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minerstatus · 4 years ago

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Teyvat’s School for the Gifted

Summary: He's cruel, mean, and sadistic. Lumine cannot fathom why he has the followers he does, but she won't fall into his hands like the rest of them. It was unknown to her at that time how such a stance would cause the biggest uproar the schools ever seen.

This is the silly drama filled high school/college parody AU nobody asked for filled with Lumine not giving a shit and Childe trying to buy his way out of problems.

Ship: Lumine/Childe

Tags: Highschool AU, Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Jealousy, lots of side ships.

Status: 5/? on Ao3

Chapter 1

The school located on an island inside the neutral zones between nations is a blessing for anyone without a swimming pool filled with mora. Without money you have to be gifted a vision to attend. That is why Lumine thought she would never be accepted to such a place. Instead cursed to live her life on a small farm on the outskirts of Mondstadt, killing small monsters for money to aid her ailing mother.

She had become quite the prodigy around the area. Her sword work was nothing to be trifled with. Some would even gush about what it would be like if she did have a vision. Then it happened, a strange string of life changing events.

She enjoyed spending her free time sitting under the statue of the seven in windrise. It gave her a reprieve from her day-to-day life of school, killing, then sleep. She polished her blade most days she sat there, enjoying the sounds of the wilderness around her.

As she sheathed her blade, wistfully thinking about what it would be like to magically summon and desummon it as a vision user, a light began to shine behind her. There was a flash, she thought maybe a vision might appear in front of her. But this was no test or life changing event. It didn’t make sense.

Wind surrounded her body, lifting her skit in the breeze. She turned, it followed with her. She lifted her hand as a power surged through her. A burst of wind jetted from her palm and sliced across the water. It trimmed the tops off the over grown grasses lining the ponds edge. The wind died down and left her for elsewhere as the light slowly faded out of existence.

Befuddled, she stared at the palms of her hands. She felt a power emanating from her core. With a trembling arm she raised her palm again, calling forth on the energy. It darted from her as before. Shocked, she tried it again and again, smiling gleefully with each blast of wind. She twirled around, searching for her vision, but came up empty.

That is how the first visionless anemo user was born. At first people didn’t believe her. Delusions were not unknown to the common folk of Teyvat. They were a staple favorite of the mafia families across the regions. But she quickly smashed those theories to pieces. Not only was she a poor farm girl fighting to survive, but where on earth would she have the money to afford such a thing. She allowed an inspection of her things and a pat down to prove it.

After the authorities decided that she did not have a vision she was free to do as she wished. That was until the head master of Teyvat’s school for the gifted showed up on her doorstep. The scholarship she was offered would give more money to her mother per month than she could in six months of hunting. She took it without question.

That’s how she ended up here, gawking at the building in front of her. The school defied the rumors. Statues carved from marble, fountains that defied gravity, even the wood it was built from looked impossibly expensive. Heck, the wildlife looked like they ate from golden platters.

The only thing that held her from running right back to the boat was a woman pinning her down with a chemically assisted cheerful gaze. A shiver ran up her spine as she waved her over. She obliged only because her eyes looked a hair away from snapping into crazy land.

“Welcome to Teyvat’s finest Lumine!” She cheered and began to clap.

“Thanks,” She mumbled, intimidated by her nature. She looked like a robot. Sleek black hair, not a strand out of place. Perfectly pressed blazer and pencil skirt in matching shades. Her glasses glistening in the sunlight, even if they were just plain black frames. She hoped not everyone in this school looked or felt this way.

“Follow me and I'll take you to your dorm. Then it’s a trip around campus!” She quipped then turned on her heel. Even her footsteps were a perfect tempo.

They walked through the faculty building, which thankfully looked normal inside. The site quelled her turning stomach. It was into the garden next that, as expected, looked immaculate. They even had a massive sand garden. Back in Mondstadt something like that would be destroyed in seconds.

Eventually they came upon another wooden building with a large ‘girls’ over it. The woman stopped and spun so fast on her heel Lumine almost let out small scream.

“This is the girl's dorm; your roommates are waiting for you inside with your things. I'll be back in thirty minutes for the rest of the tour,” she said, smile never once faltering as she left Lumine to her own devices.

Her roommates were nice, they greeted her in the common room just as her guide stated. Amber was a bit too enthusiastic for just about anything. Barbara was a very cheerful girl but was more reserved. It was a breath of fresh air to see two friendly faces. They led her to their dorm to get settled.

“So, what do you think?” Amber asked as Lumine began to unpack her luggage. Placing her uniforms carefully into her small closet along with her own casual clothing. Her own things almost felt dirty comparted to the schools uniform she was provided. And the room was much bigger than what she expected from a dormitory.

“It's overwhelming,” She admitted.

“You'll get used to it,” Amber laughed.

“Are you?” Lumine began to ask.

“Scholarship,” Amber answered, holding up her vision, “They keep the poor kids together so we don’t infect the rich kids.” She laughed.

“Hey!” Barbara yelled at her. Lips pointing into a pout.

“Except for Barbara, she requested to room with me. She's the exception.” Amber smiled at her friend.

“So, it's exactly how I thought it would be,” Lumine grumbled. This school was probably dripping with rich kids causing trouble for the normal folk, like she expected.

“Some of the students are alright, indifferent you might say. But there are,” Amber held up her hands as air quotes, “those types.”

“Will you guys be in my classes?” She asked.

“Nope, third years!”

Lumine felt her insides twist. Great, now she would be alone on her first day. At least her dorm would be nice. Amber was warm and friendly and Barbara seemed sweet even if she wasn’t talking as much. The pair would only be a year below her so they were still close in age. Hopefully she wouldn’t be moved to another dorm with the ‘adults’ if she attends the next four years after this one.

“You don’t want to be in our year anyways,” Barbara laughed.

“Whys that?” Lumine felt a small smile form for the first time since she set foot on the island. Barbara wiggled her eyebrows and gleamed over at Amber. She turned red in response and threw a pillow at her.

“Stop! Its not my fault!” She shouted.

“It’s gross the way he drools over his desk for you,” Barbara added.

“Mind filling me in?” Lumine asked.

“No!” Amber shouted.

“She has this wolf boy that follows her around and causes trouble. Its adorable,” Barbara said anyways.

“I didn’t ask for it he just did it!” Amber defended herself.

“It's like a comedy slash horror show every day,” Barbara giggled.

“Stop teasing me,” Amber whined.

“Wolf boy?” Lumine asked. Mondstadt had a steady population of people descendant of shape shifters or animals, but she had never seen a wolf before. Most of them were cats. Granted, she did keep to herself and didn’t really mix with the town folk, even at school.

“Half werewolf, half human, grew up in the wild before coming here earlier in the year,” Amber explained.

“He can smell everything, it's awful,” Barbara moaned, “one time I tried to bring some leftovers from lunch and he almost ripped apart my bag looking for it.”

“Sounds like a nice boyfriend,” Lumine said, hiding her smile as she sorted items into her desk drawers. Amber gasped from behind her. She swallowed a laugh.

“H-he's not my boyfriend!” She yelled. Lumine busted and began to giggled along with Barbara. She was interested in seeing the exchanges between the two now.

“Very funny guys, I'll make sure to make fun of your pain in suffering next time I get the chance.” Amber crossed her arms.

“Alright I'll stop,” Barbara waved her hand at her. A sharp knock on the door quickly soured the cheerful mood. The door swung open and Lumine’s guide walked in.

“Fantastic, I'm so glad you are getting along with your new housemates. We must complete the tour now.” The woman said, still as cheerful as ever. Lumine noticed Barbara and Ambers shoulders fell on her entrance. “I'll be waiting out front,” she chirped and left.

“God, Mrs.Lee always gives me the creeps,” Amber said.

“Glad it's not just me,” Lumine laughed as she stood.

“Good luck! See you at dinner,” Amber waved as Lumine exited the room. She heard faint whispers of gossip as she left but knew it was nothing bad, those girls didn’t have a mean bone in them.

They walked around campus and Lumine slowly became accustomed to the wildly expensive taste. She was shown the inside of the year one through four buildings, for the fourteen-to-eighteen-year old's. Then the outside of the adult facilities. Mrs. Lee assured the only real difference between the two was the uniform requirement and some extra freedoms.

After taking the tour she felt less overwhelmed, but it was the final stop that really cemented the reality most of the students lived in. It was the cafeteria of the school, but should have been classified as a food court. There was the line for the scholarship students where they could use one of three free meal tickets per day, or a snack coupon, all loaded onto her school ID. Wich was normal, same thing that she had in Mondstadt, minus the dinner.

What was different was the restaurants lining the walls. Everything you could imagine from each region on tap. And the prices were nothing to scoff at. A Fishermans toast was going for ten thousand mora, she could make that for less than three hundred back home. Lines scaled out to the isles as students waited, eager to be robbed for food.

“Lumine!” A familiar voice shouted. She sighed in relief. A distraction to this insanity was required right about now. She carried her tray adorned with less appetizing food from the school over to the table Amber sat at.

“This place is crazy,” Lumine sighed in exhaustion.

“My first day I ran away,” Amber laughed. She placed a spoon full of mac and cheese into her mouth.

“Those prices are more than I make in three weeks back home,” She said as she began to eat. Pleasantly surprised that even the free food was delectable. The pasta was perfectly cooked, cheese sauce an ideal creamy texture. She moved on to nibble at her cookie, baked expertly with a crispy outside and a gooey center. “God,” she murmured, savoring the taste.

“I told you, you get used to it,” Amber smiled sweetly. A book bag slamming down on the table instantly cleared her face. She looked up to see what she assumed was the wolf boy from earlier discussions. Lumine wondered why Amber felt it was bad to have his attention. He was attractive, silver hair and red eyes, giving him an exotic look. His arms were coated in scars and a massive one gashed his face, not a bad look if your into that type. Some of the girls back home would swoon over the attention.

“Why,” She groaned as he pulled out a seat, pushing it right up against hers as he sat a plate of meat and potatoes down. It must have been one of the free creature meals from the school line. He sat, making sure he was as close as physically possible to her.

Okay, maybe that’s why. Lumine began to understand.

He tilted his head like a new puppy, “Why?” He asked, voice thick with an unknown accent.

“We talked about this,” She shoved his chair away. “This is Razor,” She sighed as he sunk into his chair to pout. Lumine nodded and greeted him with a smile.

“I bought brownies!” Barbara sang as she skipped over to the table, “For our new friend,” She handed out the sweets, “And beef jerky for you,” She said as she handed Razor a slim piece of dried meat. He perked up and took it, chewing on it greedily. After the experience with the cookie Lumine thought the food couldn’t get better. But the brownie was smooth decadent layers of velvet chocolate that melted in her mouth. She had to suppress a groan.

There was a pickup of chatter in the room that pulled her from her chocolate induced fantasy. She looked towards the entrance of the café where a group of boys walked in. They were followed by a gaggle of other students, mostly female, all adorned with an expensive accessory or more.

Lumine was an honest person and she did not deny to herself that these boys looked like royalty. They walked with an air of confidence even through the crowd, knowing that the sea of students would part for them. She counted each of their visions, anemo, geo, cryo and hydro. There was a distinct leader to the group out of the four. A redhead who wore his vision on his belt, showing it off by messily tucking in half of his unkept shirt. Like he wanted people to see it, unlike the rest of them that wore them on chains by their side, as did everyone else in the school.

“Don't stare,” Amber hissed. Lumine snapped her eyes to her friends.

“Who are they?” She asked. Amber eyed her wearily before divulging the information.

“Sons of the school's elite,” She glanced back at the group to ensure they were distracted with food or girls before continuing, “The shorter one with green hair is Xiao, the son of the wangshu inn owner. The geo looking guy is Zhongli from the Wangsheng funeral parlor. Blue hair is Kaeya, one of the sons from the dawn winery.” Amber stopped speaking as she got to the last subject. Lumine quirked a brow as both Barbara and Amber swiveled their heads to check on the group again.

“It's not really them you should be weary of though; besides Xiao they are nice. Xiao has always had a stick up his butt,” Barbara added to the conversation.

“Then what is it, why are we acting like we are defusing a bomb?” Lumine asked.

“It's Childe, the redhead,” Amber whispered.

“Childe? That’s a dumb name,” Lumine thought out loud. The girls hissed at her to keep her voice down.

“He smells mean,” Razor added. Amber pulled on his ear.

“I told you not to talk about him,” She growled at him. He grasped her hand in his, forcing her to release.

“But you are!” he argued.

“Thats because we are warning her!” Amber explained. Razors eyes darted from Ambers to Lumines and he resigned himself back to his half-eaten steak.

Amber rolled her eyes and turned back to Lumine, “It’s not his real name, no one even knows his real name.”

“Childe is an awful nickname,” She whispered back to her friend.

“He’s mean, and evil, once he has you in his sights there's no stopping it.” Amber warned her.

“What about his friends? Don’t they say something?” She asked.

“They are rich, us poor folk don’t matter to them even if they act cordial towards us,” Amber told her as she leaned back, “Besides you don’t have a vision, he will probably just ignore you.”

Lumine widened her eyes, “well...” She felt a tint come to her cheeks, “Actually...”

Amber slammed her fists on the table, “NO WAY! YOUR THAT GIRL!” she screamed. Drawing the attention of half the students.

“Show us!” Barbara insisted.

“Ah, I don’t think now is the best time.” Lumine tried to quell her friend's voices but both girls were oblivious to the attention they were attracting. She glanced over at the red head she was warned about to make sure he was still entranced at whatever activity he had chosen.

“Awh comon I wanna see!” Amber whined.

“First anemo user in history without a vision! Don’t hold out on us!” Barbara added.

“Fine! Just stop yelling at me,” Lumine finally conceded. She put her palm face up on the table and gathered a small amount of wind to it. It tinted green with her power as it swirled into a miniature tornado in her palm.

“This is so cool!” Amber gasped.

“It's the same as anyone else,” Lumine said, closing her hand to cease the wind. She was more than a bit tired of people going ballistic over her powers.

“Let's get back to the dorms,” Amber suggested, “We have much to talk about,” She smiled gleefully. Razor whimpered next to her, “fine you can come too,” She sighed. Razor looked up with a beaming smile.

“Boys are allowed in the girls dorms?” Lumine asked as they gathered their trays and bags.

“Only until eight with a strict open-door policy,” Barbara told her.

She hummed in response as the group made their way over to the trash bins. Eyes were on her now, some searching for a vision trinket she didn’t possess. She was the last one out the door when a chill tingled down her spin. She grabbed the back of her neck and turned, expecting a cryo user to be standing there with a smirk on their face.

Instead, she was greeted with sea blue eyes cutting through the crowd. He smirked when they made eye contact. The chill went down her entire body. She glared as the door to the building swung shut, cutting them off.

Shit.

#chilumi #childe #lumine #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction

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guiltysecretpasttime · 4 years ago

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Grey Eyes

This is in response to a prompt I received:

camryn-bria I have a Linzin headcanon that there is a secret (airbending) child. Could you write a one-shot of Tenzin finding out Lin is pregnant after breaking up with her.

I’ll probably put in a better summary, tags or notes later on. But hope you enjoy this 😊

(So I had too much fun (maybe) with this and it ended up being a two-parter rather than a one-shot, hope this is okay)

Lin/Tenzin pre-canon fanfic | 1 of 2

Legend of Korra

---

Despite what the public thought, Chief Toph Beifong was not a heartless person.

While truly a strong woman, it did not mean she did not have emotions. Family and friends played a huge role in occupying a space in her heart.

Family.

It was precisely because of family why she was pacing in front of the doctor’s examination room.

Toph closed her eyes in worry.

Of her two daughters, Lin was the one most like her.

Her youngest daughter, Suyin, at her current state, probably was who her own mother wanted her to be.

Initially scoffed at and at the brink of being of being disrespected, Toph Beifong later on was reputed to be one of the toughest police chiefs that the region has even had.

She had welcomed her daughter during her second year as a police chief of Republic City. The father, unfortunately, passed.

Lin’s father was Toph’s fellow detective. Toph had just given birth to her and was out of the force when Kanto responded to a call. He was hit and he died.

Since then, Toph promised herself that it would simply not do to miss time at work.

The first few months of raising Lin were particularly difficult. She had then elected to live near her married friends, Aang and Katara.

Toph took it hard – spent time away from Lin for the next months and sent her to Air Temple Island. She eventually got back to her senses, realizing her daughter needed her and had reached back to take care of Lin.

Lin always wanted to be like her mother and the father she barely met. Suyin, on the other hand, well, that was another story.

“Mom.”

Toph’s reverie was interrupted by the soft voice of her eldest child.

“Oh, Lin.”

In Lin’s hand was an ultrasound photo of a child, Lin took her mother’s hand and read out to her the notes on the photo.

Indeed, Lin was the child most like her mother.

---

What was he doing here? He has some nerve.

“Aunt Toph?

She tried to ignore the tall bald man in her office.

“Aunt Toph?”

Persistent little bugger, eh?

“That’s Chief Beifong to you.” She felt him squirm and fidget. “The citizens desk is on the other floor. Or have you gotten lost?”

“I, uh, no. I actually wanted to see Lin.”

“Captain Beifong, you mean.”

She felt him flinch. Good.

“I -.”

“Don’t you worry your bald head about it, Master Tenzin.” Aspersion dripping with every word. “Captain Beifong is away on suspension. She won’t be bothering you any time soon.”

“But – no! I didn’t come here to complain or file charges.” Toph could here the shock at Tenzin’s voice. “You didn’t have to – she didn’t need to be suspended!”

Chief Beifong ignored him. “Captain Beifong caused destruction to property – Air Temple Island’s reconstruction will be done soonest – and basically threatened you, a government official. She would have received worse.”

“But -.”

“Is there anything else, Councilman?”

“Uhm, no. I’ll just drop by Lin’s.”

“She not there,” Toph felt the airbender pause at her door. “She’s suspended until further notice; and she been sent away from Republic City.”

---

At least that was what the press was informed, to explain away the disappearance of a prominent person

But internally, with the higher ups in the Republic City Police Department, they knew differently. They were told that she was out undercover and they better not try to make contact – or there will be consequences.

Toph was proud of her daughter’s strategy. She had been an absentee mother in the past years. She wanted to make up for it by supporting Lin’s decisions.

Even if it meant no contact with her in the next months.

---

Lin found herself in a remote Earth Kingdom town which used to be a Fire Nation colony. She had come to this place years ago in a recon mission and had known that there were a good mix of nations, making it easy to blend in.

Her current mission was not anything dangerous – just another reconnaissance mission to look into whether there was some truth to the formation of a new organization similar to the New Ozai Society, who would seek to undermine the United Republic.

As someone fresh out of her 20s, Lin thought she was (or she should be) fit enough for the job at the local bar. Thankfully, she was able to convince the barkeep to hire her even after telling him of her predicament (she wondered if maybe the man really just needed help so badly). She also figured it was a good place to get in with the locals and, well, the local gossip.

Lin opted to keep her first name (common as it was anyway), rented a small apartment unit walking distance from the city center, and now, had landed a job (that hopefully placed her in a good spot to fulfill her mission) which paid adequate wages.

She felt she was prepared to start anew – a new job, a new mission, and a baby on the way.

---

Tenzin huffed as he consulted his map.

He had gone to Gaoling, to the Beifong ancestral home (that was were Suyin was sent there before anyway. But Lin wasn’t there.

He even went out of his way and chanced a visit to Zaofu.

Su was surprised to see him and, no, she has not seen or talked to her sister in years.

Instead, the airbender got a slap for his efforts (“You idiot! You broke my sister’s heart!” “You weren’t even talking to her! You don’t know what’s with her.” “I knew enough to know that she loves you!”).

He tossed the map aside. He was stumped; he didn’t know where else to look for Lin.

He did not even notice his mother, watching from the doorway of his study, looking at him with concern.

---

“Hey, get away from him!”

“Eh! And what’re you gunn’ do ‘bout that lady?”

“I’ll show you!”

“What the -!”

“Scram!”

“Alright, we’re going – we’re going!”

The earthbender turned to the young man on the ground (maybe late teens or early twenties in age, she guessed) who was of Water Tribe ethnicity. “Hey kid, are you okay?”

“I’m fine – didn’t need your help.” The man grumbled, standing up and dusting himself.

“Right.” The woman stated, obviously not believing it as she had just walked across the scene of several benders pulling up by his collar, whether they were mugging him or not, she did not wait to find out before launching some rocks from the road at the thieves. “Of course, you didn’t need help. You had it all in control, didn’t you?” She deadpanned.

The man rolled his eyes. “A truth seer, aren’t you?”

She crossed her arms. “Maybe.”

“No – I don’t think so.” The water tribe man shook his head. “Thanks though.”

The earthbender extended to shake his hand.

“Lin.”

He clasped it with his own.

“Noatak.”

----

Months passed and Tenzin had not lost hope in finding Lin, but he had to admit that the hope was fast dwindling.

Twice Chief Beifong had said that Captain Beifong’s whereabouts were none of his business and that she will put his sorry ass in jail if he pried once more.

Neither Chief Beifong or anyone from his family shared any input to the media as to his relationship status. The disappearance of Lin Beifong and the sudden reconstruction of some of the pavilions at Air Temple Island made up much of the chatter and gossip though.

His cheerless disposition just about confirmed everything anyway.

---

Meanwhile, in the Earth Kingdom, Lin finally gathered enough courage to send out a letter to Tenzin. She had used a post office’s box from two towns away to ensure that he would not be led directly to her should he decide to respond.

After contemplating on the matter for the past months, and after finally admitting to herself, she decided to give Tenzin the option to be a father to their child.

It was the least she could do. She did not want her (their) child to grow up without a father if he was willing to be there. She knew, she grew up with, the alternative to that.

We may no longer be together, but it does not change the fact that this child is yours as well. I’m giving you this chance – to either declare this child as your own or to simply ignore and disregard this. I am fully capable of raising this child as my own so I am open to giving you an out.

Well then, so the proverbial ball was in the airbender’s court.

Gently, placing a hand on her now visible pregnant belly, Lin knew the waiting game has started.

---

In an ill-conceived attempt to raise his spirits, the Air Acolytes of Air Temple Island saw it fit to host a birthday celebration for him. His mother had given it a go signal as she was also at her wits’ end to help bolster his mood. Even the passing of her husband (his father) did not seem to have dragged him down this way.

What Katara did not know, however, was that the press had somewhat managed to get in with the festivities as well.

The papers for the next few days ran a feature on the last airbender’s birthday celebration. They also printed a picture of him with just about any single female he talked to during the party.

This was followed by a steady stream of letters and messages poured into Air Temple Island as well as into Tenzin’s office at city hall.

The first few letters, Tenzin had deigned to read.

But after the seventeenth letter, the airbender, with a furious blush on his skin, went to the kitchen where his mother was calmly instructing an acolyte for tonight’s dinner.

“Mother!”

Katara dismissed the acolyte before turning to her son. “What is it?” She held out her hand to take one of the letters that Tenzin was waving at her.

The waterbender briefly went through the letter. It appeared that –

“They have been sending me propositions!” Tenzin exasperatedly explained, showing the envelopes with addresses coming from different parts of the world. “Ever since the broadsheets and tabloids have been putting in these features about me being single.” He continued to pace in the kitchen while Katara went through the other letters. The content was fairly similar – a Fire Nation noble offering his daughter in marriage, an Air Acoylte from the Eastern Temple sharing her daughter’s knowledge of all things Air Nomad culture, an Earth Kingdom merchant living in the upper ring boasting of his niece… “I’m not interested in any of these, Mother. I just – I just -.” He took a deep breath. “I need to find Lin. It’s only been Lin.”

Katara could believe that.

“I know – Mother, if letters come to the island for me, please send it to my office. I’ll have my secretary handle them.”

And with that, Tenzin swept away, leaving Katara to only wonder and hope that whatever he thought of would truly help him out.

---

I see.

So he has made his choice.

Lin gripped tightly the letter she received in response to the one she had sent.

She tried but there was nothing she owed him now.

The earthbender then tossed the letter into her drawer, to be hidden from prying eyes, to try and forget its existence.

Thank you for your interest but I already have a life partner.

I would like to request for your respect in this avenue and refrain from sending any more letters in this similar vein.

Respectfully yours,

Tenzin

---

Noatak knocked on the door one more time.

Lin was nearing her due date and the barkeep had place a notice for a reliever, a substitute while Lin was out.

The Water Tribe man took the opportunity – he had been juggling different jobs in town anyway so what’s one more?

Lin had been showing the ropes to him the past few days and was always ever so prompt so that they have enough time before opening.

This was why he stood at her front door now. The earthbender failed to show up at their regular time and so he worried.

“Lin? Are you there?”

There was no answer.

Something felt very wrong.

He looked to the left and looked to the right. No one was around and so putting his entire weight on it, he hit his shoulder against the door several times until it gave way.

“LIN!”

To his shock and horror, the pregnant lady slumped unconscious at her living room, blood surrounding her at the floor.

Noatak hurried to her, feeling her pulse and closing his eyes.

He had been hiding a secret for so long, no one knew in this new life he had been living. As far as they knew, he was a non-bender – no one had paused to ask, except this woman who had asked him and had graciously not pried further when he said he did not want to talk about his past. He knew she was trying to start a new life, but he wasn’t sure why. She respected him enough as well to leave him to his privacy.

That day when the muggers had almost done him in, he thought that would have been the end of it, revenge be damned. To his surprise, someone did intervene for him.

Enough reminiscing for now though, because now, this woman needed him.

Taking a deep breath, Noatak reached forward his arms, allowing him to feel the push and pull from the two lives in front of him, not in the way his father wanted him to but to save these lives.

---

Tenzin was absentmindedly tapping his pen on today’s agenda in the council meeting.

The monotony of his responsibilities to the city barely weighed on him now.

It was the same old routine at the council.

His interest was peaked when the doors opened and a man, who he recognized as Chief Beifong’s trusted secretary, hurried over to the Chief of Police’s side, whispering quickly.

Toph Beifong suddenly stood up, muttering her excuses to the rest of the attendees of the council meeting and left (something about an urgent matter regarding one of her subordinates’ mission?).

---

“Chief, it would appear that the Captain has now given birth to a daughter.”

“What! I need to get to her.”

“Unfortunately, protocols still state that no contact be made -.”

“But I’m her mother.”

“Please, Chief Beifong, Captain Beifong explicitly indicated that in her report as well. Everything is okay and not to let you go to her as it would impact her cover.”

Nonetheless, this did not stop Toph Beifong from instructing her secretary to send off a large box of baby things to a remote town in the Earth Kingdom.

---

The last airbender quickly made his way out of the restaurant where that farce of a stilted family dinner (that his mother insisted on) was still on-going.

It had been uncomfortable enough when Chief Beifong arrived, nary a word towards him but quite civil with his mother and their visitors. At some point during the meal, the Fire Lord started to pass around photographs of his teenaged grandson and even Chief Beifong was obliged to share photos of her own grandchildren.

Tenzin tried to ignore the longing gaze his mother had on the photographs.

He met the eyes of his brother, who coincidentally was stationed this week near Republic City, who in turn shrugged back at him.

Yeah, that’s not happening. Unless someone comes forward to speak up about the fruits of Bumi having sown his wild oats, their mother would need to wait a little longer to have her own grandchild.

“And who might this be?” His mother brought up a photo of a baby.

“Did Su have another child?” Fire Lord Zuko peered at the small plastic booklet that Toph had fished from her uniform’s pocket.

“Eh?” Toph reached out to get it back, fingers running through the little indentions at the edge, helping her identify the labels on the photos.

Tenzin did not miss the quick panic that showed on the metalbender’s face before it was back to her inscrutable expression.

“It’s an old photo of one of her boys.” She promptly placed the booklet of photos back into her pocket. “I must have taken it by accident.”

As the rest went about their meal, Tenzin could not help but revert to the photograph of the baby. The baby appeared to be a couple of months old and…there was something that was niggling the back of his head about the child.

Conversation went to work, the new policies in the United Forces, the statue of Fire Lord Zuko in Republic City… They were all pleasantries that Tenzin did not want to talk about.

As soon as it was acceptable, he had excused himself from dinner, citing an urgent deliverable from city hall. No one tried to stop him and everyone took it at face value. He had, after all, buried himself into work in the past months in between trying to look for Lin. The airbender simply did not believe anymore that she was merely suspended from the Force after being absent for more than a year now.

Tenzin thought that Suyin Beifong, by now, would have an idea as to her sister’s whereabouts. Recalling their last interaction, however, he rubbed his cheek gingerly in recollection, he felt he needed to soften her up first.

Coming from that awkward dinner conversation, he had an idea.

Her children!

And that was how the airbender found himself at the nearest open store that catered to mothers that carried items (food, clothes, furniture, you name it) for their children.

Tenzin had a vague recollection on how old Su’s children were. He was unsure, though, as to what do kids at those age need or want. He figured that the store’s clerk would know and headed to the store’s counter, waiting until the clerk finished assisting two ladies in selecting the best bassinet that the store offers.

The airbender leaned on the glass counter, tapping absentmindedly as he was wont to do when waiting --- when he saw a brown box just behind the counter hidden from view of the common customer (it just so happened he was tall and nosy enough to see it). There was a small sticky note that caught his attention:

Monthly order of Chief Beifong.

Why on earth would Aunt Toph have a monthly order at this place when her own children have long since grown up?

Tenzin twisted his neck to peer at the label of the box, to check the address, thinking that maybe it was headed to Zaofu for Suyin and her kids.

To his confusion, it was to a place within the Earth Kingdom.

Tenzin froze.

What if…it was to another daughter and grandchild?

The photograph!

He now realized what bothered him – the baby in the photo was relatively fair-skinned and he was sure both of Su and Baatar’s children were tanned. Su was also not pregnant back when he last saw her so it could not have been a new Zaofu Beifong baby.

Toph Beifong would be hard-pressed to care about children or babies unless they were related to her.

This left Tenzin with only one plausible explanation.

The airbender then left the store, hurriedly making plans to get to the Earth Kingdom by the next day.

----

And there she was – as radiant as the last time he saw her (never mind that it was in the middle of the unleashing of her powerful fury upon his childhood home).

With a pang, Tenzin saw Lin Beifong carrying a baby, accompanied by a tall (and very young, Tenzin thought unpleasantly) man who appeared to be of Water Tribe descent. The two were engrossed in conversation that they missed the airbender who had been staring after them.

Tenzin had arrived at the town square and was about to head to the address he had committed to memory when he saw Lin. He was about to approach her when the Water Tribe man intercepted her. The airbender noted the familiarity with which the two interacted (it felt like the air was being squeezed out of his lungs). The man offered to take what Tenzin assumed to be a baby bag and Lin had easily acquiesced.

He surreptitiously followed Lin, unsure where they were going but not wanting to take the risk of losing sight of the earthbender he had been searching for quite some time now.

As he watched every exchange of the two, Tenzin could not help but feel at a loss. He had tried to think of every possible scenario, of what he would say, what he would do once he found Lin.

But none of the scenarios he imagined prepared him for the reality.

He never did imagine finding Lin as a mother.

He never did imagine finding Lin with a partner.

And she looked – content.

Tenzin felt a pit form at the bottom of his stomach. Could he – should he – possibly ruin this with his appearance?

Call him selfish but…he’ll try just one last time. If there was an inkling, of the slightest chance of a future with Lin --- he’ll gamble it.

For himself. For Lin.

---

“Jinora, sweetheart, be a good girl for Noatak first, please? Mama needs to work for a bit.”

The eight-month-old child burrowed herself further into her mother’s arms but nodded nonetheless. “Good girl.” Lin gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead as the younger man hoisted the child, anchoring her to his hip.

Lin had gone back to work on a part-time basis, but more on the management side of the bar (accounting, menu planning, etc) rather than being actually behind the counter, serving the customers like before. The barkeep was pleased with Noatak’s performance during Lin’s maternity leave that he had decided to hire him full-time.

They would usually come to the bar before opening hours, Lin to check on the previous night’s accounting and Noatak with preparing with the rest of the crew.

Lin was scheduled to start with the local bookstore soon on her off-days from the bar.

Today, it was accounting morning at the bar. She would usually be able to have an hour or two of continuous work while the crew would take turns looking after her daughter if she were awake. If not, Jinora would be placed on her sling and Lin could still comfortably work.

Getting out several folders and her writing implements, Lin pulled out a chair near the window, preferring the natural light while working.

She managed to work for around ten minutes when a shadow fell on her work; before she could even raise her head to address who or what was blocking her light, she turned her head to the inner part of the bar as she heard her name being called.

“Liiiin!”

---

When he saw the Water Tribe man leave Lin with the child, Tenzin saw his chance.

He took some time to deliberate though; he observed her quietly, soaking in his view of the woman he had let go (and would be claiming back, if she would have him).

He took a bracing breath and entered the bar.

“Lin!”

Lin would look up at him. “Tenzin! What are you doing here?”

He would kneel – “I’m so sorry Lin, I know you have a child, I’ll love her like she were my own – I promise to treat you better than Mr Water Tribe there. Please Lin Beifong please – I regret letting you go, if you’ll have me, I’ll want to spend the rest of my life proving my devotion to you. Please- Lin please.”

Then Lin would get up, maybe give him a slap harder than what Su gave him then give him a hug before making him work for it.

Before he could even say a single word to put his imagined scenario into action, another voice (that he was starting to dislike) rang out.

“Liiiin!”

“Yes, Noatak?” Lin stood up quickly to address the young man, who was carrying a giggling baby at arm’s length. “What is it? How is Jinora?”

Tenzin felt his heart skip a beat, that Lin named her daughter one of the names he wanted for their daughter… well, he was not sure how he felt about it. Maybe he will explore it a little bit more when he was alone but for now…

“I know I helped bring her into this world –,”

Tenzin blinked at the sudden hurt he felt at his chest at this.

“But please, Lin – take your evil spawn away from me.” Noatak thrusted the still giggling child dramatically back at her mother, half kidding and half exasperated. “You know how much time it takes me each more to fix my hair. Then this little girl here,” He tickles her side and Jinora squeals with laughter. “Decides to blow a gust of air to my face – imagine that!”

The airbender heard this and froze.

“I know you said this brat (“My daughter isn’t a brat!”) is part-Water Tribe,” He gestured to his now unkempt hair. “But I don’t think this is a sign of respecting her culture?”

“My daughter is acting fine.” Jinora kicked her chubby legs as though to prove a point, disturbing the dust on the floor. “And we did discuss this – no training until she’s older. I want her to have a normal childhood.”

“Ok then,” Noatak waved his hand and nodded, obviously agreeing. “Anyway, I’m in charge of family meal today so I better start prepping.” With one last tickle at the baby’s side, he left and headed to the kitchen.

Lin shook her head and called after him “I’ll pack up and get back to the books later!” It would seem her daughter was in a mood today.

Speaking of meals…

Jinora had been tugging at her chest. “Feeding time is it?”

Tenzin watched Lin smile softly at the baby, a smile he saw rarely, a smile that he only saw between the dark of the night and daybreak, in between sleep and wakefulness as they laid in bed together.

He cleared his throat to remove a lump that was forming, a signal of impending tears.

Lin had forgotten about the newcomer as she angled the baby go position her for feeding when she heard someone clear their throat.

“I’m sorry, how can I help –,” Her eyes met familiar grey ones. “You.”

---

There was a lot to take in.

The Earth Kingdom.

Lin.

The Water Tribe man (Noatak, he spat.)

Lin.

The baby.

The airbending baby.

Jinora.

There was no doubt on whose child Lin was carrying.

Tenzin pushed forward at the surprised earthbender to take them (her and their daughter!) into his arms.

----

Note: This is part one of two --- ooor we could end it there? 🤷🏼‍♀️ Let me know!

(how do you tag people anyway?? @camryn-bria

---

2 of 2 here.

#linzin #linzin fanfic #lin beifong #tenzin #legend of korra #lok fanfic #prompt #camryn-bria #toccatina's fanfics #toccatina completed

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mayadoesfandomstuff · 4 years ago

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Okay, since I can't focus on school today despite the cramming I have to do, ig I'll work on that Hetalia Philippines headcanons list so here's some for now:

He actually thrives under a lot of things that are considered cringe. He doesn't care what people say, and his confidence shuts them up before they could say anything.

You bet that he was once a Jejemon and he wasn't ashamed at all!

He would take photos with you every time you meet even if you see each other often and regardless if he knows you well.

He expects you to post said photos almost immediately, tagged and captioned.

He plays a lot of basketball, mostly in Liga with some of the local guys around his current residence but he has been invited for a match at least once for the PBA.

He has also guested as a trainer in at least one Milo basketball training camp.

He would definitely wear a maid outfit without question. He thinks he looks cute and to hell with toxic masculinity.

He crushes on a lot of people and it does change quite frequently. He would often write songs about these people and eventually wrote a song about his many fleeting crushes. (This would be considered an OPM classic.)

He also plays a lot of instruments since he absolutely loves music. He thinks he also has a good voice regardless of training.

He likes learning different instruments no matter how strange they could be but in the absence of anything, he just makes do with any object around him to make sounds.

Aside from Pien, his tarsier, he has at least one dog that he takes care of that may or may not be his. Some of the dogs and cats he takes care of are just strays he likes feeding. They like following him around when he goes out his house.

About Historical Events and People

He only came around the start of the colonial period since there would be different kingdoms and countries before him to represent the ancient Philippine civilizations. Because of this, he's a bit insecure about himself as a country, but he's been successfully getting past that more recently.

He also looks up to a lot of the older or the OG Filipino countries and wants to learn more about the past, but they also have very conflicting memories or opinions about it much to his confusion.

He wasn't all too used to the different writing systems of the pre-colonial Philippines since he didn't really see it for too long or grew up with the writing systems, but he wanted to learn. This resulted in him ending up mixing different writing systems and letters since he tried studying them all at once.

When people ask him to write in Baybayin (the ancient Tagalog script) he has to constantly explain that he'd love to do it without reference, but he honestly can't bc of his mixed-up writing systems issue.

He genuinely thinks people overhyped Jose Rizal too much esp since he actually knew him (even if not too well, lives around the same time as him so). He respects him, of course, but he finds a little bit of irony knowing that Rizal wanted to have a pretty simple memorial after death yet a whole park is now dedicated to him in his grave (not to mention renaming a province after him too).

He also finds it funny how Rizal had such an influence even when he was still alive that people were claiming he did miracles.

He's kinda confused about the Rizalista cult though.

He has mixed feelings about historical films since he knows how inaccurate they are but it's been so long that his memory gets sorta mixed up. He doesn't rant and rave about it compared to the other nations, but some of the depictions either amuse him or upset him.

He doesn't like how divided some of his people are and how some of them fight over menial things. He also hates it when people would say uncalled for statements against people from different regions of the country.

Related to this, the regionalism reminds him of how fractured the rebellion was since there was a lot of regionalism in the Katipunan that he got annoyed of.

#hetalia #hws philippines #aph philippines #hws headcanons #aph headcanons #anw yeahh #thats what i could think of from the top of my very dizzy head

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artxyra · 5 years ago

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This is my first question ever since I downloaded tumblr, tbh. What if the Waynes including Marinette are playing Monopoly? Idk who started it (probably Tim or whoever), probably to test out Mari's luck (since you know.... she's Ladybug, symbol of luck hehehhe) then all or most of the Waynes losing their sh*t.

Do you have any idea how hard this was for me to write? I haven’t played monopoly in a very long time. Hopefully, this meets somewhat of your expectations.

How much chaos can a family create when its game night? The answer is a lot of chaos, but when they add their newest supportive sister to the mix, well no one was going to make it out alive.

Like any other game night plan, it started off with Timothy Drake sipping on a fresh cup of coffee staring off into the distance. Due to his brain no longer properly functioning by this point and Alfred not even a few feet away, the idea suddenly came to him. It’s been months since the last game night so why not now.

Alfred stops preparing breakfast to make sure that Tim was alright and after determining the young CEO was as normal as he can be, he green-lights the idea but not after a long sigh.

Tonight’s game of choice is monopoly. A very bad idea.

The board game sat on the coffee table untouched. The family of six looks at one another daring a person to take the first step. It’s Alfred that picks up the box and begins unboxing the items. It was decided after the first time the family played the game that Alfred needs to be the one to oversee the fake money, especially when it got worse when Dick somehow managed to convince Bruce to use real dollars.

Everyone chooses their pawns. Marinette claims the cat, Dick got the duck, Bruce opted for the top hat, Damian fought with Jason for the dinosaur (he won), Jason decided on the car, and Tim chose the dog. The cards are shuffled by Alfred as everyone takes a seat, respectively inches apart from one another.

The moment the last deck of cards was set down, all hell broke loose.

Tim challenged Marinette’s lucky abilities, calling her out on hit. He wasn’t laughing when Marinette kept on avoiding spots that his brothers and father began to claim as theirs. She would eventually take two of the railroads. Yeah, who’s laughing now, Timmy.

It was Jason that calls for bankruptcy first. He even had the audacity to yell at Alfred telling him to recount. Jason was too far in the negative for it to even be a thought. Damian even had to nerve to laugh at his older brother despite being threatened with a bullet to his head. Bruce and Alfred, along with his Pixie-Pop of a sister, reprimanded him it.

Now sitting off to the side pouting, Jason glares at the remainder of the active players.

Marinette ends up taking the entirety of the pink and green regions of the board and started building up to her larger buildings.

She rolls the dice, barely passing the jail. This causes another shouting match to ensure. Marinette simply smirks and shrugs them off waiting for her next turn. At this point, everyone has been to jail but her. Damian began calling her a witch right beside Tim, who only secured the yellow region with a few oranges that are currently run by Bruce. Trading was not an option; well it was at first but now not so much, they want to win to defeat Marinette. If it wasn’t for Alfred handing them the cards, cheating would be the highest bidder.

Next to call for bankruptcy was Dick. He lasted long enough to see the horrid plan that Marinette has against them. He dramatically sulks in the background. Marinette calls out to him only for him to whine louder stifling a laughter out of Marinette.

Slowly but surely, they make it around the board at least two more times before Damian was taken out. He landed in one of Marinette’s areas and brutally lost money only to be hit again by his brother.

Then there was three, two of them are businessmen and the girl with a lot luck and a business mindset under her belt. At this point, the pink, green, yellow, orange, and blue zones were taken, the rest was up for grabs. Marinette takes the light blue zones slowly cutting back their funds as Tim takes the brown and red zones, Bruce takes the rest.

Thirty minutes past before Bruce call it quits, he was only spaces ways from calling bankruptcy leaving one bloodbath to watch another.

Marinette and Tim in a hushed voice threatens one another. He was egging her one while she taunts him about losing. The family is split. Damian and Dick secretly hoping that Marinette would win while the others vote for Tim. Between the two of them, money was strong and high.

Tension rose when the two remaining players made it down to only hundreds of dollars. Marinette rolls the dice. Tim bites his lip as he tries to calculate the spaces she has to take. One more, baby one more. Her hand stops.

“No!” Tim calls out flipping the coffee table in the process. Marinette has landed on a space she owns which is one away from his own and two away from the go to jail space.

With the board collapse on the ground, Alfred taking a sip of tea. He declares Marinette the winner. Marinette sends Tim a smirk.

“I told you, I’m at games.” She says with a wink before skipping out of the room.

Tim’s winning streak on board games against his family comes to a staggering hold. His legs buckle underneath sending him into a dark cloud of depression. Dick pats his back.

“We’ll get her next time.” He says before walking out to catch up to Marinette.

“I’ll have to say Master Tim, this was an inspiring good game.” Alfred says as her picks up the pieces and place them back into the box.

Tim stays on the floor, even when the lights go out.

Legend has it that Marinette never lost a game night after that.

Permanent Tag List: @vixen-uchiha| @i-is-mysterious | @kuroko26 | @maribat-is-lifeblood |

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #ml crossover #dc crossover

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galaxy-class · 4 years ago

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Star Trek Voyager Chakotay/OC

Hello! This is the first fic I’ve ever written, it’s a 6k Chakotay/OC PWP with some fluff and touch starving sprinkled in here and there. Janeway has an honorable mention in the beginning because I love her, but this isn’t a J/C fic (at least not this time lol). Possible triggers under the cut!

Possible triggers (If you think of anything to add let me know!): Alcohol consumption, descriptions of male/female sex, themes of dominance and submission (power dynamics between commander and subordinate), mild choking (hand on throat positioning), mild restraining (holding wrists, no ropes/equipment)

A thank you to @marigoldseesstars and @burntheparameters (and other friends not on tumblr so I’m unable to tag them) for encouraging me to post! I hope you guys like it and I welcome feedback good or bad! <3

Chain of Command (Title is trash because I am trash, thank you!)

Although the Delta Quadrant was full of new experiences and discoveries, the days between each excursion were full of the necessary, albeit mundane, tasks that it takes to run a starship. Duty rosters, shift trades, meetings… Terribly dull, and yet required for the ship to function. Captain Janeway insisted on it. Looking out of some unnamed observation window with a distant gaze, she would lecture crew members who tried to oppose her strict adherence to protocol. “I know, believe me, and I’ve thought long and hard about whether or not it’s wrong for me to impose these rules on this crew, knowing that the institution upholding them is so far away… But these rules help bring us together. They give us purpose and cohesion, and remind us of our principals while we’re so far away from order and reason…” Most people stopped listening the second she got that look in her eye, knowing there isn’t any amount of complaint or protest that could change her mind. And it isn’t too terrible a concept anyway. After all, someone has to be the one to wipe off the com panels when they muck up with the fingerprints of the crew members who insist on using the touch features rather than the voice commands, and someone else has to review the available personnel to cover for Ensign Baytart’s requested personal time off and Tuvok's mandatory fitness training.

Chakotay felt the days growing shorter, while the workload of monotonous tasks crawled on before him. The days of course, where perfectly timed on the ship’s chronometer to ensure maximum efficiency among the crew while allowing for adequate time to rest and relax between shifts. It even took into account the differing night and day cycles each species had grown accustomed to on their home planets and calculated a perfect medium between the variables. What the ship’s computer did not account for however, was Chakotay’s tendency to linger in the small moments between tasks. How he would stop to appreciate the soft thread in a blanket gifted to him by a friend, or steal an extra second to smell the spices mixed in with Neelix’s latest “coffee” blend. And so, his days grew shorter, while the soft glow of the padds laid out on his work station encroached in his peripheral vision, beckoning him to finish up this week's chores.

Chakotay stood from his chair stretching his arms and looked down at the bottom of his mug, no longer filled with the thick brown liquid Neelix described as “Better than coffee.” He chuckled to himself about what a luxury real coffee had become in this quadrant. ...Duty roster.. Hmm… Why don’t I just go down to each station and see who’s available… Maybe the crew will have some personal insight I could use… His thoughts began to trail off and he found himself wandering towards stellar cartography.

As the cool metal doors slipped open, light poured in from the hall onto the darkened work stations of a diligent crew, carefully mapping out this new region of space. They had their work cut out for them, creating detailed maps based on Voyager’s data and comparing them to patchwork resources acquired along the way. Slowly adjusting their eyes to the bright light silhouetting Chakotay in the doorway, spines began to stiffen at the sight of their commanding officer. Lieutenant Kelly, who’d recently been promoted to this division, tripped over a few words beginning a report of their progress. “Sir! We didn’t expect- We’re currently running a scan on the left-”

Chakotay put his hand up in protest. “I was only wondering if anyone wanted to spend tomorrow on the bridge, Ensign Baytart requested a day off, and if I have to scroll through any more names on that padd I might just go crazy.” His expression was soft and lighthearted, but the crew shared nervous glances concerning the surprise visit from the ship’s first officer. “At ease” he insisted, and held out hope for a few more seconds that anyone would take up his offer.

“I’ve never had bridge duty before” someone spoke up from the back of the room.

“Who is that?” He asked, trying to see through the dark.

“Ensign Salva sir, I have.. some experience with being on the conn, just not Voyager’s bridge… If no one else wants the shift that is.”

Ensign Bobbi Salva was not tall and commanding, nor did her voice carry well in any way that demanded attention, but she was never one to pass up a new opportunity. What else are star ships for? In fact, she had found herself in stellar cartography on a similar request. Although she was trained as a medical assistant, she found ways into almost every corner of the ship. A recent favourite of hers being the aeroponics bay, where Kes had invited her to learn about cultivating plants after spending time with her in sickbay. “Growing a plant is just like treating a patient” Kes would say to her, “You just have to know what they need, and they can flourish on their own.” She liked Kes, they were similar in size and stature, but very different in personality in a way that complimented each other well. Bobbi had a square face, and curly dark hair which she tried a variety of ways to pull back into the intricate designs that reminded her of all ways her mother would style her beautiful curls. She had high cheekbones, and deep set eyes that sparkled with reflections of scarlet in the dark brown of their center. Sometimes she appeared to have a bluish tint, her father insisted that she was mixed with a Bolian on her cousin’s grandmother’s aunt’s side of the family, but mostly she had olive undertones on lovely brown skin.

"Salva… Aren’t you usually working in sick bay? I wasn't aware of any personnel changes in that area of the ship" Chakotay started.

"Well actually sir, it's a funny story really, me and Kes were in the aeroponics bay discussing-"

"Sir, I apologize for interrupting, but if there is nothing further we do have a few more things to get done." said Lieutenant Kelly, who was admittedly happy that Salva had found something else to do. As interesting as Bobbi found it, stellar cartography was not her strong point.

"Of course" Chakotay responded, "Salva if you'll come with me we can go over the details of the assignment. As you were Lieutenant." With that Bobbi followed Chakotay into the hall, leaving behind her curiosity for star maps and replacing it with apprehension about serving on the bridge.

"Sick bay, aeroponics, stellar cartography, is there anywhere besides the bridge you haven't been Ensign?" Chakotay chuckled.

Bobbi was struck with the sudden realization that, not only was she talking to the second highest in command on the ship, but she had neglected to inform him or anyone else about her incursions.

"I, well, only went to sections that I was invited to observe or help by other crew members, I never meant to break protocol.."

"That's alright, I was just curious." Chakotay let out a sigh. He knew most of the crew respected him, and he trusted them. In the Marquis however, things were different. Sure, he was their captain and they followed his command like any good crew would, but there was rarely tension between him and his subordinates solely on the basis of rank. Starfleet vessels are polished and prideful, and senior officers are revered for their accomplishments. Marquis ships are built on trust and bonds between crew members fighting for a cause they believe in, and sometimes respect in senior officers is only granted because they can hit harder than you can in a bar fight. A bit far off from the Starfleet sparkle of an extra pip.

Tired from his daily tasks and determined to have a sense of normalcy, he started again, “Are you looking to explore another career option? We could always use extra hands in engineering.” said Chakotay.

Bobbi let out a breath and relaxed her shoulders, realising how tense she had been. Chakotay’s warm voice and reassurance took away some of the stress she was carrying around while trying to maintain an aura of professionalism. “Actually I love sick bay. I’ve never felt more right than when I found medicine, I had changed my area of study so many times before…” A small smile escaped her lips, thinking of how many nights she spent worrying she would never find a place to fit in, now feeling so at home with a medical tricorder in her hands. “But as much as I love it, I’m still so curious about everything else. I want to see it, be a part of it for a small time. And seeing the other divisions in action reminds me just how much I love what I do.” she laughed, and looked up at Chakotay to see that he was smiling too. She never noticed before, how his face seemed to light up when he smiled, and caught herself holding her breath again.

He stopped in the hall outside of his room. “I’m glad to hear you’ve found your calling. It’s a rare gift to know where you fit in. But I’m happy you’ll be joining me on the bridge, even if it’s just one shift. How about I make us some tea and we’ll go over the details of your assignment?”

…Glad I’ll be joining him on the bridge.. ‘Joining me’ he said… Wait, his quarters? The First Officer’s quarters? Ensign Salva felt her cheeks flush, and the little slice of Bolian blue in her veins sparkled through, turning her subtle blush into a beautiful, almost purple crimson.

He was nearly caught off guard, watching her face. She’s almost glowing, I wonder what... oh I should have realised that would make her uncomfortable… “Of course we can go in the dining hall if you prefer, I just have to get the padds, I’m sorry if-”

“No no it’s alright, I could use some tea.” She looked up at him again, settling her gaze on the part in his lips forming what was going to be the next word in his apology, turning her glance quickly back towards the doors to his room. He smiled and welcomed her in.

Chakotay’s room was softly lit, and sprinkled with things that had been given to him by the people he cared about. A lovely red and orange throw blanket from his grandmother, a crystal set of whisky tumblers from an old pilot he used to know, little pieces of the people who’d helped shape him.

“Tea first, then work.” He gestured towards the couch for her to sit, and walked over to the replicator for two cups of yerba mate. A red, earthy tea, made from the leaves of a South American holly tree. One of his favourite blends that he didn’t often indulge in, because he didn’t want to spoil it. Tonight it felt appropriate.

“Bridge duty on Voyager? Maybe I need something stronger than tea.” She could feel herself smiling nervously. Why did I say that? He’s going to think I’m not up for the challenge…

Thinking for a second, tilting his head ever so slightly, “You know what you’re right. Let me get something… Here it is, warm vanilla brandy from a group of Bajorins that helped us restock on a very cold, very long night with the Marquis. It compliments the tea perfectly.” Adding the brandy to the tea, he joined her on the couch. ...What I wouldn’t give to see that lovely color in her face again… We’re supposed to be discussing bridge duty, I think…

As he sat down next to her she crossed her legs up onto the couch and held the tea in her lap, feeling the warm mug in her hands, letting the steam from the mixture of herbs and brandy curl up around her and closing her eyes for a second. Has he always been so welcoming and kind? Is he always this easy to be around? We’re supposed to be discussing bridge duty, I think…

He put his arm on the back of the couch, and rested his cheek against his fist “Where are you from?” he wondered.

“From?” she blinked

Chakotay smiled and put his hand down in his lap, mirroring her posture and feeling the warmth in the mug he was holding. “Yes, before Starfleet, did you live on Earth?”

“Oh no, I mean I’ve been there plenty of times, but my dad worked in one of the schools on Mars, he’s a teacher there for kindergarteners.” Bobbi laughed and looked up as if she was watching a memory play on the ceiling, “He used to tell stories to his kids about me being in Starfleet, he was always so proud of me. I wonder what he told them when…” She stopped and looked down, it wasn’t a happy memory any more, not knowing if he had given up hope that her ship would be found, not knowing if she had given up hope that they would make it back either.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Chakotay reached his hand out to put his palm on her knee. “We’ll make it back, I have to believe that. I’m sure your father misses you a great deal.” He let out a small smile, “Honestly I would miss you too, you seem like that type of person, who sticks with someone when you’ve gone.” He didn’t even notice that he had moved closer to her.

He may not have noticed his movement, but she was acutely aware of his hand on her leg, and the distance closing between them. She noticed that she leaned into his touch, and she noticed that she was hanging onto every word in that soothing deep tone of his. “I.. thank you sir.” Bobbi felt her cheeks flush again, and cast her eyes down at his hand. Am I flirting with the first officer? Is… Is the first officer flirting with me? She felt the brandy warming her stomach and a prickle at the tips of her fingers. Oh, this is real alcohol she thought for a second. It had been a while since she had the comfort of a genuine drink, and synthehol just doesn’t have that same feeling.

He paused for a second at the sight of her. That wonderful color, shading the edges of her cheeks and the tips of her ears, stole the words he was trying to formulate. Chakotay didn’t usually like being called “sir,” he always thought it sounded a little pretentious, and while he understood and respected the purpose of formality on a ship, sometimes he just wanted a regular conversation. So then, why did it sound so good when she said it? He was fighting a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, and felt that same warmth in his veins from the brandy that he hadn’t felt in some time.

“I really appreciate you making me feel so... welcome.” She said, unsure if she should change the subject or push it further. She reached over and placed her cup on the coffee table, and watched as he mirrored her movement, setting his down as well. “I couldn’t have been your first choice for Baytart’s replacement, but I appreciate the opportunity, sir.” she finished, deciding to turn the conversation back to work. Even still, she couldn’t help but wonder where it might have gone instead. I’ve got to be reading too much into this… There’s no way he’s... I just need to get my thoughts together for a second…

There it is again, ‘Sir’... It felt like honey coming off her lips. The way she said it, like she didn’t need to say it, like she had an inside joke and it was a challenge. “Honestly” Chakotay responded, trying not to linger too long on the thought, “I had no idea who I was going to pick. I spent so long looking at names on a screen, I just had to see someone face to face instead.” This time he did notice that his hand was still on her knee and he had, in fact, moved closer to her. He noticed too that she’d shifted positions and now the other leg was down on the floor, pushing her very slightly closer to him. Before he realised what he was saying, he started saying it. “I’m glad it was you that decided to say something, and that you came with me tonight. That subtle blue is so beautiful in your skin, has anyone ever mentioned that before?” His voice grew quieter and deeper, his eyes trailed across the line of her jaw.

Oh… This wasn’t her over thinking anything, she realised. And now that she had figured it out, she wasn’t letting it go. Now it was a challenge, if it wasn’t before. Her eyelids lowered and she chose her words carefully, curious how far he was willing to take this conversation without her making it too easy. “Is that so? No, I don’t think I’ve been told that before.” Bobbi could still feel the heat in her face, and was finding it more and more difficult to take her focus off his lips, his shoulders, the feeling of his hand still on her leg, until she felt herself reach down and softly lace her fingers onto the spaces between his. It was almost jarring, how incredible it felt, the softness and warmth of his hand, all from a very small touch that she didn’t realise she needed until it was so obvious that she needed it.

Chakotay could tell she was playing at something and could see the twitch of excitement on her face, even though she answered him so sparingly. …’Is that so’ Oh, I think you know it is, and I would love to see what else you know… But the feeling of her hand on his brought him out of his trance. He looked down at her delicate fingers fitting perfectly between his, knowing how good it felt to be touched. “Ensign… Bobbi. This wasn’t my intention with bringing you here. If you’re not comfortable, I would never impose…” He tilted his head back up to meet her gaze, “What I mean to say is that I don’t want to cross any boundaries you might have.”

“Commander, I could say the same to you. But I think, if it’s alright, that I would like to stay for a little while.” She held his stare intently while she spoke, to be sure he would not miss-hear her words. No, commander, I do think I will stay here with you… I think that’s exactly what I want to do. Again, her eyes found his lips, and she moved closer to his seat, sliding his hand with hers further up to the soft middle of her thigh. His fingers tightened their grip just slightly, like he couldn’t help it, like he had to feel more of her, and she nearly lost all of her focus at once. Not yet, she thought, I want to see what you do. You’re the commander, after all, so make a decision. Make a command. Dizzy with the thoughts of what he might do, she waited, giving him no more before he would respond.

Commander… Say it again… “Then stay.” He placed his hand gently on her cheek, using his thumb to feel the curves of her face before pulling her to him until their foreheads met. “I’m going to kiss you.” It wasn’t a question, his voice was deep and quiet, and full of desire.

“Then do it.” She whispered. He smelled sweet like the vanilla brandy mixed with the faintest trace of eucalyptus, and his hand felt strong on her face. She could barely contain her composure, waiting for his lips to meet hers.

Her words felt like another challenge, and without hesitation he pressed his lips onto hers and felt her whole body melt into him. His hand slid up her thigh to around her waist, pulling her deeper into him, and he moved the other hand to the base of her neck where he could feel her draw in a breath between each kiss. She let out a moan that he could feel with the hand on her throat, and he pushed her back gently, stopping her in the middle of her ecstasy. Lifting a thumb to her chin, he pulled down and parted her lips with his hand, and drew his face in close again, just barely brushing the surface of her mouth with his own. “I like that sound, does this feel good?” While he asked, his other hand trailed along the inside of her thigh, making her gasp. “No, I asked you a question. Does that feel good?” His fingers tightened their grip on her leg.

“Yes.” She whispered again. How could it not feel good? Please... The strength of his hands, his lips, his tongue, he was intoxicating, and she didn’t want him to stop.

“Good.” His lips were still brushing hers, he felt her trying to move forward and pushed her back again. “You want more?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what? You weren’t so shy before calling me ‘sir’ and ‘commander’. I even thought you liked it.”

Her eyes turned sharp and hungry, and she waited just a little while, testing his patience until she felt another squeez on her thigh. He wanted to hear her say it.

“Yes, sir. I want more.”

This time it was him that let out a moan as he pulled her back. He wanted more too, her skin, her warmth, he wanted to feel every part of her, and more than that, he wanted to make her feel good and watch her move and gasp with every new touch. She smelled like clove and she was soft, so soft he didn’t want to hurt her by gripping her too tight, but everytime he strengthened his grip he felt her lean further into it, deepening her intensity. He stopped her again, this time putting distance between them. “Stand up.” Chakotay ordered. He looked up at her and smiled with that warm inviting smile as she stood. “Good girl. I want you to take off your uniform, I want to look at you, will you do that?”

“Yes sir.” She turned away from him, and when he started to speak out in protest she silenced him with a look. He was driving her wild with anticipation and now it was her turn. Very slowly she began to undo her clothes, leaving the back open for a few seconds before carefully pulling off one shoulder, then the other, and sliding out each arm purposefully, drawing the fabric down the length of her arms and past her hands, but holding up the front to keep herself covered. Then she slowly turned to face Chakotay. His expression was intense, his lips parted at the sight of her and his hand was drawn up in his lap as if he was going to start pleasuring himself to her, but he stayed very still instead, watching her movements intently. She nearly forgot what she was doing when she saw him looking at her like that, like she was the most amazing thing he had ever seen.

He waited patiently, saying nothing. She continued with her game, pulling the fabric slowly off each leg while holding the bulk of it in front of her with the other arm. Chakotay leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, eagerly watching her every move. Once the final items of clothing were removed, and she stood in front of him with only the drape of an empty uniform left to cover her, she took a step closer to him and left the last of the fabric to fall on the ground around her. He sat entranced in her shape only briefly before reaching up to grab her hand, pulling her into his lap.

Her hands rested on his chest, and she straddled his lap. She was surprised at how comfortable he was physically, and how easy it was to follow his direction. It felt natural, like a game they were playing that they both knew the rules to, and she was fixated on his every next move. His hands began to move up her thighs, onto her hips, up her waist, and up the sides of her breasts to her shoulders. She held her breath, he wasn’t really touching her, not completely. Still dancing around the edges, making her wait, making her want him. One hand curled around the nape of her neck, and the other slid back down to her hips as she let out the breath she was holding in.

“Look at you, you look stunning.” Both of his hands moved to her breasts and his feather light touch cupped them and brushed his thumbs over her nipples. She lifted her head back and groaned, reaching a hand down to touch herself, but Chakotay grabbed her wrist and stopped her. “No, not yet.” He was still softly stroking her hard nipple with his thumb while holding her wrist away from herself.

“Please?” She let out a whimper.

“Please what?” He said.

“Please, I want yo-” She groaned again, interrupting her words and her thoughts with the feeling his hands were providing.

He chuckled at her reaction to his touch and felt her squirm in his lap. “Please what?” he said again, and gently squeezed her breast in his hand, shifting his grip to use his index finger to tease her instead of his thumb.

“Please, I want you to fuck me.”

“Is that how you refer to me?” His hand moved up from her breast to her neck, with his index finger resting on the line of her jaw putting a small amount of pressure on her throat, just enough to notice. His other hand let go of her wrist daring her to try again, and moved to undo his own uniform. “You were doing so well before. If that’s really what you want then you’ll have to ask me the right way.”

She watched as he unfastened his uniform and took the length of his cock into his hand, touching himself like he wouldn’t allow her to do, and she was breathless again. He pulled her face close to his with the hand around her neck, and continued to stroke the length of his shaft underneath her. She whimpered thinking about how good he would feel inside of her. He could feel the tension in her legs, and he knew she could only go so much longer before it would become too much. “Go on, say it.” He said between stolen kisses on her open mouth.

“Please sir, I want you to fuck me.”

Chakotay took his hand from himself and reached up to her pussy, feeling the wetness between her lips, sliding his fingers up onto her clit and massaging it slowly. She groaned deeply at his touch and her hips began to sway in motion with his fingers. “There, that wasn’t so hard. I want to hear you moan.” He worked his fingers faster on her clit and felt her body reacting in waves to the feeling.

It felt so good, that’s really the best way to describe it. It felt so good and she felt herself move along with him, her muscles tensing and releasing with his changes in speed and pressure. “Mm it feels so good, don’t sto-” she moaned again, louder this time. And just as she was about to direct him not to, he stopped and pulled his hand away, back to himself. “You’re not done yet.” Bringing her up to that edge, watching her body, her face, he loved every second of it. With one hand still around her throat, he pushed her off his lap so they were both standing and kissed her deeply, letting his other hand explore her curves.

“Wait.” It was her turn again. She pushed him away for a second and he waited to listen to her demands. “Let me take off your uniform.” He smiled as she moved her hands over the fabric, as slowly as she did for herself she unfastened his shirt and slid it off his broad shoulders, then moved to his undershirt, giving him light kisses on the stomach and chest as she pulled it up over his head. His pants, which were already partially undone, were the easiest to remove. She found herself laughing with him as he tried to step out of them after they pooled around his ankles, falling back onto the couch and taking her with him. Their laughter moved their bodies on one another in a way that brought her closer to him, and she could feel his warm skin against hers. She layed on top of him for a second, feeling him breathe, listening to his heart beat, and feeling his arms coil around her again.

His hands began to explore, and he felt her shifting on top of him. She sat up looking at him, and his hands slid back up to cup her breasts then back down again so his thumbs were resting on her sex. He began to rub her clit with his thumbs, watching her move to the feeling and moan. He reached for his cock with one hand, and pulled it up to slide between her pussy lips, not letting her have it inside her just yet, rubbing the tip against her clit and letting her wetness cover it’s length. She moaned, the most beautiful sound in the world, and grinded her hips back and forth over the length of his cock. She tried to reach down again to touch herself and intensify the feeling, but he pulled her wrist and sat up slightly, bringing both hands behind her back. “Not yet.” he whispered. He kissed up her neck, brushing his lips against her as he moved and she lifted her head back to feel his mouth and tongue on her skin.

“You feel so good Bobbi.” Chakotay let out a moan, and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her around underneath him. His hips slid between her legs and he paused for another second, putting his hand back around her neck drawing her focus up at him. “Tell me what you want.”

She could barely form the words now, her head still spinning from the feeling of grinding on top of him. “I want to feel you inside of me, I want you to fuck me.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes, sir.”

Her words were ringing in his ears …’yes, sir’... and he thrusted the length of his cock deep inside of her wet pussy, watching her face change as she gasped when he filled her. She moaned into his thrusts, and floated her hands up his arms onto his shoulders where she dug in her nails to his back. He felt her nails pierce his skin and thrusted deeper, and her hips matched his rhythm pushing herself harder onto him. His grip on her throat tightened slightly, and he pulled himself up to watch her body move and quiver. Her moans became louder and surrounded him, and he slowed his pace, carefully feeling every inch coming in and out of her.

Her sex was like velvet, soft and hot around his cock, he moaned at the feeling of her legs beginning to shake. He came to a stop still inside of her and watched her hips squirm around him. Slowly pulling out, he took his hand off her neck and moved it back onto her clit, rubbing slow circles with the pads of his fingers. Waves of pleasure were washing over her as she moaned again. “Turn over.” he said, still rubbing her clit. She groaned and pushed her hips into his hand. He leaned down to kiss her, and said in a low voice in her ear, “You’re not listening, I said turn over.” taking his hand away sharply, and stroking himself instead again. She sat up to turn over, and he stopped her abruptly, thrusting his fingers inside of her pulling them towards her g-spot. “What do you say?”

Her head was dizzy again, but she knew the words this time. “Yes sir.” she moaned.

“Good girl.” Chakotay kissed her again.

She turned over with one knee on the couch and the other leg extended down to the floor, not bothering to hold herself up, she let her back arch and her arms slide forwards above her head. His hands trailed her spine and the curve of her hips before he thrusted into her again. She let out a cry from the pleasure, the change in position reaching new parts of herself. He filled her again and again, grabbing her hips to thrust harder and deeper, listening to her cries and moans change with his changes. “Fuck” she moaned again, “Oh fuck” her body was starting to tense and quiver, and he responded thrusting faster. “Please, you feel so good” she mumbled into the cushion between gasps.

It felt so good to be inside of her, but hearing her say it brought him over the edge. He started to moan, thrusting harder and deeper, and bent down over her to pull her further into him, reaching a hand around to massage her clit while she quivered and begged. He spoke into her ear again in that low commanding voice “Tell me again, the right way.”

“You feel so good inside of me sir, please don’t stop” She barely made the sentence out before she started shaking again with waves of pleasure.

Chakotay felt her orgasam around his cock from the tightening pulses, and slowed his pace to match her body. “Do you want me to keep going?” He asked gently, knowing she might not tolerate more.

She lazily nodded her head, and mumbled into the cushion again “mhm.”

He chuckled at her response, and paused inside of her. “Turn over again.” She did so without hesitation. “That’s not right, what do you say?”

“Yes sir.” She smiled up at him, like she had almost gotten away with it.

In that moment she had the most beautiful smile in the world. He couldn't help but kiss her again, and again, and trailed down her chest, and breasts, and stomach, kissing her all the way until his mouth found her sex. She gasped again, as he slowly dragged his tongue over her clit, moving softly and carefully. She tasted like heaven, and she squirmed as his tongue began to flick faster. He thrusted his fingers inside of her, and started to suck on her clit, looking up as her body moved and swayed with his actions. Her hands curled into his hair, pulling his face down into her pussy. He reached down with his other hand and stroked himself again, before sitting up and putting the length of his cock back inside of her.

She let out another gasp, and he began to thrust rhythmically with her hips pushing into him. He stayed with his body pressed against hers this time, feeling her every movement. Her moans became more intense, and he moved faster letting out moans of his own from the feeling of her body pressed up against him. “I’m going to come.” no longer able to resist the feeling, he managed the words between thrusts.

“I want you to cum inside me.” She responded, feeling the length of him and hearing his moans, knowing it was her turn again.

He had no time to correct her with their little game, he could feel his orgasam pulsing in her as he thrusted deeply one last time, feeling the waves flow through him, and cumming inside of her. She could feel the heat from the cum running down onto her thighs, and the pulses in his cock as he remained still. They breathed deeply together, being still, feeling each other's breath, dizzy from the orgasams, and happy.

A small laugh escaped Bobbi as she felt the weight of Chakotay laying ontop of her, and he started to laugh too. Before they knew it they were both laughing together, a mess on the couch. She sat up with him and curled into his arms. It still felt so good to be touched, by someone, by anyone. They were all alone together in this quadrant, and neither of them knew exactly how much they needed it, that is right up until they knew how much they needed it.

#voyager #star trek #chakotay #fic #lemons #star trek voyager #mine #fanfic #oc #6k #pwp #smut #writing

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cutesuki--bakugou · 5 years ago

Text

What I Needed

@bnha-christmas2019 | Day 27: Company Party, “I thought you said you weren’t going to come>” | Bakugou x Fem!Reader | Explicit | Cursing, Sex, Oral Sex, Alcohol Consumption, Soft Baku, Comfort, Confessions

Words: 7228 Genre: Romance / Angst / Humor

Please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Having his own hero agency was everything Bakugou had ever wanted. He had power, fame, popularity, influence and the high social status that came with being one of the top heroes in the county, just like he had always dreamed. In his late twenties, his life was exactly how he had wanted it, but there were some… responsibilities that he, in all honesty, despised. Fame came with the need to socialize, to have a decent relationship with not only his fans, but the people he worked with. Sure, this wasn’t the first time he had to throw a company party, nor was it the biggest he had ever done, but that didn’t make it any less irritating.

A party to celebrate the holiday and new year weren’t anything to bat an eye at, especially not when it was open to any hero from any agency that wanted to participate. For less successful heroes or those still growing their reputation, who wouldn’t jump on the chance to party with the greatest heroes in the country? It wasn’t just Bakugou mingling around in the giant ballroom in the basement floor of his agency. Midoriya Izuku was here somewhere, as was Todoroki Shoto and others whom had grown the ranks with Bakugou from high school. There were even some older heroes present, old mentors and teaches. Friends and rivals alike were invited.

And that included you.

What were you to Bakugou, really? Were you a friend? A rival? Competition? His crush? All the above, if he were honest with himself, but calling you his ‘crush’ made him feel like a child. His feelings for you being just a ‘crush’ were a huge understatement. No, he had more than just a crush. In truth, he was head over heels for you, even surprising himself with how deeply he felt.

It had been like this since high school. He hated you at first, as he did everyone, but there was something about you that called to him. Did he ever act on it? Of course not. All his focus was on school, on training, internships and pushing himself to the highest degree he could manage. He had no time for girls, even if you were nearly irresistible. It didn’t help that it had been obvious you were into him, too. Still, all your advances were ignored, until a barrier had grown between you and nothing was achieved outside of a mildly awkward friendship.

It changed after you both graduated. For nearly two years, neither of you paid any attention to each other, until you ended up interning in the same agency. As adults, the spark was unmistakable. But Bakugou still couldn’t find it within himself to commit to a relationship, not when he was still working so hard for his goals.

That didn’t mean that he couldn’t resist you, however. Whatever relationship the two of you had was a physical one and nothing more. Fucking your brains out in the men’s locker room of the agency became almost a weekly occurrence, with many nights spent at each other’s apartments. Though, you could both admit, silently to yourselves, that there was something else there. The late nights watching stupid movies, stuffing yourselves with pizza and other shitty food, laughing and telling stories was proof enough. It was something Bakugou never wanted to lose.

Until you both became independent heroes. Bakugou left you in the dust at first, refusing to show you even an ounce of mercy when it came to bringing in villains or numbers of rescues. Being in the same region didn’t exactly help that, as his goals to be at the top wouldn’t be derailed, not even by a woman he adored. At one point, he was positive that you hated him. Your tenacity and perseverance pushed through in the end, and you climbed the ranks just as he had. The entire world saw you as rivals, and so Bakugou figured that is what you should both stay. Rivals with a past and nothing else.

Years pass with only business talk between you both, but lately, Bakugou could have sworn that spark was beginning to return. The way you looked at him and the sweet flow of your voice reminded him so much of your time together that he couldn’t resist falling for you all over again. All this time, no other woman he had slept with could compare to you, and it only grew worse the more you began to interact.

Bakugou knew that he may have everything he ever wanted in a career. But in his personal life, there was something missing. A partner, someone to spend his life with and have a family. Out of all the women he had met in his life, who had tried to woo him and gain his affection, not a single one had come as close to the level of adoration he felt for you. Even still, there was the itch in the back of his mind that he had already burned that bridge long ago. How could you possibly still care or want him after all this time and all the grief he put you through?

It was a shock to see you suddenly in the crowd of people, casually making your way to the bar with an already empty glass of champagne. That was enough to tell him that you had been here a while, so either you hadn’t seen him yet or you were just straight up avoiding him. If you were, then that bothered him quite a bit. He wanted to talk to you, to try and fix that he had broken between you. But if you didn’t want to see him, then was it really worth the effort?

“Mr. Bakugou? Did you hear my question?”

“Eh?” His attention on you broken, Bakugou’s gaze was pulled down to the woman in front of him, who was peering up at him curiously. She had been blabbering off to him for the past half hour, doing everything she possibly could to keep his focus and conversation. What she was really trying to do was obvious, with her low-cut dress and flirtatious body language. From what he had gathered, she was brand new to the hero scene, and she wanted to climb up the ladder based off networking and… sleeping with the big boys. He had considered going along with it, even though he barely remembered anything she had told him, but now he just didn’t give a shit. He just wanted to get away before he lost you in the crowd again.

“I asked if you were planning on taking in any new interns. If so, I… wanted to get my name out there. Maybe we can talk about it in private?”

“Uh, no. I’m not. Excuse me.” The way he pardoned himself was more like a demand to move, not bothering to pay attention to her whining as he squeezed himself out of the group he had been standing in. Thankfully, when he was finally free, he saw you still waiting at the bar, eyes on the bartender as they mixed up a drink. Sitting on a stool, you looked exceptionally elegant in your glittering dress, which hugged your figure. It came to a stop right above your knees, though the fabric was hiked up to your mid-thigh from your legs being crossed. The black hose you wore only hinted at the soft skin beneath, and how badly he wanted to touch you was almost suffocating.

“Thank you!” You spoke with a smile as the bartender handed your drink to you, still not having even noticed Bakugou. “Getting a lot of business, are you?”

“Ah, yeah!” The young man spoke with a pleasant grin, beginning to dry out some glasses with a rag. “These parties are always a riot! And they pay well.”

After taking a healthy sip from your drink, you leaned back a bit to sit up straighter. “I bet you’re getting amazing tips. You have to be at least a little tipsy at these parties. Especially if you’re dealing face to face with the host!”

It was then that Bakugou decided to step in, clearing his throat as he came to sit beside you. “Excuse me?”

“Oooh, well, speak of the devil.” A sly smile crossed your lips as if you had known he was there the entire time. Of course you had known, why else would you say such a teasing and rude thing to the little bartender? After two hours at this ridiculously rowdy party, you had finally found and gotten Bakugou’s attention.

Finally.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to come.” With a snap of his fingers towards the bartender, he got his attention. “Whisky.”

Ignoring his command for alcohol, you stirred your own drink with the straw. “I wasn’t at first. But everyone was talking about how big this party was going to be and how it would look good for me to show up… I decided the networking and positive publicity was worth having to suffer through your presence.”

Even though he felt a twinge of annoyance at your snarky attitude, Bakugou gave an amused scoffed, taking a hefty swig from his drink once it was placed in front of him. “You can bullshit other people, [Name], but not me. Don’t fuck around.”

“You’ve done enough fucking around for both of us, Kacchan.” Your words were tinted with ice, even though there was still a flirty heat behind them. “How does it feel? To have so much fame that all these people come just to get a chance to introduce themselves to you. Or to have women on their knees in seconds. That poor little blonde you left over there; she must be very dejected.”

“You know damn well networking irritates the shit out of me. And you’re no better. If I wasn’t sitting next to you, there would be men lining up just to be rejected by you. Why the fuck do you have to bring that shit up, anyway? Can’t we just have a normal conversation without you throwing that in my face?”

“It’s all I was to you,” Your gaze left your drink to look up at him, the man that you adored more than anything. Yet, here you were, pushing him away again with your bitterness. You had already forgiven him, for pushing you aside and abandoning what life you could have had together for his career. He seemed to be making an effort… why couldn’t you? “What else would you want to talk about? Work? Ratings? Money? That’s all you care about, so if you want to boast, then go for it. I’ll pretend to listen like you do to those girls.”

“In the past year that we’ve had more than a five-minute conversation, I’m pretty fucking sure I hadn’t said a word about myself. That’s you. You bring it up.”

With his accusation, Bakugou could see your cheeks begin to flush, your frustrations with yourself showing themselves even so slightly. He knew that forced blank expression, that stiff posture as you tried to stay strong to not let your tough front crumble. More than anything, he wished that wall you had built around yourself would crack, even just slightly, to allow him in.

“You’re the one that told me all those years ago that you only care about building your career and you wouldn’t let anything get in the way of that. So why are you even trying to talk to me right now, Kacchan? You have everything you ever wanted.”

“That’s not true. Come with me.” Bakugou stood, picking up his glass as he did. “I can’t talk to you over this fucking shit music.”

For a moment, you hesitated. You knew that if you were alone with him, you would break. All this time, you had refused to give him any more than a few minutes of your time, but it wasn’t because you hated him. You were scared that your feelings for him would explode the instant you were alone, that the craving to feel that happiness from all those years back would cause you to make a mistake.

Would it be a mistake? Or would you finally feel complete again?

With a sigh, you stood, fixing your dress back into place before snatching up your own drink and following him towards one of the many exits. Much to your annoyance, many people tried to stop you both to chit chat, or to keep Bakugou's attention as long as they could. Over and over, he either ignored or dismissed them, even people you recognized to be CEOs of huge corporations. Each time, your heart fluttered, softening your resolve until you were blushing fiercely.

Out in the hallway, Bakugou gave a heavy sigh, relieved for the music to be muffled after the door shut behind you. “Finally… I hate that shit.” Taking a few steps forward, he pushed a button on the elevator, prompting you to glance up as the number began to descend.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To my office. No one but me has a key to get in. We can be alone…”

“Don’t you think it will seem suspicious for us to go up there? People will talk.”

“People talk anyway. People were talking the instant I sat down next to you.” Bakugou’s crimson glare set off that familiar fire within you, making you clutch onto your dress with your free hand. “You think people don’t know how we used to be? We weren’t exactly subtle…”

“That was a long time ago…”

“Five years isn’t a long time. Not to forget things like that between such high-profile people.”

With a ding, the elevator opened in front of you, and with a vague gesture from Bakugou, you walked inside first. He stood beside you, and the instant the elevator door closed, the tension was almost palpable. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable tension, which you slowly came to realize as the elevator rose up to the top floor. It was a mutual wanting, some type of magnetic force that you were both fighting against with all your strength. He was so close to you, within your grasp and yet so far away.

Could you really let him back in?

Bakugou once again allowed you to exit first before following, sipping from his glass as he headed straight for his office entrance. This wasn’t the first time you had been up to this floor of his agency, but it was the first time you were going to visit his private office. Corporate meetings were held up here, just down the hall, and you had always wondered what was behind those double doors to the left.

Pulling out his ID from his pocket, he held it up in front of a sensor, which went off with a beep and the click of the doors unlocking followed. Pulling the door open, Bakugou nodded for you to go in, silent and cautious. At first, you only watched him for any signs of regret or reconsideration, but you saw none. Even your own second thoughts were hidden in the back of your mind, so you entered, a bit surprised at the perfect and professional order of his office. It wasn’t quite what you expected, but then again, there were a lot of things about Bakugou that were unexpected.

Most people would see him and instantly think ‘that man is a brute’ or ‘he’s absolutely vile’. Was he? Yes, absolutely. But there were things that only you had seen, that he would not dare share with another living soul. He had told you about his insecurities, his worries and his regrets. You had held him when he awoke in a panic, brought on by nightmares he couldn’t control. He had laughed with you about teenage memories, smiling with such sincerity that you were sure he must have been another person entirely. Even more special, the way he would caress you and kiss you with such a sweet tenderness you would just melt in his hands. He was gentle and loving behind all that explosive anger.

Loving… Were we in love? I… never really thought it would have been possible… For him to love another person. Feeling your emotions swell a bit at the thought, you struggled to restrain the burning in your eyes, refusing to cry in front of him already. How could you possibly become that weak willed just because you were alone together? Had you really put on such a strong facade for the public that you didn’t even feel like yourself anymore?

“People always assume I have everything just from what they can see.” Bakugou spoke after the door shut, gaining your attention and momentary distraction from your emotions. “This office. That’s all you see. Awards. Certificates. Success. Or at least, all what people assume success to be. And I’ve reached it faster than most… Because I worked so hard for it.” After finishing off his drink, he sat the empty glass down on the edge of his desk.

At the moment, your sharp tongue was dulled, finding that you wanted to hear what he had to say. He was speaking so calmly, as if this was something that he had been waiting for, like his speech had been rehearsed in his mind over and over. That, or he was tired of hiding his emotions.

Little did you know that both were true. Bakugou had thought about what he would say to you in a situation like this, how he would get his point across that he had made a mistake pushing you so far away. How he was going to tell you that he wanted you in his life desperately? With these desires, he knew that he couldn’t hide a single ounce of himself from you. If he did, he would lose you, and he refused to let that happen. So, no matter how embarrassing it was, how frustrated he was at trying to find the right words, he would fumble until he caught his footing.

“I wanted this.” Bakugou gestured to their surroundings. “I wanted it more than anything. I wanted it so badly that I lost sight of something that I needed. That time with you made me happier than any of this shit that I have now. And I was stupid to not realize that back then.” He came up to stand in front of you, and by now, the burning in your eyes was uncontrollable. The instant is hands came up to caress your upper arms, you lost the slim control you had, the hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I think about it all the time. How we could have spent all these years growing together. I was selfish back then… You were right to hate me for the things I did to you. For treating you like… just an obstacle in my path. Then, and now, I don’t deserve you. But I want you. And before you snap at me, it’s not just your body. I want your laugh, your smile, your support and happiness. And I want to give you mine.”

Sniffling, you felt strangled as you tried to process his words. You could tell by the softness of his tone and his touch that he was being genuine. Bakugou, out of all people in the world, couldn’t lie without becoming a flustered mess. The truth was often even harder for him to admit, so the fact that it was coming out of his mouth so smoothly made your heart and stomach flutter. It was your turn, to tell him that you wanted all the same, but the words were lost to you. How could he admit his feelings so easily, while you were completely useless? Had you really built your wall that strong, that not even the person you loved with all your heart could get through?

“Katsuki…” You finally got through with a hiccup, only able to manage a quick glance up at him. “Did you ever love me?”

“Are you shitting me? Do you think I’d tell you all this if I didn’t? And what happened to ‘Kacchan’? Hm?” The snarky smirk that crossed his lips brought a more intense fire to your cheeks, giving a playful click of your tongue as he wiped your tears away with rough thumbs.

“I only call you Kacchan when I’m pretending to be mad at you.” After setting your drink down on the nearby desk, you placed your hands on his chest, tenderly adjusting the collar of his nice dress shirt. “After all this time you still refuse to wear ties. Even to your own company parties.”

“I hate them. I need to breathe.”

“I think you just like looking like the bad boy.” You couldn’t resist stepping in closer as his hands fell to grip your hips, the heat of his body so irresistible. “You and your tough guy facade.”

“Whatever. We both know you fucking love it.”

“I do, Katsuki.” You caressed his cheeks softly, entire body tingling with the feeling of his hands sliding up your sides. “I never hated you. Never. Maybe that makes me stupid, too… But I always knew it…”

“Knew what?” His lips were dangerously close to yours now, brushing softly as he spoke. Even his gaze was nearly crippling, already feeling your legs growing weak. He was so dangerous, so absolutely irresistible to you that there wasn’t anything you could do to control your wanting for him. Not anymore.

“That you would come back to me.”

With that, any restraint the two of you may have had was broken, lips immediately crashing into each other with a fierce and familiar passion. How long it had been didn’t matter in that moment. Bakugou knew exactly how to kiss you, how to hold your body against his and make your legs weak. The hot taste of whisky on his tongue made your entire body feel warm, starting from your core and spreading through each nerve. It was like every inch of you was on fire, the heat pooling between your legs as you couldn’t resist your arousal. Everything about him was exactly like you remembered, only… there was more.

It was obvious to you that he had grown in experience and practice, even just from this short time together. Although you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy towards the other women whom he had relations with, you knew that from this moment on, if you accepted him, it would be only you. There would never be another woman or man between you, nor any career or goals. It would be you and him together, to be everything you ever wanted. And needed.

“A-ah, Katsu--” You couldn’t resist a soft moan as his hands eagerly gripped onto your ass, even though it was immediately smothered by the kiss. His palms were so hot that you could already feel them through the fabric of your dress, only further reminding you of the things you loved about him. You didn’t know if it was because of his quirk or if it was just how his body was, but any time he got all hot and bothered, his palms would become unbelievably warm. It was never to the point that you couldn’t bare it, but it was just enough to melt you and make you crave to feel it against your bare skin. Tugging him backwards with a simple step and yank to the front of his shirt, you stumbled back until your legs hit his desk, the rattling of the ice in your drink barely registering in your feverish mind.

The loud crashing and clanking of other miscellaneous belongings falling to the floor was just as ignored by the both of you, pushed aside with a single sweep of Bakugou’s arm. In nearly the same instant, you were turned, upper body forced down onto the desk from a strong pressure between your shoulder blades. One hand firmly on your back to keep you in place, Bakugou let the other travel down your side and to your hips.

“Five years have done you a lot of favors, [Name]. Your body is fucking irresistible.”

Unable to really move, you could only support yourself on trembling legs, entire being racked with excitement and anticipation at what he would do to you next. You could feel his cock pressing into your ass from beneath his pants, and you knew damn well he was doing that on purpose. It was just another way to tease you at what you had been missing all this time and what you desperately wanted. “Are you saying it hasn’t always been?”

“Don’t be a smart ass with me. I’ve craved every inch of you…” With that, you felt the cool air of the office on your backside as your dress was pushed up to your lower back. Both strong hands moved to grope you and spread you open, an amused chuckle following. “Fuck, I can see how wet you are already. And no underwear? Were you expecting something?”

The feeling of his thumb stroking against your sex made you shudder, nibbling at your bottom lip. Even through your hose, the pleasure of his touch was irresistible, softly gasping with each stroke to your clit. “Any time I see you, I always hope that you’ll want me again. It was an impulse… not to wear underwear. I thought that… maybe ton-- a-ah!” You were cut off by a moan, surprised by the sudden hot and wet pressure against your clit. Unable to see him well, you didn’t notice that he had knelt down until he made his presence known, running his tongue along your sex with the hose still in place.

The sensation was odd at first to the both of you, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt. Even if he wasn’t on your clit directly, the cloth still grew taught against it with his movements, teasing you with just a hint of pressure. You wanted more so badly, but you knew begging wasn’t going to get you anywhere just yet. He was going to do whatever he wanted with you, and there wasn’t any point in trying to stop him, not with how badly you wanted this.

Suddenly, there was a new sensation and sound. With a firm tug and the ripping of cloth, you felt your hose loosen from your body, splitting right down the middle seam to fully expose you. Bakugou had done it with his teeth, you knew his antics well, but that didn’t mean you were any less annoyed that he just ripped your favorite hose. “Hey, Katsuki! These are my-- ooh, fuck!” You dug your nails into the wood of his desk as he began to eat your out mercilessly, gripping onto your hips to keep you still.

Turning your face more into the desk, you moaned and panted against the wood, the pleasure tingling through your body like hot sparks. Within minutes, you were brought to a leg shaking orgasm, your knees buckling. The only reason you stayed up on the desk was your upper body and Bakugou’s hands on your hips.

“Fucking hell… I’ve missed seeing you cum like that. You always cum so hard for me.” Slipping his fingers beneath the hole he had made in your hose, he ripped them just a bit more, giving him full and easier access to your wet and twitching pussy. He could have just stared at the heavenly sight for hours, watching your juices drip down your thighs and onto the floor. Never had a woman get so wet for him the way that you did, always so hot and ready to be fucked from something as simple as a kiss. While he used one hand to stroke your folds and tease your swollen clit, his other moved down to his pants, loosening his belt. “Such a good little bitch. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Y-you, Katsuki.” Body still recovering, you couldn’t resist the slight jerking of your body with his teasing of your clit.

Once his pants were unbuttoned and unzipped, Bakugou began to stroke himself to the sight of you, spreading your pussy open with his fingers. “Have you ever had someone fuck you as good as I do?”

“No, only you can make me feel so good. No other man can ever c-come close.”

“No other man will ever come close.” Standing, Bakugou pressed his tip against your waiting hole, teasingly pressing into you until you were squirming beneath him. “Now tell me what you want.”

“I-I want your cock!”

“Beg.”

“P-please, Katsuki! Please, fill me up and fuck me!”

Leaning forward, Bakugou allowed himself to slip in just slightly. He pressed his lips against your flushed cheek, smirking against your skin. He loved seeing you like this, already completely smitten and hopelessly aroused. You’d do or say anything he wanted, and he knew that being treated like this was what turned you on more than anything else. “Harder.”

His low voice in your ear made your head swim, becoming increasingly frustrated with the teasing. “I’m begging you! Please hurry up and fuck me, Katsu! My pussy is yours, please do whatever you want to me, until I’m ruined with your cum dripping down my legs! Katsu, please!” That sweet nickname flowing from your lips again after five years instantly flushed Bakugou’s chest full of a raging and familiar fire, both of his hands moving to grip tightly onto your hips.

“That’s it, babygirl.” Slowly, his cock began to fill you up, forcing a gasp from your lips as you arched your hips up into him. The soft grunt he let slip near your ear instantly almost had you cumming again, looking up at him from the corner of your eye. Vision blurry with pleasured tears, you could barely make out the furrow of his brow, though the passion in his glare was perfectly clear. You were about to be absolutely ravaged, and you couldn’t wait a second longer. But you did, soaking in the feeling of each inch vanishing within you, filling you to the brim. “You want it so bad, then take it.”

You were already trembling by the time he hissed the demand into your ear, knowing that if you weren’t lying down on the desk, your legs would have given out by now and you’d be sprawled useless on the floor. Already you could feel how full you were, his cock pulsing against your constricting walls and just itching to move. Unable to resist the urge himself, Bakugou sat up from you, hands gripping your hips tightly as he began to slowly and roughly thrust his hips. The first few thrusts of his cock inside you felt foreign, like you had almost forgotten what it was like to be fucked by him. But, very quickly, he found his rhythm, bringing back all those things you were familiar with.

The hot slapping of skin. Burning palms. Fingers with a grip so tight you knew they would bruise. Sticky liquid coating your body, from sweat to your own juices as it rolled down your legs with each aggressive thrust. Bakugou’s grunts of pleasure, mixed in with your own uncontrollable moans. A deep presence within your womb, enough to make your stomach feel full every time he sunk his cock into you. The teasing words and name calling, forcing his dominance upon you in a way that made you completely swoon.

In no time at all, you were cumming again, arching your hips up into his as you screamed and begged for the release you had so desperately missed. And then, in typical Bakugou fashion, he removed his cock from you, right on the edge of your orgasm. It faded away in a rush of tingles, and with some ounce of strength, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to glare at him over your shoulder.

“Seriously, Katsuki? You’re still into that edging shit?!”

“Into it?” Bakugou smirked, grabbing you by both arms and forcing you back up onto your feet. His cock settled between your legs, pressing into your sex as he held your body back against his. With soft, slow thrusts, you watched as his tip vanished and reappeared again, stroking against your clit. Releasing one of your arms, the other came up to grip your neck, resting his lips at your ear. “I’ve mastered it, babygirl. And don’t try to pretend that you don’t love it.”

Putting some pressure on your neck, Bakugou kissed and nibbled at the exposed skin of your shoulder. “I’ve missed seeing your expressions when you cum so hard after being edged over and over. The way your eyes roll back in your head… That crazed and satisfied smile on your lips. Your body trembling and jerking. Fuck, you’re just so damn sexy.” He used his free hand to pull the already low-cut neckline of your dress down, allowing your breasts to fall free. He increased the speed of his thrusting, giving a sigh of pleasure in your ear as he groped and massaged your breasts.

Although the thigh fucking was a much slower pace than what he had been taking just a moment before, you couldn’t resist how good it felt just to be played with. There was no effort on your part, except for somehow finding the strength to stay standing. His lips on your skin. His teeth in your flesh. His hands on your breasts. His cock between your legs. All of it was sending you into a whole new round of bliss and almost the feeling of being… worshiped. Yes, it was for his enjoyment too, but each movement he made and shifting of his hips was to bring you pleasure.

“K-Katsu,” you moaned out sweetly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe you still remember how to play with me. What my body wants and begs for.”

“I could never forget your body, [Name].” He paused for just a moment to allow his cock to slip back into your waiting pussy, watching your face as it contorted with pleasure. “Everything about it drives me fucking crazy. Not just your body, but you. All of you. I can’t stand the thought of being without you a second longer.” With a slight push from his thumb, you turned your head to meet his lips in a passionate kiss, which spurred his thrusts to go faster. He held your body back against him, one arm around your waist with the other across your chest, caressing your neck and playing with your breasts as he wished.

You felt so close to him, so wanted and adored for the first time in so many years. In that moment, you decided it wasn’t enough. You wanted him closer.

“Stop, wait--” With a slight push of your hand to his stomach, he stopped as instructed, even though confusion flashed across his face. Turning, you hopped up to sit on his desk, immediately pulling him closer and wrapping your legs around his waist. “I want to hold you, Katsu.”

Another passionate kiss was shared as he picked back up on where he had left off fucking you, but his movements became rougher and more excited. Having you in this more intimate position must have spurred on his excitement, and that wasn’t anything for you to complain about. But, for you, there was a twinge of sudden reconsideration that you hadn’t expected. It came with a sudden rush of pure emotion, a raging storm that you had tried to keep at bay.

Disbelief. Excitement. Remorse. Anger. Wanting. Fear. Passion. Love.

Love.

That’s what it was.

As you began to feel another orgasm building rapidly within you, you released your grip of your arms around his neck to instead caress his cheeks. “Katsu,” With the soft mention of his name, his gaze caught yours, though he never lost his rhythm or pace in the way he was fucking you. You knew you had to get it out before you lost control of yourself again, barely able to speak against the pleasure that was only growing. “Katsuki. I love you. I-I’ve loved you since the beginning. I w-want to do this together. To be together.”

Bakugou let his hand fall to your lower back, shifting your body closer to him to allow him in deeper. Leaning back a bit with his movement, you kept yourself propped up with one arm while the other was around his neck, clutching on tightly to the back of his shirt. At first, your eyes were drawn down to watch how he fucked you, until his words brought your eyes back up. Behind the haze of lust and pleasure, you could see it, the genuine adoration and love for you that he had been hiding all this time in fear. There was no more fear between you. Only hope and the prospect of true happiness.

“I love you, [Name]. And from now on, I won’t ever let your stupid ass forget it.” With one more kiss shared between you, he immediately increased his efforts, fucking you so hard and rough that the already abused desk began to creak. The sound of your drink falling and glass breaking across the pristine tile floor was ignored; all focus the two of you could muster only on each other.

You could feel it, building up within your core, and you couldn’t stop it from showing on your face. “F-Fuck, Katsu, I’m going to cum! Please! Please let me!”

“It’s okay, babygirl. Cum for me.” With his words whispered in ragged breath against your lips, you couldn’t hold back another moment. As the ball that had grown within you exploded, you collapsed back against the desk, your voice squeaking with the powerful onslaught of pleasure. With full access to your hips, now, Bakugou held onto them tightly, fucking you through your orgasm. To him, it was a beautiful sight, your sweaty and ravaged body completely broken and at his mercy. Bakugou never wanted to stop, but before he realized it, his need to cum was suffocating.

“[Name]...-”

Gaining a moment of lucidity from hearing your name, you peered up at him, smiling as you rested your arms up above your head. “Come inside me, Katsu--” With your permission, Bakugou immediately grew more aggressive and erratic, your moans edging him on. “Please cum inside me! Fill me up with your hot cum, Katsuki!”

Within moments, Bakugou did just that, tugging your hips against his tightly as he released inside you. It was so hot you could feel it, filling your womb and coating your still contracting walls. With his release, Bakugou let out a satisfied grunt, before sighing in absolute pleasure. From your view, he looked so worn out, sweaty with clothing and hair completely disheveled. You were sure that you looked exactly the same, but in Bakugou’s eyes, you were nothing but absolute perfection.

With his cock still pulsing inside you, he leaned himself forward, propping himself up on his elbows on either side of your body. Softly, he moved some hair out of your face before his lips met yours. It was different now, a tender kiss that made your stomach flutter like you were a little girl in love for the first time. You wrapped your arms around him, running your fingers through his hair and softly stroking his back as he showered your lips, cheeks and neck with sweet affections.

“This is what I’ve missed…” He spoke near your ear, low and calm. “This… gentle intimacy. You’re the only person I can experience it with- who I’d want to experience it with.”

“My Katsuki… Me, too.” Now, the tears began to return to your eyes, so overcome with bubbly happiness and pure love. “I never want to lose you again.”

“You won’t, [Name]. Never again.”

With another sweet kiss, you were both suddenly startled by a loud buzzing in Bakugou’s back pocket, which reverberated through your still connected bodies. With an annoyed huff, Bakugou removed himself from you and allowed you to sit up and adjust your dress back over your breasts as he grabbed his phone to check the message. “Ah fuck.”

“What is it?”

“My assistant… I’m almost thirty minutes late for my speech before the gift raffle. Well shit.”

Giggling softly, you looked down at the mess you had both made. Broken glasses, scattered office supplies, papers and even his name plaque littered the floor. “Well, at least we still kept all our clothes on.”

With a click of his tongue, Bakugou headed over towards a door, walking inside. “I still have to fucking change, I’m sweaty as fuck.” His voice echoed, so you grew curious, following him in to see that it was a whole bathroom with a shower, tub and everything else that came standard. You followed him around a corner to see that he also had a full walk in closet, making you gasp in shock.

“Damn, Katsu! Think you have enough space? Do you live here?!”

“Of fucking course I don’t.” Bakugou glowered at you, stripping off his shirt before stepping out of his pants. “I just have extra clothes.”

“Won’t people be suspicious if you come down in new cloths- oh. You have the same exact ones.”

“Always have to be prepared, [Name]. I just… don’t have an extra dress for you. Or hose. Sorry.” He smirked at you as you looked down at your legs, the hose you wore soaked with liquid and torn all the way down to your thighs. Huffing, you pushed them down before plopping yourself onto the toilet, relieving yourself as you took off your shoes.

“My dress is fine, it’s my hose that I’m upset about! These were my favorite ones!”

“I’ll buy you more. Are you taking a piss?!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t piss all over your desk, I’ve had to pee for like an hour.”

“And I still wouldn’t want you to leave.”

Smiling, you rolled the ruined hose into a ball and put them in the trash, cleaning yourself up with toilet paper. Once done, you put your shoes back on, flushed and went to wash your hands. While you were doing so, Bakugou emerged back from the closet, back dressed just as spiffy as he had been before. Coming to stand behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, giving your cheek a soft kiss. “I’m happy you’ve forgiven me, [Name]. That you want me back…”

“Of course I do, Katsuki. These few years just made me realize that… I can’t be happy without you.”

“Me, too.” After another kiss, he went to the other sink, grabbing a toothbrush and squeezing some toothpaste onto it.

Confused, you wiped your hand on a towel, before attempting to fix the mess your hair had become. “What are you doing?”

“Brushing my teeth. I can’t exactly go back to a party with my breath smelling like whisky and pussy, now can I?”

“Nah, you should. It’ll keep all those girls away.”

“You being on my arm will keep them away enough.”

“Touché. Going public already… Bring it on.”

“You got it, babygirl.”

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witchypumpkindoesthings · 5 years ago

Note

Hi there! I saw your Ventus and Sora works and I love them! Could you possibly do a NSFW one of Roxas x Reader? Like, Roxas gets kinda Jealous because someone is flirting with the Reader, and he wants to make it clear who she belongs to? Have a good day!

Thank you so much! Ahhh I’m sorry this took so long! I haven’t really mastered the art of smut yet and Roxas is my second favorite character so I wanted to do him justice! At least I hope I did anyway! I’m like super weak for the possessive, jealous thing so I was very excited to write this haha. Please enjoy! (If you don’t want to see my NSFW work, please block the tag “PumpkinsNSFW” thank you!)—Pumpkin♡

Reminder.

☆Roxas x fem!Reader

☆Word count: 1662

☆Warnings: Smut

☆(All characters are 18+)

☆☆☆

You knew Roxas could get jealous. He would get protective when a stranger tried chatting you up, or sometimes he'd worry about you hanging out with a male friend, but you never really knew exactly how bad it could get... until today.

You were both spending the day at the beach with friends. Hayner, Pence, Olette, Lea, Xion, Isa, etc, you all were just there to let loose and have fun. You were wearing your favorite bathing suit, which happened to be a bikini, and you got plenty of compliments on it. Hayner, being Hayner, teased and joked with you about it during your time on the beach.

"Damn! Did you wear that just for me?"

"You don't leave much to the imagination, do you Y/n?"

And other things along that line, it honestly didn't bother you much. This was Hayner, you knew he was joking and his words weren't genuine. If it really bothered you, you would talk to him about it and know he would apologize and stop... but it seems like you would have to explain these things to your boyfriend.

Roxas spent the whole day, huffing and frowning at anything and everything having to do with you, and another male, but especially Hayner. You noticed that every beach activity or game you played, Roxas specifically had it out for him, it was funny at first, but Roxas was in a seriously bad mood after the day ended, and you were tired of it. When you two were finally back home in Twilight Town, you finally decided to talk to him about it.

Roxas was sitting on the couch, messing around on his Gummi phone, frown still on his face, when you came up behind him and poked his cheek. "Frowning will give you wrinkles." You tease him, only to receive a grunt in response. You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you jump over the back of the sofa to sit next to him. "You know Hayner didn't mean those things, right? He was just being... Hayner, he’d say those types of things to Pence if we were to put him in a dress.” You explained, leaning into Roxas, who turned off his phone and leaned back into you.

"Mhm... I know. But still..." He trailed off and pulled you into him, bodies as close as humanly possible. "Not everyone is "just Hayner"." Roxas mumbles as he nuzzles your neck, making you giggle softly.

"If I didn't know any better... I'd say you were jealo- OW! Roxas!" Your sentence was cut short as Roxas sank his teeth into your shoulder. It really didn't hurt that much, it was more surprising than anything. You whined and put your hands on Roxas's shoulders as he ran his tongue over the mark he had just created.

"I'm not jealous..." He defends and before you could respond, Roxas had scooped you up and began carrying you towards your shared bedroom. You squirmed and giggled. “Hey! What are you- WOAH!” Roxas dropped you into the bed, then continued his assault on your neck. A soft, surprised moan fell from your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck and you decided to try your hand at teasing once more.

"I dunno, this seems like something a jealous person would do- Ah!" Roxas bit you, once again as a response, you had a feeling he means business. He ran his tongue up and over your pulse, tracing your jaw and stopped when his eyes met yours.

"This is your reminder," Roxas hummed before giving you a cheeky smirk and squeezing your hips. “That you belong to me.” He purred before capturing you in a heated kiss. Your hands instantly went to his hair, fingers tangling in his wild blonde locks. Hey, if this was your lesson, you didn't mind taking it.

Roxas ran his hands up your sides, slowly pulling up your top as he goes along, you broke the kiss to allow your lover to remove the cloth completely, shivering as the cool air hits your skin. Your tongue slid against Roxas’s as his hands cupped your breasts, squeezing them and causing you to moan into the kiss, heat gathering between your legs as he broke the kiss, lips feverishly making their way down your body, stopping at your right breast to take a nipple into his mouth, you let out a surprised moan as your back arched towards Roxas’s mouth. “Fuck Roxas,” his name fell from your lips, followed by a string of moans as his mouth went to work, rolling your other nipple between his fingers. After a moment, he switched to give your other breast the same treatment, his freehand drifted downwards and rubbed your inner thighs in a slow, teasing matter.

Once he finished with your breasts, he dragged his tongue down between them, and down the center of your belly, dipping his tongue into your belly button, causing your body to jerk in surprise. You heard him chuckle at that, stopping only to pull your bottoms down, tossing them elsewhere and hooking his pinkies in the waistband of your panties, pulling them away slowly to reveal your wet womanhood. You whined at both the cold hit your lower region, and at Roxas’s slow pace. “Wet already?” He teased, causing you to attempt to close your legs, blush on your face. Your lover was having none of that, he clicked his tongue and nudged your legs back open. “I don’t think so.” He hummed and pushed a finger inside of you. Your surprised squeak caused him to smile cheekily once more, you scoffed.

“Cocky son of a- Mm!” Roxas cut you off by running his tongue over your sensitive clit, turning whatever words you had left into moans and whines. He added a second finger within a few seconds, pumping them in and out as his tongue moved quickly, causing your climax to approach quickly. Your moans became increasingly more frequent and loud, letting him know you were close. “Roxas, please, oh god!” You bucked your hips, ready to climax, only to have Roxas pull away, leaving the job unfinished. You whined and sat up to look at him. “Hey!” You whined as Roxas chuckled, taking off his shirt and unbuckling his belt.

“You want it that badly? Tell me what you want me to do.” He flashed another grin, throwing his boxers in the general direction of his other clothes. Your eyes dipped down to his cock, clearly you weren’t the only one who wanted more. You huffed, remembering that this was supposed to be a lesson, a reminder.

“Roxas... please... fuck me.” You mumbled as you looked up at him bashfully. Roxas hummed and leaned in.

“What was that?” Hmph. Cheeky asshole.

“I want you to fuck me! Fuck me until I forget how to breathe! Please Roxas!” You said loudly, cheeks red. Your neighbors almost definitely heard that, but that’s a future Y/n problem. Roxas smiles and climbed back over you, pulling you in for a swift kiss.

“Well, since you said “please”.” You roll your eyes and pull him back into a heated kiss. You felt a strong hand grab your hip, pulling you closer as the other helped guide Roxas’s swollen cock to your entrance. Lips move to your neck, kissing and nipping roughly as he pushed himself inside of you. You both let out beautifully sinful moans as you adjusted to each other, and once you were both more than comfortable, Roxas began thrusting.

Your fingernails clawed at his back as loud moans dripped from your lips, Roxas’s voice mixing with your own, he moaned against your skin as he left love bites between your breasts. His name left your lips as your body bounced with each thrust, climaxes approaching once again. “Louder, Y/n,” Roxas groaned against your skin, his thrust picking up speed as they grew sloppier. You moaned, your fingernails raked down his back, he didn’t have to ask you twice.

“Roxas! Fuck, Roxas!” His name sounded so sinful falling from your parted lips. You continued to moan out his name until your orgasm took ahold of you, bucking your hips and screaming Roxas’s name, you rode it out as he whispered your own name against your skin as his orgasm followed right after yours.

You both panted as you took a second to take everything in, Roxas rolled over to lay next to you. He sucked in a sharp breath as he pulled you close for a loving kiss.

“Maybe I was a little jealous.” He admits with a chuckle. You can only scoff sleepily.

“I could’ve told you that,” you snuggle up against him as you yawn. “But you have no need to be. I love you and only you.” You assured him with a sleepy hum, Roxas responded by kissing your forehead.

“I love you too, Y/n.”

•••

The sound of angry knocks at the front door is what disturbed your peaceful slumber. You rolled over to look at the time and groaned upon seeing it. You poked Roxas awake and sat up. “Someone’s at the door, I think it’s the neighbors, deal with it.” You grumbled. Roxas opened his eyes and checked the time, groaning in annoyance as well, but rolled out of bed anyway. “Don’t forget your pants.” You remind him, standing up yourself to waddle to the bathroom.

“Mhm, be back in a sec.” He mumbles and he makes way to answer the door. You hear a bunch of angry complaints followed by Roxas’s apology moments later. You smile chuckle and flip the bathroom light on, however your smile falls as soon as you see your reflection.

Roxas had left a huge “R” made from love bites and hickeys between your breasts.

“ROXAS!” You shout as soon as you hear the door close. “This is gonna take forever to go away!” You whine, listening to Roxas laugh in response.

“Good!”

#roxas x reader #roxas/reader #roxas x reader smut #roxas/reader smut #kingdom hearts x reader #kh x reader #kingdom hearts x reader smut #kh roxas #pumpkin writes #pumpkinsNSFW

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nimblermortal · 4 years ago

Text

@icryyoumercy, with thanks for deciphering that one passage of Beowulf for me, your ‘drabble’ turned into 4,981 words

@ everyone else, please correct me if I am wrong about things like which Chinese novel I’m talking about or the theology of Arabic linguistic evolution.

The urge was growing in Nicolò’s fingers on the plane to Chicago, but it wasn’t until he was looking through Nile’s mother’s kitchen cabinets that Nicolò recognized it for the bread craving it was. He always baked when they were in a new place - bread was how you knew someone lived somewhere - but he also baked for understanding his life and others’, and between that and… well, he couldn’t say he disliked the contents of the Freeman kitchen, he adored modern convenience and salt and fat and protein and immigrant cuisine, and would gladly wax rhapsodic about Ragu and instant ramen if given half a chance and his pick of languages to do it in - but the Freeman kitchen was very clearly that of a single mother who worked nights, and Nicolò needed food that took work. So as they were walking down the front steps of Nile’s house, Nicolò turned to Yusuf and said, “I’ll take watch if you’ll -“ “Bread? On it, love,” said Yusuf. Now that they weren’t performing, they were back to their own pidgin of Ligurian, Arabic, and Latin - as if the pidgin could form a wall between them and the absence of Liber. “You found us a place with a kitchen?” Yusuf only answered that one with a wounded look, as if he would bed Nicolò down for two weeks without a kitchen. But he didn’t peel off immediately to hunt down whatever cooking store he had searched up. Most of Yusuf’s cut from jobs went to kitchen goods; most of Nicolò’s went to art supplies. Treasures they brought back to the other as if they needed to prove their affection still, abandoned at each successive safehouse. The attraction of Goussainville was - had been - the cups with chips in them, the crack down Nicolò’s favorite mixing bowl. Things they had had long enough to damage. Things Nicolò did not want to go back to now. “It’s vacation,” said Yusuf. “Rest, relax.” “We just had a year of vacation,” Nicolò complained. “I want to bake bread.” “Very well,” said Yusuf, and then he did disappear into the crowd. Nicolò tried not to watch him go; it would have been suspicious, while Yusuf was disappearing.

He came back, as he always did on such ventures, while Nicolò was rearranging the contents of the kitchen they’d rented. (The spatulas had been across the kitchen from the stove, far enough that even Nicolò could not reach them one-handed. It was an abomination, and someone would spend decades in Purgatory for this.) “I brought you a gun,” he said, which was not how he announced it when he had obtained a real gun for Nicolò. Nicolò pursed his lips faintly in question, and Yusuf laughed, trying to balance all of the bags he’d brought back on the counter. “There,” he said when he was done, fishing around in one, and brought out a yellow thing like a construction toy. “It fires lasers.” “That is the shortest shotgun I have ever seen,” Nicolò said solemnly, and took it from him. There was a screen at the back that stayed obstinately blank as Nicolò swept the room with it, trigger finger resting alongside the body of the gun since he had no intention of shooting anyone just yet. There was also a tag, but reading that would have been cheating. With a frown, he pointed it at his foot and squeezed the trigger. The screen lit up at around ninety. When he fired aimlessly into the room, it dropped by twenty. He looked up. Yusuf was watching him with interest and smothered laughter. Nicolò shot him right between the eyes. “Ninety nine,” he declared on inspection. “Do you want to lay down and I’ll get you some tea for your fever? What is the function of this object?” “It tells you whether things are done cooking without having to pierce it with needles or fumble it out and juggle it while you knock on the crust or open the oven door and have your soufflé fall.” “Hm,” said Nicolò speculatively, and left it on the counter where he would remember to try it later and decide what he thought of it, or determine its range and accuracy. Nile would probably agree to standing by the stove and keeping a pot of water just barely boiling so he could calibrate the accuracy at varying distances, but she was busy doing something with her brother that involved one of those televisor screens and a lot of leaning and screaming at each other. “What else did you bring me?” “Just your usual,” Yusuf replied, pulling things out of bags and finding cupboard space for them. After this many years, he could put them where Nicolò would look for them in any kitchen. When Nicolò brought out a pan and started pouring milk into it, Yusuf frowned. “Are you not planning to sleep tonight?” he asked. Nicolò shrugged. It was dark outside already. “I’ll keep watch,” he said, and gestured to the far end of the counter, where neither of them had let any bags come close to the little pink walkie-talkie Nile had leant them when she realized burner phones were not going to cut it for their twenty-four-hour surveillance plan. “I’ll be cold without you,” Yusuf warned him. “You’ve been cold before,” said Nicolò. He stirred the milk. Heat it slow, for sweetness. He had all the time in the world. “Go to bed. It’s not necessary for both of us to be tired tomorrow.” Yusuf hummed thoughtfully and kicked at his own heel. He was thinking about luring Nicolò into bed, what tricks he might apply to convince Nicolò to sleep instead of starting bread to rise. Nicolò hooked a foot lovingly around his ankle and swept. Yusuf unthinkingly shifted his weight and lifted the foot out of the way. “I’m not upset. Just antsy. Let me make this place home,” Nicolò said. He didn’t sweep Yusuf unless both of them were feeling safe. It had become an unspoken rule of their relationship, a declaration of honesty that, honestly, reflected what they had seen from Andromache and Quynh. When they had been hoping for something half so honest for themselves. Yusuf registered his protest by making calming mint tea for the both of them while Nicolò emptied grains into containers, and leaving the tea where Nicolò would drink it. The tea had been a recent ritual, only a couple of hundred years old, something Yusuf clung to to attach him to a regional identity that had superseded what he had grown up in. Nicolò had quietly adopted it as a way of laying claim to his identity as Yusuf’s husband. He let Yusuf make it this time, and made a point of sipping it before Yusuf left the room. And then he was alone with the kitchen, to make this stopping-place his. He stretched, hands overhead and then locked behind to pull first up, then down. Then he got busy. The milk was soaking over oatmeal - it would probably be softer than he liked, since he’d been so eager to get started, to signal what he was doing. That was all right, it just gave the bread more grain anyway. The yeast didn’t really need proofing, but he set it to do so in the little oven-proof dish Yusuf had brought, because he liked proofing yeast. After this bread was done, he’d take a little malt from the still and start a yeast bath in that dish, and Liber would yell at him for interfering with the fermentation, and - no, Liber wouldn’t yell at him for anything at all, any time soon. He couldn’t say prayers for anyone else, or grant them redemption with a wave of his hand. Perhaps at one point he had been qualified to offer absolution, but there were things for which absolution was not satisfactory, for any party. God was compassionate, was merciful, and the confessional was about one’s own forgiveness, not His. So he took a deep breath and looked for the lard Yusuf had brought him. It was some local vegetable shortening that he had seen in Nile’s mother’s kitchen, that came out white as a meringue but tacky. Another joke or gift from Yusuf, who had listened to Nicolò’s steady muttered encomium on what he had found in that kitchen, the wonders of modern technology, pasta sauce that came in a jar and could be kept at room temperature indefinitely and pasta that set next to it on the shelf and pre-cooked sausages… but he was getting distracted. He poked the lard suspiciously, but it seemed to be all right, and the label promised him it was shortening. So he melted that over the stove, and at least it greased the measuring cup sufficiently that the honey didn’t stick. Water, beaten eggs, salt - salt was so incredibly available these days, it was as much a miracle as the aluminum foil that sat quietly in its rolled box. To think, high-purity aluminum used as a disposable wrapper! Nicolò remembered being awed by the stories of Napoleon permitting his valued guests to eat off aluminum dishes, while the lower benches had to satisfy themselves with golden tableware. Liber had complained for years after he heard that story, and refused to say whether it was because he’d never been offered so much as silverware. Much safer, sturdier, more familiar than any of these was the wooden spoon to mix it with. Classic things. Yusuf liked to bring him gadgets - he still needed to play with that laser gun - but Nicolò was… all right, stodgier. He liked things he could understand. He’d driven Andromache crazy by taking apart the first several guns she brought them, until she gave up and apprenticed him to a gunsmith and he learned to make gunpowder and firing mechanisms and bullets, and eventually decided he knew enough to understand how to fire one. And then had gone through the whole process again when people started making them with rifling, or repeaters. Bread was meditative, was all. It brought back memories. Nicolò had baked a lot of bread, and the smells, even with strange modern flours and ingredients, even the Saxon bread he was making, were familiar and evocative. The stuff in his bowl was a dense, oily liquid, technically homogeneous but the heavier honey wanting to precipitate out of it. He started combining bowls - milk and oats first, then the proofed yeast, and finally flours. That was where it started to get good, where it really started to feel like baking bread. There was a lot of mixing involved, a lot of gradually adding more flour, wheat and white together. That was another strange thing, the way dark flour was valued these days, when throughout his history the white had been prized and saved for lords, the value in the lightness of the crumb. That was home bread for Nicolò, the way flat breads were home for Yusuf. And yet when he came to a new place, he strayed over the border toward the Germanic peoples, the grains darker and more varied, and came up with… this. Strangely Anglo-Saxon bread. Well. It was a joy to knead. The kneading only took a few minutes - eight, or ten. Enough to feel it in the outsides of his arms and start wondering how long it would take, before the dough went stretchy and elastic and the bubbles started to form under the outer edge. That was impossible to explain, the texture of bread when it began to take in air and breath, when it became not just dough but something with skin, something alive. For all the life he had taken, he could give life to this. Yusuf had brought him a special bowl just for rising bread. It was another silly contraption, but a classic one this time; Yusuf had decided that Nicolò must always have a bowl for raising bread. Nicolò spread a bit of oil across the bowl and lowered his dough tenderly into it, the creased side up, because then he slipped his hand under the body of the dough and turned it over so that the oil formed a protective coat. And then he could put a towel over it, and let it rise, and grow. On lazy days, like this, he liked to take it with him where he went, like a baby that might wake if it sensed its parent had left. He hooked it under one arm and went to see what books Yusuf had brought him, and what he might have as a comfort read, a beach read. Yusuf usually got their comfort reads out of the classics section, because things comfortable and familiar to them were old and strange to these modern mayfly people. And unfortunately, in Chicago that meant English. He hated English, with no particular passion except that it was a lingua franca he did not know. Well, and the idioms. And the strange elision of the subjunctive. And of every other familiar signpost at which Nicolò might remember how to decline or conjugate a word. He wasn’t a natural polyglot like Yusuf or Andromache, and he objected to every new language that crossed their path, and why couldn’t things be like Arabic that at least tried to stay the same (in some regions, in some contexts*), or at least why couldn’t people have stuck with writing things down in Latin like they had when Nicolò was a boy and still young enough to catch on to languages decently? If everyone was supposed to be best at learning languages before they turned twenty, how much worse must he be after turning nine hundred and twenty? It wasn’t fair that languages kept changing. He hadn’t had to learn a new language for Liber. Liber had already spoken Latin, and had been huffy about it being the language of education, of books, right up until Yusuf drawled at him in hillbilly Latin he’d learned from Andromache, We can’t all be book learners, and that was that, Sebastien became Liber Discipuli, the educated one. The freedom frighter, and the drinker. How had Nicolò not seen how unhappy he was? But he wasn’t here to think about Liber, so he picked something older than Liber was. Dream of the Red Chamber. They’d been in China when it was written, and like the rest of the country they had played at adding chapters of their own**. Some of them had made it into the modern version, and he liked to play at guessing which bits were whose, now that he could no longer remember. It was a bit of fluff and nonsense, but it was something where he could find his friends in its pages. Yusuf and still-grieving Andromache, laughing at life and its meaning, before Liber had ever been a part of their company. Yusuf was curled up in the bed, wound tighter than he was when he had Nicolò to curl around. He only partially woke up when he felt Nicolò join him in bed, moaning protest slightly at the light and pressure before he felt the bowl against his side and curled around it, managing to look sarcastic even in his sleep. They had shared a bed like this many times before: Nicolò sitting up to read or keep watch, Yusuf curled toward his side, the bread in a bowl between them rising from their shared warmth. Yusuf curled a hand around a fistful of Nicolò’s shirt and seemed content with that; Nicolò luxuriated in clear, steady modern light, and held the book one-handed, the other absent-mindedly threading through Yusuf’s curls, and checking once a chapter to see if the bread had started to nudge the towel aside yet. When it did, he set the book aside and nudged Yusuf awake. “Gnnngghh,” said Yusuf. “I’m going to depress the bread,” Nicolò said. Yusuf made another outraged, sleepy noise, and Nicolò waited for him, one hand on the back of his neck. Yusuf liked to watch Nicolò press rising bread dough down, had liked it since he had watched Nicolò in a heated debate with a monk a few decades ago, arguing about whether the way one treated yeast was any fair reflection of the way one treated mankind. It had been a silly argument, but Nicolò liked silly arguments sometimes, small things to get fully emotionally invested in; and this monk was willing to argue it with him in Latin, in which he could express himself properly. Liber had bet Nicolò that he knew more about bread than the monk, and then had the gall to roll his eyes when they got into an argument and forced him to adjudicate it. Yusuf struggled awake and his eyes started to uncross, to focus and take in the light, and Nicolò’s book, and the bread rising between them. “You’re going to press it down?” he asked in Arabic. Nicolò nodded, and Yusuf propped himself up on an elbow. Nicolò reached over and folded the cloth back as if it covered a baby or a sacrament on an altar, but when he spread his hand over the risen dough and began to press, he watched Yusuf’s eyes. As much as Yusuf liked to watch Nicolò be gentle with the bread, Nicolò liked to watch him watch, to see moment when his eyes rounded and every bit of tension went out of his body and he became limp with love. It was only a few seconds, and then Nicolò had to get up and deal with the bread, but he pressed a kiss to Yusuf’s temple first. “You torture me,” Yusuf grumbled, or Nicolò suspected this was what he said, blurred as it was with sleepiness. “If you would stop baking at night, I could write you the poem you deserve…” “Go back to sleep,” Nicolò told him, but Yusuf was already sinking down and pulling the covers over his head. Nicolò took the bread rising bowl (still a ridiculous idea), switched out the light, and went back into the kitchen. The first thing he did was check the walkie-talkie, as if it could have left some message. Nile would not thank him for waking her if he tried to send a message to her now, but if she were in real trouble she would not have stopped buzzing him for help. Or he liked to think so, and not about gas and grenades in the night and waking up helpless in a van… The bread needed tending. He tipped it out onto its floured surface and let it rest, puttering about the kitchen and cleaning implements while he waited. Baking bread did take quite a number of dishes, and he was done at least with the mixing bowl and the rising bowl now. He found the temperature gun while he was putzing, and shot the bread dough with it, but it didn’t register as any temperature higher than the rest of the room. He shrugged, set it down again, and set about the business of separating the bread into two loaves, folding them over until they were loaf shaped, brushing them with milk as if he could brush away any remaining unpleasant thoughts that way, and sprinkling them with flakes of barley. He had told Yusuf over and over that he could bake with whatever grains were convenient, that the oats that went into the bread were fine as a topping, and still every time Yusuf came back with barley flakes, would spend an extra hour combing the city for them as if they were the only grain that would do. As if the barley scattered over the top meant anything, except that he was fond of Nicolò, and even when he was sleeping Nicolò could feel his love just looking at those loaves. He twitched the towel over them to stop the smile growing at the corner of his mouth. It had some sort of novelty slogan on it, and he could tell by the pattern that it was probably cute, but he didn’t feel like reading the English just now. Yusuf could tell him what it said in the morning, or Andromache more likely - she would tease him when she found the bread. He took the walkie-talkie with him to the bedroom this time, just in case, and climbed back into bed with Yusuf to read. Yusuf felt the depression in the bed and rolled nearer, draped an arm over him and groaned something unintelligible in any language. Nicolò patted his shoulder and told him to go back to sleep, and turned back to puzzling over where Andromache’s hand came in to the story of Jia Baoyu, and if he would ever be able to figure this out without reading it in the original. When he got up the next time, he could tell from standing next to the oven that it was cheaper than the stone Yusuf had brought him to put in it. The heat was leaking out already. He frowned at it as if he could shame it into behaving, then swiped the gun off the counter and shot it twice. Well, it certainly seemed to be hot enough. This particular baking stone was not large enough for both loaves of bread, at least not after their second rise, so he picked one up by the parchment paper underneath it and laid it into the oven along with its ovenproof bowl, and sat down at the table this time. The baking process involved a great deal more interaction, and he had no desire to be up and down, disturbing Yusuf every time he got in or out of bed. Instead he took the gun Yusuf had obtained that morning - the real gun, that fired bullets, not temperature-sensing lasers - and disassembled it, making sure everything was clean and aligned and functioning the way he expected. He usually had to make minor adjustments to the guns they obtained on the fly. Every so often Yusuf would find him an honest-to-god crossbow and he would get to tune that up in proper Genoese style. One day this would happen while Nile was here, and he would get to give her his lecture on crossbow teams and maintenance, and Yusuf would watch the two of them and laugh and flutter his eyelashes, and Liber would not be there to roll his eyes and complain about Nicolò talking endlessly about crossbows again. Half way through the baking process, he took the water out; a little later he replaced it with some of that ridiculously luxurious aluminum foil, imagine, tearing aluminum sheerly for the vanity of getting a slightly prettier loaf. The wastefulness of it boggled him. He could bring himself to making a sheet of it to cover the bread, but he couldn’t bring himself to not reuse that sheet, not just for the bread, but for everything he cooked for the rest of the week, until the aluminum was wrinkled and torn beyond use. It had happened before. It would happen again. When the last timer ended, he reached for an oven mitt first, to pick the loaf up and knock it as he had for centuries. And then he remembered the gun and swore. He had the loaf in his hands already, but he managed to fumble it into one hand and reach sideways for the gun, the heat from the oven washing over him as he held the loaf at arm’s reach and shredded it with a laser machine gun fire. It seemed to be 198 F, which meant about as much to Nicolò as if it had been in Kelvin. When he knocked on it, it sounded good. Well, he could tell Yusuf he had used the gun for its intended purpose. He slipped the loaf onto the cooling rack, and reached for the second. Andromache was in the doorway to the kitchen. If he were less accustomed to her sudden appearances, he would have yelped. “You couldn’t be bothered to help when I was struggling?” he demanded instead. “You seemed to be managing,” she said. “You’re letting the oven cool.” He kicked the oven door closed. Oven like that, it could wait a few minutes before it was ready to take on another loaf. Andromache circled around the table in the kitchen, and Nicolò tried not to retreat or bristle. Tried and failed. He knew how menacing Andromache could be, and now when she was not even trying he was having trouble forgetting. Wound up about something, or more than one thing. He had thought the bread was helping. “You’re up early,” he said. “I smelled something good,” she said. “Can I…?” She gestured to the bread knife. “No,” Nicolò growled, and wrinkled his nose as he realized she had teased him out of being afraid of her. But she would have collapsed the bread if she had tried to cut it so soon, and it was still his to protect. “Have you slept yet?” she asked, more seriously. Nicolò shrugged and shook his head. “I can bake the second loaf of bread.” “Another hour won’t kill me,” said Nicolò. “Someone had to watch the…” He circled a hand and gestured at the little pink walkie-talkie. “You could have slept with it. Even Yusuf would have woken if it crackled,” she said. “You overestimate him,” he said. “You underestimate yourself,” she answered. “Why are you awake, Nicolò?” “I keep thinking about Liber,” he admitted, and there it was again, staring him in the face: That they hadn’t even bothered to use Liber’s name, that they hadn’t even noticed the misery in his nickname. “We can call him if you like,” said Andromache. Nicolò tried not to gawp at her. “That simple? One whimper and you’ve given in?” he asked. “I don’t have a lot of time left to hold grudges,” she said, and he’d been so caught up in not fretting about Nile by not-fretting about Liber that he’d forgotten they had Andromache to worry over now, that Andromache was someone they could worry over and not about. “He needs…” Nicolò began. Andromache held a hand up. “I know what your Catholicism is telling you, you’ve told me about your deity often enough,” she said. “I’m telling you, if you want to call him, we can.” I want to, Nicolò thought. He missed Liber, missed walking past him while he and Booker argued about whatever sport they were on now, missed making him French treats and being told his baking was not worthy of a dog, missed the sense of him holding down whatever corner of a room he was in, sturdy and new as a peg in a Shaker coffee table. “Not now,” he said instead, miserable over it. “He needs time. Maybe not a hundred years, but for now he is just wallowing. He needs time to forgive himself and build his life anew. He needs to think he has a hundred years to do so.” He walked past Andromache to open the oven door, but she blocked his way with a hand. “And I?” she asked, and there was an actual, honest-to-God tremble in her voice. “If I wanted to call him?” “I would be on the phone with Copley now, to get his number,” said Nicolò, and picked up the edges of the parchment paper. “I would find us travel tickets or stow us away in the holds of ships, and I would speak every word of English necessary to bring us to him, if that is what you needed.” He settled the bread in the oven to his satisfaction, and added the little dish of water to care for it. When he closed the oven door, Andromache was standing by the counter with her weight askew. “That is what I needed to hear,” she said, her voice husky. “Oh, Andromache,” said Nicolò, and gathered him to her, and felt her hand settle against his neck after an uncommon moment’s hesitation, right where he had held Yusuf’s earlier that night. “It’s all right to be scared.” He could hear what she didn’t say: that there were so many things that could happen, that she had never had to worry about before, that she had always assumed she would die in battle and that would be that, no fuss, no worry, no long-drawn-out years wondering what would happen if she drank too much or ate too little salad or if her brothers-in-arms fussed over her like an invalid, or how she could mark her last years as significant when her first thousands had already contained so much. Things Andromache would never be able to say aloud, and that Nicolò had already worried over. “Which part of Dream of the Red Chamber did you write?” he asked. Andromache laughed against him, shaking in his arms and he could feel it in her belly, the way she didn’t do things by halves even when they were little puffs of air. “You know, I don’t remember anymore,” she said. “Wasn’t some of it lost? Maybe none of it.” “Useless,” Nicolò declared her. “I should find a task for you.” He pulled back and reached across the counter without looking, fingers curling around the little pink rectangle in the corner against the wall. “Can you watch the bread for me?” he asked, pressing it into her hands. “I should get some sleep.” “Yeah,” said Andromache, holding the toy like it was Nile’s immortal life, which in some ways it was. “No problem, Nicolò. I have six thousand years of experience.” “Just don’t burn the buns,” said Nicolò, and went to bed.

#theory and chalk #the *ld G**rd #I still am not satisfied with the ending #but I think I plugged enough gaps where I'd just pulled things over from other things I wrote and never put anywhere #anyway this is the first time I've used a recipe as an outline so that was fun #if I can get that blasted last line fixed #and possibly a reference or two I'm not certain about #I'll put it on AO3 with the recipe #in the meantime: ask about anything you're not certain of!#there was a fair bit of Journeyman Knower of Things in this one

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geeky-introvert · 5 years ago

Text

Claim . Dark Hvitserk X OC

Summary: A village is attacked and a nun falls victim in Hvitserk’s predatory gaze as he claims what is rightfully his....One-shot.

Word count: 2232

Warning: Non-con. Very triggering.

Tag List: @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @lupy22 @rekdreams247 @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising @happydaysandersen @therealcalicali @naaladareia @inforapound @captstefanbrandt @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

The nunnery was the only place Grace knew. Left as an orphan at the front doors of the church as a baby and raised by the bishop himself along with the other sisters was her whole world and that is why she chose to remain with them and give herself to god.

Grace lived in the same village she has all these years, calling it home and the place where she belonged for the rest of her life. She was known by everyone of course and people admired her kindness and soft innocent blue eyes.

It was just like any other day, but the night before she felt like there was something lingering off in the forest beside the farm fields. The father said it was probably only wolves hunting and that was why she was feeling a bit nervous so suddenly.

She slept it off though, believing the father and trusted his words. That early morning she prayed in the church before coming out to greet the early birds of the village as she always did, giving everyone she passed warm smiles and nods

“Sister Grace!” Hearing her name she turned seeing Marie, middle aged woman approached her looking a bit frazzled. “I’m sorry to bother you but have you seen my son this morning?” “Your son?” Grace asked before remembering. “Yesterday he said he was going hunting.” “Yes.” Marie nodded nervously. “But he never came back last night.”

Grace let out a gentle and calm smooth breath to loosen the tightness in her chest before coming closer and taking her hands in her own.

“I’m sure he’s alright. He might have just camped and he’ll be back today. But I’ll let some people know and see if there’s anyone that will go out and help look for him, alright?”

It was the best she could do at least for a mother worried about her son who had only just became a man recently.

“Thank you, Sister Grace. Again I’m sorry to bother you.” “You’re never a bother. Pray for his good health and return.” She says giving her hand a gentle squeeze before moving down the dirt path again through the village.

The morning continued on as she spoke to a few people and even went to visit the orphans. However the air changed as the wind picked up suddenly sending chills through her. At first she thought it was only a change in the weather, a reasonable thought, but it wasn’t.

It started with the sounds of screams heard from the further cabins as heathens appeared from out around the trees and thickets, slashing their way through the village and towards the center of the village.

Grace held her skirts in her hands as she ran towards the church, yelling for people to run and get as far away as possible. She heard them coming as soon as the screams started and ran through the village warning people what was happening.

However it wasn’t enough, the heathens swarmed them in all directions, caging them and showing no mercy as the devils plunder what was their home. Trying to stay out of sight she ran for the church to be with her sisters and yelped when she almost fell over Marie, who was lying dead on the dirt ground with her clothes torn and throat slit.

All she could do was continue running and pray for her soul.

“Sister Grace!” Looking at the church not far from her she saw sister Anne waving at me from the half closed doors to the church that were ready to be closed and locked from the inside.

She felt herself smile softly with relief and stepped forward only to stop when she saw a heathen to her right not far away, staring at her and covered in blood. Her breath hitched out of fear seeing the demon looking directly at her with a slight smile on his lips as his eyes burned through her very soul.

The sound of a heavy door closing and locking grabbed her attention then and looked at the church doors only to see them closed. Sister Anne locked her out. She was left to the demons. Looking back at him she watched as he stepped towards her, almost teasing her as he got closer.

She ran.

He was right behind far too close but that didn’t stop her from trying to escape at least. At this point she didn’t even know where she was going anymore and let her feet take her where they went.

Grace found herself running into one of the barns and her heart sank when she realized there was no way out other than the way she came in. Turning around he was there, closing the doors and shoving a pitch fork between the handles, trapping her.

Backing up more he just followed her and when she tried to move around the pillar away from him he just ended up in front of her again, and this went back and forth for a bit between them making him let out a giggle like he was enjoying himself.

It was all a game to him and that frightened her even more before feeling her feet take her back . The devil was so close to her and she started to quietly pray to herself for God to forgive her for whatever sins she may have committed for this to happen to her, or anyone in the village.

He suddenly grabbed her making her yelp as he shoved her down onto the large pile of scattered hay while he pinned her down. She struggled helplessly against him, shaking her head and thrashing trying to get out of his tight and strong grip against her without success.

Her worst fears suddenly happened as she felt the front of her not so white dress anymore covered in the blood from him and and dirt being ripped in half, exposing her breasts to this heathen while he licked his lips with a feral sound coming from him.

“Please have mercy!” Grace sobbed loudly squeezing her eyes shut in hopes this was some horrible nightmare. “Lord forgive me! God save me!”

Her cries must’ve been bothering him because there was a sudden sharp pain across her face where he had slapped her to shut her up. Her head snapped to the side and she continued to sob with tears streaming down her face as one hand pinned her wrists above her head as his other grabbed roughly at her breasts making her yelp from the rough treatment he gave her.

”Fucking beautiful.” He breathed down on her in his language that she didn’t understand. ”The gods are rewarding me with such innocence. A virgin all for me!”

She didn’t understand his words but she just assumed they weren’t good, for what he did next was he started sucking at her breasts making her arch up much to his delight.

Her veil was now moved off from her head, revealing her brunette short hair as the heathen ravaged her chest to his desire. He then suddenly bunched up her skirts as she realised he had let go of her wrists and tried in one last attempt to push him away.

“Stop this! Please don’t take my innocence's! I belong to god!” Grace tried once more but her words were deaf to his ears, or that he didn’t understand her. Either way he wasn’t stopping his assault on her or showing mercy.

His body pinned her down against the hay while he then tugged the front of his trousers down and forced himself between her legs settling himself against her. He spat in his hand and moved between them, stroking his region much to her horror as he breathed heavily above her like a beast in heat.

She felt something trying to force its way into her and knew it was his man hood.

“Lord forgive me for my sins! Lord forgive me….Lord for-AHHHH!”

The sudden burning pain shot through her body as he forced his way into her showing no intention on being gentle. His cock pushed through her virginity, tearing something and he continued to push forward with grunts of pleasure before he was flushed right up against her.

”Fuck! So tight! Yes! Such a perfect cunt!”

His hands then gripped around her waist, fingers digging into her skin before he started moving, hard and fast, grunting in pleasure with each thrust he gave while she cried out in pain and misery.

Grace tried digging her own fingers into him tunic, then arms, wrists, wherever she could as the burning pain shot through her very core while she was forcefully moved against the hay she laid upon.

“Please stop! Stop it hurts!” She continued to beg out of reaction as she sobbed loudly while he thrust his throbbing cock into her over again.

The slapping sounds of their skins hitting together filled their ears much to her horror as he rutted away into her like a dog in heat.

His sounds of pleasure, moans and grunts followed by heated pants and his wet rough thrusts was all she could hear mixing in with her sobs of pain which did die down as she whimpers, giving in as she realised god had abandoned her and let this horrible fate consume her very soul.

After what felt like an eternity his thrusts started to become almost sloppy, like something switched on and he was determined to make it happen. She didn’t understand as she whimpered more watching him, seeing his face twitch and almost drool as he then let out a loud groan and a warmth suddenly filled her.

This heathen raped her and now was filling her with his seed.

There was nothing she could do and just laid there, whimpering as his thrusts slowly down and lingered within her depths before finally pulling out from her throbbing core. Without looking at him he then tucked himself away with a satisfied soft grin, his eyes looking down at her with glee.

”The gods have given you to me. You shall be my pet now, my own little Christian.”

Too much in pain and shock she couldn’t move before he suddenly picked her up and was lifted over his shoulder before he carried her out from the barn, clothes torn and blood stained between her thighs.

“Lord forgive me...Lord forgive me….” Was all she could mutter before passing out.

When she woke up, she found herself on their ships, wrists tired and still in the same state as he made her as he raped her. Looking around she saw there were other’s from her village taken prisoner to be sold as slaves in the heathen’s homeland.

Unaware by her she was already claimed by Hvitserk, the prince who took her virginity. Her eyes met his and her breath hitched as he grinned softly directly at her before coming closer and kneeling in front of her. His hand brushed her at short loose hair making her flinch away from her touch and him to snicker softly at her reaction.

”Soon enough you’ll understand. Soon enough you’ll be begging for me to fuck you.” Looking at her chest her saw the cross she wore and took hold of it before ripping it off from her and tossing it into the water.

“Your false god can’t help you anymore. I’m your god and master now.” He then stood up leaving her alone and she let the tears stream down once more.

“God...forgive me for my sins...I’m sorry....” She wanted to hear a response as she always has but like every time she prayed there was nothing.

She was abandoned by her god, and she accepted that.

Time has passed, a year perhaps since that very day. She learned the language over this time and learned their ways, at least a few things.

Grace was staring at herself in a dirty mirror, her hair now longer than it’s ever been before. So much had happened and things have changed. Adjusting to the new life was harder then expected from her but so far she’s survived this long as the heathen she learned his name was Hvitserk and was a prince as well, as his concubine.

It wasn’t that she was mistreated, in fact he made sure she was fed and bathed everyday, dresses to his liking and braids in her hair to his liking as well, the perfect trophy he enjoyed to show off to everyone.

She was tired. He used her body to his pleasure everyday. The forbidden act she hated at first turned into a pleasure she never felt before, but she didn’t want it. That never mattered to him though as long as she spread her legs for him and satisfy his needs.

Hands suddenly wrapped around her waist and warm lips pressed against her shoulder feeling Hvitserk come up behind her suddenly. Over time he has grown softer with her, not that it changed much how she felt about him but at least he didn’t beat her like the other slaves were sometimes for even dropped a jug of mead.

“Come back to bed, pet.” He whispers to her. “I want to fuck you again.”

Swallowing a little she then let out a quiet sigh. This was her life now, whether she wanted it or not, this was her fate.

“Yes, master.”

#vikings #hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x oc #dark hvitserk #fanfiction #fandom #triggering #non-con #smut #hvitserk imagine

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morbidanthem · 5 years ago

Note

Genji falling for a disabled teamamte who has trouble seeing when people are joking?

((A/N: See, this one kind of was hard for me to write, because I don’t understand what you mean by “disability”- I do not write autism because I am not aware enough of it to make it tasteful. I just wrote it the way it felt right to me, so sorry if it is not what you wanted.))

Continuity - Overwatch

Character(s) - Genji Shimada

Parring - Reader/Genji

Genre - Romantic

Rating - G for General

Warning - No Warnings Listed

Word Count - 2,877

✏️Written 02/04/20 - 02/06/20✏️

((Long Post Warning))

Genji Shimada

Blackwatch

He tried to tune out the incessant conversation going on behind him, he felt his annoyance grow larger and larger by the passing second as he tried to focus his attention through the binoculars to peer at the gang of criminals crowding around a big black van that was parked in the dark and abandoned alleyway below him. He couldn’t help but lament for a fleeting moment of sheer weakness how he could barely register how cold the freezing concrete that was underneath his robotic abdomen… His team mates were all bundled up in warmer outerwear, since it was getting closer and closer to the winter season in this region of the world, and the be honest it made him feel a certain mix of emotions he couldn’t really think about at the moment… but then again how could he really think at all with the way his team cackled like a bunch of drunk businessman coming out of a crowded bar! “Man, you really are kinda dense, huh?!” he heard behind him as more loud laughter followed the statement from the two men he had the displeasure of working with, he could hear their rifles rustling loudly as he began to grow concerned about them blowing their cover and ruining their ambush plan. You had responded with something, but it went past him as you refused to move from your perch, with deadly aim locked onto the main target that was assigned to them by Reyes. You were trying to act professional, but he could tell you were a little downtrodden by the laughter of your teammates as your face dropped a little at the sound of their teasing. He doesn’t know why he noticed a change in your emotions, and he quite frankly is questioning why he cares, but for now so long as you don’t take your eyes off the bad guys and keep your finger on the trigger of your enchanted sniper rifle, he could honestly care less as to what the other two soldiers say.

After your team had managed to take out the group of thugs with relative ease, he was becoming enraged at the fact that his other teammates were still laughing about their idiotic earlier comments that were making earlier at your expense, and as they began to clean up the scene and cuff the remaining members of the organization that were still alive so they can be loaded up into a medical transport, it actually kind of pissed him off the way they would refuse to let their idiotic remarks go. Something can be funny, sure, but there is no need to beat a dead horse into the ground when everyone has already had a good long laugh about it ten minutes ago. You tutted as you watched them walk the leader of the gang into an armored vehicle to begin questioning him on his crimes once he has been examined by an Overwatch Certified Doctor, Reyes wanted to keep him alive specifically so they can grill him about information on the new upcoming group of organized criminals known as Talon that has been on the lips of many known criminals lately. He heard you loudly begin to question your team about statements they made to you that you didn’t understand, it all may seem obvious to others, but for some reason you couldn’t grasp basic concepts of jests and quips until a few days later. When he first took notice of you doing this kind of thing, he thought you reacted this way to keep a joke going even longer and joking along with them… but the more he was assigned to work missions with you, the more he noticed that you were actually, in fact, not actually understanding what was going on. He liked to consider himself a master of observation, and each time someone made fun of you and you asked questions about it later, your face twitched a certain way and your voice got a little deeper to signify annoyance and frustration. He doubts any normal person would notice a small change in your demeanor like that, and frankly he still questions why he is paying enough attention to you to notice things like that as well, but as he watched the larger member of the team tousle your hair and laugh louder at your protests he couldn’t help that little pang of guilt he felt for not saying anything to you or his ragtag team… but, it was none of his business, and he doesn’t want to get involved in trivial social nonsense like this when he has motivations of his own he needs to take care of while he is an asset to Blackwatch. He heard you give a frustrated grunt as you began to break down your rifle to put it inside its special transport case in preparation to return to Headquarters to speak with Reyes about the success of the mission.

You sat sadly on the cliff side of the Main Overwatch HQ in one of your secret comfort spots that was behind one of the “abandoned” buildings that is rarely ever used for anything other than an impromptu meeting spot for executives who wanted an ocean view, and as you sat and listened to the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks below, you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of frustration and agitation as you replayed what it was those two guy said about you… Why does it take so long for things to click with you?? It was one of the most frustrating things about your personality that you can think of- always being the butt of the joke, and never really knowing why, and on top of that anytime you would ask for an explanation you were ALWAYS met with teasing laughter and loud cackling! It drove you insane! You began to vent loudly to the cybernetic ninja that sat above you on a perch on top of the small temporary building, but you doubted he was actually listening to you as he did not move from his spot with his eyes on you the same way a cat has its eyes on a mouse. In a strange way however, his silence always made you feel a sense of ease, you could equate it to something akin to talking to a plant- it could offer you no advice and no help, but you knew it was alive and you knew it was listening to you in some capacity. Which… was a strange way of describing something… wasn’t it? Gah! Why did you have to be this way? You’re whole life you have always been very slow to the punch, and very dim in terms of what was acceptable to say socially, it was the one thing that always managed to make you feel inadequate despite all of the amazing things you have been able to accomplish. Shooting a target over a mile away and leaving a fatal mark and remaining hidden in a crouching position in the middle of a dense jungle for days on end? That, that was easy. Getting along with team mates who were from so many different credence and backgrounds? That.. That was harder than any kind of obstacle you have ever faced. You took the opportunity to look up at Genji and notice his stance and position haven’t even shifted a little, and as his red eyes bore holes into you, you were reminded of the fact that you could never really tell what he was thinking and he never really shared any thoughts with you voluntarily… but the fact that he hasn’t already gotten up and shuffled away from you men something, right? Oh, the irony, that you of all people would make an impression on one of the most serious and arguably scariest members of Blackwatch wouldn’t you? Well, at the very least you can say you made a friend in all of this, even if it is hard to tell what he is thinking a lot of the time, but that just made you two more similar than it did different… considering you too were an enigma to your current team.

Overwatch

He was hardly listening to what Winston was saying during this little presentation that he had called to order, he was so caught up in his own thoughts and mind that he wasn’t listening to anything anyone was saying, so it was a good thing no one was addressing him directly because he wouldn’t be able to add anything productive to the conversation. He would have to ask Zenyatta for a run down later, as the monk should have taken notice that this pupil was paying no mind to the information given to this new Overwatch organization, the omnic tended to notice everything about the cybernetic ninja no matter how hard he tried to hide his true emotions or intentions… just as he was still able to notice all the small things about you with his own keen perceptions. You haven’t changed all that much physically since the fall of their small rag tag team known as Blackwatch, if anything you have matured a little more since then, but so has he- it was simply the laws of nature for people to grow and evolve as time passing around them, and no matter how hard we try to, it could not be stopped… well, except maybe time can stop for Lena, but it probably wasn’t for very long and didn’t stop people around her from changing. He thought he heard his name being called from somewhere in the room which caused him to come out of his little daydream, so he just nodded his head as he stood in the same position across the room with his arms crossed over his chest, he probably just agreed to something silly he know but he couldn’t help but have his eyes from being fixated on you. He is racking his brain high and low and he just doesn’t remember you being this distinct, this unique… this bright. He was transfixed at the way you chuckled at whatever it was that Angela whispered into your ear as the two of you were leaning against the opposite wall that he was. He felt his heart warm at the sight of your smile as your hair fell slightly into your face, which caused an obscured of his view of you a little; he remembers during your time in Blackwatch, you were always so stressed and so sad and miserable- to see you now, so warm and so welcoming, he was excited to speak to you once you both had the chance to be alone.

He found you leaning against a tree in a shady spot near where you used to hang out, the shade of the tree was a way to try and protect yourself from the harshness of the summer sun that was mercilessly beating down on this small island peninsula, he could help but smile under his mask as he watched you just lounging around and watching the waves crash against the cliffs just like you used to whenever you wanted to have time away from everyone to think. These past few days have gone by so quickly, you and he barely had any time to yourselves, let alone time for each other- did you even want to see him? He thought about how selfish it was to just assume you would even want to see him again, it is true that he never took actions that were against you, but he never really took the time to defend you either. You were one of the closest people he had at that time in his life, even if he never showed it, and it was even a stretch to say you were friends since he was so stuck in his own head that he was not able to see all the good the he had around him. He had allowed himself to be miserable in those dark times, all because he wasn’t able to process what emotions were running through his mind, he allowed himself to be angry and he wanted to hold onto what happened to him. You were surprised to feel someone behind you, and as you turned to see Genji standing in the sun behind you, you couldn’t help but smile wide and wave in his direction to invite him over to chat with you under the shade of the tree. A lot has happened since the fall of Overwatch, and you were excited to hear what he went through and learned during his time in Nepal, and you couldn’t wait to tell him all the new training and missions you went on underground for your countries government in order to benefit the people of your nation. He remained silent as you spoke, just the way you and he used to, as you waved your hands around as you unconsciously put so much character into what you were telling him that it made him chuckle, and as you explained everything that you were up to while you two were apart he couldn’t hold back his fond amusement for you that began to surface heavily from being suppressed for all of these years. You began to insist that he tell you everything about what he was doing during his time away as you gave him a sweet and genuinely look from your bright and shining eyes, you kept asking and what it was like living in a temple with omnic monks that were huge advocates for the rights of their people. He was surprised at your curiosity that shone through your bright eyes as he explained things he thought would be so mundane and boring but you thought it was the most interesting thing in the world, he basked in your attention as you nodded your head anytime he told you something interesting. Is this what he was missing when you two used to be here? He regrets not being able to enjoy it before, just like he was never able to enjoy how serene and beautiful this place actually was.

A comfortable silence set in and after everything was said and done, you sat yourself across from the ninja in that ever fading shade as the sun began to dip a little below the water’s edge, and it was in that moment that you couldn’t stop the words that just fell out of your mouth “I’m glad that you’re back and feeling better, you always seemed so sad, it must have been nice to find peace.” That threw him for a hard loop for a solid minute- shouldn’t he be the one saying that? “Heh, you’re not a mind reader, are you?” he joked, but you didn’t react to it the way he suspected, as his jest was meant with the same confusion you’ve always had in this situation. He couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips as he tried his best to explain what he meant, and pointed out the irony in what you said since it was exactly what he was thinking, and as he was explaining it to you he was rewarded with a sincere smile that he had never seen before on your face that was followed by a sweet chuckle that sent his heart aflutter in a way he did not even think was possible- a first for both you and him, it seems. You could help but lament to him after your little laughing fest how hard it is to still be the receiving end of some cruelty due to your inability to catch on to certain things, but you try not to let it eat you up inside like it used to. There was a bigger picture that you had to focus on right now, the world is broken, and if you used your talents along with everyone else’s talents here- well, then maybe you all can fix it a little and make it easier for everyone to live here. As you explained this to Genji, he was taken aback by how much you actually have matured and changed- it seems like he wasn’t the only one who was metamorphosed during your time away from each other. It was silent again, but this time there was no need to fill it, and as the sun was setting over the water’s edge even more, Genji couldn’t help himself as the moment just felt right to try and see how far he can push his luck with you. Using his surprisingly warm metal hands, he caressed your cheek in his hands as you looked up at him with this look of confusion and curiosity- he wondered if he would ever get those looks of uncertainty you gave him to turn into looks of comfort, comfort he hopes he can instill in you so that you may trust him they same way he now trusts you. If the world was able to stay like this, with your eyes shining brighter than the sea, then he would go against the laws of nature and stop time right here and now.

Published 02/06/20❤💀❤

#Overwatch #Genji Shimada #Head Canon #Romantic #Reader/Genji #Reader/Overwatch #Long Post

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baldwin-montclair · 5 years ago

Text

Baldwin’s Nightingale - Part 3

Characters: Baldwin Montclair/OC

Timeframe: Before the S1 Finale, TV Show canon only (haven’t read the books yet)

Summary: Despite her Mentor’s misgivings about the date, Alisha goes ahead with the meeting.

Tag requests: @christi14 @poemfreak306 @pookie-cleary

PART 1

PART 2

Michael hadn’t spoken a word to her the entire forty minute drive home. The tube would have been faster, it’s how she got there.

“A vampire? How could you be so monumentally dim?” He surprised her with the abrupt and insulting question from the lounge as she emptied a vase of fake flowers to replace them with Baldwin’s gorgeous bouquet.

“For fuck sake Michael,” Alisha rolled her eyes and stomped into the living room, “it’s drinks!”

“Not just any vampire,” he continued, oblivious to her answer, “no, you choose the head of one of the most powerful vampire dynasties whilst they’re engaged in a power struggle with the others.”

“That has nothing to do with me. Whatever’s going on, we stay out of it, that’s what you’ve always said. It’s drinks, that’s it.”

“You think that’s all he wants, you’re really that naive?” He seethes.

“Are you really that naive as to think that’s all I want.”

“Jesus!” He winced in discomfort over her frank statement.

“Look-” she sighed but stopped when he sank his tall frame into the armchair.

“I’m scared, okay,” he admitted, “I’m sorry for being such an asshole about this but I am genuinely terrified that you’re going to get hurt.”

“You really think Baldwin’s likely to hurt me?”

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘Baldwin’, is that what just happened?”

“It’s his name.”

“This century it is!”

“Is he dangerous, yes or no?” She tried to bring the conversation back to topic.

“He’s one of the most lethal creatures of the past two thousand years.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I know it’s not but I’m concerned that if I give my answer you might mistake his unlikeliness to harm you with the conclusion that there is no danger.”

“How unlikely?”

“In all honesty and as far as I can tell, he has not harmed anyone or even typically kept Nightingales. His enemies, however, are not likely to treat you with equal consideration.”

“Nightingales?” She asked and he just shook his head.

“Never mind, it’s stupid.” He waved his hand, trying to dismiss the importance of what he said.

“No, what is it?” Michael sighed, knowing he wasn’t getting out of it.

“It’s a caged bird reference, like a ‘kept’ daemon of a witch or vampire.”

“I thought we generally weren’t supposed to mix?”

“We’re not but as usual, it doesn’t tend to apply to those in charge so if the head of the congregation decides to take a daemon as a pet no-one’s going to stop him.”

“That’s not what he’s doing.”

“Impressive that you’ve managed to glean the intentions of a politician with two millennia’s practice in hiding said intentions and all within the space of a ten minute chat. You don’t know him.”

“By that point, neither do you!”

“True, but he’s not trying to get into my pants.”

“Mike.”

“Just...be careful, okay?”

——-

The bar was a surprising choice, a cosy prohibition era speakeasy type of establishment as far as she could tell as the car pulled up in front of the building and the driver got out, holding the door open for her.

If she hadn’t received the call from Baldwin, apologising for being late, and asking that she allow his driver, the petite blonde vampire Christina, to escort her to the venue she would have likely refused.

He was persuasive, or maybe she just let her attraction rule over her common sense.

As though on cue, a valet exited the bar and approached them.

“Thanks, I can make it from here.” Alisha told Christina as the other handed the keys to the valet.

“I’m sure you can but I have my instructions Ms Black, please.” Christina held the door to the bar open for Alisha. Deciding it unfair to argue, given the fact that it wasn’t Christina’s fault she was there, Alisha relented, entering the bar.

Photos adorned the walls of the long forgotten patrons of the bar, many of a criminal persuasion she deduced from the white suits and absurd hats.

A waiter greeted them at the door, another vampire.

“Ms Black, please, let me take your coat.” He retrieved the garment and passed it onto a second waiter who spirited it away to the cloak room.

“This way.” He led both women to a table with wine already decanted and he made to pour it into her glass when she stopped him.

“No, thanks, I’m not a huge fan of wine.”

“But Miss, this is a...” he rattled of a long and important title of vintages and regions.

“It’s just wine, Percy,” Baldwin interrupted with his entrance and turned to a surprised Alisha, “what do you like?”

Somehow an ‘appletini’ didn’t seem sophisticated enough for the company.

“Spiced rum,” Alisha watched him give yet another long overcoat to the waiter, “and coke.”

The waiter opened his mouth but abruptly closed it when Baldwin gave him a withering stare.

“Right away Miss.” He rushed off into the back.

“Thank you Christina, I’ll make sure Ms Black gets home, you can go about your business.” Baldwin tells the vampire as he sits opposite Alisha, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did so.

“Enjoy your night,” Christina told them both politely, “it was nice to meet you, Ms Black.”

The stunted formality of vampires does not get any easier to get used to.

“Alisha, please.” Christina shot a questioning glance at Baldwin who studies at Alisha first before giving Christina a decisive nod.

“As you wish, Alisha.”

Christina left and Alisha was suddenly and acutely aware they were now alone, after a long week of waiting.

And she had nothing to say!

“The smoking, you stopped.” It wasn’t a question yet he seemed to be waiting for an answer.

“I was going to stop anyway, the experience with Angelo just sealed the deal.” She told him, not wanting to give him too much credit in the decision.

“Regardless of the reason,” he retorted, clearly not believing her, “it was the right choice.”

The waiter returned with her drink and poured Baldwin’s wine for him as he studied her in silence.

“What?” She asked when the waiter left, feeling self-conscious at his stare.

“You seem nervous.” He answered, placing his hand over hers on the table.

“Wow, you are bad at this.” She retorted, taking a long drink from the glass with her free hand.

“How so?” He frowned slightly at the jibe.

“Come on, there’s rules to a ‘date’, surely you know that.”

“Enlighten me!” He sighed with mock resignation.

“It’s generally not procedure to have your driver pick your date up in a flash car, usually a simple ‘I’ll be a bit late’ text will suffice.”

“I don’t text, I call.”

“That’s because, unlike everyone else, you don’t have anyone who can give you a tiny panic attack when their name shows up in caller ID.”

“That’s true, although when my brother calls it’s generally not good news.” He answered and a flicker of confusion flashed across his countenance, as though he was surprised at sharing this.

Alisha had heard of this brother, of course, the infamous Matthew Clairmont, infamous in daemon circles anyway, she could easily understand the more libertine de Clermont causing Baldwin more than one headache.

Also, she felt a slight shift in his guarded demeanour with the admission of brotherly friction.

“That aside, must be nice being the one who knocks.” She teased, knowing the reference would be lost on him. The furrow of his brow told her she was right.

“Do you always speak in code?” He asked, and, feeling a bit more confident, she moved her hand under his to grasp his instead.

“How’d you get this?” She asked, running a finger over a long healed cut.

“Hundreds of battles and you expect me to remember every wound?” His voice had an edge of interest tempered by a thread of sternness. If he was determined to maintain control, she was willing to see how far she could push that limit.

“If I were to guess, I’d say the sack of Alexandria. Did you really have to burn the library?”

“I wasn’t there.”

“You’re not as old as they say?” She ribbed innocently.

“Careful.” He warned, his eyes dark and foreboding.

“Okay, not that, hmm...” she pondered and, with mock wide-eyed revelation continued, “oh, did one of the other senators knick you by accident whilst y’all were stabbing Caesar in the back.”

The tiniest hint from the quirk of his lip in amusement was undermined when he gripped her wrist, not painfully, but firm in a way that told her she was not getting free unless he allowed it.

She found the limit but she wasn’t sure if it was in referencing his long past or the insinuation that he would be so weak as to not face a opponent directly.

“I believe I told you that I tend not to repeat myself.”

“You did but I thought I made it clear that I would not be able to settle for a ‘because I said so’, you need to tell me how I offended you.”

“I do?” He chuckled, more from surprise than genuine amusement.

“If you respect me you would. Do you respect-“

“Yes!”

He answered abruptly, loosening his grip but not letting go as he instead dropped their joined hands to the table, his thumb lightly grazing over her pulse.

“Why did you ask me to come here, tonight?” She asked.

“The same reason, I assume, you agreed.”

“I have no intention of being your pet daemon, Baldwin.” She mustered with conviction.

His wounded glance gave her momentary pause.

“I would never ask that of you, or anyone else, it’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I don’t know, that’s the truth of it. I pride myself on knowing the intentions of everyone else yet I don’t seem to know my own.”

Alisha could only sit in stunned silence at the admission.

“What I can tell you,” he continued, “is what I do not want.“

“Okay.”

“I do not want you to be harmed in anyway by anyone, least of all by my enemies.”

“We have that in common.” She agreed and he did the most unexpected thing.

He laughed.

A full, honest and real laugh that seemed to lessen what had to the considerable weight of the creature world and his family’s legacy upon him.

“I will protect you.” He assured, his tone now deliberate and serious.

“I won’t be a caged Nightingale either.” She warned.

“Everyone’s caged by something.”

“Yeah but your protection would shrink the freedom I actually do have.”

“In some ways, perhaps, in others, just the opposite.”

“What are your terms?”

“A negotiation?” He taunts.

“In a sense.”

“Alright.” He agreed with what could only be an assumption of a foregone victory.

“When I call, you pick up, no voicemail, no callback. I call, you answer.”

“What about when I call you, will you answer?”

“Always.”

The abruptness of his reply told her she wasn’t getting any wiggle room with that one.

“Why is it so important I answer?”

“I have no need to check up on you, if I call, it will be important. If it’s not, I’ll-”

“Text?” She interrupted.

“As you wish.” He gave the most adorable head bow with his response.

“What else?”

“You keep Christina as your driver.”

“She’s your driver.”

“Actually she isn’t but she is someone I trust.”

“Hold up, is that why you were ‘late’, you just wanted me to meet her?”

“Yes.” He answered simply and as though she had no reason to be upset.

“Okay, well, you can forget about that!”

“Alisha-” he started.

“No, it’s too much, I won’t be chauffeured around like I’m some important person.”

“You’re important to me,” he cut her off, “and she’s not just a driver, she’s private security, she’s there to protect you when I’m not with you.”

“This’ insane.” She shook her head, pulling her hand back, trying to break the spell she was falling under.

He didn’t seem fazed or upset.

“Jesus, Baldwin, we don’t even know each other, we meet once in an alley, go on a date and you want to give me a bodyguard and a driver, and I don’t even have a car for her to drive.”

“That was your car, obviously you need a secure vehicle, I purchased it based on Christina’s recommendations.”

“The Merc? You bought me a Mercedes?”

“I did.” Again, the same matter-of-fact tone.

Lost for the words needed to begin explaining the problem with the situation, she instead opted to drain the contents of her glass.

“I want to show you something that may change your mind. Will you come with me?”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“It’s not your apartment is it, because I don’t...not on the first date. Kiss, yes, Nightingale, not so much.”

“Not my apartment.” He confirmed, giving the waiter a subtle wave.

In no time, both he and a second waiter arrived with their coats and Baldwin retrieved hers from the waiter.

“What’s your answer?” He asked, the open garment in his hands an obvious invitation.

“What the hell.” Alisha shrugged, stood and allowed him to help her into her coat the same way he helped her into his in the alley.

“I should probably return yours, its-“

“I have enough, it’s better for your safety if you just keep it at home as a deterrent for other vampires.” He assured and held out his hand for her to take, which she did, without even thinking.

“The car, Percy.”

“Retrieving it for you now Mr Montclair, lovely to meet you Ms Black.”

“Thanks, Percy.” She answered as Baldwin led her out of the bar and onto the street just as the Jaguar approached, still from several blocks away.

“Why do I have the feeling this is your car?” Alisha gently tapped his tie with her finger.

Baldwin’s eyes narrowed in mock irritation and gathered her lapels in his hands to draw them together.

“You’re cold.” He explained, not a question but neither was it true.

“Your Spidey Sense must be off because I’m not.” She asserted, having to look up at him as he was still very close.

The faint aroma of incense circled around them, confirming for her that was just his unique scent. She’d be embarrassed if he knew that during the last week she would periodically stop at the coat rack when caught by the scent and imagine all sorts of interesting scenario’s.

“You’re shivering, I assumed.” He explained and she realised he knew full well the reason.

It would be a lie to say that she had no trepidation about accompanying a vampire to a secondary location.

“You have the control here, if you do not wish to go, we won’t go, if you do not wish me to kiss you then I won’t.”

The second part of his statement got her attention and she realised that not only did she want him to, she had wanted him to do so since he sat opposite her in the bar.

Still, she’d be damned if she would give him the satisfaction of being in control.

Leaning up, she pressed her lips gently against his and he responded by framing her face in his strong hands and, gently, deepened the kiss. Her hands settled on his forearms, not as an attempt to pull away but as an anchor.

When the car finally pulled up, it was Baldwin who reluctantly broke off the kiss.

He looked down at her and, very lightly, brushed his thumb over her bottom lip as though admiring his handiwork.

“Do you want to go with me?”

She was grateful for his careful choice of words as she really was not sure she could handle the question being asked the other way.

“Yes, I do, I want to co-“ she stopped, her cheeks flushing slightly at her own mistake, “go, go with you. I want to go with you.” She corrected and he made a valiant, but failed effort not to look amused as he opened the passenger door for her.

As she watched him close her door and walk around to the driver’s side only one thought screamed in her mind.

Fuck

_______

PART 4

52 notes · View notes

hjbender · 6 years ago

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Imagine a story line where Loki was married to Thor's older brother. Thor swallows his feelings for his brother's husband, Loki. That is until his brother is off at war and he discovers Loki sobbing in a corner about how lonely he is since no one will talk to a first giant. So Thor decides to befriend the forehead bride and may or may not have his feelings rekindle for Loki the same time Loki realizes he had feelings for Thor.

Within an hour of reading this stellar ask, this idea turned into a full-blown 150k slow burn novel written by Jane Austen, if Jane Austen also wrote Norse myths. (In other words, EXCELLENT.) It played out in my head like an Asgardian version of Pride and Prejudice. Let me try to summarize it in 3900 words:

Tagged: arranged marriage, drama, sexual content, marriage problems (no adultery), angst, miscarriage, character death (not Thor or Loki), accidental love, marriage proposals, happy-ish ending (maybe?), just read it

Baldur is the eldest son of Odin, heir to the throne of Asgard. He is handsome and well-mannered and will someday inherit tremendous power and status, and that makes him the most desirable man in the Nine Realms.

His brother Thor, on the other hand, is a bit rough in terms of both appearance and manners. He prefers to spend his time alone or with his small group of close friends, traveling the realms, fighting brigands, settling disputes, learning new skills from dwarves and elves and humans, appreciating nature, lending his might to the defenseless when they need it. He is a comfortable loner, he detests politics and formalities, and he hates being cooped up in the palace. He dresses more like a commoner than royalty. He is tall and well-built, unbelievably strong, and more than a little intimidating.

His father is always urging him to be more like his older brother. “Show some interest in reality, boy! You can’t roam the wilderness for the rest of your life! Get married and settle down. Find your place in the court, raise a family. Be a proper prince, for Valhalla’s sakes!”

But Thor adamantly states that he is content in his bachelorhood and intends to stay that way. He is a warrior and a wanderer, like Odin himself once was. Not a soft-hearted fool with romantic dreams in his head and a desire to be domesticated. He is too wild, too in love with his freedom. He will never marry.

Then, in the interest of politics (and adding some new blood to the royal family), Baldur becomes betrothed to the youngest of King Laufey’s children, a lovely little jötunn named Loki. Loki’s people are Frost Giants of the realm of Jötunheim, and normally a marriage between their two kingdoms would never happen due to the size difference between jötnar and Æsir. However, the last baby Laufey bore happened to be quite small, making him a perfect candidate for marriage with one of the non-giant races. Thus Loki was groomed from birth to be a royal spouse. Given the biological flexibility of the jötnar, he could provide his future husband or wife with fine, mixed-blood children.

It is a perfect arrangement. Odin has been wanting to clinch ties with Jötunheim for centuries (it has nothing to do with gaining exclusive trading rights to Jötunheim’s coveted natural resources, oh, goodness, no, certainly not), and now he can finally do it. Baldur is pleased at the prospect of achieving this goal for his father and readily agrees to the match.

In just a few short years, Loki is married to Baldur in one of the most extravagant and ostentatious weddings in Asgard’s history. Women (and men) all over the kingdom mourn that their dream prince is now off the market, and their scorn for Loki is bitter and fierce. (A simmering, low-level dislike of Frost Giants crops up overnight in Asgard, and it’s something Loki must deal with for years to come.)

Loki tries to ignore all the negativity and fear in his heart and enjoy his wedding day. He pretends to be happy at the reception feast, but he struggles to truly smile. Prince Baldur is nice, but he is a far cry from the spouse Loki imagined having one day. Their wedding night is even more disappointing. Baldur is overeager and giggly from too much wine, and he spills himself prematurely, less than a minute after deflowering his virginal bride. He then passes out beside him and starts snoring.

Annoyed (but partly relieved to be spared a long night of awkward first-time sex), Loki wraps himself in a robe, pours himself a drink, and slinks away to take in the moonlight in the east gardens. He walks barefoot in the soft grass between the rose bushes, sipping his wine, sighing at the moon, and trying not to feel sorry for himself.

This is his lot, his destiny. And really, it isn’t so bad. Baldur is a good man. He doesn’t have any disgusting habits, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t swear. He keeps himself clean and measures his words carefully. He doesn’t lose his temper easily. In fact, he seems incapable of being angered. He is polite and educated and diplomatic, a natural king. He’s a little self-absorbed and prideful sometimes, and he has an irritating laugh, but if those are the worst of his vices, then Loki counts himself fortunate.

At least he was not married off to one of Surtur’s vicious sons. Or a haughty Elf. Or a bigoted Vanir who believes the jötnar are descended from ogres. At least he was not given to a lowly drunkard of common birth and poor character. Loki would not be forced to toil for a living, laboring to earn his daily bread, spending the majority of his life pregnant and impoverished. He would not be beaten or berated. He would not starve or suffer. No, he is married to a very nice, handsome, mild-mannered, financially secure Æsir prince, and even though they don’t share a passionate, romantic attraction to one another, it’s not bad for an arranged marriage. Loki will teach Baldur how to love and please a jötunn. He will be a good wife. He will bear Baldur’s children—maybe; hopefully; if that strange organ and thin, meager seed is capable of giving him a baby—and someday he will be a queen. It’s an impressive destiny, especially for a defective runt. A fairy tale ending. Loki is very grateful to his mother for realizing his potential.

As he walks in the gardens, he spots Thor, his new brother-in-law, whom Loki had been introduced to at the wedding and never really got a chance to speak to during the feast. He is sitting under a tree and smoking a pipe, contemplating the moon.

Ugh, Loki thinks disdainfully. A smoker. And he has a beard, too, which means he must stink of pipeweed. His hair is long and unkempt and he’s dressed like a poor farmer, sleeveless tunic showing off his bare arms—great Ymir, just look at those enormous muscles, it’s almost grotesque—and worn leather trousers that look like they haven’t been washed in a year.

So this is the other Odinson. Loki thanks his lucky stars that he got the more civilized brother. He couldn’t imagine being married to this brute. He looks to be mean and simple, one of those rough, rude alpha males who speaks in one-word grunts and chews with his mouth open. No, thank you.

Loki begins to tiptoe back into the shadows, but Thor’s strong, low voice stops him: “Asgard is a poor trade for the majesty of Jötunheim’s mountains. I hope you will not regret your decision.”

Loki is at first surprised to hear such eloquent words from such a coarse-looking man, and he is flattered by the compliment to his homeland. Then he bristles defensively.

It’s true, he hadn’t wanted to leave Jötunheim—with its cool, green valleys and soaring glaciers and crystal-clear lakes—to come to this gold-plated city of few trees and even fewer friendly faces. But there was no life for him in Jötunheim. He had known that since he was a child. He was destined to become a part of his spouse’s realm, and once he left the place of his birth, there would be no returning. Such is the way with his people.

Loki stiffens his lips and answers curtly, “Jötunheim is a crude, underdeveloped region. Nothing but rocks and ice. I am glad to call Asgard my home now.”

Thor chuckles. “You’re a fine liar, Laufeykin. That is good. You’ll need that talent if you hope to survive here.” He stands up and approaches Loki, who takes a fearful step back.

Thor is much taller and broader up-close. Loki realizes how vulnerable and underdressed he is, nude beneath his robe, with his husband’s seed still sticky between his legs. Perhaps brothers shared wives in Asgard, like they did in other kingdoms. Dear gods. Thor could easily take whatever he wanted from Loki, right here in this garden.

But Thor only gazes at him tenderly—such blue eyes he has—and Loki swears he sees pity flash across his rugged features.

“You’re too good for him,” he utters. “Such rarity and beauty…” He raises his hand as if to touch Loki’s cheek, but his fingers curl at the last moment and retreat. “I wish you many years of happiness… if you can find them here.”

Then he turns and disappears into the shadows, leaving Loki standing in the garden with his heart pounding and the sweet perfume of roses all around him.

Two years pass. Loki remains an uncomfortable stranger in Asgard, never really fitting in or feeling accepted by anyone but the immediate royal family—and even then, it is only because they must.

Old age begins to catch up with Odin. He spends more and more time in his regenerative sleep cycles and there is murmuring of his abdicating the throne to Baldur within the next year.

Loki begins to feel the distinct pressure to produce a child. Reigning kings prefer to relinquish their crowns when they have one or two grandchildren already on the ground, for it is the sign of a stable lineage, securing the line of succession. If a future queen cannot provide her husband with children, what good is she to him? This is what Loki has been told his entire life: marry well. Make babies. Achieve power, wealth, and status. Secure them, defend them. Don’t let anyone see your weakness.

But Loki is beginning to wonder if it might be impossible for an Æsir to breed a jötunn, regardless of how potent or fertile either of them may be.

Baldur is flippant toward his spouse’s worries. “Don’t worry, my little dove. It will happen in time.”

But babies aren’t made out of thin air, Loki knows. Baldur is tenacious and extremely dedicated to his duties to the royal court, and he takes on responsibilities one after the other. There is very little time left at the end of the day to devote to his marriage, and even then, he seems more interested in hosting dinner parties and building his wine collection than making love. Loki almost has to beg and plead for it.

In the hopes of getting Baldur interested in the activity, Loki implements all sorts of strategies to spice things up in the bedroom, but his attempts are usually met with laughter, eye-rolls, and patronizing little pats on his head.

“Oh, my dear Loki, we don’t need these tawdry, silly things! Our marriage is exciting enough. Here, put aside those toys and come to arms, darling. Nature has already given us everything we need.”

Loki hides his annoyance but submits to Baldur’s requests.

The man is absolutely clueless when it comes to romance.

It could be worse, Loki reminds himself, lying beneath Baldur and staring blankly up at the ceiling while Baldur makes clean, quiet, polite love to him. I could be married to a Fire Giant. An elf. A Vanir.

Thor.

Loki shivers and closes his eyes, wrapping himself around his husband.

He wonders what it’s like, being at the mercy of those hard hands, pinned under the weight of that heavy body, so musky and hairy and warm. Being taken roughly, having his hair pulled and his haunches spanked, feeling the delicious stretch of a thick cock thrusting into his cunt, hearing all the sloppy wet sounds as he is thoroughly, ruthlessly fucked—

Loki comes with a cry and bites down on Baldur’s shoulder.

“Ouch! Sweetheart, please! There’s no need for that!”

Loki retreats like a scolded child, his orgasm dying almost as soon as it began. He is embarrassed and ashamed. He shouldn’t be fantasizing about his brother-in-law. It is wrong. Terrible, actually.

It could always be worse, says a voice in the back of his mind.

Loki doesn’t know how, but he has no choice but to believe it.

They are preparing to celebrate their fourth wedding anniversary when war suddenly breaks out on Vanaheim. Loki is at the council meeting when Thor—resplendent in full armor, with his hair plaited and beard groomed, cloaked in a blood-red cape, such a powerful and formidable sight—steps forward and announces his intention to lead the armies of Asgard.

But Baldur, who is neither a warrior nor very military-minded, intervenes and says it would be folly to send his little brother into battle while the future king of Asgard sits comfortably in his palace. “Nay, Thor, remain behind and look after my affairs! This is only a skirmish; I shall be home before the end of the season.”

Thus it is decided. Baldur bids farewell to his wife and his brother, kissing them both on their cheeks, and departs for Vanaheim.

The “skirmish” drags on for weeks, becoming months. With Baldur absent, Loki’s link to (and refuge from) the Asgardian people disappears. He grows increasingly melancholic and isolated. He can be heard crying at night, and he wanders through each day looking miserable and depressed, silent and sullen, if he is even seen at all. He spends most of the day locked in his room with only the servants for visitors, avoiding awkward, unnecessary interactions with people.

Thor’s concern finally reaches the point where he can no longer stand aside and watch Loki deteriorate. This lonely, beautiful, neglected creature is suffering. Baldur had instructed Thor to tend to his affairs while he was gone, and Thor is—politically. But he gladly resolves to set aside his work duties and make Loki his top priority.

Thor knocks on Loki’s bedroom door one evening and Loki answers it with flushed cheeks and a stuffy nose, his jewel-red eyes bloodshot. His breath smells of strong wine. They stare at one another awkwardly for a moment, then Thor clears his throat and asks if Loki would join him for a walk in the nearby wood. He offers him his arm.

Loki sniffs. “Oh, I. I couldn’t. I’m in my dressing gown and I haven’t, I was already in bed when you—”

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” Thor thrusts out his elbow. “Come,” he says more gently. “You’ve spent enough time indoors. The fresh air will do you good.”

Loki timidly acquiesces, sliding his hand around the proffered arm, and Thor leads him away. Once outside, Thor wraps his arm around Loki’s waist and uses Mjölnir to fly them to the edge of the wood.

Loki has never flown before. At first he is terrified and clings to Thor tightly, but then he relaxes when he realizes how safe and secure he is in Thor’s arms. He takes a deep breath and smiles, the wind flowing through his hair. He hasn’t felt this good in weeks.

They land at the wood’s edge and walk along its borders, making small talk and listening to the natural world around them, so wholesome and soft compared to the hard, man-made surroundings of the city.

They speak about the war, the future, the weather. Thor asks if Loki has received any letters from Baldur; Loki haltingly confesses he hasn’t. “He is very busy, I imagine,” he says with a brave but sad smile.

Thor scowls at the ground as he walks. He knows his brother. Hardworking but single-minded, focused on politics and very little else. Loki doesn’t deserve to be brushed aside, to be placed so far down on the list of Baldur’s cares. No wife does. But Thor simply says, “Yes, I’m sure that is the case.”

Night falls and Thor returns Loki to the palace.

“Thank you,” says Loki, turning at his bedroom door with a fragile grin. “I really enjoyed tonight.”

Thor smiles, and Loki is struck by the warmth and gentleness of his face. Hardly the barbarian he had mistaken him for in the beginning.

“I am available again tomorrow evening,” says Thor. “I would be happy to spend it with you.”

Loki nods, and Thor politely kisses Loki’s knuckles and bids him goodnight.

Loki shuts his bedroom door and presses back against it, sighing as he gazes up at the ceiling.

Four years he’s spent in Asgard, yet only now does he feel like he’s made a friend.

Soon these nightly strolls become a routine, and a warm camaraderie blossoms between Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeykin. They find they are not so different; they like nature and animals and share an appreciation for the beauty of life’s simple pleasures: the smell of the earth after a spring rain; a hot drink on a cold day; the taste of a sun-warmed apple plucked right off the branch; the rumble of thunder, the song of a bird, the trickle of a clear, quiet brook. Their tongues loosen as they become more familiar with one another, and soon Loki’s shyness fades.

One evening he confides in Thor something he’s been keeping a secret:

“Two weeks after Baldur left, I began to feel ill in the mornings.” His voice is delicate, his face tense as he speaks. “The smell of breakfast would make me vomit, so I stopped coming to the dining hall and took breakfast in my room instead. I wasn’t avoiding everyone, I simply didn’t want to make a disgusting scene at the table.”

Thor stops and stares. So that was why Loki had stopped showing up for breakfast. He isn’t unsociable—he is pregnant. Baldur is going to be a father and Thor an uncle. This is very good news for their family.

Why then does Thor feel so bitter and jealous?

He tries to hide it. He clasps Loki’s hands and forces a smile onto his face. “I’m very happy for you. Have you written to Baldur of your good news?”

Loki looks downward and pinches his lips together. “No. And he will never find out, if I can help it.” He closes his eyes. “Two months later, there was… I, I miscarried. I lost the baby.”

Thor’s heart clenches in his chest. He opens his mouth but no words come.

Loki gulps and continues, “I went to bed that night perfectly fine. Well, I was a little more tired than usual and my back was hurting, but I thought it was normal. Maybe it was; I can’t say. All I know is that I woke up the next morning and there was blood… everywhere. And I hurt”—he places his hand on his flat lower belly—“here. That’s how I knew. I knew I’d lost it.”

Thor stares, too stunned to react.

Loki bows his head. “I was so happy. I thought things were finally changing. I was already picking out names—” He chokes and covers his mouth, unable to finish. He falls apart.

Thor reaches out and pulls him into an embrace. Loki almost disappears in his massive arms.

“These things happen,” says Thor roughly, his eyes filling with tears. “It is not your fault. Take heart, Loki. You and Baldur will make another child.”

“But this one took so long,” Loki sobs, clutching Thor’s cape in his fists. “We’ve been trying for four years! I don’t know if we can make another. I don’t know if I could bear the pain of losing another child. Oh, Thor, it’s just—I fear Baldur is going to die in this war and then I’ll be stranded here in Asgard, cast out from the palace a ruined widow, untouchable, unwanted, forced to—”

“That will not happen to you, Loki, I give you my word,” says Thor firmly. “Baldur is going to come home to you and make you happy again. You will have another child growing in your belly within a fortnight, and you and he will share many happy years together. Believe it, Loki, and it will be so.”

Loki stops moaning but the tears still slide down his cheeks. He buries his face against Thor’s chest.

He should believe it, but he doesn’t.

He’s not sure if he wants to.

A week later, Odin’s ravens deliver to him the terrible news: Baldur is dead.

He did not die gloriously on the battlefield, nor was he murdered by assassins. He was celebrating a recent victory with his men and unwittingly stepped in front of a drunken archer trying to impress a local Vanir woman. The arrow went straight through his neck, severing his nerves, and he fell to the ground dead.

The story will be altered, of course. Baldur will have a warrior’s funeral, go down in history as a hero. It is the least they could do.

When Odin shares the news with his family and close advisors, Loki turns and flees from the throne room, sobbing. Not because his worst fears had come true; not because he is now a lone sheep among a court of hungry wolves; but because his husband is dead. The man with whom he’d shared four years of his life—not the best years, but they had their moments. Smiles. Comfort. Familiarity.

But now Baldur is gone. Loki will never see him again, nor hear his laughter, nor smell his hair, nor feel his warmth beside him as he sleeps. He is completely alone. He has lost his unborn child and now his husband, and all he wants to do is run until he dies.

Thor chases after Loki, finally catching him in the east gardens, where they first spoke to one another on a mild evening four years ago. He takes Loki’s face in his hands and tries to soothe him, but Loki is inconsolable.

“I knew it, I knew it!” he weeps. “I knew he was going to die! Now there will be no children, no throne, no life for me here! No one will want me now! I am widowed and worthless!”

Thor holds Loki’s cheeks so he is forced to look into his eyes. “That will not be your fate, Loki. I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it.”

He sinks down on both his knees, grasping Loki’s hands tightly in his own.

“It is not uncommon in Asgard for an unwed man to take his deceased brother’s wife as his own,” he says. “This way, you shall remain in our family and be looked after. You will not be abandoned or cast out. I will be your friend, your companion, your ally, Loki. I will do my best to nurture your dreams. I will place your happiness over my own, for that is only what you deserve.

“I know that you loved my brother. Maybe you feel that you will never love again. Perhaps you won’t. I cannot say. But I tell you now, Loki, I will not force you to submit to me, nor render unto me anything you do not willingly give. I will not ask that you love me or make love to me, but I hope that someday you might find me worthy of your affections. If so, I will endeavor to remain worthy of them for the rest of my life.”

A squeak escapes Loki’s mouth and his eyes gleam wetly in the light.

Thor looks up at him, his face honest and hopeful. “I am already yours, Loki Laufeykin. Will you also be mine?”

Loki sucks in a breath. “Oh, Thor—” He bends down and folds himself around Thor’s head, hugging him, shedding tears into his blond hair. “I will. I will.”

All around them, the rose bushes bloom full and pink.

And this is only the first half of the novel’s summary. They still have to get married and fall in love and Thor has to defend Loki’s honor and Loki of course gets pregnant again and they name the child in memory of Baldur and Thor must stop the war in Vanaheim and become king of Asgard and

*collapses*

#help me jane austen you're my only ho #ask bender #thorki #ficlet #hjbwrites #hjbedit #baldur x loki #loki laufeyson #thor odinson #baldur odinson #intersex loki #mpreg #miscarriage #drama #arranged marriage au #accidental love #nafw

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purplepatton · 6 years ago

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heading straight for the castle - one

summary: logan sanders is a prince who wants nothing to do with the responsibilities the throne gives him. roman prince is a civilian who would give anything to be royalty. when an odd twist of fate leads them to meet, the pair realize something remarkable: they look exactly alike. from there they decide to switch places, wanting to see how the other lives. but a simple switch quickly becomes something more as things spiral out of control in the kingdom

trigger warnings: none for this chapter, but if you need something tagged let me know!

artist: the stellar @keuwibird (find her amazing art here if you haven’t seen it yet,,, trust me it’s amazing)

beta: the amazing @logically-sided!! i want a give her a big shoutout because she helped me so much with this fic,, without her this fic would be shoved somewhere in the back of my wip folder lol. she was such a big help with everything, from fixing my grammer and giving me suggestions when i got stuck. she’s the real mvp,,, thank you again liz!!!

notes: so this is my big bang fic! i know i’m a little late posting (sorry about that) but better late than never! i’ve decided that instead of posting the story all at once, i’m just going to post a chapter every day (or every couple of days) because with school starting and work i don’t have much time to sit down and format everything properly lol (plus this gives me more time to make sure everything is ok lol) but, yeah! hope you enjoy it, because i had so much fun writing this story :))))

If there is one thing that Logan hates more than anything in the world, it would have to be sitting in on the council meetings.

Maybe it’s the way the members drone in pompous tones about issues that rarely hold value. Maybe it’s the way the members take ages to decide the proper course of action, when in reality it should only take them a few days. Or maybe it’s just because the meetings always seemed to happen when Logan was doing something he enjoyed, therefore taking away the precious moments he had to himself, which were few and far between these days.

Whatever the reason, Logan can feel his attention slipping as two of the council members begin an argument about taxes and the possibilities of raising them. It’s been the same argument all week; although this time the two decided to add insulting each other into the mix.

Logan can feel the disgust curling up in his stomach. He clenches his fist, and tries his best not to scowl outwardly because these people are supposed to be professionals. Yet here they are arguing like children. No wonder nothing ever gets done around here; everyone is too busy focusing on their own petty differences to make any significant changes.

Pushing himself to his feet, Logan storms out of the room and leaves the council to argue among themselves. Once he’s outside the doors, he leans against the wall and tries to bring his emotions under control. He needs to think clearly, and his emotions are only clouding his thoughts. He breathes out slowly and forces himself to relax.

“Wow.” A voice next to him says, sounding amused. “You lasted forty minutes in there. That’s got to be a new record or something.”

Logan has long gotten used to Joan’s habit of popping up out of nowhere, so this new appearance does little to phase him. Instead he turns towards his aide standing beside him and raises an eyebrow. “Only forty? I could have sworn it was longer.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Joan says, falling into step alongside of Logan. They head down the hall and away from the muffled voices of the council room. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

Logan snorts, catching the sarcasm in their voice. Joan grins widely at Logan’s slip in composure, and Logan has to resist the urge to blame the council for his lapse in control. Instead, he rolls his shoulders back and asks, “Where to now?” Because even he can’t keep his schedule straight in his head; not when there is so much to do and so much is changed at least five times a day.

“It’s one in the afternoon.” Joan says in reply, not answering Logan’s question at all.

That means that whatever is on Logan’s schedule next is something he should remember, and is probably something he’s been looking forward to. He furrows his brow and tries to think.

It hits him a few moments later, as they’re walking down the hall that eventually makes its way to the back of the castle. “Oh!” He says a bit too loudly, drawing the attention of a maid who happens to be hurrying past. He flashes her his smile usually reserved for the reporters before lowering his voice and addressing Joan. “I nearly forgot. I guess I really do need a break.”

“The great Logan forgetting something? Looks like it’s the beginning of the end.” Joan says with a faux expression of pity. “Best get your affairs in order because it’s all downhill from here.”

This time Logan manages to school his expression into something more neutral, although his lip twitches and betrays his amusement.

The pair follows the hallway until they stop in front of a rather plain door. It’s nothing special, just wood with a simple design carved into it. It’s rather out of the way from the other places in the castle, in a region that’s only really used by servants. Which makes it the ideal location for Logan and Joan.

Logan knocks on the door while Joan keeps an eye out for anybody who might happen to walk by. There is a slight pause before the door is swung open by a women with long brown hair and sparkling eyes.

She’s happy to see them, if not impatient. “It’s about time!” She huffs, dragging both Logan and Joan into the room and closing the door firmly behind them. “I was beginning to think the two of you would never show up!”

It is quite possible that Valerie Torres is an actual goddess.

She had worked in the palace as the head seamstress for many years, and had been with Logan for a good number of them. She was kind, hardworking and a rather good listener. Logan had spent so much time with her - what with all the suits and fittings he needed for the meetings and parties and interviews he needed to attend - that she quickly became one of the few people Logan actually trusted.

And when Logan had approached her with a half formed plan to gain some freedom, she had immediately offered her help.

Now she shoves a bundle of clothes into Logan’s arms and instructs him to change into them. He takes them and dutifully walks to the small corner of the room that’s sectioned off by a hanging sheet to change. He quickly swaps out his lavish clothes for the more ordinary polo shirt and jeans. He finishes adjusting his tie around his neck (an accessory he insisted on despite of Valerie's protests, because he is a serious person and serious people wear neckties) and steps back into the main section of the room where Joan and Valerie are waiting.

He stretches out his arms. “Well?” He asks. “How do I look?”

“Completely ordinary.” Joan drawls from where they are lounging on a chair.

Valerie frowns, walks over and musses up his hair out of it’s carefully styled position into a more casual and relaxed style. It’s not a complete change, but Logan knows from past experience that it’s enough of a change that people will need a second look to identify him. And the time it takes them to take a second look is just the amount of time he needs to slip away.

“There you go.” Valerie says, content with her work. She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want Joan come? I’d feel a lot better if they were with you.”

Logan rolls his eyes. Every time he goes out of the castle it’s the same song and dance. He’s had this exact conversation with Valerie many times, and each time it goes the same way. He doesn’t understand why Valerie expects his answer to change.

“I just want an hour to myself.” He says, frustration creeping into his voice. “I understand your concerns, but I’ve been doing this for so long now that the odds of something going wrong are infinitesimal.”

Valerie frowns because it’s not the answer she wants to hear, but there’s really nothing she can do to stop him. “Fine. Be careful.”

“You know me.” Logan says with another one of his faked smiles. “I’m always careful.”

The afternoon rush was in full swing, but Logan doesn’t mind the way people are swarming around him and pushing to get to where they want to go. He lets the flow of traffic push him along with the crowd, not caring where he ends up.

It’s a nice sort of feeling, just wandering around and not worrying about where he has to be.

He’s visited this part of the city so many times that he could probably walk it blindfolded. As he rounds a corner in the crowd, he spies a small bookshop that’s a favorite of his. It looks rather empty, but Logan can’t remember a time when it had actually been full. It’s always half empty like this, which Logan likes because it means the store is quiet enough for him to focus on whatever he happens to be reading.

With his eyes locked onto the store’s sign Logan starts towards the store, not paying attention to where he’s actually walking.

Logan immediately regrets this decision as he proceeds to run headfirst into someone. It’s a painful collision, and Logan falls back onto the ground with a grunt. His glasses had fallen off in the process, and the world around him has melted into a blur of color and movement. He reaches around him, trying to find his glasses so he could see what was going on.

Someone is standing over him, and even though Logan can’t see a foot in front of his face, he assumes that this is the person he ran into because a steady stream of apologies is being directed at him.

“-wasn’t looking where I was going, are you okay?” A hand grabs his and hauls Logan to his feet. Logan was not ready for the sudden change of position and he wobbles slightly before regaining his balance.

Logan tries to assure the person that he’s fine, but he can’t get a word in edgewise as the person babbles on. “You don’t look hurt, that’s good. I swear I didn’t mean to run into you, I was just in a hurry and you just sort of appeared and I-”

The voice cuts off for a reason Logan isn’t exactly sure of and he takes the opportunity to say, “I’m fine, thank you. I just need my glasses. You wouldn’t happen to see them lying around, would you? I’m afraid I can’t see anything.”

His glasses are shoved into his hand rather roughly and he pushes them onto his nose, feeling the tension that had been building up in his shoulders relax as soon as he was able to see. He looks at the person in front of him and the first thing he notices is the person’s expression.

He’s looking at Logan in shock and alarm. For a moment Logan doesn’t understand what could possibly be so worrying to this boy (who on a second glance looked around Logan’s age). Then he sees what the boy sees and his jaw drops.

The boy looks exactly like him.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added/taken off): @basilstorm@artistfromthestars@storytellerofuntoldlegends@romananalogicality@verymuchanidiot @istolelittleredshoodie @dont-cry-croft @speechless-angel@thefamouszombiebouquet @wolfwalker100 @datonerougecookeh@virgilient @virgil-is-verge@impatentpending@zaisling@trixie85592 @sillysandersides @hamster-corn @adventurousplatypus @unring-this-bell @mymiddlenameisunderscore

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theveryworstthing · 7 years ago

Photo

some clothing and design stuff for rabbit wedding times.

i have been writing this post for a thousand years because it connected to other lore that i needed to write out and i got on a weird roll and my head hurts. i’m so sorry and this is only part one. this part is all about rabbit weddings today and what the ceremonies are like and this whole mess was prompted by this cute ask:

well friend, you’ll be pleased to know that rabbits and vultures get along well enough that their relationship should be fine to most rabbits. Vultures are gonna find it weird but we gotta wait for the vulture section.

now lets get on with the wedding stuff.

Rabbit Weddings Facts: regular rabbit weddings are group weddings that only happen on eight days of the year. A span of four days in the fall and a span of four days in the spring. If you miss the wedding days you gotta wait until next spring or fall. This isn’t that bad however. Many older rabbits say its lucky to miss your first chance at marriage, as your false newlywed time confuses jealous spirits that would otherwise flock to your happiness and cause trouble. Young people think this is probably a bs way of saying ‘take a little extra time to make sure your partner isn’t garbage before you think about going off your birth control’, but on the island you just don’t know what will get you got by an asshole monster so most are content to wait.

Rabbits do get married outside of of proper wedding days but usually only because they’re in a mixed marriage, they don’t know if their spouse is going to survive till then, or they’re eloping. Guards in super dangerous areas are also married in single couple off-season weddings just because they know they’ll be on duty during the actual wedding days. Those are always a little more rambunctious than regular weddings. Guards like to party.

Things like getting pregnant aren’t enough of a reason to get married right away. Rabbits don’t believe in shotgun weddings. They do however believe in shotgun divorces. If you’re gonna skip out on your kid or abandon your partner just because you aren’t married and you feel like you don’t have to be caring and responsible, the rest of the warren don’t want your triflin’ ass around anyway. Everyone’s got like eight siblings to help raise babies, they don’t need you.

Since the majority of rabbit weddings are group weddings, warrens and communities pull together to organize for the engaged couples. The rabbits on the island rarely have little to do with their own wedding arrangements, and in some areas it can even be seen as bad luck. This is supposed to be a chill day for the couples. Very few people find this level of party planning relaxing.

Rabbit weddings are reasonably low-key, but creative celebrations. There is an emphasis on the everyday joys, and while things like food and decorations will be put out with extra care, there are very few wedding specific additions to what really is a small four day festival. Each section of the island has slightly different traditions depending on threat level of outdoor celebrations, available regional food, and housing set-ups. For example, areas that have more single family/person burrows have a special separate underground hall or topside festival area set up as a kind of community center where things like weddings take place. Therefore, its not uncommon for tag team wrestling matches to occur between couples of different warrens in bouts of ‘friendly’ competition. Warrens, on the other hand, usually have their own courtyards and dining halls, so tag team wrestling only occurs on wedding days when a lot of people are getting hitched. And then its usually siblings who get into heated matches about who’s wife could beat up who’s husband.

Rabbits aren’t really against marrying not-rabbits, at least on paper. In practice some rabbits feel weird around mainlanders higher than working class unless they’re at least within spitting distance of wealthy, and a few old island born rabbits are straight up against dating hares because history bias. Vultures are weirdly acceptable. But honestly, rabbits don’t think that married couples need to be able to breed on account of all the extra babies lying around, so as long as all parties are of age, sapient, and consenting its usually okay with most people.

Poly marriages are a thing, they’re just not common.

Rabbit divorces are really quick. Sign some papers, scrub off your bonding sigil, and you’re set. Usually takes ten minutes, which is for the best just in case things turn ugly. Things are only weird if there’s business of kid stuff to sort out.

How A Rabbit Wedding Do: A traditional wedding, in island culture, is just supposed to be a really good normal day with a pinch of ceremony on top. This is because hopefully its the start of the many many happy normal days that the couple will have together. It might not be the best day you’ll ever have, and there are uncomfortable bits, and someone might cry on you/try to fight you, but everyone is coming together to be happy and hang out and tell embarrassing stories. Its supposed to be stress-free and fun.

Morning: The morning of, the couple walks to the festival area together. There are no rules against seeing the bride/groom/whatever beforehand as separation just seems to ramp up the stress when they finally do see each other. Couples dress to their comfort, sometimes showing up in their fanciest clothes, sometimes in pajamas. Most shoot for somewhere comfortably in the middle. All clothing is notably colorful and bright instead of the usual ‘outside’ camouflage wear. Part of the stress-free thing is that the entire area is heavily protected for the wedding days and dressing like a giant predator target is a kind of symbolic trust in your community to make sure you and your hypothetical future offspring won’t get ate while you try to have a nice time.

The ceremony starts when couples that arrive at the festival grounds are seated at blanketed breakfast areas set out by their families. Siblings and close friends being married on the same day are set up on connecting blankets. This is usually where the first bout of crying starts, as each of the engaged is presented with a light headscarf called a Clofour.

Clofours are dyed and decorated strips of fabric made by family and friends. Its kind of like a signed yearbook that you wear on your head. They’re usually covered with bright patterns, warm blessings, and playful insults which are read aloud by the couple and heckled by the other guests. You can put anything you want on them as long as it looks pretty and cohesive as a whole. Does this mean that people have been gifted Clofours that have ‘I Love You Asshole’ or ‘I Cherish Every Moment With You But You Still Own Me Five Coin’ painstakingly embroidered in beautiful lango script on the petal of a watercolor blossom before? You bet. Rabbits don’t stop being rabbits just because its wedding time.

Clofours are the only custom piece of wedding attire the couples bother with and is the equivalent of a wedding gown/wedding tux for rabbits. Once the couple is fitted in their Clofours and that one uncle stops crying, they don Meeting cloaks.

Meeting cloaks are used in all sorts of important ceremonies, and are usually passed around families for special occasions. They’re mat black on the outside and white or gold on the inside. They get their name from the minimalistic designs depicting the meeting of land/water and sky that cover them. Patterning and land/water/sky combinations vary between families and island regions, kind of like a loose coat of arms. Usually worn by those receiving accolades or at the head of events, meeting cloaks can be made for specific couples or occasions but its far more common to borrow one from a friend or use one your family already has. Especially for anything traditional like a wedding. You’re not even really supposed to wear one that hasn’t been worn before if you didn’t make it yourself, tailors often set aside a day to wear them around before giving a new cloak to a customer.

After the couple is dressed and fed, they head to a tent to get their Bonding Sigils done. Bonding sigils are basically like rabbit (and hare) wedding rings. Before the placing of sigils begins, Orchids separate the couple with heavy dividing curtains and urge them to air out any grievances or nervous feelings about the marriage and ask for advice. They should have talked all this out before hand of course, but some people need a quiet space and a trusted neutral ear to say what they really feel. Very rarely does this lead to a change of heart. No one really wants to walk out of that tent alone.

When a person is done with their talk, they sit down with a beautician and a local elder midwife to start the ceremony bit of the wedding. Large triangles of fur are shaved off of each of their wrists, and after thorough washing a mixture of henna and blackdoe fungus ink is applied in designs chosen by the couple. Designs are often traditional but can be custom if the couple brings a drawing of what they want. This can be genius or disaster, it depends. The beautician can usually spot who’s grandparents are gonna be cussing up a storm later and tries to sway them. Meanwhile, the midwife chants marriage blessings from a few island gods:

Haaah: God of relaxation after strain/release/safe havens/ self care/ self love. You ask him for safety in your life together and promise to treasure the worth of your partner and yourself. (also…you know…great sexy times if you’re into that)

Flaroti: God of yelling/the need to be known/connections with other people/communication. You ask her for the strength to speak up if something is wrong or right in your relationship. Sometimes you gotta work difficult things out in uncomfortable ways but you should also never be stingy with compliments and acknowledgment of your partner’s achievements. Additionally, realize when your comments are more hurtful than helpful and keep you mouth shut. There’s also some long bits about apologies and forgiveness and body language and secret codes hidden in the sound of a lovers sleeping breaths or the number of their eyelashes or the drops of blood that fall when they’re pricked by bramble thorns, but the midwife usually cuts these short for time.

And Gone: God of travel/separation/bravery/broken homes/missing people. You ask him for temporary separations that always bring you back together unharmed or permanent separations that are done painlessly and for the good of both of you.

After the blessings are done and the designs have dried enough so that they can’t be easily smudged, the Orchid escorts the couple out the tent. Their wrists are held up to waiting onlookers, and they watch their parents burst into tears again.

These designs will fade but take about a year to fully do so and married couples get their designs refreshed on anniversaries.

Midday (the bulk of the wedding): Then they do whatever.

Seriously, the whole middle of the wedding days are just couples going off and doing whatever they want without any responsibilities or major cares. Some treat it like a luxurious date day. Some invite friends along and party it up. Some split up and meet up later. Some disappear together and only show back up for the evening service where they are either subjected to lewd heckles or concerned whispers depending on how haunted their eyes look and where in the woods they wandered off to. A lot of people head to the graveyard with a local necromancer to give the good news to family who couldn’t make it. You’re not supposed to do any work but some do. Some just take a real good nap. The guards like the ones who nap, they don’t have to worry about them. I mean, sometimes they do? But those are rare and mostly involve having to go get their sigils touched up since their grip has probably smudged them.

The Evening: In the evening a closing ceremony is held. A large silver basin of scented water is set in the middle of the festival area. Salt or fresh water doesn’t matter on the island but mainland rabbits always use salt water as it doesn’t give the right reaction otherwise. A small bell sits beside it and the area is surrounded by colorful lanterns and flowers. Everyone is quietly seated on blankets as the couples walk in, hand in hand, wicker baskets full of smoking, fragrant herbs now attached to their Meeting Cloaks. The smoke behaves strangely, like dry ice vapor, only falling to the ground and fanning out behind them, creating ethereal trains and veils as the wearers walk. And elder midwife, priest, and necromancer stand in front of the basin holding thin candles and direct couples to their positions around it. Once everyone is in their place the trio of elders say a few words of wisdom, (usually very short, people are getting hungry) and then motion to the couples to start the rinsing. Each couple dunks their hands in the water and rinses the excess henna/ink mixture off of their partner’s wrists. During the rinsing the elders chime the bell four times, the Midwife is first and rings twice, then the Priest, then the Necromancer. After the fourth chime the couples remove their hands from the water and step back as the elders drop their candles into the blackened basin. The surface of the water catches fire but dies quickly, leaving a pool of inky black with shimmering golden swirls. Its very mystical and solemn and its all ruined by everyone hooting and hollering when the couples walk back to their family seats.

The day closes out after dinner and dancing. Everyone laughs and parties and pointedly avoids staring at the things that come out of the dark to drink out of the silver basin.

Did you know its almost unheard of for anyone to die in the year after their wedding if they do it traditionally? If they do it right? Just a weird unrelated fact.

Mainland rabbits are starting to forget how to do it right.

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monotonemanday · 7 years ago

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Our Days Divided - Mystic Messenger University AU - Chapter 7 The S Team

It’s back! Sorry it hasn’t been out for awhile! I have been working on several things lately!! And also I’ve been a little sick. (My eyeballs are always in pain lololol) Tagging you ladies because I know Helena is mad at me lol and the loml likes this series and I appreciate her! @zennyshoneybunch @glitterybitchwitch

The gang was all gathered together and Kaeli was enjoying all the lighthearted chatting that was going on amongst her peers. She decided that they wouldn't have to get down to business. They could start talking serious logistics and planning next time they all would meet. There was no lull or shortage of laughter in the conversation going around the room. The Untouchables and the tuition kids were thriving and lively mixed together. Even though there was a bit too much teasing of Jumin from the scholarship kids, even he seemed to be having a pleasant time.

Seven was getting in his daily dose of driving Yoosung insane when his watch started to set off a rapid beeping noise. At the same time, a small pager type device in Samantha's back pocket began to do the same. Her head whipped in Sevens direction and the sternness in her face made Seven wince. His face scrunched and a look in his narrowed eyes saying “please please don't kill me.”

“You told him I wasn't going to training the other night, right?”

“Well here's the thing, Sam. I uh, didn't goooo.” Seven rubbed the back of his neck and shot a smile at her trying to diffuse the situation. “And not only did I not go, I didn't tell him that I wasn't going.”

“WHAT?!” Samantha turned her body in a sharp motion starting a sprint but fumbling. Using her hands to slap the floor and keep going so she didn't fall completely, Seven made his way bolting out of the doors with her. “IDIOT!! HE'S GOING TO KILL US!”

“I KNOW, I KNOW I'M SORRY! T_T” Seven and Sam were running down the halls out to the fresh open air of the campus, darting across the grounds of Cypress. Maneuvering their way in between passerby’s and vaulting over shrubbery and half walls.

“I swear if he takes away our garage privileges, I'll kill you Saeyoung Choi!

“Sam if you don't stop nagging me and pick up the pace we're already dead!”

They had made it into one of the large athletic buildings on campus and were now sprinting to the escalators that led down to the areas only accessible to certified personnel. Running down the steps of the escalator, swerving through the few people patiently riding the escalator in the proper fashion. They reached the card readers and ran their ID badges in front of them. Not patient enough for the gate to open, Sam hurdled it and Seven slipped through the small crack it had opened already. A few more hallways and the two made it to their assigned training facility. Both hunched over, hands resting on their knees and catching their breath, they began to apologize profusely to the tall and sturdy man before them.

He was built. In jogger sweatpants and a v-neck tee that hugged his biceps. He stood there in his signature purple, arms crossed and hair tied back.

“Ah, so some form of communication IS working for the two of you. I was worried since I hadn't heard from anyone.”

“Vanderwood we're so sorry, we-Hmmphh!” As seven tried to reply he was hit in the gut my a heavy medicine ball. Sam had kept quiet. She had known better. Any apology or excuse would just piss their boss off further.

“Shut up. Your running here in a panic warmed you up. Good. Tactical obstacle course...now.”

Saeyoung and Sam hustled to the locker room to change. They both immediately began to strip off their everyday clothes. There was no hesitation or embarrassment. They were both used to this. They had been partners for 2 years now. Samantha was always a little bit faster at changing. Maybe it was a girl thing. She already was ready down to her shoes. All black. A plain black baseball cap, a black sports bra, black running pants, and all black converse sneakers. Standing with her arms crossed and her right hip popped out, she watched seven with an arched brow. Biting her bottom lip.

He was sweating from the running they had just done. He was only in black sweatpants. The redhead didn't look like much in civilian clothes but underneath the loose fabric he had always hid behind, he was trim and fit. The v shape leading to his nether region was very defined and his set of abs were toned and clearly sculpted. His biceps weren't as big as Vanderwoods. He wasn't busting out of his shirts, but you could tell he was a hacker. He used the muscles in his arms a lot. From the shoulder down to his fingertips. He ran his hands through his hair, pushing his bangs back and caught wind of Samantha's gaze.

“What pervert?”

“Nothing,” Samantha said, a smirk on her lips. “It's just a real shame you have that mouth on you. Plus, You kind of smell.” She tossed him his t-shirt and made her way out of the locker room.

“Brat.” Seven mumbled under his breath.

“Saeran? Saeran? SAERAN!” Liz slapped her hands on the counter.

“What!” He stood up from where he had been leaning on the counter in the flower shop. Stretching his arms above his head and letting out a yawn.

“You were being creepy. Just staring like that.” They heard giggling coming from the far corner of the shop. “But apparently it didn't shoo the girls away.” Liz rolled her eyes and hopped up on the counter, taking a seat.

“Liz, you know you're not supposed to sit up there.”

“Yes, I just don't care. Where is your brother? He isn't answering his phone?”

“Aahh. That's actually why I was in that deadpan stare. I was thinking. What the hell are they keeping from us?”

Liz had pulled out an apple from her backpack and took a monstrous bite. She spoke through a full mouth. “What? Who? Saeyoung and Samantha? Keeping what?”

“I know they go to training for athletics but it's more than that. Like they've been gone ever since they ran out of the room earlier today. It's been hours.”

“Oh calm down rebel boy. Afraid they're having some secret affair?”

“Gross. No.” “Yeah. You're right. Ahahahahaha. That would be something else. Anyway, I just came by to see if you had heard from them. I want to go get a milkshake. And since you're still working and also wouldn't give me a piggyback ride like Saeyong would, I'm not inviting you.” Saeran rolled his eyes and Liz jumped from the counter and the bell to the flower shop chimed lightly.

“Good evening you two. It is nice to see you again.”

“Oh, Hi there, Jumin!! You are looking very handsome! Have you come to whisk me away and show me how the rich live?” Liz was lively and clearly joking but it had gone over his head.

“Why thank you, Miss Paradise. And unfortunately I don't exactly know what you mean but I am actually here to speak with Saeran.” Jumin spoke very calmly. You wouldn't even guess his inner monologue was shouting “Oh God I don't know what that means but it might be her making advances. What do I do? Jihyun is not here!”

Saeran could tell that Liz had confused the poor guy so he gave her a gentle nudge to the side. “Looking for me? What can I do for you, Jumin?”

“Ah well, the arrangement of flowers you had brought to us the other day. It was remarkable. I am holding another event soon and I would like to commission you and this small shop. I will pay any extra amount necessary to get this establishment all the things it will require for such a tall order.”

“Oh man, that's pretty decent of you, Jumin. But I should check with the owner first. She is elderly and I wouldn't want to overwhelm her.”

“Saeran, hush. It will be fine. HE'LL DO IT!” Liz jumped out in front of Saeran who irritatedly pushed her back out of the way.

“Liz, knock it off!”

“I understand. Please discuss with the owner. Also, I would like to extend an invitation to this event to all of you that are apart of this new group we have formed.”

Liz's eyes lit up with excitement and Saeran shot her a classic, calm your ass, look. Jumin spent a little more time than he had intended in the flower shop chatting with Liz and Saeran, and the girls who normally came to ogle and the boy with the white hair were now overwhelmed with the black haired eye candy they were now receiving as well.

Samantha climbed the ladder and made quick of hopping over the ledge and beginning to run when she heard someone shout her name. It was Vanderwood. If looks could kill. His glare was icy and as soon as he knew she felt it he flicked his eyes toward Saeyoung. Samantha knew what it meant. She was going to fast and not thinking of her partner. She ran back and leaned over the edge reaching down to her partner who was climbing the ladder. He took her hand and she hoisted him up over the ledge. The two began to run. Jumping, hurdling, sliding, flipping. Doing whatever they needed to in order to get from point A to point B. The simulation was a bit harder today since Vanderwood was clearly pissed at them. Saeyoung was never as fast as Samantha but if he really wanted to he was sure he could at least keep pace with her, but he always hung back just a bit so he could focus on hacking doors or locks for her. Basically clearing a path for them. Sam was always amazed at how quick he was when it came to hacking. Even though Samantha didn't like to wait for her partner, the two were still always so in tune. When Seven got tripped up and found himself caught in the arms of a bot, Samantha made quick work of turning around and throwing a small tranquilizer at the bought precisely where in between the eyes would be on an actual human. Saeyoung was always quick to shoot or disarm enemies that came in from the sides if Samantha was occupied on whatever was in front of them. They had each other's backs.

They finally finished their tactical run of the course and approached Vanderwood, laughing and high fiving. Quite pleased with themselves. Vanderwood, however, was not so amused.

“That was rookie. Too many mistakes. Sloppy. So miss training again and the consequences will be severe.”

Samantha and Saeyoung stood in silence. Normally the two would bicker with each other or say something just to be a smart ass, but they knew Vanderwood was not in the mood. Less than he usually was even.

“Now listen. You guys are getting an assignment.”

“YaHHOOO!” Seven jumped up and exclaimed. “ow!” And then immediately found Sam's fist in the side of his bicep.

“What kind of assignment, Vandy?” Samantha was met with cold cold eyes. “Vanderwood. Sorry.”

“There is going to be an event for elitists. There are rumors of it being targeted. We are flagging this one because there's a bit of an unusual circumstance. Two parties are holding events. The big corporate hot shot they should be after isn't their target. It's his son.” Vanderwood handed Seven a picture and Samantha didn't even need to look.

“You're going to watch over the event. Behind the scenes and protect your mark. Got it?”

“Got it.” The two partners responded abruptly.

“Alright, we'll have an official briefing soon. Go clean up.” Vanderwood left without a second glance and Samantha took her baseball cap off, chucking it to the side.

“Shit. Is it?” She tilted her head back in exasperation.

“Yup.” Seven pinned the picture against Sam's chest and began to make his way to the locker room. “The Trust Fund Kid.”

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