#The Crystallized Horde | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mainstreamangel · 20 days ago

Text

CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT

P. Bueckers x Fem!Reader

Summary: You love your girl, your girl loves you.

Genre: Fluff

Warning(s): for the sake of this fic she's on the dw team but the uconn players if that makes sense?

WC: 1.6k

Reporters called your name. Microphones were shoved in your face, some asking about rumors and allegations, other asking about your career.

You kept your head down, holding onto Paige's hand as she walked in front of you, trying her best to push the paparazzi out of your guys' way.

"Paige, how does it feel to date a snake?"

"Paige, do you have any words for the media?"

A few reporters called your name.

"Where have you been the last year? You completely disappeared from the media."

"Rumors speculated that you were cheating on Bueckers. Is that true?"

"She didn't cheat and she won't ever cheat." Paige answered that one and made it crystal clear about her opinion.

You had disappeared off the media for a while after receiving bad backlash for your opinions on a certain male celebrity.

You weren't sorry for your opinions though. They were yours and you would go to the grave for that.

"Paige, what do you have to say about the rumours?"

Finally, Paige held the door open to your studio and security held the horde off.

"Thank you P."

"Anytime, ma."

My castle crumbled overnight. I brought a knife to a gunfight. They took the crown, but it's alright.

"Singer and songwriter [Name] continues to lie and damage her reputation. But with fizzled efforts, she continues to receive hate, his status seemingly untouched." You read.

"What a dick."

"I didn't even do anything wrong. They just hate when a woman threatens his legacy with just a few sparkles and a witty mind." You scoffed.

"It's going to be alright, you're going to come back from it."

"I hope so."

Paige grabbed your hand and rubbed it slightly.

"I love you."

You smiled and returned her love before reaching for your guitar.

"I'm almost done with my new album I just need one last song. Luckily I have my own personal muse that I can take inspiration off of." You smirked and Paige laughed.

All the liars are calling me one. Nobody's heard from me for months. I'm doing better than I ever was.

You tuned your guitar and started thinking of lyrics for the bridge.

"I have to say your song, 'So It Goes' is probably my favourite."

"Yeah just cause it's about you."

Paige smirked and you threw a pillow at her which she caught and hugged against her.

"You're amazing you know that? Your true fans will see right through that son of a bitch." Paige reassured.

You smiled and nodded. You knew this comeback was going to be intense.

You had felt anger and frustration throughout your time off, but Paige always made you come out of that state and she reminded you that revenge wasn't the answer. It would just prove the media right.

So you decided for your next album you were going to write a few songs addressing the rumors and the media but focus mostly on the love that you shared from your friends, family, and importantly, Paige. You wanted to address the gratitude you felt from those fans who stuck around, those who never listened to the hate.

'Cause my baby's fit like a daydream. Walkin' with her head down, I'm the one she's walkin' to.

Taking a guitar pick you started finding the right chords for the song and getting used to the movement.

So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to. My baby's fly like a jet stream. High above the whole scene, loves me like I'm brand new. So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to.

You sang. Your voice filled Paige's ears as she listened to you.

You laughed as you sang because she stared so intensely at you with love and adoration, you knew that you guys were endgame. Unless stated otherwise by her, you knew she was it for you.

"Paige, what do you have to say about your girl's leak of her new album?"

"Paige, what can we expect from her when she comes back to the public eye?"

"Paige! Paige! Paige!"

Paige looked down and continued walking, her hair flew beside her, giving her some coverage from the cameras. She didn't want to answer any questions that weren't related to just her or her basketball career.

"Paige, we heard that your girl is going on tour when she drops the album. Do you think it'll be a flop tour?"

Paige finally got inside the gym and greeted her team.

"Hey P." Azzi greeted with a quick hug.

"Your girl alright? Got some nasty questions from the press on the way over here." Ice asked shooting baskets from different angles of the court.

"Yeah, sorry about that guys." Paige sighed.

"Nah, no worries, hope she's well. I know if I was her I wouldn't last a second."

"Yeah, she's definitely stronger than I am." KK laughed, mindlessly dribbling the ball.

"We don't believe those rumours though. She'd never do that."

"Thanks guys." Paige said, warming up.

All my flowers grew back as thorns. Windows boarded up after the storm.

You walked out onto the streets ignoring the press again, security doing their best to block the people off. You just wanted to go watch your girl's practice, but the public was making that very difficult.

Someone called your name. It was a mother with her young daughter.

"Can we have an autograph? Or a picture? My daughter really loves your stuff and it would make her so happy."

You smiled and bent a bit so that her mom could take the photo. After, you take the vinyl of your last album '1989', and sign your signature in black sharpie.

Adding a little heart you hand it back and say your farewells before heading into the court.

The sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor and the loud reverbs of basketballs entered your ears.

You put your sunglasses on top of your head again and sit off to the side.

She built a fire just to keep me warm. All the drama queens taking swings. All the jokers dressin' up as kings, they fade to nothin' when I look at her.

Sure being a public figure was hard. Both of you knew that. But everytime you looked into her eyes, you only saw her. It made you feel... regular. Like you lived a domestic life with Paige and didn't have to worry about judgmental creeps who always had something to say.

You got out your notebook and a pen trying to come up with your last song's bridge.

Your name was called and you looked up.

"Hey babe." You stood up and fell into her arms. Sure she was sweaty, but damn was she hot.

Her hair was slicked back into a ponytail and her jersey hung loosely on her figure.

"What're you doing here?"

"Needed inspiration so I came to stare at you." You half joked.

"Mrs. Bueckers!" KK joked.

The team always said Paige and you were like the parents of the team. Paige was the fun mother who always followed your lead and you were the mother who had run this game for a minute.

"Hey KK. Nice shots."

"Thanks."

Paige continued to talk for a bit then headed back to practice some more. You sat back down and continued to stare at the blank portion of your song.

I'm laughin' with my lover, makin' forts under covers. Trust her like no other, yeah, you know I did one thing right. Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night.

One reporter's voice stood out to you on your way here. "How does that make you feel?" It was perfect. You started to scribble something down and before you knew it you had come up with the perfect bridge. That would tie the song off and hopefully you and Paige.

"Can I see?" Paige had been so excited after you told her you finished your last song and inevitably the whole album.

"In a minute, I wanna run it by the producer before I confirm it."

"I can't wait, ma."

"I know P."

My baby's fit like a daydream. Walkin' with his head down, I'm the one he's walkin' to. So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to.

"Sounds good. You did a good job." Your producer said.

"Thanks, worked hard on this one."

"I can tell, now go celebrate, we'll release your album at midnight."

You stared at the screen. The promotion banner would be released everywhere at midnight. Then your album shortly after.

HERE LIES [NAME]'S REPUTATION.

My baby's fly like a jet stream. High above the whole scene, loves me like I'm brand new. So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to.

"Can I hear it now?" Paige begged.

You nodded and got your guitar out.

I want to wear her initial, on a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck. Not because she owns me.

Paige's initial necklace hung around your neck. It had been an anniversary gift, a token of her love.

But 'cause he really knows me. Which is more than they can say, I, I recall late November, holdin' my breath, slowly I said:

"You don't need to save me, but would you run away with me?"

You sang your heart out, feeling the music and the emotion you conjured from simple lyrics and a simple lover. You closed the song with the final verse and Paige tackled you into a hug.

"This album is going to be so great, ma." You smiled and hugged her back.

Call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to.

#wbb #wnba #paige x reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers

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mihii-i · 4 months ago

Note

hear me out..... mizu x fem reader, a oneshot, smut, they're already together, they are out in town as 'husband and wife' while they obtain information. The reader is a brat, Mizu literally fucks the ever living SHIT out of her. Teasing and mocking until the reader is blabbing out apologies that are barely even coherent. SHI ION KNOW WHEN STRAPS WERE MADE BUT IF YOU BUST THAT OUT I WOULD BE VERY GRATEFUL 🙏 and of course aftercare with lots of praise yk bc if ur gonna call me a slut at least kiss my face and call me ur pretty slut thank YEW

chimes of the shamisen.

Pairings: mizu x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, female reader, afab reader, wlw, let’s ignore the episode’s events and the shindo dojo shit because yay sex, freaky asf obv, but first angst bc im evil kitty, bratty ass reader, argument, mizu is lowkey at fault for it too tho, but reader is still a bitch, hardcore sesbian lex, little bit of soft stuff sprinkled because I cannot write mizu going full on rough and angy with her lover, it feels ooc she would be atleast a little sweet :(, strapon use/harigata, the strap legit came outta nowhere, horny shit god, i genuinely don’t know if this is classified as degradation but I hate degrading so hope not, crying, really fucking rough I don’t think I ever wrote something this insane, not proofread.

A/N: ugh this lowkey turned out bad cause my tea was bad but im loving the stream of mizu requests I am absolutely feral over this woman like I want to kiss and hug her in my arms while also wanting her to tear off my clothes it ain’t funny anymore I GENUINELY DONT KNOW HOW TO FEEL ABOUT WRITING EXTRA FREAKY MIZU BUT YER WELCOME. 🕯️

Blisteringly cold sweeps of wind swayed in the air in a near painful freeze as crystals of snowflakes sunk upon touching the bare skin of your hand, your tense shoulder pushed up against Mizu’s cloaked one in an attempt to seek a sliver of warmth against the stinging cold. It was currently nearing the end of the nullifying freeze of winter, spring approaching in supposedly a few weeks from now in hopes of thawing out the erected statures blanketed in a gentle white.

Both you and Mizu navigated your way through the dips and trails of each snow heaped pathway in the city, remaining side by side as you two shouldered past the hordes of people pouring in through Kyoto’s streets. Throughout your support for her during the perilous tread to find the remaining men she sought to kill, you had assumed the title of her supposed ‘wife,’ while Mizu, still under the guise of a man, displayed herself as your husband.

Honestly, it was quite difficult to fathom why you were trailing behind this bloodthirsty woman, who would snap apart the bones of any living creature she came across for the sake of her wretched revenge—pulsing through every vein in her body, like an unrest that compelled her stubborn soul to live on. You always questioned yourself as you trudged by her side, eyes frequently staring down at your own feet buried in the thick layers of snow to ponder why your heart raced for a demon presumed to have nothing but hatred oozing from any noticeable crevice of light within her.

You nudged your fingers against her palm, reaching over as your knuckles came into contact with the calloused ridges of her own. Almost in a seemingly desperate sense, your fingertips danced along her skin occasionally as if you were pleading to hold her hand, only to end up cupping your hand around nothing as she pulled away with each gesture of yours seeking her affection. Mizu subtly nodded her head toward you, tilting her chin up to meet your gaze through the orange tint of her glasses.

“Not now. Focus on getting more information regarding Heiji Shindo.”

It was getting tiring. Annoying even.

Mizu initially proposed the idea of cloaking yourselves under the cover of a husband and wife to seek information, to which you agreed. Considering the two of you had been together for quite some time, you believed that it wouldn’t hurt to cover yourself with an impenetrable front. Surely your false marriage wouldn’t get questioned considering how touchy and affectionate you were with Mizu, proudly believing that such a plan would remain the same as usual.

Unfortunately for you, it might have to be time to come to terms with the fact that her revenge mattered more than you.

All of her recent actions reflected a strict focus to the goal she had set, refusing to indulge in even the smallest of pleasures with her own ‘wife.’ You constantly strode alongside her through Kyoto’s crowded infrastructure, shielded by the overarching shadow of her kasa shrouding her face as she opened her mouth to inquire of the Shindo Dojo’s whereabouts left and right.

You couldn’t bear to see her disappointed expression whenever she was ignored or directed incorrectly, one of the residents even leading her to a pleasure house, much to her discomfort. However, nothing served to dilate the pit in your stomach more than Mizu brushing you off, rolling her shoulder past you whenever she was fixated on gathering information about some piece of shit connected to one of the white men hiding in Japan.

You knew she didn’t hate you. In fact, Mizu loved you like you were the most precious thing she had ever set her sights on. Held you and whispered in your ears that you were one of the only people that ever mattered to her, and how grateful she was to have you, all while you were hemmed in her overflowing grasp of affection. Yet, you were unable to help the twinge of discomposure swirling in your chest at how…comfortable she felt neglecting you like this.

Of course in retaliation, you began to bite back at her lack of feeling towards you ever since you reached Kyoto under the disguise, growing increasingly despondent to the words that left her mouth. The annoyance alone she was able to inflict on you in these past few days was more than enough to fuel a minuscule revenge of your own. You’d always snap back toward Mizu, words tinged with a short of sharp edge to them, & contrasting the usual gentle demeanor you often displayed for her.

Looking around the cramped lanes, you remained to Mizu’s side as her own eyes traced every inch of the vicinity, briefly tilting her glasses along the bridge of her nose to capture a clear view as darkness clouded the sky in a shrouding night. Rays of moonlight kissing the rippling bodies of water engulfing the bridge off at the end, accompanied by the muted lamps provided a faint expansion of light within such a late portion of day, some starting to die out into a smoky grey one by one.

A disappointed huff fell from Mizu’s lips at the sight of nightfall descending upon the two of you, striking a halt in the investigation that had been dragged out for the whole day. Although you’d never admit it to her, you wanted to breathe out a prolonged sigh of relief once your info gathering induction had ceased for the day, unsure of how much longer you could rasp out another word about the black market merchant.

“(Name). We’re done for today, let me know if you find a decent place to rest.”

“Shouldn’t you look for one yourself? It’s the husband’s job to provide obviously.” You muttered, loud enough for Mizu to hear as you rolled your eyes.

“This is a false front and you know it. Stop being so stuck up and just listen to me.”

“Or what? Fucking hell Mizu, is it stuck up to ask for a little attention from my girlfriend?”

The sudden announcement of your relationship’s actual title cause her eyes to shoot wide open, cocking an eyebrow in evident disrelish toward your lack of compliance.

“You know full well that we’re in the middle of something important, and you’re simply acting like an attention seeking child!” Mizu hissed under her breath, attempting to keep her voice subtle to avert any attention away from the two of you.

“I don’t care. You just brush me off like I don’t exist when you’re clearly supposed to act like my husband.”

“Quit acting so fucking bratty and maybe I’ll give you what you want after we’re done.”

“Forget it, Mizu. Can’t believe I’m in love with a demon like you.”

You could almost hear Mizu’s breath hitch in her throat, swallowing back a lump as her lips remained parted in a frown. Her eyes roamed over you in disdain, brows knitting together as her eyelids lowered into a contorted expression of annoyance and hurt.

Regret clawed at your mind as you took in Mizu’s expression, clearly not displaying a particular fixation on hurt alone, but definitely harboring a chagrin of sorts. You felt your heart ache, realizing the words you had just uttered to your lover, unable to reflect upon what you just said to the woman you supposedly loved as she turned her back to you. Was she leaving you? Right here?

You jolted up at the sight of her head tilted over her shoulder to glance back at you, a cold expression still carved onto her already wounded gaze.

“Are you coming or not?”

Clearing your throat, you managed a soundless nod in response, the crunch of your footsteps being the only thing breaking the silence fostered between the two of you. A surge of anxiety crept up within you, the bitter taste flat against your tongue from the sheer feeling along worse than raw bile. What the hell was the matter with you? You claim you love her yet you struck a blow at one of her deepest insecurities? You couldn’t even begin to comprehend how disgusted you were with yourself right now.

Your footsteps abruptly ceased their movements as soon as you noticed Mizu’s own feet, stationary and sunken in the snow as she eyed the large wooden building with a sign hammered along a plank off to its right in a messy fashion. She immediately pivoted in the direction of the paper door upfront, pressing her fingers to the wall to push it aside and make way as it disappeared the further it was slid.

Despite following suit, you had completely blanked out, mind fogged with nothing but a storm of plaguing thoughts and raw hatred for your earlier words lurching at your chest. In this very moment, you couldn’t even begin to describe the guilt gnawing at the back of your head over and over. Similarly to a demon whispering in your ear endlessly to send you spiraling into madness.

No. You don’t get to put the blame on a demon. You demeaned your beloved as an onryō despite claiming to love her. The only real demon here was you.

A swift tap dragged along your shoulder shook you out of your jaundiced trance, Mizu’s unfeeling eyes stabbing through yours as she stared you down.

“Come on. There’s a room available.”

You cocked your head in confusion, not following the series of events that followed while your mind was wandering off. A sigh pushed past her tongue as she looked over at you, an unamused look painted all over her face.

“The room. We’re staying at an inn for the night. Then we continue investigating tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay..”

That was all you could whisper out. Even speaking to her reminded you of that pained expression etched onto her face, draining the affection thay once presided in her blue eyes.

As soon as the door to your room slid open, such a minute detail presenting itself before you twisted like a dagger to your heart, feeling it drop to your stomach like a heavy stone. The two futons situated on the floor, one each big enough to fit both you and Mizu on it, yet still having two seperate beds against the floor far apart from each other. Was this some higher power’s way of telling you that your relationship was done for?

Not wanting to be held back by spacing out again, you begrudgingly set your foot down within the confines of the room, stepping into it as you were drawn to the futon on the far left. Kneeling beside it, a somber tiredness masked your face as you stared down at the fabric, with a few slight wrinkles adorning its stretched edges. The futon was quite spacious as it was splayed out on the tatami mat, oddly comfortable as well as you ran a hand along the surface.

You paused for a moment, slowly turning a head behind your shoulder until you caught sight of Mizu in your periphery, intently transfixed on her grasping at the kasa in her hands before setting it down beside the end of her own futon, her tinted glasses following alongside her cloak in a small pile of discarded clothes—if you could even call such accessories that. The weights strapped to her arms and legs also loosened to the floor with a clank, joining the discard pile as she took in a deep breath.

Mizu almost immediately plopped herself atop the futon without so much as looking over at you, back facing you as she lay on her side with the weight of her head pressured atop her arm.

“Blow out the candle for me, will you?”

Averting your gaze from her back, you sluggishly padded over to the candle, each step you took burning your heels as you felt like you were carrying the deadweight of your own body. A quick rush of wind was expelled from your lungs as you puckered your lips to blow out the candle, the flame flickering momentarily before vanishing into a thin trail of smoke wavering in the air and stinging your nostrils.

The strong miasma of smoke you were close to began to swirl within your throat within the darkness of the room, breath hitching as your head fogged up from discomfort. Perhaps you should refrain from inhaling smoke, only idiots come close enough to purposefully take in the scent of an air that could beset your lungs.

Only idiots hurt the person they love, much less if that person has been hurt enough in their past.

Returning to your futon, you also proceeded to lay on your side facing away from Mizu, fighting back the urge to want to see her gorgeous face. You closed your eyes, albeit a bit hesitantly as you screwed them shut, wallowing the quiet, wordless atmosphere fostered in the darkness once dimly illuminated by a tiny flame.

Or rather, former silence.

Your eyes almost immediately shot open at the abrupt chime of a distant shamisen echoing miles away in the dead of night. The smooth strums continued to ring in your ears in a soothing, yet harsh melody. Strange. They often didn’t hold any kabuki theater plays this late at night. You remained perplexed at the endless melodic chimes of the shamisen, yet oddly relaxed. Unable to comprehend the reason behind such a noise drifting through the streets so late, yet enjoying the comfort it enveloped you in.

Such a shame your comfort tore away from you, this night possibly being the last night you could even lay eyes upon your lover. You were sure you’d shattered everything you had with one simple comment alone. In this moment, you were no better than the man who had betrayed her in the past.

No.

No. You could never be apart from Mizu.

She was everything to you. You were nothing but determined to repair what you had supposedly shattered, using all you had to get the pieces to snap back together as with every ounce of internal strength you could muster if that’s what it took.

You sat up in one fluid motion, weakly dragging yourself over to Mizu’s futon while swallowing back the urge to just head back and sleep, ignoring the notion that this wouldn’t make it any better. Her body rose and fell with each breath she took in her slumber, eyes shut with a weary expression even as she slept. Without hesitation, you adjusted yourself to curl up directly behind her in a spooning position of sorts, arms encircling her waist almost immediately as you pressed your nose against her nape.

Mizu only shot you a quizzical glare, blinking groggily at the sight of your arms tightly fastened around her waist.

“Your bed is over there, you know.”

“These futons are enough for two people. Besides, I want to sleep next to my husband.” You muttered against her skin, breath fluttering against her nape in a warm embrace. Her breath caught in her throat at the mention of the false title the two of you had to act on, muscles tensing up in your grasp.

“What if I kill you? I am a demon after all.” She reiterated, a bitter edge cutting a pang of anguish directly into the existing wound of guilt embedded within you. “I don’t care..” you choked out in a shaky voice, dragging your lower lip between your teeth to suppress the tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Mizu.”

…

The entire room fell silent once more, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest as soon as you felt the warm embrace of Mizu’s arms tightly curled around you, squeezing you to her chest as her face was buried within your hair.

“I shouldn’t have brushed you off like that either.”

You shook your head against her chest, a few tears rolling down your cheeks as Mizu’s expression relaxed, softening as she held you close to herself. Both of you remained in eachother’s embrace for a bit, relishing in the warmth of your wholehearted adoration. Despite the ridges that walled between you two at times, you would always come back to her. You know full well that she meant everything to you, while she reciprocated the same. She only hushed any more apologies spilling profusely from you, holding you tighter.

“Please..Mizu..let me do anything to make it up to you. Anything at all.”

You’ll never forget the sudden flare of hunger roused in her pupils as those words vibrated in her ears, bare hands outlining your body up to dig into your shoulders. Her voice came out in a quiet hum as she pursed her lips together, shaky hands fighting the ravenous desire to yank down the shoulders of your kimono right then and there.

“Anything?”

It didn't take long for you to catch onto her implication, your breath fanning in a series of shallow exhales as your torso pressed to hers with an urgent desire aflame within every drop of blood, every rushing fiber within your body screaming her name. Tilting your head up, you only rasped out a breathless plea as your lips ghosted over Mizu's, her heart pounding furiously against her chest to which you could quite literally feel from the clothed chest to chest proximity.

A palpable heat crept into the air as it fogged the atmosphere between you two, the tension fostered thick with a lustful infatuation hinted with the beauty of love itself. You couldn’t even pretend to hold yourself back, practically lunging yourself at Mizu as your lips smashed against her own, locking yourself in a passionate grasp accompanied by her hands wandering your body shamelessly as if she wanted to tear everything off without regard.

You gasped against her lips in response to her tightened hands bunching up fistfuls of your kimono silk, bundled up within her grasp as her tongue dragged along your lower lip, completely lost in the intense craving to devour you whole. Leaning back, you didn’t resist her hands tracing the darkened silhouette of your figure to slide down the shoulders of your clothing, urging her to undress you completely as you writhed in the unbearable heat your clothes trapped you in.

It didn’t take long for you to lay before her, flat against your back fully bare while your eyes lingered over Mizu’s now unclothed form as well, taking in every part of her nude body as you felt your face burn a deep crimson from the sheer beauty of the sight before your eyes. You couldn’t help but lose yourself in those gorgeous blue eyes, now heavy lidded and misted over with a covetous desire boring into your own.

Her lips found their way across your skin, kissing down your collarbone and tracing to your lower abdomen, hands snaked below your thighs as her gaze fixed on yours from below. You heard the subtle echo of your heartbeat thudding in the clearing as Mizu halted her movements for a second, seemingly having a thought interrupt her sensual touches along your body.

“Love..? Is something-“

“Hold on. I have something.” She interjected, reaching down into the discarded pile of clothing to scramble for a small—or rather large, rectangular box, fitted perfectly into her grasp as she lifted open the lid carefully. Breath hitching at the sight, your eyes flickered over to the phallic object firmly curled between her fingers, the length a nasty contrast to her earlier gentle kisses. You blinked in surprise at the fact that Mizu just- had a harigata on her, opening your mouth yet quickly snapping it shut as you didn’t exactly wanna question why she was carrying it around so casually.

You only responded to the sight with your heart throbbing in rapid beats, along in tandem with feeling a different kind of tingling fluttering between your thighs as you squeezed them shut upon seeing Mizu fasten the object around her waist.

—

“Fucking hell- you like that don’t you? You enjoy getting filled by a demon?”

Mizu hissed through her grit teeth as her hands squeezed at the flesh of your wrists, keeping them held down against the futon as her hips slammed forward into you to meet her skin against your with every fervent thrust. Your mouth hung open as your body jerked up everytime she bottomed out inside you, tear streaks coating your cheeks like a fashionable look to getting your insides wrecked by your lover.

Every wash of pleasure surged through your body as your walls accommodated to stretch out in response to the girth of her cock, clenching the velvety insides of your cunt to trap her inside, only to be met with her sliding the harigata out to drive back into you once more with a monstrous force. Eyes rolling back in bliss, you dragged your lower lip between your teeth in response to the rush of your blood igniting your body on fire, nails digging into Mizu’s back in response to the drag of her cock along your insides.

It was difficult to handle her rough movements ridging within the vice of your pussy, the tip of her faux cock circling that one spot inside you to drive you utterly insane. You were mad with lust as you clawed at Mizu for more whenever she paused, rolling your hips up with an aching need as a sinful ring of your slick, moist against the toy bounced off the walls of the room, only driving your girlfriend to drill you into the futon with a heightened arousal clouding her eyes.

Strings of incoherent cries and moans fell from your lips in a series of pathetic whimpers, wanton pants heaving your chest up and down as her cock lodged within you comfortably. Mizu grinded skin to skin with heightened desperation, using her strength to hold you down and reach that one spot that made you sob in ecstasy as she wrung you dry.

Her muscles tightened as her thrusts grew more rapid, face contorting in pleasure further on as if she was lost in it. She stared down at you as she fucked your into the futon harshly, grip tightening around your wrists and pushing you further without regard for anything but making you squirt all over the harigata. Strangely enough, her eyes shone with that same glint she harbored whenever she lusted for blood, brows furrowing as her pupils seemed transcendent and full hate, yet loving and burrowed in your pleasure.

“Say that you love it. Or are you so fucked out you can’t even let out a pathetic whimper?”

She gasped out a breathy laugh in response to your sobs, only jamming her hips further into you in a seemingly enraged manner.

“Oh? You can’t even talk? Such a shame. Here I thought you had a problem with demons bastards like me?”

She leaned her face in nose length with yours, meeting eye to eye with you as she continued rolling her hips harshly against yours.

“Say it. Say you’re sorry.”

Her girthy cock sunk into you at the command, only earning a cry ripped from your lips while you stared at the perverse sight of the dildo sheathing in and out of you sloppily, her hand moving to grasp your cheeks together and elicit a sharp cry. Mizu’s relentless thrusts spun your mind in a haze of euphoria, making you sputter out an apology despite being fucked into the mattress roughly without stopping for even a split second.

“I’m- m- mmh-!”

She rolled her eyes at the pitiful attempt, squeezing your face to look at her while she plowed into you with each powerful thrust nearly knocking the wind out of you.

“M’sorry! I’m sorry Mizu! I won’t ever- ah-! I won’t ever say that again please!”

You whined out, a smile crossing the woman’s features as she touched her forehead to yours, her thrusts keeping the same pace yet seeming far more controlled and gentle now. Mizu sighed against the crook of your neck, delicately peppering your skin to juxtapose her previously harsh and fervent movements against your poor, abused cunt. Her thumb darted down to circle your already swollen clit, hesitating momentarily before massaging the puffy bundle of nerves along with the gentle flurry of kisses along your collarbone.

It didn’t take long before Mizu’s hips plunged deep within you, her cock making one final movement before your juices ran down the dildo to dampen the futon, staining it in a darker color pooled between your trembling thighs. Unfasting the strap, she carefully withdrew herself from your pussy, setting aside the harigata as she pressed up to your limp body in an affectionate hold. Arms encompassing your heaving body, pressing kisses to the shell of your ear in acknowledgment that you did in fact do well for her, Mizu showered you with every action she could to possibly make you feel loved.

After your breathing subsided, Mizu thoughtfully rested her chin against your shoulder, humming to herself in satisfaction as you let out a shaky exhale.

“(Name)?”

“Mhm..?”

“I know we’re just putting on the whole husband and wife thing as an act but when we can…when I kill the remaining three..”

You tilted your head up, being met with a gentle kiss encompassing your body in a scorching flare of passion as she hemmed her arms around you tightly, like a promise to never let go.

“Marry me. Be my wife when everything is over. We can live away from everything. I’ll give you whatever you need- no..whatever you want.”

You were too spent to respond.

So with a smile, you manged a tender nod.

A/N: okay yall may like this but ima be fully honest…

I FUCKING HATE HOW THIS TURNED OUT SO MUCH ITS SO BAD.

IT DOESNT GIVE THE SAME VIBE AS MY USUAL MIZU FICS WHY DID I WRITE IT SO BAD FORGIVE ME

anyway my next mizu fic will actually be good trust sorry for making this ass anon 💔

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wiptw · 9 months ago

Text

Pokémon Stadium Series

Nintendo 64 - Nintendo - 2000 to 2001

You as a Pokémon fan are absolutely fucking spoiled these days. Aside from the mainline games you have spinoffs and fangames offering different experiences, you have entire websites dedicated to documenting everything down to the internal maths of the series, there's no end to the free content you can access with an internet connection between emulators and battle sites like 'Showdown!', and it's now socially acceptable in most circles to be older than 13 and have something with Pikachu's face plastered on it (especially if you're female presenting, especially if your friend group is also infected with the Pokémon hype). Back in my day™ you had almost none of this. You had the anime on Saturday mornings, you had the early run Pokémon licensed merch which WOULD get you called a baby if you continued buying past 10-12, and you had the games. Those sweet, sweet games that indoctrinated a generation of young people into being gamers and awoke a horde of JRPG addicts.

Literally Me

So remember this when I tell you that Pokémon Stadium, both one and two, aren't great games because they do something back then that you can't get today; they're great for what they did back then. So Pokemon Stadium 1&2 were a duology of games from 2000 and 2001 respectively that allowed players to battle Pokemon in 3D, with the addition of some side content such as minigames included to prevent the game from being 100% Pokemon battles. Because otherwise, the game is in fact navigating a series of menus and completing Pokémon battles with 3D models.

Whether it's taking on the gym gauntlets, the marathon of battles in the Pokémon cups, or just free battles with friends and loved ones, 98% of the experience is either selecting Pokémon from a roster of pre-built 'rentals' or transferring them from a saved game using the Transfer Pak, then fighting them in a series of 3D environments. An experience which you can definitely do today using web apps but as I said earlier, we didn't have that.

The peak of Pokémon battles in 2000

So if you're buying Pokémon Stadium (either version really) you're already probably a Pokémon fan right? So that means you have Red/Blue/Yellow/Gold/Silver/Crystal, so why not just play that game and get the full experience? The fun of exploring, talking to NPCs, discovering new and exotic locations? Simple, because in those games battles looked like this

While in Stadium, battles looked like this

If you grew up watching the anime while playing the Gameboy games, there was this special kind of dissonance where you might find yourself saying "Yeah, (for the time) these graphics are RADICAL but I wish I had something closer to these cool Pokémon Battles they had in the anime." As you hide under the covers with your Gameboy Color worm light, nestled in your Ash Ketchum pajamas while you attempt for the 100th time to capture a ditto. Pokémon Stadium was the answer to this dissonance, providing you with vibrant 3D graphics unlike anything you'd ever seen before; bringing Pokémon to life in a way that would be unmatched until Colosseum came out during the Gamecube era.

So, to actual mechanics, you play both games pretty similarly; by building a team of Pokémon (either on your handheld or by using the rental mons the game provides) and take part in a series of battles to become the ultimate battle master. To use your own Pokémon, you'd need to use the aforementioned 'Transfer Pak' to plug in a copy of Red/Blue/Yellow (for 1) or Gold/Silver/Crystal (for 2) with a game saved to the cartridge; otherwise the rental Pokémon covered all released Pokémon (except for some hidden ones) allowing you to build your dream team, sans a few caveats here and there.

Evolved Pokémon have better stats but worse moves, while weaker Pokémon tend to have better moves to compensate

In terms of WHERE you can battle, there's two choices: Either in the Gym Leader Castle, or the Tournaments held in the center of the map on either game. Either way, the game will then have you battle through a series of 3v3 matches versus a set number of trainers who will also select 3 random mons from their full team of six.

A bit bare bones, but there's some spice to how things are run. For one, the rental system was a huge thing for us younger players back in the day. Even if you had the games some Pokémon were hard to catch, had evolution requirements some players couldn't complete (like the trade-mons), or were locked to a version you didn't have. The rental mons give you a list of every Pokémon (some exceptions, but not many) and then lets you build your dream team. Sure, you can't set their moves, EVs, IVs, and it's the era before abilities and natures but I CAN HAVE A MEOWTH/PERSIAN ON MY TEAM. Do you know what I had to do as a child to have this Pokémon outside of Stadium? I had to find someone in the American South who also enjoyed Pokémon, hoped they had Blue instead of Red, hoped they had a link cable, then get them to agree to a trade despite both of us being children (and therefore, objectively terrible) which likely meant giving away a rare Pokémon in exchange for what amounted to common garbage in their game because it was Version fucking Exclusivity™ and everyone seemed to know that meant you'd do anything to get that one fucking Pokémon you wanted.

In the handheld games, if you wanted to build your dream team then likely you'd have to put in some more effort than other games of the time would've required of you. With Stadium, your dreams come true, and if you already have that dream team you can just import them to fight in glorious 3D. Circumventing the fact that rental Pokémon are kinda terrible overall.

Don't feel like building? The challenge cup mode that gives you randomized team comps that has it's own charm (for masochists)

Not to say all of them were bad but construct a normal distribution of 'Good' to 'Bad' picks then that graph is gonna skew left so hard you'd be forgiven for thinking it was just a straight line. To keep every choice 'viable' Pokémon rentals were balanced around stats and moves. More powerful evolved Pokémon and Pokémon with high Base Stat Totals (BST) were given weaker moves and first form and low BST Pokémon were given generally better moves. Charizard might have better stats than Charmeleon and Charmander but his only fire type move is going to be something like Fire Spin. Conversely, Charmander might have Fire Blast but his stats are gonna make him an easy target for the computer's pokemon, which are not bound to the same builds as the rental mons you're using.

Once your team is assembled, then you're off to battle trainer after trainer after trainer with beautifully scored (for the Nintendo 64) soundtracks giving you an unearned sense of importance every step of the way. Battles themselves are conducted with a weird, but functional control layout where A and B access sub menus you then check with the R button before finalizing with the c-buttons, which on original hardware or a USB N64 controller is fine but on emulation with a more modern controller like Logitech, can be a little nerve wracking as you worry about whether your 'up' input on the control stick was up enough for the game or if you accidentally drifted right or left using an unintended move.

fun fact: the name of imported Pokémon affects their coloration in Stadium

Battles are also largely regulated by (at the time) tournament standard rules. Little and Pokecup have level restrictions, and all three non-random cups include clauses for sleep, held items, and repeat Pokémon. Additionally, in any cup if you win the round with all 3 Pokémon still in tact, you're granted a continue; meaning you can retry the battle if you lose. Additionally, there is no 'draw' outcome in these games. Use a move like Explosion or Selfdestruct and the game will register it as your loss on your final Pokémon, regardless of whether you took down the opposing fighter with you or not.

You'll be doing a LOT of back-to-back fights here against trainers with varied team comps, but even with over 246 Pokémon in the available potential lineup you'll get tired fast of fighting. This is, however, slightly mitigated by the 3v3 nature of the matches but even so be ready to here the same Pokémon noises, watch the same effects play out, and wait for the same health bars to tick down over and over as you claw your way to the spot of Pokémon Master.

The art style of non-battle scenes like the main map and minigame plaza have that nice, 90's charm to them as well.

If you do get tired of battling it out, then Stadium 1 and 2 both offer minigames for players to partake in. Either in a tournament format or by using the free-play browser, players are able to take part in a multitude of different Mario Party-esque (without the hand burning) minigames featuring the Pokémon as stars. Minigames consist of stick twirling, button mashing, and point collecting all while controlling fan favorite Pokémon such as Togepi, Eevee, Scyther, and Pichu with no real rhyme or reason behind why these game exist aside from a amusement park theming the minigame zones have for their icons and menus.

You won't get a real explanation as to why you're racing Donphans, cutting logs as Scythers and Pinsirs, or playing Simon Says with a bunch of Clefairy, but you don't really need that either. The games are fun, the models are charming, and watching Clefairy get smacked in the head for each wrong input brings me a level of joy I should probably talk about with my therapist. You won't likely spend hours in this mode, but it's a nice breather from the onslaught of battles otherwise.

fun fact: I still won't talk to some people because of the outcomes to Rampage Rollout over two decades ago. You know who you are.

Additionally there's a quiz minigame separate from the main selection of minigames with easy/normal/hard difficulty selections. Players compete to see who can be the first to get a number of questions correct before anyone else based on facts about the Pokémon (typing, size, silhouette, etc) or facts about the game (where you can find things in the game, names of routes and towns, names of figures in the game).

It's not the most challenging on easy or normal, but playing on hard the game will try to screw you with trick questions so playing with others becomes a balance of "do I let the question play out, or attempt to steal it before someone else can answer correctly?"

Sometimes even playing the game won't prepare you for how out of pocket the questions can get

The real advantage of 2 over 1 is that, in addition to minigames, the game has the trainer academy; a kind of in-depth battle tutorial to teach players not only the basics of Pokémon fighting, but also some secrets as well

You can learn about held items, a feature new to the second generation, as well as participate in mock battles to demonstrate the materials you've been reading and quizzed on. Some of this information for the time too was obscure or hidden knowledge, like the fact that using Defense Curl before using Rollout would boost the damage significantly or that using Stomp on an opponent who used minimize would double the damage.

Some type matchups just make sense, like Ground v Electric.

Overall though what really makes this game is the presentation. The soundtrack does a great job selling the feeling Nintendo wants you to experience, climbing the ladder in a tournament or the Gym Leaders Castle makes you feel powerful, and the little details on top of it all just tie it together in a nice package.

The fights, for example, are also narrated by "The Announcer". A bombastic voice shouting over every detail of a fight. When you score a crit, when you apply a status effect, even using certain moves will get the announcer loudly narrating each detail like a Pokémon prize fight. Seeing the ground rip apart when you use Earthquake is only half the charm, the other half comes from that man yelling in your ears "A DEVESTATING EARTHQUAKE ATTACK!". Clearing gyms or clearing opponents in one of the cups grants you gym badges, a dream for any child growing up on the handheld classics or watching the anime who wished they too could earn shiny bits of metal that gave them an inflated sense of importance.

I would literally kill everyone I came across if it'd get me a real life Zephyr Badge.

Stadium 1 and 2 aren't evergreen classics. They're stuck in Gens 1 and 2 respectively, the roster of Pokémon while impressive is largely useless and makes collecting trophies way harder than it has to be, and the games were made before things like abilities and double battles were introduced, leading to the Pokémon battling game missing out on the generation of Pokémon that made battling more fun (Revolution doesn't count, Revolution is dead to me and disappoints me more than I disappoint myself.)

But for the time especially, it gave fans an opportunity to experience a form of Pokémon more advanced than what the handhelds could output. It was a window into a world of potential that wouldn't be truly fulfilled until arguably the 3DS era of Pokémon released, and gave fans a fun little romp handcrafted for them at every twist and turn. Whether you were a gamer or you enjoyed the anime, there was something here for you.

Overall: 7/10 Sound: 8/10 (for the time) Graphics: 9/10 (for the time) Memorable Moments: Stadium 1: Hearing about Mewtwo, thinking he was an urban legend, then finding out he wasn't Stadium 2: Finally beating the elite 4 using only rental mons.

#wiptw #video games #gaming #pokemon #pokemon stadium #pokemon stadium 2 #pkmn #review #7/10 #Nintendo #nintendo 64 #n64 #retro #retro gaming

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kirain · 3 months ago

Text

Part three of my appreciation project.

@vonspe A fic based on their wonderful art piece here. Thank you for feeding the fandom!

The apothecary was a sanctuary of green and gold, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. Wooden shelves lined the walls, stuffed with tinctures, bundles of dried herbs, and neatly labelled vials of elixirs; some deadly, some curative. At the far end of the room, a miniature garden flourished—a medley of potted elfroot, spindleweed, and other rare plants that Scipio and Emmrich had nurtured together, their leaves bright and fragrant.

Amidst it all, Grandma lay curled on the stone slab in the middle of the room, her sleek grey fur catching the light. She dozed on the cool surface, her tail tucked over her nose, the only sign of wakefulness the occasional twitch of her ears—before they perked up like daggers.

Footsteps, hurried and heavy, thundered from the hall outside, drawing her gaze. The stomp of boots grew louder—closer—until the door burst open, smashing against the wall so hard it nearly splintered. Startled, the cat dove under a nearby chair, her eyes wide and beaming as Emmrich stumbled inside, half-carrying, half-dragging Scipio across the floor.

The elf's weight sagged against him, his hand pointlessly clutching his side. Blood soaked through his gloves, hot and slick, leaking through his fingers. His right eye, bruised and bloodshot, was swollen shut, slashed from eyebrow to forehead, the blue of his iris fading.

"Nearly there!" Emmrich yelled, to himself as much as his lover. "Hold on, darling!"

Grandma mewled from her hiding spot, ears pinned back as she took in the sight of her owner—pale, barely conscious, barely breathing. Her nose twitched at the metallic tang trailing behind them.

Stowing his own fear, Emmrich tightened his grip around Scipio's waist and hoisted him onto the large slab Grandma had abandoned. "That's it, darling. Lift your legs," he begged, though Scipio didn't respond.

His body was too limp. Too cold.

Emmrich gritted his teeth, wishing someone—anyone—had been awake to help him, but time was precious. He couldn't stop nor leave Scipio alone when he was bleeding so profusely. It had taken everything just to get him back to the eluvian after the attack.

"Just a little higher, darling. You can do it."

Emmrich's heart clenched as he perished the thought, unwilling to rive his focus.

One moment, they were sat by a crystal lake, lost in each other's company, sharing a rich wine in the moonlight. The next, the Venatori descended—a horde of them, tearing through the quiet and shattering their peace in an instant.

Yet, Emmrich managed.

With urgent but careful hands, he eased Scipio onto his back, as gently as possible. The elf groaned as his body sprawled out over the marble, the sound raw with pain. Then, his head lolled to the side.

"Stay with me!" Emmrich shrieked, but the younger man had already slipped away.

Silence.

With a frantic gasp, Emmrich ripped the soaked fabric of Scipio's shirt to expose the gaping wound beneath—a deep, ugly gash along his ribs, still oozing like a freshly sliced ham. The blood pooled in the cracks beneath him, dark and glistening against the stone.

He'd been run through almost entirely.

"I won't let you die," Emmrich vowed, his voice welling with determination.

He knew the risk, but he placed his hand over the wound without any hesitation.

Swiftly, a massive green light flared from his palm, tendrils of magic sinking into the torn flesh. The wound drank greedily, knitting together like strands of rope, but the spell pulled just as greedily from him in return. The room blurred. His breath hitched. Sweat sheened along his brow, the process demanding more than he could give.

But stopping wasn't an option. Not when Scipio's life dangled at the edge of the Veil.

When the spell finally broke, when he truly had nothing left to offer, the ailing mage nearly collapsed, his head swimming, his legs trembling beneath him—but again, he couldn't stop. The wound was still there, still pulsing, still angry, just no longer fatal. Ribs no longer broken. Organs no longer punctured. He had been lucky.

They had been lucky.

Now fighting to breathe, panting terribly, Emmrich pushed himself upright and staggered to the garden, reaching for a meaty stalk of elfroot. As he snapped the stem, letting the thick, sticky sap gush from the tear, he slammed his fist against the wall, the mild pain anchoring him in the moment. He was dizzy, deteriorating fast, but he made it back to Scipio and squeezed the fluid into his wound.

"Ugh..." the elf sobbed, his body flinching from the sting.

"I know, love. I know," Emmrich wheezed. "I'm sorry."

His hands tingled, his muscles ached, but still he couldn't rest. Driven by his last dregs of adrenaline, he retrieved a kit from his desk, pulling out a needle, thread, and a roll of linen. As he sterilised the needle, an inescapable guilt took hold, churning in his already feeble stomach.

"I'll be quick, darling. I promise."

The needle bit into Scipio's tender skin, piercing over and over, the thread weaving through the ragged edges of his flesh. Despite Emmrich's precision and diligence, the poor elf wailed, his body writhing with each pull, every stitch an agony for both of them.

Until only one step remained.

Though shaking with exhaustion, Emmrich achieved the impossible: wrapping Scipio's torso with the roll of bandages. Tilting him cautiously, he bore his weight with one arm while tending to his wound with the other, each motion a trial of endurance. Moving in any way had become excruciating, his body screaming for even the briefest respite. Yet, he overcame it.

He had to, for Scipio.

Then, as if fate had been waiting, right as the last knot scrunched taut, his strength drained completely.

The world spun, his limbs leaden. He barely made it to the chair before collapsing, his chest heaving, his head dropping back against the rail. He had used too much magic, spent too much of himself. He should have paced it—he knew that—but the thought of losing Scipio was unbearable.

A small whimper chimed beneath him, and Grandma crawled out from under his legs, peering up at him with a tentative sniff. As if sensing his distress, she hopped into his lap and rubbed her head against his waistcoat.

"Good girl," Emmrich lisped, his voice faint. "Good..."

A single breath.

Then another.

His vision darkened.

And then—nothing.

-----

Scipio woke to the sharp intrusion of sunlight and the slow, insistent throb in his side—sore but bearable. His lashes fluttered as he adjusted to the brightness, his breath catching at the familiar sight above him; sheaves of herbs hanging from the ceiling. He knew this place.

The apothecary.

"Emmrich?" he winced, his voice frail.

Memory hit like a tide. The ambush. The Venatori. Emmrich's horrified gaze when the blade thrust into his body.

He had no recollection after that.

"Mi amore, where are y—?"

As Scipio turned his head, he found him. Emmrich. Slumped in a chair beside him, motionless as the grave. Grandma purred in his lap, happy and healthy, but Emmrich looked awful. His coat was gone, his shirt disheveled, and his hair, normally slicked back and flawless, was a loose mess against his forehead. Even in sleep, weariness haunted his features, his body slack with exhaustion.

A fresh wave of guilt tugged at Scipio's heart, pressing down on him like a curse. He recognised the telltale signs—the stiffness in Emmrich's limbs, the flush colour of his face. He had drained himself healing him. Again.

Scipio tried to speak, to call his name once more, but before the words could form, a soft rasp broke the silence, followed by a warm, wet graze on his cheek.

At some point, while trapped in his rueful stupor, Grandma had nestled beside his head, her rough little tongue flicking up and down, cleaning her owner's sweat. A quiet chuckle rumbled in Scipio's throat, the gesture a fleeting balm to his guilt.

"Were you worried about me, cara?" His fingers found their way to the soft spot behind her ear, coaxing a pleased trill from her chest. "Yet you spent the whole night with Emmrich. Traitor."

The cat gave him an unimpressed meow before leaping down, her tiny paws padding against the floor as she skittered away.

Scipio snickered, then braced himself as he forced his body upright, grunting hoarsely. The wound at his side protested, though less painful and more a vexing reminder of how close he had come to losing everything.

His gaze softened as it returned to Emmrich. He'd been in that chair for hours, his neck awkwardly angled, his hands hanging over the armrests; the leather pressing into his wrists. It couldn't be comfortable, and Scipio knew that feeling all too well. He didn't want to wake him, but he couldn't leave him in that harmful position.

With quiet reverence, he reached out, resting his hand on Emmrich's cheek—an unspoken apology. And as if sensing that single touch from the depths of his subconscious, Emmrich's eyes snapped open, wild with alarm. The moment they landed on Scipio, he shot up, taking the younger man's face in his numb, ice-cold hands.

"Darling!" he cried, ignoring the twinge in his joints. "You... you shouldn't be up," he muttered, his voice wracked with concern. "You should be resting."

"So should you," Scipio replied smoothly. Emmrich paused, and the elf smirked at the hesitation. "I could take you to bed, if you like."

Emmrich's brow furrowed, relieved but irritated. "I'm perfectly serious. You have no idea how close you came to—!"

His eyes widened, his gaze landing on Scipio's bloodshot eye, the bruise, the scrape on his forehead. He'd passed out before he had a chance to heal those injuries.

A mistake he intended to rectify.

"Oh, darling. Hold still," he said, his gloved hand moving to cup the elf's chin. "How did I miss this? It must be bothering you."

"Emmrich, you need time to recover," Scipio argued, but the mage shook his head.

"I'm well enough for this."

Slowly, his fingers traced over the battered skin, the warmth of his magic seeping into the damaged tissue. Before long, that familiar green light shined beneath his touch, mending the torn vessels with a care so intimate, it made Scipio shudder.

The spell was thorough, but Emmrich’s fingers lingered just a little longer than necessary, as if memorising every healed inch before pulling away.

"There," he whispered. "How does that feel?"

Scipio blinked, the blur he'd been too proud to complain about now an echo of the past. "Thank you," he smiled. "That eye's been through enough horse shit, don't you think?"

Emmrich chuckled, his eyes fixed on the dilated pupil he'd always considered beautiful. But as his gaze drifted downwards, to the bandages wrapped snug around Scipio's chest, something inside him cracked, and a small whimper escaped his lips before he could swallow it.

"Amore?" Scipio hushed, grasping his hand. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Emmrich looked away, their fingers lacing together. It took him a while to answer, seemingly ashamed to speak, but Scipio was patient. Not demanding, but compelling.

"I nearly lost you," he eventually choked, his voice tight.

Scipio frowned, but only for a moment. "Impossible," he quipped. "No Venatori could ever kill me."

Emmrich scoffed, both exasperated and amused. "Your arrogance will be the death of you someday."

"But I'm fine!" Scipio shouted, slapping his side. "See? It doesn't even hurt."

Emmrich's shoulders hunched, his expression nettled. "Your wound is on the right side, darling."

Scipio tilted his head, playfully. "Is it?"

"Did you think I wouldn't notice? Really?"

"All right, I'll prove it to you."

He shifted to rise, but as he did so, Emmrich's hands immediately shot out, pinning him to the slab. "Stop. You're not going anywhere."

"Why not?" he asked, as if it wasn't blatantly obvious.

Emmrich groaned. He knew Scipio hated feeling useless, his mind and body restless when he wasn't working or fighting, but now wasn't the time for his stubbornness. He needed an excuse, and he settled on, "Because your sisters would kill me!"

A beat of silence. Then, Scipio threw his head back with a hardy laugh, the tinge in his side not enough to dampen his spirit.

"Fair enough," he conceded.

Emmrich smiled, but the worry hadn't fully waned, and Scipio could see it.

"Forgive me, mi amore. You must have been so scared."

"No, no. It's not your fault. Those damn Venatori..."

Scipio pulled Emmrich closer, bringing his hand to his chest. "I'm here, mi amore. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Are you really all right?" Emmrich asked, uncertain.

"I am," Scipio sighed, his eyes gleaming with adoration. "Thanks to you."

"Darling..."

Riled by the praise, emotion swelled in Emmrich's chest, too overwhelming to resist. He needed to feel him, to prove that Scipio was still with him—still alive, still breathing. Suddenly, he leaned in, one hand cradling the back of Scipio's head, the other sliding possessively over his thigh.

"What is it?" Scipio asked, confused. "Is it my eye? I don't feel any—"

His words dissolved into a muffled moan as Emmrich captured his lips, grateful and longing. The kiss was searing, fervent—a desperate reclaiming of the night they'd lost—and Scipio melted into it. His fingers curled into Emmrich's shirt, yanking him closer, deepening the embrace with equal fervour.

As Scipio invited him in, their tongues met, tentative at first, then with more passion. They kissed like they had all the time in the world, indulgent and unrelenting, their movements fluid and seamless. This was familiar.

This was home.

When Emmrich pulled away, it was only because he spotted a thin cut under Scipio's jaw—a harmless nick hidden from view. With a lustful grin, he dipped closer, pressing his lips to the dried blood. As before, a green light flared around them as the cut vanished beneath his kiss, the warm breeze threading through Scipio's hair.

And he didn't stop there.

The elf gasped as Emmrich's mouth travelled lower, brushing along his neck—then lower still, kissing and nipping at the dips and hollows of his collarbone—then lower still, down to his exposed chest, his tongue exploring the crease between his ribs. He avoided the bandages, mindful of Scipio's wound, his free hand delicately kneading every unharmed muscle.

"Amore..." Scipio huffed, arching back ever so slightly

"More?" Emmrich murmured against his skin.

"Always."

Emmrich obliged, his other hand rubbing the inside of Scipio's thigh; a slow, deliberate stroke meant to unravel him—and it did. As the elf relaxed, Emmrich stepped between his legs, their heat mingling as his lips trailed back up to devour his mouth once more. Hungry, but eloquent.

When they parted, Scipio's breath frayed, his face burning, but his grin was nothing short of wicked. "I think I need a full-body examination," he said boldly.

"Oh?" Emmrich smirked. "That can be arranged, my dear."

As he climbed onto the slab, helping Scipio straddle his hips, a small chirp sounded from across the room. Grandma sat near the window, her tail flicking, her blue eyes heavy with unmistakable judgment. With a hiss, she turned and leapt over the sill, disappearing into the trees below.

"Even your cat is tired of your antics," Emmrich chuckled.

Scipio laughed, bending down for another kiss. "Then it's a good thing you never tire of them."

"Just don't overexert yourself," Emmrich warned, his fingers skimming over the bandages. "You're still hurt."

"I could say the same to you. I can tell you're still very weak."

"Then I guess we'll both have to be gentle with each other," Emmrich teased.

Scipio grinned, his lips brushing against Emmrich's ear. "Vedremo."

#emmrich volkarin #emmrich #emmrook #emmrich x rook #dragon age the veilguard #veilguard #da: the veilguard #dragon age #crow rook #fan fiction #gay

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