#GIL chapter two

[beachyserasims]

Geneva Island Legacy┃Chapter two┃ Feel The Need

~ Transcript ~

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[hollygl125]

Survivors: Vegas, After the Roller Coaster: An Epilogue

Chapters: 4/4 (+ soundtrack listing) Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation (TV 2000) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gil Grissom/Sara Sidle Characters: Gil Grissom, Sara Sidle Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Nerds in Love, Romance, Fluff, i just need them to be happy, totally self-indulgent, CSI as Rom-Com, Emphasis on Rom, Don't Hold Your Breath for Com, F. Scott Would Say I'm a Sentimental Person Not a Romantic One, Science Nerds (Affectionate), emotional journey, Epilogue, I’m really pleased with the WHMS tie-in in this one Series: Part 13 of Survivors in the Night: A Las Vegas Love Story

Summary:

Individually and together, Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom reflect back upon their roller coaster ride—both literal and metaphorical. 💕🎢 Set during and (mostly) just after the end of season 1 of CSI: Vegas.

“We’ve survived a lot. It’s definitely been an adventure. But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

[grassbreads]

For the love of god someone explain to me why there are not one but TWO whole Caucus Race stories whose plot is "Alice unintentionally freaks out one of her friends because she doesn't know what sex is and makes them think she's coming onto them."

[redwitchrune]

thinking about them btw

[finmoryo]

Thinking about my OC Elach Maicamírë, daughter of Celebrimbor and ftm trans Maeglin as Gil-galad. Maeglin nearly dies giving birth to her (Míriel situation, Celebrimbor is heartbroken) and gives her the name Elach when he sees a vision, but forgets it when he wakes up from his traumatic birth coma a couple months later (Elrond managed to soothe his spirit or something idk yet). He is horrified to relive the vision when she burns alive and can do nothing but watch and remember what he named her.

[waitingandwishing]

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Word Count: 2.3k "𝖫𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌" ━━ Ever since you were a kid, all you wanted was to be cared for.

You stretched out your legs, breathing in to calm your nerves. You and Rumi exchanged glances. This was it. This was Huntrix’s time to shine. 

“How’re you feeling?” You asked, standing beside her. She paused, clicking off her phone before smiling. It was nice to see Rumi less nervous, especially since the past few days had been really stressful.

“Good.” She let out a breath, eyes full of determination and relief. Rumi and You would finally be free of your demons, your patterns. You guys could finally just be Hunters. Friends. “More than good, actually.”

“Are you excited for the bathhouse?” You nudged her side with your elbow. She let out a soft chuckle, though the moment of quiet was quickly interrupted by Bobby rushing into the room frantically.

“Girls, the Saja Boys are fighting!” He yelled.

“What?” You all asked.

“That means you’re on now!” Bobby said excitedly.

“Okay, this is it.” Rumi smiled, the four of your gathering into a small huddle.

“For the fans.” You said, squeezing Rumi’s shoulder gently.

“For the world.” Zoey grinned, her smile wider than it ever was before.

“For us.” Mira said, eyes full of affection and care.

“Yes! We win this, and then we celebrate with Itaewon corn dogs!” Bobby cheered as he ran out of the room with his arms up in the air.

Mira and Zoey both bounded up ahead, their arms interlinked. You and Rumi exchanged glances before nodding. Rumi secured her earpiece onto her head before holding your hand and leading you towards the stage. “We got this, Y/n!” 

You smiled and nodded, still falling behind slightly as you adjusted the zipper of your jacket. “Totally!” You smiled.

“Uh, okay, uh, there’s been a slight change in schedule.” The announcer said to the crowd, the instrumental of Golden now playing from the speakers. “Here to perform their hot new single, ‘Golden’, it’s Huntrix!”

The four of you were bathed in Golden light, standing front and center on stage as you all stood behind Rumi with your arms arranged perfectly like always.

“I was a ghost, I was alone,” Rumi sang, the three of you now separating from behind her. You stood, your arms raised above your head as the braided haired girl knelt down to keep you in view. “Eo du wojin, ap gil sok e.”

“Given the throne, I didn’t know how to believe.” Rumi stood between Zoey and Mira with your back facing Rumi as you knelt down in front of her. You then separated into a line, waving your arms and dipping downwards. “I was the queen that I’m meant to be!”

The four of you walked down the steps of the stage, Zoey and Mira leaning in before you all stood in a line. The three of them quickly separated, revealing you to sing. 

“You were the star,” You stepped forward, hands twirling above your head before you snapped your head and rotated to the left so Zoey could step up next. You winced at another migraine throbbing in your head. The bright lights must’ve been messing with you… “So I dimmed my light, guess what? I’ve been burnin’ this whole time!”

“I live two lives, tried to play both sides,” The three of you stepped backwards, doing the same moves as Zoey with your hands, “But, I couldn’t find my own place!”

“Called a problem child ‘cause I got too wild,” Mira moved her shoulders, a smirk on her face as she kicked to the side with a slight jump. She raised her hands, Zoey and Rumi on her side while you kneeled in front of her with your heads down. She lifted her hands alongside your heads, almost like a puppeteer moving marionettes. “But, now that’s how I’m getting paid. Kkeut eop si on stage!”

The stage lights dimmed, a spot light illuminating Mira and Zoey as they stepped off stage. You exited off stage with Mira and Zoey, chattering giddily at the sight of Rumi flying through the air. Her long braid trailed behind her, and a smile on her face. Not a torn one carrying burdens but… A smile.

Your eyes traveled on her figure, full of longing and affection. She was amazing… You looked at the crowd, their cheers of adoration and admiration growing louder and louder. Your smile faltered slightly. That was good. They loved her. They loved Huntrix.

“Y/N, they’ve got Bobby!” Mira said, pulling you alongside them.

“What?!” You widened your eyes, head turning to Rumi. The crowd didn’t know you three were supposed to be on… Rumi could handle sealing the Honmoon by herself. It wasn’t like she needed your help.

You blinked, off put by the sudden thought, before running after Zoey and Mira. THe hallways were dark and oddly eerie as you ran through. You huffed, Mira and Zoey just out of reach before you were pulled away.

You let out a yell, though it was muffled by a clawed hand. You thrashed and kicked, channeling your weapon before being thrown onto the ground in a dark area. You steeled yourself for a fight, only to be met with silence and solitude.

“...What?” You muttered, looking around only to find that the only thing illuminating the darkness was your weapon. “Guys?!”

Your voice echoed throughout the oddly weird void. “They’re not here…”

Your voice caught in your throat, another searing headache piercing through your clouded mind. You let out a whine of pain, bringing your hand up to your head before white flashed through your eyes. You shook your head, crumpling to the ground with ragged breaths as the darkness seemed to start to swallow you whole…

⚠️WARNING: MENTIONS OF ABUSE, BLOOD, KILLING, AND NEGATIVE THOUGHTS! PLEASE SKIP IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE!!⚠️

The courtyard was silent except for the sound of rope tightening around your wrists and the crackle of your breath as you knelt, face pressed toward the polished stone.

The sanggung’s fan snapped open. Her voice, clipped and smooth, rang out like ceremonial bells. “The musuri overstepped. She broke palace regulation by consorting privately with a male court musician. She will receive ten strikes.”

‘The musuri’, she said. Not your name, or even your last name at that, but simply a title. A title made to weaken you and make you feel small. And it did. ‘The musuri’. At least there was a ‘the’ in it. At least that meant you were something… You were sure she didn’t even remember your name, in fact, you barely remembered yours at times. You bit down hard, tasting blood. 

The first strike landed across your back. CRACK! Fire bloomed under your skin, and your breath caught. CRACK! The second made your hands clench so hard you nearly snapped your fingers.

And then— “Stop! Stop! She didn’t do anything wrong!”

His voice shattered the silence. Every head turned, even the guards paused. He was there. The bipa player, rushing forward, hair windswept, voice raw with panic. He pushed past two eunuchs before one caught his sleeve.

“It was me!” he cried. “It was my fault, I stayed behind, I spoke to her, I-I asked her to speak with me!”

The sanggung raised a single hand. The eunuch froze.“You are not permitted to speak during punishment,” she said coldly.

“Then punish me!” he shouted. “Strike me in her place! Please!”

She turned toward him, slow and cold. “You are a performer. A servant of sound. Not a man of the court. Speak again, and you will lose your position.”

He stayed silent at the threat. You looked up. Blood blurred your vision, but you saw him. Your love. Your Jinu. With his arms trembling, eyes wide with something like grief. His voice shook the air, but no one moved. 

You wondered why he didn’t protest anymore. But you couldn’t be selfish because at least someone did. At least someone cared enough to speak up. Even if that meant going silent after the threat of losing a position and title…

CRACK! The third strike slammed across your shoulder blades, pulling a choked noise from your chest. His knees buckled as if it hit him instead.

“Enough,” the sanggung said, flicking her fan shut. “Take him away. If he protests again, silence him.”

The eunuchs grabbed him. Jinu struggled desperately, reaching toward you like a drowning man. “Y/N, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

You couldn’t speak. You only shook your head, begging with your eyes. Please stop, please don’t let them destroy him too. You could die. You were fine with dying, but you couldn’t let Jinu die. Not him. Please, gods, protect him.

CRACK! The final blow knocked the breath from your lungs and stopped the beating in your heart. There was a… Gentle stillness that came when your vision darkened. The only thing that played in your ears other than the ringing was the faint sound of bipa strings being plucked.

“You don’t remember, Y/N?”

“Remember what?” You asked. The sound of your voice was soft, almost… Meek, though it echoed throughout your tears and the black sorrow that surrounded you whole.

“Your promise to me.” The voice slithered, almost like if a snake had a voice, into your head. The dark buried crevices of your mind grew wider, opening up into chasms as something- Someone opened them up again. “You’d get to live another day. Until you’re reborn into someone important. And in return, you’d defeat the Hunters for me.”

“Gwi-Ma?!” You stood, enraged as you turned to summon your weapon. The weapon that… Didn’t come to your hand? 

“I showed you the truth, didn’t I? You should be grateful that those were the only memories you were able to see…” Though Gwi-Ma hadn’t shown his face like a coward, you could tell that there was a smirk on it. “Would you like me to reveal more?

Celine knelt down in front of you, brushing off your clothes. You were about five, and while Rumi was training in the other room, Celine had taken you out for some fresh air. “Celine…” You muttered, looking at your shaking hands, “I thought Hunters only came in groups of three. Why’re there four of us?”

Although you didn’t say anything then, you could see her hesitation. She turned to look at you with a soft smile instead. “It’s just in case.” She said, “If Rumi doesn’t… Want to become a Hunter, then you’ll be there.”

“She had placed a loving hand on your shoulder then. But… It was obvious from the start.” Gwi-Ma’s voice was close to your ear, causing you to jump forward. “You’ve always been a replacement for her. You’ve always been the second choice in case something went wrong.”

You saw a flicker of a figure in the distance, lunging forward with your first only for it to simply be a puff of smoke. 

“You had always known the truth, haven’t you, Y/N?” Gwi-Ma asked.

“That’s not- That’s not how that conversation went!” You yelled.

“Wasn’t it? Your lyrics would prove otherwise.” Gwi-Ma laughed, “At first, I thought that you had been accidentally born to be unimportant again. But… Time prevailed. Like always.”

You collapsed to the floor, fire burning through your veins as your markings illuminated the darkness. You let out a yell, multiple voices and memories clouding your head. 

Celine’s strained smile every time Rumi performed better than you had, Zoey and Mira’s disappointed faces at the sight of your markings, the applause from the audience, Jinu’s act of desperation as he tried to comfort you, and Rumi’s hopelessness as she covered her markings. It was all so loud, so overwhelming. You needed them gone.

“You’re selfish. How could you not be happy for Rumi?”

“You’ll never be good enough.”

“You should’ve stayed silent and never talked to Jinu in the first place.”

“You’ll never love anything without messing things up.”

“Mira and Zoey will always choose Rumi over you.” 

“Maybe this is the reason why your parents sent you to live with Celine.”

“Celine would’ve killed you like any other demon if your markings had shown up earlier.”

“Why do you even stick around?”

“Get out of my head!” You yelled, patterns flaring into a bright light once again at your yell. The air around you rippled, the once golden threads keeping demons at bay now flashing a magenta. Your voice was distorted, a deeper and almost demonic sound coming from your throat.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Y/N…” Gwi-Ma chuckled, his voice deep and strong. “But… What I do is make them disappear.” You lifted your head, magenta fire burning before you in the darkened room. “In fact, I can make everything disappear. Your pains, sorrows, everything. I’ll even let you keep your soul.”

“Why?” You asked. “You’re a demon who’s a cheater.”

“But you’re a mortal who’s a traitor.” Gwi-Ma said, “And that alone proves that you don’t have a soul to begin with.”

(A/N: So... uh... How we feeling about this?)

taglist: @the-bookish-artist @nisarelle @iviorienne @justanindiangirl12 @t4naiis @usuallyunlikelyfox @livsh20 @venommie @dprweganggang03 @satansdaughter123 @yumekono @arkcitrus @ateezswonderland @chalahyung01 @maryloudiaries @katzline @prettylittlelavvy

[gowerhardcastle]

Seven Hard-Won Tips Specifically for Writing Interactive Fiction

This is pretty fun, putting together these lists of writing tips. Today's list is explicitly about interactive fiction.

The trick to writing great interactive fiction that anticipates, foreshadows, introduces themes early, and has interesting choices that set up later events is to *go back and rewrite the earlier chapters* after you’ve written later chapters.  That way you look like a genius who can plot things out way in advance, but in fact, you just went back and made it seem that way.  Good writing is recursive, and that’s just how it is.

I start with an outline, then I write a code skeleton, leaving blanks for the prose, and then go in and fill in the prose.  This way I’m either in code-brain or prose-writing-brain.  I don’t like switching between the two.  Then, after than phase, I go back one more time and I do the callbacks—you know.  Might the main character be wearing a feathered boa in this scene?  Here’s some custom text.  Might the main character be limping?  Here’s some more custom text.  If you do that after you write the prose, you’ll have the leisure to think of anything fun and specific you can use. 

Callbacks tell players that their choices are unique, important, memorable, and valued by the writer.  It tell them that their choices have led them down their own particular path that the writer is rewarding with unique prose.  It doesn’t have to have a stat effect or create a new fork in the narrative.  Great prose is the reward.

Find an group of alpha readers to read your work early and often and then shut up while they read it and just listen to what they say and comment.  You must resist the urge to explain because you won’t be there at everyone’s house when they are playing your game or reading your narrative.

Make rules for yourself about how you are going to name your variables.  Don’t do what I did, with a horrible blend of sometimes calling a chracter “gil” in the variables and sometimes “gilberto”; sometimes “fitz” and sometimes “fitzie”; sometimes “metvyv” and sometimes “met_tabby”—ugh!  This is self-torture.  Don’t do what I did.

Keep your initial creation of variables super organized.  Write comments in there explaining what these variables are and when you might need them.  I comment most when I am creating variables.  You might create a variable in chapter one called “mustardallergy” that you don’t need until chapter eight, so write a comment that says “variables for chapter eight” and stick that “mustardallergy” variable under it.  I didn’t do this for my first games, and I regretted it. 

Use generic variables and make your life easy.  If you are writing a scene at the racetrack, just make a “xrace” modifier and add and subtract to it willy-nilly to represent just general ups and downs of fortune.  Stub your toe?  -5 xrace.  Wear a fine hat?  +8 xrace.  Throw around some money at the bar?  +12 xrace!  Eat some bad shellfish?  -15 xrace! Then add xrace to every test.  It’s a way of tracking just the ups and downs of fortune.  You can omit it when it doesn’t make sense, but it’s just a great way to make tests and rewards and penalties cumulatively meaningful without having to have a billion variables tracking every last *reason* for the rewards and penalties.

Discover more mini-essays about writing interactive fiction, writing in general, and the process of writing the forthcoming Jolly Good series below.

[hippothebrave]

Gil-galad Is Secretly Eärendil

think about it.

two Finwëans raised by Círdan at the end of the First Age?? how likely is that??

one mysteriously disappeared... one mysteriously appeared...

how do we know Eärendil's REALLY up there in the sky anyway? has anyone checked?

what does "Gil-Galad" mean? STAR.

their crests look basically the same

related to Elrond

In summary:

(anyway, I wrote a fic about this! nine chapters, already finished, posting daily: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63670309/chapters/163211869)

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

-Jang Hayun, Lee Felix and Han Jisung are college students who run a very successful true-crime podcast called Three Sunshines' Guide To Murder. For their one year anniversary, they decide to cover the five year old murder of Shin Yuna and the subsequent confession and suicide of Yuna's girlfriend, Lee Chaeryeong who is the older sister of one Lee Minho (Heavily Inspired by Holly Jackson's Book Triology; A Good Girl's Guide To Murder)

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem!reader (College AU) (reader is named Hayun)

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

Profiles: Murder Specialists; Theatre Kids & 1 Lawyer

Prologue Chapter One: DEFCON ONE Potential Chapter Two: WHORE HOUSE Chapter Three: Be Anything But Yourselves Chapter Four: I Murder Women For Fun Vibes Chapter Five: Scooby Squad Chapter Six: Playing Baby Sitter Chapter Seven: Waiting For Death Chapter Eight: Cornered Animals Bite Chapter Nine: Out Chapter Ten: Only She Knows The Rules Chapter Eleven: She's Too Powerful Chapter Twelve: I'm Praising You Chapter Thirteen: The Minho Way Chapter Fourteen: Burn It Chapter Fifteen: Who's The Daddy? Chapter Sixteen: All This Time Chapter Seventeen: MIRACULOUS LADYBUG Chapter Eighteen: Windows To Your Soul Chapter Nineteen: You Made Her Your Downfall Chapter Twenty: Cool Cool Cool Chapter Twenty One: It's Over Chapter Twenty Two: The Minho Way Still Sucks Chapter Twenty Three: Gil? Chapter Twenty Four: A Fuckton Of People Chapter Twenty Five: The Duke Or The Viscount? Chapter Twenty Six: Detox Chapter Twenty Seven: RUE WHEN WAS THIS? Chapter Twenty Eight: I Bite Chapter Twenty Nine: Narnia: The Bullshit Chronicles Chapter Thirty: Toad In The Pond Chapter Thirty One: Sounds Illegal As Fuck Chapter Thirty Two: Merry Fucking Christmas Chapter Thirty Three: Sex Starved Maniacs Chapter Thirty Four: Fan Event Chapter Thirty Five: You’re Too Good Chapter Thirty Six: There’s No Getting Away Chapter Thirty Seven: You Deserve Everything Chapter Thirty Eight: There Was A Fire Chapter Thirty Nine: Epilogue

Total Word Count: 102.65K Total SSs: 355

Moodboards:

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount @lily-loves-kpop @stilldontknowhoiam

@ziggy1221 @justaspoonofjam @tr-mha-fan @candycurshidkwhatthehell

@heeseungspookie @smigcrazy @skzstannie @nightmarenyxx @beaann

[cosmowgyral]

With You through every Season ~

(5th Anniversary Story Event - Me and You, Always)

▪︎ Gilbert von Obsidian

this is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. creative liberties have been taken. all content belongs to cybird. reblogs are appreciated but do not repost. hope you enjoy!

~chapter 3

Emma blinked rapidly at the sight before her��

Three people, including the royal family's personal doctor and close aide, were grilling meat and vegetables together.

A flame roared in a makeshift outdoor oven, warming even the usually chilly research lab.

Walter: I’m a doctor… I’ve said it many times, but I am a doctor.

Roderic: Doctor, the meat is burning.

Walter: This isn’t a doctor’s job. This kind of thing is for the head chef, right?

Roderic: The head chef is busy today…

Walter: Don’t talk like I’m some idle man. I’m far busier than my brother.

Gilbert: Shut it, bystander. Here—more meat.

Walter: Prince Gilbert… aren’t we in the way?

Gilbert: Yeah, you are.

Walter: Then I shall take my leave—

Gilbert: Autumn in Rhodolite… it’s all warm and festive.

Gilbert: But Obsidian is so dull and empty that it made the little rabbit homesick…

Gilbert: Walter, what do you think happens when I get sulky?

Walter: Enough talking. Roderic, stop slacking. Today, I’ll overlook the rudeness.

Roderic: …I didn’t say it quite like that.

(I’ve camped outdoors countless times… but grilling meat at the castle? That’s new.)

As Emma still stood stunned, I beckoned her over and handed her a prepared plate.

I placed a freshly grilled piece of meat on her plate, and although Emma looked skeptical, she took another bite.

Emma: Mmm, this is delicious! It tastes so different from the usual meat I eat.

Gilbert: Heehee, glad to hear it. Outdoor cooking is my specialty.

Gilbert: Autumn is the season of eating for you, right? So go ahead and eat as much as you want.

Roderic: By the way, the same meat is being served all around the castle today.

Roderic: Because it’s a gift from Prince Gilbert, the sight of soldiers dancing with joy can be seen all around.

Emma: …Why all this…

Gilbert: You’ve been sneaking around to prepare all those desserts just for me, haven’t you? So this is your reward.

Upon hearing that, Emma looked up, as if realizing I had found out about her plans.

But that recognition didn’t last long—her expression soon softened into one filled with suspicion.

Emma: I never imagined I’d receive such a wonderful reward… Thank you, Gil.

Gilbert: You’re welcome. By the way, do you want to try grilling too?

Emma: I do!

Gilbert: Then I’ll lend you my tongs. If you get burned, just say the word—we’ve got a doctor here.

Walter: …Ah, so that’s why I’m here.

Emma eagerly started grilling meat, and I hugged her from behind.

She didn’t push me away—instead, when our eyes met, she gave me a warm smile.

(So this is what it means to give someone a season…)

(…I didn’t know.)

A few months after the autumn dinner party, Obsidian was hit by its usual cold wave.

Emma: It may be inside the castle, but it’s still really cold.

The two of us stood by the window, looking up at the winter night sky.

Dawn was close, yet there was no sign of the sun.

Emma: Gil, are you okay?

Gilbert: You don’t have to worry so much. The heater’s working, at least.

Gilbert: Ah, but I catch colds easily when it’s cold, you know…

Gilbert: Isn’t there a kind, gentle little rabbit out there who could warm me up?

When I opened my arms, Emma dove in without a moment’s hesitation.

Gilbert: Heehee, so warm.

Emma: You’re way too cold, Gil.

Gilbert: That’s nothing new, is it?

Emma: You’re colder than usual in winter. So please, hold me tighter—no need to hold back.

Gilbert: Really? Then I’ll take you up on that.

I hugged Emma tightly as she sat on my lap, and comforting warmth soaked into my chilled body.

(Is this going to become our winter tradition?)

(Winter already has so many events—more than enough on its own… what a luxurious season.)

Emma: ...I wonder how many more minutes until the sun rises.

She murmured softly, clearly looking forward to the first sunrise of the new year.

Gilbert: It’ll probably take a little longer.

Emma: Then I suppose we’ll have to figure out how to pass the time.

Emma: I should’ve brought something we could play together with.

Gilbert: I might have brought something.

Emma: Huh? What is it?

Gilbert: Let's see—

With a snap of my fingers, I pulled something out from inside my cloak like a magic trick.

Emma: Alcohol?

Gilbert: Yep. Alcohol.

Emma: ...Are you really going to drink it?

Gilbert: I usually don’t want to, but… it’s a New Year’s tradition here in Obsidian.

(Warming yourself with a drink while waiting for the first sunrise of the year…)

(I never cared much about traditions like that before.)

I poured a small glass and was about to hand it to Emma—but then stopped, as I caught sight of her completely relaxed expression.

(With that face… she’s definitely thinking I’m some kind, decent person or something—)

(Yeah, no way I’m handing this over so easily.)

Just as I was about to hand it over, I pulled the glass back and took a sip myself.

Sensing the mischief in the air, Emma shut her eyes—

[Chapter 2] [Masterlist] [Chapter 4]

[beachyserasims]

Geneva Island Legacy┃Chapter two┃ Bodies

Bitch, get it together bitch ♫

Spicy version + Transcript below 18+ ONLY PLEASE

Beginning / Previous / Next

[aurorasgate]

101 ways to seduce a SOLDIER: prologue

sephiroth x fem!reader

series masterlist | series warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, established relationship, angst & fluff, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, explicit sexual content

chapter warnings: 3.8k+ words, more hurt than comfort for now, a bit of insecurties n worry

you love midgar at this time of day, right as the citizens begin to settle into their homes after another day of work and the sun is in the last few moments of setting; the few remaining rays of yellow light slowly being engulfed in the azure night. a cooling breeze accompanies the mako green hue of the street lights that have just begun to flicker on, illuminating the rest of your short walk to the bookstore.

it was one you knew by heart and muscle memory alone. when to leave on what days and what route to take in order to get there the hour before closing. each crack in the sidewalk familiar to your steps that always seem to avoid them just so, the closing of the other store fronts almost perfectly timed with your passing of them. 

perhaps it was the same muscle memory that brought you to look upwards at the tinkling of the bell as you open the bookstores creaky wooden door and feel the warmth from inside the building kissing your cheeks. sephiroth would normally have stood next to you, peering down at you with that sweet smile that was just for you while he held the door open for you before he spent a pretty piece of gil on books for you both.

or maybe it was just your longing, aching, heart hoping that he would be there like you wished him to be. your chest tightens when you are only met with the doors hinges that groan as it closes behind you and leaves you staring at the side of an old bookshelf. 

trying to leave the uncomfortableness in your chest at the door, you push forward with a shaky step and pull out your phone to read through your texts with sephiroth to confirm the title of the book you had offered to grab for him while he continued to work. it was mission after mission after mission lately and even when he did have a break or when he was only gone for the day, every moment at home was spent resting and getting ready for the next call that was surely not far off.

of course you both knew it could be like this at times, especially while the war with wutai continues on but it didn’t make it suck any less to not be able to be with him in so many ways. and it really fucking sucks.

you keep your phone held close to your chest with each step you take deeper into the bookstore, past the round cashiers desk in the middle of the small store where a familiar older woman sits and nods with a wrinkled smile as you pass by her. she had never said much to either you or sephiroth while you were here, outside of thanking you for your continued patronage and letting her know if she could special order anything for you. it was odd to not have someone fawning over him or asking for autographs or photos but for whatever reason she never had and it was one of the reasons you continued to come here.

you return her smile and hurry past her so you won’t take up too much of her time. no one else was in the shop besides the two of you and most nights when you came here with sephiroth, it was the same. comfortable, quiet and with an abundance of books from bedtime children's stories to rare collectables from wutai.

each bookshelf that lines every wall and splits the space into several smaller sections are made of different designs and woods, like each one had simply found itself here after no longer being needed in its previous home. in the extra spaces sit more mismatched tables that are stacked with books and advertising signs, hand written in a looping bold script and colorful ink.

right outside the historical section, one in particular catches your eye; a book with a deep purple cover and pink and gold lettering sitting on top of a square table with big leaf vines carved into the legs. the stack of books seemed to be missing quite a few, many already bought and these ones not far off. all that was left was a few scattered on the edges of the table and the stack of five or so laying one on top of the other in the middle of the table. sitting on the stack of them, a standing sign reads: 

‘ranked midgars #1 in women's reading! featured in women of shinra magazine & sworn to work by gold saucer actress ramona maroon selling fast, get your copy today!’

you take a step towards the table and tentatively reach for one of the books at the edge closest to you. it’s light, the cover smooth and untouched by wear and tear but it starts to feel like a live bomb in your hands as you read the title and the smaller normal script below it.

‘101 ways to seduce your partner

have you lost that intimate spark? is work taking up all of their time? need to recatch their attention? this book is for you! a fool proof way to getting close and intimate with your partner once again’

you snort at first. this is a best seller? are so many of the relationships of midgar really in such need? but there’s an undeniable ache in your body that reminds you yours is not faring much better at the moment. 

when was the last time you and sephiroth had been even close to intimate? outside of chaste kisses and embraces that were never long enough or outside of sleep, you can’t recall the last time you had felt his hands on you or when you had last caught his hungry gaze on you. you aren’t sure when you last saw his sculpted body outside of his uniform, got to feel him and love on him like he deserves.

surely it hadn’t come to this though.. you weren’t so desperate as to need a book's advice on how to get your boyfriend to look your way. does it even apply if your partner is a soldier? the circumstances are totally different. it’s not like either of you wanted this and it wasn’t because that spark was dead. 

it wasn’t.. right?

no.. stupid book. 

quickly, like it was burning your hands, you set it back down on the table and make your way deep into the historical section, ignoring the heat in your cheeks as you read down the book spines until you find the one sephiroth wanted and hug it against your chest like a shield when you have to walk past the table of purple books again to check out.

you don’t need a book to get yourself anxious over your relationship or to tell you how to fix it. there's nothing to even fix! you chide yourself. life had just been busy and tiring and you already knew you could catch sephiroths attention, that you could ignite that spark even when it had been untouched for longer than you could clearly handle.

you could and would do something about it, for both your sakes, without the help of a book for the housewives and husbands of midgar. surely he needed it too.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

when you had received sephiroths text a few days later letting you know he’d be returning back same day after having to leave you once again in the earliest parts of the morning, you knew exactly how you were going to welcome him home. 

with your shopping for supplies out of the way, which you did with a giddy smile you could hardly contain, you had spent the better half of the late afternoon and early evening getting ready. ensuring your hair and makeup was to your liking and trying on all of your lingerie sets until you settled on the little lacey black piece you knew sephiroth loved. it hugs your figure perfectly and sits along your hips comfortably while leaving your back exposed and the dip of the neckline goes past your navel. the fabric lays lightly over your breasts but a small tug one way or the other would expose the most intimate parts of you so easily.

after getting ready, you throw on a robe to keep warm and covered until it’s time to feel so very vulnerable and exposed once you are in the presence of your beloved. you weren’t quite sure when sephiroth would be back but as the sun dips below the walls of midgar, you’re opening a bottle of wine and lighting the candles you had purchased earlier and had set along the living area and open kitchen that shared the large space, eagerly waiting for his return.

warm melted wax begins to pool at the center of each candle until it spills over the edge and onto the surface you had placed under them the longer the night goes on without sephiroth coming home. you’ve hardly moved from the spot you had taken on the couch, couldn’t let go of the edge of the cushion or calm your anxious heart as you waited and checked your phone again and again but no text or call came through and the time on your homescreen only continued to get later.

with your heart in your throat and making your eyes water even though you swore you wouldn’t cry, you were about to give up, blow out the candles and get changed into one of his oversized shirts to get ready to fall asleep while you waited for him to get home when you hear the front door lock turning. your held back tears are still glistening on your lash line but your face breaks out into a bashful smile as relief washes over you. quickly you untie your robe and toss it to the corner of the couch, cursing yourself for not deciding during your waiting on how you would pose or greet him when he walked in.

should you go with a hushed ‘welcome home’ as you pull him down to kiss you and stand on your toes to meet him? lay on the couch and sit up to beckon him over once he sees you? perhaps no words were needed but rather a sultry walk and a needy gaze until you’re in his arms and he takes you right there in the entryway, against the wall?

goddess it didn’t matter as long as you got to feel his hands and lips on you.

smoothing out the lace along your body and taking a deep breath, you feel all of your worries and anxieties completely evaporate at the sight of sephiroths tall figure and shining silver hair coming through the door. you feel a bit shy dressed in so little when he’s in his full uniform, so small and helpless; a tiny crystal offering to a god among men. but you’re entranced by the soft metal clinking of his armor and accessories, the sway of hair, the hands that hold you so tenderly but never let you go. you know there’s no reason to worry and don’t let the small, vulnerable feeling pooling in your belly stop you from taking a quiet step in his direction.

“seph~” you coo quietly, your sultry smile evident in your voice even to yourself. 

but he doesn’t respond to your call. it’s as if he hadn’t noticed you or the flames flickering around him at all. like his body is on autopilot. his strides are long, quiet, and go straight past you, just out of arm's reach, and into the bedroom without taking in anything else around him or looking in your direction. in the shadows of the candle light and the length of his bangs covering his features, you can’t make out his expression or see his eyes but can feel his warmth and smell the last remnants of his floral shampoo as he passes by you.

you go to call his name again, try to grab his attention, maybe his hand, but there’s a lump in your throat keeping you from even breathing and a heaviness to your entire body that roots you in place when there's only his lingering scent to cling onto in the place you had expected him to take you into his arms. 

this was.. not what you were expecting or prepared for; was more than your heart could handle and as you stand here alone, it feels more fragile than you had last remembered it.

he’s not ignoring you. he’s not. and you haven’t lost that spark. you haven’t. he still wants you.. still wants to be with you.. he does.. 

you swallow your anxious, unwelcomed, thoughts: bitter and hard and settling at the bottom of your stomach like bricks. he must be exhausted. it just wasn’t a good night for this. that’s all.. 

once you’re able to force yourself to move, you’re quick to blow out the candles and hurry into the bedroom after sephiroth but in the time you had taken, he had shed his entire outfit, leaving it on the floor near his side of the bed in a neat pile and, in only his boxers, has quite literally fallen into bed. you hear the dull thumb of his body against the mattress as you enter the room, not even able to pull himself under the covers.

from your place near the bedroom door, you can’t help but think how normally he would look younger like this, spread out along the large mattress with his features soft in the realm between consciousness and sleep. but tonight he looks weathered, evident dark circles under his eyes in the moonlight, his breaths deep like they were the first real ones he had taken all day. when he reaches towards your side of the bed and is met with nothing, his brows knit, his lips turning downwards in deep expressive displeasure. boyish like you remember him to be and it makes your heart go through an ungodly amount and levels of emotions in a span of a few beats.

it aches and bursts with warmth all at once. joins the heaviness of your stomach but still provides life to the butterflies knocking against your rib cage. chokes you and provides you with hope and worry and reminds you not to just stand there when he’s finally within arms reach. while you still have him.

leaving your lingerie among the pile of his uniform on the floor near the bed, you quickly slip into one of sephiroths cotton training t-shirts and crawl into bed, unsuccessfully attempting to get the covers from underneath his large body so he can be properly tucked in because as soon as he feels you, his arms are around you, gathering you to his chest and pressing you tightly against him.

a soft, barely audible murmur of your name leaves his lips and seeps into your hair where he presses a slow, sleepy kiss. he’s so warm, his heartbeat steady in your ears, his arms unyielding in their hold on you and you don’t know what it is exactly that has you shedding a few tears against your will, the wetness of them lingering on your cheeks and his chest as you, more quickly than you expected and without warning, follow him into the sands of sleep.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

though days later and a few hours earlier than when you would normally come, the bookstore brought the same blanket of warmth as soon as you entered, the smell of parchment, ink and leather prominent in the air. you don’t look up expecting sephiroth to be beside you like you had before but instead take your time studying the labeled sections as you pass by them slowly and try to remind yourself sephiroth would be here with you again soon. 

his absence was something you had felt tenfold since he left for wutai the afternoon after your failed attempt at seducing him. you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the apology text you had woken up to or the neatly folded lingerie that was placed on top of the dresser by sephiroth before he had left for shinra hq in the early morning while you were still sleeping. 

you were quick to shove the lace in the back of your drawer and reply to sephiroths text with reassurance that it was alright and an emoticon you did not really relate to at that moment. he had asked you if you were sure you were alright when you met in the afternoon to say your farewells in person before he left for wutai but your smile felt a little more honest then as he held you, kissed you deeply, like he needed it - you - more than air in his lungs, and you promised him everything was okay despite your slightly defeated heart and that aching yearning that was starting to feel like a more permanent part of you.

it is okay, missing him is normal and he’s missing you too. you repeat the reassurance to yourself and attempt to focus on the bookshelves in front of you. a plastic stand holding a piece of paper with sparkling black and red ink that advertises the well stocked vampire romance novels below it tells you that you’ve wandered into the start of the adult section and with light steps you keep going, taking your time to see if any catch your eyes as you go from section to section. 

by the time you’ve made it a little more than halfway through the entire store, three books cradled in your arms and ready to come home with you, you find yourself facing the children's section, facing a self displaying mismatched used books and behind you sits an oversized shelf full of years worth of different prints of loveless. one of the childrens books catches your attention, a thick story book with a tan binding and colorfully painted dragons on the spine- a compilation of wutian children's stories.

laying the childrens book against the stack of the other books in your arms, you flip through a few pages, taking in the softly lined and colored lanterns, the little creatures, and the delicate lettering telling their story that flows along the pages. you’ve never read children's stories from wutai, don’t really remember any stories being told to you from your own childhood, but the pang you feel in your chest is for your beloved who more than likely had never had a story read to him in his whole life.

well, aside from genesis reading loveless over and over again.

adding the children's book to the stack of books coming home with you, holding tightly onto your wish to read it with sephiroth when he comes home, the weight now in your arms tells you it’s best to call it here. feeling the heaviness of them cradling in your arms, the crisp edges resting against your middle, you can’t help but think of sephiroth again. your mind wanders to the many memories you have in this one building alone, imagining the way he’d suddenly be behind you without having made a noise, the pads of his fingers finding the small of your back and a soft secret smile to his tone as he asks if he can carry the books for you like it would be his genuine pleasure to do so.

so many times he had done just that and you hold onto the fact that soon he’d be back, in your arms, in your bed, right behind you as you buy more books than your apartment could likely hold, like this little part of your life made it some kind of normal that you both longed for, together.

as if to taunt you right on queue, with your head so full of your beloved, being together with him - something you were severely lacking at the moment, there was that purple book only a few steps away from you as you turn to leave the children's section. you swallow thickly as you read the cover from a distance even though you recognized the pink lettering immediately but read it again just to be sure.

‘101 ways to seduce your partner

have you lost that intimate spark? is work taking up all of their time? need to recatch their attention? this book is for you! a fool proof way to getting close and intimate with your partner once again’

one single copy. misplaced on a side table it didn’t belong to but standing out against the pile of much less intimidating books surrounding it. you glance around the store, like someone might come to claim it as their own any second, apologizing for leaving it here while they went to look at something else but there only seemed to be you and the store owner in her usual place at the register.

you and her and this stupid, stupid book.

but maybe it wasn’t so stupid.. a small voice inside you whispers. you wanted his attention, didn’t you? soldier or not, sephiroth is a person with desires and feelings, wants and needs. no one in midgar was immune to that, not even the strongest of them. and maybe you could use something to cling onto. to give you a direction, hope to hold, to add to your spark - not letting yourself admit for a second that perhaps it was lost. and if nothing else, you could giggle over the more ridiculous suggestions.

your cheeks burn as you grab the copy of the book as you pass by it and hastily add it to the bottom of your pile, probably looking more like you were contemplating shoplifting it rather than embarrassed about purchasing it but there’s no knowing tells or side eyes by the shop owner as she adds together the price of each book and with care places them in the reusable bag you had brought with you and slides it across the counter with a thanking nod, without taking any gil from you.

before you can say anything, she explains with a small smile that crinkles the edges of her eyes, “mr. sephiroth came in a few days ago and filled a tab for you so you’re all set.” she looks down at her log book, scribbling down what you assume is the price of your haul today and when she meets your gaze again she adds, “will be for the next long while.”

you can feel the flame in your heart flickering in the wing beats of the butterflies swarming your chest and the giggle you can’t help but let out that sephiroth had set up a tab at a bookstore and had likely filled it with more money than you could possibly use while he was away. 

“thank you,” you reply with a smile of your own, gathering your bag but you hold it to your chest rather than by the handles, feeling the smaller purple book pressed against you the entire walk home.

↬ next: part one [coming soon..]

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Masterlist

All of my fics are available on AO3 under the same username Criticallyinneedofadar! AO3 Link

Rings of Power

Elrond (interconnected one shots)

A Flower Among Stone

The Price of Compassion

Among Friends and Enemies

A Jewel in the Garden

To Wonder At the Stars

Two Ships Passing in the Night

Meeting in the Meadow

The Rock and the Vine

Adar

Starlight Jewels - One Shot

Beyond Hope - One shot

A Life Lost in Time- One shot, can be read with Beyond Hope.

Alliance of Shadows- Series (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7) (Chapter 8) (Chapter 9) (Chapter 10) (Chapter 11) (Chapter 12) (Epilogue)

Berries- One Shot

Yuletide Joy- One Shot

Across Time- (Chapter 1)

Elendil

Together in Grief - One Shot

A Grave Homecoming- One shot

The Valar's Blessing - One Shot

Summer Rain- Ask

Cargo Barrels - One Shot

Errands- Ask

The Agony of Deception- Prequel to Banks of Edhellond

The Banks of Edhellond- Ask

Gil Galad

The Weight of the Weary - One Shot

Lovely Thorn (Part 1 ) (Part 2 )

An Unexpected Joy- One Shot

Royal Duties- One Shot

Beside You - One Shot

Celebrimbor

An Artist's Gaze- One shot

Lemon Cakes and a Melody- One Shot

Male Reader- Ask

The Princess of Lindon- One Shot

Steel and Song- Ask

Lord of the Rings

Faramir

Ask

The Hobbit

Thorin Oakenshield

A Song of Home- One Shot

Public Relations(hips)- One Shot

House of the Dragon

Cregan Stark

The North / Part 2/

Game of Thrones

Benjen Stark

The Ranger and the Wildling

[tootoomanycats]

The Plan

Chapter One: Best Laid Plans...

Pairing:

Gil-Galad x Human Reader Fem

Word Count: 6,415 words

If you prefer to read on AO3 its HERE

Summary: (SET IN THE RINGS OF POWER TV SERIES) (Takes place years before the first episode) As time settles the world’s chaos, Gil-Galad begins to feel an unusual boredom. After centuries of war, his days are now filled with mundane paperwork, the ink on the parchment mocking him with its monotony. When he receives a letter from Master Boat Builder Cirdan, asking for aid for a small group of humans whose ship has sunk, Gil-Galad agrees, recognizing his duty to help. Upon meeting the High King, you are caught off guard by an unexpected attraction. With your ship at the bottom of the bay, you aim to use your charm to secure a new vessel for yourself and your crew. However, as days go by, Gil-Galad's genuine compassion and kindness complicate things. The initial plan to flirt and deceive begins to clash with the genuine emotions that develop. You find yourself torn between the charming facade and emerging feelings for the High King. As the truth looms closer, the question remains—how will Gil-Galad react when he learns the real reason behind your visit?

Warnings:

Mentions of fire

Descriptions of injuries

Descriptions of partial nudity

Reader is not a holy good person.

Two ideots pining and refusing to acknowledge it.

Not Beta Read

(smut stuff will be in chapter two, promise)

Author Notes:

Hello Everyone!

It’s finally here! Thank you for being so patient while I finally got this done and posted. In my overeagerness, I was hoping to get this finished on New Year’s Day, but sadly, life and depression got a hold of me. I have entirely rewritten this chapter and how it plays out over four times. This time, I finally had to reel my worry that this wasn't good enough and just be okay with where it was. Please note that I'm writing this without sitting to very strict guidelines of what elves are commonly like in the book. I am writing Gil-Galad and Elves with the idea that history books and lore always paint figureheads and royalty as if they lived by strict morals and values. And I think it's much more interesting if we see what Gil-Galad would have experienced if he had fallen in love, and it, in the end, was kept secret from history. You'll notice that Elrond isn't going to be in this; that is because at the same time this story is going on- I have a one-shot of what Elrond is doing elsewhere. I am working on it, but I have no set date for finishing it as of right now. As always if you like what you have read please remember that fanfic writers live off of likes, comments and reblogs- we wont admit it but we all have praise kinks. Have you fed your starving artist today?

Tea.

Every night since his arrival in Grey Havens, the Master Boat Builder has made a point to enjoy a cup of tea before heading off to bed. Be it rain, snow, or shine, that cup of tea will always be had.

The weather was sublime this evening: cool temperatures, clear skies, and a calm breeze. Weather being what it is, he opened the workshop’s doors to watch as the sun’s last glow gave way to darkness.

Once the last sip was finished, he reached for the large doors to close them for the night. But as he pulled the last one, a shimmer of light in the water caught his attention; its reflection was unusually bright.

Leaning out the side, hand gripping the door handle for balance, he gasped in shock at finding the source. Just a few leagues away was a double-masted ship- inflamed.

Its bow was raised dramatically into the cool night air, exposing an accumulation of maritime fauna. The vessels aft dragged along the sea bed, echoing whenever it hit high points of rocks. What wood was visible was already ashes or becoming the next fuel source for the inferno. Screams and bodies jumping into the river could be heard above all else.

Running out of the boat house, Cirdan reached the town’s warning bell. Its massive size was stuck from disuse and rust. He kicked hard and kept kicking until his ankle and foot burned in protest, until finally, it groaned in movement. The piercing sound of the tocsin woke and alerted those who lived nearby as he shouted, “FIRE!”

It became chaos as orders were given, supplies packed, and horses mounted. The few elves who could, followed the older one, sprinting to offer aid to the tragedy’s survivors.

——

Wet, freezing, and homeless.

The strength it had taken to carry your first mate from the ship’s bowls to the deck had caused more than one muscle to pull. Short as he is, the man is surprisingly heavy.

Unfortunately, jumping from a burning ship was more manageable than carrying him to shore. As the line of buoyancy and gravity met, a new struggle began as you started to stand halfway out of the water.

Heavy, wet clothes worked against frozen, numb limbs with each soaking step to dry land and out of its icy grip. Ankles almost twisting with each slippery step on the shore rocks before finally collapsing onto soft sand.

A small blessing was the man you had carried came too with only a few short chest compressions. You joined him on the sand once he could fully sit up and catch his breath.

What was left of the crew watched as the top of the crow’s nest disappeared, the bay groaning and gurgling in its consumption. The ship you and many others once called home had been swallowed into the water’s depths.

A hand gently pressed into your left shoulder, its callouses felt through the singed holes of your shirt—the contact causing you to look at the much shorter man. “I’m sorry, Captain. You did your best.”

The words meant well, but instead of commiserating, they reminded you that this was your failure. When the sensation of your throat tightening and eyes misting began, you shook your head. There would be no grieving until a new home was acquired.

Looking back at the shorter man, face composed and emotions pushed to the side. “Do we know where we’ve landed, Sal? I didn’t have time to look at the map; when I saw the opening, I thought it would be the only chance for our escape.”

Sal’s singular green eye widened before looking around the visible area, knowing he would be the only one of you to see in such darkness. “Not sure, we’ve never been this far north before.”

Not good.

Standing up, you internally shivered as the sensation of wet, sandy, cloth peeled from your damp, chilled skin. The only possessions left were on everyone’s backs, holes and all.

A strike of panic set in at that realization. Taking inventory, a hand reached up to count the baubles that adorned your earnings, relieved to feel all was accounted for. Looking down at the blistered and burned fingers, you grimaced at the thought of how bad the pain would be when removing the various roughly smithed rings. One of the bands looked almost embedded past the first few layers of skin, potentially touching bone.

Sal had followed in checking his personage for anything of value, even lifting his eye patch and ensuring that the smooth, unpolished diamond he kept was still hidden in the empty socket.

“We’re going to be stuck on land until a new home can be procured.” Turning, you saw the group huddled together for warmth, teeth chattering as they shivered.

“From here on out, it’s dry land rules and roles. We’re starting from nothing, so best behaviors until that changes.” At the nods given in response, you turned to your first mate. “We need to start a fire; we don’t need anyone dying of hypothermia-“ Everyone froze at a distinct sound.

Hoof-beats.

The sound rumbled further up into the tree line, accompanied by voices that called out, echoing into the fjord. Lanterns swayed and grew brighter with each moment the owners grew closer.

Head snapping back to the others, you whispered, “Remember the rules. No one speaks until I say so.” A groan caught your attention just before Sal almost lost his balance. “What's wrong? Why-“ Pulling your hand away from the back of his head, you felt the warmth just as you smelt its metallic scent.

Your hand was entirely coated in bright red blood from just that moment of contact; a quick glance back at the sand where he had first laid showed a small puddle where the ground's compression had helped to pause the bleeding, only momentarily. “Why didn't you say anything?” you hissed before trying to apply what little pressure your pain-filled hand could tolerate. A gruff whisper was his only response: “Didn't want to worry you.”

“Idiot” was the only word that could be mustered while ideas sprinted in your mind at what to do next. The lanterns were getting closer, the voices becoming more evident each second. It was a gamble, but it was the only possible choice you could see.

“Someone, help us!” Shouting into the night air, voice raising louder with the following sentence. “Pirates have attacked us!” At first, the crew members' confusion read clearly on their faces, until your stern glare made them realize what was happening. One by one, they began clutching various parts of their bodies, crying out and groaning in pain.

Sal chuckled in your arms, shaking his head before he lost consciousness, his full weight now on you to hold up. Once the owners of the lanterns broke through the bushes, they rushed in to help. But it was clear that there was surprise on both parties’ sides when seeing who the other was.

Elves? Just how far north had you drifted?

Cirdan was genuinely shocked at what he and his townspeople stumbled upon. When first spotting the burning ship, the assumption was that the sailors aboard would be his own kind—not humans. As the others rushed to those rolling in agony on the sand, he quickly made his way to where you were struggling to maintain balance while holding a relatively short man.

Finally, you allowed the tears to flow, teeth chattering as the adrenalin began to wear off and what little warmth you had dissipated. “Please, help us.” The older elf’s heart broke at the sight before him, and within the hour, you and your crew had been taken back to town to be tended to.

By midnight, Sal’s head had been stitched and bandaged. Once asleep, the shorter man's snoring rattled the walls of the boat builders' small home. The other members' wounds had been cleaned before special herbs that none of you recognized were placed over them. With no spare rooms, Cirdan was left to care for the ship’s captain on his dining table.

The first rinse to clean the wounds on your palms had not been too painful. But as the elf used various instruments to take out the bits of splintered wood, broken threads of rope, and shattered glass, you began to think that he was torturing you instead of healing.

At another flinch, Cirdan’s focus shifted to take in your exhausted face. The grimacing expression telling how much you were ready to be done with the tedious task before you both. “Almost done. I am pleased to say you will still have full use of your hands.” He whispered.

As everyone else slept, only a few candles lit the small area needed to see as he worked. In search of distraction from the sensitive and tender discomfort, attention shifted to the papers scattered around the table he had you perched on. The first few were just lists and notes, but something caught your eye.

It was beautiful.

Triple-masted, square-cut sales, the hull was designed in such detail that it felt like, with one good shake, it would drop out of the page into the water.

As you became further engrossed with the drawing, you unknowingly leaned further and further. Cirdan looked up, ready to ask you to sit still again. But when he followed where your attention had gone, he smiled softly before gently guiding your palms back into the position needed. Focusing back on digging out a particularly stubborn glass shard, he egged on your curiosity. “If you enjoy that one, you should see the one you are sitting on.”

When a deep blush of embarrassment spread across your face, he chuckled. “Here, let me help.” With the boat master’s aid to lean to the opposite side now, he pulled free the design to lay the now crinkled paper on the table for easier viewing.

Just like the previous design, this, too, was stunning. Were such ships possible to build? Once back to work on your hands, you took the opportunity to shift your attention from the design to begin admiring the unique features of the elf's home.

Intricate hand-carved details were everywhere. Spiraled door handles, doorway arches with such delicate flowers and vines it was a wonder they didn’t break, and the wall next to the dining table was carved from ceiling to floor, detailing a flock of cranes surrounded by tall standing trees.

“Did you design them?” Attention back to the page that had previously been sat on. An idea began to form in your mind at his nod and smile. “They’re beautiful; building something as grand as those must take a lifetime.”

“They are, though I am not sure if they will ever be brought into existence.��� The tone of his voice tells of the pride in his creations and the enjoyment of such praise.

Allowing your voice to soften, your head tilting, and your lips turning up at the corners as you spoke, “They’re unique. It's so clear in everything you touch that this is what you were meant to do.”

As you continued, the tips of pointed ears peeking out from silver hair tinged in a faint blush. “Every detail thought through so clearly,” Cirdan gulped as he nervously tried to focus on the task before him.

But the poor boat builder struggled even more when you teasingly smiled while praising his work. “Even your door handles and chairs adorn your touches.” Your eyes locked for a moment, just long enough to see the faint tinge of a flustered blush topping the apples of his cheeks. A single fluter of your lashes and you glanced at his lips for a moment before returning to the pages laid out.

“Um, Y-yes. Yes, I feel such joy and fulfillment in what I do and what it means for my people.” He placed the metal instruments down on the woven cloth that held other items, ones that looked sharper and more intimidating the longer you looked. The response was a murmured thank you as he began placing crushed herbs over the now clean wounds. As the gauze was wrapped around each finger delicately, it was Cirdan’s turn to ask a question.

“I am curious about your ship; it saddens me that I did not have a chance to see its beauty.” The fingers he still wrapped tensed in his hands; at looking up, he saw how the color left your face, eyes turned down; it was clear you weren't there with him at that moment. “Oh, I am sorry,” turning, he brought a warm cup of tea to your lips, your hands still unable to hold anything. “In my curiosity, I did not think of your pain and loss.”

The elves' eyes watched subtly as your lips curled and then relaxed to part, observing how your throat swallowed the warm liquid he had provided. Patiently waiting until you had your fill before putting the cup down and turning back to finish bandaging up to your wrists.

Cirdan finished the bandaging with the last wrap around your wrist. In the time it took to stand, gather the instruments, and look between you and his designs on the table, an idea began to form at the front of his mind. “Is it difficult to ascertain a new vessel in your homelands?” His back faced you as he cleaned the blood from the metal objects in the sink.

His shoulders dropped as your voice broke. “My home is very far from here.” For the second time in the night, the boat master felt his heartbreak at such sadness.

That settles it, then. He had to do something. There was only so long and so little room that Grey Haven’s harbor could offer hospitality, not to mention there being no clear path ahead for you. “What I say next, you must know, is not meant to push you out.” He watches the way you curl into yourself, preparing in resignation already.

“My home is small, not suited to provide the proper healing your crew needs. I will send a message to my king-,” Your eyes widen, shaking your head as you tell him no. But he will hear none of it. Raising a hand to stop your protests, the elf continues, “I will write to my king and ask that he finds it in his heart to show compassion, especially to those that deserve it.”

You tell him you don't know how to repay his kindness; he scoffs and drinks the now-cold tea to hide the blush dusting the apple of his cheeks. The rest of the night is spent playing a few games of chess. It would have just been one, but with your hands being as they are, you kept accidentally bumping multiple pieces around. With each game, the conversation turned back to ships, elven ships.

As the darkness of night began to give way to the first glow of dawn on the horizon, Cirdan excused himself to write the letter that would be sent ahead to Lindon’s Capital. At that same time, you went to Sal. Gently, you slinked into the bedroom so as not to wake the rest of the crew before sitting on the edge of the bed that was so graciously granted to your first mate.

“Sal, Sal!” You voiced louder than planned at the shorter man’s deep sleep, which refused to release him. Finally, the rough shake to his shoulder roused him. “Wha-Whats going on?” With a quick hand over his mouth to quiet him down, you pressed a finger to your lips before whispering. “I have just spent the last few hours speaking with our new friend. He has been very kind.”

You couldn't help but chuckle at the responding wiggling eyebrows, his single eye wide in excitement. “How kind?” You leaned in to reply with a whisper, a wicked smile its companion. “Kind enough to ask if his king would help us.” Sal’s jaw dropped in shock before punching your shoulder. “How in the hell did you pull that off?”

Sitting straight, the back of your hand pressed to your forehead, sighing dramatically before speaking, “Who will take pity on little ole me, a female captain with no ship to call home? My poor crew, so ill, that even elven healers struggle to help them.”

Shaking his head while chuckling, Sal crossed his arms while wiggling more comfortably into the bed’s soft feather pillows. “So what’s the plan?”

Your smirk grew at the question.

———————

With the first rays of morning light, a plan in motion, and rules set in place, you met with Cirdan and the escort outside his home, where a hiccup had already appeared.

You nervously approached the giant beast, flinching back when its large nostrils grunted out a rush of breath. “I’ve never ridden a horse before. Can I not just walk behind?” A sympathetic smile graced the boat master’s lips as the other elf mounted their steed. “Walking would take extra days that your crew may not have. If you are unsure of riding alone, ride with the escort; they will ensure your safe arrival.”

Anxiously, you nodded in agreement, unable to see a different path around the logic presented. A few awkward jumps and one petrified yelp later saw you and the expert rider heading up the road to the capital—the poor elf at the mercy of your fearfully white-knuckled grip in their ribs. The pain in your hands be damned.

Lindon’s Palace

My Dear King,

I write to you earnestly, asking that aid be offered to someone deserving of such compassion. A pirate attack has left my new friend without a ship or home, and a crew suffering from ailments beyond my healing capabilities. The ship's Captain will arrive with an escort so that you yourself can make sound judgments of their character.

Gil-Galad re-read the letter. In his years of friendship with the Lord of Grey Haven, only a handful of times had the elder asked for royal assistance, unlike some of the other stewards of his kingdom, who seemed to lack such abstention.

He sighed when sid-eyeing the pile of letters and scrolls stacked high upon the oak desk, still awaiting answers. Fiddling with the paper’s edge, unrolling it further as he sat in thought, a previously unseen line of penmanship caught his attention.

I suggest conversing over a game of chess; you may be pleasantly surprised as I was in their company.

Your Faithful Friend, Cirdan

With a scoff, he flicked the paper back to its place on the desk's clutter. It had been hours, and barely a dent had been made in the mountain of documents that had arrived the day before.

With his kingdom settling into a gentle rhythm after so many years of war, the High King started feeling something unexpected- boredom. Gone were the days of extreme stress, battle planning, and mourning for his people. Now, they were filled with small pleasantries, mastering crafts, and, unfortunately, paperwork.

Leaning back into the hand-carved chair, fingers rubbed along the pulsing ache of his forehead, pain caused by the hours of eyes straining on documents.

A groan left his chest when an unfortunately familiar warmth spread across the top of a kneecap. The morning’s rays had started to inch into his room, their gentle cares on his vestige announcing that another sleepless night had passed.

Muscles ached and throbbed as he stood to stretch before walking to the window to watch the sunrise. His attention to the sunrise over the horizon was shifted down from his room in the tower at the arrival of a horse carrying two persons.

One was an elf, and the other a human woman. It was hard not to chuckle while watching as her arms shakily reached out to the escort to assist in the dismount from their horse, legs wobbling once on solid ground. As the escort walked off with the creature to announce their arrival, she stayed in place, observing the entry area's flora and white-barked trees.

It was rare to see a human in his kingdom. Even in memory, it was a struggle to gleam the last one and when they came. It was not surprising, as curiosity peaked about the mortal creature that had appeared at random.

That is what he told himself, at least, as his eyes fixated on the wild wind-swept hair that glowed from the crepuscular rays of morning. And repeated internally again, when observing the silhouette outlined from the sheer fabrics she wore when bending to smell a vine of jasmine.

The voice was not repeated a third time when his eyes honed in on the gentle slopes of her bust; nipples pebbled hard by the cold morning's dew. Each movement allowed more and more to be revealed by the fabric's owner. The tall elf’s heart rate panicked at admiring rounded hips that harmonized with the tops of plush, strong thighs and a waist--

When a knock raps at the bedroom door, he jumps, placing a wide palm to his chest, letting out a breath he was unaware was being held. With a final glance back at the woman, he shakes his head and asks the attendant to come in.

“High King, a visitor has arrived from Grey Haven to speak with you. Master Cirdan has sent them.” Gil-Galad froze, and his heart rate, still yet to calm down from moments ago, increased.

A quick glance to the desk where Cirdan’s note sat, as its words read out in his mind. Certainly, she was not the captain he spoke of. What in the world was that blasted boatmaker thinking? The shorter elf’s expression made Gil-Galad realize he took longer than usual to respond.

“I will be there in but a moment. Please see that our guest is attended to until then.” Gil-Galad’s eyebrow quirked as his attendant paused awkwardly, a tilt of his head letting the shorter elf know to speak. “Sire, your meeting with the human may need to wait a few days so that-“ Gil-Galad held up his hand as the memory of sheer fabric flashed away just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Master Cirdan has informed me that the aid needed for the human stands on the direness of time. I will meet with them first during my morning meal; that should allow a better inclusion of my schedule.”

With a swift nod, the shorter elf leaves to inform the morning staff of the changes. In the reflection across from where he stood, exhausted eyes and a stern expression looked back. In a singular sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Just when it seems a moment to himself has appeared, the morning maids come in to prepare a bath and lay out the royal robes.

In toe behind them, the royal retainer began listing the days itinerary, explaining how every minute of the hours were filled with meetings, agreements, and document signatures. With a singular sigh and torpid blink, he turns to take the prepared bath and begrudgingly get the day started.

When an attendant had come to gather you and usher the way to an empty grand dining room to wait, it felt like a small gift.

Palpations had been occurring every few minutes since the moment your feet touched the ground after riding for hours. Hopefully, this would give time to help calm them. Chalking the rapid heart rate up to nerves and still feeling so tired, you reminded yourself that rest, food, and sleep would come eventually. But the plan took precedence over everything, no matter the cost.

The first few minutes were spent sitting at the opposite end of the room’s expansive stone table, until those nerves raised back up—skin itching, and not just on the slowly scabbing wounds of your hands. Legs crossed only to un-cross and then cross again. The liquid in the glass of wine on the table rippled from how hard your knee bounced. When all this did nothing to aid in the growing feeling of unease, you resorted to pacing back and forth, back and forth, until the feeling of dizziness came on.

At the sound of your stomach echoing into the quiet room, you side-eyed the table. The temptation was hard to resist at the site of the varying fruits, cheeses, bread, and dishes for breakfast. While subtle, the aromas still had made their way to your nose.

With a head shake, you continued pacing; by now, you were sure that a grove had been worked into the floor. Glancing back to the chair at the opposite end of the table, a small tremor corded its way from where the palpations started to both of your poor, still wobbling legs. One misstep, one accidental insult, and the plan would be over before it could be put into motion.

With a deep breath, you hoped to calm your heart’s racing; nervousness would not be an ally. Another breath, followed by many more in succession. Still, the beating thrummed with such intensity it felt as if the betraying organ was in your throat, determined to expel itself and do a jig at your feet to taunt you.

Distraction.

Distraction would help, you hoped. Turning around, you desperately tried to focus now on the grandiose tapestry that hung twenty feet in the air. Its textured masterpiece taking so much space that the raw threadbare edges touched the flooring and side walls.

Red, look for something red. Rose bushes came into clarity on the lower section. A breath, this one a little easier- but still, your chest held tight. Animals, find the animals. Swans were flying in the open sky of the fibers- was that a unicorn?

Each detail of the textile artwork helped to distract from the sensation that rattled against your ribs. In a further attempt to add comfort, you wrapped your arms around yourself, desperately hoping to soothe the nerves that struggled to dissipate.

____

Even after the warmth of a bath and fresh clothes, Gil-Galad found his heart rate had yet to slow since looking out the window. Surely it was just another sleepless night of work that made it hard to calm such a tempestuous beating? Obviously, this peculiar feeling was not brought on by how his mind's eye sought to wave the memory of curves, backlit in a warm glow—always right when mental clarity was needed.

When reaching the dining hall, Gil-Galad held up a hand to let his attendant know he would be entering the room alone, unannounced. Cirdan had made it clear that he should make a sound and solid judgment of the Captain's character before making any decisions in the offer of aid. A wisdom he would heed. Speaking would also be better without extra eyes watching. However, it would have been better if his mind had been allowed to think of questions to ask before this moment.

Quietly, the private royal entrance opened, its door only opening for him and him alone. Stone that once lay flat and blended into the wall shifted back, then slid just enough for his size to squeeze into the room—unnoticed. The internal expectation from past interactions with mortals was that his guest would be gorging themselves on the food laid before them. But once inside, surprise met that expectation. The only other chair besides his sat empty, the dishes untouched.

There, at the other end of the room, unaware of his presence, you stood. Elven ears picked up the sounds of deep breathing, eyes watching as your heavily bandaged hands rubbed your arms while swaying gently from side to side. Gil-Galad’s eyes trailed once more to the clothes draped on your figure. Cirdan had dressed you in something so sheer?

Perhaps the boat builder had not realized that the gift offered to you had been- No. Cirdan was too bright and observant to have missed something like this. That old perverted- at the memory of this morning, the realization he had no hill to stand on and judge hit him.

Yet, he could not look away. The tension came back to his chest, and just as it began to crawl its way down, inch by inch, to an area of his body that he refused to acknowledge, panic set in and forced the moment to break.

“You have yet to eat.”

With a yelp of shock, you nearly jumped out of your skin. Turning with wide eyes and a hand to your poor, overworked, thumping heart. Finding the voice’s owner standing at the opposite end of the room.

When first trying to picture what an elven king might have looked like, your imagination pulled from what was known of your own kind. Rulers that were repugnant, rotund, and gangrenous from a life of riches and idleness.

What you did not anticipate was to be greeted with the amused expression of a very tall elf, whose attractiveness you pretended not to feel any way about. It took a moment for the shock to pass before finding yourself. “N-no.” A breath. “No, I felt it would be rude to eat before my host arrived.”

It was as if time had frozen for a moment, two statues unmoving as they visually memorized what was in front of them. Sheer fabric clashed with the opulent, almost excessive layers of gold on the opposite side. Warm brown eyes, unblinking in their seriousness, scrutinized the shocked hesitancy in your own.

When you both tried to speak simultaneously, a polite smile graced his lips as he motioned for you to go first. A thanks would be the best choice, grateful that such a renowned, elven king would spare an hour to hear a poor human captain’s woes. Pleasantries to be embellished so prettily in their bestowment.

Sadly, that option would be ruined by a comically loud growl from your stomach, no doubt retaliation at being teased for so long by such appetizing smells. Gil-Galad watched as your eyes shut laggardly before opening again, now refusing to meet his own from embarrassment.

He gave you a gift of mercy in finding the strength to choke back a laugh. “It would appear that, as a host, I have been discourteous to test the patience of such a considerate guest.” Motioning for you to sit, he continued, “Please, eat. I would ask if you are hungry, but I believe that answer has already been given.”

Unlike the High King, you did not find the strength to choke back a laugh from the jest. When your eyes met again, an expression of mirth greeted the faint blush of your cheeks. Gods have mercy; this was going to be a challenge. The elf barely said two sentences, and already, you were struggling.

Gil-Galad gulped as you pulled up your chair to sit more comfortably; he could not understand the reasons for his nerves. His gaze trailed once more to the unexpected guest across the table, unknowingly unaware of the detail being taken in of your personage.

In the earnings that dangled down to the tops of your collar bones, polished beads of sea glass glowed, backlit by the candles behind you. Indigo-dyed whalebone and sea urchin spines brandished with petrified beads of amber hung on uneven lengths of fishing wire.

Rough and raw cut jewels adorned roughly smithed mental bands, assorted in the widths of rings that hung from your neck while your fingers healed. He would admit that such ornaments are much more maximal and eclectic than is commonly seen of his own kind.

His heart rate, which had just calmed, began racing again as he watched your lips part, tongue welcoming a bite of food. His vision tunneled to take in greater detail when your brows knit together in pleasure as the flavors danced across your palate.

Blinking, he pulled himself out of the hyper-focus when reaching forward to grip the golden handle of a wine glass. Trying to calm the returning tension he had felt when watching you from when he first entered the room. This was going to be a problem.

Light filtered off your fork, hand tremoring in hunger as the choices become overwhelming. It felt as if the room was getting darker and hazy around its edges. Cirdan had offered food when playing chess, but between the pain in your hands and the nausea from still coming down from the adrenalin of survival, any thought of eating was quickly turned down.

On top of that, the ship had floated for two days into the fjord without a bite of food or water. To say you were starving was an understatement. It took every ounce of self-control not to gorge like a wild animal after the first bite into a roasted pear with salted honey, its juices bursting in your mouth.

“Lord Cirdan wrote that your ship and crew were attacked by pirates and are in further need of aid.” The question caught you off guard, cheeks chipmunk-ed out at trying to fit as many roasted butter beans into your mouth as physically possible. Peeking up, it was obvious the elf knew exactly what he had done from the smirk that pulled from the edges of his lips.

As desperate as you were to swallow your way out of this, chewing was the only option. Could you simply spit out the beans? Yes, but that would only cause further humiliation for him to watch the act. Quickly grabbing the napkin laid under the other silverware, you covered your lips and cheeks as you chewed quickly, jaw clicking from the strain.

When finally able to get the last bit down to respond, another question was put forth. “What exactly happened to your ship, the- what was its name?”

Cirdan had been correct in knowing his king would hold no punches in the judgment of your character. Gil-Galad knew that his questioning was starting to get under your skin. And what better way to begin seeing someone for who they are than by seeing how they handle their frustration?

As the minutes passed and no response was given, his eyebrow raised expectantly. Were you trying to formulate a lie? At the tilt of his head, his eyes hardened. “Are you alright?”

You chuckled hollowly, feeling a spark of enjoyment in watching Gil-Galad’s expression change to irritation as you spoke. Two could play at that game. “Only waiting to see if there are other questions, Your Majesty. I do not wish to offend such a curious mind by interrupting its thoughts.”

Gil-Galad knew that if he were here, Elrond would snort out his wine. It appears that the High King would also be judged on how his temper would be handled. Raising his palm, he gave the motion to speak.

With a deep sigh, you tried to calm the frustration that had been brought forth. “My crew and I were set upon by pirates three days ago; their cannons tore holes into the hull of my ship. By some miracle, we escaped from being boarded, but in our escape, I had steered us into a waterway that none of us recognized.”

When no interruption came, you continued. “Lord Cirdan had seen my ship just as it began taking on more water than we could bucket out.” It was unnerving being watched so intensely, warm eyes unblinking in their judgment of every word uttered into the air. “He was kind enough to offer aid. But he realized we have no way of getting home, at least not any way that would not take years on foot.”

Still not a blink from the scrutinizing gaze, you gulped to wet your now cotton-dry throat as sweat dripped down your neck. “Asking for help is not something I have any practice in. But for the people that depend on me, I will do anything in my capabilities to see that they survive.”

Silence stretched between you both. Gil-Galad contemplated your tale, sight now set on the wine glass before him. When speaking of your crew and their care, he could sense no lies, but why was his gut tightening, waiting, and expecting? It felt as if something was missing. Perhaps speaking of such a harrowing escape was not something you wished to delve into further detail.

Or -gods forgive him- the tightening that was felt had nothing to do with your words, and more to do with the internal befuddlement trying to be ignored since your arrival.

You watched as golden fibers wrapped around the barrel waist in front of you strained against expanding ribs. A deep, belly-filled breath was exhaled slowly and quietly in contemplation. As his lips parted to speak, the dining room’s doors opened. The shorter elf that first guided you in giving a small bow.

“High King, I apologize for the interruption, but the lords are gathered and waiting for you.” Whatever tension that had been building was broken instantly. Fresh air from the outside corridor wafted in, and both of you took the opportunity to breathe.

The sound of chair legs scraped against the floor as he stood, an air of equanimity held in his stance as he stared down at where you still sat, slouched back into your seat. “Please forgive my sudden departure. I would like to continue this discussion later this evening if you are amenable to the offer.” He continued at the single nod you gave while walking over to his attendant.

“Please see that our guest is given a room and fed.” At the bow of the shorter elf, the two of them slowly walked out into the hall, leaving you to watch as the door closed behind them. Once Gil-Galad was certain that you could not hear, he leaned down to whisper one last order. “And see to it that she has…warmer attire prepared. I would not wish for our guest to take a chill from the temperature tonight.” At the hesitant bow given before the shorter elf left, Gil-Galad realized he was not the only one struggling whenever what you were wearing was seen.

Once alone, he sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose. It had only been a singular hour of the morning, and already, it was obvious that the day would be as long as it was stressful.

I have this idea that Gil-Galad is never truly content. War? -Hate it. Calm and tranquil? - Bored out of his mind. So when this Captain comes around he both loves and hates how hes feeling. I'm working on outlining the next chapter but it may take a bit before its edited and posted. So please be patient. Love you all and hope you enjoy and are surviging my friends!

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[quack-quack-snacks]

Time Will Tell - Chapter 1.26

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The Time Will Tell Glossary

Warnings: N/A really Word Count: 1,318

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The reaction was instant when you heard the crash. Everyone in the room with you from your place in the lobby ran up to the blocked front entrance to the building to sneak a peek through the gate.

A clanging noise is what brought your attention away from the wall you were glaring at as if you could see through it to where Jin-ok had walked in with a handful of pipes and other makeshift weapons. “Take these. We have to protect this place,” she told the three men all huddled up against the gate. You felt two pairs of small hands grip onto your clothes and didn’t even need to look down to see it was your two younger siblings. You wrapped your arms around them just as Jin-ok approached you and handed you your axe. “Take them somewhere safe and stay there. Protect them.”

You knew what she wasn’t saying because it’s what you were thinking as well. 

‘At all costs.’

So you grabbed Yeong-su’s hand while he grabbed Su-yeong’s and you tugged them over to the safest place you could think of.

It was only after an hour or so had passed, when the sun was starting to fade over the horizon and all the growls and howls and bangs had stopped, that you were found by Eun-yu when she came looking for you. After that, you immediately went off in search of Hyun-su only to find him sleeping against a filing cabinet in a secluded room. 

You watched as his chest rose and fell a few times just to give yourself some peace of mind before ultimately deciding to leave him alone for the night and get some sleep yourself after a quick shower.

You didn’t sleep for very long when Eun-yu somewhat drunkenly woke you up. 

“It’s story time! Don’t be a bum, come and hang out with us!” She whined and you laughed, reluctantly agreeing and listening to Gil-seop tell his scary story. You didn’t want to be rude to him or Eun-yu, but you were falling asleep more and more with each word. 

BANG!

The door to the daycare slammed open and you jolted awake with a yelp. Everyone had a similar reaction as they saw the unknown new man walk in and dash straight for the drained jar of Korean wine. He greedily ate scoop after scoop of the marinated berries at the bottom. Yi-kyung walked up behind him like a mother following her wandering child and sighed. 

“Who are you?” Mr. An demanded while holding up a metal pipe. 

“I think he’s a runaway soldier,” Yi-kyung explained her theory. 

The soldier pushed the jar away from him when he saw the mess it made on his hands and started mumbling incoherently before falling to his side and passing out. 

Everything seemed to blur as they took him into another room and everyone settled in for bed until you found yourself aimlessly wandering the dimly lit halls with a candle. Your side still hurt so it was more of just stumbling around while using the wall to help you, but you’d be damned if you woke someone up to help you have a midnight stroll. 

You’d be damned if the perfect person you could ask wasn’t sitting on the staircase you were walking straight towards. 

Hyun-su looked to be lost in his thoughts while staring at his wrist before you announced your presence with a small, “Hey.”

He looked up and his eyes widened at the sight of you. You stumbled over, using the rail of the stairs to help you as you ascended and sat a level above him, placing the candle you held between the two of you. “Hey,” he replied, a little too late for the conversation but you decided to ignore it in hopes of not embarrassing him. 

“You shouldn’t be alone without a buddy, you know,” you teased. “I’m walking around without a buddy because both my official and unofficial buddies are passed out, drunk, in the daycare.”

“Are you scared?” He asked you after a beat. 

You sighed, thinking about your answer before saying it. “I don’t think so. Not for myself, anyway. I’m more scared about what will happen to Yeong-su and Su-yeong, to be honest,” you shot him a non-committal smile. “Hopefully, when this is all over, they can go back to living a semi-normal life.”

“Do you… think there will be a time after this?” He questioned rather pessimistically with his head down. 

The silence went on for a while until you decided to break it with an attempt to lighten the mood. 

“Hey, give me your phone.”

“Huh? What? Why?” He asked in return and you flashed him a cheeky smile. 

“Just do it. Just for a minute,” you insisted. He reached into his pocket and placed the unlocked phone in your extended hand. “Thank you,” you expressed as you searched around before settling on the Contacts app. “How about after all this…” You spoke as you typed, sounding a little distracted before finishing. “You give me a call and we can meet up, yeah?” You handed the phone back to him with a shy grin. 

He took it back, staring at you for a moment before he glanced down at the cracked screen. There, he saw your name with a heart emoji written into his contacts. He was stunned, just staring at the phone until you gasped, remembering something and snatching the phone back out of his hands. 

“Oh! I forgot to put a picture in! Hold on,” you insisted as you opened up the camera and held it up, fixing your hair and wiping a stray drop of blood from your cheek. Then, you scooted closer to Hyun-su, who had been stating his thoughts at you in bewilderment and awe and held the phone up to take a picture. “Say cheeseeee!” You took the photo, smiling brightly at the phone, but when you looked at it your smile turned into a frown. “Hyun-su! You weren’t even looking at the camera!” You complained, turning to look at him and finding him already looking at you. 

He sneaked a glance at the photo and couldn’t help the stuttering of his heart when he saw it. You looked just absolutely gorgeous with your smile. Sure, he wasn’t looking at the camera - instead looking at you with the smallest hint of a smile on his lips - but it was 100% worth it for that joyful look on your face in the photo and the adorable pout you sported as you looked at him in real life. “It’s perfect.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his soft tone and tried to huff it away as you started making it your contact photo. “I wish you would’ve looked at the camera though.”

He couldn’t help the warm feeling that grew in his chest, and he honestly didn’t really want to. When you handed the phone back to him, he spent a long moment just staring at the screen, admiring the way your smile was brighter than the phone itself. 

He only broke out of his trance when your pinkie suddenly interlocked with his. “What are you doing?”

Your lips shaped a shy smile and the sight tugged at his heartstrings. “You’re making a promise to me. Promise me you’ll call me when this has all cleared. Please.”

He couldn’t deny you when you sounded like that, so he minisculely tightened his grip around your pinkie. “I promise.”

He said it so softly you thought you would have fainted on the spot if his touch wasn’t grounding you. With your shy smile growing even shier, you pressed your thumbs together with a soft giggle and a whisper, “Promise.”

Neither of you truly knew what the feelings growing inside you between each other were, but neither of you wanted it to go away anytime soon.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Breaking Rules | Cloud Strife x Reader

Part One

Next Chapter →

Summary: Cloud Strife doesn't usually pay for sex, but then he meets you.

Words: ~9,500

Tags: Explicit Smut, Angst, Cloud Strife is Bad At Feelings, Strangers to Lovers, Slow Burn, Reader Insert, Female Reader, Plus/Midsize Reader, No Y/N

Cloud wasn’t new to this.

Women noticed him; they always did. His cold exterior, the quiet confidence, the strong shoulders—it all drew attention, even when he wasn’t looking for it. Tonight was no different. He could feel the weight of eyes on him from across the room, the subtle shifts of interest, and the flirtatious smiles that seemed to follow him everywhere. Normally, it wouldn’t take long to find someone to take home. It never did. But tonight… tonight was different.

He lifted his glass, taking a slow sip, the liquor burning a familiar path down his throat. His eyes flicked toward the two women seated a few stools down, their hushed whispers and quick glances anything but subtle. One leaned closer to her friend, saying something that made them both smile before casting another appraising look in his direction. Her lips curved into a confident smile, one that lingered, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air.

For a moment, Cloud considered it. He could walk over, say a few words, let the routine unfold as it always did. It would be easy—effortless, even. But as his gaze lingered briefly on them, disinterest pulled him back.

In fact, nothing and no one in the bar seemed to catch his attention. No matter how many glances were thrown his way or how many smiles tried to pull him in, Cloud felt… uninterested.

Cloud sighed and tossed back the rest of his drink before setting his glass down on the counter. Maybe he was in a mood. Maybe the mission had messed with his head more than he thought. Either way, he was done here. He stood up and tossed some gil on the counter, not bothering to look back.

The air outside was heavy and humid, a thick blanket of smog and sweat hanging over Wall Market. Cloud walked a few steps from the bar, a dive called The Rusty Chocobo, a popular haunt for mercs, traders, and anyone looking to drown their worries in cheap liquor and dim lighting.

Cloud rolled his his shoulders, trying to shake off the lingering frustration he couldn’t quite name. He should’ve been able to find someone inside. That was what he came for, after all, a woman to distract himself with. But instead, here he was, alone, feeling more restless than he did before.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his boots splashing through a puddle as he turned down the street. The usual crowd of women lingered near the corner, dressed in clothes that were meant to draw attention—short skirts, tight tops, bold makeup. They leaned against the light posts or stood in small groups, their eyes catching on anyone who passed by, offering fleeting smiles or suggestive glances.

They called out to passersby with sultry promises and whispered propositions, their voices honeyed with practiced allure. He didn’t fault them for their work; everyone did what they had to in order to survive, especially down here. But Cloud had never been tempted.

Cloud Strife didn’t pay for sex. There was no the point in it, not when he had seemingly endless other options. And more than that, it went against something… fundamental in him. The idea of exchanging money for something so intimate, so personal—it didn’t sit right.

So when a woman lounging in the shadows of an alley called out to him, her voice low and suggestive, Cloud didn’t even break stride. He kept walking, his boots scuffing against the uneven pavement, his mind preoccupied with the mission that had brought him to this part of town in the first place.

But then he saw her.

At first, she was just a silhouette, a figure leaning casually against the wall of a boarded-up shop, partially cloaked in shadow. But as Cloud drew closer, the weak flicker of a nearby streetlamp revealed more—a cascade of hair tumbling over her shoulders, delicate facial features and a steady gaze. She didn’t angle for attention like the others, no coy smiles or practiced gestures to lure someone in. She simply existed in the space, quiet and unobtrusive, yet inexplicably magnetic, as though the shadows themselves had shaped her, making her a seamless part of the night.

Cloud didn’t know why he was moving toward her. Sure, she was hot. Hotter than anyone he’d seen in recent memory, honestly. But that wasn’t enough to explain the pull he felt, the strange compulsion that kept his feet moving in her direction even as a small voice in the back of his mind told him to turn around.

Her eyes, sharp and steady, took him in without a hint of surprise or hesitation. There was no coyness in her expression, no attempt to charm him with a smile or a flutter of lashes. She simply regarded him.

“You looking for something?”

Cloud didn’t answer right away. His gaze flicked over her, unbidden, lingering on the way her dress clung to her body like a second skin, accommodating her wide hips and thick thighs, accentuating their fullness with unapologetic boldness before narrowing sharply at her waist. The neckline dipped low across her chest, teasing just enough cleavage to hold his eye without crossing the line into overt display.

“How much?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended, the words scraping awkwardly out of his throat.

“That depends,” she said, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. The motion only drew more attention to her figure, but she didn’t seem to care. “What do you want?”

It wasn’t the response he’d expected. She was taking her time, watching him, as though she were the one sizing him up, not the other way around.

Cloud shifted slightly, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease. “Sex,” he said, bluntly, his tone flat as though stating it plainly would make this entire interaction easier.

Her smirk softened into something more unreadable—calm, steady, almost like understanding. “Sure,” she said, her voice carrying no hint of hesitation. She tilted her head slightly, giving him a once-over that felt more analytical than seductive.

Cloud’s hand twitched at his side, caught in the indecision that was quickly tying knots in his gut. Part of him wanted to walk away, to leave this moment behind and pretend it had never happened. The other part—the part that had propelled him toward her in the first place—kept him rooted to the spot, his mind racing even as his expression remained stony.

She didn’t rush him. She didn’t bat her lashes or try to fill the silence with coaxing words. She just stood there, calm and steady, watching him as though she had all the time in the world—like she knew he’d make up his mind eventually and didn’t particularly care which way he leaned.

Cloud exhaled slowly, forcing himself to push past the tightness in his chest. “Fine,” he muttered, the word falling from his lips more as an admission than a decision. His gloved fingers slipped into his pocket, retrieving the cash. He extended them toward her, his hand steady even as something twisted uncomfortably in his chest.

She accepted the gil without hesitation then nodded, her voice as cool and detached as it had been all along. “Lead the way."

For a moment, Cloud hesitated, but then his boots scraped lightly against the pavement as he turned, the motion stiff, almost mechanical as he started walking, his steps purposeful but his mind a blur.

He could feel her eyes on his back, steady and unwavering, accompanied by the rhythmic click of her heels against the pavement.

When they reached his door to his apartment, Cloud fished the key out of his pocket and pushed it into the lock. The door groaned slightly as he opened it, stepping inside first before pausing to hold it open for her. She moved past him without hesitation, her dark hair catching the faint glow of the hallway light before she stepped fully into the dim space.

The room was simple—sparse furniture, bare walls, and little else. No decoration, no personal touches. It was functional, nothing more. But if she cared, she gave no indication. There was no flicker of surprise in her expression, no awkward pause as she took in her surroundings. Instead, she carried herself with the same calm confidence she’d had from the moment he first saw her. It was like she’d done this a thousand times before—and maybe she had.

“Nice place,” she said after a moment, her voice even and detached, like a polite observation rather than a genuine compliment, the kind of thing people said out of habit rather than meaning.

Cloud shrugged, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. The familiar stillness of his apartment enveloped them, but for the first time, it felt suffocating, almost oppressive. He walked past her, his movements measured, tugging off his gloves and setting them on the small table beside the sofa. His sword, always a looming presence, found its place leaning in the corner.

Her eyes tracked his movements, calm and appraising, like she was cataloging each small detail. When he finally turned back to her, she tilted her head slightly.

“Silent type, huh?” she asked, her tone light but probing. Her gaze swept over him, lingering briefly on the lines of his shoulders before meeting his eyes again. “That’s fine. I’m not much of a talker either.” Her lips twitched into a smirk, her voice dipping lower, softer. “At least, not when it comes to this.”

Cloud didn’t respond, his lips pressing into a thin line. Words felt too heavy, too complicated, and he wasn’t sure he trusted himself to say the right thing—not when her voice, her presence, was unraveling something inside him he hadn’t even realized was there.

Whatever it was she’d unearthed in him, Cloud couldn’t seem to tamp it back down. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this drawn to someone, let alone acted on it. The realization unsettled him, but not enough to stop him. Not enough to keep him from taking a step forward.

He reached for her, brushing lightly against her bare arms, her skin warm under his fingertips before he slid down slowly, finding her waist and settling there. Her body shifted subtly under his touch, leaning into it just enough to let him know she wasn’t going to pull away.

He needed to focus on the physical, on the mechanics of this—the way her curves fit against his hands, the subtle rise and fall of her breathing. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? Bringing her here, to this quiet, bare space where he could lose himself in the motion, in the heat of it. No strings, no thoughts, no feelings. Just sex.

That was the whole idea.

But as he stood there, her steady gaze holding his, that usual feeling of detachment refused to take him. And for the first time in longer than he could remember, Cloud felt completely untethered.

He couldn’t explain it. He’d always been the one in control in these moments—he dictated the terms, made sure things stayed simple and impersonal, but with her, the roles felt reversed. He might have been the one paying for her company, but it didn’t feel like he was in charge.

She tilted her head slightly, the movement graceful. “Bedroom?” she asked, her voice low but even, devoid of any edge or inflection. It was the kind of tone someone might use to ask for directions or the time.

Cloud nodded stiffly, the muscles in his shoulders tightening, coiling like springs that refused to release. “This way,” he said, his voice rougher than intended, the two words scraping their way out of his throat as he jerked his head toward the back of the apartment.

He turned and started walking, not bothering to glance back and see if she followed—he didn’t need to. He could hear the quiet click of her heels behind him, steady and unhurried.

His room was as bare and utilitarian as the rest of the space—just a bed, a dresser, and a lamp on the nightstand that cast a faint, yellow glow.

She gave it a quick, uninterested glance. “Let me guess,” she said dryly. “Interior design by 'I don’t give a damn?'”

Cloud shrugged. “Something like that.”

She gave a soft, sardonic chuckle as she walked toward the bed, her eyes flicking over the pillows and sheets. “Well, at least you’re consistent.”

Normally, for Cloud, this was where things got particularly easy. The bedroom was where routine took over, where the mechanics of sex replaced the need for thought or conversation. But this time, it felt different, like he was walking a tightrope stretched over uncertain terrain, each step weighted with something he couldn’t quite name.

His eyes flicked to her mouth.

A quiet but insistent part of him wanted to close the distance between them, to act on the impulse that stirred in his chest. It was reckless, something he never allowed himself to indulge in, and was completely irresponsible. Cloud clenched his jaw, forcing his gaze elsewhere, shoving the thought aside with a sharp breath.

He needed control. And control meant boundaries.

"I don’t kiss on the mouth," Cloud said abruptly, his voice low and rough, the words falling between them like a barricade.

She didn’t flinch or falter, didn’t react with the surprise or disappointment he might’ve expected. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, studying him with the same neutral expression that had intrigued him from the start.

“No problem,” she said, her voice steady, carrying a note of dry humor. “Me neither.”

Cloud blinked, caught off guard by her easy reply. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting—maybe a protest, or some kind of coy remark to test his resolve. But she didn’t. She wasn’t rattled. She didn’t challenge him. She simply matched his energy, her detachment mirroring his own.

Why did her simple agreement feel like a challenge? Why did it feel like she’d just leveled the playing field?

But Cloud didn’t say any of that aloud—didn’t ask the questions circling in his mind or address the way her calm composure seemed to cut through him. Instead, he just nodded, sharp and terse, and then, without giving himself another moment to hesitate, he stepped toward her.

The space between them evaporated, and Cloud swallowed hard. This was it. He just needed to follow through. A body in motion stays in motion, right? Once he started, once he let the physical take over, all these odd, intrusive thoughts and feelings would burn away in the heat of it.

He reached for her hand. Her fingers were warm and soft against his calloused palms as he guided her to the hem of his shirt.

“Here,” he muttered.

Her brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t question him. She gripped the fabric and tugged upwards. The shirt slid over the hard lines of his torso, brushing against his skin as it went. She tossed the shirt aside without ceremony, the soft sound of it landing on the floor barely registering over the rush of blood in his ears.

Her gaze flicked over him once, a brief sweep that felt more clinical than curious. She wasn’t ogling him, wasn’t admiring him like others might have. Instead, it was almost as though she were checking him over, confirming something.

Before Cloud could think too hard about what that meant, or how he felt about it, he pressed closer, his hands finding her waist. The fabric of her dress was smooth beneath his fingers, her body warm and grounding in a way that only made his pulse hammer harder. He didn’t look at her face, couldn’t bring himself to meet those steady, unflinching eyes again. Instead, he focused on movement—his hands sliding along her sides and the heat of her skin bleeding through the thin material.

“Turn around,” he murmured, the words more of a command than a request.

She obeyed, turning smoothly under his hands without hesitation. With her back now to him, Cloud’s gaze was drawn to the dip at the back of her dress and the curve of her spine.

He worked the zipper loose, the faint sound of it sliding down breaking the silence between them. The fabric gave way slowly, revealing inch after inch of smooth skin. Cloud swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, as the material pooled at her waist.

His eyes lingered on her shoulders, on the delicate curve where they sloped into her arms, and the subtle hollow beneath her shoulder blades. Below that, where her ribs tapered into her waist, he noticed the subtle creases of flesh, the way her body folded naturally at the curve.

She looked nothing like the women he’d been with before.

Their beauty had been sharp, lean, precise, and deliberately wielded, like a weapon designed to attract and disarm. But she was something entirely different.

She looked like she belonged in one of those old Renaissance paintings—the kind he’d glimpsed in museums or art books he didn't have the patience to read, the ones of women draped in loose silks, their bodies soft and full, immortalized in strokes of paint on canvas. It was the kind of beauty that felt timeless, enduring, everlasting.

And now, standing here, looking at her, Cloud felt like he was seeing something just as profound. Something he couldn’t turn away from, even if he tried.

He didn’t understand it—didn’t understand how she’d unraveled him so thoroughly, how she’d stripped away the detachment he clung to with just her unwavering gaze and the feel of her beneath his hands. But he couldn’t fight it, couldn’t stop the way his body leaned into hers, drawn by something deeper than want.

His hands moved again, sliding to where the fabric of her dress clung stubbornly to the curve of her hips. His fingers brushed against her skin as he eased the material downward. It resisted for just a moment, caught against the fullness of her frame, before giving way with a quiet sigh, pooling around her feet in a crumpled heap.

He stepped back half a pace, his hands falling to his sides as his gaze dropped to take in the sight before him.

The ripped tights clung to her legs, the jagged holes revealing teasing glimpses of smooth, creamy skin beneath. The fabric stretched taut over her thighs, accentuating their with a kind of quiet audacity. Cloud’s gaze lingered, unbidden, tracing the curve of her ass. A black lace thong sat snugly against her skin, emphasizing the roundness of her hips and the tapering lines of her waist.

Cloud’s breath hitched. He hadn’t even really touched her yet, and already he felt like he was losing himself.

She turned her head slightly, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Something wrong?” she asked softly, her tone carrying just the faintest hint of curiosity.

Cloud exhaled shakily, his breath uneven as he tried to steady himself. His hands twitched at his sides before balling into fists, the tension in his body coiling tighter with every passing second. “No,” he lied, his voice quiet, almost as if trying to convince himself. “Turn back around,” he instructed, the words scraping out like they’d been dragged from deep within him.

Her head tilted slightly, almost like she was considering his request, before she acquiesced, pivoting to face him fully.

Cloud's gaze dragged over her, slow and unrelenting, taking in every detail with a reverence that startled him.

Her breasts were perfectly shaped and sized, the kind that would fit just right in the palm of his hand. Her pink nipples, taut from the cool air, stood out against her creamy skin, drawing his gaze and holding it for a moment longer than he intended before his eyes drifted downward, tracing the gentle slope of her torso. The dip of her waist flowed into the soft curve of her belly, which rested just above the lace of her thong. Each breath she took made it rise and fall subtly, the movement so natural and unguarded it felt like he was intruding by watching. The faint shimmer of silvery stretch marks caught his attention along her lower stomach and the flare of her hips.

Cloud swallowed hard, his throat dry as his eyes traveled back up, retracing the path they’d just taken as if trying to commit every detail to memory.

Then the distance between them dissolved as she moved, her hands settling lightly on his shoulders. Her touch was confident, her movements deliberate as she began guiding him backward. Cloud resisted instinctively, his muscles tensing beneath her fingers, a quiet warning to himself to stay in control. But her quiet strength—smooth, practiced—left little room for protest.

He let her push him gently toward the bed, his knees brushing the edge before he finally gave in and sat down. His body obeyed her unspoken command, but his mind raced, tangled in a web of emotions he didn’t know how to untangle.

She stood between his knees, her hands still resting on his shoulders, grounding him in place. Her eyes met his, calm and unflinching, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Relax,” she murmured.

Cloud’s jaw tightened as he tried to obey, but the tension in his body refused to dissipate. His hands rested awkwardly at his sides, his breathing uneven as he looked up at her, caught between the undeniable pull of arousal and something darker—something that churned low in his chest.

Moving with fluid precision, she dropped gracefully to her knees in front of him, her hands sliding down his arms before trailing back up to his chest. Her touch was deliberate and measured in a way that could only come from experience. Too much experience.

The realization struck Cloud like a blow. She’d done this before—many times, enough to move with such unshaken certainty. Her touch wasn’t just sensual; it was practiced. And that practice came from other men, other moments just like this. The thought clawed at him, unwelcome and irrational, a flicker of jealousy he had no right to feel.

Her lips brushed against the side of his neck, her breath warm against his skin, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. Cloud exhaled shakily, tilting his head slightly to grant her better access even as his mind warred with itself. It wasn’t fair—this jealousy, this knot of something bitter tightening in his chest—but it was there, refusing to be ignored.

Her hands moved across his chest, tracing the hard lines of his him, her touch firm but unhurried as her mouth continued its path along his neck, soft and teasing, each press of dismantling another piece of his restraint. Cloud’s hands rose tentatively, his fingers brushing against her neck before settling on her shoulders, holding her gently, almost unsure.

But the flicker of jealousy burned hotter, cutting through his haze of restraint. He didn’t just want her physically—he wanted her to think she was his, even if only for this moment. The thought was irrational, selfish, but it consumed him nonetheless.

Without giving himself time to think, he reached under her arms and lifted her forward, pulling her into his lap in one swift motion. The sudden shift drew a soft gasp from her lips, her composure faltering ever so slightly as her hands braced against his shoulders. Her thighs straddled him now, pressing down on him in a way that sent his pulse racing.

Cloud’s hand slid downward to grip her ass, his fingers digging and kneading into the soft flesh with a possessive urgency. His other hand anchored at her waist, holding her firmly in place as his lips descended to her neck, rough and unrelenting, leaving faint marks with every press of his mouth. The tension in his chest burned hotter, jealousy and arousal blending into a single, insistent need. He didn’t just want her—he needed her to feel the same urgency coursing through him.

Her hand moved to his chest, her fingers dragging downward with deliberate purpose. Cloud’s breath hitched, his movements faltering for just a moment as her touch trailed lower, sliding across his stomach until it rested over the hard bulge in his pants. Her fingers pressed firmly, a slow, measured touch that made his hips jerk involuntarily against her hand.

A low, rough sound escaped him, somewhere between a groan and a growl, his forehead dropping briefly to her shoulder as he tried to steady himself. Her lips brushed against his ear, a soft hum of approval escaping her as her hand pressed more firmly against him, her fingers teasing along his length through the fabric.

Cloud’s restraint snapped.

He stood, his arms wrapping around her as he lifted her effortlessly, her thighs tightening instinctively around his waist. She gasped softly, her breath warm against his ear as he held her aloft, their bodies flush. Cloud took a step forward, his strength steady and unyielding, before setting her back on her feet, keeping her close.

“Off,” he muttered, his voice low and rough as he tilted his head toward the waistband of his pants. It wasn’t a request—it was a command.

Her hands moved immediately, deft fingers working at the waistband. Cloud’s chest heaved, his eyes roaming over her body as she worked to free him, devouring the soft curve of her breasts, the way her nipples stood taut against the air; the dip of her waist, the subtle crease below her belly. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, his hand sliding up her side and over her ribs before cupping one breast in his palm.

She paused for a moment, her gaze flicking up to his, and the faintest smile curved her lips as his thumb brushed lightly over her nipple. Her reaction—a soft inhale, her chest arching subtly into his touch—only fueled the possessiveness burning in his chest. His hand flexed slightly, kneading her breast as she tugged his pants down, the fabric pooling at his feet.

Cloud kicked his pants away, the motion sharp and deliberate, before he turned them around. His hands were firm on her waist as he guided her backward, pushing until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. Gently but insistently, he pushed her down, her body sinking onto the mattress as he loomed over her.

“Keep going,” he insisted, his hand brushing down to gesture at the waistband of his briefs.

She tilted her head slightly, a flicker of amusement crossing her face as her eyes held his for a moment longer than necessary. But she didn't hesitate. Her hands moved to the elastic, her fingers brushing lightly against his hips as she began to tug the fabric downward. 

He watched her closely, his attention sharp, catching the moment her practiced calm faltered. It was subtle, the barest widening of her eyes, her lips parting slightly, but it was enough. Enough for Cloud to feel a swell of pride surge in his chest, an almost primal satisfaction that made his cock twitch and harden further under her gaze.

She didn't say anything, didn't react beyond that initial flicker of surprise, but Cloud didn't need words. The way her composure wavered, the nearly imperceptible pause as her eyes traced his length, said more than she ever could.

She'd seen others before him, he knew that, but something about the way she looked at him now, like she hadn't expected this, had his chest filling with something possessive and raw.

Cloud's lips curved into the faintest smirk, his confidence only bolstered by her reaction. "Not what you were expecting?" he asked, his tone low, laced with just enough edge to make it teasing but not cruel.

She glanced up at him, her gaze steadying as her practiced calm returned. "Bigger," she said simply, her voice smooth, but he caught the slight rasp in her tone, the faint hitch in her breath that betrayed her. Her fingers tightened slightly on the waistband before she slid the fabric down completely, freeing him fully.

Cloud exhaled sharply, his smirk deepening as he stepped closer, his cock heavy and throbbing. "Good," he murmured, his voice thick with pride and arousal. “Open your mouth.”

She didn't respond verbally, her eyes flicking up to meet his briefly before dropping back down, the faintest flicker of something… anticipation? Crossing her face.

Then slowly, deliberately, she parted her lips, her mouth opening as her hands settled lightly on his thighs for balance. The sight sent a pulse of heat straight to his core, and Cloud's cock twitched in response, the throbbing ache intensifying. He reached down, his fingers brushing against her jaw as he tilted her face up slightly, his touch firm but not rough, guiding her into position.

"That's it," he muttered, his voice dropping even lower, the edges rough with arousal.

For a moment, he simply let himself take in the sight of her before him, her lips parted and her composure shaken just enough to satisfy the possessive part of him that craved this moment.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his again, her hands tightening slightly on his thighs as her lips brushed against the head of his cock, soft and warm. Cloud exhaled sharply, the tension in his body coiling tighter as the faintest groan escaped him, low and guttural. Slowly, her mouth closed around him, her tongue brushing against his skin with a deliberate slowness that left him reeling.

He let his fingers thread through her hair, guiding her gently as his hips rolled forward.

She worked him with a skill that was undeniable, her movements smooth and deliberate, but there was something more behind them now—a subtle shift in her rhythm that told Cloud she wasn't just going through the motions anymore. She was responding to him, to the way his body moved, to the rough, uneven breaths that escaped him with every flick of her tongue, and he let himself sink into the sensation, the push and pull of control that left that left him on the edge of unraveling.

Cloud's breath came in uneven gasps, his chest rising and falling heavily as he watched her. The sight of her-kneeling before him, her lips wrapped around him, her composure cracking just enough to betray the heat beneath her practiced calm-was more intoxicating than he could have imagined. She felt better than anyone ever had, her warmth and the deliberate pressure of her tongue driving him to the edge with every careful movement.

Her rhythm changed subtly, her body adjusting instinctively to him as she took him deeper. Cloud's jaw clenched, his head tilting back slightly as a low groan rumbled in his chest. The feeling was nothing short of euphoric, her skill undeniable, but it was the way she surrendered to him in those moments, her hands gripping his thighs, her eyes flicking up to meet his, her movements no longer entirely measured, hthat made his chest tighten with satisfaction.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his fingers tightening in her hair as she took all of him, her lips brushing against the base of his cock. The sensation made his knees threaten to buckle, his hips rolling forward instinctively as his breath hitched. She was perfect, too perfect, and the way she handled him-like she could take everything he had to give—left him dangerously close to the edge.

Cloud's free hand gripped her shoulder, grounding himself against the rising tide of his arousal. He couldn't lose control, not yet. As good as she felt, as much as the possessive part of him wanted to let her keep going, he wasn't about to come before he got to be inside her. He needed to feel her completely, to make her his.

"Enough," he said roughly, his voice strained as he pulled her back, his fingers still tangled in her hair.

Her lips left him with a faint, wet sound, and her gaze flicked up to meet his again. She didn't speak, but the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of her mouth told him she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

Cloud’s hands moved to her shoulders, gripping her firmly as he guided her backward onto the bed. Her body yielded easily under his touch, her legs spreading instinctively as she let him push her down against the mattress. The flicker of amusement in her eyes shifted into something darker, something hungrier, as she looked up at him.

He leaned over her, bracing himself on one arm as his other hand trailed down her side, tracing the curve of her waist before settling on her hip. "My turn.”

His gaze dropped to her legs, the tattered remnants of her tights clinging stubbornly to her thighs. With a firm grip, he tore into the fabric, the sound of it ripping through the room with satisfying finality. He pulled the shredded material away, discarding it without a second thought. All that remained was the delicate lace of her thong. It was teasing, maddening, and without hesitation, Cloud hooked his finger into the waistband. Slowly, deliberately, he tugged it downward, the lace sliding over her skin like it was reluctant to leave her.

When she was finally bare, Cloud froze, his breath catching in his throat. She was soft everywhere. The fullness of her thighs, the gentle curve of her belly, the swell of her chest—all of it held him captive. But it was the V between her legs that truly undid him. She was soft there, too—cushioned and inviting, looking like the embodiment of warmth and pleasure—and it made something raw and primal twist inside him.

As if compelled by something he didn’t understand, he spoke again. His voice was quiet this time, hesitant but laced with intensity. “How do you like it?” The question was so unlike him—he never asked, never gave up control, never made this personal. And yet, here he was, the words hanging in the air between them like a challenge and an offering all at once.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, dark and steady, her lips curving into a faint smile at his question. “You can do whatever you like with me,” she said simply, the words rolling off her tongue with practiced ease, free of hesitation or uncertainty.

Cloud froze, his hand stilling where it rested against the curve of her hip. Her answer wasn’t flirtatious or teasing—it was matter-of-fact, delivered with the quiet confidence of someone who had said it many times before. Too many times before. The weight of it hit him like a punch to the gut, a stark reminder of what this was, of who she was and why she was here.

The heat that had burned through him moments ago, so all-encompassing and unrelenting, faltered under the weight of her words. His chest tightened, a knot of emotions he didn’t want to name tangling in his stomach. Desire was still there, humming low and insistent, but it was joined now by something colder, sharper—an ache he hadn’t expected.

“...You’re okay with that?” he asked, his voice quieter, rougher.

“It’s what I’m here for,” she replied, her tone carrying no edge, no judgment—just quiet certainty.

The words landed heavily between them, and Cloud felt the tension in his body coil tighter. He knew she was right. This was the arrangement. This was what he’d paid for. She was giving him permission, laying herself out for him to take however he wanted. But instead of freeing him, the thought weighed him down, the possessiveness from before twisting into something else entirely.

He looked at her then, really looked at her, taking in the calm neutrality of her expression, the faint smirk that seemed more like armor than anything genuine. Her body was warm and soft beneath his hands, undeniably perfect, but now it felt distant, like he was holding onto something he couldn’t truly touch.

Cloud exhaled sharply, his gaze dropping to the space between them as he forced himself to focus. This wasn’t the time for introspection, for letting feelings he didn’t understand cloud his thoughts. He was in control, always in control. And yet, as he straightened, his hands sliding from her hips to brace himself on either side of her, he couldn’t ignore the gnawing ache in his chest.

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice steadying, though it felt like a mask he was forcing into place. “Then let’s see what you can take. Turn around and bend over.”

She met his gaze, her lips curling into a faint smirk as she hummed in agreement. “Grab a condom,” she said smoothly, her tone light and teasing, though there was a flicker of seriousness in her eyes. “Safety first.”

Cloud huffed and moved to the nightstand, fumbling slightly as he retrieved the small foil packet. Meanwhile, she moved without hesitation, her practiced grace still intact as she positioned herself on the bed, her hands braced against the mattress and her knees spread just enough to drive him insane. Her hips curved perfectly, soft and full, her ass round and inviting as it rose to meet him. The sight was almost too much, a cruel test of Cloud's fraying composure as he rolled the condom on.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry as he let his gaze linger. He told himself it was better this way—better that he didn’t have to see her face, didn’t have to look into those steady eyes that had already peeled back too many of his defenses. But staring at her now, her hips and ass on full display, the curve of her waist leading his eyes downward, he realized it didn’t help at all. She was just as devastating from behind.

A low, rough sound escaped him as he climbed onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress behind her. His hands found her hips, gripping firmly, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh as he positioned himself. The warmth of her skin beneath his palms sent a shiver through him, the weight of her curves grounding him even as his pulse thundered in his ears.

Cloud leaned forward slightly, his stomach brushing against her ass as he positioned himself closer. The ache in his chest dulled as desire overtook him, forcing out everything else, drowning out the thoughts he didn’t want to acknowledge, leaving only the sharp, unrelenting need to claim her.

He let one hand drift downward, sliding between her legs. His fingers brushed against her, teasingly at first, before pressing more deliberately. She was warm and slick, and the realization that she was already so ready for him sent a surge of satisfaction through his chest. His hand lingered for a moment, exploring her softness, his fingers moving slowly as he gathered her wetness.

The faintest sound escaped her—quiet, but enough to make Cloud's chest tighten and his jaw clench. He pulled his hand back, his fingers glistening, and swiped himself with deliberate care, coating his length with her slickness.

The feeling of her warmth on him was almost enough to break what was left of his restraint, and he had to close his eyes for a moment, steadying his breath as he positioned himself behind her.

He leaned forward slightly as he guided himself to her entrance, his grip on her hips firm. The head of his cock pressed against her, the sensation almost too much, too perfect. Cloud groaned low in his throat, his hands tightening as he pushed forward slowly, the heat of her enveloping him inch by agonizing inch.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. The way her body stretched around him, warm and tight, left him completely undone, and the faint sound she made—a quiet, breathy sigh—certainly didn't help.

Cloud paused for a moment, his forehead lowering briefly to rest between her shoulder blades as he fought to steady his breathing. The sensation of being inside her, the unrelenting pull of her body against his, was more than he’d prepared for. His hands flexed against her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh before he pulled back slowly, the drag of her heat against him almost unbearable, before pushing forward again.

“You feel…” he started, his voice rough and strained, but the words faltered, lost to the haze of sensation overwhelming him. He didn’t know how to describe what she felt like, how perfect she was,

His pace quickened, his hips snapping forward with a desperation that threatened to consume him. The room was filled with the sharp, rhythmic sounds of their bodies meeting—skin against skin, mingled with her soft, breathy moans that spurred him on. 

The sight of her was intoxicating: the arch of her back, the way her body seemed to mold to his movements, yielding so perfectly as if she had been made for this—made for him. Each thrust sent a ripple through her, the plush fullness of her ass bouncing against his hips, her softness pulling him deeper into the haze of need. 

Cloud’s breaths came in uneven gasps, his composure fraying further with every second. She looked devastating like this.

With a low growl, his hand slid from her hip to her lower back, his palm pressing firmly, urging her to tilt her hips just slightly. The subtle shift sent him deeper, the new angle drawing a groan from his chest as pleasure shot through him like lightning. His other hand roamed upward, brushing over the curve of her waist before finding her breast. He cupped it gently, his thumb brushing over her nipple as his fingers kneaded the soft flesh.

“You feel perfect,” he muttered breathed, the words spilling from his lips unbidden, his tone low and almost reverent. He wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her, to himself, or to the moment that had completely consumed him, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was her—the warmth of her body, the softness of her curves, and the way she seemed to pull him in, body and soul, leaving no part of him untouched.

Cloud clenched his jaw, the tension in his body mounting with every movement, every sound she made. He prided himself on control—on lasting, on making sure his partner felt every bit of pleasure they deserved. It was a point of pride, a skill he rarely let falter. But she had unraveled him completely, stripped him of every defense he clung to, leaving only raw need in her wake.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice strained, almost desperate. He squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead dipping momentarily to rest against the curve of her back as he tried to center himself, to pull himself back from the brink. He wanted to last, to draw this out, to savor every second of her—but his body wasn’t listening.

The way her body gripped him, the way she responded so perfectly to every thrust, had him spiraling faster than he could stop.

His rhythm faltered, his hips snapping forward with a roughness born of pure desperation. Cloud’s grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he drove himself deeper, his composure slipping further with every thrust.

“I can’t—shit,” he muttered, his voice strained and raw, but the words cut off in a guttural groan as the tension in his body finally snapped.

His hands slid up her back, one pressing firmly between her shoulder blades while the other steadied her hip. His hips stuttered as he buried himself fully, his body pressing flush against hers. Cloud let out a low, guttural sound, his breath coming in uneven gasps as the release tore through him. The pleasure was overwhelming, a tidal wave that left him trembling, his vision momentarily hazy as every muscle in his body tensed and then melted into her warmth.

Spent and unsteady, Cloud's breaths came in uneven gasps, his chest heaving as he fought to regain control of himself. He stayed still for a moment, his forehead dipping to rest against the curve of her back, the warmth of her skin grounding him as his hands slackened slightly against her hips.

The room was quiet now, save for the lingering echo of their shared breaths and the faint rustle of sheets beneath them. Cloud’s weight shifted forward unconsciously, his body leaning into hers, as if reluctant to let the connection between them break. The tension in his muscles melted away, replaced by a heaviness that felt equal parts exhaustion and something he couldn’t quite name.

He exhaled deeply, the sound rough and uneven, his chest rising and falling as he slid his hands upward. His fingers trailed over her sides and across her back, a touch that was almost apologetic.

Finally, Cloud pushed himself up, straightening with visible effort. His gaze flicked downward, lingering on the point where their bodies were still connected, and he swallowed hard. The moment felt heavier than it should, and he forced himself to move, to break the spell. With deliberate care, he eased himself out of her and shifted back, sitting on his heels. One hand ran through his sweat-dampened hair, the other braced on the bed as he tried to steady his breath.

Behind him, she shifted. The bed creaked softly as she rolled onto her back, the movement smooth but unhurried. Cloud glanced at her, his eyes trailing over her now-relaxed form. Her hair was tousled, framing her face like a halo against the rumpled sheets, her chest rising and falling steadily as she caught her breath. The glow of the dim light softened the lines of her body, highlighting the curve of her waist, the subtle sheen of sweat on her skin, and the utterly unguarded expression on her face.

Cloud let out another breath, his jaw tightening as his eyes darted away. He wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. Moments like this weren’t supposed to linger—they weren’t supposed to feel like they meant something. And yet...

“You okay?”

The words felt awkward leaving his mouth, but he couldn’t ignore the gnawing need to ask.

She turned her head to look at him. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips, neither teasing nor dismissive, but genuine in a way that left him momentarily disarmed. “I’m fine,” she said.

Cloud studied her for a moment longer, her calm reassurance settling something in him, though not entirely. She seemed fine—relaxed, even—and yet the ache in his chest remained, a dull, nagging weight that refused to ease. He nodded, more to himself than to her, and pushed off the bed with deliberate movements.

Reaching down, he removed the condom, knotting it swiftly before tossing it across the room. The quiet thud of it landing in the trash seemed far too final, far too loud in the heavy silence that followed. Cloud exhaled and lowered himself back onto the bed, his body sinking into the mattress beside her.

He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he searched for the words that felt caught somewhere in the back of his throat.

“Sorry,” he said finally, his voice low.

She turned her head toward him, one eyebrow arching in faint surprise. “For what?”

Cloud’s gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to continue. “For not…” He hesitated, the admission catching on his pride, but he pushed through. “For not helping you finish. I swear I'm not usually like this,” he said, the words tumbling out faster than he intended. “I don’t… I don’t lose control like that. I always make sure it’s worth it for them. For you.”

She blinked, clearly caught off guard by the earnestness in his voice. For a moment, she said nothing, just watching him with an unreadable expression.

“You don’t owe me that,” she said softly after a pause. Her tone wasn’t dismissive, but it carried an honesty that unsettled him. “You’re the one who paid me."

Her words were gentle, but they landed heavily between them, and Cloud winced inwardly. He didn’t respond—couldn’t, really.

She studied him for a moment, her gaze unreadable. Cloud couldn’t bring himself to look at her directly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his hands resting awkwardly on his stomach. The silence stretched just long enough for him to wonder what she was thinking before she finally moved.

With a graceful motion, she sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “Where’s the bathroom?” she asked, her voice even, but there was a faint spark of amusement in her tone.

Cloud blinked, turning his head toward her. “Down the hall,” he said gruffly, jerking his chin in the direction of the door.

She nodded, taking a few steps before pausing to glance back over her shoulder. “Not to kill the mood, but I’d rather not get a UTI,” she said lightly, her lips quirking into a smirk.

Cloud stared at her for a beat, the unexpected comment catching him off guard. Then, to his own surprise, he laughed—a quiet, short burst of sound that felt strange and unfamiliar in the stillness of the room. He shook his head slightly, a corner of his mouth tugging upward despite himself. “You always this romantic?”

“Only for the special ones,” she shot back, her voice playful as she disappeared into the hallway.

Cloud let out a long breath, running a hand down his face as he tried to push away the traitorous feelings clawing at his chest.

It was the faint flush of the toilet that pulled him from his thoughts, followed by the sound of running water. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to regain control, but the knot in his chest refused to untangle.

When he heard her footsteps returning, he turned his head toward the doorway—and froze.

She reentered the room with an unhurried grace that drew his gaze instantly. Her hips swayed with each step, the soft curve of her belly shifting subtly as her thighs brushed together. The gentle bounce of her breasts was impossible to ignore, and her hair, still tousled from their time together, tumbled over her shoulders in loose waves, framing her flushed skin.

Cloud's throat tightened, his breath catching as he watched her. He knew he should look away—should force himself to break the spell she seemed to cast without effort—but he couldn’t. His eyes followed her, tracing every curve, every movement, unable to stop himself from staring.

“You keep looking at me like that,” she said, her voice teasing as she approached the bed, “and I’m going to think you’ve never seen a naked woman before.”

“Not like you,” he muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. What the hell was wrong with him?

She laughed softly, the sound light and teasing as she bent to retrieve her dress from the floor. “Does that line usually work for you?” she asked, shaking the fabric out with an easy motion before glancing back at him, her smirk playful.

Cloud’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking away. He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or frustrated that she didn’t seem to take him seriously, didn’t seem to believe the weight behind his words. Her lighthearted response was what he should’ve expected—what he wanted, even. So why did it sting?

She stepped into her dress, the soft material skimming over her curves as she reached back to zip it up. Cloud couldn’t stop himself from watching, couldn’t ignore the way her movements, even now, held a kind of quiet elegance, even as she was preparing to leave. Because this was a transaction, he reminded himself. Nothing more. She was just doing her job, and now the job was done.

“So,” she said, her voice breaking through his thoughts as she smoothed her hands over the fabric. “How’d I do? Worth the gil?” Her tone was light, playful, but there was an edge of detachment beneath it, a reminder of the roles they were playing.

Cloud’s lips pressed into a thin line. He should have responded with something casual, something to match her tone and end things cleanly. But instead, he found himself staring at her, the words catching in his throat as that gnawing ache in his chest twisted tighter.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice rough, almost gruff. “More than... You do this often?” he asked, surprising himself with the question.

She gave a small, sardonic smile and shrugged. “Does it matter?”

It wasn’t a challenge, but it wasn’t an answer either. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she turned away, reaching for her shoes. Cloud watched her move, deliberate way she pulled herself back together, as if she’d done this a thousand times before and would do it a thousand times again.

“I guess not,” he said, trying to push away the gnawing feeling in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was after—why he was still talking, still watching her, still thinking about her when he should have been fine letting her leave.

She looked at him again, her lips quirking into a slight smirk, but her eyes were softer this time. “Don’t worry. You’re not my first.” Her voice was playful, but the words carried a quiet edge.

Cloud nodded, but the tightness in his chest didn’t ease. His gaze dropped to his hands, resting awkwardly on his thighs, as he struggled to find something to say, something to cut through the quiet weight that had settled between them. But nothing came.

The sound of her heel clicking against the floor pulled him from his thoughts. She was standing by the door now, clothed once more, save for her tights, the dress clinging perfectly to her curves. She gazed at him, her lips quirking into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Well,” she said lightly, the playful lilt returning to her voice, though it carried a subtle edge of finality. “You’ve been a pleasure…?”

“Cloud,” he supplied, his voice rough, almost gruff.

She hummed, the sound soft and noncommittal as her gaze lingered on him. “Fitting,” she said. “You’ve got that whole stormy, brooding thing down.”

Cloud’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smile crossing his face despite himself. And then it hit him—he didn’t even know her name.

His gaze lifted to her again, catching the way her hand rested lightly on the doorknob, her posture relaxed but ready to leave. “What about you?”

She paused, the question hanging in the air between them. For a moment, she didn’t answer, her fingers tightening ever so slightly on the knob. Her gaze met his, her brow pinched as though she were weighing her options, considering what to say—or whether to say anything at all.

Finally, she exhaled softly, her name rolling off her tongue. Your name.

Cloud’s jaw tightened as he repeated it silently in his head, committing it to memory as if it were something important, something he might need to hold onto later. He nodded once, the gesture sharp and curt

Your smile widened slightly, softer now, and you turned back to the door, pulling it open. “Take care, Cloud,” you said, your voice quieter this time, almost kind.

And then you were gone.

The quiet click of the door shutting echoed in the room, cutting through the silence like a final note in a song that shouldn’t have ended. Cloud stayed where he was, his body still, but his mind churned. He replayed your words, the way she’d looked at him, the way her smirk softened into something quieter, more genuine, in those last moments.

Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees, his hands dragging down his face as he exhaled a long, uneven breath.

He should have felt relieved—another encounter, another night over. But instead, he felt unsettled, as though something had shifted in his chest and he couldn’t put it back in place.