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apocalypticgargoyle · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, I adore your work; you are so very talented!! ♡ Would you mind writing a continuation of 'Reverse Your Regret,' in which Sapnap gets possessive over the reader? Perhaps, after their ex arrogantly reaches out to them, asking for forgiveness, the reader thoughtlessly brings it up to the incubus .. I hope that makes sense .. Anyways, wherever you decide to take this AU (if anywhere), it will be magnificent. Just wanted to share a passing thought. :)

I love this. I absolutely love this. Also this request.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊. ⛧ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬!𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: incubus!Sapnap x afab!reader

warnings: smut (18+), biting, possessiveness, Dream being an asshole, language, mentions of God and angels

previous part

You furrowed your brows slightly as a knock came to your door. Checking your watch briefly, you swiveled around the corner from your campaign of rifling through the fridge. You were hesitant to peek at who it was, mainly because of the time of night. You stood on your toes, peering through the peephole until your eyes focused on a familiar head of blond hair.

You slumped back against the door, feeling out of breath, and paralyzed with shock. What was he doing out there? You scorned, trying to remember if you had recently texted him when you were drunk, or if he had come on his own accord.

You twisted the knob slowly before inhaling and opening your door to face him. Clay’s eyes met yours, his weight leaning on his hand propped against the threshold lazily. His towering frame blocked most of the hallway light from spilling into your apartment. “Hey,” he greeted easily, voice raspy and low. It had once been your absolute weakness; how simply he could make you unravel by just whispering in your ear or making a snide comment.

You moved an inch to let him into your apartment as if you were on autopilot from his previous actions. After you shut the door behind the two of you, you shoved your hands in your pockets, your fingers brushing against the cardstock that had brought Sapnap to you. His voice seemed to flash into your head when you touched it as if he were consoling you.

Clay leaned against the back of your couch, crossing his arms as he surveyed your body as if he were looking for something in particular. He wet his lips, furrowing his brows. “I really miss you,” he mumbled, looking at you with a softer expression. “I really have no idea what was going through my head when I broke things off,” he apologized.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “I’m not…” you answered, the hesitance in your voice demonstrating your disbelief. “I mean, we really… weren’t healthy…” His eyes drifted to your floor in front of him before darting back up to your gaze.

He stiffened slightly as if noticing something about you. “You look different,” he muttered absent-mindedly. You pinched yourself, wondering how you could have ever vied for his gaze and attention. You used to yearn for him to scrutinize and nit-pick, but now you knew what it was like to have a man that earned your respect, even if he did own you. Clay only took it.

You shrugged slightly, unsure of how to answer him as the pads of your fingers traced the raised print on the card. “I haven’t done anything differently,” you answered, averting your stare to bounce around at his clothing.

He tsked lowly. “No, something is definitely off about you.” He stood, walking to plant himself in front of you. He slowly reached a hand toward you, brushing your hair off your shoulder before gently dipping his fingers between your collar and moving your shirt to expose one of your shoulders. You hated yourself for wanting to lean into his touch and bury your face in his chest.

His fingers brushed against a sore spot on your skin, and you knew instantly what he was looking at: a bite from Sapnap.

Something dark flickered across his expression and he seemed almost fearful as he took a step back from you. He smirked slightly. “I see how it is,” he nipped mockingly, teeth digging into his bottom lip. “I knew your eyes seemed a bit dead, I just didn’t think you would have gone that far.”

You quipped an eyebrow in his direction, your hand moving to rest over the mark. There was no way he could have been able to tell what it meant. Your heart thumped in your chest as you wondered what Clay would have thought of you.

Before you could ask, he spoke again. “I just came by to check up on you. I heard you’d been acting strange.” He chuckled shortly. “I get why now.” You weren’t sure why he was so bitter, in fact, even when the two of you were at your worst, he never spoke to you with such malice. He began to back out of your apartment. “Just be careful. You don’t seem like the type stupid enough to get into that stuff, but from the looks of it, I might be wrong.”

You furrowed your brows, watching him leave as you stood there in shock, unable to piece together what had just happened. You weren’t sure how long you have been standing in the middle of your apartment with your mind running blank.

“What is that smell?” Sapnap’s voice boomed from one corner of your room, making you jump to look at him, your heart seemingly restarting. His face twisted in some kind of angry disgust.

You exhaled. “Jesus! You have to stop doing that!” You bit back as he seemed to further investigate whatever was bothering him, even going as far as opening a window. When you realized how much I affected him you self-consciously sniffed yourself. You smelled fine. “What are you smelling?” You queried, watching as he scoured your living room.

He stopped, looking at you with gleaming eyes. Something seemed to click in his mind and before you knew it, he was standing before you, hand resting on the side of your neck as he took a whiff of you, nose brushing against your neck. You inched away from him out of confusion and discomfort. “You’ve had an angel in here haven’t you?”

You were taken aback, to say the least. “I- what?”

“Who just left?” He asked, covering his mouth and nose as if you were repulsive to him.

You swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest, and folding in on yourself. “I don’t know… It was just my ex-boyfri-“

He cut you off. “Are you fucking serious?” You nodded slowly, wondering where he was going with this, and if these pieces of your story were de-cluttering his puzzle. “That’s why you were so uncomfortable, and why you smell overwhelmingly like rotting flowers?”

You tilted your head. “Rotting flowers?”

Sapnap rubbed his chin slightly. “He could probably tell. Mortals lose a certain light in their eyes after giving themselves to a demon,” he muttered, watching your expression shift. “Those fucking God cops are always in our territory.”

You wet your lips. “Speak plainly, Sapnap,” you insisted, breath becoming shallow.

He smugly grinned at you. “You were prime angel real estate before I came along, baby,” he answered snidely, making heat spread across your body. He got closer to you, pressing his fingertips against the portions of your skin that Clay had grazed over just moments prior as if he were spreading his own scent to cleanse Clay off your skin. “Now, not even God can help you,” he gleamed, teeth tugging at his lip before leaning towards you and pressing his mouth to yours. He broke the kiss only to hover near your ear, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you against him. “Your soul’s mine.”

His body was intoxicating, and while you knew it was dangerous to be with him, you felt safer with Sapnap even if he was blatantly telling you just how damned you were. The news was easier to swallow with his tongue slipping into your mouth and his voice whispering sweetly possessive venom into your ear.

You ground your hips against him as he pressed his lips against your neck, teeth trailing after his contact, fingers digging into your skin or the leather couch beneath you. Your hair tangled with his movements, clawing at his back as his teeth clicked against your chest. His tongue darted over his previous bite that you figured would end up scaring; a permanent homage to him on your body.

He had known the adrenaline rushing through your veins at Clay’s arrival. He’d known the discomfort and the borderline fear you had to edge yourself off of earlier, therefore as he kneaded the flesh of your thighs in his hand, he was sure to validate that Clay could threaten you all he wanted, but while Sapnap was around, he couldn’t hurt you. He had explained in the past that you were his personal plaything, and thus you had gained his protection and respect in an almost sadistic way.

You moaned as his fingers slid beneath your shirt, tugging it over your head while you pulled his own off, letting his lips attack your neck again. You brazenly ground your hips up against his, wrapping a leg around his thigh in a desperate search for more friction.

You knew the heated mix of Sapnap’s possessive urges and your determination to please him would have your knees shaking in no time as he dragged your pants down your legs, fingers clawing at the now bare skin of your thighs as you, carded your fingers through his hair, tugging at his roots and swallowing his moans.

The two of you rushed into your pleasures, letting him push into you and send your mind spending. You were forgetting Clay’s name with each punctuated thrust of his hips as he bottomed out in you. You clenched around him, making him groan into your shoulder, teeth threatening to mark you again.

He pulled out of you, only to flip you onto your stomach, jutting your hips up and against his as he drove himself into you again, pressing your shoulders into the couch. You bit down on your bottom lip preventing yourself from moaning out his name as his fingers dug into your shoulders, teaching you just how much he liked to use your body. With how good he was making you feel, you didn’t give a damn.

He panted out your name, his voice low and gruff as he nearly commanded and controlled your orgasm. You whimpered at his antics and he chuckled darkly. “I should be ripping you apart after you let that thing into your apartment,” he threatened seductively. You moaned out and apology as his lips and tongue met your shoulder blade, fingers tracing the length of your spine. You could feel the pads of his fingers circling each of your vertebrates as he drove himself deeper into you, reaching just where you needed him.

You came undone quicker than you had expected, moaning as he picked up his pace to bring himself to finishing, your vision blurring from the stimulation as he used you. His hand gripped onto your hips as his paces stuttered against you, a groan hissing through his teeth. His hand laced with yours momentarily before the two of you straightened yourselves up.

You pulled your knees to your chest, watching him rebutton his shirt. You slipped your arms further into your hoodie and he looked at you with a small perk of his eyebrow. “What are you thinking about?” He asked.

You chewed the corner of your mouth. “What do demons smell like to angels then?”

“Charcoal,” he answered plainly. “Sometimes just burning.” He sat beside you, pulling you to his side. You snuggled into his warmth, resting your head on his chest.

You inhaled sharply. “So… Clay’s an angel…”

You couldn’t see his face, but you knew his eyes began to glow at the mention of the other species, especially the man you’d been associated with. “Yeah, they call him Dream.” He hesitated slightly. “He’s one of the worst.”

You felt like you were walking on eggshells to ask him more. “Did you know him?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Before I got kicked out,” he joked, covering the obvious hurt in his voice.

“Kicked out of where?” You probed, already somewhat figuring you knew the answer.

He was quiet. “Heaven.”

Sapnap Tag List:

@bobbyftmydad

#mcyt x you #mcyt smut #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #sapnap x you #sapnap smut #sapnap fanfic #sapnap x y/n #sapnap x reader #incubus!sapnap #demon au

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wisehoagiekidwobbler · 4 years ago

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Forms of Witchcraft

•Dolls and Poppets

Poppets are the English terms for what movies call a ‘voodoo doll’. Voodoo doll is a misnomer, and does nothing for either poppets or Haitian magic.

Poppets can be used for a couple of things – mainly either cursing or healing. This doesn’t always have to be physical curses/cures – poppets can also be used to influence thought patterns.

Dolls can also be used to provide homes for Spirits, or used to create guardians. You can also use a doll as a scapegoat to prevent a curse from latching onto you.

•Shrinemaking

Shrine making is less a way to create a defined outcome, and more a way of pleasing Spirits who you may later want to call upon. It’s kinda like taking your new neighbours a pie, in case you ever need them to watch the house whilst you’re away. The pie is an overture to a friendly relationship, not direct payment for the house sitting. However, if you just blundered into their garden one day and offered them £100 to watch the house, they’d probably tell you to get lost. Randomly calling up Spirits, Saint or Deities can have the same effect. I mean, would you help someone get a job if they just banged on your door and waved some incense at you? Get your local Spirits pies. Find out what scents, and objects, and offerings that they like. Keep the land around you clean, and pick up after other people if you can. Use your vote and your money to protect the land from logging and fracking. Build a dedicated ‘meeting space’ where you call up Spirits, and fill it full of pictures of them or things they like. It pays dividends in the future.

Shrinemaking can also be used to help bless and protect your home and land. By connecting with the other Spirits that are there, you solidify the relationship, and can work together against intruders.

•Bottles and Jars

Witch bottles (or spell jars) are fun, easy ways to create a variety of effects. As a spell base, they can be effective for:

* money

* love

* friendship

* animal work

* protection

Some people define a witch bottle as strictly the traditional version which is used as a scapegoat, and call other spells involving bottles and jars ‘spell jars’. Some people use the term witch bottle to encompass all magics involving jars.

You can learn about all types of bottle magic in the free course which you can sign up for below!

•Candles

Candle magic is a much more modern form of magic than you’d think – especially if we’re talking coloured candles. Candles were very precious objects in the past! However, it was not an unusual item to have, like a hunk of crystal or fairy doll, which is why they became an item to use for undetected witchcraft – like brooms, and cauldrons.

As candles have got cheaper and cheaper and less needed to be used for lighting, much more forms and types of magic have sprung up around them. With the addition of coloured waxes or painted candles, the sorts of magic you can do with candles has grown exponentially.

Candles are a subset of fire magic and therefore are fantastic for banishing, but they are often the beginners tool of choice. It’s easy to understand why – easy to get hold of, easy to use, and there’s as much fancy ritual needed as you feel inclined to give it.

When you want to expand your knowledge, you can still stick with candles – but investigate the use of oils, herbs and crystals in conjunction with candles.

•Crystals and Rocks

Crystals and rocks are often used as ‘ingredients’ in other spells. They are very easy to add to bottles, pouches, dolls and more. However, you can also use crystals in spell work solely on their own by adding them to your pillow, till, money box, plant pot, etc.

Their use goes much further than this, but that enters the realm of energy healing which is a part of many traditions and is a very dedicated and intensive practice all by itself, and too much to explain here.

Air

You can utilize the powers of air in a lot of ways. It’s usually good for cleansing spells – think sweeping with a ritual broom, burning incense (smoke=air, not fire), ringing bells or playing bowls, singing, using flags and wheels. Air methods tend to return quick results.

Earth

Earth brings slow results, but they tend to be larger. Earth practices include enchanting seeds that will bring you money as they grow, burying offerings in the Earth, making vessels and spells out of clay, or writing spells in the mud.

Fire

Fire can bring things into your life, but is much better used to get rid of them – for beginners, anyway. If there is anything in your life that you wish to get rid of, you can write or draw a representation of it and cast it into the fire to remove it.

Water

Water can take the longest time to bring you what you need. However, think of water pounding against a rock. Drips of water became rivers, became waterfalls. Water can often bring you the biggest results, but it may take a long time.

Water spells can include potions (see below), but can also include ritual baths, leaving offers in water, or giving up bad energy or habits to the ocean.

•Bones

Bones are a contentious subject in witchcraft. Some people will never use them, some people’s practice is not complete without them. You can actually get bones in an ethical manner, by either cleaning up roadkill yourself or paying someone to do it for you, or literally keeping the bones from your dinner!

Some uses for bones are:

* Telling the future (casting bones or lots)

* Housing the Spirit of the animal so you can work with them

* Form parts of wands or ritual jewellery or headresses

* Ingredients in pouches

Tarot, Runes and Ogham

You can use all of these fortune telling tools in spells, too! You can choose one of them that has a characteristic or represents an outcome that you’d like. So if you wanted a new job, you might choose the Ace of Pentacles. Then you could do any one of the following with it:

* Use it to focus a candle spell

* Add it to a pouch or bag spell

* Add it to a jar spell

* Use it in lieu of a sigil

* Make a vision board around it

* Even burn it! (You can get single Tarot cards for this purpose on eBay.)

•Potions and Elixirs

Potion Magic used to be a lot more popular. Whilst elixirs, tisanes and tea blends are still popular for use on yourself, the masses of recipes of potions, philtres and similar recipes have all but died out. That’s because a lot of potion magic is only to be used in desperate circumstances, like love potions and curses. The reason so many old fashioned love potions are beyond creepy and controlling is that woman’s husband was her meal ticket. If he left her, not only would she be blamed, but she would be out of a house, food and her own family probably wouldn’t take her in. She had shamed them all. (Often through no actual fault of her own.) She was literally facing public humiliation, being outcast, perhaps even starving to death – and sometimes her children along with here.

So dousing a lover or husband’s food with love potion made a lot more sense then, than it does now.

Thankfully, most of us don’t live in those circumstances any more, so a lot of philtre or potion use has died out. However, there are still some amazing things you can make to ingest yourself:

* Tea blends

* Tisanes (herbals teas)

* Bath spells

* Lunar or solar water

* Herbal Oils

Spoken Magic

Spoken Magic can be long and complicated, or very short. It doesn’t have to rhyme (but it can) it doesn’t have to flow like poetry (but it can). You can use spoken incantation to help direct energy when you’re using other methods, but you can also use it on it’s own.

Some examples of spoken magic:

* Affirmations

* Words of power

* Singing

* Ritual Offerings

* Wishes

You can even banish Spirit’s solely through your voice. Shouting ‘Leave!’ with the correct intention can be very powerful.

•Written Magic

Written magic has existed since we could write. Many cultures view writing AS magic. Think about it – 26 (or thereabouts, depends on your alphabet) tiny squiggles can become anything when placed in the right order. Dumbledore was right about the power of words.

Written magic can include:

* Petitions to Spirits

* Magic squares

* Words of power or protection

* Wishes

* Tattoos

* Rune work

Bag and Pouch Magic

There is all kinds of bag magic – from mojo bags, to more modern spell envelopes. The main idea behind bag or pouch magic is that keeping a carefully curated selection of objects together for a certain time period will produce the effects that you want. A lot of bag magic produces indefinite spells provided they are charged. Such bags usually grant the wearer protection, prosperity, luck or good health. However, there are bag magics wear a specific time limited spell is wanted – invisibility spells, hex breakers and the like.

•Enchantments and Glamours

Enchantment covers a variety of spell types, but theme of the spells are pretty much the same. Enchantment covers a lot of the old folklore kind of witchcraft – hidden worlds, changing age, changing into different animals and so on.

Enchanting something fools the viewer into believing something is there when it is not, or isn’t there when it is, or is something completely different.

Think of the Harry Potter scene where Hermione explains that the ceiling of the Great Hall isn’t a real sky, it’s just enchanted to look that way.

Real enchantment can be done for fun, but they can also be useful pieces of magic. You can enchant jewelry, clothes or makeup to bestow certain personality traits upon you. You can enchant your witchy items to look normal if you’re fearful of discovery. The possibilities are just about endless.

#grimoire #witchcraft #book of spells #wicca #book of shadows #witch #spell book #witches journal #magic book #pagan #black magic #black spells #witchy #witchy spells #beginner witch #witchblr #witchtober

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jewfrogs · 4 years ago

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What was the place of trans people in Ancient Greece? I don’t mean myths, but accounts of irl trans people. I once read something about priests of Aphrodite whose initiation ceremony was castration and wearing women’s clothing, which could be reinterpreted through a modern lens as Ancient Greece’s version of trans women, so to speak. Perhaps even non-binarism, though I don’t believe there was basis for escaping the gender binary and the very much enforced roles in the Greek patriarchy.

this is another great question! i’m going to broaden our scope a little bit to include some discussion of rome as well, because there’s a lot of useful stuff there and the two are interlinked.

discussing trans people in any historical context is difficult, because the framework through which we understand it doesn’t exist. that isn’t to say that people who didn’t conform to their assigned gender didn’t exist (gender variance has been documented for about as long as history), but that applying modern labels and understandings to them doesn’t always work, and there’s a lot of overlap between some categories (e.g. could we understand this individual as a trans woman or as an effeminate [gay] man? what does that mean when neither of those identities are contextual during the individual’s time?). all that to say: there isn’t a lot that directly corresponds to trans people from antiquity, but there’s certainly not nothing.

one reference to trans people in ancient greece comes from lucian’s dialogue of the courtesans (c. 120-190 CE), where the character megilla/us seems to be remarkably like a trans man: “I was born a woman like the rest of you, but I have the mind and the desires and everything else of a man.” this is an excellent post that discusses this passage in depth.

according to pliny the elder, there was a noted phenomenon of women turning into men: “The change of females into males is undoubtedly no fable. We find it stated in the Annals, that, in the consulship of P. Licinius Crassus and C. Cassius Longinus, a girl, who was living at Casinum with her parents, was changed into a boy; and that, by the command of the Aruspices, he was con- veyed away to a desert island. Licinius Mucianus informs us, that he once saw at Argos a person whose name was then Arescon, though he had been formerly called Arescusa: that this person had been married to a man, but that, shortly after, a beard and marks of virility made their appearance, upon which he took to himself a wife. He had also seen a boy at Smyrna, to whom the very same thing had happened. I myself saw in Africa one L. Cossicius, a citizen of Thysdris, who had been changed into a man the very day on which he was married to a husband.” (Plin. Nat. 7.4) it seems likely that this is discussing intersex people, since pliny references them immediately before, but it is interesting to see evidence for at least some form of transition and for the acceptance of said transition—arescon has a wife! that’s pretty neat! these people seem to be fairly well-accepted, which does make one think about how transition in general might have worked or been seen.

with regards to the priests, i haven’t read about anything like that with aphrodite (although i would be remiss not to mention aphroditos here, particularly her mention in macrobius’ saturnalia), but i’m guessing you’re thinking of the galli, priests of cybele (a phrygian goddess, often correlated with rhea and with the intersex deity agdistis) as well as her lover attis (who was castrated as well—catullus 63, which i am going to write something about one day, is a retelling of their myth). they were castrated and generally wore women’s clothing, and many sources refer to them with feminine language. firmicus maternus (c. 4th century AD) said of them negant se viros esse, et non sunt <mulieres>: mulieres se volunt credi (“they deny that they are men, and are not <women>: they want to be believed as women”). there are certainly parallels that can be drawn here!

in addition, there can be a lot of blurred overlap between gay readings and trans readings. in ancient greek & roman thought, the categories of men-who-are-penetrated and women-who-penetrate (or, well... hump, since one of the latin words for these women is tribades, or “rubbers”) are almost genders in their own right, or perhaps the intersection of two genders: men-who-are-penetrated are like women but not, and women-who-penetrate are like men but not. (it can definitely be interpreted, to some extent, that these people want to be read as the opposite binary gender to the one they were assigned—which raises the question of whether we simply don’t know some of these stories because people did pass and therefore it wasn’t outwardly transgressive.)

this is probably best encapsulated by an excerpt from the fables of phaedrus (a first-century CE roman author who is supposedly adapting aesop’s work), where the question tribadas et molles mares quae ratio procreasset (what reason brought [lesbians] and [effeminate men] into existence?) is asked, and this is the answer:

The same Prometheus, creator of the clay crowd (which is broken the moment it offends fortune), had made those parts of nature which decency hides with clothing apart from the rest for the whole day. Just before he could fix the parts to the right bodies, he was suddenly invited to dinner by Liber; when he had watered his veins well with nectar, he returned home late at night on faltering feet. Then, with a half-awake mind and a drunken mistake, he applied maidenhood to a type of man and affixed masculine members to the women; thus desire now enjoys perverse joy.

there are different ways this can be read, because “applicuit virginale generi masculo” and “masculina membra applicuit feminis” can both be taken as an aetiology for either tribades or molles mares. take one: the first line refers to molles mares, making them men in body with women’s spirits, and the second line refers to tribades, making them women in body with men’s spirits. take two: the first line refers to tribades, making them men in spirit with women’s bodies, and the second line refers to molles mares, making them women in spirit with men’s bodies. these are both really interesting readings that both resonate to some extent with transness and specifically with the space in between gayness and transness.

as an example, take the figure agathon (a fictionalized portrayal of a real playwright) from aristophanes’ thesmophorizusae. agathon is notably effeminate—he’s first introduced by a character saying εγώ γαρ ουχ όρω άνδρ’ ουδέν ε��θάδ’ όντα, Κυρήνην δ’ όρω (“I see no man, but I see Cyrene”, in reference to, as one commentary puts it, “a dissolute woman of the day”). that is to say: agathon is read as a woman. when another character in the thesmo needs to dress up as a woman, he doesn’t borrow a woman’s clothes—he borrows agathon’s. could we read agathon as a trans figure? perhaps! but his effeminacy is tied to him being, as the greek puts it, ευρύπρωκτος—literally “wide-assed”, but often translated simply as a certain six-letter word that starts with f. agathon isn’t a woman, exactly, but he’s not quite a man either. i wouldn’t necessarily call this in-between space trans, but i don’t know if i could call it cis either.

tl;dr: there are few depictions of people we might call trans as we understand it today from ancient greece, but there are a lot of interesting questions we can ask and consider with regards to gender that touch on transness and antique experiences analogous to modern-day trans ones. also gayness and transness are very much intertwined.

#i didnt include any myths bc this is long enough already and u said not in myth BUT.#mythological depictions do also add another layer to this #bc there are stories like iphis or leucippus or tiresias or hermaphroditus that Smack of transness to varying degrees #ancient greece #classics #anonymous #ask

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paradife-loft · 4 years ago

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Avoidance

1.2k words, Xiyao, Qinyao, JGY POV. A discussion of marriage. Everyone’s aro in this bar, yes I DO make the rules.

So, allegedly I am “trying to write at least a fic a week or so for Jin Guangyao’s birthday month” or similar? Skating in right under the “deadline” for week 1, of course; how could I do anything else? The other, uhh, vague inspiration going on for me this month is the AroWriMo project happening in February, even if I feel ??? about actually submitting things for it because I’m a weirdo (shhhh) >_> So yeah, I was thinking of that week 1 prompt, “future” for this as well.

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“Er-ge. Are you sure nothing is bothering you today, besides the usual small matters? You’ve seemed distracted all through dinner. I know you said everything at Gusu is fine and your brother’s just returned, but if there’s anything at all…”

The slight push, necessary you’ve determined with how oddly quiet he’s been, is kind and, you hope, gentle – but still firm enough, it seems, to make Lan Xichen avert his eyes. Instead of answering you, immediately, he reaches for the pot of tea; holds his sleeve; refills your cup, then his own.

By the time he’s finished, his face has opened slightly - he does not smile, not as you would, nor as he might have if asked the same thing by another, letting the customary warmth of his demeanor freeze over with the thinnest layer of ice. He looks pensive, mostly; uncertain; flesh and blood.

“I have had a few… uncomfortable conversations with my uncle recently,” Xichen eventually admits. He holds the pearl-white clay and its wisps of fragrant steam before his chest, cupping one hand with the other. “He and the clan elders are of a like mind on seeing the continuation of the clan’s main line, and regarding the benefits of a happy marital union that they prefer I not deprive myself of.”

He sighs, perhaps without noticing it, and then this time, he does smile at you, as if apologising for bringing any mention of discordance or turmoil to your door, much less one you’ve already discussed before.

“Would it help to think of it merely in the practical sense?” you offer, trying to imagine it yourself as you do: Lan Xichen, accompanied by a wife, by a Lan-furen, the sort of partner he could deserve and find joy and comfort in. It is difficult; even with your talents and the closer intimacy he has allowed you into compared to anyone else outside his house, you find it a faint and slippery impression to hold. A sect leader ought to be balanced by a partner and his children, but Lan Xichen, for all his kindness, his warmth, rebuffs any attempts to picture him so.

(You remember, suddenly, the outline of a dream he once related to you, sitting calm and drowsing at your feet in little more than an underrobe, while you stroked his hair in your lap. He had flushed to tell it, and ultimately gotten little more detail out than a focal point where you called him, and treated him, as your wife. Not the sort of fantasy you’d been looking for at the time, but you’d negotiated plenty of ideas over the years and a few incompatible ones on occasion weren’t that difficult.)

Not that any of that is, for the moment, practical. You sip your tea, and contemplate how best you might advocate, as Lan Xichen terms, the benefits of a happy union.

Your first comparison, of course, is yourself and a-Su – how could it not be? You know precious few others. Meanwhile, her kindness has dredged your spirit from the depths of some of the most crushing, bloody-bruised days you remember at Jinlintai; through the years, her laughter has infected you; her boldness suggested solutions to puzzles you had otherwise tangled yourself into irreparable knots over. Even if, steadfastly, you had refused all her advances, any unchaste touch, since the time you learned…

With a flicker, you turn that thought into powdery dust, and touch up the pleasant, thoughtful face you’ve donned instead. Lan Xichen still watches you, quiet and polite in the way he indicates his interest.

You lay your palms flat on the table. “Would it be such a difficult thing? To have a companion with you when circumstances don’t permit one of us to travel; to have someone who can help you balance the responsibilities of your sect? Ignoring, for a moment, the presence of a certain type of… passion and sentiment that the traditional texts assume –”

A full smile crosses your face back at him now, and you coax it into amusement, into seeming a bit playful and conspiratorial through a crinkle in your eyes. “I think if pressed, you could certainly find scholars somewhere in your library who might agree with a partnership you’d find more compatible than that, don’t you? A guest in the home, after all?”

Xichen returns your smile, but the shape of his lips is wry, his face tight about his eyes and mouth. “A-Yao... And if I would prefer to not have any guests in my house? What would you suggest then?”

It has the form of the banter you’d hoped for, but little of the substance, and it catches you off-guard like missing a step down the stairs.

You can’t help but duck your eyes once he finishes, your face warming in understanding. You lace your fingers inward beneath the table. “I apologise, er-ge,” you respond, a moment of tightened silence later. “I thought to offer the kind of advice I’ve taken comfort in myself, in the past; I didn’t mean to overstep.”

His smile softens, even if it doesn’t looks much happier. “I understand; I take no offense. But you – have you been having difficulties in your relationship with Jin-furen? To need comforting advice? The pair of you always seemed… but please, if I’ve ignored some distress you’ve had, or if I can offer advice, or sympathy…”

Ah, er-ge. He��s probably aware that you’ve noted the abrupt way he’s slid between topics, but considering… you can let him pretend if he wants this time.

You shake your head. “A-Su and I are as well as always. The notion of marriage can simply be… nerve-racking, for one preparing to enter into it, is all.”

If you were to spare a longer glance cast outside the center of your thoughts, you might more substantively lay eyes on the grain of frustration lurking there, but…

(The obvious aside, as you ordinarily try to keep it, you are not unhappy with Qin Su. She is dear to you; she is lovely and gracious and kind and witty as you could have ever wished a wife to be. But if you had ever wished not to court her, or to court anyone - ? Well. How could anyone turn down the alliances that would be made, the riches changing hands to secure a betrothal?)

(Anyone other than a Jade of Lan, apparently.)

But he nods in agreement at your own polite deflection of the topic; even as, from what you’ve gleaned, his own feelings were he in the position you reference would be characterised less as anxiety and more like dread – with none of the pleasant anticipation you had told yourself you must have felt as well.

You don’t truly mind. Lan Xichen has so few people to care for him as a person, rather than an image; you feel a contentment in being able to do so, even if as now you misstep on occasion.

Perhaps, on this topic, you will be able to try again once the bruises aren’t so fresh.

#that time James wrote fic #no good things for the poor sad cultivators #Jin Guangyao #Lan Xichen #oh boy I could probably go on for *days* about the ideas going into this piece but. I will spare you all the tag ramble *___*

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la-semillera · 4 years ago

Photo

JOAN MITCHELL Interview with Yves Michaud (1986)

YVES MICHAUD: What inspires you to paint?

JOAN MITCHELL: When I was sick, they moved me to a room with a window and suddenly through the window I saw two fir trees in a park, and the grey sky, and the beautiful grey rain, and I was so happy. It had something to do with being alive. I could see the pine trees, and I felt I could paint. If I could see them, I felt I would paint a painting. Last year, I could not paint. For a while I did not react to anything. All I saw was a white metallic color.

YM: When you started again painting, you painted dying sunflowers. I remember that you said to me then: "At least, I can feel them."…

JM: Sunflowers are something I feel very intensely. They look so wonderful when young and they are so very moving when they are dying. I don't like fields of sunflowers. I like them alone or, of course, painted by Van Gogh.

YM: You talk of feeling, existing, living....

JM: Feeling, existing, living, I think it's all the same, except for quality. Existing is survival; it does not mean necessarily feeling. You can say good morning, good evening. Feeling is something more: it's feeling your existence. It's not just survival. Painting is a means of feeling "living." . . . Painting is the only art form except still photography which is without time. Music takes time to listen to and ends, writing takes time and ends, movies end, ideas and even sculpture take time. Painting does not. It never ends, it is the only thing that is both continuous and still. Then I can be very happy. It's a still place. It's like one word, one image....

YM: What do you want from a painting?

JM: I am trying to achieve anything I can. I don't set out to achieve a specific thing, perhaps to catch motion or to catch a feeling. Call it layer painting, gestural painting, easel painting or whatever you want. I paint oil on canvas--without an easel. Conventional methods. I do not condense things. I try to eliminate cliches, extraneous material. I try to make it exact. My painting is not an allegory or a story. It is more like a poem.

YM: But what is the meaning of a picture?

JM: What it means? It seems very clear what it means. I can't say it but the painting makes it clear. If I don't know, then it's not working. If it seems right to me, then it has a meaning, but I can't tell you what meaning. I can't be more specific than that. it works when it means something, when I don't question it any more.

YM: Whom do you paint for?

JM: I suppose I must paint for me and my dogs. We are in the studio and they watch. I said painting is not motion, it is not in time. I think any involvement of any kind is to forget not being alive. Painting is one of those things. I am alive, we are alive, we are not aware of what is coming next. I am afraid of death. Abandonment is death also. I mean: somebody leaves and other people also leave. I never say goodbye to people. Somebody comes for dinner and then leaves. I am very nervous. Because the leaving is the worst part. Often in my mind, they have already left before they have come. I guess this is why everyone is reproduced in my imaginary photograph album.

YM: When and how do you paint?

JM: I often paint during the night but I have nothing to do with night. I like the light. I prefer the daylight. I also work in the afternoon. I check what I have done the night be- fore. Certain colors change enormously with electric light....

YM: When is a painting finished?

JM: When it stops questioning me. Sometimes I don't know what to do with it. Sometimes I don't know exactly what I want. I check it out, recheck it for clays or weeks. Sometimes there is more to do on it. Sometimes I am afraid of ruining what I have. Sometimes I am lazy, I don't finish it or I don't push it far enough. Sometimes I think it's a painting.

YM: Why do you prefer to talk of painting when you are in your studio?

JM: There I exist in painting. In some other place I exist differently.

YM: So you suggest that your identity is in your painting?

JM: I find a certain recognition but I don't always connect the painting with me, with that person I hear on the tape, although the ideas are familiar. I imagine a sort of scaffolding made of painting stretchers around a lot of colored chaos as an identity. I am an outsider, I happen to live in France, I am an alien. So for my identity I need to know where I am, to look at maps. I want to know where the north is, and Vetheuil, and New York, and what street I am on.

YM: Do you recognize yourself in your paintings? Are they a part of you, or an image, or something specially connected with you?

JM: I don't know. I have often questioned, "Did I do that?" on seeing a painting of mine unexpectedly in some place. It has become disconnected. Once they leave the studio, they go and it is another sort of abandonment. When my paintings left my studio for New York recently, I was in the garden and the trees and the garden were beautiful and there was a beautiful light and I saw the paintings moving. A big strong man moved them with great ease and I saw all their colors behind the trees moving and it was like a parade and I was happy. I did not feel abandoned for a change. But a painting is not part of me. Because when I do paint, I am not aware of myself. As I said before, I am "no hands," the painting is telling me what to do. So it is not really a part of me at all. It is part of something else. Communication is very difficult. I want to paint the feeling of a space. It might be an enclosed space, it might be a vast space. It might be an object working with Hofmann's phrase "push and pull," the structure, the light, the space, the color.

YM: What about your type of painting, your style or your technique?

JM: Abstract is not a style. I simply want to make a surface work. This is just a use of space and form: it's an ambivalence of forms and space. Style in painting has to do with labels. Lots of painters are obsessed with inventing something. When I was young, it never occurred to me to invent. AD I wanted to do was paint. I was so and still I am in such adulation of great painters. If you study a Matisse, the way paint is put on and the way he puts on white, that's painting technique. I wanted to put on paint like Matisse. I worked hard at that a very long time ago. Someone said to me recently with surprise: "But you don't paint in 'series,' you paint pictures, each painting is different." And I thought: no, I paint paintings.

- Yves Michaud, excerpts from "Conversations with Joan Mitchell, January 12, 1986," in Joan Mitchell: New Paintings (New York: Xavier Fourcade, 1986), n.p.

#yves michaud #joan mitchell

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yhwhsdaughter · 4 years ago

Note

oh, in that chase could i get headcanons or Scenario of Deidara With a fem!S/o who is part of the royal family (of his respective nation) but it´s also (and opposite of how it has to be a princess) a ninja of anbu level and it becomes a traitor of her nation when they discover the relationship

I’m still not that far into Naruto, so apologies if Deidara is a bit ooc. Hope you enjoy ✨

𝔻𝕖𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕒 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣

As a member of the royal family, you had to abide by the etiquette that was imposed on you at a young age. It was important that, as the nation’s only princess, you act graciously.

You never found the appeal of pretending to be someone you were not, often rebelling against these royal rules.

However, you wouldn’t have to worry about these for much longer. Near your sixth birthday, an assassin would infiltrate the palace killing all members of the royal family, except you, before he was intercepted.

Left as the sole heir, you were destined to take the throne but because you were too young to rule an entire nation, self-appointed leaders began to appear. A civil war ensued, tearing the once peaceful country into shambles.

You had been sent to live with your uncle, the Third Tsuchikage of Iwagakure while the aftermath settled down.

The village was surrounded by mountain ranges, built from the same stone as those. Villagers, especially shinobi, were headstrong. They had rock-hard attitudes they applied to their lives. In fact, many of them practiced Earth Release techniques.

You quickly took an interest in becoming a shinobi to distract yourself from the pain of losing those closest to you. It wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism but your uncle allowed it. He thought if you used that as an outlet to let your anger and negative emotions out, you would eventually healed.

He was partly right. The events that occurred during your youth marked you permanently and would have led you into a darker, self-destructive path if it wasn’t for Deidara.

You met him through training. He was rather talented and his presence brought you peace. Deidara always seemed relaxed, even in battle, but that wasn’t what attracted you to him. It was his passion. More specifically, his love of art.

The two of you were resting from practice. “You see (Name), art is a fleeting moment of beauty that vanishes gloriously.” Though you weren’t necessarily an artist yourself, you nodded, holding your chin like a wise old man with a long beard. “Hm, art is explosive?” “Exactly!”

Being the Tsuchikage’s niece, you had more insight than the average genin. From time to time, you’d eavesdrop in conversations between high ranking nin and your uncle. “(Name) we know you’re there..” “!!!”

Your skills as a shinobi had improved dramatically throughout the years. Still, you were forbidden from joining any type of elite force as you were still an heir. “(Name)-sama, your safety is a priority. One day, you might become the next Tsuchikage if not the Queen of your country.” “Ugh! Uncle Ōnoki will never step down. He’s too proud to choose a successor.”

Deidara reluctantly let you braid his hair. He knew you were upset and knew that this was one of your most peaceful ways of distressing. Had it been someone else, he would have blown them away. “Deidara, you’re so lucky you get to join the Explosion Corps” you sighed mournfully.

The man in questioned mediated on your words. “I like using my clay sculptures in missions—” You interrupted, “They are great.” “But I want to be greater than this. I want my art to be elevated, yeah?”

Your fingers threaded gently down his scalp, giving Deidara goosebumps from the pleasant sensation. For someone who behaved rather roughly, you sure were tender with his hair. “I heard uncle talking about one of the village’s kinjutsu. It’s only passed through generations..”

Intrigued, your blond companion shifted positions to look at your face. “Supposedly it allows users to knead chakra into objects. Perhaps with your—”

It seems Deidara was thinking the same as you. “I could combine that with my Explosion Release!” He grabbed your hands, “(Name), do you know this technique hm?” You shrugged, “No. Only when I become—if I become Tsuchikage, I’ll be taught this.”

Deidara, initially excited, slumped. “That’s too long.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his change in demeanor. “Are you in a hurry or something?”

Looking into your eyes, Deidara closed the space between you both. His stare felt intimate, speeding up your heart. “If I were to leave the village, would you come with me?”

You blinked in surprise before biting your lip guiltily. “I would love to, but I can’t. As much as I hate it, my duties lie within the village and my country.”

Deidara looked down, absentmindedly playing with your fingers. He said nothing but he didn’t have to, his actions spoke louder. “Why would you want to leave the village anyways? And, how would the two of us live a-alone?”

At your naivety, Deidara stood up ready to go but you grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait. Don’t leave me..”

“Would you be able to locate the location of the scroll that contains it, hm?” You stood up, still not releasing from. “I guess so, but why—”

“Could you just do it…please..”

Perhaps you knew from that moment what Deidara had planned but you pushed yourself to think otherwise.

As promised, you used your skills to find where the scroll was being kept before passing on that information to Deidara.

He ran his fingers up your arms before settling on your elbows. “This face.. its so beautiful it should be considered art..” one of his hands settled on your waist while the other cupped your cheek. You figured what he was trying to do and kissed him. Passionately.

It lasted a while. Before this, neither of you had made a move. There were always the longing looks and casual yet intimate touches. Everyone around you noticed the closeness between the two of you, even deciding that you’d make a good couple. “You should go to sleep.”

“Okay..” you bid him goodnight. “See you tomorrow?” He smiled, “Sure.”

It was the middle of the night when you were awoken by loud explosive noises. Some of them shook the tower in which you lived. Clicking your tongue, you detangled yourself from the covers, running towards the window.

Curses left your mouth as you connected the pieces together. “Damn him..!” He’d really done it.

You rushed to get dressed and chase after Deidara. Though you were technically not allowed to leave the village, you could sort that out with your uncle later. You struggled to put on your shoes, jumping around in the darkness with one foot while the other refused to enter the shoe.

You weren’t given the chance as shinobi filled the room. Meeting your eyes with the Tsuchikage, disappointment reflected in them. He knew. He knew that you were the one that had given Deidara the information. The two of you were practically inseparable.

Bringing your other foot down, you didn’t spare anyone a last look before running towards the window and jumping. Shinobi were quick to follow but Ōnoki stopped them. “Let her go.”

The Tsuchikage was showing you the ultimate mercy he could afford. He was never a father figure to you, he knew that Deidara was the only person left who you loved.

Besides, you were an extremely skilled nin despite not joining a special unit. It was probable you would make matters more difficult for them. Not to mention, that no one knew if you’d stolen any secret techniques either.

You tried. You desperately tried to find Deidara now that you were considered a traitor. A traitor to your country and Iwagakure. There was no use going back.

Truthfully, you were lucky the Tsuchikage allowed you to go without repercussions. Like Deidara, you were now a rogue nin without means to travel or survive.

Speaking of which, Deidara seriously considered taking you with him even if it was by force but upon further thought, he couldn’t.

You were better off without him. By stealing from the Tsuchikage, Deidara knew he’d become a traitor and a fugitive. It was safer for you to not be associated with him. Maybe you could find a prince to marry or finally become the Fourth Tsuchikage.

His heart would heal with time. Deidara would be able to forget you, your face, your mouth, your soft lips..

Two years would pass before you found information regarding the whereabouts of your beloved. Word had it that there was a bomber for hire. People’s description of this individual sounded incredibly familiar so you sought him out.

Deidara had been hired by a mysterious person. He’d been given an address to meet and discuss the deal but they hadn’t shown up.

The place was bare so it couldn’t be a trap, but as the seconds trickled by he couldn’t help but doubt. As he was about to leave, a certain figure tackled him.

Deidara had not sensed them. Were they in the room the entire time?? He could barely process this as the cloaked figure grabbed his wrist and pinned them to the side of his head.

During the struggle, the hood fell revealing the individual behind this attack. You smiled, though the anger behind your eyes was clear. “I thought..” your hands tightened around his wrists “I had made it clear that you wouldn’t leave me.”

Not a lot of time had passed but you had become even more beautiful. Deidara couldn’t help but stare. Your face showed signs of maturity; eyes sharp and those sensual lips molding into a straight line.

You had abandoned everyone, everything you knew.. for him? You’d become a traitor, a deserter, a rouge nin for his sake. Was your love for him truly that strong?

Upon spotting the tongues on his hands, you tilted your head curiously, bringing back some of your innocence.

“Well, we can work with that.”

#naruto #naruto deidara #deidara #deidara x reader #akatsuki

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vake-hunter · 4 years ago

Text

Wines Judgement Master Post

All the evidence of Wines being a Judgement in one nice place. Spoilers for Cricket Anyone and Nemesis Conclusion.

First I’d like to address some general information about Judgements. They are suns/stars and their Light makes Law. Individual Judgements have multiple names but widely they are usually connected to regency, most often being called kings or referred to other terms associated with royalty. This is noteworthy because not even Queen Victoria is referred to as a queen but rather an Empress.

Very few humans in Fallen London are ever explicitly referred to as a king. FBG is very careful with their wording and will try to only use certain words for certain things, as an example Traveller can almost always be connected to Salt and King can usually be connected to a Judgement. There are exceptions of course but they do tend to keep to these rules. Words have meaning, and FBG is very good with deciding what words they use, on purpose.

From Cricket, Anyone?

Wines has always spoken with the Royal We

Its breath is a void. Its speech is a kingdom.

A DOMAIN IN THE HIGH WILDERNESS

CREATION. DESTRUCTION. BEHOLD. You behold. HOW MAJESTY IS MADE. THIS WAS OURS.

COURTIERS REVOLVED IN OUR ROYAL ORBIT.

WE SAT AMONGST THE STARS. WE ENTERTAINED TRADERS FROM DISTANT SUNS. WE OPENED GATES. WE BROKERED FATES. WE COUNTED CITIES IN OUR PALM LIKE COINS.

Entire peoples grovel at a throne whose seat is a sunrise.

Mr Wines sobs. It is a sob that wrenches every lie apart, that calls a cosmic monarch to account. Hordes swindled, deceived, rise around the merchant king who gave a word that meant less than nothing. Armies. Legions. Defrauded. Starlight blades, and sunlight shields, and vengeance as red as the final twilight.

But isn’t Wines just a Curator-Chief?

About Curator rulers: Their chiefs are victorious, merciless pedlar-magnates.

They are called chiefs here, not kings. But in Nemesis, Mirrors was a chief and it was described as The Pedlar King.

"We would have been an excellent sovereign, were it permitted." The King lets out a long sigh, akin to its whispering voice, soft as cut silk. "But these things are only allowed to us in dreams. And I am only a king in the glass."

So Curator rulers can be called kings but Curators, even their rulers, did not have the type of power Wines confesses to having.

Firstly, that the Masters’ kind are denizens of the High Wilderness. Their hunting-grounds lie in the dark span between the stars. Occasionally, some instinct draws them together to boast of their recent bargains, trade secrets, and battle to establish primacy. Their chiefs are victorious, merciless pedlar-magnates.

Secondly, that the Masters were not Masters in the High Wilderness. Indeed, they accepted the position as emissaries of the Bazaar in order to escape misfortune, failure, and fruitlessness.

This quote makes it clear that Curator leaders do not have any specific powers, but are rather nomadic traders and warriors. I often write and compare Curator culture to other other nomadic cultures (more specifically the Shoshone as that's how I grew up).

The text used to describe Wines does not match up with what we know of Curators and it points at Wines having more power and rule than a Curator ever has been shown to have. Curator Chiefs rule other Curators.

LET OUR SUBJECTS REVEL. Dignitaries pass you, drifting through the speech, their skin stardust, their lips red with red wine. Bubbles rise from champagne seas. Things with wings, and things with diamond eyes, and things with tongues longer than time, present themselves to kiss your hand. They eat moonbeams. They drink daylight. They dance. WE REVELLED FOREVER.

Words written long ago

That is definitely not a kingdom ruled by a Curator. Along with the other text I posted in the first part, it's pretty obvious Wines was immensely powerful.

EDIT: below is probably NOT about Wines I assumed because it interacts with the Word, Broken it was but it doesn't seem to be but I'm leaving it here because it's still. Maybe connected?

In the new Magistracy of Evenlode from the Railway, we find where Wines was Judged and then ‘demoted’. There we see this:

Some of the masonry is still in place; some has fallen away. It must be pieced together. But in time you can read a title that used to be inscribed above that ancient chair:

FROM EACH HER OWN LAW;

AND NONE SHALL ESCAPE THE LAW SHE HAS MADE.

Which can be read to imply that Judgements were held accountable for following their own Laws that they made here. When you use Final Breaths to see the room as it was you get this:

The Merchant, however, had promised so much to so many people that he had to crawl on hands and knees between his promises. He could barely look up at the being that sat in Judgement.

To escape this room, he promised an even more impossible repayment, on behalf of himself, and on behalf of the Bazaar. He pressed his seal into wet clay.

A great power was humbled here; perhaps more than one.

There is also unique text if you kept the Broken Word from Cricket.

Defiance

Who cares what was said? You are too great, too extraordinary, to be fettered by intentions formed in the past. The wall crumbles under your touch. Soon you have enough room to turn around, to walk back the way you came. A felled beam of cedar blocks your way, but you kick off the ground and swim over it.

#lore #fallen london #mr wines

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blueburds · 4 years ago

Text

Of Old Relics and New Friendships

Summary: Altrethir returns from his recruitment mission, but comes back empty-handed. After settling back into base, he’s put to work. Words: 1,531

Theron took a sharp right in the Military Hangar and bumped into a couple of troops. He quickly expressed his apologies before jogging toward the elevator that’d take him to Altrethir’s personal landing zone. The Sith had finally returned from his recruitment mission, but due to Lana’s intel, the agent didn’t expect positive results.

He walked briskly down the metal bridge and onto the grassy plain where Altrethir’s ship landed. Steam hissed quietly from the vents as the ramp to the ship lowered. Theron’s heart skipped a beat when he saw his lover descend, his fists gently clenched in anticipation. Though difficult to tell from far away, Altrethir’s eyes were very much red and puffy. He wore a deadpanned expression, looking overall drained. Exhausted.

And Theron was there to meet him where the ramp met the grass. He connected the dots – it wasn’t difficult to, knowing that Thexia felt his mourning through some connection by the Force. Wordlessly the agent extended a hand, and Altrethir felt a violent churn in his gut. His pride wanted to refuse compassion, to reject it entirely and to be just by himself until he felt better. But he’d already been by himself for the entire trip home; he made only one call to confirm he was on his way back to Odessen. He didn’t even speak with Theron during that call.

After a moment of hesitation, he caved. The Sith pressed himself into his beloved’s arms and lowered his head against the crook of his neck. Theron embraced him with a protective, warm hold. Altrethir wept quietly into the fabric of his jacket.

• • •

It was mid-day; four hours had passed since Altrethir returned, and those four hours he spent collecting himself, trying to get back into his work. Aside from Theron, Lana and Thexia, no one else suspected a thing. That was what he hoped, anyway. Perhaps he was more quiet or broody than usual but no one questioned him. He’d still catch Theron’s glances from across the room; the man was concerned, but Altrethir didn’t mind. He was managing.

Taking a datapad and a totemic relic discovered by Hylo Visz’s team, the sorcerer turned and walked down the metal steps of the meeting room, heading toward the laboratory. His eyes were glued to the words on his tablet, mainly using his Force senses to guide him. But before he could reach the lab, he felt someone approaching. So he slowed the pace of his walk, looking up from the datapad and turning, “Is there something I may help you with?”

A shorter Twi’lek woman halted just feet before him, not expecting him to stop. Her skin, he noted, was the same shade of blue his own flesh was before his mutations of the Force. And her eyes, too, were the same purple hue of his uncorrupted irises. She backed up a couple of steps, “Uh- hi. Sorry, I couldn’t help but see what you’re carrying,” she gestured to the relic, and Altrethir carefully turned it within his hand. “You’re gonna take that to the lab to be picked apart and studied?”

“It will be researched by my most trusted archaeologist. He has a certain fondness for artifacts; it will be in good hands, I assure you.”

“Assurance is appreciated, but... I mean,” she huffed, muttering something to herself under her breath, “I can’t believe I’m asking, but would you consider selling it to me?”

Altrethir lofted a brow, “Of what value does this hold to you?”

The woman gave him a quizzical look, lightly canting her head to the side, “You don’t-…? Sorry- that's rude of me to assume. I figured you out of everyone here would know,” she waved a hand dismissively and gestured once more to the relic, “That’s a Kalikori. It’s something that holds a lot of sentimental value to Twi’lek families; it’s an heirloom that’s passed down generation after generation.” She pointed to one of the cubed beads dangling from the side, “A parent adds onto it, then their child does, and so on.”

The Sith’s interest was specifically piqued because he never heard of such a tradition, despite being of Twi’lek heritage himself. His parents certainly didn’t possess one of these, which lead him to consider the possibility of it being destroyed, stolen, or the concept being false altogether.

“Can you confirm that your word holds true?”

She huffed in amusement, “Show it to your archaeologist. I mean, if he’s more experienced in that sort of stuff than you, he’d definitely recognize it.”

“Very well,” Altrethir beckoned her to follow, resuming his path toward the laboratory. They walked a number of steps in silence before he spoke up once more, “You know who I am, but what do I call you?”

“Vette,” she replied, keeping up with his pace, “Just Vette.”

• • •

“Good day to you, my lord! It’s always delightful to see you.”

“Doctor Drellik,” Altrethir gave a nod with a faint smile upon his lips, “This artifact was brought to my attention recently. I wanted you to take a look at it.”

“Of course, of course! Let’s see, hm?” Doctor Talos Drellik gingerly took the totem-like relic from the Sith’s hands, turning it about carefully within his grasp. “A wooden base and cubes, but the beads look to be crafted from a sort of clay. These markings also appear Twi’leki,” he muttered as he examined it. “I do believe this is an old Kalikori, my lord! I- oh, dear. It’s not yours, is it? If that’s the case, take it back, by all means. It must be nerve-wracking to see someone else handling something so precious to you.”

Vette shot Altrethir an “I told you so” type of smirk.

“No, this does not belong to me,” the Sith took the Kalikori from the other man, “In fact, I regret to say that I’m unfamiliar with what it represents.”

Doctor Drellik smiled eagerly, thrilled to delve further into their discussion of artifacts, “Well, it’s uncertain of when exactly the tradition began. Twi’lek families pass them down through their generations, a parent adding beads onto the totem. So, this bead,” he pointed to a cube on the Kalikori that dangled at the end of the left chain, “appears to be the newest addition. Perhaps a parent was already planning to hand it down to their child?”

“A likely theory. I received it from Hylo’s crew, and she said they found it during a raid on one of Arcann’s cargo ships.”

“Then that opens up further possibilities as to how the Eternal Empire found it!”

“Or they stole it,” Vette grumbled.

“In any case, it’s not exactly some key to unlocking a super weapon, an ancient vault or anything of the sort,” Doctor Drellik continued, “What you do with it is up to you, my lord.”

Altrethir nodded, “I shall figure that out for myself. Thank you for your time – I’ll leave you to your work.”

“Anytime, my lord! If you’ve need for any other artifact inspections, you know who to ask.”

The two Twi’lek took their leave and stepped into the hallway connecting to the main meeting room. Altrethir examined the writing upon the beads, feeling a hint of shame that he couldn’t even read it. For one who wanted nothing else than to free his people, he certainly was ignorant to his own culture.

“Do we have a deal, then? I’ve got about a couple thousand credits I can pay for it,” Vette asked, interrupting his thoughts. Altrethir’s gaze softened and shifted toward her. And slowly, he passed the relic toward the woman. She blinked, “Uh- hang on, I think I’ve got all my money on me.”

“Payment is not necessary. This belongs to you, does it not?”

Vette gave a meek laugh but shook her head, “Good guess, but no. I know who it does belong to and I wanted to return it to them.”

“How kind,” he smiled faintly as she took it.

“I, uh, I wanna say: I was never huge into Sith politics, but I know what you stand for. Or, stood for. Darth Nox, right? You were the only voice of reason on the Dark Council. I never really saw Sith objecting the use of slaves in the Empire.”

“I know what the environment of slavery is like first-hand. I will always condemn the practice.”

“Yeah. I get it, believe me. That’s all to say that I admired you. I guess I still do, considering what all just happened.”

“You flatter me, truly. To be honest, my ears would always pick up on the rumors, the gossip the Council spread about me. Seldom did I receive direct positive feedback. But I never let that deter me from my goal.”

“That’s good, though. You knew you were doing the right thing despite what your peers might’ve told you.”

Altrethir smiled softly and gave her a small pat on her shoulder, “That’s what’s most important. I’ve work to tend to, but this discussion was most pleasant. I hope that we may have another opportunity to talk.”

“Yeah- absolutely,” Vette replied, a bit dumbfounded. She couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off her face, “Stay safe out there.”

#swtor fanfiction #fanfiction #this was meant to be a chapter in TRWWO but it just. didn't fit?#it's just fluff & not really all that relevant to the plot so i thought it more appropriate to post it here #takes place right after Justice by Arson

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commander-orca · 4 years ago

Text

COTW FANFICTION

CHAPTER 8: MY ANGER LOVES YOU DEARLY

It was rare for Rochalizo to feel such uneasiness in the face of a mundane situation of this kind. He knew he was the type to resist others’ bad state of minds and could ignore without too much difficulty or sympathy those who gave in to tears or panic. A few months ago, he used to be insensitive to the suffering of others, even laughing at those who felt easily pressured or sad. Few things could move him in Amonlogia, where he struggled to find his place and crossed the city from day to day, withdrawn and shut in like an oyster. Here, it was different. He had the unpleasant feeling that his shell had split open to the limit. Suddenly he was attached to anyone and was moved by everything; recent events had upset him and broken through all his emotional defenses. His promise to help the residents still stood. But he was now sure he would not come back unscathed from this adventure. After the attack by the Gerakis forces, the smallest things worried him and this weapon which he usually carried casually around his belt, forgetting it most of the time, was now found a frightening number of times in his hands, clutching at the slightest suspicious noise. He had become far more protective than he ever thought he would be, keeping an eye on the locals, counting their numbers sometimes.

The light was barely reaching his legs, which were crossed on the chair in the corner of the room; the air smelled of ink and musty. With a weak breath, he cleared away from his sight the long wick which fell on his eyes. He was in the central tower of the island, in the room used by consultants as a meeting place to discuss and deliver certain laws and decisions of average, sometimes negligible importance. This place also served as an office for filling out papers, drafting decrees and speeches. More importantly, it was the antechamber opening onto the tower’s large balcony from which the captain spoke. For half an hour already, everyone had been busy in this too small room - which, let's be honest, had real claustrophobic effects - in order to finalize the imminent speech of the leader. Papers flew in all directions, pens fluttered, consultants made a few final recommendations, their insufferable voices taking on a high pitched tone with each turn of the clock hand which throbbed in the hubbub as uncomfortable as the heat. Backed up against the wall, Suoh put up with these recommendations, head bowed, his hand gripping the wall, barely standing on his legs. He looked pale, on the verge of fainting ... Rochalizo turned his head away, feeling that familiar retching resurface.

It was with Suoh that he had been most surprised. Staying by his side had taught him patience, when he had had to refrain from putting his stupid brain back in place ... But also had somehow, developed, he reluctantly admitted, his sense of empathy. , his kindness and selflessness. Being in the company of such a loving person must have rubbed off on him. What came next wouldn't surprise anyone; he had become attached to him, his usual gentleness sometimes relieving his moments of doubt or distress. It was something that had fascinated him from start to finish; the cries, the threats, any attempt to destroy him ... He responded to all of this with doubly more destructive outbursts of kindness.

That kindness had ended up grating, though, inevitably. So much so that Suoh once asked him to teach him how to shoot. So that he could end human lives. Rochalizo hated this turnaround. He had had fun at the start, making fun of him and his unconsciousness and like a child in whom one would take pleasure in distorting their innocence, he could not help but communicate his cynicism, his sense of the opportunism. But the dreadful realization that each day the young chief began to resemble himself and his brothers, aroused in him a nauseating disgust. Suddenly he felt guilty and if he had been able to turn back time so that Suoh would forever remain an ignorant lulled in sweet delusions, he would have done so without a regret. The worst had been when he had watched him with his own eyes wield a weapon, shoot innocent people, he who was repelled by all forms of violence ... It had seemed to him at the time that by shooting these bullets in the chest soldiers, Suoh had at the same time eradicated what he had been. The former Suoh was probably dead. And the new Suoh had almost been gone. A few hopes away from being changed into a flesh doll, a moving corpse forever. Recovered, -or almost-, he had only been entitled to a few ridiculous hours of convalescence before having to resume his role. Perhaps that was why this kindness dissolved like honey in tea, because people were exploiting the resources he had, without ever sparing him or treating him.

This is why, when he saw Suoh, with a pale face and folded hands, slump against the wall and pray for the speech to be postponed, Rochalizo felt his stomach turn violently. Near the young chief, the advisers in their long sober dresses, mingled in protests and in virulent encouragements. They formed a tight circle around him, some standing, loudly indignant, others leaning over him like idle parents over-brooding their offspring. Rochalizo uncrossed his legs, getting up to approach the stage. Suoh had crouched down with his back to the wall, the top of his head was covered with his hands in despondency and his eyes were closed and constricted. Even in the shadow of his elders, his waxy complexion was striking. His disheveled hair and his wrinkled tunic were proof that he had slept too little to think of taking care of his image.The elder counselor went into a fit of nervous anger, this Kuchiba who apparently served as a mentor figure to Suoh, but who Rochalizo thought to be useful only for unnecessary stress.

"Come on Suoh, get up, you have to go!" Everyone is counting on you! He insisted, trying to pull him by the shoulders.

"You have to go anyway, they're all together downstairs already," the black-haired counselor whispered to him, crouching down next to her boss.

Suoh lowered his head into his knees. His breathing was wheezing and his fingernails hollowed out his scalp, strands of light hair pulled painfully through his fingers. His knees against each other had started to shake.

“Please,” he begged once again, “I can't do it. I'm not going to make it... "There was a short silence during which the advisers looked at each other in dismay. Kuchiba reordered his neatly stacked papers and grumbled under his breath, stunned.

"I don't understand what puts him in such an awful state...

-It can't be the stage fright, he was never really impressed by all this ... "

At the back of the room, their only view of the outside, this panorama of a grandiose blue sky offered by the opening in the clay had become dizzying. The heat waves just came in and out, wrapped around their clothes. From the lodge there was an impatient, ragged hum. There was something oppressive about the roar of the sea, coming and going.

Shinono, the youngest counselor, took a soothing voice and matched it with a hand on her shoulder.

"Suoh, answer ... Tell us what's wrong ..."

Rochalizo couldn't take it anymore. If a single stupid phrase came out of their mouths again, he was going to implode. Did they not see? In this state, nothing could be earned from him. The poor monkey was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. And a bunch of loud morons was sure to increase his agitation.

“Suoh, hey! What will people say if you-

-They won’t say shit, folks. Get away ! Rochalizo retorted, working his way through the advisers to Suoh.

His face had taken on two shades of red in anger and his irregular breathing showed that he was barely controlling himself not to give in to aggressive behaviour. With a few rustles of fabric, he joined the chef and grabbed him firmly by the arm. His annoyance worked on his strength as he managed to lift Suoh with just one effort. Suoh was so surprised he didn't say a word. The advisers now gathered around Rochalizo, watching him with a sort of admiration on his face. Poor, they were going to be disappointed.

"Can't you see he can't do it ?! Leave him alone! He snapped to their attention as he crossed the room, holding a still dazed Suoh around the waist.

Finally, the advisers seemed to understand that things were not going to turn in their favor. Their protests grew heavier. Several followed them to the door.

" Hey ! Come back! Kuchiba exclaimed, brandishing his fist in the air, "The speech should have started at least a good three minutes ago!" "

But Rochalizo was determined not to stop. He could feel it, he had to get it out of here. He crossed the threshold of the door not looking back, furious.

"Improvise your bloody speech yourself!" The only thing he's going to do is go rest! "

Rochalizo then took the direction of the hut in which Suoh dwelled, walking in determined strides. The heels of his boots clattered against the dry clay, and his sword, tied to his belt, clanged faintly in the long hanging gallery. Suoh still hadn't said a word to him; maybe he thought it was pointless. Either way, the silence sounded like elusive, crestfallen approval. He quickened his pace, convinced, and went out into the pleasantly deserted streets, since everyone had gone to the tower to hear the speech which would not be spoken.

Arrived at Suoh's, the young man heard himself sigh with relief; to be honest, he didn't really know what he had expected. Perhaps a neglected bedroom that would have allowed him to find with compelling evidence that something was wrong with him. He could not say, however, if he was more relieved than annoyed. If he listened to that little voice in his head and the way his fists clenched against his leg, he was sure he wanted to find something. Indeed, the current situation left him nothing concrete to be able to confront Suoh without appearing to be a nosy or a sentimental idiot. Rochalizo coughed to dispel his discomfort and grabbed Suoh by the shoulders, seating him on the bed, but this discomfort instead of disappearing, filled him up him like water in a bathtub. Suoh gave him a grateful look.

"Rochalizo ... Thank you".

The young man met his eyes, embarrassed. His hands tightened around the stakes on the footboards. What was to answer that? He was probably worse than those stupid advisers. Suoh was old enough to fend for himself, to support his own choices on his own, and Rochalizo had only acted like a mother hen, as if Suoh was a little child in need of a chaperone. He felt ashamed that he had behaved so impulsively and thought he understood exactly what his friend in the tower was feeling.

"Uh ... well ..." he began, rubbing the tip of his boot against the edge of the pink carpet.

But in the end, wasn't it all Suoh's fault? His index and middle finger, both set with thick golden rings, came to rest on the top of his mouth. He could not be blamed for wishing to check his condition. If Suoh had shown himself to be truly responsible, he would have made the decision to return home on his own and would have asserted himself. His tearful demeanor was causing concern to everyone around him, so it was his fault. The fool, why didn't he say anything if he felt low ?! Was he going to let everyone walk all over him until there was nothing left of him ?! Rochalizo fixed his eyes on those of the young chief, invigorated with a new irascibility. Furious, he leaned over Suoh and grabbed him by the collar violently, bringing his silly face close to his.

"WHAT WAS THAT, EH ?! CARE TO EXPLAIN WHAT HAPPENED IN YOUR HEAD ?! DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO START YOUR LITTLE BREAKDOWN ON A WHIM?! STUPID MONKEY!”

Suoh froze, scared. His eyes, wide open in dismay, did not let go of Rochalizo's. For the first time of the day, to the immense satisfaction of the marquis, these green pupils had stopped looking at him without seeing him and gave him all their attention. Suoh had stopped seeing him as the ghost of someone he could push away and lie to as he pleased. Oh because Suoh hadn't said much yet but Rochalizo knew he would try to lie to him. The smile he had given him with his thanks had already been.

"Rochalizo ...

-DONT TALK! I’M FED UP WITH YOU! "

Suoh blinked several times, stunned to be scolded like this. Rochalizo released his garment and thrust his varnished index finger into his chest. His tone of voice had dropped, but he was still speaking loudly and the nervousness in his words was palpable. He was fuming.

"Now, instead of worrying everyone, you're going to rest! I’m leaving you no choice! ”

Immediately giving shape to his words, the marquis walked around the bed and pushed aside the covers of the box spring, shook the pillow to air it out and also straightened the headboard. Suoh watched him do it, speechless. When he was done, he dragged Suoh by the shoulders to the other end of his bed and pulled the covers back over his knees.

" Lay over. Or do you want me to do that for you too?”, He mumbled, staring at a still frozen Suoh.

Suoh swallowed his lips lightly, probably in the throes of an inner dilemma. He chose still to be docile and to submit to Rochalizo's requests, if it could not be said that they were rather radical orders. His face crumpled up a bit and he proceeded to push the corners of the duvet and bedspreads between the mattress and the frame once Suoh was lying between the sheets. The action made him blush, it was strange to find himself there tucking Suoh in and especially expressing his concern to him so openly. His pride had just taken a hell of a beating ... It was also just as unsettling to be leaning over him like a protector and showing this facet of himself being... Soft? How awful... Rochalizo suddenly stepped back, his cheeks flushed.

" Is everything alright ? Suoh asked, who had just jumped from his sudden withdrawal.

"Uh ... Yeah, yeah, it's fine, it's fine ..."

Rochalizo had replied automatically. His brain took a few seconds to process their short exchange. Once again, he felt anger radiate through him.

“A minute. You’re the one asking me that ?! "Suoh hunched over like a shriveled flower, fearing another fit of anger. But the insufferable habit he had of always taking care of others to his disadvantage took over this time.

“Accept my apologies if I’ve offended you, Rochalizo. You look anxious to me, that's why I'm asking "

Rochalizo would have liked to give him scold him again, it was not the urge that he lacked and the blood still boiled in his veins to this effect. However, he could only stare at him in the whites of his eyes and crush his face into his hand. Sighing, he sat down on the side of the bed, giving Suoh barely a second to shift his legs.

"You really don't get it, you hopeless case."

Suoh straightened up on his elbows, attentive to his movements. Rochalizo imagined, knowing him, that he was already looking for a way to be forgiven. This simple thought was enough to upset him. Why was he like this? Why was Suoh just a bunch of second thoughts whose contents he’d never reveal to others? It didn't make things any easier ...

"I don't quite understand, but if it's because of the speech ...

"Obviously it's because of the speech," muttered the marquis, his head bowed, through his teeth.

"My intention was not to be a burden to you," Suoh whispered to him, after he had straightened up and he put a pale hand on his forearm, "Nor to cause you to worry. Forgive me ".

-Suoh, is that hard for you not to speak in apologies? Rochalizo cursed at him, his eyes dark.

Suoh gave him a rueful smile.

"I guess I'll drop the apologies for today."

They both let the calm of the small room overwhelm them. It was lukewarm and the down was as comfortable on the top as it was when standing inside. Rochalizo's eye was drawn to the pots of cacti that bloomed at their own pace on the shelf and the many tubs of blue flowers that were becoming more beautiful every day. Bathing in the only ray of sunlight, a miniature tomato plant gleamed quietly and grew, more fertile than ever, given a perfectly adequate amount of water. An ear of lavender, too long to be arranged, escaped from one of the open drawers of the dresser, kept in a patch of damp earth. Everything here breathed life and thrived through the care and love that was given to them. Everything ... Except one thing.

Suoh rested his head gently against Rochalizo's shoulder. It was done gradually, first because his position stiffened the back of his neck and tilting his head seemed like a good compromise. Then because he realized that words might be too much in this heated dispute caused by clumsy misunderstandings. Rochalizo surely would never admit it, but those little gestures were at fault if he didn't manage to hold it against Suoh for too long. When his cheek was pressed against his shoulder, he felt caught in the whirlwind of something bigger than himself, of a universal and unconditional tenderness that did not belong to humans.

Rochalizo did not look at him, but as he got lost in the pots of the blue flowers, had the impression that their eyes had met. His azure fingernails scraped his own thigh despite being able to do anything.

"I don't like it when you’re not looking after yourself ..."

Too fast, too recklessly, Suoh's fingers had speared his face and forced him to watch him from up close. His face surrounded by his hair was like the tall trees of a forest which covered the sky and made you lose your way. Not this scary perdition, rather this unstoppable urge to run through the woods and never come back. A powerful instinct to obey that insistent question that came to mind who whispered "What would happen if I ran away from all civilization and got lost in these woods?" Rochalizo exhaled painfully.

"Your concern is precious to me".

A smile. A simple and yet too evocative smile. In a flash, Rochalizo recognized in those cursed features the memory of an expression that had paralyzed him, that had haunted his nights these days, had even given him nightmares. For a moment, he saw the gunshots again, the murderous rifle in those white hands, the rows of helmets and iron boots, the cries and those words he heard echo every time his feet brought him back unconsciously at this location.

"No ... No, shut up, it's not concern," he gasped, breathlessly, holding back his despair, "You ... you really don't understand."

Not giving in to tears, all that remained was anger. It was the best he could do after all.

"There is no one more inconsiderate than you! Can't you see you're screwing yourself up ?! And for whom? For a herd of ungrateful people who don't even see how much you sacrifice yourself for them! "

His face slipped out of Suoh's reach but Rochalizo didn't back down. He confronted him with fierce aplomb. Suoh was the one who looked down at this accusation he couldn't afford to deny.

"It is the role of the leader of the Whale, I cannot oppose it-

-Who is preventing you ?!

- ... But I'm happy. I am happy to offer myself to its inhabitants ... "Suoh continued, ignoring his interruption," I don't think this is a sacrifice.

-So you are completely blind!”, Rochalizo exploded, his eyes so dilated they looked like they were going to disappear.

His breathing heavy, he resumed, swallowing behind clenched teeth:

“You are just a puppet that they use to ensure the obedience of the people. They steal your life away with all their prohibitions. And in the meantime, they let you destroy yourself. But by carrying on like this, you will soon be incapacitated. And all those people you care about so much, they're all going to DIE ”.

Suoh flinched and jumped back suddenly, as if the Marquis had just burned his face with a tinplate. He clenched his fists, his fingernails sunk so deeply into his palms that he was quickly seized with a sharp pain. He couldn't understand. Rochalizo was just a foreigner. He hadn't grown up here. He knew nothing of the ties that bound the inhabitants to each other or to this island, nor of this ineffably sacred responsibility which had become his.

“No one else is going to die,” Suoh bellowed, “You don't know what you're talking about!

-Of course I know!

-No, you who fleed your country like an egoist, you know nothing of what I feel! I could die for them! Suoh yelled at him, his face twisted in frustration, trembling with fury, his mouth twisted.

He was about to hear Rochalizo and counter whatever he said, to say something else, maybe something that could be hurtful. Something that could have convinced him that what he was claiming. But Rochalizo stopped screaming. He lowered his head and grabbed his hands, crushed them in his.

"You fool ... Can't you see? I don't want you to die ”.

Suoh fell silent. Then the origin of the problem suddenly became clear to him. Slowly approaching Rochalizo, he pressed his forehead to the top of his head. The young man bore the same smell as him, the smell of milk. Why had Suoh said all those mean things? He belonged here, with them.

"It won't happen, Rochalizo".

Rochalizo gripped Suoh's face aggressively once again. This time his voice was sharp, threatening.

"Don't even dare to promise me such things!" It was only a few days ago when you ran towards the soldiers and ... I ... ", he shook his head to keep from thinking back to those terrifying events," I forbid you to speak of death as lightly as you do! "- he tightened his fist next to his face -" Suoh, in truth I do not care about your story of sacrifice. All I'm trying to tell you is ... Take care of yourself better than that! You have no idea what you're doing to yourself! Do you think you can live on sleepless nights, non-stop services to others and the punishments that you inflict on yourself ?! By neglecting your health ?! "

Suoh blinked, shocked, breathless. Even if he had wanted to speak, the words would not have come out.

" Lay over. I will not repeat it. "

Rochalizo got up from the bed, pretending that this exchange of screams hadn't happened. Staring down at him, he stared at him sternly, arms crossed, waiting for Suoh to do as he ordered. Suoh couldn't move for a few seconds. It seemed to him that Rochalizo's gaze pierced his skin like a million flamethrowers. The young chef quickly lay down and pulled the covers to his neck. Then Rochalizo came back to him and knelt at his bedside. He took Suoh's hands back in his and buried his face onto the mattress.

“You, forgive me. I didn't mean to scare you. You know very well that it is not against you that I am screaming ”.

Suoh slowly nodded. A slight piteous smile split his cheeks. His hand trailed tenderly through Rochalizo's hair.

"I didn't want to admit it but I'm afraid you're right ..."

Rochalizo looked up hopefully in his direction.

"Maybe thinking about myself once in a while would help, but ... I've always put others before me. I don't know how to take care of myself and ... I don't know if I would get any satisfaction from it ... "

Rochalizo smiled back and his eyes closed on his lids. His mocking sneer echoed through the room, but his face was marked with an unusual solar glee.

"Lucky you that I’m a selfish person then. Because I happen to know a ton of ways ”.

Suoh stared at his face, dazzled by Rochalizo's smile and he felt a familiar form of peace wash over him. For the first time, he was letting someone lift up the hearts and lighten up the mood for him. And he felt good. It was a small start, but it was a start.

#cotw #cotw fanfiction #fanfiction #rochalizo #suoh #suou #rohalito #knk #Kujira no Kora #Kujira no Kora wa Sajou ni Utau #children of the whale #children of the Whales #les enfants de la baleine

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trvelyans-archive · 5 years ago

Text

past and present

a comm for the wonderful @dauntless-necromancer of morrigan and kieran and their warden elrich cousland <3 thank you for commissioning me !

also for context because i didn’t post the first one, in this fic morrigan and kieran live in the mountains while elrich is searching for a cure for the calling ! and kieran’s a teen now, iconic ! i hope you enjoy !!! <3

It was just supposed to be a walk.

Kieran often walked across the mountain vistas surrounding his and Mother’s new home – it was his only escape whenever they were in an argument or she needed a few hours alone after receiving another letter from Father with bad news. He had a few paths he liked to walk the most, but sometimes he explored a little further than the last time; a little higher up the cliffs than he was able to reach when he was younger.

He was 19 after all, now, and growing into his own. He was a short child – he hadn’t been taller than Mother until he was 14 or 15 - but now that he was (finally) an adult, he was gangly. (At least that’s what Mother said.) He had strong arms and legs, plenty strong enough to be able to pull himself up and over the higher ledges on the mountains, but they looked thin and ropy, and Mother always told him that he was much stronger than anyone would ever assume he was at a glance.

“Which isn’t entirely a bad thing,” she’d said after, kissing him on the forehead as she brushed past him to reach the cupboards where they stored their herbs while they two of them made dinner. “It will be much easier for you to take them by surprise that way, after all.”

She said that with a twinkle in her eye, then, and that always made everything better.

Today, though, things were different. Kieran left in a huff after they’d gotten into another one of those arguments they seemed to have every couple of days at that point – there were messages and letters from Father that Mother sometimes kept quiet despite Kieran practically begging to see them, and he had had enough. He wanted promises too, after all. He wanted Father to tell him that he was okay, that things were okay, that he would return to his family one day soon when his work was finished. He didn’t want to hear it from Mother – of course she would tell him that. She would do everything for him.

Or… most things, at least. Except read him Father’s letters or let him write one of his own in return.

So he left, wrapped up in his favourite cloak with a full waterskin, a pack full of food, and a journal that Father had sent him several years, and Mother stood at the doorway, watching him go with a frown on her face. He was entirely intent on returning before evening fell – because, really, there was no where to go - when he found himself stuck in the middle of a blizzard.

A few years ago, when he was younger, he would have been much more scared of being stuck out in the snow by himself. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t scared this time – he was, especially because he quickly realized that he accidentally forgot his warmest mittens back home – but he knew how to deal with this kind of thing much better.

After all, there wasn’t much else to do up in the mountains but explore. Read, write. Take a walk.

Get caught in a blizzard.

He laughed to himself and pulled his hood up higher over his face, trudging through the quickly rising snow into a thick grove of pine trees. On every couple of branches, every couple of trees, hung little clay ornaments Kieran sometimes made when he was desperately bored in the middle of summer, and the sight of the few that he could tell were made by Mother calmed him a little. Blizzards ebbed and flowed quite often up here in the mountains, so it would only take an hour or so for this portion of it to pass. Of course, that meant Kieran had to take shelter somewhere to wait it out safely, but he did not mind very much. It just gave him time to think about the letter he would write Papa when he returned home, whether or not Mother wanted him to or not.

She didn’t have to know…

Not that he liked keeping secrets from Mother. She was all he had – for now, at least, until Papa would join them in the mountains one day soon and they’d be together again – and they had to trust each other to stay alive. They were as close as a mother and her child could possibly be, she always said. They had respect for one another, even though they had seen each other in their lowest moments, and they tried not to keep any secrets between them, no matter how dark or scary they were.

No secrets, and yet she always hid Father’s letters.

Kieran frowned. He wasn’t going to apologize first this time.

After all, he always needed some sort of distraction nowadays to keep him from dwelling on all the thoughts in his mind; so he could ignore the voices that he sometimes heard at the back of his head even though he knew no one was behind him. Though Mother didn’t like to talk about it very much, there was something different about him – something that had always been different about him. For the longest time, he thought it was normal, that everyone felt that way – especially after he had gone to Skyhold with Mother to meet the Inquisitor and tried to befriend some of the other children there - but around the time he turned 17, Mother sat him down and told him… well… a lot. A lot of things he never expected to hear but also, somehow, that he saw coming at the same time.

He huffed as he leaned against a tree and slid down into the snow, pulling his cloak around his body and swinging his pack down from his shoulders to hug it against his chest. He had a book in his bag, but he wasn’t content on bringing it out right now – the snow would surely melt against the pages, and he had no intention on smearing the ink when his books were the few prized possessions he actually had. Instead he tipped his head back against the tree and looked up, at the flurries of flying snow, at the muted grey sky beyond them.

And then, somehow, he fell asleep.

He did not wake up on the mountain.

The first thing he thought when he awoke and his vision cleared was that, somehow, he was actually very thankful he hadn’t brought his warmest mittens along. They would have made his current condition much, much worse, as every other part of his body was sweating.

He squinted as he glanced up, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming through the leaves in the trees – not pine needles, he noted, actual leaves – and staring into the sky. There was no trace of any clouds above him, grey and stormy or otherwise, and, in fact, it seemed like quite a beautiful day. So beautiful, in fact, that he was lulled into a foolish sense of security for a moment before bolting upright.

He was far, far away from home.

Before he started moving, he shed his heavy coat and draped them over his arm after pushing up the sleeves of his shirt but left his cloak on, pulling his hood higher up over his face. He could not remember if it was summer or not – he often forgot such things because they lived so high up in the mountains that the seasons didn’t mean much besides it being slightly colder in Wintermarch and vaguely warmer in Justinian - so perhaps he had no reason to be too worried. It could be that he was somewhere in the foothills of the Frostbacks and it’d only take a week or so to return to Mother – well, if the weather held out like this…

But he knew the treacherous roads of the Frostbacks as well as anyone, and he knew well enough that once he reached higher altitudes the trek would become much harder.

So, then, knowing that, perhaps instead of a week it would be more like… three. Give or take a few days for the weather, any issues with the roads, and especially considering that he wasn’t certain he was in the foothills, anyway. After all, the terrain felt much different; the flora was unlike anything he had seen in recent memory. Based off of his knowledge of the world alone, he could’ve been in… the Free Marches. He could’ve been in Orlais. He could’ve been anywhere.

And everywhere, right now, seemed very far away from home.

But there was no point in worrying about it in the meanwhile, at least not until he started moving and got a sense of where he was. He couldn’t undo… whatever it was that had just happened – or, at least, it was very unlikely he could undo it, especially since he didn’t know how it had happened in the first place - and sitting here, dwelling on it and twiddling his thumbs meant he was wasting precious time. Kieran heaved a heavy sigh and started off towards a gap in the trees, figuring that it was as good a place as any to start.

Kieran liked to consider himself an optimistic person – he had forced himself to be when he started growing older - but after only a few minutes, he was beginning to realize just how much he sounded like his mother.

That hurt more than he wanted it to.

Thankfully he had his waterskin, and a book in his bag he could read if he got bored. This was not the type of forest he was used to – there were no swollen roots or long, overhanging branches – and, if he felt so inclined, he could probably take out his book and read while he walked without it slowing him down too much. Perhaps tomorrow he’d take his mind off of things by reading while he travelled – that is, of course, if he didn’t have to use his book as kindling tonight. Which made him feel… more miserable, somehow.

He was out of the forest within an hour, and across a meadow in the next. The cloak was slowing him down slightly – it was heavy, thick wool – but he thought it would be best to keep his face hidden for now, even as he descended down a short hill into another thicket of oak trees. Pausing, he leaned against a tree and pulled out his waterskin, uncorking the top and tilting his head back to pour a stream of water into his mouth.

When he felt the tip of a knife against the back of his neck, he couldn’t help but choke.

He recovered quickly, though, and wiped his mouth on the back of his neck while he turned around slowly with his hands raised in defense (one still holding his waterskin, which he was dangerously close to spilling).

“Ah,” the man said quietly. He was an elf, with tanned skin and golden hair, and though he was considerably shorter than Kieran and quite a bit smaller, the knife at Kieran’s throat didn’t do anything to make him feel less intimidated. “I must admit… you looked much more threatening from behind.”

Kieran frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that perhaps I should not run you through right now,” the man replied, taking a short step back. “Not that I was planning to, really – the man in charge would not approve – but, if you had posed a threat… well, the thought crossed my mind.”

Kieran crossed his arms over his chest. He could be plenty threatening. This man didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Who’s this ‘man in charge’ you’re speaking about?” he asked.

The man laughed, and Kieran felt his annoyance grow even stronger. “I do not think I am at liberty to disclose that information to anyone quite yet,” he said. “At least not without getting a fair punishment in return. Saying that, I do suggest you move along – some of our friends are, well… not very open to strangers, and –“

“Zevran?”

A woman stepped out from behind the elf, a woman with bright orange hair and a medium build who looked unsettlingly familiar. “Who’s this?” she said, eyes narrowing and nose wrinkling.

“Perhaps a bandit,” Zevran said. “Does not quite look the type, to me anyway, but appearances can be deceiving, no?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “He’s probably just a villager from the nearby town,” she told the elf before turning to Kieran. “Is there something wrong? Have you lost your parents to the Blight?”

The Blight?

The Blight was almost 20 years ago now – the Blight, Mother said once, is the reason Kieran was born in the first place; the reason he had the abilities to read things and feel things the way he did.

How did he end up here?

“No,” he answered hesitantly. “I mean… Yes, I have. My mother and father are…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t quite know exactly what to say.

“I am sorry to hear that,” the woman said, taking a step closer. “Would you like me to keep them in my prayers tonight?”

Zevran, the elf, cleaned the flat side of his blade with his thumb, never taking his eyes off Kieran.

“Yes, I would appreciate that very much.” Kieran shifted uneasily on his feet, glancing at the woman from underneath his low-hanging hood. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?”

“I am Leliana.” She smiled at him. “And you are…?”

Leliana. Of course. Kieran remembered Leliana well from his time in Skyhold – she had been in several strongly-worded discussions with Mother late at night when she stopped by their quarters. She looked younger, now – happier. And much, much less tired.

Kieran knew that time travel was a possibility – he’d heard some rumours about Tevinter Magisters travelling through time several years ago – but he wasn’t well-versed in how it worked enough to be able to have done this himself.

There had to be a reason he was here, and he was determined to figure it out.

“Kier,” he said after realizing she was waiting for a response. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Leliana.”

“You, as well.” She glanced over at Zevran. “See? He’s not a bandit. If he is, he’s certainly better at conversation than the rest of them.”

“Yes, yes, he is a wonderful conversationalist,” Zevran replied. “However, Leliana, I do believe we have duties to attend to, hm?”

“Ah, yes!” Leliana offered Kieran a dazzling smile. “Well, I’m sorry about your parents, Kier. May the Maker watch over you.”

Leliana and Zevran had been two of his parents’ companions during the Blight. Leliana was one of the few people who had tried to reach out to Mother after her and Kieran left the Inquisition following the defeat of Corypheus, even if they had never quite become friends. If they were here, that must have meant his parents were around, too.

And he wanted so badly to see them, to see what they were like when they were younger…

“Do you have room for another person to travel with you?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

And Kieran thought Mother was suspicious of outsiders now. After seeing what she was like during the Blight, he’d never think that again.

It had been a few days of travelling with them – which still felt incredibly weird and alien to him – and though she glared at him less and less in camp, she still glared at him every chance she got. It made him feel sick to his stomach to see her glaring at him like that, and each time she did he felt like there was something he needed to apologize for.

There was, really, a whole list of things to say sorry about. I’m sorry for not respecting your privacy. I’m sorry for letting my emotions get the better of me. I’m sorry that I just miss Father so much –

And then, well, he stopped finding things to apologize for and instead found things he wanted her to apologize for, so it was a little bit of a moot point. Especially because this wasn’t the right version of his mother he had to apologize to.

And perhaps he wasn’t helping by always keeping his hood up in camp, but there was nothing else he could do, really. He couldn’t very well wear a mask without arousing even more suspicion. And though Leliana took a shining to him, and Zevran was about as nice to him as Kieran wanted, Mother and Father – or Morrigan and Elrich as he had begun to force himself to call them – didn’t pay very much attention to him at all. They were too wrapped up in each other to notice.

While he sat in the opening of his makeshift tent, he watched them. It was nice – in his time, he had only seen them together when he was a young child, and he scarcely remembered any of those times very well. But here, during the Blight, they talked and sat together. Even if they didn’t sit too closely or too intimately – even if Morrigan kept her distance – they were… together. And that was what mattered to him, really, in the end, even if he couldn’t be a part of it. He just wanted his parents to be together and for him to see it. It made him happy when they acted like a real, true family.

They hadn’t done that in a very long time.

Besides that, though, there was still a tension between his parents that he couldn’t deny, but he didn’t quite know why it was. He’d known that his grandmother – whatever she was, in the end – wasn’t very kind to his own mother, but he didn’t understand how that affected her. After, Father was sitting beside her in front of the fire with a hand in the short space between their bodies, and Kieran could tell he wanted to reach out for her. So why didn’t he? And if he did, why wouldn’t Mother let him?

One night, when rain trickled down from wispy gray clouds and left a thin mist over the camp, he sat in the mouth of his tent as always, watching them, and this time he was close enough to hear.

“… Even you aren’t immune to my charms, are you, Morrigan?”

Morrigan glanced away, down at her hands. “I am immune to every man’s charms, Elrich,” she answered.

“You don’t have to be,” he said softly.

She looked over at him and smirked, but Kieran could tell there was a sadness behind it – a sadness he had seen himself in their time. “Oh?” she said. They were sitting closely together – much closer than Morrigan sat with anyone else in camp – but she wasn’t close enough to rest her head on his shoulder or hold his hand. “You think you know everything I’ve been through, do you?”

“No,” Elrich responded, “I didn’t say that. I meant, rather, that you don’t have to be immune to every man’s charms – certainly not mine.”

Morrigan sighed. “Have we not been over this enough?” she asked quietly.

“We have,” Elrich answered before offering up a small, sad smile of his own. (Kieran realized how much he looked like his father, in that moment – the colour of his eyes, the shape of his hair. He used to look much more like his mother as a child, but now the gentle slope of his jaw had turned sharp, and he had to shave quite often in the golden looking glass Mother had displayed in her room.) “I just thought I would remind you.”

“Your reminders are… welcome.” She stood up suddenly, reaching up to adjust the cloak around her neck so it hung more tightly across her shoulders and chest. “I should turn in for the night.”

“I should, too.” Elrich stood up beside her and tilted his head down to look at her, eyes roaming across her face for a long moment before he backed away with a slow, approving nod. “Goodnight, Morrigan.”

“Sleep well,” she said, turning on her heel and heading back towards her tent. Not without shooting Kieran another glare, first, but this time he didn’t care. He pulled his hood higher over his head and inched back into camp, closing the tent doors behind him.

There must have been some reason that Morrigan did not feel safe initiating a relationship with Elrich – there must have been something to inevitably draw them together, as well. The rings that his mother and father both wore in his time were not worn by either of them right now, so he supposed that that should have been his first step.

After he got some sleep, of course.

As always, his dreams were plagued with phantom faces looming over him and shadows that slunk into darkness at the corners of his eyes. Voices that somehow sounded distant and close at the same time whispered in his ear, and he could feel the ground vibrate with every step one of the blurry figures took towards him from a cloud of dense, green fog. Some of it was Elven – he had known how to speak it since he was a child – and some of it sounded older; more ancient. He knew what the language was and who it belonged to, but he just couldn’t put it into words for himself. This is how he had slept every night. And as always, when he finally awoke, his brain was tied into knots that took him several long moments to pull apart so he could finally breathe again.

It helped to have Mother around to sing him lullabies when he woke up. He suspected he would not be able to ask her now unless he wanted to risk being flayed alive.

That day, the voices echoed in his head as they climbed small mountain in the foothills of the Frostbacks (too far away from Mother for him to turn tail – he didn’t think it would work, anyway). They were heading for Orzammar, Elrich had told Kieran that morning when he emerged from his tent covered in a thin sheen of sweat. They had business with the Dwarves to attend to. Kieran was neither pleased nor displeased at the announcement – it gave him time to figure out with the words floating around in his head meant; what exactly they were trying to tell him to do.

It was hard when Elrich kept asking questions.

Not that Kieran didn’t want to talk to him - he really, really did. After all, that’s what had gotten him into this in the first place. It was just... well, this was the wrong version of his father to talk to, and he didn’t want to give anything away.

But his emotions won out, in the end - instead of telling him to leave him alone like he should’ve, he sat down around the fire with him and made breakfast. Well, watched Elrich make breakfast.

“So, are you from Ferelden?” Elrich asked, glancing over at Kieran.

“Yes,” he answered.

Elrich smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges with amusement. “You don’t sound Fereldan,” he commented. “Can’t imagine this is a very nice time to see the country.”

He sounded the same as he always had - dignified, confident, and most of all kind - but his voice was much higher, and Kieran couldn’t help but snicker at how hard his father was trying to sound mature.

“Well, the company is good,” Kieran replied. “I cannot get any safer than I am travelling with two Grey Wardens.”

Elrich leveled an even, unflinching stare at him, though Kieran could see a flash of fear in his eyes. “You know?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kieran said. “It’s not that hard to tell, really.”

Elrich laughed. “What gave it away? The Griffon breastplate?”

Kieran laughed, too, and then realized how much it sounded like his father’s and stopped. “Perhaps,” he said. “My mother always says - er, said - that I’m very observant.”

“Well, your mother sounds like she was a smart woman.” Elrich pulled the pot of soup off of the fire and set it on the ground, where it melted the thin layer of snow around it.

“She was,” Kieran replied, tilting his head to hide his smile.

“What happened to her?” Elrich questioned. “Darkspawn?”

“You could say that,” Kieran responded.

“I’m sorry.” Elrich scooped a spoonful of porridge into a bowl and handed it to Kieran. “If it makes you feel any better, something worse than Darkspawn killed my parents.”

Kieran flinched. He knew what happened to his father’s parents, but he and his mother had always agreed that, selfishly, they were slightly thankful - they would not be here if it wasn’t for them. However, hearing his father talk about it now, when the wound was still fresh... it hurt.

Especially because Kieran felt the same.

“I’m sorry,” Kieran murmured, looking down into his bowl while his eyebrows drew together in thought.

“It’s alright,” Elrich replied. “Thank you, though, anyway. I do hate the Darkspawn - more than anything. I hate them for destroying beautiful Ferelden land and killing villagers - like your parents. I hate that they’re leaving young people without a family.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” Kieran pointed out with a laugh.

“True.” Elrich spooned some porridge into his own mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m trying my best to be strong, but... it can be hard sometimes. Knowing that I carry the weight of the country on my shoulders, that so many people’s lives are in my hands...” He swallowed hard, glancing down at his bowl with a bitter laugh. “I suppose I shouldn’t be complaining. Things have turned out better for me than they do for most, and with any hope, this should all be over soon so I can...” He cleared his throat. “Settle down once more.”

Kieran winced and hoped Elrich didn’t notice - he had no idea how much longer he would have to wait to do the settling he wanted.

“You’re doing a great job,” Kieran offered quietly, than quickly added, “from what I have seen so far, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Elrich smiled at him. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

“Just... make sure you don’t lose sight of what is most important.” Kieran let out a gentle sigh, losing himself in his thoughts. “Family. The people you hold dear. They are what you’re protecting, after all.” He frowned. “They are worth more than anything.”

“That they are,” Elrich replied, then glanced over to where Morrigan’s tent was opening. His eyes lit up, and a hopeful smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Speaking of which... I need to go speak with Morrigan. Excuse me.”

He stood up slowly as he assembled a second bowl of porridge, and when he hurried over to Morrigan and handed it to her, she stared at it for a long, long moment before taking it tentatively from his hands and smiling up at him. A small smile, but a smile nevertheless.

Kieran looked away, ignoring the ache in his heart.

He packed up his own tent, rolled it up, and watched as everyone prepared for the day - Leliana stretching in a warm patch of sunlight, Zevran sharpening his knife with his tongue between his teeth. They looked so normal and calm - Kieran had no idea how they did it. Although, he thought, they didn’t know what was going on in his head either - they probably wouldn’t be able to live with the thoughts and the voices as well as he did.

That made him feel better, at least.

At midday, when the sun was at it’s highest point, they were about to begin ascending a mountain pass towards Orzammar - the first of many, he remembered, having studied the map of the Frostbacks several hundred times - when, suddenly, they heard a guttural roar in the distance and a burst of flames blazed across the path in front of them, leaving melted snow and charred rocks in their wake.

A dragon.

No wonder the voices had been so loud.

Up ahead, everyone drew out their weapons, but Kieran kept back – he had nothing more than a simple dagger Leliana had given him, and he wasn’t sure he could wield it efficiently enough. Wynne, the older mage who came from the Circle of Magi, summoned an ice field to separate the dragon from the group while Leliana notched one of her arrows and aimed it at the creature’s neck.

It swooped down in front of the group. Alistair and Zevran rushed forward to slash at it, led by Elrich, and Wynne and Leliana attacked from the sidelines while Morrigan watched, creating a dark purple sphere of shifting magic in her hands that she flung at the dragon with unnatural power. It wailed and wailed but did not relent, reaching out to swipe at them again, but Elrich got a hit in before it could hurt any of the party.

Kieran pulled his hood higher up over his head, unsure of what to do.

Zevran and Alistair continued assaulting the beast’s legs while Elrich slid underneath its stomach, hacking at the dragon’s underbelly which seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dark, heavy scales. Morrigan and Wynne flung balls of spirit magic at it over and over in quick succession, and Leliana aimed her arrows to try and pierce the dragon’s eye – they bounced off like flimsy pieces of metal, but she did not give up. They were shouting at each other over the roaring – directions and suggestions and cries that the others stay safe or be careful – and none of them seemed to notice that Kieran was not joining the effort. If they did, they didn’t notice.

At one point, deep into the battle, Morrigan hurried to Elrich’s side and casted a shield around him while Wynne tended to his wounds. Though their faces had all been creased with battlehardened lines, when his mother and father looked at each other in fear, Kieran could see a fear there. After Elrich had been healed and stood up on shaky legs to attack the creature again, Morrigan held him back by the arm. When he turned around to look at her, a bolt of lightning came forth from the tip of her staff and struck the beast on the nose. A current of electricity tore through it.

The dragon let out a guttural cry and reared up on its hind legs, futilely lashing out at the party, but they all stumbled back from its reach before it could land a blow. It squirmed and thrashed in the cold air, claws scraping the rocks on either side for leverage, before it finally slumped down onto the rocky ground, chest heaving as it took one last breath until it lay there, dead.

A tired cheer echoed through the mountain pass, and the party looked at one another, giving them relieved smiles or grateful pats on the shoulder.

Except for Elrich and Morrigan, who were hugging tightly.

Kieran smiled.

He hadn’t seen that for a long, long time.

That night he lingered in the mouth of his tent like always, pretending to sharpen his dagger while he listened to his parents talk around the fire.

Well, there wasn’t much talking. They set up camp a few hours after slaying the dragon so everyone could tend to their wounds, and Morrigan never left Elrich’s side while Wynne stitched up the larger ones that Morrigan said she didn’t want to touch. She didn’t leave his side through dinner, either, and now, in the dark of night when neither of them were supposed to still be awake, she held his hand tightly, staring into the fire.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a laugh, nudging her shoulder with his.

“Considering whether or not to flay myself alive,” she answered with a slight smirk.

“Always so dark,” Elrich said, shaking his head while he chuckled.

Suddenly, Morrigan turned to him, a crease between her eyebrows. “I have something for you,” she said, blinking.

“What do you mean?” he asked with a grin.

“I mean that I have a gift for you,” Morrigan said. She reached over to her pouch, where she slid her hand inside while keeping her eyes trained on him, and then fished out a smaller pouch from inside. “’Tis… a ring. Now, before you get any foolish notions, let me explain.”

Except she said nothing further until Elrich prompted her with a nod of his head.

“Yes, um… Flemeth once gave me a ring because it allowed her to find me wherever I went, in case I was ever captured by hunters.” She passed it back and forth between her hands. “I disabled its power as soon as we left the Wilds. Recently, however, I thought to change it. Now…” Morrigan glanced up at him. “I will be able to find whoever wears it, instead.”

Elrich tilted his head, reaching out to place his hands over hers. “That’s a sweet gift,” he said. “Thank you.”

She blushed. “’Tis not given out of sentimentality,” she said. “I believe you are too important to risk. If you were captured, the ring would allow us to find you quickly.”

“Does it do anything else?”

Morrigan pulled it out of the bag and looked at it, squinting slightly. “Flemeth used to say it was a link between us; one that I presumed worked both ways. I never tested it, but I doubt she would have lied over such a thing. So it would mean that I am linked to you as much as you to I.”

He inched closer, taking it from her gently. “So I could find you, if need be?”

“I… do not know.” She frowned. “As I said, I never tested it. Perhaps.”

“I’m glad to know you care,” he told her.

To Kieran’s surprised, she looked offended. “D-do not read more into it than is there,” she said. “You have supplied me with equipment, certainly this is not very different, is it?”

“Thank you for the gift, Morrigan,” Elrich replied, placing it in the palm of his hand and curling his fingers tightly around it.

“You… are welcome,” Morrigan replied, clearing her throat. “Perhaps it will be useful some day.”

They said very little after that – instead they sat beside each other, arms and legs and shoulders touching like they were connected at the waist.

Occasionally, Kieran could see his father glancing down at the ring and smiling.

Elrich retired to his tent first that night, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear before leaving, and just when Kieran thought that perhaps his mother was going to follow, she didn’t. Instead she turned around and frowned at him.

“Enjoy listening to other people’s conversation, do you?” she asked, stalking over to his tent and looking down at him.

“No,” Kieran answered, wrinkling his nose. “I respect other people’s privacy.”

“You don’t fool me,” Morrigan said. Though it was said harshly, Kieran didn’t think it was an accusation. “There’s something you’re not telling everyone else – they have not noticed, but I have. Why are you travelling with us?”

“I had to,” Kieran replied, staring her down for a moment before shuffling into his tent and closing the entrance tightly behind him.

He woke up, to his surprise, in his own bed back home with the same woman leaning over him.

“Foolish boy,” Mother was muttering, tucking in his blanket between his bed and the wall. “Foolish, foolish boy.”

“Mother?” Kieran asked, pushing himself up from the bed.

Mother glanced over at him and sighed. “How could you scare me like that?” she asked quietly. “You could have frozen half to death, or –“

“I’m fine, Mother,” Kieran said.

“No, you’re not. You nearly have frostbite. Foolish, foolish boy – what will I do with you?”

“Mother,” Kieran began, “I would like to write father a letter.”

Mother stopped what she was doing, hesitating for a long moment before turning towards him. “I don’t think that is a good idea,” she replied softly.

“I want to write him a letter,” Kieran insisted. “I know you don’t want me to be disappointed that he has not returned to us yet, but I won’t be. I’m more disappointed that I haven’t heard from him in several months.”

“Well, neither have I.” Mother frowned, looking down at her wrinkled hands. “He is far away from here. He’s alive, but I… I fear he might not be for much longer.”

“He will be.” Kieran drew his chin up. “I know he will be. I can feel it. And I would like to write a letter to him.”

Mother sighed once more and glanced over at him, and just when he thought she was going to get mad, her lips curved into a wickedly pleased smile.

“Very well,” she responded. When she moved to stand, Kieran followed, but she waved her hand at him in exasperation. “You stay here,” she said, smiling. “I will bring it to you. You need your rest.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Kieran said, smiling. “I love you.”

Mother squinted at him. “Perhaps you hit your head as well.”

“Mother!”

“I am just kidding,” she said. “I love you too, you foolish, foolish boy. Now lie down.”

When Mother left, closing the door softly as to not disturb him, Kieran’s eyes fluttered shut despite himself, and he nestled down beneath the blankets, already thinking about what he would – and definitely should not – write to his father about.

#my writing #my commissions #warden x morrigan #cousland x morrigan #i'm nervous for this one !!! i hope u enjoy it i love them <3

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honestsycrets · 5 years ago

Text

Endure It | [ Siggy x Alfred ]

❛ pairing | Alfred the Great x Siggy Bjornsdottir

❛ type | drabble

❛ summary | siggy isn’t sure she should be waiting for alfred. alfred’s less inclined to worry. “and yet, here we are again.” answered.

❛ warnings | inter-show pairing, sexual content

❛ sy’s notes | listen, i’m sort of feeling robbed from a norwegian vikings x saxon family line, okay? if hirst wasn’t so far up bjorn’s butt maybe i could have had it. so some siggy (whhhyyy) and alfred being together. i’m sorry that i haven’t been posting-- and that this is honestly not a reader insert.

Standing before these great doors, rolling her fingers in and out of anxious fists, awaiting her the double doors to throw open after the day’s chaotic events riverside. Her uncle felt a world apart in the calm waters, while she stood beside her grandmother, and equally great father whose wretched sneer and sharp spittle had mocked the foundation of Christianity.

She glances from the door to the guards posted like two statues of clay, unmoving and serious. No answer at the door yet, and her hand comes to the pendant of Thor around her wrist, turning it over once, then twice, and on the third her feet shift over the stone steps. The door whooshes open by the guard’s hands, followed by his silken, serious voice wafting gently in her ear. “Hurry in, Siggy.”

In swift steps, he follows her inside. For a moment she almost forgot how to walk, guided by his tender hands around her waist. teasing her soft pale hair. The doors slam shut with a powerful, all-consuming thud. “We shouldn’t be doing this. Uncle and… my stepmother, after what you’ve made them give up… Bjorn.” she says, the voice of reason to an otherwise careless man driven on by the adrenaline of sneaking behind an undoubtedly powerful man. Her palms tun together, sweat clinging from one to another.

“Shh,” he shushes her, so powerfully that it stops her words where they were. “And yet, here we are again,” Alfred strips his cloak over a posh seat, watching as her head shift into a sea of lovely blonde locks. She chews on the thought as if its some betrayal to her father, and maybe it is, maybe all of this was a sort of betrayal to her heathen ways. Maybe Freyja mocked her choice.

But he needs her. It can’t last forever, not without addressing Bjorn Ironside or angering the foundation of everything his grandfather united. Alfred tilts his head, his long curls bobbing around his jaw. She looks at home here. Her hair is let down, long at her waist, barefoot as if she belonged here.

“What if he notices,” she whispers as if Thor’s eyes were woven into the walls. The warm light bounces against her skin, highlighting the angles of her young, worried face. Her clammy hands part, and she runs her hand over her long white skirts.

“He won’t. He’s preoccupied,” Alfred slips behind her, and eases his hands over the white nightdress. King Alfred sighs, letting his thumb run across ripples in the ties along the neckline. At last he lands on the bow, and draws it loose. Her hand raises to grip his hand. He’s never realized how small she is, but toned with the work she does, battling like her grandmother, like a shieldmaiden. She’s most beautiful when she’s here, lit by semi darkness, lighting her pale skin warm. “He’s sleeping with her.”

Her hand loosens, giving him opportunity. Alfred guides the thin fabric down over her small breasts, down over her flat stomach and well formed hips. Sometimes, he feels guilty for holding that over her. Perhaps the manipulation of his tone lets her know how little Bjorn thinks of her, how busy Lagertha was, or how-- how much he could give, given the chance. His hand palms over her hip, up her waist, stopping at last when he cups her small breast.

“I should have known,” Siggy says, loosening the signs of her bitterness toward her father, as if she’s dealt with this her whole life. “I’m sorry. What will you do?” she adds, as if it were something for him to be concerned with.

“I’ll send her away. Deal with your father. Mother won’t involve herself in this case,” he manipulates his tone, a gently promise shielded with obligation. His thumb flicks, hardening her small nipples. Though she faces away from him, he could nearly see her cute pout, drawing her lip into her mouth, biting her lip pink like she would when she was unsure. “She knows how valuable this alliance is.”

He steps a little closer, pushing her into the desk, letting her feel him. His excitement, his readiness, and his need for her to deal with him. She knows why he wants to send her away. Her nipples are taut, riddled with gooseflesh and excitement, and he runs his hand down from her innocent breasts, caressing her flat stomach, settling over her belly button.

“Alfred please,” She asks, but she knows, by that neutral and soft voice, innocent before her alone. Norsemen took a certain amount of seriousness to deal with. Norsewomen, too. Siggy is different.

“Let him be angry. Siggy... please.”

She bends as his fingers crest over her mound, exploring her soft blonde curls. The war outside those doors was harsh. She knows that, he knows that. But here, within, was his escape. One where Alfred did not need to pretend. He could let himself fall apart here with Siggy. A shieldmaiden by virtue of her family name, and a gentle girl-- a tentative wife. His fingers splay, molding over her lips, until she’s wet and needy. He settles a kiss at her neck.

“England will be angry, too.”

He knows. At her assertion, he breaks to turn her around. Her lips are bitten red, cheeks pinched soft and pink. He weakens at her sight-- dipping two fingers into her. Hotness seeps around his fingers, and it feels right. He finds her lips with his own defiance, taking her there, stealing her complaints, worries, and woes. His fingers grow fast and desperate. Her emotions melt, altogether now, giving up on any attempt to deter him, only to have him use her for his needs. It’s good. It’s what Alfred needs. An escape in his own bed. He could lay there, with her, in nothing short of love and happiness.

“For all I’ve given up, England will endure it.”

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#Alfred x Siggy #Alfred the Great x Siggy #Alfred/Siggy #Alfred the Great x Siggy Bjornsdottir #Alfred the Great/Siggy Bjornsdottir #vikings imagines #vikings/reader #vikings x reader

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yonoullusesbket-blog · 4 years ago

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Stardew Valley where to get clay

You won't have to be concerned about utilizing any guides which stay likely to help you play the action, particularly when you might be playing at PC. You may get started your current adventure by constructing the type Giygas. It is on account of just how any time systems become felt inside the mobile version in the game. After i ended up being playing Simon's Farm, present become firm crops I might harvest incredibly basic in the period that grown to be really helpful later within the time.

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What does abigail like in Stardew Valley

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What does penny like in stardew Valley?

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certifiedmoth · 6 years ago

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Friends To Lovers (Part 1)

FWB - Jim Mason x Reader

Series Summary: Life in Palos Verdes is less than ideal. However, maybe you can find solace in a friendly figure...

Word Count: 11K

Warnings: Smut (fingering, male/female oral sex, unprotected sex), underage drinking, also please note everyone is 18+

Notes: This is a new series I’m working on about Jim and Y/N being friends with benefits! Part 1 is really long (sorry, yikes) and it’s a bit slow at first as we explore reader’s life in PV, but picks up in the end with some nice smut, enjoy! ♡ (Credit to @ferns-cody for the lovely gif)

There was a certain sadness you could feel in the air before the sun rose in Palos Verdes. The blues and purples of the night sky danced together then faded as the ocean stirred in the distance. The world around you that was once still, began to wake up. The soft chirping of birds nearby, the occasional car passing by, and the delicate touch of wind across your cheek reminded you to put on one of your many different faces and prepare for the new day.

You enjoyed the early mornings spent on your roof. This was the time when you could see Palos Verdes for what it was supposed to be. A serene paradise meant to be enjoyed, savored. Not the vile and all-consuming superficial mess you now knew it to be. Of course it was still beautiful, but the picture perfect houses with their flawless inhabitants unnerved you. You thought it wasn’t possible everyone here had it that good. You had been here 7 months and you still weren’t use to the mirage that this place was.

Perhaps it was jealousy that had you scowling as you sat on your clay tile roof. Or perhaps it was the shame you felt as you realized you were just like them. Always putting a show on for everyone around you, never truly revealing yourself to the world. What made you any different than every other resident in Palos Verdes? You tried to push those thoughts aside as you grew frustrated with yourself. You always managed to overanalyze things and sometimes you felt it was truly exhausting to be you. You wished you could live your life simply without overthinking everything and just be. But unfortunately, you weren’t that person. You were the type of person to have an identity crisis before 7 in the morning.

Now with the sun in the sky shining down on you from above, you took a deep breath and exhaled longingly, shaking your head in the process and silently cursing to yourself. You heard the familiar buzzing of your phone on the red tile beside you and watched it light up. Glancing at it, you saw the text from your friend that you were waiting for.

[Alison]: Leaving now!

You picked up the iPhone that lay to your side and quickly texted back an “okay!” before standing up and making your way to the open window. Since you moved here and became friends at school, you and Ali always tried to get together at least once during the weekend and the plan for this fine Saturday morning was to “hang and chill at the beach”. With her on the way, you put on your dark red bikini and threw on some high waisted shorts and your old tattered gray t-shirt. Some friendly company sounded nice, but if you were being honest, what you were really looking forward to was the feel of the sand between your toes and the coldness of the sea on your skin. Whenever you could feel yourself being spread too thin, the ocean was always there to pull you back. Nurturing and restorative, the water comforted you like nothing else.

You finished brushing your teeth and putting all the essentials into your backpack when you saw your phone light up on your bed. You shoved the sunscreen in, zipped up your bag and grabbed your phone before running downstairs. You knew what the text said before you read it, but checked anyways once you reached the kitchen.

[Alison]: Outsideee

Quickly, you put some food in your bag and were suddenly greeted by your mom, still in her robe. “Where are you off to?” she yawned, fixing herself some coffee, still half awake.

“I told you, I’m going to the beach with Ali and Chris,” you passed her the creamer she forgot to take out of the fridge.

“Okay, don’t forget I’m leaving today and coming back Monday,” she sternly said, walking over towards you and pulling you into her arms. She was a flight attendant and left often, usually only for a couple days at a time. She didn’t like leaving you alone, but loved traveling, and when you reassured her that you’d be fine and capable on your own, she couldn’t pass up the opportunity. It put a smile on your face to know she was happy and doing something she loved. If anyone in Palos Verdes deserved that, it was her.

You smiled, hugging her back, “Yes, I remember.” The eye roll that accompanied your words was probably unnecessary, but after being reminded 5 times by her, it was an automatic reaction. “Have fun, I’ll see you Monday,” you said, letting go of her, but her grip tightened, holding you in place. Laughing, you groaned, “Mom, I have to go, Ali’s outside!”

“Okay, okay, fine. I love you. Make good choices!” she yelled the last part, as you were headed out the door. A little joke between the two of you, you’d say it when she went on dates and she’d say it when you went just about anywhere.

“Never. Love you!” you waved her off as you opened Ali’s door. The trash that accompanied the floor of her Prius never ceased to amaze you. “I love what you’ve done with the place,” you smirked, closing the door and setting your bag on your lap.

“Shut up,” she snorted. “I really tried to keep it clean this week! Can’t you see the effort I made?” She jokingly asked as she gestured to the Taco Bell wrapper on her dashboard.

“I’m going to call the official Palos Verdes committee, which is absolutely a real thing, and they’re going to take your ass away.”

“Good, the sooner I get out of here, the better,” she joked, shooting you a big grin.

Chris’ house was about a minute from yours, which you always thought was nice. The idea of having somebody nearby, who you were fairly close with comforted you. Chris was considered a popular guy, even though he didn’t think that himself. He easily made friends wherever he went and was charming in just about every way possible. Attractive, too. He had blonde curls that sometimes fell in his bright green eyes. Tall and toned, you could understand why most girls gawked and whispered when he was around. But you saw past all of that, and instead saw the kind and caring person you knew him to be.

The two of you pulled into his long driveway, and Ali stopped the car only to pick up her phone to text him. You were thinking and laughing silently to yourself about the possibility of there actually being a PV committee, that would rain down hell on any who dare stray from the norm of tennis skirts, fake tans, and brunch, when the familiar blonde haired boy stumbled out of the front door. He adorned dark sunglasses and was holding his head, as though it hurt.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ali laughed loudly, barely getting her sentence out.

“Honestly, what did we expect?” you joined in on her laughter.

He opened the car door and crawled into the back seat, not bothering to say anything. “Is somebody hungover?” you asked, like a mother talking to their child.

He mumbled out a small “shut up” before looking up at you and flashing a small smile. You pretend to be hurt as Ali’s laughter fills the car.

“Is that just how we’re going to greet me from now on? First Ali and then you. I mean, honestly people…” you trail off, throwing your hands in the air.

“Stop being a smartass then,” Ali quips back, winking at you.

“Never,” you jokingly glare at her and then at Chris, who’s taken his sunglasses off and seems to be very amused and pleased with your reaction.

The drive to the beach was fairly short, but the three of you had still managed to talk about the latest scandal concerning the president, migration patterns of sea turtles (thanks to you) and the party you’d all be attending later that night. Chris was telling you how he was looking forward to getting drunk again when you noticed a slight sadness in his eyes. But, before you could push further, Ali had turned into the parking lot and parked the car, turning the engine off with a loud sigh.

“What a beautiful day!” Ali exclaimed in her best (but actually incredibly horrible) Australian accent as she welcomed the beach with open arms. Both you and Chris groaned in response, sharing looks of disapproval with one another as she ignored you both. Quickly, you all grabbed your belongings out of the car and dragged yourself through the sand looking for the best spot. Luckily, the beach wasn’t too crowded. You’d usually only find a couple of people there, something you were grateful for as you felt the beach was a sacred, special place meant for relaxation. And today wasn’t any different. You saw that some of the surfers were out today, their belongings in a pile on the south end of the beach. But besides that, the beach was deserted. You let a small smile form on your lips and Chris must have noticed because he bumped his shoulder against you with a smirk on his face.

The spot was easily decided upon between the three of you when you found a nice bit of soft sand near the water. You notice you’re just a little ways down from the surfer’s things as you delicately lay your blue towel down in between Ali and Chris, making sure not to get any sand on it, which Chris completely messes up when he slams his own towel down and flops on to it. You glare at his obliviousness as he lays there with closed eyes and his hands behind his head, soaking in the morning sun. You lean down and take a handful of sand, only to slowly raise it right above his toned stomach. You turn your head to Ali behind you and she silently nods, approving of your actions. And with that, you open your hand, painting his stomach with a fresh new coat of sand.

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he gasps, brushing the sand off of him.

“It’s what you deserve,” you smirk, gesturing towards the sand covering your towel.

“Oh, is that so?” he carefully questions, a smirk playing out on his face. “Well, in that case,” he inches dangerously closer to you with a glint in his eye and hands outstretched. He quickly starts putting more sand on your towel and before you know it, you’re screaming and Chris is tickling you while trying to cover you in sand. You were pretty sure Ali’s laughter could be heard across the whole beach, which only caused you to think you all must have looked crazy to any bystanders. Luckily, they were all in the water, enjoying the waves the ocean brought that day. Or, so you thought. You heard a voice call out for Chris nearby and you all paused what you were doing, looking over at the dark haired boy in the wetsuit.

“Hey Gabriel, what’s up man?” Chris laughed, shaking off the sand as he stood up. You tried to fix your hair and clothes, while Ali drank from her water bottle.

“Psst hey, I’m thirsty for Gabe,” she whispered to you as she motioned to her bottle, snickering to herself. You shot her a glance before trying to hide your laughter in front of the two boys.

“We’re talking about tonight over there, what were you bringing again?” Gabriel’s voice trailed off as the two boys started to walk towards the familiar group of boys from school you occasionally saw Chris with.

“Bye, then!” Ali yelled, with fake annoyance.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Chris shouted back, sporting a reassuring grin. You rolled your eyes and leaned back down as you closed your eyes and settled into relaxation.

“We should just throw his towel in the water,” Ali comments, laying down herself. You quietly chuckle, hitting her side to tell her to let it go.

Being around Ali and Chris was nice but took a tremendous amount on your part. It didn’t feel natural to be this outgoing or gregarious. You didn’t know who this person was. But it was who Ali and Chris knew you to be, so you played the part. The sweet bitterness of it all was that you had two amazing people in your life, and yet, you were still alone. You pondered the idea of Ali and Chris having to play a role, too. Was Ali this naturally loud and rambunctious, attracting attention and admiration everywhere she went? And was Chris naturally this charismatic, making everyone fall victim to his charm? Maybe it was natural for them. Perhaps, it was as easy as breathing for them and they lived their lives as authentically as they appeared to. You let out a long sigh, as you were reminded of the differences between you and your friends. But quickly, you were shaken from your intrusive thoughts as Ali rustled around beside you, sitting up.

“So, tonight!” Ali cheerfully said, causing you to open your eyes and squint up at her with the sun in your face.

“Yes!” You met her excitement as you put your sunglasses on, sat up, and started to take your shirt and jeans off.

“Brandon said it starts at like 8, but we shouldn’t get there right away… right?” she looked at you for agreement.

“Yeah, we definitely don’t want to be the first ones there. We’re lame, but I mean, we’re not that lame,” you joke as you squeeze some sunscreen in your hand and start to rub it into your warm skin. You hear a faint whistle from the other side of the beach, which causes you both to jerk your heads up. A slight blush creeps its way onto your cheeks as you weren’t expecting to hear that. You laugh it off, and Ali rolls her eyes, taking her own clothes off in the process and grabbing the sunscreen from you.

“Anyways!” she says, loud enough for the boys to hear. “They’re stupid,” she glances over at them, her voice back to a normal level. “But yeah, I was thinking we could go at like 9? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, totally,” you nod. And you realized, just like Chris, you were dying to have a drink in you, as well.

“Okay, cool. I’ll be at your place at 9, then,” she said while standing up. “But for now, I want to go in,” she nodded her head towards the water, smiling down at you.

“We literally just put sunscreen on. We have to let it soak in,” you laughed quietly, refusing to get up. And with that she leaned down and started to pull on your arms to try and lift you, but you were slightly stronger.

“Come onnnnnnn,” she groaned. “We can just stick our feet in until the sunscreen has done its thing.”

How could you resist? “Alright, fine,” you compromised, letting her pull you to your feet.

This is what you had been waiting for all morning. A shiver ran up your spine as you made contact with the cold water. The frigid ocean in January wasn’t ideal, but you would take whatever you could get. How deceiving Palos Verdes was with its external beauty and rotten core. Even its beaches could trick the smartest man. With the sun shining and the ocean calm and crystal clear, you would never expect to feel daggers once in the water. The secretive glance you stole at the dripping wet surfers in their wetsuits, told you that this was as far as you and Ali would go in today. You wanted nothing more than to be engulfed and surrounded by the water, but thought hypothermia didn’t sound particularly enjoyable.

You were interrupted from your thoughts when you felt the icy cold water splash all over your skin. The scream that came out of Ali was unhuman like as you searched for the cause of what had you two shivering. One of the boys had kicked a soccer ball in your direction, landing in the water right next to you. Rolling your eyes, you assumed the culprit was Travis since he always had that stupid thing with him.

“You think that’s funny huh?” Ali shouted, half joking, half angry, stalking towards them. You picked up the ball before it could drift away and held it far from your body as it basically felt like a soccer ball sized ice cube. You shuffled towards the group that Ali was standing in front of, scolding. The laughter coming from the boys told you that they didn’t take her too seriously. Travis walked towards you clutching his chest, gasping for breath as he laughed.

“That was so fucking funny, oh my god,” he managed to get out, taking the ball from your frozen hands.

“I’m glad our pain is your pleasure, asshole,” Ali criticized, shooting him a glare.

“Oh honey, you have no idea,” he said suggestively. “Also, nice top, Y/N,” he winked and you suddenly became aware of the thin, unpadded fabric that was no help with the cold water you experienced just moments before. You quickly tried to cover yourself as best you could from the stares of the lust-filled boys.

“Oh fuck off, Travis. Stop being creepy,” Chris chimed in, stepping forward and thankfully, trying to divert the attention away from you. “Why can’t you ever keep your mouth shut, huh? Why can’t you be more like me? Or like Jim?” he gestures to the brown haired boy to his side. You glance up to find a pair of piercing blue eyes already staring directly at you and he holds your gaze for half a second before looking away. Travis is still laughing as Chris walks over with his signature grin and takes him by the shoulders to give him a slight shake. “Be more like Jim and I. Don’t. Be. Creepy.” He enunciates every word as Travis laughs it off, saying “whatever, man”.

“Ali was right, you guys are stupid,” you smirk. Both Gabriel and Chris share the same look of offense and betrayal directed at Ali, who simply shrugs her shoulders.

“I meant what I said,” she smiles, squinting her eyes at the dumbstruck boys. “You guys have fun now. And keep your balls away from us,” she motions towards the soccer ball, which you scoff at. Their laughter can be heard as you both turn around and make your way back to your things, the water being slightly too cold to be in today, much to your annoyance. You sneak a quick glance back in search of the blue eyes, but instead see that the brunette’s eyes are shut as his deep laughter fills the air. You turn back around, sigh contentedly, and silently thank whatever god is responsible for cute boys.

“Gabe couldn’t keep his eyes off of you,” you smile over at Ali once you two sit down, getting comfortable on your towels.

“He’s so hot, oh my god,” she groans, covering her face but you can still see her cheery smile peak through. “I’m nervous about tonight, just a little bit,” she says quickly, lowering her hands slightly and glancing your way with an over-exaggerated frown. You aren’t used to seeing much vulnerability from Ali, but it’s welcoming.

“Why are you nervous?” you ask soberly, hoping she’ll open up to you and the two of you can have an authentic conversation, something you’ve been craving.

“I just- Well, Gabe and I have been friends for a while, right? And that’s great. But now we’ve been texting each other and kind of flirting at school and I just feel like something might happen tonight with us,” she says, fidgeting with her hands.

“That’s good though!” your eyes light up as you encourage her with a smile.

“I knoooow, but like… I haven’t been with a guy in forever, and god, I’ve been so horny lately, I would literally kill for some dick, but what if I’ve lost my touch?” she squints her eyes at the ocean, pondering her situation which has you stifling a giggle at her dramatic appearance.

“I highly doubt that, and plus, he totally wants you. He’s going to be jazzed just being in your company, because you are amazing,” you say the last part in a singsongy voice, which she shyly smiles at.

“What about you though! Have you had your eye on anyone? Tonight would be a lot easier if you got laid, too” she says with pleading eyes. You’re a little thrown off, but try your best not to show it.

“I don’t know… I haven’t really been interested in anybody lately. I’m not like the dating and relationship type, you know?” you scrunch up your face as you stumble over your words.

“You don’t have to marry them, but you should have some fun tonight, too,” she says reassuringly, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You can’t help the laugh that escapes as she tries to persuade you. “Plus, didn’t you hookup with that one guy a while ago? It’s been way too long. You shouldn’t neglect your body like that,” she pushes further, winking at you.

You cover your face and cringe at the memory, “Oh yeah, Henry,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Way too much tongue… Actually, I wouldn’t have minded if he had just used his tongue elsewhere,” you raise an eyebrow at Ali, causing her to make a scene with her laughter.

“Fuck, that’s right! Henry, oh my god. How could I forget the guy with the lizard tongue,” she gasps for air between laughs. You laugh beside her but cringe a bit at the memory. “That’s what you get for hooking up with a guy from our rival school,” she pokes your side, rubbing it in as much as she can.

“How was I supposed to know! I was new and clearly made a bad call,” you shake your head in laughter, laying down and hiding your face with your bag. “Let us never speak about it again,” you say muffled behind your bag.

“Actually,” you say moving your bag to the side and raising yourself on your elbows. “You kind of have a point, it has been a while…” you mutter, while kicking some sand around with your foot.

“Yes! It has!” she leans forward excitedly, as she thinks she’s finally got you on her side. “You deserve to have some fun with a hot guy, and Palos Verdes has lots of those to spare,” she says very matter-of-factly. You smile at her words as you roll over the idea in your mind. You had been touch starved for months and the thought of having someone’s hands dance all over your skin thrilled you. Perhaps this would even be a good distraction from the overbearing thoughts you found yourself having lately.

“Alright, I’m open to the possibility, but I can’t promise anything will happen,” you try to sound nonchalant, but your smile betrays you.

You had spent a couple of hours at the beach, Chris soon joining you and Ali after he finished talking with the boys. You had a really nice time soaking up the sun and spending time with the two people you were closest with in this town, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief as you got home. You always found yourself seeking solitude after being around people. You knew that some time alone before the party would do you some good. Especially, since you now had an objective for tonight and a lot to think about because of it.

You spent a good portion of the time leading up to the party reading in bed, cuddled up next to your cat, Luna. The soft purrs that emanated from her calmed your nerves as you stroked her silvery soft fur. You told yourself you had nothing to be nervous about, but you still shared the anxiety that Ali was feeling earlier. When you glanced at your phone and it showed that you’d be leaving in an hour and a half, you decided to close your book. You started to feel more excitement after you fed Luna her dinner and started getting ready. Some intimacy and connection was exactly what you wanted right now. It was actually what you needed. The feel of someone’s hands gripping your waist, their breath fanning over your exposed skin, nipping at you gently with soft lips. It sounded like heaven and you couldn’t help the smile that played out on your face as you decided on what to wear. Your closet held many great things, which usually resulted in a lot of indecision on your part when it came to getting dressed. However – tonight it would have to be your black, strappy dress. The way it hugged your curves had even you checking yourself out in the mirror. It showed just enough cleavage to leave others wanting more and was also backless, which you particularly liked. You thought, “why not show off my body?” Especially on a night like this. The fabric stopped halfway down your thighs and if somebody’s gaze followed all the way down your legs, they’d find some black stilettos to accompany your sleek, well-fitted dress.

You thought to yourself, “Damn, I look good.” And you did, there was no denying that. You fixed your hair just the way you liked it and put some makeup on, as well. Taking a step back from the mirror, you decided you were really pleased with the way you looked, which only made your excitement grow. You were ready to have a drink, spend some time with Ali and Chris, and (hopefully) have a little extra fun tonight with somebody new.

You heard the familiar buzz from your phone that told you Ali would soon be at your place, so you spritzed some perfume delicately on your neck and touched up your hair. Luna jumped up onto your bed and made herself comfortable in the middle of the lilac duvet and the sight of her curled up with closed eyes calmed whatever nerves you still had about tonight. You leaned down to softly pet her head which had her perk up and make a chirping noise from the disturbance you had caused her. Her annoyance with you had you laughing to yourself as you saw the headlights of Ali’s car turn into your driveway. Bending down, you placed a gentle kiss on her head, said your goodbyes, and were on your way.

As soon as you opened Ali’s car door and sat down, you were greeted with screams from the driver herself. “Bitch, you look SO good!” You couldn’t help the big grin that adorned your face as you welcomed her praise. “Forget Gabe, I’m just going to hook up with you tonight,” she said, pulling out of your driveway.

You looked over at her and winked while saying, “I’m down,” which caused a giggle to leave her lips. “You look really good, too! I love that shade of blue on you,” you turned towards her and looked at her navy dress.

“Sexy, right?” she wiggled her eyebrows at you. “I think Gabe will like it,” she added softly with her eyes glued to the road but a smile on her face. “I’m feeling a lot better about tonight, but I still need a drink,” she let out a breath as she continued,” How about you! How are you feeling about tonight?”

You nodded your head slowly, looking out the window at the passing street lights, “I feel good, too. Definitely want a drink, but I feel… good,” you confirmed to her and yourself. You don’t know why you were even nervous to begin with. After all, these were just people from school and you were all graduating in a couple of months, so if anything bad happened you wouldn’t have to see them for that much longer anyways.

You knew that you had arrived when you could see the many different cars parked along the street and people loitering the lawn, boisterously talking amongst themselves. With the car finally parked a little ways down from Brandon’s house, you stepped outside to be greeted by the brisk chill of the night. The moon gleamed in the night sky as you both made your way towards the sound of laughter and yelling, the sound of your heels clicking on the pavement adding a calm beat to the overbearing sounds you were hearing.

You passed those who had spilled outside of the house and onto the lawn and caught a few eyes staring at you. Or rather at your body. You smirked to yourself as you stepped through the door, with Ali right behind you. The house was dimly lit and thudded from whatever song by The Weeknd they were blasting over the speakers. From what you could tell, Brandon’s house was quite nice, albeit similar to yours, as was pretty much every house in Palos Verdes. Except now, it was filled to the brim with high school seniors, drunk, unruly, and looking to let loose. You actually felt bad about the mess Brandon’s parents were sure to come home to.

“Chris!” you heard Ali scream behind you as you turned around only to see her disappear into the crowd. You tried to follow, but were swallowed into the mob of dancing people. You recognized familiar faces from school and some new faces, as well, as they swayed around you in a drunken state. You suddenly felt a pair of hands around your waist and someone’s lips brush against your ear. “Well aren’t you a pretty thing,” they whispered, the smell of alcohol faint on their breath. You turned around only to find a complete stranger and scoffed at their overconfidence.

“Don’t touch me,” you tore their hands from your body and rolled your eyes as you made your way against the grain of the large crowd. You wanted to get with somebody tonight, but would never consider the creep who grabs random girls from behind. He’s lucky you didn’t give him a black eye. Surprisingly enough you could hear Ali’s laughter, even over the deafening music, which told you she was nearby. You pushed a little further and saw the navy dress with her in it, talking to some familiar faces.

“Hey! I lost you,” you laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck. Everyone’s eyes turned to you, some even looking you up and down with a smirk on their lips.

“I was wondering where you went!” she shouted over the music, hugging your waist and bringing you into the circle of friends. You noticed Gabe was standing across from her, which explains why she practically ran over here the moment she noticed the familiar faces.

“Here you go,” you heard a familiar deep voice as someone bumped into you with their hand out, offering Ali a drink. “Oh shit, sorry,” you both turned towards each other only to see that it was Chris who had nearly knocked you over. His green eyes widened as he took in your appearance, “Oh wow, Y/N.” His breath hitched slightly, but he regained his composure quickly, “I didn’t mean to almost kill you, sorry.” He laughed lightly, holding onto the two cups in his hand. Ali grabbed one and patted him on the shoulder, turning back to her conversation. “Here, take this one. I’ll go grab another one,” he offered you the drink in his hand.

“Thanks!” you took the cup gladly from him. “I’ll come with you, though,” you said, looking up at him with a smile.

“Okay,” his eyes gleamed, taking your arm and leading you through the crowd of sweaty people, only letting go of you once you two reached the corner where the drinks were. You wanted to scope out the place and for anyone you thought would be interesting to play around with. Taking a sip of the strong liquid inside of your red cup, you winced as you felt the familiar burn make its way down your throat. You were spinning around back towards Chris when you stopped and noticed he was already staring at you. You gave him a quick smile as he averted his eyes and watched as he poured himself another drink.

“You havin’ fun?” you asked a bit concerned once you remembered the look of sadness he wore earlier at the beach. He shared that same look just as he made eye contact with you and you were curious what could be upsetting him.

“Oh yeah, what’s not to love about parties?” he winked at you, raising his cup and taking a big sip.

Walking over towards him, your mouth turned down slightly at the edges as you softly told him, “You know, you can always talk to me if something’s bothering you.”

He put his arm around you in a jovial way and wore a smile that only half convinced you as he stared at your face, searching for something you weren’t sure of. “I know. I’m okay, though,” he said softly, squeezing your shoulder.

You both made your way back to the group surprisingly easy for how rowdy and crowded the party was getting. Ali and Gabe only had eyes for each other as they stood dangerously close to one another, engulfed in a conversation. You noticed the placement of her arm on his bicep and you were happy that she was going after what she wanted. You looked around the group, observing everyone in their drunken states, which you had to admit, was quite amusing. You tried to hide your giggle by taking another sip from your cup when your eyes landed on a familiar brunette leaning against the wall. His icy blue eyes you had seen only earlier that day bore into you once more. Only this time they were two shades darker.

His eyes searched every part of you, drinking you in. The way your hair swayed as you looked at the partygoers. The way you bit your lip as you observed them, squinting your eyes, clearly in deep thought. And the way your bare legs teased and tantalized him. God, you looked absolutely divine, he thought to himself. You glanced at the beer in his hand and put two and two together, deciding the determination in his lust blown eyes was the product of his beverage. But, you took the bait anyways.

It didn’t take long for you to find your way over to him, his eyes never leaving you for a second even with the commotion of the party. You placed your body right beside his against the wall and could feel his eyes on you as he turned his head to really take you in. Your smile was apparent as you brought your cup to your lips again, drinking the harsh liquid.

“Hi there,” you said, finally looking over at the tall brunette standing next to you. You were met with half-lidded eyes and a slight smirk that tempted you to kiss him right then and there.

“Hey,” he simply replied, his voice raspy and eyes glancing you up and down.

“Are you ever going to stop assaulting me with your eyes?” you joked, a smile playing out on your face.

“It’s not my fault you look like that,” the corners of his mouth turned up. “You see – I just can’t help it,” he placed the hand not holding his beer over his chest, breathing in and taking in the sight of you completely.

The way you rolled your eyes at his words had him laughing, which you thought only made him more attractive. “It’s Jim, right?” you asked, turning on your side to look at him.

“Mhm,” he muttered, mimicking your gesture and leaning on his side to face you. “Y/N, right?”

You nodded your head and took another sip from your cup, finally starting to feel the effects on you. The blue in his eyes was mesmerizing, even as they grew darker with each passing minute; even as they got closer while he moved his body towards you. “You’re the new girl,” he commented.

You scoffed, “Well, I was new 7 months ago – Not sure if I’d still be classified as the new girl now.” He seemed particularly amused by the slight irritation in your voice, especially when you used air quotes around “new girl”. He folded his arms and leaned in closer to you, squinting his eyes as if to stare you down. But you didn’t budge; you liked a challenge occasionally.

He sensed you weren’t ready to back down as you raised an eyebrow at his stance. Sighing, he leaned back and smirked, “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

He caught you a bit off guard with his words, but you regained your composure quickly. “Oh please, I’m not mad,” you replied, the hint of a smile on your face. “You don’t have that much of an effect on me,” the satisfaction gleamed across your face for everyone to see, but Jim was too close now for anyone to notice. He seemed to make his way closer and closer to you until your bodies were mere inches from each other.

He leaned down and ghosted his lips over your ear, smirking at the way your breath hitched in your throat. “So, I do have some effect on you, then?” His voice was deep and sultry. His words dancing in your mind.

“Maybe,” you placed your hand gently on his chest, leaning into his body. You could feel his toned chest through the soft cotton of his shirt, and the smell of his cologne left you in a daze. All you could think about was getting as close to him as possible. “Is there anywhere a little more… private?” you ask, your fingertips dancing across his chest.

He takes your hand in his, stopping your movements altogether, which causes you to look up at him. He looks a little surprised by your forwardness, but pleased nonetheless. “I do – Follow me,” he grabs your hand tighter and leads you through the crowd. You both make your way upstairs and the first room you try already has three people in it. They are way too focused on each other’s unclothed bodies to notice you and Jim opening the door and then quickly shutting it. You’re both still laughing as you head towards the room down the hall, holding onto each other closely. You stumble in first, happy to find that the room is unoccupied, with Jim following right after you. You take your time walking to the middle of the room, slowly turning to take it all in as you hear Jim lock the door behind you. A very nice and spacious master bedroom. Your thoughts of Brandon’s parents sleeping on the california king sized mattress make you cringe a bit, but you shake those thoughts from your mind easily. You’re faced towards the vanity across the room when you hear the bed dip. Turning with a smile on your lips, you see Jim sitting against the headboard, clearly having made himself comfortable. He pats the spot next to him as he notices your eyes staring directly into his.

“Well, aren’t you a presumptuous little thing,” you squint as a soft laugh escapes your lips.

“You’re the one who wanted somewhere more private,” he says, mimicking the way you had said it downstairs, earning a smile from you. You shake your head at the boy, place your cup next to his abandoned beer bottle on the dresser and slowly make your way towards the edge of the bed. The way he’s looking at you has you wanting to rip his clothes off and straddle him, but you want to take things slow. Not for your own sake or because you wanted to take your time and savor this, but because you wanted to make him wait a little and put him on edge. The way you get onto the bed and crawl on all fours towards him has him practically salivating. You finally reach him and lean up to kiss him lightly on his cheek. Just a little something to tease him, before you find your place next to him on the bed, sitting beside him. He lets out a small breath at the feeling of your lips meeting and then leaving his skin quickly. You lean into his warm body, with your bare legs resting against his jean covered ones. Your eyes stare seductively into his blue ones, challenging him to make the next move. His arm finds its way across your shoulders pulling you into him even more as his other hand slides up your thigh and grips it slightly.

Your heart beats fast like a drum as you wait in anticipation, wanting nothing more than to find out what he tastes like. The moment you inch closer to his lips, he leans down, meeting you slowly. He nudges his nose gently against yours, silently asking for permission. The smile that adorns your face is genuine as you feel his warm breath ghost over your lips. You lean the slightest bit into him and suddenly feel his soft, tender lips against yours. The way your mouths dance against each other is nothing short of heavenly. Jim manages to elicit a small gasp from you as he moves his hand further up your leg. The grip you have on his shirt is strong as you pull his body closer to yours, needing to feel more of him.

You both lay there for several minutes, tasting each other and reveling in the feeling of your hands exploring the other. You hold his face close to yours as he bites your bottom lip gently. Slowly, he massages your tongue gently with his and you swallow the moans that leave his mouth. A delicate dance that you are both sharing in. This continues for a while, the both of you losing yourselves in the feeling of the other.

When you break the kiss to nip at his jawline, he closes his eyes in pleasure and sighs softly. The next sound heard in the room is your breath hitching in your throat as he bunches up your dress and moves his finger gently up and down your black, lace panties. He can feel how wet you are through the thin fabric and bites back a groan. Swiftly, he pushes the drenched lace to the side and runs his finger through your folds slowly before sinking it in. It was your turn to close your eyes in pleasure as he thrust his long digit in and out of you slowly, staring intently at you with lust-filled eyes. He could feel himself hardening as he watched the look of pleasure on your face while you held him closely with your arms around his neck. The way your body squirmed as he dipped down to kiss your neck encouraged him to add another finger. You moaned desperately, making him bite down on your skin, hiding a grunt from leaving his mouth. He moved his fingers in and out of you skillfully, relishing in the way your brows furrowed and breaths got more and more desperate. You started to get used to his rhythm, sighing contentedly at the tingle settling in your stomach. And then he stopped, removing his hand altogether.

Your eyes shot open, giving him an astounded look nearly begging him to continue, but stopped once you saw him removing his jean jacket. You watched hungrily as he lifted his white t-shirt over his head and threw it on the floor near where his jacket was discarded. Growing impatient, you started to fumble with your dress, trying to take it off.

“No – Don’t,” Jim spoke up. “Let me.” He was about to take his jeans off but stopped once he saw what you were doing. Grabbing your ankle that was closest, he pulled you towards him so that you were now laying down. He quickly pounced on you and you felt the heat of his body as he hovered over you. Leaning down he placed a heated kiss to your lips, melting in your taste. You almost didn’t even notice his hands pulling the straps of your dress down, but once you felt them linger over your breasts you instinctively moved your hips up to his, needing to feel more of him. He moved down to lightly suck at the sensitive part of your neck and pulled your dress down over your breasts.

“Damn,” he pulled back and muttered, mostly to himself. Having decided not to wear a bra that night, you thanked yourself silently as you were happy to speed up this process. He couldn’t believe how unbelievably sexy you looked laying underneath him, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He dipped down once again and placed open mouth kisses all the way from your neck to your chest. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking lightly as he gripped the other in between his fingers. You could feel him smirk against your skin when you jumped after he pinched you slightly. Moving on to your other breast, he gave a small kiss as to say sorry. You held his head to you and raked his back with your nails as he moved his tongue back and forth over your nipple. The moans that left his mouth when you occasionally bucked your hips into his helped deepen the arousal pooling in your lower region.

You could see he was growing more impatient as he rubbed himself against you. If it wasn’t the way he kissed you, or the way he sucked on your skin, or the sounds of his deep moans that turned you on the most, it was definitely the prominent bulge he ground into you. The rough jean material rubbed against your thin lace and it left you breathless. You needed more of him and as if he read your mind in that moment, he pulled the rest of your dress down your body, throwing it somewhere out of sight. You lifted your hips up for him and he pulled the drenched lace down your legs, abandoning it on the floor as well. His eyes devoured every part of you as he lightly kneaded your thigh with his firm hand. The slight smirk and content sigh he gave right before leaning down in between your legs nearly had you blushing. But what really made a light shade of pink appear on your cheeks was the way his tongue slowly ran up your folds, gathering your wetness in his mouth. He lifted his head and licked his lips, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes. The crystal clear blue you had seen in his irises earlier that day was nearly nonexistent now. He looked at you hungrily, with his pupils as dilated as you’ve ever seen on a person.

Once he leaned back down, he mumbled out a small, “You taste really good.”

You were a little caught off guard and as a result you let out a slight giggle and an awkward “thanks”. He simply chuckled against your skin, kissing and sucking on the skin between your thighs. He moved his tongue up and down your folds a couple more times, and sucked lightly on your clit before removing his mouth and making his way back up your body to kiss you again.

He ground his hips into you once more, needing to feel some friction from your warmth. “Are you on birth control?” he muttered, not being able to control himself for much longer.

Right as you were about to reply, he started sucking at the skin under your jaw, so your “yeah, I am” came out a lot shakier than you had planned.

“Okay, great,” he placed one more kiss to your collarbone before getting off the bed, unbuttoning his jeans.

“Hey!” you said accusingly.

His eyes widened a bit as his hands stopped, “what?”

“Let me,” you threw his line back at him, which earned you a rolling of his eyes and a smirk he tried to cover up. You delicately got off the bed and leaned down on your knees in front of him. You looked up at him innocently as you grabbed his bulge, lightly squeezing it in your hand. His body jolted forward and he sucked in a harsh breath. You decided not to tease him too much, as you were growing impatient as well, so your fingers found their way to his zipper and undid his jeans the rest of the way. Pulling them down his legs you were greeted with a pair of blue boxers. But that’s not what you were focusing on. What filled your mind was the way his cock desperately begged to be let free from the confines of the fabric. You leaned into him and placed your lips right above the top of the cotton band, licking the sensitive skin as you felt him rest his hand gently in your hair. You snaked your fingers under the band and lightly pulled them down. The way his cock bounced freely as you lowered his boxers had you licking your lips in anticipation. You liked what you saw. Not too thin, not too thick, just enough veins. He was also the longest you had ever been with and that alone had you biting your lip.

His tip gleamed with precum and you found yourself leaning in to place a delicate lick at his slit. You smirked at the sudden breath he let out. You could tell he had been holding it in but couldn’t anymore once he felt your touch, sending a jolt of electricity through every nerve in his body. He desperately needed more of you. With his hand placed on the back of your head, he beckoned you closer and you happily obliged. You held him and placed your tongue flat against the base of his shaft, licking up the long vein that ran all the way to his tip. Slowly, you took him into your mouth. But, only the tip. You sucked and swirled your tongue around his most sensitive part, earning you a low, raspy groan from the man above. He pushed your head slightly further towards him and you couldn’t help but give in to his demands. You were enjoying this just a little too much as you sunk your mouth down on him as far as you could go, letting your hand work whatever couldn’t fit. Watching your head bobbing up and down on him nearly had him coming undone already and he couldn’t help but let out a hiss when you dipped down to suck gently at his balls before coming back up and taking his length into your warm mouth once again. He started to lose his composure as he placed both hands in your hair and started thrusting into your mouth, relishing in the feel of your muffled moans vibrating against his cock. But, as much as he loved your mouth on him, he had other plans for where he wanted his cum going.

He gently pulled you off of his cock, took your hand that was placed on his hip and helped you to stand up. Quickly, he kicked his shoes and jeans off of his body, closed whatever distance was between you two and found your needy lips against his. He grabbed your ass roughly and pushed his hips into you, swallowing the moan that left your mouth as you felt his cock rub against you. Slowly, he walked you backwards to the bed where he abruptly left your lips and pushed you onto the comforter.

You fall onto the plush fabric with your mouth slightly agape as he stares down at you, pumping himself a few times as he makes his way towards your body. The anticipation is torturous as all you want is to feel the sensation of him filling you. The bed moves slightly as he finds his way on top of you. Even though his warmth was addictive and nearly set every nerve in your body on fire, the way his length rested against your stomach as he kissed along your jawline sent a tingling shiver up your spine. His breath ghosted against your cheek, hot and heavy, with him rubbing his length against your lower abdomen, the glistening liquid leaking out of him smearing against your skin. The feeling of your nails digging into his back made him jerk his head up with a low grunt escaping his lips. The sight of his wavy hair, now unruly, in front of his lust-blown eyes only made you more desperate for his touch.

He placed one more kiss under your ear before whispering, “Still sure about this?”

“Yes,” you groan, practically begging for him to connect your bodies already.

“Alright,” he says, smirking at the slight eagerness in your voice. He raises himself from your body and the coldness that hits you from the lack of his warmth leaves you feeling dissatisfied; however, you aren’t able to think about it too long as he quickly grabs you by the hips and flips you over so that you’re now on all fours. He holds your hips tightly in his grasp as he bends down to kiss the back of your neck. “This okay?” he whispers, lightly grinding against your body.

You reply by pushing your body back into him. His length rubs against your skin and you feel your hair move as he lets out a harsh breath. And then suddenly you feel the absence of his warmth over your back as he leans up, gripping your hip with one hand and his shaft with the other, running it up and down your folds, spreading your wetness around.

In one swift motion, he sinks himself into you and both of your moans fill the room, as you tightly grab onto the comforter beneath you. You shut your eyes in pleasure at the feeling of him filling you completely and he rolls his head back, a groan leaving his lips, at the feeling of being encompassed in your warmth. He gives you both a moment to adjust to this new feeling before moving his hips. He’s slow at first, trying to pace himself, but the soft sounds leaving your mouth drive him absolutely crazy and you can feel him pick up the pace, needing that extra bit of friction. The sound of skin slapping against each other is the prominent noise in the room, along with your quiet moans, his occasional groans, and the faint music from the party downstairs.

He pushes further into you, seeking his own pleasure, as he goes at a relentless pace now. The tight grip on your hips (that you were sure to find bruises on tomorrow) left quickly and instead he leaned down and wrapped his arms around your torso, his hot breath fanning against your neck. You could smell his cologne and even the slight scent of the ocean hidden underneath. He sucked harshly at your soft skin, which you were sure was purple by now.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck,” he started saying to himself, voice shaky as his hips slammed into you over and over. The feeling of him buried deep inside of you nearly had you seeing stars. Both of you were grateful that you were holding on to each other, since you were sure it was impossible to stay up on your own now. He thrust into you a couple more times before you felt him bury himself completely in you. He started groaning loudly as his cock twitched inside of you and you could then feel his cum spill out of him, painting your walls. Slowing his thrusts, he held your body close to him, making sure you milked his cock for every drop he had. He let out one last content breath before releasing you from his grasp and pulling out of you.

You lay there catching your breath and could feel his cum seep out of you slowly, running down your thighs. Your arousal was starting to build up before he had finished in you and now, you felt slightly bitter towards the man getting off of the bed. Turning around, you found him running his hands through his disheveled hair, trying to catch his breath as well. Even though he looked ridiculously attractive like this, with a slight flush adorning his cheeks, you couldn’t help but glare at him for leaving you high and dry.

“Hold on, let me get something for you,” he said while looking at the mess his cum made. You watched him walk towards the bathroom against the farthest wall, his bare ass on display only deepening your arousal. Moments later, he came back with a hand towel, brushing it against his neck that softly glistened with sweat. “Here,” he handed it to you and you rolled your eyes.

As you were nearly done wiping your legs, you spoke with a hint of hostility in your voice, “You know, I didn’t cum.” You didn’t bother to look up at his reaction, but when you didn’t hear a reply your eyes found themselves glancing up anyways. His arms were folded and he was slightly shaking his head, a smirk played out across his features.

“Did I say I was done with you?” He let out a low laugh when you raised your eyebrows in surprise. “I know you didn’t finish. Did you think I was just going to leave?” he said, moving towards your body that still lay on the bed.

“Well… Yeah. Pretty much,” you said in an obvious voice. You squeezed your legs shut as you could feel your arousal dripping at the sight of him advancing towards you. He stopped when he reached your legs, softly caressing them up and down.

“No – Like I said, I’m not done with you yet. I only got a small taste of you and I’d like more,” he glanced at your heat, licking his lips. “If that’s okay with you, of course,” he mocked the attitude your voice held just moments before. You looked down, slightly embarrassed as you bit your bottom lip and nodded your head slightly. From your position, you lowered yourself completely onto the plush cotton beneath you, ready for him. He teasingly ran his fingers up your legs and then slowly, spread your thighs apart, taking in the sight of you completely.

His icy, blue eyes bore into yours as he leaned down to place open mouthed kisses all over the inside of your thighs. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling of the small nips he left against your sensitive skin. Suddenly, he licked a small, hard stripe over your clit, making your hips jut out. You could feel his smirk as he attached his lips, sucking hard and holding you down with one of his arms. Instinctively, your hand reached out and grasped onto his hair as your head rolled back into the mattress. The desperate moan that escaped you as he licked fast stripes over your clit sounded almost angelic to him. He stopped his movements and placed his tongue flat against your entrance and reveled in your whines as you tried to move your hips against him to try and get some friction. But his arm that was wrapped tightly around your hips prevented you from moving, much to your annoyance. You tried pushing his head closer to you, but he strongly denied your requests, simply keeping his tongue in place, taunting you with its warmness.

“Jim,” you panted, looking down at him with pleading eyes. He looks up at you with a glint in his eye, his lips still attached to you.

“Just wanted to hear you say ‘please’,” he mumbles against your heat, teasing you.

“Come on,” you groan and with that he licks up your entrance, his nose bumping against your clit in the process. He starts licking and sucking faster as he notices your breaths getting more and more desperate. He moves to your clit and sucks harshly, making you yelp. The tight grasp you have on his hair only pushes him to go further. He removes his arm from around your waist and instead places both hands at the back of your thighs raising them towards you to give him more room.

The feeling of his tongue against you was like nothing you had ever experienced. You hated to admit it, not wanting to give this near stranger any satisfaction, especially after teasing you, but he was definitely the most skilled you had ever had. His strong tongue flicked against your clit back and forth before coming back down. He pushed himself in between your folds and curved his tongue in and out of you, sucking on any part of skin he could find. You held his mouth to your entrance by the soft curls tightly grasped in your hand, as you could feel your arousal building quickly.

Your voice grew desperate and needy, something you didn’t recognize and you wondered who this person was. “Oh god… oh god… oh god,” you started to chant, body shaking as you felt the bundle of nerves in you begin to tighten. He went back and forth between sucking on your clit to licking fast lines up and down your folds, his hands holding onto your thighs intensely. You could see the veins in his toned arms bulge and part of his hair in his face as he continued his assault on you, working you towards your end.

You had thought to yourself, you never wanted this feeling to end, but you desperately needed to feel the band that was tightly wound in you snap, spreading your warmth all over his pretty, little tongue. He dipped his tongue into your folds again, nose bumping against your clit as he relentlessly moved in and out of you. The electricity in you building and building until you felt yourself ready to tip over. His tongue pushed into you once more and you finally toppled over that cliff that had been building in you. You let go, rolling your head back against the plush fabric and let out a lengthy and sensual moan. Your hips moved against his mouth, riding out every wave of pleasure he gave you.

He licked up every ounce of wetness that came out of you, savoring in the taste of you on his tongue, before you pulled his head back from the overstimulation. You looked properly fucked out, he thought, sitting up and smirking to himself while wiping the rest of your essence from his face with the back of his hand. You let out one last, deep breath before taking your time sitting up and stretching.

“Well, that was – fun,” you said, for lack of better word, your voice sounding exhausted.

“Yeah,” he agreed laughing and shyly scratching the back of his head as you got off the bed. There were clothes all over the floor but it wasn’t too difficult to differentiate yours from his. You found your still damp panties and begrudgingly put them on, while spotting your black dress and picking it up. Turning around, you found Jim back in his jeans, buttoning them while looking for this white t-shirt. You felt a little awkward not really knowing what to say to him, so you just focused on pulling your dress up your body and putting your arms through the straps, adjusting it to your liking. As you spotted your heels and made your way towards them, you glanced at your phone to check the time and instead found two texts from Ali.

[Alison]: Where are you???

[Alison]: Y/N, are you getting fucked?? Tell me!!!

It had been about thirty minutes since her last text and you winced a little at the urgency and excitement in her messages. After putting your black heels on and smoothing out your dress you glanced over at Jim to find him fully dressed, jean jacket and all, with his eyebrows furrowed, staring intently at his phone. You stood there awkwardly for a moment expecting him to look up, before grabbing your cup on the dresser and heading towards the door.

“So… Um…” you started, not really knowing exactly what to say, while you held the door open half way, the music from downstairs flooding in.

He still stared at his phone as he muttered, “Shit, I have to go.” He started to get up, taking his eyes off of the screen and running his hand through his hair. You assumed this was his way of getting out of having to spend any extra time with you, which you were happy to play along with. It could always be awkward after hooking up with someone; you never really could tell how somebody would react. And since you weren’t exactly the warm and cuddly type, you had found yourself in a couple of previous predicaments where you have had to literally sneak out of the room, needing to escape from your lovers’ soft eyes and warm arms. You found that you were okay with sexual experiences, but once it turned emotional or loving in any way, you couldn’t leave fast enough. And Jim seemed to be right on par with you as he created this “fake scenario”, you thought to yourself.

“Okay – Well, bye!” you gave him one last smile before opening the door fully. The last thing you saw before walking out into the hallway was Jim’s face contorted in confusion and, was that – sadness?

#jim mason x reader #jim mason #jim mason fic #jim mason imagine #cody fern #the tribes of palos verdes #my writing

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