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whatanoof · 3 years

Text

A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #sex pollen #pining fools #pining #fluff #feelings #smut

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snowdream · 3 years

Note

🌺✨🔔

Thank you so much for the ask ^^

🌺 What is your current favourite WIP?

Hm, my favourite is probably my WIP 'Gone with the Snow'. It‘s a multi-chapter project, yet not so long that I might never finish it. It’s my favourite because I aimed for a sophisticated writing style and a more mature, serious setting/plot than I usually do. Let me give you the first sentence for illustration:

Shrouds of mist gathered at the bottom of the valley, adding a sense of insubstantiality and mysticism to the quiescent winter forest.

✨ Who are your favourite characters to write?

My favourite characters to write are closely related to my favourite characters in general // plus a few a characters that I don’t consider a favourite, but still love writing for varying reasons:

FFXIV: Honoroit, Emmannellain, Alphinaud // the Fortemps steward

Zorro: Felipe // Mendoza

Digimon: Matt, TK // Tai

That said, there are also characters that I love but just can’t write about, namely Kari from Digimon and the whole FMA fandom. In terms of FMA, I feel like Hiromu Arakawa told every story that was worth telling. While I don’t mind reading FMA fanfiction, whenever I try to write some myself, I feel like I am disgracing her wonderful work.

🔔 What’s one thing you love about the way you write?

I am very self-critical, so that’s a tough question… I guess I try to stay true to the characters I write about, regardless of my personal opinion of them. I wouldn’t like to read someone bashing my favourite character, so I try to treat all characters kindly.

Other than that, I love playing with language which I see rather few authors do. Different characters, different moods and different genres require different words. A sky that is blue in a children's book might be azure in an adult novel. Sunlight might be bright to a happy character but glaring to an annoyed character. You can say, 'Oh. That was bad.' or you can say, 'Oh. Oh no… No no no no no no!'

🌊 Share a snippet of your latest WIP!

(including this here; it’s from a second ask and I didn‘t want to make two posts for one topic)

Uh… My latest WIP is not nearly in a state where I can post anything yet ^^, I hope this one is okay instead: It’s one of my latest WIPs, and it features Emmanellain and Hildibrand solving a case together.

—

“For she means so much to me - she is my trusted aide and loyal companion!” master Hildibrand exclaimed. Emmanellain nodded with a display of enthusiasm and seriousness that would have made Honoroit proud if it hadn’t concerned such a ridiculous topic.

“I entirely understand!” Emmanellain cried fervidly. “For I also have a trusted aid!”

He flailed an arm in Honoroit’s general direction, signaling for him to join them. Oh goodness…

Honoroit slunk nearer, hoping to avert the worst by keeping some distance from his lord. No such luck. The moment he was within Emmanellain’s reach, the man wrapped an arm around him and drew him against his side, violently enough so that Honoroit stumbled and nearly landed face-down on the floor.

Emmanellain didn‘t even notice. He greened, practically beaming with affection and pride.

“This is Honoroit,” he introduced gravely. “He is my Nashu!”

Honoroit did a double take, gaping up at his master with stupefaction.

“My lord!” he protested, not quite decided whether he should be embarrassed or offended. “I am neither a miqo'te nor a maiden!”

#ffxiv fanfiction #writers asks #ask meme #emmanellain de fortemps #honoroit banlardois

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dragoonaway · 4 years

Text

Death was just another aspect of the duty and the call. It was an ever present reminder of the fragility of life, no matter how strong, how close to immortal one was, no matter who was Blessed or deemed a heretic. Eventually it would claim everyone, no matter their years, no matter their species.

Did it always have to be so forceful though? To have life taken like that? Slaying monsters was one thing, but to watch a friend take a fatal blow to save you, it broke her. It broke the stoic figure that the Warrior of Light was, this “beacon of hope” for the Scions and the Alliance. They would never know the quarrels behind the silver eyes that looked steadfast at the threat before them without a blink of fear.

And while she was confident and did not fear the great beings she faced, death was very real. The stress that sat upon her shoulders like the weight of the world and all the stars was far too great to bear at times.

The chilling winds of Coerthas stung at her cheeks, making its way past the jagged edges of her armor and underneath the layers beyond. The cold felt good, easing her aching muscles with its frozen embrace. You need time to rest, Alphinaud had said, despite also rushing her to do something that he could not do himself. A petty maid for all the troubles of every nation.

She had grown resentful of it. Each migraine from the Echo, each jolt in her heart as the Crystal reconnected with her, and it all seemed to revolve around her tidings as the second Azure Dragoon, and this great warrior to lead them back to the straight and narrow.

The snow beside her, on this lonely wall facing the abyss, high above any ground, was disturbed silently. Too quiet for the average person, just loud enough for the one who shared the same bond.

The Azure Dragoons shared the storm together in comfortable solace. Their Drachen armor stood out as dark silhouettes against the white wall of snow, begging the likeness of the great beasts they slew just weeks before. They had grown closer over the past couple months, the journey that had brought them to this point pushing them into dire straits. It was easy when individuals of great power also shared the dark depths of loss and vengeance.

“It should have been me.” She broke the silence first, her voice rough with the wreckage she held inside. “The spear of light or whatever the fuck it was. I should have been the one to go. It was meant for me.” The woman didn’t bother to look up from her stare into the abyss, knowing she’d lose all composure.

Estinien took a moment in his response, himself feeling wrought with grief and yet passionate anger against the people who had made this great warrior feel such a way. “He did as what you would have done. What all of us would have done. To serve and protect. You needn’t blame yourself for his death.” The deep rumble of his voice was of some comfort to the woman, who had now shifted to play with the silver rings on her horns. He could see the scales that laced up her clavicle and neck shift and shiver with whatever emotion she held back.

“Each step I have taken towards this ideal of greater good has always ended with me off for the worst of it. Every errand I run for the fools that hope for a united front and goals of one, since they apparently cannot undertake such ordeals themselves, I am always stuck with the shit end of the stuck. They tell me to rest and then try to send me off once more.” The Power that was within her welled up and swirled around her bruised body, the distinctive features of a dragon crawling through the air from this mist that she projected. “They are so quick to send me to my death and come up with these grand plans, and act as though they’ve lost everything when it doesn’t work out, and yet don’t stop to think of the horrors that I have dealt with.” The power that was released was quick and short, yet an avalanche tumbled in the near distance from the impact that it sent.

Estinien was beyond his own fury, and he had his reservations when it came to how the warrior was treated. He didn’t dare let his opinions slip at the wrong moment though, for fear of not wanting to upset someone who has changed his life in such a drastic way. But he had no words of his own, too infuriated to know what to do. The loss of Haurchefant was felt between all of them, but it had hit his dragoon the worst, no matter if she let it show or not.

“Líadan.” He used her name, not her title nor calling her a ‘friend’ since it did not feel like that this time around. “While the deeds you do are great and many, you are still you. The Scions do not define who you are, and while times seem to always be pressing, you are allowed a reprieve. I admit that I am not a fan of the way they treat you as their dog, but I can only watch on as you continue towards greatness, and am lucky that I even share the same air and battle.” The clawed glove hesitated for a second before it reached out, pulling her own from the horn and holding it with a gentleness that she did not expect from this rough man. For a moment, she didn’t do much of anything, still as the rock she sat on and as cold the ice across its surface, but then her grip closed on his and for that small bit she felt like she had a tether to this world. That maybe she wouldn’t get lost in the darkness that was vengeance and despair.

But again, the universe reminded her of who she was, and once again she was plagued with flashes of images and the unclear voices of the aether. Her mind felt like it was split in two by a hot blade, pain piercing through her skull far beyond after the images subsided. The woman was unaware for a moment of the other dragoon holding her, nor did she remember being moved from the wall to the stone ground of Ishgard.

The man’s voice came back into existence after a moment of ringing, and as her vision slowly returned, she saw the wrought of concern make lines appear that she could not recall seeing. There wasn’t much for the warrior to say, however. All she could do was give up for the moment and let her helmet rest on his pauldrons, the protective warmth that held her being all she needed right now while she stopped being the Warrior of Light and instead an Au Ra that was tired.

#dont mind me im just fuckin writin #ffxiv #ff14 #wol #warrior of light #ffxiv wol #ffxiv au ra #estinien x wol #ffxiv estinien #estinien wyrmblood #wol x estinien #i wanted to write a cynical wol

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scorchviox · 4 years

Text

Your Touch [ShigarakixOC]: Chapter 6

Chapter Index

By the next morning, when everyone had gone to work, Souseiki sauntered through the front door with the help of her house key. Everything seemed normal to her, “Why wouldn’t it be normal?” She thought while she walked towards her bedroom. All she needed was some clothes, just a few so no one would suspect anything. A great plan that could have easily been executed, but some unknown force out there in the heavens wanted the brunette to really take in the fact that her family wanted to move on as quickly as possible. Souseiki stood stock still as if someone has used a freezing quirk on her. She stared into the empty room in disbelief. Her eyes scanned the area frantically as if staring long enough would bring back all her belongings within minutes, but all she felt was a headache coming on and a static noise irritating her ears. “Where the fuck is my stuff!” Souseiki venomously barked out.

If anyone other than her would walk in they would think no one ever occupied the room. It was spotless and free of furniture or any wall decorations. It seemed like a storage room that hadn’t been used since the family moved in. The following hour the enraged girl spent her time rummaging through every closet and cupboard in the home. Even further investigation did not help her anger because she soon realized all traces of her had disappeared in a mere day. From her duvets to her favorite pink plate were nowhere to be found. Such a sight seemed as if she had never even existed in their lives. There was no mistaking that she was not wanted at all, so she went back and closed everything she had opened and out small items back in their place. She couldn’t leave a trace of herself either, right?

With a frown etched onto her face, Souseiki walked out of the home and looked around the street, out of precaution, before making her way to the road she followed the night before. Her brain screamed at her to run as fast as she could, but forced herself to walk at an even pace. Doing such a thing would only attract attention to herself, this wasn’t a street one would usually jog on.

A snicker broke past her lips as she walked along the road as she remembered her mom’s words, “We love you, honey. We just think you could put in a little more effort.” She always reassured her of such things and she never knew why. Now it was evident as to why she repeated those words when she found a chance. Those words were an attempt at convincing herself she did love her daughter. What else could it have been at this point? To them, Souseiki was just dead weight that would only be able to work a desk job.

“What bullshit,” the teen muttered as she threw her head back and looked at the azure sky. To think her family even cared about her after the little tortures they had put her through. If stupid had a picture Souseiki was sure it would be her. Continuing to think about such a somber subject would only further ruined her mood, so she groaned as she leveled her head to stare down the path she walked. The street was busy compared to the night before. Pedestrians walked up and down the street, each minding their own business, but something nagged at her to pull up her hood. Maybe it was her vast knowledge of undercover spy movies that nudged her to do so. For a second she thought it would make her even more conspicuous than intended, but her mind settled as she suddenly noticed a lot of people walking around with their hoods on. They walked among the crowd without caring what their ouster appearance was. It dawned on Souseiki that she could learn a thing or two from such people.

Aside from that, her incident was already old news in this new quirk immersed society. People die every day and accidents such as hers occur more than once a day. At this point, she was just another statistic. The brunette was positive all eyes would be on her family, as they had mentioned last night. The public eye would be latched onto how Flux’s family recovered from such a tragic familial loss.

After walking farther down the street she stopped when a slightly familiar building came into view. She stood aside and eyed the billboards over it. The lights weren’t on, but a faint memory of them nagged at her. Due to it, she walked down the alley slowly and scanned the area hoping to find something that looked even more familiar. She bit her lip looking around the alleyway in hopes that the slight pain would bring back an essential memory.

“Welcome back,” called a voice in the distance. The brunette’s heart raced as she glanced around the are. There was no soul had or behind her and soon panic started settling in. Who would be calling her? Out of fear she pulled the sleeve’s over her fists and turned to walk back towards the crowd. “Hey, up here,” sighed the voice this time sounding more tired. At the sound of the voice, she once again turned quickly, causing the hood to fall off her head, as she looked at a window on the top floor. Above her was Shigaraki leaning against his forearms on the window sill. “Get inside already.”

Despite the tone coming out like a boss screaming at an underpaid employee, Souseiki nodded and scrambled towards the door he had gestured to. When she stepped through the brunette made her way up a few stairwells before coming face to face with a familiar door. Pushing it open, she stood at the entrance to see Kurogiri sitting on a couch with a newspaper in hand and a mug of coffee on a side table. “Good morning,” he greeted, “there’s breakfast if you’re hungry.”

Suddenly feeling an itch in her throat, Souseiki gulped the saliva that had accumulated in her throat and said, “Thank you.” She took slow steps towards the counter and saw two plates full of food. Taking a seat she looked back at Kurogiri, who no was sipping at his coffee.

Shigaraki then emerged from the door she had just entered through and settled himself before the breakfast beside Souseiki. He picked up a glass of water and stared at the way he held it for a second, with his middle finger raised in the air. “Good to see you back,” he said before lowering the finger to grasp the glass with all five digits.

Adjacent to him, Souseiki turned to fully face her food, “Am I really still welcomed?” She whispered loud enough for him to hear. The way these two strangers had greeted her shocked Souseiki, to say the least. Who in their right mind would help her, again, a stranger and house her? They invited her into their not so welcoming home and made her breakfast. Overall, she didn’t feel hated, which was nice. Quite frankly, this all felt like a fever dream, so she dug her nails into the palm of her hand until small, red crescent moons appeared. This new atmosphere screamed home to her now.

“That’s a stupid question,” Shigaraki answered as he cast her a side glance through blue locks. A response so dry and irritated satisfied her and she too began to pick up her utensils and eat breakfast along his side. Minutes passed without a word. Kurogiri had stood from his spot and walked closer to the two, close enough for the mist to disperse. Shigaraki saw the way Souseiki eyed the man before loudly dropping his silverware to catch her attention. “Let’s go,” he demanded and pulled her out of the seat by yanking on the jacket she wore.

The door slammed behind the two as Shigaraki led the way through the dark hallway and past the bathroom she had previously used. “Where are we going?” Souseiki questioned as she tried to look over his shoulder to see what room he could have been leading her to.

He didn’t respond and simply tugged her long to the room she had used the nights before. “I had Kurogiri bring in some stuff you’d need before your parents got rid of them,” he mumbled out as he opened the room’s door. On the bed was a small duffel bag full of her clothing and mere toiletry essentials. It wasn’t much, but the thought mattered much more.

Souseiki nodded to herself as she released her grip from Shigaraki’s and walked into the room. “So you knew about my parents literally erasing my existence from their lives?” She muttered picking up a shirt and clenched it in her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me? If you knew that little adventure I had last night wouldn’t be necessary.”

The blue-haired teen stood at the door with his hands now inches pockets. He knew why he hadn’t said anything, but he played stupid, “No idea.” It would have been better for her to find out on her own terms. Taking his word, a stranger’s word, wouldn’t hit home as he’d want. If she felt that anger surge through her body and saw her parent’s nonchalant mood after her so-called death; he knew Souseiki would be a great accomplice. Her loyalty towards him and his ideals would only grow stronger from here on out if he let this happen. “Give me my jacket back. You’ve got your clothes now.”

“Oh, right.” She said dropping the clothes she held and gripping at the hem of the jacket before peeling the warm fabric of her skin. “I don’t know what you want from me, Shigaraki, but I think you should know I don’t kill people,” Souseiki spoke with a tone so sure of herself. “I would never kill a person.”

“Noted.” He smiled as he clutched onto the sweater outstretched to him.

After their short chat, the hours ticked by and the two men didn’t see the girl for the rest of the day. They didn’t bother interrupting her at all whether she could be heard throwing things around or nothing could be heard at all. Shigaraki and Kurogiri sat in the open area staring at the television that simple had the words Sound On registered on the screen. “It’s only expected that the daughter of a hero would decide not to take a life. If you are to use her it must be in a roundabout way,” erupted the voice of All for One.

Shigaraki lightly scratched at his neck as he eyed the screen, “Don’t you think I know that? I know how she’s going to be of use,” he assured as he looked at Kurogiri who was sitting still in his spot. “We saw that projected quirks work around her. That could be used to our advantage.”

In his seat, Kurogiri cleared his throat and caught the attention of the teen. “There’s a chance she would go along with your plans. Souseiki has already expressed how thankful she is,” the response warranted silence, so he continued due to the blue-haired boy’s confused expression, “She asked if she was still welcome. She wanted to stay. That aside, she came back. We are her only home now.”

“I’m not willing to gamble that. She’s the first to join my party. If I lose her right now I won’t get past the intro or even into the actual gameplay,” Shigaraki muttered toying with the frayed fabric on the couch. “Leave her to me.”

#shigaraki tomura #Shigaraki #shigaraki manga #boku no hero academia shigaraki #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki x oc #bnha manga #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha shigaraki #my hero academia #my hero academy oc #boku no hero oc #boku no hero academia #bnha fanart #mha fanart

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bubbletimestories · 4 years

Text

En apesanteur (Quentin/reader)

Summary: A quick record of your meeting with Quentin Beck, before he was fired, when he was still happy at Stark Industries. It's your first day at work, you manage to slip into the elevator just before the doors close...

Warnings: cute, cute, cute

Themes: love, desire, first day at work, happy Quentin

A/N. Inspired by “En apesanteur” (Calogero) and the idea of a nice Quentin before the fall

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24544732 (fr)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24571402 (eng)

***************************************************************

Chapter 1.

For a first day at Stark Industries, we can say that your life is a mess : your alarm did not ring, one of the buttons of your favorite blouse jumped and you missed the bus, forcing you to run like a crazy all the way. Another than you would see a glaring sign to turn around and never set foot in the gigantic tower but you care too much for this position, it's your dream!

A dream that may never come true if you don't arrive in time for your appointment! You barely have time to put on your new badge and you are already leaping into the hall, skidding to reach the nearest elevator. You slip into it just before the doors close, allowing you to finally catch your breath by leaning against the glass wall. You get your glasses back to wipe off the mist, what a race, and so early in the morning…

"Which floor ?"

You startle by stifling a curse, so blinded by stress that you didn't even notice that someone else was already in the cabin. The blood that pulsates in your ears begins to calm down and you turn, sweating, probably red, towards the most attractive man you have ever seen. With your mouth open like a fish out of the water, you try not to breathe too hard by gathering your ideas but you can no longer remember what your neighbor asked you . Shit, you look totally stupid and he must come straight out of a fashion print. Although not, he has a badge like yours ...

Quentin watches you gasp, your pink face showing how embarrassed you are right now. Your outfit, your frantic race, you are undoubtedly a new recruit, a trainee perhaps, full of enthusiasm. He too must have looked so ingenuous when he arrived at Stark Industries and now he is an engineer on one of the most important projects of this century. He patiently lets you recover before asking you his question, expressly modulating his voice into a sexy whisper. Trickery, it won’t help you regain your composure, that’s way too much fun.

The question is trivial, not to say totally logical, but his timbre is so charming that you feel the earth open under your feet, unless you float. No, how can he caress you just with your voice? The numbers, the words, everything gets mixed up in your head and you nervously pull on your shirt, put your crazy locks back in place before answering.

"Twenty-eighth, please."

You must look like a kid, it's awful as you stutter. Quietly, as if he were not laughing inwardly to see you so lost, Quentin leans over to press the button, his arm brushing against yours, emitting a light scent. As he straightened up, he smiled at you, making thin lines appear at the corner of his eyes ... what eyes! Blue like aquamarine and soft… It's official, you are dead, on your way to heaven, alone with an angel.

Suddenly shy, you look away from the azure orbs and steadfastly stare outside while waiting to be released from the glass cage. Beck watches you discreetly, thanking the elevator for being so slow as it climbs the floors. Now that you've caught your breath, you're pretty with your pink cheeks and your way of biting your lip nervously looking everywhere except in his direction. Admitting that no one is joining you in the cabin, he wants seconds to change into hours, your ascent to stop until you get to know each other. Yes, he would almost be tempted to press the emergency stop button, like in the movies. But first, he should at least know your first name.

In the reflection of the glass, you see him run a hand through his hair to arrange it, the sun imprints nuances of fire and honey. The cabin is spacious, but you can feel him very close, right behind you, to the point where you can breathe in his fragrant scents to try to analyze them. The embarrassed silence specific to elevators has settled in and yet you have the impression of hearing him speak to you, his only way of leaning lightly against the wall with relaxation is more telling than a thousand words. Your own body translates your thoughts, you feel that you react too well, even when you keep your eyes resolutely turned towards the numbers which scroll like so many floors. Suddenly, your first day at work, his important meeting with the team, it all seems far away and insignificant.

The calm of Quentin suddenly dissolves in front of his growing interest in your person, it would be really too stupid to let you escape, to miss such a great opportunity. He spreads his long fingers to delicately take your badge and read it, printing a smile on his lips while finally discovering your name.

- Y / N… magnificent first name. - Thank you…

You look up, thanking him, realizing that he's much closer than you imagined, his face just inches from yours. When he quickly moistens his lips, you don't miss the movement of his tongue, the thin beard covering his cheeks. The young man plunges with pleasure into your wide eyes and for a brief moment, he feels you about to kiss him and him to return you with joy this kiss. But already the doors open, the cursed floor is reached and the spell will be broken. If only you could have stayed eternally out of time, out of time, weightless. Just before he pulls away, you touch his hand with a smile you expect not too clumsy, looking down at his chest (oh my ...) and his own badge.

- It was a pleasure to meet you ... Quentin. I hope we'll meet again. - For sure.

He can't help but throw one last seductive look at you, just for the pleasure of seeing the rose rise to your cheeks and your eyes start to sparkle with desire. It’s your heart beating much louder than when you arrived that you leave the cabin and greet one last time this man as bewitching as sweet.

"See you soon, Mr. Beck. Welcome to Stark Industries."

You run away before you realize your blunder and become mortified, before you can hear him burst out laughing at your adorable awkwardness. Fortunately, you will see each other again soon, you both work in the same place and this for probably long years.

#quentin beck/reader

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eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 5 years

Text

Edinburgh To Boston Chapter 8 - The Morning After.

Hello all, I am so sorry for the delay in posting this. It took a bit of time for all the corrections and rewrites that I had to do. I know some of you had read the preview but it has not changed too much.

I also want to thank everyone for their kind words and good wishes when I explained that things were delayed because my husband had taken ill. He is well and back to himself. I am adjusting to the new job and a little less crazy. A little I said.

I do need to thank two very special people @curlsgetdemgurls and @ladyviolethummingbird for being my betas on this chapter. I don’t know what I would have done without them. They are the best.

I am not promising when the next chapter will be out except to say that it is underway. I dislike promising something that I can’t keep.

So without further ado, I give you:

Edinburgh to Boston Chapter 8 The Morning After

Jamie Fraser laid in his hotel bed watching the dawn slowly break over the frozen sleeping city. The sky underwent a metamorphosis transitioning from the inky black of night to the vibrant colors of the day. Streaks of hot pink, vivid orange, and fiery golden yellow glowed in the heavens splattering across an underlying electric blue. It was breathtakingly beautiful, so beautiful as to cause him to weep. But nothing could surpass the goddess who slept beside him. Claire. His Sorcha, his light.

Claire lay on her side, back curled into his chest. Their bodies fit well together. Each one piece of a puzzle when combined made a whole, a complete picture.

He ran his hands along the planes of her body becoming familiar with each dip and luscious curve. Her body, while thin and lithe, spoke of a woman’s sensuality. A hand drifted to cup that sweet round arse of hers.

Aye, plump and juicy like a fat wee hen.

He felt himself rouse just from the mere thought of her. She consumed him. The need left him wanting, needing. He knew he could take her again and again and it would never be enough.

Smiling tenderly, Jamie brushed an errant curl away from Claire’s face. Her hair, that glorious mane, spread out across the pillow a tangled, tousled mess. She would awake and be annoyed with it. There would be fussing, muttered obscenities, and futile attempts to tame it into some semblance of order. Chuckling, Jamie admitted that one of the things he loved about her (and truth be told, he loved everything about her) was her hair, as it truly represents who she is. At times, she could be wild and free just like her curls. Most of the time she would confine her curly wig into a conservative bun. The reserved Dr. Beauchamp, her public persona. But, her hair would never stay in place. It always struggles to escape its confines and become free. He witnessed the wild and unrestrained side of his enchantress last night, giving and receiving pleasure without inhibition. She was simply magnificent. Jamie blushed at the thought of what they had done, hoping they could do that again soon.

Jamie yawned and stretched feeling each one of his vertebrae popping. He hadn’t slept much during the night. It was his duty to stand guard over his beloved as she slept. He was the Watcher of Her Sleep; The Guardian of her Dreams. Jamie snorted at himself.

“Becoming poetic are we, Fraser?”

He rolled his eyes at his own pretentiousness.

“Weel, if I’m becoming a poet, then she will be my poem.”

He grinned at the thought.

Eyes heavy and gritty from the lack of sleep, Jamie fought to stay awake. Wrapping his arms around Claire, he pulled her closer to his chest. Taking in a deep breath, he inhaled her sleepy scent. Her fragrance comforted him allowing him to relax. He settled himself spooning into her, back to chest, arse to groin, legs intertwined. The act while intimate soothed him. Jamie began to drift, feeling the pull of sleep and surrendered to it.

****************

The morning sunlight slowly crept along the floor clambering up the bed settling on Claire’s sleeping countenance rousing her from slumber. Eyes squinting, she blinked adjusting to the harsh glare suffusing throughout the room.

“I should have closed those bloody drapes last night.”

Peering through narrowed eyes at the clock, it cheerfully blinked 9:43 AM. Claire attempted to shift to her side, wanting very much to return to sleep. This proved impossible as she was held in the steel embrace of a very large, very warm...very naked Scot. One arm wrapped around her chest, while the other came around her waist, tightening every time she tried to move.

“Christ, this is what it must feel like being caught in a bear trap.”

Claire chuckled to herself imagining Jamie as a great giant red bear. Jamie pulled Claire closer making huffing and snuffling noises into her hair.

Falling into a deeper sleep, his arms became limp, the vise-like grip momentarily relaxed. Quickly, Claire changed position her head now resting on Jamie’s well-muscled torso. She centered her ear over his chest, listening.

Lub-Dub, Lub-Dub, Lub-Dub, Lub-Dub.

The sounds of the strong gentle beat of his heart hypnotic, serene. She felt content and safe surrounded by his arms, sharing a bed with him. Nestling closer, Claire became aware of a hardness pressing against her belly.

“Hmm, penile tumescence,” Claire, ever the clinician, mused “He must be in REM sleep.” She wondered what he could be dreaming about, hoping it was her.

******************

“Hello, Claire, I see you have taken a lover,” said a cultured English male voice. Tall and thin, he had the athletic grace of a tennis player. An attractive chap with an aristocratic face, he possessed dark wavy brown hair, and eyes of hazel flecked with honey. Attired in a three-piece brown suit, white button-down shirt, and striped tie, the figure jammed one hand into his pants pocket, cocked his head to one side, projecting a rakish air.

“Hello, Frank. Why don’t you go get stuffed? While you’re at it, get out of this bed,” Claire said her voice laced with anger.

Frank chose to ignore Claire’s request.

“He is rather large is he not?” Frank sneered. “Is that what appeals to you these days, Scottish barbarians? Are you having fantasies about being dominated that you need such a brute in your bed? I recall Joe Abernathy had you reading those dreadful novels. Ghastly, really. I can just imagine the title: ‘The Scottish Barbarian and the English Rose’,” he laughed contemptuously. “TSK, I always thought you to be a refined lady of gentle birth,” he said in a reproachful tone.

“Frank, you never took the time to know anything about me or what I needed or wanted. But Jamie does. Now get out of my head! Go away!”

“How sweet! Jamie, is it? Hmm, sounds rather boyish, doesn’t it,” The Englishman mocked.

“I’ll have you know he’s no boy,” Claire growled vehemently. “He’s more man than you’ll ever be. Jamie is kind, gentle, funny, supportive of me, and most of all he loves me. He is everything I could possibly want in a man — something you wouldn’t know anything about. I really don’t know why I am having this conversation with you.”

“You know perfectly well why Claire. You called me here to fuel your insecurities, your inadequacies. I am a figment of your imagination, your dreams. You only have yourself to blame.”

“You know you’re right. I did call you here. It’s to tell you I am no longer the frightened, insecure girl you knew. You can no longer intimidate me or make me feel inadequate. I have grown emotionally, and I found my self-confidence — no thanks to you. I am happy and in love. Yes, I am in love with Jamie. So, why don’t you just bugger off? Oh, and do us both a favor, don’t come back.”

“I’ll be back Claire when you call me again.” The fetch faded into the gray mist of her dream-world.

*************

It was late morning and the sky became a dazzling azure blue, vast and limitless. The sunlight reflected off the whiteness of the snow giving it an even greater brilliance. As the sun climbed higher, the reflection from the golden beams struck the sleeping lovers rousing them from the land of Nod.

Jamie woke first, finding Claire snuggled in his arms, head still pressed against his chest. He lowered his lips and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Her eyes blinked, as she slowly moved toward wakefulness.

“Good morning mo chridhe, did ye sleep well?”

“Yes, yes I did. And you? Did you sleep well?”

Claire hated lying to Jamie, but she was loath to start the day talking about her disturbing dream. She would tell him everything...later.

“Aye, I did. Better than I have in a long time.”

Jamie bent forward and kissed the tip of Claire’s nose, letting out a deep sigh of contentment.

“Are ye hungry a leannan?”

“Yes, famished. Aren’t you?” Claire looked up into his fathomless blue eyes.

“Aye, but what I’m hungry for is no’ on the menu.”

“I thought you would have had your fill of me last night.”

“Nah, never mo ghràdh.”

Jamie ran his fingers down the side of her cheek and along the sensitive skin of her neck. Claire shivered under his touch. In return, her hand went to the nape of his neck and at feeling the soft curls, brought his head down to her mouth. His lips were soft and warm. She melted into his kiss; her heart fluttering in her chest.

“I could get used to waking up like this every morning,” Jamie said his bright blue eyes twinkling.

“So could I,” Claire whispered as she stroked the rough plush of his morning stubble.

His large hands caressed her back up and down before settling on her arse giving it a good squeeze.

Claire squeaked.

“Ye ken, Beauchamp, it was torture watching ye walk away from me in yer scrubs. I’d see yer sweet fat arse swaying seductively as ye walked down the corridor. It took all my self-control not to throw ye over my shoulder, carry ye off, and have my way with ye on the spot,” he grinned.

Claire looked up at him offended,

“My arse is not fat, Fraser! I prefer to think of it as Rubenesque. More voluptuous, than fat.”

“Call it what ye will. ‘Tis fat. Just how I like it.”

With that, Jamie gave said arse a loving swat and got out of bed. He stood naked by the side of the bed stretching luxuriously. Claire did enjoy watching Jamie move. His movements graceful, belying the strength and power his body possessed. Bending down, he retrieved his robe and put it on.

“Why don’t ye take a bath while I order up some breakfast for us?”

“Alright, that sounds like a good idea.”

Claire slipped out of bed while Jamie held open her robe wrapping her snugly in it.

Claire walked to the bathroom, ran the water for the bath adding a bath oil and bubble bath called Romance to the water. The bubbles blossomed up like white fragrant clouds filling the air with the scent of roses, sage, orange, and rosemary as they dispersed. Claire entered the tub, slid down until she was covered in the sweetly scented foam to her shoulders.

“Ahh.”

Sighing, she closed her eyes, enjoying the absolute bliss of relaxing in the water. The door opened and Jamie stepped in carrying two champagne flutes, the champagne, and the strawberries.

“Mind if I join ye, lass?”

“No, not at all. There is plenty of room,” Claire looked up at him smiling.

Taking his phone from his robe pocket, Jamie put on some soft instrumental music, popped the cork on the champagne, poured the glasses, and placed a strawberry in each. Dimming the lights just a little, he removed the robe and joined Claire in the tub. Jamie moved with a natural elegance for such a large man, nimbly descending into the water without causing a wave or a ripple allowing them to face each other.

“Do ye no’ feel a wee bit decadent, mo chridhe? I’ve never done such a thing as this.”

He closed his eyes leaned back so only his head could be seen above the mass of bubbles and let out a contented sigh.

Claire giggled at the sight of him up to his neck in bubbles.

Jamie grinned and reached along the edge of the tub finding the champagne flutes and handed one to Claire.

“What should we toast to?” Jamie paused contemplating. “Ah, I have one. Here’s to a lady of grace, a woman of strength, a lass of astonishing beauty, and the woman that has captured my heart, Claire Beauchamp.”

Whether from the heat of the water, the nearness of Jamie, the effusive compliment, or all three, Claire’s face flushed.

Touching their flutes together, they sipped the champagne. When Jamie finished he retrieved the strawberry from his glass bit the bottom, causing the juice to flow freely. Jamie ran the berry seeping its sweet-tart fluid over Claire’s generous lips, painting them a ruby red. He pressed the fruit to her lips teasing them apart with Claire accepted his gift. She slowly chewed it all while her sultry amber eyes focused on him. A few drops of sweet liquid trickled out of Claire’s mouth settling onto her lips. Jamie leaned forward, eyes riveted on her mouth. His tongue swirled over her lips licking the nectar from them savoring the taste of the strawberry and her. Her lips stained red were plump, sweet, and begging him to claim them.

“I would very much like to kiss you, Claire,” his eyes never wavering from her.

“I would like that very much,” Claire replied breathlessly.

Their lips met. His were soft, warm, with a hint of champagne. Hers were supple and sweet with a lingering taste of berry. Jamie's tongue quested across her lips seeking entry which Claire gave gladly. Their tongues met in a sweet caress, touching, stroking sending sparks and shivers through each of them. They broke apart resting forehead to forehead absorbing each other in through their breath.

“Turn around, I’ll wash yer back.”

Claire did as Jamie requested settling between his legs. Knees bent, Claire, rested her forehead on her thighs providing ample access to her back.

Jamie reached for the bath sponge. Soft and silky, he filled it with water adding the sweet-scented soap to create a rich creamy froth. He slowly began to massage Claire’s back, moving in circles working the foam into her skin. He lifted each arm, stroking up and down from shoulders to fingertips. Claire’s head rolled back falling against Jaime’s chest.

“Hmm, that feels so nice, Jamie.”

“Ye like it, a nighean? Why dinna ye rest yer back against my chest too?”

Claire willingly complied. Once more, Jamie loaded the sponge letting the soapy water trickle over her chest, between her breasts, and over her nipples. Slowly, unhurriedly, he brought the sponge down tracing a path down toward her belly. Claire made small mewling sounds deep in her throat.

“Move yer legs apart, lass. ”

The silkiness of the sponge contrasted with the pressure Jamie applied to her apex. Claire began to shift and writhe in time to Jamie’s movements. Her mouth opened breath becoming shallow. She began to whimper. Claire placed her hand over Jamie’s adding to the already delicious sensation he was creating. Her lips moved not making a sound. A curse perhaps, or was it a prayer in supplication?

“Ye like this, lass?”

Jamie’s arousal grew, the need for her surging.

“Yes.”

Claire began to squirm, twisting her body. She needed his mouth, needing to feel it against hers. She leaned in, their lips meeting giving him a soul-searing kiss, igniting a blaze of passion that threatened to devour them both

Jamie rose up with the water streaming off his chiseled body. He looked like Poseidon rising from the depths of the ocean.

“Mo ghràdh, I must have ye or die!”

Claire raised her arms up to him.

“Then have me.”

Jamie lifted Claire from the bath. She would be his Venus, nascent from the sea. Her arms were wrapped securely around his neck; her face buried in his chest. His strength supported her, cradling her against him. In two strides, he moved from the tub to the vanity countertop. While one arm supported Claire, the other swept the counter top clearing it of bottles, tubes, jars, and soaps sending them flying across the room. He had no care for the shamble he was creating, no attention to spend on it. His breathing was rapid and eyes now dark with lust. He placed Claire on the cool marble countertop nudging her legs apart. Jamie came closer settling between them. He needed to touch her. He ran his hand down the valley between her breasts, across her belly, and resting on her hip.

Ah Dhia, her skin is so smooth, so soft. It shimmers like a pearl newly pulled from the sea.

His hand dropped between her thighs wanting, needing to touch her. The tender flesh of her thighs opening wider inviting his fingers to roam over the satiny skin.

“Kiss me, Jamie.”

Jamie licked his lips, leaned in claiming her mouth.

Surrendering to the driving force of his kiss left her breathless, and wanting. An aching tension grew between them igniting the flames of their lust.

Jamie spied the mirror behind Claire. Dripping with condensation, he swiped at it clearing the steam obstructing his view of them. He could watch; he could see what he was doing to her. He didn’t think he could get any harder but the thought of watching made his cock so hard he didn’t think he could feel it anymore.

Leaning back on her arms, Claire spread herself wide in invitation. Jamie took his cock in hand and began to rub it against her sensitive tissue, making her moan. He placed himself at her entrance and in one swift motion slid home.

Claire gasped at the sudden intrusion into her body.

“God! Jamie!”

“Lie back a nighean. I want to love ye thoroughly.”

Claire complied. Taking her legs he placed them upon his shoulders. His thumb moved to the center of her arousal, stroking building sensations of molten waves of pleasure through her. Joining to her in their heated flesh, he moved sliding in and out of her, watching himself.

“Look in the mirror as I take ye. See how I love ye.”

Claire craned her head, looking into the mirror she saw the ecstasy and agony of pleasure and passion across Jamie’s face. Struggling to find purchase, her nails grasped vainly at the slick marble countertop.

“Help me up, Jamie! I want to see us.”

A large strong hand supported her back allowing her to sit up; the other pushed her head down. Legs widely spread Claire could see him take her, watching him thrust into her, possess her. They became one.

It became more than she could endure. This was the most erotic thing she had ever done, becoming both participant and spectator. Moaning loudly, her hips began to gyrate wildly. She could hear the thrum of her blood as it coursed through her body. She could no longer focus her arousal was complete. There was only pure sensation, pure pleasure.

“Jamie! I can’t...I...I… Oh, God Jamie!”

Claire’s nails raked down Jamie’s chest leaving angry red marks in their wake. She felt herself flood around him. Her climax shattering. Her Scot was not far behind.

“Claire! Oh, God! Claire!,”

Jamie shuddered spilling himself into her. He leaned forward biting her at the juncture of neck and shoulder. He trembled in the aftermath of their love. They clung to each other as they descended from the throes of their passion.

Jamie looked at Claire somewhat abashed. Helping her down from the countertop, he dampened a face cloth and offered it to her.

“Claire, I never...that is, I didn’t mean... Oh, Christ!”

Face flaming, he grabbed his robe and left the room; leaving Claire puzzled.

Have I done something wrong?

Claire straightened up the room, picking up the bits and pieces that had been unceremoniously thrown onto the floor. Putting on her robe, she arranged herself into some semblance of order and walked out into the room.

Jamie was standing with his hands in his pockets staring out the large window onto the street below.

Boston was trying to dig itself out. Sanitation trucks with large plows attempted to make the streets passable again. Merchants with shovels and snowblowers cleared their walkways from the mounds of snow. People slipped and slid on the sidewalk while others endeavored to walk around the piles of drifting snow with varying degrees of success.

Absorbed in his thoughts, Jamie saw none of it.

How could I treat her like this? What is wrong with me to use her in such a way? She must think me a beast or an animal. I don’t deserve her.

Disgusted with himself, Jamie hung his head in shame and embarrassment, unable to face Claire. So deeply lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear her enter the room.

“Jamie are you alright? Please tell me what’s wrong. Was it me? Was it not good? I’m sorry.”

Claire bit her lip nervously. Frank had always made her feel inadequate in bed. She did not want to disappoint Jamie. She couldn’t bear it.

Jamie turned to look at her with eyes wide in disbelief. His voice soft, halting,

“Claire, what are ye talking about? Ye did nothing wrong, lass. It was me.”

His shoulders slumped and he had difficulty maintaining eye contact.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing to ye for my behavior. Or lack of it.”

He continued gazing at a place in the distance that only he could see.

“I dinna want ye to think, I mean I dinna want ye to feel that I only want ye for…”

Jamie waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the bed.

“Jamie, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You did nothing wrong. Why should you apologize to me?”

“Claire, my Da taught me that women were to be respected, revered especially ah, in sex. He said that when ye love a woman, ye should pay tribute to her body as it is her right. I dishonored ye, lass. What I did was selfish. I have no claim on ye. I am no’ yer husband. I did not consider ye. And for that I must beg yer pardon.

Jamie began to pace about the room, restless running his hands through his hair. He turned facing Claire, “Christ do ye no’ ken how much I love ye? Ye are the air that I breathe, the blood of my heart. Without ye, I am naught but an empty shell. Your face is my heart mo ghràdh and the love of you is my soul.

“Ye see I want this, want us to be more. I want something we can build on, grow with. No’ just some magnificent weekend and then we part. That’s not good enough, Claire. Not for me and certainly not for ye. Ye deserve better.”

Jamie was stiff and rigid, fighting to control his emotions. He did not want to lose Claire because of one foolish mistake.

Claire was touched by his concern for her and her feelings. She walked around to face him, cupping his face in to get him to meet her eye. Jamie resisted.

“Look at me, please. You did nothing wrong. I wanted you to.”

Claire spoke softly and tenderly.

“You make me feel beautiful, sexy, desirable, loved, wanted, safe. How can these things be wrong?”

Jamie turned looking at her, a single tear running down his face.

“Do ye mean it, Claire? That’s how I make ye feel?”

Claire thumbed away the tear. Standing on tiptoes she leaned in and sweetly kissed him on the lips.

“Yes, and so much more. I love you, Jamie Fraser.”

Jamie sniffed, a crooked smile on his face

“And I you.”

He wrapped his arms around her pulling her close.

“Well, now that is all out of the way let’s have some of this delicious breakfast that you ordered for us.”

“Oh, and Jamie,” Claire said mischievously, “the next time you want to do it in front of a mirror, just make sure I can see your sweet arse in action, aye?”

A devilish grin played across her face as she turned and walked away leaving Jamie standing with his mouth agape.

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matoitech · 5 years

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i get why the galo dragon is harder to find bc azure/navy/vermillion isnt even an existing combo on the site yet and theyre pretty .. well, vibrant colors paired together (that was the point, theyre very eyestrainey) but youd think thered be a lot of mint/mist/bubblegum dragons for lio? its a more pastel combo so youd THINK.. anyway if any of my fr mutuals have a dragon somewhere around either of these colors i can borrow for nesting then lmk cuz i have been RLY wanting to start these projects so i can fill up my promare tab that i havent yet begun filling up

#i have a gueira and meis but i dont want JUST themt o be in the tab .. i need at LEAST galo and lio there too #im looking for an aina dragon rn too im thinking ill try 2 get burning rescue and thyma as well #frposting

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msb-lair · 2 years

Photo

Dragon: Hark - Pearlcatcher Bogsneak XYY Male

First Record Second Record Third Record Fourth Record Fifth Record Sixth Record Seventh Record

(Renamed from GRIMDORK to Hark on 2021-11-09) (Smirch scroll applied on 2021-11-09) (Tri-color Scatterscroll x51 applied) (Tide scroll applied on 2022-11-20) (Bogsneak scroll applied on 2022-11-20) (Foam scroll applied on 2022-11-20) (Flecks scroll applied on 2022-11-20)

Purchased For: 3,500,000 treasure Hatched On: 2013-09-26 ID: 779793

Parentage: Valencia/Petre Flight: Wind

Primary: Coal Mulberry Tiger Tide Secondary: Purple Orange Shimmer Foam Tertiary: Avocado Orange Basic Smirch Flecks Eyes: Common

Comments: Used enough scatterscrolls on him that it’s time to start a new record for this guy (x5). Finally hit keepable colours, yay! Time to gene hime up...

He’s Hark because the first thought that came to mind for the eventual tagline on his bio was “Hark, a wild scatterscroll project appears!”. Followed about two seconds later by “Huh, that would make an amusing name” - amusing to me, anyway, but as I’ve stated before, I am sometimes easily amused.

I’m also amused that he’s continuing the tradition of “scatterscroll projects I needed to throw smirch at so I could see their tert”.

Original Colours: Coal-Purple-Avocado Scatterscroll #1 (2021-11-09): Wine-Grey-Gloom Scatterscroll #2 (2021-11-15): Red-Sanddollar-Lead Scatterscroll #3 (2021-11-22): Dust-Lavender-Metals Scatterscroll #4 (2021-11-29): Charcoal-Splash-Lapis Scatterscroll #5 (2021-12-06): Teal-Fern-Carrot Scatterscroll #6 (2021-12-13): Carmine-Fern-Driftwood Scatterscroll #7 (2021-12-20): Lead-Orchid-Mist Scatterscroll #8 (2021-12-26): Mauve-Lapis-Moon Scatterscroll #9 (2022-01-03): Carrot-Periwinkle-Dust Scatterscroll #10 (2022-01-10): Azure-Radioactive-Eldritch Scatterscroll #11 (2022-01-17): Magenta-Lavender-Blue Scatterscroll #12 (2022-01-24): Phthalo-Smoke-Maize Scatterscroll #13 (2022-01-31): Umber-Avocado-Auburn (very tempting) Scatterscroll #14 (2022-02-07): Cobalt-Tarnish-Gloom Scatterscroll #15 (2022-02-14): Orca-Slate-Antique Scatterscroll #16 (2022-02-21): Brown-Yellow-Cottoncandy Scatterscroll #17 (2022-02-28): Emerald-Crimson-Pumpkin Scatterscroll #18 (2022-03-08): Midnight-Sand-Stonewash Scatterscroll #19 (2022-03-14): Tan-Mantis-Cherry (tree dragon - but no) Scatterscroll #20 (2022-03-15): Cream-Peach-Cerulean Scatterscroll #21 (2022-03-28): Ivory-Cerise-Ruby Scatterscroll #22 (2022-04-04): Blue-Lavender-White Scatterscroll #23 (2022-04-11): Jungle-Radioactive-Red Scatterscroll #24 (2022-04-18): Stonewash-Watermelon-Tomato Scatterscroll #25 (2022-04-25): Brown-Violet-Azure Scatterscroll #26 (2022-05-02): Chartreuse-Pink-Iris Scatterscroll #27 (2022-05-09): Cinnamon-Gloom-Mint Scatterscroll #28 (2022-05-16): Denim-Moss-Black Scatterscroll #29 (2022-05-23): Overcast-Hickory-Thistle Scatterscroll #30 (2022-05-30): Ginger-Peach-Rose Scatterscroll #31 (2022-06-06): Midnight-Fog-Grapefruit Scatterscroll #32 (2022-06-13): Spearmint-Antique-Periwinkle Scatterscroll #33 (2022-06-20): Brick-Orca-Umber Scatterscroll #34 (2022-06-27): Sunset-Brown-Taupe Scatterscroll #35 (2022-07-04): Coral-Spruce-Flint Scatterscroll #36 (2022-07-13): Avocado-Carrot-Blackberry Scatterscroll #37 (2022-07-18): Grape-Cobalt-Gloom Scatterscroll #38 (2022-07-25): Lemon-Aqua-Goldenrod Scatterscroll #39 (2022-08-01): Raspberry-Taupe-Taupe (NOPE!) Scatterscroll #40 (2022-08-08): Carmine-Orca-Smoke Scatterscroll #41 (2022-08-15): Blood-Carmine-Fern Scatterscroll #42 (2022-08-23): Soil-Sanguine-Taupe Scatterscroll #43 (2022-08-29): Green-Grape-Mantis Scatterscroll #44 (2022-09-05): Swamp-Ruby-Saffron Scatterscroll #45 (2022-09-21): Cobalt-Umber-Periwinkle Scatterscroll #46 (2022-09-26): Obsidian-Beige-Antique Scatterscroll #47 (2022-10-10): Ice-Mist-Garnet Scatterscroll #48 (2022-10-17): Peach-Flaxen-Crocodile Scatterscroll #49 (2022-10-24): Blood-Moon-Latte Scatterscroll #50 (2022-11-11): Sunshine-Maroon-Brown Scatterscroll #51 (2022-11-14): Mulberry-Orange-Orange

Apparel:

Accent: Windy Whimsey

Ferret Friend

Herald’s Scroll

Woeful Hood and Gambeson

Skittering Arm and Leg Chitin

Nebula Circlet, Earrings, Shawl, Tailwrap, and Wingdrapes

Familiar: Phoenix

Progeny Testing:

[Test] Awild

Broods:

Nested with Awild on 2022-11-23, 3 eggs [Clutch]

Bred with Awild on 2022-12-18, 1 egg [Clutch]

Matched with Awild on 2022-01-25, 3 eggs [Clutch]

Clutched with Awild on 2023-04-29, 2 eggs [Clutch]

#Hark Dragon #Dragon Sire #Dragon Record #Bogsneak Male #Bogsneak Breed #Orange Pool #Elder Dragon #XYY #Mulberry #Tide #Tide Mulberry #Orange #Foam #Foam Orange #Flecks #Flecks Orange #Wind Flight #Common #Phoenix

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blues-sevenfold · 5 years

Text

Nintendo in CBS Metaverse

I figured that, in CBS Metaverse, the Nintendo company from Japan would get into the video gaming industry about four decades prior - including the much popular Mario and Zelda franchises. When the cyberspace is finalized in the early 1970s, Nintendo is one of the major first adopters to create a series of cyber realms - three of them being Kinoko (Mushroom Kingdom), Hyrule, and Yoshima (Yoshi’s Island).

~~~~~

The series of seven cyber realms are created by Nintendo by March of 1975. Two of the seven realms are Subcon and Subspace, which can act as both a dream realm and an afterlife to denizens of the other five realms. This is the first time that a series of cyber realms included a dream realm or an afterlife realm to the set.

About 25% of the sapient species in Kinoko, Hyrule, Yoshima, and two other Nintendo realms have a dream counterpart in Subcon - whereas about 40% of the sapient species from the aforementioned realms are occasional visitors to Subcon via dreaming. The distinction is made in that the former have entire identities there, whereas the latter mist in and out of Subcon.

Vegetables grow in Subcon like weeds, so there is never a lack of vegetables - and its denizens are encouraged to collect them. Along with vegetable may be a few other neat surprises, such as a potion for a one-time visit to Subspace (visits are often limited to a few hours) - and, much more rarely, an infinite-use potion… which can even allow for immigration to Subspace. Dream fairies are indigenous to Subcon and Subspace, and they can also enter other dreams of the Nintendo denizens.

It is always temperate in Subcon, where the sun is relatively pale during the daytime. At nighttime, there is an orange moon (always full) against a purple sky. During the daylight hours, the sky is a relatively deep azure. Subcon and Subspace both are about the size of the other five Nintendo realms combined.

~~~~~

Subspace is a parallel dimension to Subcon, where everything is flipped backwards. Subspace is more sparsely populated than Subcon. About 5% of the sapient species in Kinoko, Hyrule, Yoshima, and two other Nintendo realms have a dream counterpart in Subspace; about 10% are occasional visitors to Subspace; and about 1% are occasional visitors to either Subspace *or* Subcon. Subspace has a perpetual nighttime aesthetic, where the sky is a dark azure with a rose moon and a jade moon (always full) alternating across the sky. The buildings are also adorned with colourful lights. As with Subcon, Subspace is populated largely by vegetables - with the additional extra treats, such as magic coins and magic cherries.

~~~~~

Those who have a dream clone in Subcon or Subspace live two parallel lives, and the dreaming goes in both directions. After deaths, the denizens of the other five Nintendo realms fuse with their dream clone - and they have vivid recollections of both lives.

Other denizens of the five Nintendo realms that are not Subcon or Subspace become boos upon death, which are ghosts with bodies having a texture of a soft inflated latex balloon. The boos can transport between all seven Nintendo realms at will.

There are hidden portals between the five Nintendo realms that are not Subcon or Subspace, whereas these two are generally accessible only via dreaming or astral projection. On a Friday the 13th or October 31st, the denizens of Subcon or Subspace are able to astrally visit any of the other five Nintendo realms.

~~~~~

On September 6th of 1977, a cyber clone of Jimmy Reed was born in Kinoko - and another one in Hyrule. The two clones first met “physically” at twenty years of age, and both are themselves dream clones of each other and their material clone from the Material Realm - who was also born on September 6th of 1977. Neither of them are Subcon or Subspace dreamers, but have figured out how to traverse the entire Metaverse while in their early twenties. All were rendered immortal and ageless shortly before turning thirty. Jimmy Reed also has a cyber clone in Arcadia.

~~~~~

Two years later, Nintendo is one of the major companies behind the creation of Digimon - in which species from the Pokémon, Tamagotchi, Jewelpet, and Kirby lines all come to life. Kodama are added to the Pokémon line, as well. Digimon is an augmented realm with 250 years (1727) of history - and, by 1977, much of the architecture and landscapes matches that of the Material Realm.

#nintendo #jimmy reed #cyberspace #biopunk #solarpunk #world building #text post #xg

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saoirse-argentum · 5 years

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PROMPT #19 RADIANT

(I’m a little late to the party, but I made it! I put my own projects aside for this, and naturally, I can never just write a two page story... >_>)

HEAT LEVEL: SWEET. Cue the mushy kissing!

Saoirse’s leporine ears twitched at the sound of familiar footsteps. The metal rhapsody of his armor sent chills dancing along her spine. Suddenly, she regretted waiting for him out in the open. She’d been so sure of herself only moments ago. She went over what she would say to him repeatedly, but as he approached her confidence spiraled. She wasn’t ready.

Saoirse shot up from her seat along the stone steps outside of Fortemps Manor and turned to retreat.

“Going somewhere?”

Saoirse froze mid step and looked back. “Oh, Estinien, when did you get there?” She tried to hide her embarrassment behind an awkward smile.

Estinien lifted his chin slightly as he raised his brow. “Don’t pretend you couldn’t hear me coming…not with those things.” Estinien gestured to Saoirse’s ears.

She marched toward him in a huff. “Oh, don’t even go there.” She grabbed the edge of his ear, and pulled him down to her level. Even at her height, she was still a foot shorter than him. “’Cause I will fight you.”

He looked down at her, his agitation evident in his twitching brow. “I don’t recall giving you express permission to touch me.”

She hadn’t thought about the action, she’d simply reacted to his comment, but now that he’d called attention to it, she felt stupid. Saoirse retracted her hand and her face flushed red. “Sorry, I was just making a point…no pun intended.”

Estinien pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should have let you flee…spare myself the annoyance.”

“Then why didn’t you!”

“Because Master Alphinaud said you were looking for me, so I came here first instead of reporting to the High Commander. I thought it was matter of importance, but clearly, I was mistaken.”

“So…you came to see me first?” Saoirse’s voice softened and she glanced up at Estinien timidly.

“Yes, because I respect Master Alphinaud’s requests.”

“Oh.”

“Well, out with it.” Estinien crossed his arms over his chest. “What nonsense have you brought me here for?”

Saoirse had been hopeful that morning after confiding in Alphinaud, and hearing his perception on the matter, so much so, that she left with the resolve to tell Estinien the truth when he returned to Ishgard from the Churning Mists. But what little light she’d found was swallowed up in Estinien’s shadow.

“It’s nothing.” Saoirse forced herself to smile. “I just wanted to make sure you came back okay. It would seem you have…Better and more bitter than ever I see.” Saoirse twirled her index finger around in feigned excitement.

“Stop it.” Estinien caught her wrist and leaned in close to her. His gaze was stern and firm like his grasp and it weakened Saoirse’s knees. “I can tell when you’re lying to me, so tell me the truth before I lose any more of my patience.”

Saoirse turned away from him. “That is the truth.”

“Saoirse.” Estinien used his free hand to force her gaze back to his. “I won’t ask again. Either you will tell me or I’ll see to it Master Alphinaud does.”

Before Saoirse could respond the door to Fortemps Manor swung open and both her and Estinien glanced to the entryway.

Haurchefant stopped just short of the doorway and blinked in Saoirse’s direction as if doing so would correct the image in front of him. He was quick to smile. “Saoirse! There you are! I’ve been looking for you.” He hastened his step to meet her.

“You have?”

“Yes, might you come with me a moment?” He grabbed her free hand in his and Estinien cleared his throat. “Oh, my, Estinien, I didn’t see you there.”

“Saoirse and I are in the middle of a conversation.”

“Oh, well, I hate to interfere, but,” Haurchefant paused and removed Estinien’s hand from Saoirse’s wrist with a wide grin. “You see, this really is a matter of the utmost importance, so perhaps you can resolve your lover’s quarrel later?”

Estinien startled, stepped back slightly. “What!? We aren’t…That’s not...You’re as inane as ever!” Estinien turned his back to them. “I’ve wasted enough time. Do as you please.”

Haurchefant laughed as Estinien walked away grumbling to himself. He looked down at Saoirse who was not as amused. “I didn’t think I’d see the day when the Azure Dragoon blushed such a fair shade of red.”

Saoirse met Haurchefant’s gaze. “Estinien? Blushing?”

He nodded. “I only caught a glimpse, but most assuredly his face was flushed when I called him out on his truth. Why do you think he was so quick to run off?”

“I just assumed he was angry about the implication.” Saoirse shrugged. “Since he can’t stand me.”

“On the contrary, Saoirse. Estinien loves you...but it’s been some time since he cared for anyone, so he probably hasn’t come to recognize it himself yet.” Haurchefant placed his hand on Saoirse’s shoulder. “He’ll come around.”

Saoirse wanted to believe him. It was hard not to. Haurchefant’s optimism was infectious, but her heart was clouded. “Perhaps.” She didn’t want to talk about Estinien anymore. What was the point? Any kindness he showed her in the past was likely out of obligation, and she should’ve have known that from the start. It was time to let it go. She turned to Haurchefant and smiled through her heartache. “Thank you, Haurchefant, but enough about Estinien. You said you needed to speak with me?”

“Oh, that.” Haurchefant scratched the back of his head with a smile. “You seemed like you needed the interruption. I didn’t actually need anything, but since I’m here, why don’t we chat. Come, we’ll get hot chocolate.” Haurchefant wouldn’t take no for an answer. He grabbed Saoirse by the hand and pulled her along.

*******************************************************************************************

She needed the distraction, and she enjoyed Haurchefant’s company, but she couldn’t shake her anxiety about running into Estinien again.

“Hey.” Haurchefant leaned across the table and tapped Saoirse on the noes, stirring her from her thoughts. “You seem troubled. Has your mind found it’s way back to Ishgard’s grandest grump?”

Saoirse nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m terrible company.”

“No, no. Think nothing of it. The heart can be our greatest strength and our biggest foe. So, feel as needed.” Haurchefant took a sip from his cup. “Perhaps discussing the matter will aid your recovery?”

“I just…Back in Sohm Al, he was different.” Saoirse stirred her coco and watched the small whirlpool she’d made as she spoke, “shortly after our battle with Myath we were separated from the others, and in that time he was kind. Don’t get me wrong, he was still stubborn and agitated, but there was a moment…when he looked at me…It was like I was his center…His universe and I were the same...And when his hand touched my cheek and he whispered my name I was sure then, that he felt for me. Beneath all his bravado and indifference. Had Alphinaud and the others not rejoined us then…then maybe…” Saoirse met Haurchefant’s gaze and he reached his hand across the table to gently touch hers. “Or perhaps I saw things as I wanted to rather than as they were.” She was certain she’d seen it then. If only for a moment, a flicker of Estinien’s light embraced her. And yet, there she was.

“We all see it, Saoirse. When your eyes aren’t on him, his are on you. That’s the truth of it. He watches you, ready to strike any enemy that crosses your path, and not because you are the Warrior of Light…Estinien is not the type to involve himself in matters outside his own desire for vengeance, so your title doesn’t mean anything to him. But you do.” Haurchefant patted Saoirse’s hand. “Tell me, out of curiosity, what happened in Sohm Al just before Estinien revealed his affection?”

“A pyrodragon nearly set me ablaze, but Estinien knocked me out of harms way before slaying the beast himself.”

Haurchefant nodded. “I see, so that’s it then.”

Saoirse looked back at him quizzically.

“Estinien was afraid he’d lose you in that moment, so it forced him to act! If we can make Estinien believe there’s a chance he’ll miss his opportunity, then he may be willing to swallow his pride.” Haurchefant stood from his seat and slammed his hands onto the table in his excitement. “And I know just how to do it!”

*******************************************************************************************

Saoirse accompanied Haurchefant back to Fortemps Manor, but he refused to divulge his plan in full. She sat beside him on the plush, red, velvet settee and traced her finger along the design on the wood frame. “I don’t see how this is supposed to work if I don’t know what we’re doing exactly.”

“All you have to do is follow my lead, so trust in your knight.” He placed his hand on her knee and smiled when she looked his way. “The Lord Commander and Estinien are set to meet with my father shortly, and to do so will require they pass through this very hall. When he does, we shall strike!”

“Strike how? Haurchefant, just tell me what I—”

Haurchefant placed his index finger to her lips. “Shh. Listen, Saoirse, before they arrive, there is one thing I needs tell you.” He turned to face her properly. “You are splendid.” Haurchefant placed his hand to her cheek. “I have always believed that…you are compassionate, brave, and unquestionably beautiful. When I’m with you, my heart swells with such joy that I fear it may burst.” With every word Haurchefant drew closer, his eyelids drifting closed as he neared her. “Eorzea is nothing without you…I am nothing.” Haurchefant brushed his lips against hers. He continued to cradle her face in his palm as he gripped her shoulder with his dominant hand and pulled her forward, slowly parting her mouth with his.

Saoirse was surprised by Haurchefant’s sudden affection. He’d always been a bit of a flirt, but she thought nothing of it. Before she could return his passion or push him away, the sound of someone clearing their throat forced them a part.

Haurchefant pulled away and looked past Saoirse to the hallway where his father and the others stood. He made sure to note the anger that briefly flickered across Estinien’s expression. “Oh, I didn’t realize we had an audience.”

“Very sorry to interrupt,” Alphinaud looked at the floor, as if embarrassed to have witnessed anything. “We weren’t sure when it would be a good time to say something…but as things seemed to be escalating…Well.”

Haurchefant laughed. “Don’t tell me you heard all of that? My, that’s a touch embarrassing, but it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Saoirse’s face was hot, a bright pink, and she couldn’t bring herself to face the others. She could hardly gather a thought when Haurchefant took her by the hand and lifted her to her feet. “Perhaps we should finish this conversation in private.” He pulled her along and smiled at the others as he past them, paying special attention to Estinien whose hands were clenched into fists, shaking at his side. “Don’t mind us.”

Haurchefant stopped once they were clearly away from the others. He looked down at Saoirse who was lost in thought, trying to piece together what just happened. “Saoirse, are you alright?”

“Was that…” Saoirse slowly lifted her gaze to meet him. “Was that part of your plan?”

He smiled and leaned in close. “Well, if it was, it would appear to be working.” He gave a subtle gesture for her to look behind her.

Saoirse glanced over her shoulders to see Estinien storming down the hallway. He grabbed Saoirse by the arm as he passed her and pushed Haurchefant aside. “Out of my way, satyr.”

“We were in the middle of something!” Haurchefant called after them.

“Consider us even then!” Estinien didn’t look back. He continued his march forward until they were outside the manor. He released Saoirse’s wrist and paced back and forth, running his hand through his hair.

“Estinien?”

He said nothing as he backed her against the side wall, pinning her there. “Tell me you love him.”

“What?” Saoirse’s anxiety melted into confusion.

“Say you love him so I can rid myself of this incessant fever and focus my efforts elsewhere.”

“But I…Estinien…I’m not in love with Haurchefant.” Before she could admit her own feelings Estinien turned away from her and looked to the sky. She’d never seen him so frustrated that he sacrificed his composure. She reached out her hand to touch his shoulder and he caught her wrist.

In one swift motion he had her back against the wall, her wrists pinned on either side of her head with his lips pressed firmly to hers. He kissed her eagerly and let her hands fall to her sides so he could wrap his arms around her and hold her against him, deepening his passion.

Saoirse returned his fire with the same earnest, until they were forced to part for breath. Estinien cupped her face in his hands. “I fear I may be unequipped to care for you properly…I have been set in my ways for a long time, Saoirse and it has made me unkind.”

Saoirse shook her head and placed her palms to Estinien’s face with a smile. “The only way to melt ice is warmth…Your cold will thaw and the world will see you as I do.”

“And how is that?”

“Beneath all your stubbornness and complications is a good man.” Saoirse tucked a strand of Estinien’s hair back behind his ear. “Your hatred for Nidhogg runs deep, but only because your love for what you lost runs deeper. Your capacity for love is greater than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Estinien diverted his gaze, his embarrassment evident by the color of his face. “When I met you…I finally understood why they called you the Warrior of Light.” Estinien looked back at Saoirse and smiled. “You are radiant…and so long as I am able…I will protect that brilliance with my life. Until my own flame flickers out.” Estinien wrapped his arms around her and held her against him, cradling her head against his chest. “Because I love you.”

Saoirse returned his embrace. “I love you too…”

And in that moment, the glimmer of light that Saoirse had seen back in Sohm Al was blindingly evident…and warm as spring.

To be continued?

#ffxivwrite2019 #ffxiv writing challenge #ffxivwriting2019 #estinien #estinien wyrmblood #saiorse argentum #rava viera #viera #elezen #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #heavensward #Ishgard #Dragoon #azure dragoon #haurchefant #haurchefant greystone #alphinaud leveilleur

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