouldn’t hurt me.” The blonde answered confidently.

“Anyway… we could call a taxi.” Chloe sneered at the idea, so Mari offered something else. “I could also test that portal spell…”

“Taxi!” The girl shouted. Mari just shook her head and pulled the mobile phone. After less than five minutes Chas Chandler rolled next to them in his cab.

“I was in the neighborhood.” He smiled.

“Nice seeing you sir.” Mari greeted him before pushing Chloe in the back seat and joining her.

“To the Wayne tower, please. I would appreciate it if you could get us there fast. I need to get my boss to do his work.” She hoped they would arrive before the class to see their faces.

Sadly, the cab got stuck in the traffic and it took them over an hour to arrive. When Mari entered the lobby, she was angry enough to turn into a ‘stern assistant’ mode. Not a nice place to be if you are on her way. She stormed past the security while flashing her badge. They didn’t dare to try to stop her.

“Get McKinsley to HR. And by the time I arrive I want Lila Rossi and Alya Cessaire to be sitting there!” The second one was directed to the receptionist, who nodded. So far everyone loved Mari, even in her bad mood. It didn’t stop them from being terrified.

Both she and Chloe got into the elevator. When the doors closed, the blonde grinned.

“I love it when you finally show your Gothamite side.”

She got no response from the angry Mari, but through the ride, her smirk did not disappear through the ride. Once they separated, the bluenette continued alone. Angry did not give her emotions justice. She was furious.

Once she finally got on the floor, she stormed through the corridors right to the head of the department’s office. Luckily for everyone, Lila and Alya were already there.

“Who do you think…” Alya started only to be silenced by a death stare from Mari. For the first time in her life, she realized that the bluenette was someone not to be trifled with.

“Apparently, since this morning I’m your superior.” Mari deadpanned. “Funny thing. I would probably only learn about this from your bragging later on if you didn’t decide, in all your stupidity, to write yourself reference in my name.” It was clear that she did not find it funny.

“Puh-lease. You bullied Lila since she came. I thought that it was only fair that you’ve repaid her somehow.” Alya babbled, already forgetting her earlier fear.

“So you take full responsibility for forging both your resume?” Mari asked with a raised eyebrow, wanting to have it said out loud for the record. Especially since Madame McKinsley was standing in the entrance.

“Of course. It was totally unfair that such a bully got all the privileges while hard-working Lila had nothing.”

The Head of the Human Resources department sent Mari a tired look that seemed to mean ‘is she for real?’ She was a woman in her thirties with neatly cut black hair and skin in the color of dark chocolate by the name Mrs. Alicia Lynch

“Oh… In that case, you’re disciplinarily fired.”

“What?!” Alya screamed.

“And I will make sure this incident finds itself into your acts,” Alicia said with a frown.

“You can’t…!” Alya was once more cut off, this time by madame McKinsley.

“They can. And you’re lucky that we are not pressing charges for attempted sabotage.”

“The security will show you out. The teacher and your guardians will be informed. Since the hotel is paid by Wayne Enterprise for the members of the interns’ program, you will need to find alternative accommodations or simply return to Paris. I’ll leave this to the teacher and parents to resolve.”

“But… But…” Alya wanted to argue. All blood left her face and she seemed close to passing out. A man in a suit, carrying the security badge helped her out of the chair and led her outside.

“Now about you.” Mari turned her gaze toward Lila, who so far was busy checking on her nails.

“Oh! This is ridiculous! I had nothing to do with it. I’m a victim too!”

Marigold turned to McKinsley, who looked dejected.

“We can’t fire her. She was hired for the six months period.”

“Mutual agreement?” Mari asked. She’s been researching ways to dissolve her contract faster. Sadly, she already knew the answer.

“Two months waiting period. Standard to ensure she doesn’t use any of her knowledge against us.” For Mari, it was a year when she couldn’t work for any other company. Luckily, running her own business was still on the table, as long as she stuck to restrictions.

A different idea formed in Blunette’s head. She smirked slightly. “Well, Miss Rossi, looks like you’re in luck. Welcome to Wayne Enterprises. I hope you didn’t have any great ideas.”

Lila gulped. “Was that a threat?”

“No. If I threatened you, you would know. You and your little attack dog forgot that this is not Paris. This is Gotham. Here, we play by my rules.” With that she spun around and left, typing on her tablet. Just before the doors closed, she tossed another sentence that drove the nail deeper. “And this time, there is no minion to do it for you.”

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

Marigold didn’t calm down before reaching the top floor. Her emotions subsided a bit, but she was still on edge.

“Ugh! How dare those stupid witches to try to use my name to sign their references! And that idiot who somehow believed them. He will definitely not get any bonus this month. Or next. At least they had enough common sense to call me. Except after the fact!” She was pacing in front of her desk.

Tikki peaked from the inner pocket of her jacket. “At least you could do something about it!” She cheered.

“True. I got rid of one trouble. Without her, I will have a chance for some peace…” She barely finished the sentence when there was a crash in the room next door. Immediately, she rushed inside to check. Turns out her boss for some reason decided to move the desk. He ended up knocking the computer over.

“Ehm.” She faux-coughed to get his attention.

“Oh! Um… I was just…” Tim tried to find some excuse.

“Trying to open the secret stash of coffee?”

“How do you…” he started to ask flabbergasted, but she interrupted him once more.

“I studied the schematics. And Sarah left me a note about it.” A smirk ghosted her stern face.

“Damn! Now I will need another hiding place.” Tim gathered himself from the ground. “Wait! You moved the desk by yourself?”

“Do I look that strong to you?” She asked, her face unmoving. Just because she came to hate liars didn’t mean she didn’t know how to bend the truth a little. And technically, she just avoided answering altogether.

“Whatever. You must’ve ordered the repair crew to move it then. I want my coffee.” He said pouting.

“Sir. I’m supposed to help you manage your time better. I am not simply your secretary.” Marigold informed him firmly. She checked with both Chloe and Nathalie what her responsibilities included.

“But you made that divine brew on Monday!”

“That was a gift for my first day of work.” Plus I had no idea what I was doing.

“But…”

“Enough buts for today. You have a meeting with Mr. Fox about the Friday presentation in half-an-hour. Did you familiarize yourself with the content of the email he sent you?”

“Ah! Of course, I did. I totally didn’t spend my night…”

“Then I would appreciate it if you spent the next half-an-hour on doing so.”

“B…” He didn’t even finish when her glare stopped him. She could pull Batstare better than the original.

“If you act like a proper CEO, I might think about making you some of my ‘divine brew’ as a reward.” She suggested and closed the door, leaving him to his own device. She had several calls to make and set other meetings

---------

It was two hours later when angry Caline Bustier demanded a meeting with her. Mari didn’t even think before redirecting her to HR. The teacher was supposed to be the chaperone of the group and look after them after work. She was also directly responsible for all of their actions. She was very displeased that now she had to take care of Alya for eight hours a day that used to be free time for her. So of course, she blamed everything on Marinette. This time, it backfired. She had to quickly give up any accusations before she ended up in an even worse situation.

Luckily, after that little incident, the day passed without any more surprises. She had half-a-mind to search the town for her mother in the evening. Since she was hired, she was now technically independent of the class. Chloe had a slip from her father that allowed her to basically ignore the teacher. The blonde convinced Mari that mindless wandering the city would only get her robbed. Or at least involved in attempted robbery since she could easily kick ass if she only wanted. Instead, Mari spent the afternoon shopping for materials and working on a new outfit for uncle Jagged that he ordered for his visit to Gotham in a month or so.

She also made a quick call to Paris to discuss things with her hire. The girl informed her that she would happily run the store a little longer. Mari promised to even consider to hire her permanently if she did well.

Chloe had another date scheming meeting with Damian Wayne. At this point, it was unclear what their relationship was. Good thing: neither did the tabloids. Mari promised to the blonde to hold back on the search for her mom until Friday afternoon. She also promised to take both Adrien and Chloe with her when she visited a contact in the local club. They would celebrate her getting a job and the first week over.

All would be great. If she didn’t spot a vigilante on the rooftop next to her (now fixed) window. Even then, it was Gotham. The bats were rather common at this point. It wasn’t like when she left and they were only starting. Batman was still mostly a myth back then, even after six years of work. Except this vigilante was clearly staking her room specifically. he even had binoculars that she was sure had night vision in them.

She opened the window and picked a pencil. With deadly precision she tossed it. The wooden tool sailed through the air until it hit the binoculars and broke one side of them. She huffed and closed the window before pulling the curtains closed. How rude.

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#Mother!Ivy #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #batman #dc #MLB #mlb x dc #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #BAMF Marinette #redeemed!chloe #Good!Adrien Agreste #maribat au

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matchasparrow · 4 years ago

Text

Exploration of a Maglor AU - part 3 - On Doriath and the fate of the Silmarils

Part 1 Part 2

Now the important question - the first kinslaying - what happens?

Dior has a Silmaril, her brothers need the Silmaril.

Maedhros sends letters after letters, asking, explaining, apologising.

There is no reply, no other answer than Dorinthian pride.

Maglor goes. She travels through the dense forests and spell woven woods, through wildlands and settlements of Nandors alone. Her sole company being the memory of Aredhel speaking to her.

She stands before the proud lords and ladies or Doriath, before beautiful Dior, and sings as Luthien sang before Mandos. She pours her grief and guilt and the darkness that is the doom. Sings of a future, free of blood oaths and darkness and hateful fueds. There were few dry eyes in the audience. But Dior still sits, eyes sombre but unglistening on Thingol’s throne. Even her voice does not have the power to erase the sins of the Noldor in the eyes of Luthien’s son.

She kneels. Both knees on the ground. Scarlet dress stained with mud spread out on pristine white marble floor. Voice still carrying the lingering notes of the song.

“Please. Give me a chance to make this right. “ she pleaded, tears flowing unabashed.

A heavy pause. They look into each other’s eyes, hooked and searching.

Dior waveringly stood, and treaded towards her. He bent down and delicately took the starlit gem from around his neck and dropped it into her palms.

“Then make it right.”

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

Or at least, that’s one version of the events.

In this version, Maglor collects the Silmarils. So how did Eonwe and the host of the Valar come to middle earth without Earendil and Elwing and the Silmaril? How did Earendil even meet Elwing?

The Silmaril leaves Doriath, Morgoth attacks. Doriath’s been vulnerable for years, and he wants revenge. The slaughter was merciless. Reinforcements poured in from Himring and the Pass of Aglon on Maedhros’ orders, but they were too late. Dior and Nimloth were dead, along with a fifth of the people in Doriath. Elwing survives, carried by her nursemaid and a horde of guards, they fled to Sirion along with the rest of their people. Elurin and Elured were missing. Taken by the enemy, perhaps. They hoped that they were dead. Weeks passed, and there were no taunts, no mock ransom from the enemy. And thereafter nothing were heard from the sons of Dior ever again.

(Perhaps, in the chaos of the invasion, the boys ran and ran, directionless and fearful, till they reached the dark lands of Nan Elmoch. There the boys clung unto each other, cold and famished in the abandoned, drowsy woods. They curled up under tall, unfamiliar trees as they breathed in air laced with heavy magic. - except - it was not wholly unfamiliar. They were the scions of Luthien, of Melian. And the life of the forest responded to these part Maian creatures. They unfolded their secrets to them - the sweet honey and rich purple fruits offered themselves up for their tastes, the low humming plants sang them to sleep at night, moss and vine stitched themselves up to be their blankets and cloaks. Leaves sheltered their way and white luminescent flowers bloomed for them, lighting their way to each other whenever they became separated. They were enchanted, and the enchanter. They loved these woods and the woods loved them. And together, they sunk to the bottom of the ocean as tall waves rolled over Beleriand.

Perhaps the trees again wove themselves into a net, warding the forest from the water, sealing themselves off from the world, and forever hence Elured and Elurin wandered the woods as princes of an Atlantis. )

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

Back to Maglor.

So there is a greater force this time since they were on heavy guard against an attack and reinforcements, though late, did arrive.

And the survivors were stronger, Sirion was a refugee camp, but it was also powerful - and now all the forces of middle earth were united, martyred by evil.

Maglor was a Feanorian. Her brothers felt no urge to snatch the Silmaril from her hands, so in turn, Maglor used the light of the Silmaril to help Sirion grow whenever she visited Sirion, which was often. The Feanorian forces defeated much of Morgoth’s forces when they attacked at Doriath, so Maglor could worry less about retribution and attack on their own forces, at least for the next few years - so Maglor, guilty about the sacrifice of Doriath, spent a lot of time with Elwing in Sirion, and almost helped raised her along with the courtiers and Celeborn and Galadriel.

Being at Sirion was an advantage in other ways too. It was at the crossroads of many lands and peoples, and a perfect place to perfect strategies and alliances.

Elros and Elrond are born. They adored Maglor with her stories and songs. And always they want more, more, more. Their hands always tugging on her dress and getting her to play catch with them on the beach.

---

They are stronger, but it is not enough.

It was peaceful. Too peaceful. The calm before the storm, the silence of a predator before he pounces.

Sirion and Himring and Nargothrond are attacked. They win. They lose more than a quarter of their people. Celegorm and Caranthir die. They cannot hold on much longer.

Idril and Tuor left, and they have not returned. Earendil sits at the docks every day, sometimes with his family. Elwing lace her fingers through his, but there is a disquiet and restlessness in his heart that she cannot understand.

Earendil sails. He comes back more tired and defeated every time. He cannot reach Valinor.

“He thinks he needs the Silmaril.” Elwing said to Maglor.

Maglor stands with her on the edge of the cliff, looking at the far horizon for lands that she has not seen in centuries. She sees nothing. She closes her eyes and searches within her bond with Nerdanel, and she feels nothing. This is the long defeat, and she will lose her brothers one by one, with or without the one Silmaril she has by her side. “I think so too.” she replied.

She gives the Silmaril to Earendil, and says nothing of it to her brothers. For all they know, the Silmaril is still with her. She could tell them, she suppose, what could they do to Earendil, far out at sea. But she is caught between lying to them, and betraying their trust in the worst way. She feels sick to the bones, as she answers them with cheerful letters from afar, casual to ease suspicion. “I’ll come to visit soon” She lied.

Could she tell Maedhros? Who’s now aloof and half-mad with grief? Curufin was the one brother she has never quite been able to control. They loved each other, despite everything - every fight, every hair pulled, every disappointed look - but Curufin would be the last person she would confess to. She could not bear looking into the ghost of her father’s face to tell him that she has given away his most prized creation (prized above his children, she’s sure) to the Sindar, all for a chance of bribing the Valar to their aid. A bitterness grows in her heart, and she cannot swallow it down. The Ambarrusa are good secret keepers, but she will not burden them ...with what? She asks herself. With the task of forgiving you? So you can feel absolved of your guilt? And feed your fantasy? The days without a reply or sign grew longer, and she began to despair.

---

Her brothers grow uneasy, something burns in their chest. They think it’s the other 2 Silmarils calling to them. “We must attack.” Curufin seethed at every opportunity, eager for revenge.

The time is indeed coming, Galadriel has sensed as much.

---

A new star appears in the night sky. And that’s when they knew. Hope and despair and fear jugged for space in her heart. But in the end she will not be conquered, she gathered her troops, checked the defenses, and prepared for attacks.

No letter of accusation and rage came from any of her brothers. No letters came at all. She writes to them, letters of confession and apologies and firm reasons. Still, there is no reply.

Finally, Maedhros writes a letter telling her to return to the gap, for they sensed an attack was imminent. It was signed “Regards, Maedhros Feanorian”

She goes.

The Ambarrussa dies. She never got to apologise to them face to face, nor hear their forgiveness. She would hold their hands again, hear them laugh, and run through the woods, free and unburdened, she resolved. She would not let them fade in the void. Curufin's empty eyes stare into her, and it burns her promise into her fea the way the oath burns into theirs.

---

The host from Valinor arrives.

They finally got the other 2 gems together, this time, she did not have to steal them.

Earendil descended from the night sky. He could not touch the ground, but there was no rule about her going up. The last 2 Feanorians stood on Vilgront and held the 3 Silmarils together for the first time in an Age. She feels no different, but Maedhros slump in relief. “We’re free’ he said, and he gave the Silmaril back to Earendil. “May your hope shine on middle earth and bring aid to all those who need it” He gave his blessings and turned to Maglor.

“Thank you, for eveything” and clasped her so tight she couldn’t breathe. She held him, wrapped her arms round his tall, slender frame and tried to picture that she’s embracing Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, Amras and...father.

She cries, tears flow unabashedly and she’s just so happy that they’re free - free from darkness, free to start anew, free to go home.

---

They readied the ships back to Aman. One Silmaril they gifted to Earendil, one they gifted to Gil-galad and Elrond, to give aid and light to whoever is in need in middle earth, one they brought with them back to middle earth, as a symbol of victory and remembrance.

When they go back, their brothers and mother are waiting for them on the shore. This time, the Valar were merciful.

#i realise that this probably should have just been an no oath Maglor!Au #but happy ending #there are other endings of course #maybe i'll post the other stuff later #maglor #Maglor AU #fem!Maglor #Silmarillion #Feanorians #Elurin #Elured #Elwing #Elrond #Valar #The Oath #Earendil #Doriath

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dreadfutures · 4 years ago

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And @crackinglamb who also tagged me!

I’ve had a really awful week but I’ve been slowly chipping away at this very important conversation between Ixchel and Solas. And I’d actually appreciate thoughts on this. I’ll just listen to whatever anyone has to say. This is long though so I’m going to put it under the cut.

Question: Specifically, I'm trying to navigate this complicated cause/effect and question of autonomy and individuality in their relationship, which happens to hold the weight of the apocalypse over both their heads in different ways. It is important that they both can operate as they wish, without fearing they will misstep and drive the other away

Ixchel definitely is one of the reasons Solas ultimately confronts some of his stubbornness/willful blindness, as his friend and someone he respects--it’s the way she lives her life and the way she hopes and fights and the world she believes in that ultimately makes him see more paths available than his din’an’shiral. It's not that she loves him or he loves her.

And he's aware that because of so many complications and questions about her resurrection, that she constantly feels like it might indeed be her love--and lovability--that’s holding back the apocalypse. And their relationship will never be equal and truly healthy until she stops carrying that burden. Somehow she needs to learn to trust that he has made his decision and will continue to make decisions based off of himself, and not her.

But also at the same time, he loves her, and she loves him, and they do help each other with like, reinforcing each other's hope, and reminding each other what they're fighting for, that the fight is worth it, and when the other one is tired, being able to prop them up and help them keep going as equals. There are the shadows of her own anxieties and depression that aren't entirely based in reality, but there are also these fears that are so deeply founded in reality. idk.

The Excerpt:

Ixchel and Solas finished bathing and washed their clothes—smiling like the foolish da'lenala neither of them had ever had the luxury to be. She was full of wine and laughter, and she knew that there would only be more waiting back in the Hold.

But as they dried off in the warm evening sun and she thought about the celebration of Hakkon's rebirth, her mind strayed to the name the Spirits of the Basin had given her, and what she had done to earn it. The shock and gratitude she had felt upon hearing herself called 'God-Song' had faded some, and now the chill of anxiety returned to the pit of her stomach. She shivered despite the golden light that surrounded them, and she felt Solas's attention shift from the sky down to her again. He did not speak, but she felt the question in his eyes on her bare back. "Vhenan," she began in a low voice, "should I… The Spirits called to Mythal through me. Was it her power that they summoned with that song? Or my own? Or theirs?" His grip around her waist tightened. "Do not be afraid," he said, but of course that solidified the cold tendrils of anxiety into hard, heavy dread in her gut. "The Spirits here are older than many," Solas said haltingly, "but they are still young. They remember only echoes of…'elf songs,' they call them. The echoes by themselves have power, even if the subjects of the songs cannot hear. That is the power of a prayer, spoken where the Veil is thin." He took a deep breath, and after a moment of consideration he sat up beside her. He rested one arm across his knees and began to trace idle patterns across her cursed forearm with the other. "I do not think she heard you." She stared across at his tense jaw, though his eyes remained on the horizon. "We summoned Flemeth at Mythal's altar in the Arbor Wilds, with a song," she whispered. He tilted his head slightly. "Did you not have the Well of Sorrows in your company?" "Ah." She gave a shuddering laugh as something, not quite relief, swept through her. "That's true." Solas responded with a shallow nod, but then, for a moment, his chest seemed filled with words. She waited, but he did not speak them before sighing again. "What is it?" she asked, and bit her lip. Solas slipped his arm around her waist to shift her closer, and then he sought out the Anchor. He spread her palm open, and with deliberate slowness, he dipped the pads of his fingers into the shining tear of magic her skin. It was as though he might slip through her hand and into the Fade that way. A vicious shudder wracked her frame; the penetration itself felt strange and dull, like a cramp, and yet the magic in her hand came to life with a hot flare. She could see the spirals of his orb across her skin, as she often could if she examined her palm closely, but now she could see the green tendrils of green rift magic as they wound their way up her wrist and her forearm. To her horror, it was clear that the Anchor had embedded itself almost halfway up to her elbow. She could feel Solas draw upon it with his concentration, and yet the reaching veins of the Anchor did not retreat. The damage had been done. Her fingers had curled around his instinctively, until the bones in his hand seemed to creak in protest. "I will not let them have you," he said. The finality with which he spoke made her feel as though he were not quite answering her question. Some other conversation had played out in his mind, and he had come to this answer. She did not know exactly whether he spoke of Flemeth and Mythal, or even perhaps the all-consuming power of the Anchor. She stared down at their joined hands, eyes burning, which was likely a sign that she was too exhausted to handle these conversations. When she heard and saw the resolve in him, she should have been able to stifle the part of her that remembered how he spoke to her of the din'an'shiral he must walk alone. She should not have immediately been afraid that the calculation he had done in his head was about his loyalties. It should have been a settled matter, and yet, still, it was not. Ixchel took a deep breath and tried to swallow that part of her. "I am more concerned about what she might do with you, Solas," she said truthfully. "How did I end up with Old God's spent soul within me? How did he come to possess it, when Mythal had taken it? Was he moving to the beat of her drum—knowingly, or not?" She saw the slightest twitch of his ear and knew that she had touched on a raw topic there, too. But this was a better topic, and one that was just as important for her to know the answer to. "If I have enticed you from the path that she wanted you on… Should I not be afraid, to stand against Mythal?" He turned his head abruptly, and she met his piercing gray eyes dead-on. After a moment's consideration, he reached around her to stroke her cheek gently with the backs of his knuckles. And she knew immediately that he had heard, beneath this line of questioning, the doubt that still ate at her. There was no challenge in his gaze, but the look with which he pinned her was not soft, either. "My loyalty is to our People above all else," he said, to make her heart seize in her chest. He continued in a measured voice that was heavy with blood and wine. "In Wycome. In Halamshiral. In Serault, and Minrathous, in Skyhold, and across the Veil… If Mythal indeed remains, she would not keep me from such a duty. For all the fearsome tales of the Witch of the Wilds, I cannot believe the All-Mother, if she truly remains, would undercut that work." She gripped his hand ever tighter. "And you… You are not afraid of Mythal," he said, a bitter note coloring his words. "You are afraid of walking your path alone. You are afraid that you cannot hold the Dread Wolf at bay with the strength of your love. And you cannot. You have not." His breath was hot across her face as he drew closer—not to kiss her, of course not, but rather as though he might impress upon her the full weight of his words with the strength in his silver eyes. "You are the Champion of the People. You have sworn, and I have believed." He squeezed her hand back, to emphasize his point. "For as long as you hold true to your purpose, you are my Champion, 'ma'lath, 'ma'av'in. But as you insisted, you chose yourself first. You gave yourself a name, decided its meaning." He brushed her hair behind her ear and then settled his hand firmly at the back of her neck, fingers tangled in her hair to hold her, ground her. He gave her the smallest shake. "Let me do the same." Ixchel swallowed. "Hope is a choice," she murmured. "Yes," he replied, "it is. So is trust." He kissed her gently then, and she tried to lose herself to it. The hand at the back of her neck slipped back to her ribs, to pull her close against his chest. She could feel his heart beat steadily beneath their skin, a steady, certain rhythm. She sighed into his mouth, and he hummed in response. "Ir abelas," she whispered as she broke away. They rested their foreheads together, eyes closed. "Do not be," he said, more gently than before. He raised their joined hands between them and traced the scar that ran down her chest, over her heart. "For all your stalwart strength, Ixchel, for all that you have reforged yourself from ruin, you cannot be blamed for fearing the one who shattered you. Especially when you have given him the very tools with which to shatter you again." Ixchel lost her breath as his words impacted her physically, and she opened her eyes to see that he had, too. For a moment, they were no longer silver—but rather they burned with the blue light of a god's power. That terrible gaze was focused on something deep within her chest…something that responded, and reflected his power back at him in painful resonance. "If there is one burden you can put down," he said, voice falling to a lilting whisper, "it is that you still carry the responsibility of the death of a world in your heart. Please… You must know it was not your failure." The magic in his eyes faded, and his lashes flicked up as he caught her staring at him. There were creases of grief at the corners of his eyes. "My mistakes will always be my own." The grief in his face might have seemed incongruent with the hard and heavy weight of his words, but she could feel how they hurt him as much as they hurt her. "I have told you that you have changed everything, but it was not your love for me, nor even my love for you, that has changed my course. It is the harm I have done to the world, the harm I know I might yet do, that stays my hand. Ane mala vasreëm." Perhaps it was the tears he saw well up in her eyes, or maybe it was simply his anxious mind trying to cut off any possible way he could hurt her more than he had already, but his own face was suddenly torn with pain and apology. "In saying this, I might seem to take away from your perceived victory—" "No," she said suddenly. "Solas, I do not need to believe it a war between us." She freed her hands from his so she could brush briefly at her eyes. "Thank you. I have only ever cared for your path as a friend... I love you, but--" she could not stem the flow of her tears, and she laughed at herself. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He obliged and held her tightly; warm, smooth skin pressed against her rough constellation of scars, and she was enveloped in his smell, his warmth, his magic. She knew that she was safe in his embrace. And she knew that he was right. Perhaps she could have thwarted the Dread Wolf's plans, had she not killed herself. But he had chosen his path, chosen to excise his heart and give it to her, and she had been right to think that to carry it—to redeem it, to return it—was a futile task. Solas had never betrayed her. He had never promised anything. Cole was right: Solas was only ever his own. It was Solas who had watched her walk her path. Solas had chosen to follow, open-eyed. And ultimately, it would be Solas who chose to stay. Life is a story written by two hands, after all.

#wip wednesday #btv wip wednesday #btv #solavellan #concrit welcome

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sxcret-garden-archive · 4 years ago

Text

4th Reverie ✧ You, who is like a Knight in Shining Armor [M]

✧ A Daydream Like You Series ✧ The Boyz Sangyeon x fem. reader ✧ feat. some other members ✧ words: ~4k ✧ genre: fluff, smut, hints of angst, friends with benefits, college AU, slow burn ✧ warnings: choking

Author’s note: Yes!! I’m finally back with another finished part of this series^^ I’m really sorry for the long wait, and I hope you all continue to enjoy my writing~

← previous Chapter | next Chapter →

Though the thing with Chansung has been resolved, you’re still not completely freed from your stress. The exam that you’re so worried about is still just around the corner, to be precise right after the weekend, and so Sangyeon offered to help you study for it. It was the day after he cheered you up because of the Chansung thing, and you both went to college in a good mood. However, over the course of the day reality started to hit you again, and you realized with how little time you had left to study, it was near impossible for you to remember the whole subject by yourself. That afternoon he found you near the vending machine, in a gloomy mood with your head held low, the tension in your whole body visible even from far away. He approached you silently and put his hands on your shoulders, kneading them a few times and asking what’s wrong.

“The exam… I feel like I can’t possibly study everything in time,” you told him. And so you’re here now, on a Friday afternoon, after all your classes for the week ended. You sit at the table in Sangyeon’s flat, spreading your books and notes out before you.

“That’s everything you have left?” he asks while leaning over your shoulder to get a clear overview. “That’s totally doable,” he adds.

“Is it really?” You shoot him a look in disbelief. “I feel like if I try to force just one more fact into my brain it’s going to explode…” He shakes his head and with a smile he puts his index finger over your lips to shut you up.

“We can do this. You just need to trust me, hm? And maybe when we’re done…” He gets up and walks around the table. “I might have a little reward for you.” He shoots you an unmistakable look, making you guess what kind of prize he’s hinting at. You feel your determination rise at the thought of it, and so you start off by showing him the parts you don’t understand.

It was only yesterday that you and Sangyeon had decided to try out what it’s like to be FWB - friends with benefits. You somehow both agreed that it isn’t something bad for close friends to have sex with each other - after all a friendship should mean that a basis of trust and good communication is already given. Of course you also made some rules, like if one of you starts dating someone you would have to stop the friends with benefits thing immediately, to respect the other’s relationship. There is also the agreement that you could basically do anything the both of you are comfortable with, except for kissing the other on the lips. You both think that is more of a love declaration for couples, and since you two are merely friends and not in love with each other, you decided to stay away from that. And then there was your wish not to tell anyone about it. You feel like most people wouldn’t understand, and Sangyeon too agreed to that. Nobody needs to know what the two of you do in private.

You groan. Your head feels like it’s about to burst and your neck and shoulders have gone stiff from the stress of the last few days and from sitting down and studying 24/7. Three hours have passed since you started working through your coursebook with your best friend and you can’t but wonder how he manages to still look this awake, while you feel like you just aged ten years.

“Need a break?” he asks, furrowing his brows as he looks at your exhausted figure. You peek at his face, seeing that he pities you in your current state, but you also know he won’t let you leave his place before you haven’t studied everything you need to know. You already told your parents you’d be away overnight, maybe even until Sunday, and when you assured them you’re only with your best friend Sangyeon they were relieved. They first met him when you were in highschool, and he always made sure to only show his best sides to them, so especially your mother soon became very fond of him. Now everytime he came over she treated him like her own long lost son, offering him all kinds of food whenever possible. It was somehow adorable to watch, though some days she took it so far that you got a bit annoyed by her behaviour, wondering why she didn’t treat you with such hospitality everytime you came home from school. You didn’t take offense in it though, knowing full well that this situation was a lot better than her disliking your friend. And even now that he barely visits your house, your mother frequently asks how he’s doing and if he doesn’t want to come over for dinner some time.

“I’ll make you some tea if you want?” Sangyeon offers, already standing up from his seat. “Or should we order dinner and then try to work through a few more pages?” You nod, still slouched down on the table in front of you.

“Food sounds nice,” you mumble. He doesn’t hold back a chuckle at how destroyed and out of energy you seem, and before taking out his phone so you can order your food he puts his warm hand on top of your head, gently ruffling your hair.

“That will give you some energy back,” he promises. He lets you take a short nap after placing the order, and only wakes you up when the food arrives and he puts away your books to place your dinner on the table instead. You lift your head, looking around for a short while so that your sleepy mind can comprehend what’s going on.

“Should I help?” you then ask, but your friend is already setting out everything in front of you.

“I’m basically done here, so no need.” You enjoy your dinner together, and by the end of it you feel like you ate a little too much, because you can clearly feel the weight of the meal in your stomach.

“Ugh, another nap would be nice now!” you exclaim, already closing your eyes as you lean back in your chair. You hear Sangyeon let out a short laugh, before he gets up to bring whatever he can carry to his small kitchen.

“We’re not sleeping now,” he reminds you as he passes you by, and you force yourself to get up as well to help him clean the table.

“But,” you start mumbling when you’re standing next to him in the kitchen, throwing away the waste, “can’t we stop here for today? I think I did well already!”

“Do you want to pass on Monday or do you not?” he asks to challenge you.

“...of course,” you answer silently and groan. He grabs your chin with his hand, lifting it up so you would look at him.

“Then be a good girl and study some more with me. One more hour, what do you say?” You feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks as he calls you that. Everything that came afterwards just completely flew over your head. You gulp, sure that he can feel it with his hand so close to your throat. You feel a sudden impulse, and your skin starts itching from wanting to be touched. You reach for his wrist and wrap your fingers around it.

“If I’m a good girl and study some more… can we try something in return?” you ask, your voice barely audible. Still he listens to your every word with open ears.

“What is it?” A shiver runs down your spine at the mere thought of it, and you signal him to let go of your chin. Then you guide his hand just a little further down, so he has full access to your throat. His fingertips are barely touching your skin there, still you feel an overwhelming sensation from that alone. “I see,” he states, watching even your tiniest reaction with great interest. An almost evil smirk plays around his lips, then he takes his hand away with ease, as your grip on his wrist became weak as soon as he touched your neck. “Come on, let’s go back to studying,” he says and takes your hand to walk you back to the small living room area that’s connected to the kitchen, while his thumb draws circles on the back of it. You can still feel your heart pounding all throughout your body when you put your things back on the table and try to regain your focus to study some more.

Exactly one hour and ten minutes have passed when you reach the end of the chapter and you lean back in your chair, letting out the biggest sigh ever. Sangyeon claps and smiles widely, praising you for pulling through so long.

“You really did it!” he says. “I didn’t think we’d be able to finish this topic today, but you did it!”

“It’s all because of you though…” you mumble while staring at the ceiling, somewhat lifelessly.

“What are you saying, you did most of the work!” He closes your books and notes and puts them aside, then he walks over to you to give you a hug. “Really, you did well.” You smile at his kind words, then he adds, “Now shower?”

“What about my reward?” you pout up at him. He leans down to kiss your neck.

“First we take a hot shower, okay?” His voice is no more than a whisper, and you feel unable to say no to him, so you follow him along to the bathroom. This time you brought your own clothes, since you already knew you’d stay the night, but he doesn’t leave you the time to fish them out of your bag before dragging you to his bathroom and helping you out of the shirt and the pants that you’ve been wearing all day. You too lend him a hand with taking his clothes off, and you stay close to him, holding onto his bare shoulders as he navigates the two of you into his shower. It’s a bit narrow, but if you stay closely together there’s space for the two of you. You sigh and feel your muscles relax when the hot water hits your body, and Sangyeon wraps his trained arms around your waist and lowers his face into your neck. In between kisses he keeps praising you, telling you how well you studied today and that you listened to all his explanations so well. One of his hands finds its way into your hair, starting to massage your scalp, and you just lean into him, enjoying his soothing touches. You get on tiptoes to scatter kisses and little bites all over his neck as well, pressing your body against his, but you receive a pull of your hair that would’ve made you stumble backwards if it wasn’t for him holding your body securely. He lifts his head and makes you look at him.

“Not yet, baby,” he whispers, and he puts his fingers over your lips. You look up at him pleadingly, but the spark in his eyes tells you he would make you wait. He reaches for the shampoo bottle standing in the shower right next to his shoulder, and he starts washing your hair for you, before moving on to the rest of your body, making sure you’re clean everywhere. His hands linger a little longer on certain areas, like your chest or your butt, or between your legs, and everytime he removes his hands from them to put them elsewhere you feel like you’re going crazy from the deprivation of touch. When he’s done and it’s your turn to help him clean himself, he doesn’t want to let you help him at first, claiming that you should be the one rewarded for your hard work today, but you don’t let the opportunity to tease him back be taken from you. And so, you do exactly the same he just did to you, spending more time than necessary tending to the spots he seems to enjoy being touched at more than others, and then taking your hands away to see the slight disappointment on his face. You’re having way too much fun watching his reactions, and so, when you’ve worked your way down his upper body, fully aware he got hard by now, you start jerking him off. The moment you wrap your hand around him, he opens his eyes to give you a glare, serving as a warning, though he doesn’t stop you as you move your hand up and down his length painfully slowly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, voice kept low. You’re still watching, amusement apparent in your expression, unable to take your eyes off his face. His look is still resting calmly on you so far, but from how his breathing is starting to get heavier you can tell he won’t stay calm much longer. And you’re right, because mere seconds later, he grabs your wrists and lifts them up above your head, making your back crash into the shower wall somewhat ungently. He leans in, water dripping onto your chest and left shoulder from his wet hair.

“We should end this here,” he states, his voice almost sounding like a growl so close to your ear. Then he turns off the water at once and steps out of the shower with you, wrapping the both of you into a towel and making sure you’re somewhat dry, before he picks you up and carries you to his bedroom, setting you down on the sheets. He puts his own towel over the pillows to prevent your wet hair from soaking them with water, and then he opens your towel before crawling on top of you. For a while he watches you as you watch him, tense from curiousity as to what he would do next, and you feel your body tensing up even more when his finger traces your jaw, and then the side of your neck. You can’t move, and your eyelids involuntarily flutter shut when he wraps his hand around your throat. All strength leaves you at such a simple motion, and you open your eyes to look at him when he speaks, silently, only meant for your ears.

“I didn’t know it would affect you this much,” he says, a faint smile playing around his lips. “Your pulse just went up an insane amount.” You weren’t aware of it, but now that he mentions it you must admit it yourself. Your heart is beating like crazy, and you know it’s mostly because of where he’s currently resting his hand. It’s like you don’t have any control over yourself in this particular moment, and you notice it too when he starts kissing your collarbones and your chest, or when his other hand starts roaming your body, leaving hot touches all over you, and you feel yourself unable to resist the urge to be even closer to him. You lift up your legs, hoping he would notice the desperate gesture, and very slowly he stops trailing kisses in between your breasts and he looks up to make eye contact with you.

“Please,” you mouth, while giving him the most pleading look you can muster, and you flinch when his hand leaves your neck, wanders down your body, and then takes a hold of your thigh. He squeezes it softly, and then lets his fingertips glide to the inside of it, touching your wet core. Without losing any time, he pushes a finger inside, then another one, stretching you out and making sure you’re wet enough for him. That alone makes you unable to hold back your moans, and you throw your arms around his shoulders, while you move your hips according to his touches. You call out his name right next to his ear, and it feels like that causes him to become more eager to continue. So he pulls out his fingers and places both hands next to your upper body.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he whispers, and while watching your every expression closely, he pushes into you. You cry out from the pleasure of finally receiving what you’ve been waiting for, and your hands, that slid down to his upper arms, are now holding onto him, your fingernails sinking into his skin as he starts rolling his hips into you slowly. You whimper at every single one of his movements, and with his help you wrap your legs around his hips, to allow him to gain better access. You think you’re losing your mind when he finds that perfect spot deep inside of you.

“Now let me try something again, baby,” he mutters, and before you can start to think about what he’s hinting at, you find his fingers wrapped around your throat, applying just a little bit of pressure. However, even this amount is enough to make your head go blank, and you give yourself up to him completely, cumming hard around him only seconds later. He loosens his grip on you when he’s sure you’re done and he lets you catch your breath, before you let go of his arms and guide the hand that was around your throat just now up to your mouth. You make sure to keep eye contact with him as you start sucking on his fingers. He watches you, and like all reason has just flown out the window for him as well, you feel his hips speeding up quickly. It takes no longer than a minute for him to come undone inside of you as well, and he collapses on top of you, the both of you trying to catch your breath.

“You did well today,” Sangyeon praises you as his fingers comb through your hair. “I’m really proud of you.” Curling up together under the warm blanket you fall asleep that night, while he places soft kisses in your neck and whispers sweet words of praise into your ears.

It’s Monday afternoon. You’re walking out of class right beside Kevin, closely followed by Changmin and Chanhee after finishing your exam. You feel relieved that it’s finally over, and you’re also a little proud of yourself because you were able to answer every single question, and though you’re not sure if you answered everything right, you have a good feeling about it. Kevin too seems to have done well, as there’s a smug smile on his face, and the whining coming from behind you along with Chanhee’s comforting words makes you assume Changmin didn’t have so much luck.

“It’ll be alright, you just need to pass,” you can hear Chanhee repeatedly saying.

“I know, I know,” his best friend brushes it off. “I just wanted to do better than just pass.”

“If you’re sure you passed then you already did well,” you throw over your shoulder. “Everything else are just extra cookies!” You repeat what Sangyeon had said to you over the phone the day before to calm you down before falling asleep. You left his place in the late afternoon to come home and get a home-cooked meal and then a good night’s sleep for gaining the energy you needed today. And though you were pretty calm most of the day, the nervousness overcame you again in the evening, but with just a few reassuring words by your best friend you managed to calm down enough to sleep on time. Thinking about it, your chest fills with warmth and with gratefulness.

“Want to go grab a bite to eat?” Kevin suggests, directed to the rest of you. “I think we all deserve a good meal now.” You agree and settle on a restaurant near your campus, where the four of you all order way too much food. So when you feel like you can’t eat anymore you call over the rest of the guys, but only the second years can make some time to help you finish the food. You would’ve loved to see Sangyeon too, but you know he has a difficult class right now, and suddenly a slight feeling of guilt overcomes you. You don’t even know if maybe he had some homework or some studying to do for today as well, but still he chose to spend the whole weekend with you, so that you would feel well prepared for today’s exam. You sigh as you stuff a bite of food into your mouth, and you chew slowly because really you’ve been feeling full for quite a while now. Why does he always do this…? you ask yourself. He shouldn’t make so many sacrifices for me… It’s not that you’re not beyond thankful to have a caring and kind friend like him, but you don’t want him to spend all his time and energy on you. He should take care of himself as well, and not always try to take so much responsibility for you. And though you don’t want him to do that much for you, it makes you smile. His smiling face from when he tried to explain something to you in various ways because it just wouldn’t get into your head pops up in front of your inner eye, and you think of him with a certain fondness in your heart.

Have you always felt that strongly about him? You feel like something’s creeping up to you slowly and inaudibly, something like a realization of some kind, and as a panic reaction you shove it away. It’s only natural that my feelings change a bit… you try to reassure yourself. Of course I’d feel different about someone I have sex with. I mean… I bet it’s no different for him. We’re still best friends! You nod to yourself. Yes, that’s how it must be and that’s how it will stay.

“Are you okay?” Kevin interrupts your train of thought and you flinch upon hearing his voice right next to you. The look on his face is a concerned one, and you flinch again when someone hits your back and you hear Jaehyun talk with a full mouth on your other side.

“Thinking about a boyfriend?” he teases you and grins. The corners of Kevin’s mouth curl up too, though he doesn’t seem as amused as your older friend.

“I don’t have one!” you correct him, though your cheeks heat up slightly, and knowing yourself you’re sure they can both see. Kevin points at a dish at the far end of the table and asks Jaehyun to go and try that, so without a second thought he dashes off. You shoot the guy sitting on your left a thankful look, to which he nods, as if to say “no big deal”.

With the help of everyone you finish the meal in no time and split the bill equally, despite the older guys offering to pay for everyone, and then you split up, either to go home, to study in the library, or to leave for an evening class. You yourself find your feet carrying you to the vending machine, as if you had already felt who you’d run into there. With a big grin on your face and your eyes focused on his back as he’s trying to choose today’s drink, you dash towards him and give Sangyeon a big backhug, which would’ve almost made him crash nose first into the glass of the machine.

“Whoa, what’s up with you?” he asks, raising his voice a bit too much out of surprise. He turns around as soon as you let go of him and from the grin all over your face he can tell something good must’ve happened. “Did the exam go well?” he asks, showing a toothy smile. You nod strongly.

“All thanks to you,” you add and he ruffles through your hair gently.

“Don’t say that. I merely helped a bit,” he states, but you won’t let him downplay his effort like that. You shake your head.

“Without you I couldn’t have done it,” you say, doing your best to sound as convincing as possible. “I really don’t think I could live without you at this point.” That came out a bit more dramatic than you wanted it too, but suddenly there is a new expression on Sangyeon’s face that you’ve never seen before. You’re not exactly sure what it means, but it seems like a mixture of surprise and… sadness? “Did I say something wrong?” you ask, not wanting to hurt him.

“No, no,” he assures while giving you a warm smile. His usual dreamy look returns to his eyes and makes you unable to look away from his handsome features. “Everything’s fine.” He steps closer and traps you in a loose hug, putting his hand on your head carefully and holding you close for a moment. “I’m glad your exam went well. You did well.”

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