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fandom-puff · 4 years ago

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Teach Me Tiger- Tywin Lannister

Warnings: political/arranged marriage, smut, loss of virginity, sketchy medieval sex Ed (ie, reader thinks the only purpose of sex is procreation), masturbation/guided masturbation, older man/younger woman

This is inspired a little by my Tywin Lannister marriage HCs a did a few weeks ago :). Also soz it took so long I was working on this for quite a while and I DEFINITELY got carried away oops xx

Gif creds to owner

Song creds to owner

Teach me Tiger how to kiss you

Show me Tiger how to kiss you

The heavy velvet draped over your shoulders, in Lannister red and gold, almost weighing you down as you turned back to the septon, not daring to look up at the old lion you now called husband. Barely processing the words of the septon, you stood stock still, until it was time for you to turn to Tywin, tip your chin up and receive his kiss. It was a chaste, barely there kiss, done out of duty rather than love. Of course there wasn’t any love behind it; this marriage was done only out of duty, duty to Casterly Rock, which needed a suitable heir without a tarnished reputation for incest and whoreing, duty to your house, which desperately needed Lannister gold and men. Nevertheless, the ghost of a kiss still left you a little breathless and dizzy, and you couldn’t help but think of the bedding ceremony later on that night.

Take my lips, they belong to you

“We do not have to consummate the marriage right this instant,”

You looked over your shoulder, lip drawn into you mouth nervously. “But-”

“You’re young, inexperienced. And you’ve been tense with nerves since you walked into the sept. Come. Sit. We’ll have some wine. Talk, if you’d like,” Tywin gestured to a simple couch, big enough for the two of you to sit without being too close.

Still worrying your lip between your teeth, you perched on the edge, accepting your Lord husband’s offer of a goblet of wine. “I- I thought... my purpose was to give you an heir, my Lord,” you murmured, staring at the dark red liquid in the cup.

Tywin sighed and sat down, leaving just over a foot between you, nursing his own goblet. “It is. Eventually,” he said. “When you are ready. I would not force myself on you,”

“But the king said-”

“Never mind what the king said. My grandson has no say in what happens in my- our marriage chamber,”

A little more relaxed, you braved a look up at your husband, admiring his chiselled jaw, his blonde hair streaked with white, before quickly draining your goblet, feeling a little more relaxed as you stood to set it down. Tywin watched with fascination as you put your cup back on the tray, eyes fixed on you as you came to sit back down- he was very much aware of the fact that you sat a little closer to him. Happy to go off your lead, he continued to nurse his drink, eyes occasionally flicking to you as you shuffled a little closer. He tensed briefly as you leaned into him, before relaxing slowly.

“I-I’d like you to kiss me, please,” you murmured, your soft voice barely reaching his ears. Tywin arched his brows, locking eyes with you, silently asking if you were sure.

You nodded your head, tipping your chin up the same way you had done in the Sept.

But teach me first, teach me what to do

Tywin gave you another chaste kiss that had your tummy fluttering, and you found yourself leaning further forward as he was pulling away. A low laugh rumbled in his chest. “Easy now,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, looking away, cheeks heating with embarrassment.

“For what?” Tywin asked, standing up and offering you his hand.

“For... being inexperienced, I suppose. I doubt I’m the most exciting bedfellow you’ve ever had,” you rubbed your arm, self conscious. Despite the heat of kings landing, you felt a soft chill skitter over your flesh. “I don’t... know...” you looked at the floor, suddenly very interested in the grain of the wood.

“You’re a maid, I take it?” When you nodded quickly, Tywin held up his hand. “It matters not to me. Not in that way. But I presume you’ve never known a man? I presume you’ve never... known yourself?” He added in an undertone, and you let out a little gasp, shaking your head.

“Will you...” you gulped, looking up at him, seeing his pupils slowly expand. “Teach me? To know...”

“Teach you to know me, or yourself?”

You straightened your back, chest raising and falling with each breath. “Both,”

Touch me Tiger when I'm close to you

The small sitting area, with its couch, desk, bookshelves and table, was most certainly not the place for the consummation of your marriage. Tywin led you through a small passageway and a door to his sleeping chambers. Instantly, your eyes made contact with the bed, already turned down, pillows plumped. Clearing his throat, Tywin directed your attention back to him. “Help me with these buttons. They are much too fiddly,” he said, gesturing to his doublet. You smiled softly, happy to carry out the simple task to put your nerves at ease, knowing full well that Tywin could undo his own buttons. “Shall I undo your braids?” He asked as you folded the expensive scarlet fabric, leaving him in his linen shirt and his trousers.

“Yes please,” you murmured. “The hairpins have been stabbing me all day and night,”

Tywin smirked, stepping behind you and towering over you as he began unpinning the intricate braids, letting you unravel them as they fell to your shoulders. “We can’t have that,” he said and you smiled, running your fingers through your hair. When the final braid was loosened and unraveled, you couldn’t help but lean back into Tywin, sighing softly as his hands came to rub the tension out of your shoulders. Eyes fluttering shut, you tipped your head back to rest it against his shoulder, exposing your throat and allowing him to undo your necklace and cast it aside as your apprehension melted away. Slowly, Tywin’s elegant hands moved from your shoulders to smooth over your waist, making you gasp as his fingers kneaded the flesh there.

“My Lord-”

“Tywin,” he whispered into your ear, relishing in your little shudder.

“Tywin...” you sighed. “Please... the dress...”

“Off?” He asked, just to be sure, not wanting to rush you. With your eager nod, he made a noise of content, stepping back a little to access the lacing of your dress, slowly unthreading it, allowing the delicate fabric to flutter to the ground, leaving you in your chemise and stockings and bodice. You kicked off your shoes, dropping a few inches in height as you began fumbling with the fiddly laces of your bodice. His eyes were firmly on you as you began the painstaking process of unlacing your bodice, and you did not miss the way his tongue darted out to moisten his lips as your nimble fingers worked the end of the lace through the many holes. When the structured garment finally fell to the ground with a dull thud, you looked back up to him, resisting the urge to cross your arms over your chest- the thin chemise you wore as a buffer between your corset and your skin was sheer enough that you were sure he could see your tightening nipples through it.

Tywin flicked his eyes over your form briefly, before approaching you slowly. You were fully aware that he still had his boots and trousers on, though now that his doublet was off, you could see the tightness in them. Arching his brow in amusement, he asked “would you like me to undress?”

Chewing your lip, you nodded, sitting on the foot of his bed as you watched him take off his shirt. You gulped, eyeing up his chest shamelessly; you were surprised at how... well he looked, especially at his age, your eyes lingering on his sinewy yet strong form. Snapping out of your little trance, you looked to the floor, face flooding with heat as Tywin smirked at you. “You can look, you know. I am your husband after all,”

You let out a nervous laugh at his remark, though as he kicked off his boots and began to unlace his trousers, you couldn’t unlock your eyes from his stare, drawing your lip into your mouth as his trousers dropped to the floor. “S-should we... get into bed?” You murmured.

“We shall. But I will say this now, YN, if you do not want to be intimate tonight, I can wait until you’re ready. We could just lay and talk, or you could sleep,”

You smiled slightly. Tywin was surprising you more and more; at the wedding feast you had heard bawdy remarks that the head of house Lannister would simply have his wicked way with you and then bundle you off to Casterly Rock whether you liked it or not. It seemed he would do nothing of the sort. “I’d like to lay a while,” you murmured. Tywin nodded and gestured for you to make himself comfortable in the grand bed. It was difficult not to, what with the soft pillows and comfortable mattress. Tywin lay by your side, leaving a gap between you both as he had done on the couch, drawing the covers up to cover you both.

Help me Tiger, I don't know what to do

You lay in relative silence for a while, occasionally glancing at one another, making small remarks here and there. Eventually, a streak of boldness bolted through you and you turned on your side, facing Tywin, your chin propped up by your hand.

“you know before...” you began, trying to avoid Tywin’s gaze as he looked at you with amusement. You sighed, changing tack. “You said you would help me to know you,”

“That I did,” he prompted, knowing there was something more to your rambling.

“But... you also said you’d help me... know myself,” Tywin nodded slowly, urging you on. “How?” You finished bluntly.

“I assume you know... the mechanics,” he said vaguely.

“Yes. Well, what my septa taught me,”

“Ah. What your septa failed to tell you was that it can be quite... an enjoyable experience. For both parties. You may feel intense pleasure, that is,”

“But... the purpose is to... make an heir,” you said, frowning slightly.

“And there is more chance of success if you enjoy yourself doing it,”

You bit your lip slightly. “Can you show me?” You asked, voice barely more than a whisper. Tywin looked at you intensely, and instantly, you answered the silent questions that blazed in his eyes. “Please. I’m sure,”

Nodding, Tywin eased you onto your back, proving himself up on his elbow as he hovered over you. “It is very important that you prepare yourself... there are many places in your body that the simplest touch-” still beneath the sheets, he dragged his knuckle over your clothes waist, smirking at your shiver, “-will bring you pleasure. Touch your body, YN, through your chemise,” you nodded slowly, shutting your eyes as you ran your fingertips up, over your thighs, your hips, your waist... then back down. On every other journey, you’d swipe your thumbs over your clothed nipples, gasping and arching your back. Tywin hummed in approval, tipping your chin up so he could press several kisses to your throat. “Very good...” he whispered into your ear, relishing in your pleased shudder. He placed his large hand over one of yours and guided it further south. You gulped, aware of the hot wetness gathering between your thighs. “Now... here...”

You took a breath, hitching your chemise up until it was bunched over your hips. Tywin could not see thanks to the covers, but he could just imagine your wetness, giving the way you had been wriggling your hips. “Spread your legs,” he murmured, feeling his cock twitch in wake of your pretty sighs. “Good,” he praised, and you nodded, biting your lip hard. “Now, touch yourself, between your legs,”

“How will I know if...”

“You will know,” he affirmed and you nodded, beginning to stroke around the general vicinity until-

Your back arched and you let out a shuddery moan. He was right. You definitely knew. Quickly becoming both breathless and speechless, you allowed yourself to succumb to pleasure as your lord husband watched. Gasping for air, you felt yourself climb further and further and further, until you toppled over the peak, aided by a slight pinch to your nipple. Shaking, you stared up at the ceiling, feeling gentle lips pressed against your forehead as you recovered from your high. You felt yourself leaning into him, moaning softly at the dull throb between your legs. When you finally trusted yourself to speak without an embarrassing wobble to your voice, you looked up at your husband, eyes blown wide with desire for the lion. “Please...” you whispered.

I know that you could love me to

But show me first, show me what to do

This is the first love that I have ever known

What must I do to make you my very own?

Tywin nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You knew his tenderness was to calm you down. It wasn’t out of love; how could you love one another? Your marriage had been one of political strategy, and you were well aware that the only love Tywin Lannister ever knew was for his late wife Joanna.

Teach me Tiger how to tease you

But as Tywin manoeuvred himself between your thighs, the candle light casting shadows from his high cheekbones, you felt... something. He was being so gentle with you, so tender, his large hands splaying over your waist and stomach and hips as you tugged your chemise over your head, leaving you completely nude beneath him. You licked your lips quickly, feeling undoubtedly exposed as you were spread out beneath him, thighs parted to cradle him between them. Eyeing the bulge in his linen underwear, you bit your lip, your nerves running through you again, mile a minute.

Sensing your nervousness, Tywin took your hand, guiding it slowly to his prominent bulge. You gasped, feeling the hot, hard flesh through the fabric as you palmed him. Even through the fabric you could tell how well endowed he was. As your hand ran over the ridges of his cock, Tywin let out a suppressed groan. “Clever girl,” he praised softly and you smiled, nibbling your lip.

Eventually, Tywin knocked your hand away, reaching to fish his cock from his underwear. You barely got a look before he was hovering above you, holding one of your thighs apart with one hand, the other guiding his cock over your wet entrance. “This may hurt... only for a moment,” he murmured, and you nodded- your septa had not spared you the details of procreation.

As he eased his cock into your waiting hole, you felt yourself tense up. He was barely in you, yet you felt so full. The fullness was soon accompanied by a slight pain that had you gasping, but pretty soon you were overcome by the sensation of being stretched out. Giving an experimental rock of your hips, you groaned out, the noise guttural and wanton, and your lips were unable to stop it escaping. “Move,” you whispered. “Move, please,” you hooked your legs around his hips for good measure, heels beginning to press into his lower back as he began rocking his hips, pulling almost all the way out before easing back in.

Once he was sure you had adjusted properly, Tywin’s thrusts became a little rougher, shallower, and you could feel his cock drag over the sensitive walls then clenched tightly around it. He knelt up, dragging you further down the mattress as he rutted into you, skin slapping hard against yours as you wriggled, head tipped back to groan and cry out. Your hair was a mess, your lips were swollen, and your noises steadily grew louder and louder despite your attempts muffle them. Tywin did not try to quiet you, relishing in the cries of passion he was able to draw from you. It gave him a sense of pride to know that his wife was in ecstasy, that his wife was taking her pleasure beneath him like she were a common harlot and he a lowly peasant. And most of all, he relished in the fact that you would soon have a belly full of his children, swelling with the continuation of the Lannister dynasty.

Tiger, Tiger I wanna squeeze you

Clutching onto any inch of his skin you could find, your back arched upwards off the bed as your nails dragged down his arms, you came with a lusty, broken cry, your entire being quivering around him as a sensation more intense than your previous orgasm washed over you. Tywin growled, letting out a low shuddering groan as he finished, and you felt the odd, yet erotic, sensation of his seed filling you to the brim.

All of my love I will give to you

Panting, twitching, and letting out soft whimpers, you fell back among the pillows as Tywin moved to your side. “Are you alright?” He asked you, pressing the pads of his thumbs against your cheeks, swiping away your fallen tears. You didn’t even realise you were crying, too distracted by your crashing release. You managed a small nod and a hum of reassurance as you slowly regained the ability to move. Already you felt your thighs aching, your core still throbbing. You could feel a bit of your husband’s seed slipping from your body, trailing lazily between your thighs. The rest, you knew, was deep inside of you. Tywin sat up, tugging the sheets back over you before laying back down beside you. You hummed contentedly as Tywin pulled you into his side, and you could feel his heart still pounding as you both settled into post coital bliss.

“Do you think... it’ll work?” You murmured, already nodding off as the room became dimmer, the candles close to their ends.

“What, that you’ll be with child after tonight?” When you have a slight nod, Tywin chuckled. “Part of me hopes so. As you’re aware, I am in desperate need of a suitable heir,”

“And the other part?” You whispered.

“The other part of me hopes that you don’t fall pregnant just yet...” you picked up on the suggestive edge to his voice, increasingly grateful for the darkening room as your eyes widened.

“If I don’t... if I’m not... then we will try again. Maybe even... recreationally,” you cringed inwardly at your own formality; the man had been balls deep in you only moments ago. “But I will do my best to fulfil my duties as your lady wife,”

“Hmm... and the lady of Casterly rock?” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Casterly rock too. On one condition though,”

But teach me Tiger or I'll teach you

Tywin arched his brows, not used to being given conditions.

“You treat me well. You obey your vows. You don’t treat me like a whore or a thing to fuck and throw away as soon as you’ve got an heir and a spare. You treat me as your lady wife. Protect me, guide me, and at the very least, try to love me. Because that is exactly what I will be doing for you,”

Tags: @sociallyawkward-princess @lazyotakujen

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the-nagakenny-archives · 3 years ago

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I'm shy but I tried writing something hope you like it

One last sip of coffee and two stomps to properly secure his boots, and the Gravity Falls Weirdness Expert was out the door.

It was on a particularly sunny, clear day that found Stanford once again out in the field for a little catch up on his studies. The past week had been uneventful within the confines of his basement, as if the world was allowing him time to compile the numerous foot notes and sketches of his latest findings into a fairly cohesive summary within the first few pages of his second journal. Nights and afternoons were spent humming over words that didn't quite flow, and cross referencing facts he had uncovered with rumors that fell deaf upon all ears but his. Lovely as the quiet had been, seven days was more than enough time to stay cooped up in a research shack when there was plenty more to discover.

Stanford cupped a hand around his ear and listened. A woodpecker pecked away at its hole in a birch, determined for an early breakfast. Not too far from there, a squirrel skittered along branches, hoping for an acorn meal of its own. A gnome tutted at a rainbow puddle, helping its reflection pick at its latest zit.

All sounded normal, the scientist regarded with a deep sigh of disappointment. It was uncommon to not have something completely new to marvel over. Were it not for the gnome, one wouldn't know that they were in Gravity Falls at all. It was all so peaceful and Oregonian. Perhaps the world was still holding its breath over more important things to come. Perhaps it didn't quite realize that Stanford was more than ready to jump back into the weird and the wild.

Four more minutes of strolling and listening, Stanford was just beginning to consider going into town to replenish his supplies when he finally spotted an unusual subject he'd been craving.

A long, long, long snake tail hung from below the branches of a bright red leafed tree. The tip, maroon and tan in color, swung slowly and rhythmically back and forth, like the tick and tock of a pendulum on a grandfather clock. Stanford's wide eyes traveled up the tail to see the colors recede to darker browns in circled patterns as the mass grew thicker the higher his gaze climbed. Whatever was up there, the leaves could only do so much to completely cover it. It had to be massive.

The first, most obvious thought that came to his head was Python, but he quickly dismissed it. Pythons were not native to Oregon, certainly not one of this length at the very least. Except, this was Gravity Falls, where the only acceptable thing was to accept the unacceptable. Even so, a Python, even one as gigantic as this, seemed too...ordinary for the town's infamy. He'd made it this far by thinking outside the box, so what else could possible have a snake tail of this capacity?

It hit him, and he had to choke back a gasp of delight. "A naga! An actual naga!" The whispered excitement seemed especially piercing in the quiet of the early morning, but he was too elated to care. This was exactly what he had been waiting for to break what had started as a monotonous walk in the woods. Patting at his breast pocket for a pen and paper, he wracked his brain for what little he knew about these creatures. From what he remembered, the bottom half was always a snake, while the top half-

"Well, hello."

Stanford yelped and juggled his pen for two seconds before he composed himself enough to acknowledge that he was not alone. Clutching his pen holding hand to his chest to steady his heartbeat, he replied hesitantly, "Hello?"

A deep, throaty chuckle seemed to echo all across the canopy of trees, a pleasant sound, but not very becoming of his nerves. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. You just looked so excited, I got a little curious."

It wasn't hard to put two and two together. "I...should've realized that nagas were intelligent enough to understand human speech." Stanford cleared his throat, the thrill at the thought of another research subject spurring him on. "After all, if I'm getting my facts straight, your top halves are-"

Even if he had hypothesized it, he was not at all prepared for the sight that awaiting him. Slowing winding down from the thick branches was the top half of the naga; human in shape, and far more handsome than he could've imagined. Barrel chested with long chestnut hair, soulful brown eyes twinkling with mischief, and a long nose that only seemed to complete his features all the better. The naga's mouth curled into a playful smirk at Stanford's beguiled expression.

"Impressed? Understandable. Not every day you run into someone like me, am I right?" He twisted his upper half upside down so that his long hair hung down in a wave of brown, barely tickling the grass beneath him.

Stanford regained just enough sense to formulate a response. "Why, er, no, certainly not...hardly ever!" His excitement renewed, he clicked his pen and resumed reaching for some paper. "You must tell me everything about you!" His grin was all teeth.

"Well, first thing's first, how about an introduction?" The naga said with no small amount of amusement. "My name's Kenneth. Call me Kenny."

"Ah, yes, of course." Stanford shook his head and held out a six fingered hand. "Stanford Pines. Resident Researcher of Gravity Falls Phenomena. Pleasure to meet you, Kenny." Much to his delight, the Naga extended the red tip of his tail to shake with. "So fascinating! Your girth alone would take a whole page to describe! But more about that later; I must know all about your culture!" He set his pen to paper, waiting with baited breath and still beaming.

Kenny returned the smile gleefully. "Well, I'm partial to smooth jazz, but I can't say no to samba. Oh, and don't get me started on-" The naga's rambles were cut short by Stanford's throat clearing.

"Um, as stimulating as that is, I was hoping to do my research on your species as a whole."

Kenny quirked an eyebrow. "Gonna need to clear me up on that."

Stanford nodded patiently. "Well, it could be things like, what your diet consists of. Is English the most common language among your kind? Wouldn't a jungle be more befitting for a body such as yours? What natural abilities do you harbor, if any? How did-"

"Ep, ep, ep!" Kenny, to Stanford's slight indignation, placed a finger to his lips, interrupting his little question vomit. "I think it'd be better to answer one at a ti-" The naga's eyes seemed to glint for a moment. "What was that last question?"

Stanford pushed the finger off his lips to answer, "Um, what natural abilities do you harbor?"

The glint returned, and the scientist knew that he'd seen a look like that many times before. Usually it was on his brother as he was hatching one of his harebrained schemes, one that would more than likely leave the two of them grounded, in body casts, or both.

Suddenly wary, Stanford stuttered, "Um, actually, perhaps you could tell me about your diet-"

"No, no, no! This is a question I know I can answer!" Kenny's voice took on a musical lilt, the sound of it somehow easing just a little of Stanford's reluctance. Besides, hadn't he wanted to study more creatures? This was a rare opportunity, and the naga had offered. Stanford could always put out any potential fire with the extinguisher he'd hidden in one of the nearby trap doors.

"Well, alright, what are your abilities?"

Kenny's smirk returned in full force, and Stanford suppressed the urge to cringe. He was doing this for science, he reminded himself. For science.

"Well, you see, Stanford...can I call you Ford?"

"Oh, uh, yes."

"Well, Ford, us nagas all have one very special ability in common." Kenny chuckled, the force of it rippling all across his coils winding around the branches. Stanford watched, mesmerized at the browns and tans that ebbed and flowed like an ocean of coils.

"Ah, ah, ah. Eyes over here." Kenny's tail tip gently turned Ford's eyes back to his, amusement coloring his tone.

Ford blinked himself out of his stupor. "Yes. Sorry. You were saying?"

"Weeell, nagas have a very useful, very fun ability we just love to use." Kenny sang.

Ford instinctively leaned closer, now more curious than nervous. "And that is?"

"This."

A ring of yellow gently emerged and flowed outward from the center of Kenny's eyes. Then came orange. Then green. Then blue. Back to yellow. Orange. Green. Blue. Yellow.

Ford gasped softly at the display. "Enchanting." He breathed. "How on earth are you doing...that with...with your...y-your eyes...?" Odd. It was getting a little hard to speak the longer he observed them. His brain would form thoughts, but the patterns would compel them to swirl away into a silvery mist. Some thoughts would reach his mouth, but his tongue was becoming heavy and useless, like he'd downed a whole bottle of red mulled wine.

Kenny smiled softly, nodding with satisfaction at the colors emerging in his volunteer's eyes. "Magic. Although I've been told by a friend that it's slightly more complicated than that. But what matters is, it feels nice, right?"

"Y-Yes...it does..." Stanford sighed his agreement, the hand holding his pen going slack at his side. It really was the most wonderful feeling, like any care or worry that had ever crossed his mind just didn't matter anymore. The weight of expectations and responsibilities lifted off his shoulders, and in their place was an intense feeling of relaxation and peace, welcoming him to their cozy little world of lovely colors and rippling coils.

Ford giggled curiously. "Wazzz...wh-what's...happening?" He should have been writing this down and asking more pressing questions, but his brain may as well have been cotton by this point. Everything felt soft and warm and good.

Kenny giggled back. "Jussst a taste of my abilities, like you wanted." He tilted his head. Ford's own head followed, glued to his eyes. "You're looking a little sleepy. How bout' a little nap?"

"Nnn...nap...?" Ford blinked sluggishly, the word sparking a flash of recognition to reignite his sleep addled brain."H-Hold on...jus' a..." It took a painful amount of effort and willpower, so much that his eyes watered, but Ford managed to tear his eyes away from the hypnotic spectacle, taking a moment to rub the drowsy out of them.

"I...what just..?" He was dazed and dizzy. But he knew just enough to figure that he had to keep his eyes covered.

Kenny blinked away his hypnosis, startled by the rare show of resistance from a subject. There were few who could resist when they were that far under, but Ford just made the very short list. Even so, he wasn't completely out of the park yet, if his sleepy ramblings were any indication.

"Aww, hey, what's wrong?" Kenny kept his voice gentle, but couldn't suppress some amusement either. "I thought you wanted to know all about the abilities of the nagas?" He tilted his head, feigning hurt.

"Of...of course I do, but..." Ford turned away from where he heard the voice, having enough sense to cover his eyes with his arms, but not enough to remember how close he was to Kenny's tree. "I...I need to be-OOF!" He smacked right into it, the shock enough to snap him out of the spell completely.

He shook the swirls and cobwebs from his head, gritting his teeth and focusing on the pain. "You..." He turned back to where he thought Kenny was, eyes shut tight and pointing accusingly. "You tried to hypnotize me!"

"Wrong way." The voice to his left snorted playfully.

Red in the face more from embarrassment than anger, Ford turned in the proper direction. "What do you intend to do, use me as some sort of thrall?! Easy slave labor?!"

Kenny clapped. "Ha! Much more original than any accusations of eating people! But no." Ford heard a rustling of leaves to his right, and he flinched backwards, into a mass of coils that propped around his shoulders like a friendly arm. "You asked me what nagas could do. I was just showing you the works."

Stanford stubbornly remained angry. "You could've just told me! Or I could've watched you do it on a gnome, or...I don't recall giving you consent to hypnotize me!"

Kenny held up his hands in a placating gesture(that Stanford could not see). "Easy there, Ford! You're saying you didn't like it?"

Ford sputtered indignantly. "I...that's besides the point! I'm doing this for science, not for a...a nap! Can you imagine how many hours of precious research time I'll lose if I sleep?!"

To his surprise, Kenny's voice took on the slightest bit of concern. "Um, when was the last time you slept?"

Once again caught off guard, Ford had to gather his thoughts and take a deep breath to answer calmly. "I can handle not sleeping for a few days. What I can't handle is how the world moves on with or without me. Every second of every minute of every hour, something is happening. Creatures to catalogue, reports to write, disputes to diverge! I'm going to change the world with this project! I'll sleep when I'm dead!" Ford had forgotten what calm was by the end of his tirade.

Still with that aggravating concern he'd often heard from his mother, brother, and Fiddleford, Kenny tutted and gave Ford's shoulders a little squeeze with his coils.

"That's no way to go, buddy. Everyone needs sleep. Even life changers like you."

"We're getting off subject." Ford gritted his teeth, trying to breathe evenly. "You showed your ability. Thank you. I'll write all about it in my next volume. Now leave me alone." Eyes still shut, Ford ducked under the coils and felt around for the paper he had dropped during his little spell. Kenny's tail curled around his right wrist, as though dejected by the lack of attention. The six fingered scientist yanked his hand away, cursing quietly when he dropped the pen it'd been holding. "I mean it, Kenny. I've had enough." He snapped.

"Oh, but you really haven't."

Maybe it was the cockiness with which the naga said it, but Ford couldn't withhold his curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that I'd only just begun, and you'd only barely felt the full effects of a naga's powers. You resisted, and that just sent everything off kilter. Imagine how much info you could write about if you only knew what it's really like to be hypnotized by a real naga?" Kenny studied his own hands smugly, feigning nonchalance and hoping the anticipation didn't show on his face. He needed a new cuddle buddy after all.

Wait. Ford's eyes were still closed. What did Kenny have to worry about?

Ford crossed his arms, tapping a finger against his jacket. Kenny was just using promises of scientific discovery as a lure for another hapless victim, that's all this was.

Regardless, he did have to know something. "Why do you even want to hypnotize me, anyway? It can't just be because you think I need sleep." Ford huffed.

Kenny shrugged(Ford could STILL not see it). "I just wanted a cuddle. The fact that you need sleep is serendipitous."

Stanford had lost count of how many times this naga had had him completely flustered. "That's...that's why you...huh?"

"Of course! It's what I do. And no, it's not really a naga thing. It's just a Kenny thing." The naga laughed.

Ford found himself letting his guard down a little at the confession. "That's...really all there is to it?"

"Mm-hm!" Kenny nodded confidently. "Besides, is losing a few hours to the best sleep you'll ever have really that bad? Think of the discoveries you're missing out on!"

"W-Well, no, but...cuddle with you? I mean, that's just...uh..." Darn it, he was thinking of the discoveries! What could he be missing by resisting such power? Was sleep all that would happen? Could he dream under the effects of naga hypnosis? How long could a human like himself last before he gave in?

The questions were leaking through the dam of resistance in his brain. It wasn't long before they'd break free. Not only that, but...it's not like anyone would know about this. There was no one around this area but him and Kenny. Losing a bit of dignity for a few hours couldn't be too bad, could it?

Slowly, Ford allowed his crossed arms to leave his side. He knelt to the ground, feeling around for a good place to sit.

"I'll take that as a 'Go ahead'?" Kenny couldn't hide his excitement.

Hands patting a particularly soft mound of earth, Ford grunted and set himself into an upright sitting position, legs splayed. "Don't try anything stupid." He warned, determined to have as much control over this bizarre circumstance as he could.

"No problem at all." Kenny giggled. "Now, how 'bout you open your eyes, first."

Reluctantly, Ford slowly pried his eyes open, squinting against the light of mid-morning. Blinded, it took five seconds for his eyes to adjust the many colors of the day.

But then, he realized, it wasn't the day he was looking at. It was a now familiar sight of oranges and yellows and...he could barely keep track. They were going at a steady rate, but when he thought he could pick out one color, that one would fade into another, and another, and another...

Ford squinted, still stubbornly wanting to remain in control. Who said he couldn't monitor the scientific intonations in his head, after all? That way he could do research on the naga's hypnosis without losing any time to useless pastimes like sleeping.

The colors are reaching a familiar pattern. They ebb and flow like tides of the ocean. One disappears, only to appear just when you've forgotten it existed. Incredible. Dazzling. So very...focus! I hear something. A voice...a song...birds? No. Smoother. Kenny? Is it a lullaby? Trying to make it more challenging? Do your worst. I'm not...sleepy...at...all...Beautiful...So pretty...FOCUS!

Kenny watched, patiently awaiting Ford's lapse into sleep. One second his swirling eyes would droop, the next they would spring back up as he caught himself growing drowsy. Even when Kenny began to hum a gentle, lulling tune, Ford was putting up a good fight. But if the bags under his eyes told him anything, it was that he really needed a siesta.

Right. Time for a little coiling.

Noises of the forest are...fading...easier to focus on Kenny's voice...all that matters...wait. No. I was...I can't...sleep now...not yet...Focus on...ability...

Getting harder...to fight...melatonin trigger perhaps...so sleepy...yes, must be...mela...the stuff that...makes you...sleep...eyes make it...easy...to sleep...using...colors...lovely colors...

...?

Feeling...heavy...around...waist...

Indeed, a coil was just starting to inch its way around Ford's abdomen, squeezing in especially tense areas and loosening any aches and pains he had been feeling just seconds before. Around and around the tail went, carefully pinning his arms to his sides, just enough to restrain, not enough to alarm or hurt. The tip continued on upward, reaching over his chest, feeling his slow, steady heartbeat. When the tail reached his shoulders, Kenny used his impressive strength to gently tilt Ford backwards, lying him on the ground, and making sure his hypnotic eyes were always in view.

...Warm...Blanket...? No...coils...? So...sleepy...Why was...I...fighting...?

Kenny grinned over the helpless state Ford was in. His mouth hung open, his lids were periodically shutting and opening out of sync over his still swirling eyes, and his upper body was all wrapped up in his coziest coils. Still, even after all that effort, Ford looked like he need just one more little push. A nudge in the right direction.

Kenny slowly, slowly, slowly pulled him into the air, so that he hung suspended over the ground, legs dangling with the direction he swayed in. Another loop of coils around his body, and Stanford was covered neck to toe in the warm embrace of a naga hug.

...Being..held...so...wonderful...

Eyes lidded so low he could barely see Kenny's, Ford moaned softly at the sensations of his predicament. He couldn't remember why he had bothered fighting. Actually, he couldn't remember anything outside of his euphoric drowsiness and coil cocoon. Even then, Kenny noticed that his eyes hadn't closed just yet. Continuing his hummed lullaby, Kenny gave the coiled mass a little push, giving it a rocking effect.

...back...forth...back...forth...sleepy...so...sleepy...

I'm...

Falling...

F...a...l...l...i...n...g...

Gentle snores emerged from the cocoon, and Kenny sighed with satisfaction. "That wasn't so bad, was it now?" The tip of his tail closed Ford's mouth, where the snores turned into deep breathing. The coils gradually shifted from horizontal to vertical, so that his cheek was comfortably rested against his scaly bonds.

Kenny ran a hand through Ford's brown hair, smiling with his usual mischief. "You wouldn't mind sharing your results when you wake up, would you?"

---submitted by b120583

OOC: I love this! :'3 Always nice to see a character like Ford in a situation like this <3

#submission #ask-nagakenny #story #gravity falls #hypnosis #coils

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unkownknowledge · 3 years ago

Text

Genshin characters and their spider s/o

A little crossover HC post between terraformars and genshin.

Basically the reader is the result of a messed up experiment and now they look like a monstrous humanoid spider, like this guy:

Except you have no human skin or hair, just pure chitin, extra legs out the back, and mandibles(like a turian)

Also: request are still open, feel free to request!

Including: Jean, Xinqiu, and Razor

_____________________________

Jean: hollow knight

_____________________________

Jean had been receiving reports of frightened merchants and townsfolk, all of whom had been found on the road ranting about a giant spider.

Jean was sure it was nothing more than hilichurls or hoarders or abyss mages and the people were merely suffering panic induced hallucinations, this was supported by the clear signs of such dangers at the scene of the crime.

But still, neither any of the knights nor adventurers in the guild reported saving these people, nor did Diluc claim that he did when she asked him.

So Jean decided to investigate, after all not only is there a chance of finding camps of the three above dangers, but also the chance of finding a new ally.

When she saw you in a clearing you looked like a normal human, until you turned your head in an inhuman manner and looked at her with eight red glowing eyes.

You screamed at her and used your geo vision to grow eight giant legs out your back, which you used to run away.

Jean, being the persistent woman she is, wasn't about let you go until she confirmed if you were a friend or foe.

She chased you through the forest for a while, and unfortunately didn't notice a group of hilichurls hiding behind some trees.

One swung out and struck her from behind, knocking her to the ground.

At the sound of this you turned around and saw Jean on the ground.

While she easily could have beaten the hilichurls, she didn't have to. This is because you were immediately next to her, sword drawn and slicing through the monsters like a hot knife through butter. Your geo legs acted like extra blades that parried any attack directed towards the knight.

Because you're other legs were busy, however, you were unable to block the attack from a crossbow that shot right through your knee.

You fell down and were beaten senseless by the hilichurls, the last thing you remember was the sounds of a blade and the monsters turning to dust before you blacked out.

You woke up on a soft bed inside an unfamiliar building. You tried to get up but your knee had a large hole in it, luckily for you your ability to feel pain was long lost.

Jean entered a minute later with some food, "good, your awake."

"Where am I?" You asked.

"In my home, the guest room to be exact."

"Why did you save me?"

"Because you were in danger."

"Yes but why? Aren't you afraid of me?"

"Considering how you saved me as well? No, not at all."

Jean poured some tea for both of you, "now onto-"

You felt your eyes water, something you didn't realize you could still do.

"What's wrong?" Jean asked.

"It's just, it's been so long since anyone was...nice to me. My appearance isn't exactly very welcoming."

"And yet you still help people, the same people who call you a monster?"

"Of course! I might be an abomination, but I'm not a monster. In fact, before I became...this I had always dreamed of joining the knights."

"Well, that makes things easy."

"What do you mean?"

"While I cannot officially make you a knight, I can make you an honorary member of the knights of favonius."

"REALLY!?" You said, a child like excitment on your face.

So you joined the knights, of course not everyone was happy about this.

But noone doubted the acting grand master's decision, after all she never once failed the city.

After a while the city warmed up to you, even hailing you as a hero thanks to all you've done!

But the city's attitude towards you wasn't the only thing getting warmer.

Infact, a certain person's cheeks seemed to grow red as Amber's ribbon at the mere mention of your name.

Lisa and Kaeya were the first to notice Jean's infatuation with you, and they were quite intent on helping her.

It would be easy for them to set it up: you were cold blooded, so you had a heater in your room during the winter, and thanks to a 'freak lightning strike', your house was under renovations for the whole season, this caused Jean to let you stay in her home until yours was repaired.

Now all they had to do was sneak in an 'cool it' down.

You awoke in the middle of the night due to the temperature suddenly dropping. You tried turning on your heater but that didn't work. You went downstairs to make some hot tea, unaware that Kaeya swapped the labels on Jean's coffee and your tea. After making the beverage you sat down in the warmest corner, covered in blankets, and with a warm drink in hand.

Fun fact! Spiders get hella drunk off caffeine.

You are a spider.

One sip of the coffee and you felt funny, you couldn't think straight and felt wobbly.

Kaeya and Lisa giggled watching you.

"So, how DID you get them drunk? You couldn't exactly have spiked their tea could you?" Lisa asked.

"I swapped the labels on their tea and Jeans coffee. Spiders get hella drunk on-" Kaeya noticed Lisa worried face, "fuck, what did I do this time?"

"Kaeya, spiders don't get drunk on caffeine like humans do with alcohol."

Lisa pointed Kaeya towards the window

"Whoops"

Caffeine doesn't make spiders drunk the same way alchohol does a person, which is what Kaeya expected.

Caffeine makes spiders hyper, very hyper.

When Jean heard skittering and clanging she thought someone was robbing the house, so she was reasonably surprised to see you lying in the center of the kitchen, crying, and with webs all over.

When she asked what happened you just rolled over and mumbled out gibberish about how you can't catch any flies.

Jean picked you up to take you to bed, but you wrapped your arms and legs around her and caused her to fall.

"(Y/n), please let me go." Jean pleaded.

You shushed her, "nap time" and fell asleep.

Your grip was to strong for her to get out, and with your weight she couldn't get up in this position, so she just had to wait for you to get up.

The next day Jean got up the same time as you, she would have said something if you didn't kiss her and pet her head.

"I love this dream." You said, nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

Jean was shocked, what dream? You were clearly awake.

"I wonder if Jean is this warm in real life....I wish I could find out..."

"(Y-y/n)" she stuttered out, "you're not dreaming."

You shot up with all your eyes wide as saucers.

You immediately thought of running. But where would you go? The forest? Yeah, that works, just go there a-

You felt a warm sensation on your cheek.

"So (y/n), how does this dream usually go?" Jean said with a suggestive wink.

"(Y/n)?"

404 error, reader.exe has crashed

After that rather unconventional confession session, you both started dating.

Jean was concerned about not having enough time for you, but that proved to be very unfounded. Thanks to your many years alone you didn't know what dating was, so to you simply working together was fine.

On every mission out of the city you would bring gifts or a picnic for when the sun was setting.

On days where you both had paper work you would make tea and buy little cakes or biscuits and sit on her lap as you rested on eachother's shoulders and fed each other snacks, under the excuse that "sharing a chair saves space".

On the rare occasion Jean gets to have a day off, she showers you in affection.

She'll make you breakfast in bed(it's not good 80% of the time, but you don't tell her), she'll cuddle with you all day, she'll even read to you if you want. She wants to give back to you for all the time she couldn't give you her full attention.

_____________________________

Xingqiu: it's like one of my Inazuman graphic novels

_____________________________

Your meeting with the guhua geek was far more coincidental.

You were just minding your business, catching some animals to eat, when some weird guy just walks by you, not noticing you at all, as he reads his book.

You were rather suprised and, by extension, curious about this boy.

Was he blind in peripheral? Was he that brave? Was he an idiot?

A bit of colum B, mostly colum C.

Xingqiu sat down on a rock and continued reading, given how he was reading aloud you figured you might as well take advantage of his lack of notice and learn to read.

But he did notice.

"Ah shoot, spaces out again." Xingqiu cried, "now I have to start all over."

Xingqiu started reading the book all over again, much to your joy.

You could easily match his words to the page thanks to your speed of comprehension.

When the boy noticed it was getting late he decided to head home, while you were upset you didn't try and stop him. In fact you immediately darted away before he saw you.

The next day he came back, and read from the same spot.

And again

This went on for quite some time.

Xingqiu knew someone was watching him, but he never was able to catch a glimpse. He just figured it was someone who wanted to read legends of the shattered halberd but couldn't find any copies, and so the chivalrous thing to do would be to read it for them.

One day he finished the fifth book and proclaimed it was the last one, which made you rather sad.

Until he spoke to you.

"Well my secretive friend," he turned around, "shall w-"

You screamed

He screamed

For about five minutes.

After which you both just stared at eachother.

He pointed a shakey finger at you, "you're-"

You turned away, 'a freak I know' you thought.

"SO COOL!"

"What?"

Xingqiu immediately ran at you and started inspecting you.

The whole time he had such an amazed look on his face.

"Woah!" He said as he grabbed your mandibles, "are these real?!"

"Ye ey are, a ah ee e ah a" you said hoping he would understand that you need them to talk.

"Oh. Hehe. Sorry." He said releasing them.

"Aren't you...scared of me?" You asked.

"Why would I be? If you wanted to kill me you would have. It's not like I was particularly on guard when I was reading for you."

'Y-you knew I was there?"

"I knew someone was there, and I knew they were watching me read. Since you showed such interest in my book I thought the only chivalrous thing to do was to keep reading."

You were shocked, most people just ran and screamed upon seeing you.

"Now, shall we go look for the sixth book?"

After that you and Xingqiu became fast friends.

He used some of the money he made from the scam he pulled on that scammer to buy out the forest you lived in, making it officially private property so that people won't go after you.

He kept coming back with books for you both to read, you absolutely loved it!

And while you never realized it, you also loved him.

He however, did know he loved you.

Being the menace to society he is, Xingqiu decided the best way to confess was to just kiss you.

You're sitting on a stump with your head on Xingqiu's shoulder.

"This book isn't as good as the others." You say.

"Ah don't be like that, fairy tales are the foundation of all those 'knight in shining armor books' you love."

"Yeah but this is boring."

"True, true. But I think it has a great ending." Xingqiu turned to the final page, "and then the knight told the (royal title) how much he loved them, and to seal his love he placed a kiss on their cheek."

"That wasn't good."

"Why? It was very realistic."

"In what reality does someone confess by kiss-"

*smooch*

It took you a solid five seconds to process what happened.

Xingqiu smirked at you like the bastard man he is, "this one I believe."

Your mandibles hung slack as your face got a dark shade of blue.

"Uh, (y/n)?"

"Clothes off, now."

Xingqiu stumbled out the forest four hours later. Chongyun, who was protecting his privacy, asked him what's wrong.

"Absolutely nothing." He responded with the largest grin a human could muster, before his legs gave out, "can you carry me home?"

Your relationship was more steady than just that bit though.

Xingqiu spent as much time with you as he could, he even learned how to hunt so he could be with you while you hunted for food.

You never left your forest though, you were far to afraid of people and especially the vigilant yaksha(which Xingqiu tried to convince you was friendly).

Of course, not everything goes so simply.

Xingqiu was skipping through the forest, far to enamoured at the idea of you to notice someone following him.

You sat calmly on your rock and awaited your boyfriend of two years, today was his birthday so you made him a beautiful silk picture of his favorite scene from 'the legend of the broken halberd'

You felt the boy drop into your lap, "hello my love!"

You wrapped your arms and extra legs around him, "hello my little knight, I have a wonderful gift for-"

"XINQIU! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!"

You both turned around to see a man who looked oddly like Xingqiu.

"H-hey big bro..." Xingqiu said, clearly nervous.

"You're his brother?" You asked, "nice to meet you! I'm your future sibling in law!"

His brother looked surprised, then angry, "Xingqiu, a word."

"No," he responded, "anything you can say to me you can say to my (s/o)."

"Xingqiu, this is not a game."

"ANYTHING," Xingqiu said, far more aggressive, "you can say to me, you can say to them."

His brother sighed, "you can't date them."

"I believe I can."

"XINGQIU! ME AND FATHER HAVE TOLERATED ENOUGH OF YOUR CHILDISHNESS! YOU ARE AN HEIR OF THE FEIYUN COMMERCE GUILD, YOU CANNOT DATE THAT-THAT THING!"

Xingqiu shot up into a fighting stance, "care to repeat that?"

Xingqiu stared down his brother with murderous intent.

"So you wont back down?"

"Never, I love (y/n) to much!"

"If you don't leave them, you'll be disowned by father, all your wealth, power, and influence will be forfeited. All for an inhuman freak!"

"Xinqiu please," you tried telling your beloved, "I won't let you sacrifice-"

"Sorry darling, but I don't give a damn." He interrupted you before turning to his brother, "I will NOT abandon my beloved (y/n)! They are the most precious thing in the world to me! So go ahead! Strip me if my title, my riches, of my very skin! My heart will yearn for nothing else but the cold hard touch of love that is my (s/o)!"

Xinqiu's brother smirked

"So, you promise to always be with (y/n)?"

"Yes!"

"Through both sickness and health?"

As smart as he was, Xinqiu couldn't see what was happening, "with all my heart and soul!"

"And you would take (Y/N) as your contractually bound spouse?"

"I would sooner bite my arm off than live another day without them as such! In fact!" Xinqiu turned to you, "(Y/N)! WE'RE GOING TO GET MARRIED RIGHT NOW! COME ON!"

"Hold it!" His brother demanded, "(Y/N)! Would you stay with my brother, Xinqiu, through sickness and health, through rags and riches?"

You nodded, "forever and always!"

"And would you take him to be your contractually bound husband?"

"E-even if I had to fight Rex Lapis himself!"

Two burly hands grabbed the couple and pushed them together, "You may now kiss the bride!"

Without thought, you two kissed each other, not thinking to question the cheering, clapping, and crying-

You both pulled apart, "what the abyss is happening here?!"

The burly arms, now wrapping you both, was an older crying man who also looked like Xinqiu.

Xinqiu's Brother was crying and clapping.

Chongyun was blasting off party cones(🎉🎉these things)

And several other of Xinqiu's friends were there celebrating.

"W-wait..." Xinqiu started to remember that his brother, as a high ranking member of a commerce guild, can officiate marriages.

The older man, Xinqiu's father, cried and said, "finally! Grandchildren!"

(If you can't have babies, adoption exists and is perfectly normal)

Needless to say

404 error, Xinqiu.exe and Reader.exe have stopped working

_____________________________

Razor: the big bad spider and the itsy bitsy spider

_____________________________

(Please understand that my knowledge of Razor is based on his quest, I know of his special vision but it won't be brought up for this. I will be sure to read the wiki page for him if I write him again)

Razor knew something was wrong.

His wolf side told him something was wrong with the forest, and his human side told him it should be either avoided at all cost or destroyed.

Because it had stayed away he had largely tried to just avoid it and keep his lupical away from whatever IT is.

Until a foolish pup decided to try and defeat whatever big bad monster had their protector so scared.

Razor ran faster than any lightning bolt upon hearing the news.

Razor didn't know what he was seeing: giant webs strewn out covering entire trees, boars and Hilichurls wrapped in webs and frozen in a sickly green.

And at the center of it all was a giant, monstrous creature with eight leg like roots coming from it's back, feeding off the life of all the creatures stuck here.

This is what he was afraid of, the beast that every inch of his primal self screamed to get away from.

But he couldn't, not until he found the pup!-

"Hello." You said calmly to the strange man coming into your home, "is this your's?"

You outstretched your hand and a sleeping pup drifted towards razor on a flower.

"He caused lots of problems, so I made him sleep. Don't worry, it's nothing permanent, give him an hour or two and he'll be right up."

After Razor left, you assumed that would be the last disturbance for a while.

But it wasn't.

Razor's wolf half still feared you, was still mortified when he pictured your spider like face, your towering body, everything.

But his human half...teembled.

Not in fear, but in a different way.

He couldn't stop thinking of you, and his primal upbringing did little to quell the less romantic thoughts about your gem like eyes, the way your mandibles clicked and moved when you talked, the overwhelming nature energy that you radiated.

But he still knew good enough to get to know you better.

Just not HOW to do it.

"Why are you spider?"

Is not a good first thing to ask.

But you explained regardless: you were taken as a kid and experimented on by some rogue students from Sumeru academy.

Then some purple lady rescued you, and while you were grateful you much preferred living out in the wild.

"Yes...wild is good! Wolvendom, especially good!"

Someone please help him.

"Purple lady....ah! Shockey wizard lady from knights?"

You nodded

"Razor good friends with her and honorary knight! Do you know red flamy girl?"

"Klee? Oh yes! I love her! She's such a nice kid!"

"Yes, Klee is like lupical! Even if she...burns down forest from time to time."

Lucky for him, your shared familial love for the pyromaniacal minor helped bridge the gap between you two.

Eventually he even got you to leave your grotto(?) And meet his lupical!

He introduced you to the wonders of actually eating rather than just sucking the life force out of animals.

You both love and protect the forest of wolvendom, and if any large threat arises to it then you both will fight fang and claw to protect your home!

Neither of you know what love is in the human sense, but you both feel it to each other and act upon it: giving each other a portion of your food, taking blows in battle for each other, and cuddling more intimately than just friends would.

You are his lupical, and so much more.

_____________________________

I started this near last year's end, it took me till now to realize I should only do 3 characters.

(Paging: @golden-wingseos, @storytravelled)

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #jean x reader #Razor x reader #Xinqiu x reader #xinqiu #genshin jean #razor

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frostsinth · 4 years ago

Text

Burdened by the Stars - Pt. 4

Part 1 | 2 | 3 - MasterList

Picking up a bit of motivation for this story again. Yay! And sorry, the boys can’t seem to get it into their heads that this one is not their story. I’ll try to keep their visitation to a minimum.

But regardless, here’s more of the sass and himbo duo! If you like my work, consider supporting me by buying me a coffee from the link in my MasterList above. I have lots of other inane ramblings there too if you are interested. DM me for commissions, shoot me asks with thoughts/comments!

All the best, and Enjoy!

After a brief assessment away from the dizzying presence of the half-orc, I realized there was very little chance of the Royal quarters actually having what I needed. Nikostratus was the tallest and broadest in the family, and even he did not come very close to matching Erramun in height. Besides, I couldn’t imagine my neat and tidy older brother wouldn’t notice his clothing going missing. But the laundering rooms were near the bottom level of the castle, closer to the city than the towers. There was no telling if once I arrived I would be able to find some appropriate clothing with any ease, considering that laundry from every part of the castle was often washed in mixed tubs. There was also no way for me to know whose clothes would be on rotation for wash today, nor in what state, batch, or bin they might be in if I did find them. Which made a visit to the laundering rooms, while more anonymous and definitely more diverse, absolutely impractical for my devices. However, the guards quarters were not quite so far; only a few levels down and adjacent to the training cliffs. There, I knew, I would be most likely to find the belongings of perhaps the one resident in the entire goblin castle that might have a few items close enough to Erramun’s size.

It was an easy enough trip, though I tried to make it as hastily as possible. No guarantees of what that fool would get up to if I left him to his own devices for too long. I also wasn’t entirely sure he had been completely honest when he had said he could manage the bath. Considering his wooziness since I had met him in the forest, I worried he might just pass out in the water and drown. Not that my being there would be much help, I reasoned. I certainly wasn’t strong enough to haul a half-drowned half orc from the water should he require it. I was also more than a little perturbed with the recollection of the taut green skin running over his shoulders and muscular back. My mind supplied ample fodder for what might be waiting a little further down than my eye had succeeded in wandering during our prior parting. And the thoughts brought a hot flush to my cheeks. I quickly forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

Thankfully, the barracks were also mostly quiet. The majority of the guard would be on their daily patrols, or perhaps in the dining commons catching a meal beforehand. Any left here would be from night shift, so would most likely be resting in their bunks. I had been here often enough, and knew the layout by heart (as I knew most of the castle). I headed towards the largest of the chambers, near the back, where the General kept his private quarters. Retired General, he would say, should you care to ask him. Though considering he still managed to keep busy enough maintaining the guards and patrols, perhaps that was not the optimal word. His title was more ceremonial now than necessity, as he had the guard running like a perfectly well oiled machine, and more often than not you could find him with a drink in hand, laughing alongside the nobles in the sitting rooms of the castle. Still, I was glad General Damjan had maintained some personal quarters in the castle rather than permanently retiring outside its walls. It meant I might actually have a chance of finding a set of clothes that would fit my behemoth charge. I was also fortunate that although Damjan kept his private quarters locked, I knew exactly where the old soldier kept his key.

Damjan was, in a sense, like a grandfather to me. He had been a major part of Grier’s life after his father’s passing, and when Nikostratus had moved to the castle he had taken my brother under his wing as well. So it fell to reason that he had me spoiled rotten by the time I was 11; teaching me all the best goblinese curses, and a few fighting moves that were certainly not proper for a Princess to know. The old half-goblin was also a sound source for advice, and had an ample stock of wisdom to share with anyone willing to listen. Therefore, I had been to visit him in his office and chambers more than a few dozen times over the years. Which meant I knew his rooms nearly as well as mine and Niko’s. Allowing me to steal in and out with as simple a shirt and pair of trousers as I could find and relock his door all within a matter of minutes. I was assuaged of the little stab of guilt I felt by the fact that if Damjan had been around to ask, he certainly would have been more than indulgent of my request. I simply just didn’t have the time right now to look for the old General to tell him I had another half-orc stashed upstairs in my private chambers. I made a silent promise to the universe that I would make him a plate of his favorite pastries to make up for it.

It had barely been half an hour since I had left Erramun when I skittered down an upper hallway back towards the towers. Still, despite having managed to avoid the entirety of the current inhabitants of the castle and with prize in hand, I was anxious to be back. I was so distracted by the thought of what the half orc would be doing alone in my bed chambers that I moved automatically and inattentively. Causing me to almost run head first into a goblin as we both rounded the same corner from opposite directions.

“Ah, little bird!” He exclaimed delightedly as we recovered ourselves.

I nearly squeaked in surprise, quickly hiding the bundle of clothes behind my back as Grier fixed me with his classic toothy smile. The goblin King seemed un-bothered by our near collision, though I had to work quickly to throw a cover over my guilty expression. I saw his scarlet eyes flick over me curiously at my movement, and one slender brow cocked up. I knew I would have to work fast to evade suspicion and make my escape. My brother-in-law was perpetually curious, and keenly observant. Prolonging our interaction would only heighten the chances that I would have to build a lie I wasn’t prepared to forge.

“Sorry, Grier, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” I told him quickly, starting to slide around his side. Careful to face him as I did with my back and hands squarely out of his line of sight. “But I’m sure you’re very busy, so I won’t keep you!”

He spun slowly on heel to match my movement. “No trouble at all, little bird,” He replied, and I saw the suspicion already growing quickly on his face as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, “Nikostratus has been looking for you, you know.”

“Oh, he’s always looking for me,” I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, shrugging my shoulders, “Mostly because the majority of that time he spends lost in the halls. Or searching a place he already checked having turned himself around and gone back on his own feet.”

Grier laughed at that, placing his hands on his hips. “Yes, the man is completely hopeless I fear.” He followed me a step down the hall as I started to retreat backwards. “But none-the-less… you seem to be making a particular point of avoiding him this time around.”

“I am just busy,” I started to assure him, “I-”

“Morgana, you know you have been avoiding us both since you first got here nearly a week ago.” He interrupted, his voice becoming uncharacteristically serious. “I am not sure what we did… or what you’re hiding… but please keep in mind you have the same air of secrecy about you as when you rescued that bear cub from the forest when you were 15.” He shifted his hands to cross his arms over his chest. His thin lips twitching in amusement. “It was halfway through the kitchen pantry before you finally came clean… I do hope you’ve learned your lesson since then?”

I gave a nervous, forced laugh. “I haven’t smuggled in any wild animals, I promise.” Which was technically true.

He gave an unconvinced ‘hmmm’ at that. “But you do know you can talk to us, yes?” He asked quickly, even as I opened my mouth to continue, “About anything that may be bothering you.” His head tilted slightly to one side. “... Nikostratus is worried about you.”

I felt a little tongue of anger flare up in me at that. “I’m not a child anymore.” I scoffed, my brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t need nor want my brother hovering over me like some agitated mother hen!”

Grier considered that as well, and I started to take a few steps backwards down the hall. Eager to make my escape. Shaking my head in frustration and thinking that was the end of it. My brother-in-law was not usually the confrontational sort with me. He was good at gathering information, at poking holes in my defenses; but I tended to think he preferred to be my confidant rather than my guardian. We had developed a rather close relationship since he had married my brother, mostly revolving around how best to manage my tight lipped, straight backed sibling. It had been a rocky start for the two of them, and I had exclusive inside knowledge of how best to break through Niko’s stony exterior. In later years, he had more often than not come to my defense when my brothers had sought to disperse punishments, or withhold liberties. He understood my wild spirit better than either of them, and that it caused my siblings and I to butt heads frequently. Not to say he wasn’t carefully responsible around me. He had taken me as his ward as much as Niko had back our mother had passed when I was born. But he usually left any actual scolding to my brothers.

Which was why I nearly stumbled in surprise when he persisted in the face of my irritation. Rather than letting it pass as he usually would.

“Well, that may be the case, little bird,” He said, even as I continued to inch away from him, “But regardless, you know your brother will always worry about you. And-” He continued before I could interject “- Even if you are upset with him, that is no reason to avoid your commitments. Most prominent being the promise you made to your nieces and nephews.”

That made me falter, and my retreat stilled. “... I didn’t mean-”

“You promised you would go with them to the gardens.” He pressed, not allowing me breath for excuses. The goblin raised one bejeweled hand, silencing any protests I might have had. “I understand if you would like your space from myself and Nikostratus, and I will speak to him about allowing you some. However, I would ask that you do not allow your current disdain to rub off on the children, as they have done nothing to raise your ire, and do not deserve your neglect.”

I winced now, guiltily. “I forgot I…” I hesitated, and half expected Grier to fill the lull, as he often did. But the goblin merely raised his brow at me again, and I shuffled in my shame. “... Of course. I’m sorry. I will be sure to collect them from their lessons today…” I couldn’t help a guilty glance over my shoulder, as if I would be able to see the clothes scrunched up behind my back. “... I just need to drop something off in my rooms first, then I promise I’ll go straight to see them.”

“I appreciate that.” He replied, nodding slightly. “I know you likely didn’t intend for them to get swept up in… whatever this is.” He crossed his arms again. “Still, I hope you and your brother reconcile soon.” His toothy grin returned. “I miss our little bird.”

I laughed softly, dropping my gaze to the floor. “I don’t think we’re fighting, per say...” I hesitated briefly, “...but I’ll… keep that in mind.”

“And I’ll keep in mind that being stubborn and hot tempered runs in the family.” He mused, his voice still light-hearted. “And will try to muster what patience I can to wait this out.”

I almost laughed again, but settled for a respectful dip of my head. I longed to inch away, back down the hall in the direction of my rooms. But waited as long as I could stand under the goblin King’s scrutiny to avoid any more suspicion. Grier did consider me one last time, then sighed and gave his own little nod. Turning to head off himself. No sooner had he started than I spun and darted down the hall. Pulling my bundle of clothes around to shield them from his view as I did. I wondered only briefly what he would make of that, but didn’t bother to linger on it long.

I took the steps to the tower two at a time, my heart pounding in my ears by the time I reached the top. Thankfully, no one else was around at that moment, and I made it back to my rooms unmolested.

I leaned back against my closed door with a brief sigh of relief. I hoped Grier wouldn’t go looking for Niko yet. I knew he would be inclined to tell my brother about our interaction; the two shared just about everything with one another. Still I hoped he might wait until much later in the day. To give me a chance to properly wrap things up here before one of the pair came looking for me again. I didn’t linger long against the wood, my eyes already darting about the small sitting room. But it seemed my strange company was nowhere to be seen. I had been away for far too long for him to be bathing still, I reasoned. Unless perhaps he was a particularly lazy orc, or was enjoying the hot, fresh water a bit too much. Not that I could picture such a thing, though I reminded myself I didn’t know him all that well after all. I gathered up the salve and bandages from before in my bundle, listening for any sounds I might hear. I noticed the door to the bathing rooms appeared to be as I had left it, and hesitantly made my way over. I quickly chided myself, straightening up and squaring my shoulders. These were my rooms. I shouldn’t have to sneak about shyly.

I did however allow him the courtesy of rapping my knuckles lightly against the sliding door.

“Hey, you still alive in there?” I called lightly.

When there was no response, my heart leapt, and I attempted to force down the sudden anxiety trapping itself in my throat. I cracked my knuckles against the door again, then slowly slid it open. More than a little leery of seeming something I didn’t want to see. Or admitting to myself that maybe it was something I did. The memory of our last parting surfaced unbidden to my thoughts, and I stubbornly pushed it away.

The bathing room beyond was empty. The waters rippled and gently gurgled with the natural flow of the water, but otherwise it was still. I might have been able to convince myself that the entire day had been a figment of my overactive imagination had it not been for the pile of soiled towels by the edge of the pool. I groaned internally, bustling in and peeking into the corners as if the behemoth man could have somehow managed to hide behind the potted plants. At least there didn’t appear to be a trail of blood anywhere. I prayed to whomever was listening that the dolt hadn’t deigned to leave the chambers.

“Where are you, you idiot?” I grumbled, tucking my bundle under one arm and heading to the door at the opposite end.

“In here.” Came the reply, and I nearly shook with relief.

He must have keener hearing than I thought. Or he had been listening for my return. The door to my bedroom was slightly cracked, and I shouldered it the rest of the way open, then spun to close it behind me. Using the motion as an excuse to steady myself as the sound of his deep voice seemed to have rattled me strangely.

“I do hope you aren’t-” I started as I turned, then promptly squealed loudly in surprise, dumping the clothes, bandages, and salve unceremoniously to the floor as both hands shot up to cover my eyes.

“Eh?” I heard the shuffle of his feet across the bare stone floor as he must have continued his own turn to face me. “Is something the matter?”

“WHERE ARE YOUR CLOTHES??” I nearly shrieked.

Though I kept my palms firmly clasped over my eyes, the previous momentary glimpse of the half-orc’s assured nudity was currently seared deep into my mind’s eye. The fine toned abdomen. The taut green buttocks, with a dimple above the top of each cheek in the small of his back. He must have washed his hair, for the long mohawk of growth had spilled over his skin like polished ebony in soft looking tendrils. Leading my eyes over his broad green shoulders. And when he had started to turn… the soft ‘v’ shape at the top of his hips leading down to…

The sight (and now, memory of the sight) left my mouth decidedly dry and my lips refusing to work properly. I felt an unfamiliar twitch in my fingers as the urge to pull them apart and sneak another peek rushed through me. There was no way! No way any man should be that… I swallowed hard, shaking my head with my hands pressed so tightly to my face it almost hurt.

“You said they were filthy, and inappropriate.” He reminded me matter-of-factly, and I could almost hear the shrug of those big shoulders. Big, broad, muscular shoulders-

“That doesn’t mean you should walk around NAKED!” I snapped, finally starting to come to my senses. I shifted my hands so that one covered both eyes, and crouched down in an attempt to blindly find what I had discarded in my panic.

“What was I to wear?” He replied. “Your drying cloths are tiny. I needed three just to-”

“I don’t care!” I managed to find the clothes by groping about with my free hand, and stood. Tossing them towards the sound of his voice and hearing a disgruntled huff as they hit him. “Just put those on, quickly, before my breakfast makes a reappearance.”

Erramun gave an angry grumble, but I heard the shake and shuffle of cloth as he did. “I didn’t know human stomachs were so sensitive.” His voice became muffled briefly as I assumed he pulled the shift over his head. “I always thought my mother was being dramatic when she scolded me for forgetting to dress.”

“If your mother imparted any other wisdom to you regarding humans, I suggest now is the time you take it to heart.” I replied sourly. Careful to keep my palms firmly fastened over my eyes. Though the heat of my cheeks nearly burned me.

I was so focused on not looking, I didn’t hear the soft scrape of his bare feet again as he moved forward. I jumped about a foot in the air as his hands suddenly came around my wrists. Gently pulling them free from my face. Leaving me suddenly face to face with a soft silk and cotton shirt, its untied collar just hinting at the toned chest I had been privy to moments before. I tried to ignore that memory, and fought through a sudden haze at the realization that his fingers were almost as gentle and soft as they were strong. And how close he currently stood to me. My heart skipped and I felt my breath catch in my throat as my head craned back to look up at him. He gave me a lopsided grin that had my knees feeling a little weak, and I felt him gently turn my hands in his. Until the backs of my hands rested in his palms and he could run his thumbs over the pads of my fingers.

“I am sorry, Gana,” He told me gently, “I did not mean to startle you so.”

For a second, I couldn’t find the air in my lungs to speak. I struggled for a moment, and saw those bright emerald green eyes of his flick about my face. Thoughtfully, perhaps… almost appreciatively. And the way he was studying my features suggested he had been meaning to do just that for some time now. Up close, with seemingly time to spare to linger on each inch. I felt the flames beneath each cheek rekindle, but was strangely frozen for another few staggered beats of my heart. Finally, I yanked my hands from his, quickly shaking my head again to dispel the moment. Stubbornly denying it had ever existed.

“Is the apology her wisdom or yours?” I quipped, pleased to find my sarcasm still had a sharp bite to it despite the swirling quality of my thoughts.

My heart nearly faltered again at his answering smile. “A little bit of both, I suppose.”

I scoffed, trying to clear my head as I waved my hand at him dismissively. “Then perhaps there is some hope for you after all…” I took a step back, eager to put some space between us and hopefully regain a little more of my senses. “What are you even doing back here?” I put my hands on my hips. “I don’t suppose your mother ever told you it is incredibly rude to snoop around a lady’s chambers?”

“Hmm. She may have raised that point once or twice.” He grinned again, turning to follow my progression as I stalked around him angrily. I crouched down briefly to gather up the remainders of my bundle from the floor. “But you took longer than expected… And I was curious.” His head cocked to the side as he slowly followed me to the center of the room by the bed. “Are these the Princess’ rooms?”

I nearly dropped the jar and bandages again, spinning on him with the vial of healing salve in hand. “What makes you say that??”

He nodded to the corner. “The jewels and such.” I followed his gaze to my vanity table, where I had left some never used jewelry as thoughtlessly as one might discard soiled clothes on a chair. “I do not think even human servants tend to have such things.”

“I never said I was a servant.” I reminded him sourly, then jerked my chin. “Sit.”

“You haven’t said much of anything.” He shot back, but did as he was told and settled onto the chest at the foot of the bed.

“Eventually you may just conclude that that is entirely by design.” I said, opening the jar as he rolled his shirt up on one side. I pretended not to notice the tautness of his flesh or the shape of his abdomen as I slowly spread some of the salve on his wound. It seemed to have mostly stopped bleeding, which was good. “You may even come to remember that I am looking to get you out of here as quickly as I can. And the sooner that is the better.”

“Do I really disgust you so?” He asked, sounding bitter.

My eyes darted up to his face in surprise. And I got stuck in the quality of those emerald greens for a moment longer than I would ever admit. I adjusted my tongue in my mouth, forcing my eyes away from his finally and reaching for the pile of bandages I had brought.

“... You don’t disgust me.” I admitted quietly.

He snorted, wincing slightly as I began to carefully apply first a clean square bandage, then the longer ones wrapped about him to hold it in place. It brought me uncomfortably close to him. I couldn’t help but take in a breath next to his skin, and found the smell of him made my nostrils quiver. I was just surprised to find he didn’t stink anymore, I assured myself silently. That was all. I had come to expect him to smell like dirt and blood, not this strangely pleasant smell he currently had. It meant nothing that I noticed it.

“You don’t seem to like me all that much.” He replied. “I am not sure what else it would be.”

I straightened, having secured the end of the bandage in place, and crossed my arms over my chest. “Oh, obviously I must hate you then. That must be why, and it has nothing at all to do with the reason why you are even here in the first place.” I scoffed.

“Eh?”

My eyes rolled, and I was grateful for it as I didn’t have to watch him roll his shirt back down over his stomach again. The way his shoulders shifted and moved beneath the fabric wasn’t at all fair.

“You came here insistent that you would be marrying the Princess. Am I supposed to welcome you with open arms?” I placed my hands back on my hips and scowled at him. “Perhaps you assume that since you plan to marry her, that means you should be treated as a Prince?”

That warranted me a loud guffaw, and my eyes widened slightly in surprise. His crooked grin had my heart skipping, and I scoffed again in an attempt to dislodge it from my throat. The big orc stood, swaying for half a moment and forcing me back a step as he reached out to steady himself on the post beam of the bed. I eyed him warily, not too fond of the idea of being crushed by his bulk should he lose his balance and completely topple over. He managed to keep his feet however, and half staggered over to a full length mirror.

The clothes fit him surprisingly well, though it seemed that General Damjan was a bit narrower and lankier than he was. The sleeves of his cream colored shirt bunched up at his wrists, but you couldn’t tell since the collar of the shirt was filled with soft ruffles and the style was of a looser fit. It draped lazily over his shoulders, clinging to his upper arms and chest as he moved, with a straight cut that had him looking even taller than before. His trousers, a dark brown, disappeared beneath the long hanging tails of the shirt, but hugged his thighs snuggly. The outside seam of each leg had a dash of lighter thread, accenting the length of his limbs, as well as their shape. I had to take a moment to adjust my gaze from those firm, muscular thighs of his before his emerald eyes noticed me ogling him from behind.

“I look… foolish…” He grumbled.

I crossed my arms. “Good, you finally reflect your natural state then.” He snorted, turning this way and that and playing with the fabrics. I rolled my eyes again. “The shirt is supposed to be tucked into the pants. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

He glanced at me in the mirror, then back at his shirt. “... How?? These pants are too tight. There is no space!”

That had me laughing, despite myself. Certainly the goblins had an interesting sense of fashion, preferring aesthetics over functionality and comfort. Though I supposed the same could be said for some of the human court styles. Neither had put much thought into moving around. And based upon his previous attire, pants were not something the young orc was used to. My laugh petered out when I saw his lopsided grin waiting for me in the mirror. His whole face seemed a little brighter for it. I shook my head, unable to hide a lingering smile, and moved over to the bed.

“Alright, enough of that. I have someplace to be. And you should get some rest.” I told him as I adjusted the thick blankets and pillows. Peeling back a corner for him.

“You’re leaving again?”

My eyes darted up to him, surprised to hear the tang of remorse in his words. I slapped the blankets a few times for good measure. Letting out an impatient sigh.

“Yes, it may come as a shock to you, but I actually do have regular responsibilities outside of cleaning up errant wandering idiots.” I teased, straightening and taking a step back to allow him access to the bed. “Plus I have to see to your mare still.”

“... So I can stay?”

I groaned, pushing my wild hair back out of my face. Trying to ignore the odd pitter patter of my heart at the question. I gave him a once over, as if chewing on the thought. Certainly it was not because I was making excuses to prolong his company. That of course I found the half-orc taxing. There shouldn’t be any question that I wanted him out of my life as soon as possible.

“I can’t very well send you off until I know you aren’t going to pass out in a ditch somewhere.” I told him. Making an effort to sound as though I was at least mildly chaffed with the idea. “So yes, you oaf. You can stay.” I bit my lip, shuffling. “... For now.”

Erramun slowly walked over, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His eyes looked over the room again. I shuffled my skirts and turned to gather up a few things to manage the clutter a bit better. Suddenly very aware of the fact that I had a strange man in my personal chambers. At best it was highly improper. At worst, it was downright dangerous. Afterall, I had only known Erramun a few days, and yet let myself be locked up in my bedroom alone with him. If Niko found out, he might just have a stroke on the spot. Though he might remain upright long enough to run my visitor through with his sword first.

“Won’t the Princess be cross that you are using her chambers to wash an orc?” He mused, tilting his head to one side.

“Half-orc, you mean?” I teased, glad my back was to him so he didn’t see my mouth twitch in amusement. “And I don’t think she’ll mind much.”

“She lets you use these rooms for yourself,” He reasoned, and I saw his nose twitch out the corner of my eye, “The bed smells like you.”

I nearly tripped over my own feet. Tossing an armful of my things into a chest and closing it. I glanced at him briefly as I grabbed a small empty basket and put the remainder of the dressings and the jar of salve in it.

“Stop smelling me. It’s rude.”

He grinned. “I will try to breathe through my mouth then. Or would that be rude too?”

“I’m not sure you’re capable of being anything else.” I returned airly, looking around and considering my handiwork for a moment. “Except perhaps a fool.”

Erramun chuckled, a sound that came from somewhere deep in his chest. I glance at him out the corner of my eye. “I hope the Princess will not think so.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“You are close with her then?”

I groaned. Well, it had been nearly a few minutes since the last mention of the Princess that time. “Honestly, do you ever think of anything else?” I grumbled. “Must be dull, revolving your life around marrying a girl you’ve never met.”

“You say it like I have a choice.” He grumbled right back.

I turned to him once more, the morose tone of his voice giving me pause. It seemed in stark contrast to the teasing lightness from before. The half-orc had his head bowed, his over defined brow scrunched. The long tendrils of his damp hair trailed around his face. I considered this for only a brief moment, returning my hands to my hips.

“Don’t you?” He didn’t look up at me at my words. I felt a tick of irritation at that. “You are an orc, half or otherwise. You are not beholden to the whims of a court, or the expectations of your people. You do not have the same responsibility to put the welfare of others above your own freedom and happiness.” I glanced off to the side, my eyes drifting longingly to the window. “You can wander under the open skies, should you so choose. You can see far off lands, go on adventures, take risks-”

“If I want to be selfish, and ignore the suffering of my people.” He interrupted, his voice heated. “Perhaps everyone here is magically accepting, but at the border, being over six foot and having green skin is enough to get you harassed. If not worse.”

“And marrying a Princess will solve that?” I shot back, equally hot.

“It will ease tensions.” He argued. “It will prove that we are not savages. That we can make alliances-”

I threw up my hands exasperatedly. “Even if I had a year, I still wouldn’t have enough time to point out all the flaws in your reasoning. And right now, I have to go collect my nieces and nephews.” I moved over to swipe a clean cloak from one of the hooks by the armoire. “You stew in your own idiocy, or, preferably, sleep. So that perhaps I can have you out of my hair before it starts to turn grey.” I spun on him, leveling one stern finger at his face. “And don’t even think about leaving this room.”

Erramun raised one brow at me, his thick lips pursing together around his tusks. Then his head tilted to the side, and that lopsided grin returned. It made my determination falter briefly, almost so much that I nearly took a step back in light of it.

“You are quite fierce, Gana.” He mused. “If the Princess is anything like you, I will be lucky.”

That had a sound heat rising to my cheeks, but I shook my head. Scoffing loudly. “You are a fool and a half.” I grumbled, turning my back on him so he couldn’t see the strange crash of emotions that fought their way across my face. “Single minded and absolutely incorrigible.”

He snorted, sounding amused. “Something else then. If I sleep in your bed, where will you sleep?”

His words had me freezing in the doorway to the foyer. I tried to ignore the rapid speed of my pulse, swallowing heavily and shaking my head. Based upon the tone of his voice, I knew that stupid lopsided smile was still on his face. I replaced the heat of embarrassment at his implication with that of anger.

“Preferably just about anywhere else.” I snapped, then stormed out to the hall. Being sure to lock the door behind me.

UPDATE: Part Five HERE

#Burdened by the Stars #half orc #orc boyfriend #orc romance #orc lover #slow burn #himbo #sass #regency romance #update #monster lover #monster boyfriend #monster x human #poc #frenemies #terato #exophilia #Royal Flush Sequel #li'un ma shkio

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axther · 4 years ago

Text

in the golden afternoon

tamaki x reader: in the golden afternoon

in which the reader falls into a place called Wonderland, and meets the knave of hearts who is far too soft spoken to be a knight. for @mortedeveles tw: mentions of beheading

Wonderland was a strange place, YN realised.

Truthfully, she wasn’t entirely sure how she got there; she was on a walk when she tripped over a hole, and there she was, plummeting down and down and down through the most unusual rabbit tunnel. It was like a drug trip and made YN dizzier than she would’ve liked. But when she finally landed, she realised that this world was much stranger than her own. It was upside down and inside out, where nowhere was everywhere and everywhere was anywhere. Paths erased themselves and the sky was a strange shade of purple mixed with blue. Huge pine trees had pale pink roses on them, and the grass was maroon. Flowers spoke with sharp tones and lilting song, rocking-horse flies flitted around, and YN would shrink and grow at the world’s whims. There were no rules, and YN learned to obey. One of the non-rules was told to YN by a young man with purple hair and wide, toothy grin. He called himself the Cheshire Cat, as he reclined lazily along a tree branch and swung his tail around. All ways here, you see, are the King’s ways, he purred. Oh, but don’t worry. He’d be just mad about you. YN wasn’t sure what the Cat meant by that, but his lavender eyes narrowed, and she didn’t feel any comfort. He took it upon himself, strangely enough, to follow YN through her journey into Wonderland. He gave snippets of twisted wisdom and often got her into trouble, but she couldn’t find herself to become angry at him. He was a companion that she found herself grateful for in the long dark ways of Wonderland. She ended up wandering into the gardens of the Red King, seeing several young men furiously painting several white roses. The Cat floated around above her, watching the men work. “My, my, they are truly working themselves hard.” The Cat grinned, wrapping his tail around YN’s shoulders. “It’s almost like their lives depend on it~!” “Do you suppose that’s why?” YN tilted her head, looking at the Cat and then back to the men. “They’re very rushed.” YN bent down to pick up a stray paint can and brush, and prodded the brush around in the bucket. The red paint was more akin to blood, wet and dripping onto the grass. Strangely, the grass looked to once be green, if the spots unpainted meant anything, but the young men had been so sloppy with their job that it had gotten everywhere. The roses were very blatantly painted, hardly drying before they moved onto another flower. The leaves were dripping and the branches were stained, and YN slowly walked up to the three they were working on. “Hullo,” She moved around so she could see the three men, each of whom jumped before working twice as fast. One had bright green hair that flopped around his face, the paint smattering over his freckles and making him look like a Christmas decoration. The one next to him looked angry, almost stabbing the roses in his fury. The last looked, in a word, dumb, painting his fingers more than the roses and getting it all over his blonde hair. He had a strange mark that was like a lightning bolt across the side of his hair, and it seemed so out of place with the rest of him that YN cast him a strange look. “Huh?!” The second worker turned, and with a growl, swung his paintbrush at YN without hitting her, and went back to work. “Get outta here! Fuckin idiot!!” “What?” YN reeled back, pursing her lips with an angry stare. “How rude!” “You fuckin heard me!” The man barked, growling like a dog. “We’re busy!” “W-wait!” The green-haired one stopped the blonde in his tracks with a yelp. “Kaachan! Be nice! Maybe she can help us!” “Oh?” The Cheshire Cat grinned. “Being recruited, are we?” “Shush, you mangy thing.” YN huffed, tightening her hold on the paint can and addressing the three. “Why are you painting the roses red?” “Well, y-you see, the Red King wanted red roses.” The green-haired one stuttered, biting his lip and getting back to work. “And fucking Socket Licker planted white roses!” Kaachan hissed, finishing up the tree. The last blonde jumped, peering at YN and the others. “Huh? Is something up?” “Denki, not now.” “Oh. OK!” Denki started walking over to the tree that Kaachan was working on, working on a rose that was already painted. The green-haired man hung back, looking to YN. “Uh...I’m Midoriya, and that’s Bakugou and Denki. Would you be willing to help us? It would really be awesome!” “Very well, then.” YN furrowed her brow and walked up to the tree, painting gently so it actually looked convincingly like a red rose. Bakugou and Midoriya were both doing relatively good jobs, but Denki’s painting was sloppy enough that white portions were left open. YN tried to cover several of them up, but before she could get far, trumpets starting sounded from across the hedge maze. The three jumped, scampering around and trying to paint any roses they saw with a single swipe of red. It didn’t do much, but then the White Rabbit walked mutely in with a small frown and sighed, raising a piece of parchment and beginning to read from it. “His imperial highness, his grace, his excellency, her royal majesty, the King of Hearts, and the Knave of Hearts.” Midoriya, Bakugou, and Denki all got down onto their knees (though Bakugou seemed far more reluctant). YN glanced at them, and then got onto her knees as well and shoved her nose into the grass. The White Rabbit shuffled to the side and rolled his eyes (YN realised, peaking up, that they were two different colours) as another man stepped into view. He had a completely smug grin on his face and blonde hair that was flat and oddly natural. His blue eyes scanned over the flowers, before slowly sauntering over to the roses. Paint still dripped down from them, and YN paled at the thought of what the Red King was going to do. If these three were so freaked out, then what was his usual reaction? “Ah, yes...the red royal roses.” He whispered, caressing the roses gently in his hands. He brought it up to his nose, took a deep breath, and pulled away again. Abruptly, he ripped it off of the tree and threw it onto the ground, angrily stomping on it with his foot. “Then why the hell are they painted?!” He howled, turning to the trio. “Who the hell painted my roses red?!” “It was Deku!” Bakugou’s head snapped up, barking with a vigor. “It’s was all him!” “Midoriya, you say?” “N-no, Your Majesty! It w-was...Denki! Sorry, Denki.” “Huh?” Denki looked up, quirking his head. “But I thought it was Bakugou who said to paint them?” “Enough!” The Red King bit, stomping his foot again. “Off with their heads!” YN paled, looking up with wide eyes. Several knights stepped forward and started dragging the three off, with only Bakugou spitting and kicking the whole way down. YN was left alone in front of this menace, and she felt her blood cool. “And what’s this?” The Red King looked down at YN with a sneer before snapping his fingers. “Knave!” “Y-y-yes, King Monoma.” From behind several knights, a young man scampered out. Instantly, he felt different from the others; he was meek, holding himself close and almost shuffling out of sight. He skittered up to YN and knelt, gently tilting her chin up to look her in the eyes. His own were a stunning shade of indigo, dark and almost black. Tufts of similar hair poked out from under his helmet, framing his face and making him look...well, beautiful. He seemed to be glowing under the eternal afternoon sun, and he blinked softly. “Oh.” He murmured, eyes wide and pleading. “Y-you’re…” “Well?” The Red King huffed, crossing his arms. “Get on with it!” “Sh-she’s a girl, sir! Your Majesty, sir!” The Knave jumped up like he was burned, hands snapping to his side and looking terrified. “A human girl!” “Oh?” The Red King leaned down to YN, raising his eyebrow and smirking. “Well hello, there.” “Hello, uh...your majesty.” “She’s a quick learner!” He grinned, though it felt horribly malicious. “Get up, my dear.” YN got to her feet as quickly and gracefully as possible, making it her one goal to survive. The Cheshire Cat cackled in an echo, and YN felt tempted to spit some insult at him, but knew that it would only land her in trouble. “Follow me, my dear.” The Red King waved his sceptre lackadaisically, beginning to move through the gardens. YN started trotting after him, noting that he seemed like a complete control freak-and that even stepping ahead of him would be dangerous. The Knave caught up with both of them, glancing at YN out of the corner of his eye every couple of seconds. YN glanced back, trying to make sure that her head was on a swivel, before looking ahead when the Red King started talking about something mundane. Meanwhile, Tamaki was having a stroke. He hated his job. He hated being looked at. He hated being told what to do, hated that he was a glorified butler, hated that his best friends were scattered across Wonderland. But this was the first time in...too long that he’d seen another actual human being that wasn’t completely cruel. This young woman seemed sensible, though, and seemed to restrain herself from something stupid. She held herself with a certain grace that Tamaki hadn’t seen in a long, long time. “Knave!” Monoma barked, spinning around. “Stop zoning out, before you lose your head!” “S-s-sorry,” Tamaki whispered, bowing his head and fiddling with his fingers. Monoma lowered his eyes in disdain, but let it go in favour of pointing to the castle. “Give our sweet guest a room, Knave.” Monoma lowered his eyes, and Tamaki realised with a chill that Monoma had crueller intentions. No one was ever allowed into the guest rooms of the castle unless they were going to be executed, or worse-assassinated. Why Monoma wanted to kill this sweet, King-abiding young woman, Tamaki had no clue, but he shook and nodded his head sheepishly. “A-as you wish…” “As I wish…?” “Y-your majesty.” “Good dog,” Monoma smirked again, walking off as Tamaki bit the inside of his cheek. He hated this, hated the Red King, hated Wonderland. And this poor girl was going to be killed because, what, Monoma just didn’t like her? It was a cruel world that Tamaki lived in, and a crueller fate for the young woman. “You’re Tamaki.” Tamaki jumped out of his skin at the woman’s soft tone. Her tense demeanour had melted away, leaving her gently smiling at him. “How…?” “You look like someone I know.” She looked ahead, rocking her hands a bit. “And you remind me of him a lot. Actually, everyone here is very familiar. The Red King, the White Rabbit, the Cheshire Cat...you.” “R-really?” Tamaki felt his heartstrings being pulled almost dramatically, and a flush overtook his face. “Yeah!” The young woman chirped. “Oh...I suppose here, you don’t know my name. I’m YN.” “YN…” Tamaki tested it on his tongue, and he could almost feel it rolling around in his mouth and on his tongue like a delicate sweet. It made warmth surge through him, and something in his gut twitched. It made him feel warm, flooding through him like good memories. He stopped in his tracks, feeling like he was on fire before he gasped. “Huh?” YN stopped and turned around, tilting her head. “Are you okay?” “Y-you…” Every cell in Tamaki’s body screamed out for him not to hurt her. No, she was something far more than just a woman. She was someone that brought him comfort even then, in the Red King’s gardens, where the rest of Wonderland couldn’t even touch them. It was them against the world. “Wait.” Tamaki turned around, making sure that there were no new cards slinking around nearby. YN raised her eyebrow and gave him a curious look, tilting her head. “Is something wrong?” “Come with me.” Tamaki felt a strange surge of confidence through him, holding his hand for YN to take. “If you stay here, you’ll be k-killed.” “What?” YN’s eyes went wide, and she took his hand. He began to run through the maze, knowing every twist and turn like the back of his hand. The evergreen hedges folded into pale bushes, and then into red grass that he missed so dearly. In the distance, he heard Monoma yelling for him, but for once, he didn’t listen. He kept on running, booking it for the edge of the woods until the sky was consumed by trees and the mome raths scattered at the sound of their pounding feet. YN was panting behind him, doing her best to keep up, but he finally skittered to a halt before a great wall. It was the edge of Wonderland, at the very border of the Red King’s land. He turned to YN. “I can get you past here. From there, you can get home safely.” “What’s going on?” YN’s eyes were wide, confused and alert. “We all know you, YN.” Tamaki sighed, feeling an incredible sense of melancholy and nostalgia come over him. “I don’t know how...but we do. And you can’t stay here.” “I…” YN tensed, and Tamaki knew why. She had no reason to trust him. He was just a complete stranger that said he knew her, even though he technically didn’t. There was no reason that she should do anything with him, even if-YN smiled, and Tamaki froze. His heart roared in his ears, and the flush on his cheeks came back tenfold. The world was spinning around her like she was the sun, and Tamaki let out a nervous laugh. Nervous? What was more nervous than nervous? That’s what he was. He was stone in front of this goddess, and he could only shuffle his feet. “Y-you should go before Monoma realises that we’re...yanno…” “Right.” YN nodded, looking over the wall before walking over to it. She pressed her hand to it, and there was a breezy laugh over her shoulder. “Now, now, YN.” The Cheshire Cat started reclining on her shoulder, moving his hands to wrap around her shoulders. “Isn’t it lovely here? I’m sure that the Red King just wanted you to stay the night~” “Shut up, dumb cat.” YN bit, and pressed her hand into the wall. A door appeared out of nowhere, swinging open, and Tamaki sighed. YN turned back to him, giving him a shy smile. “Stay safe, ok?” “I-I will!” Tamaki jumped, his hands snapping to his side. YN lingered through the doorway, like she wasn’t quite ready to leave. Tamaki glanced around, unsure what she was waiting for. “I...I don’t think I’d be able to tell you this in real life.” YN looked down, eyes flickering across the dirt. “But I like you. A lot.” Tamaki jumped. “Wh-what?!” “I guess, since this isn’t real…” YN paused. “Right?” “Oh.” Tamaki only felt confused and could barely make two words. “What?” “This is…oh, nevermind.” YN took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders as the Cheshire Cat slinked off. “Goodbye, Tamaki.” She walked through, and Tamaki saw a light.

Tamaki woke up on his desk and had a heart attack.

He jumped up, hoping he didn’t attract too much attention from the rest of his class. Oddly enough, though, only Mirio, Neijre, and YN were in the room. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, and Tamaki felt instant mortification. “There he is!” Mirio smiled brightly at him, waving. “Have a good nap?” “Y-you let me sleep!” Tamaki paled, feeling ready to drip out of his seat and onto the floor. YN turned and smiled softly. “You deserve it.” “Yeah! And it sounded like you were having a good dream!” Nejire giggled. “You were smiling and bright red!” “I-I was?! Oh, god!” Tamaki’s hands rushed to his face, slapping his cheeks in hopes of willing the flush down. He felt sick to his stomach; did he say anything in his sleep? Did YN know? Was it weird? “C’mon, Tama.” YN rose and placed a gentle hand on Tamaki’s back. “We should head to our dorms before it gets too late.” Tamaki’s head snapped up as Mirio and Neijre began walking out the door. YN waited next to him, soft eyes on him. He felt like the world was slowed to a stop. YN was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and the gentle way that she looked at him made his heart race. He loved her for the longest time, and no matter what, she always managed to make him into goo.

He supposed his crush was like a rabbit hole, and he was still falling.

#tamaki x reader #wonderland au #fuckin christ this took me forever #bnha x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader

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selfawarejester · 4 years ago

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triskele (j.t x c.h)

prologue (burn, baby, burn!) - cora

— Warnings: character death, vague descriptions of a corpse.

— Pairing: Jason Todd (DC Comics) x Cora Hale (Teen Wolf) [not in this part, can be read as standalone]

— Notes: Starting off the series with angst! This is promising. *evil smirk* Ah, yes, the Cora backstory and my interpretation of the Hale fire (because TW didn’t feel the need to elaborate on one of the most important, if not the most, events in the show.) Everyone who showed interest before is getting tagged below — hope you enjoy! I’m always open to feedback, so hit me up!

She remembers burning flesh most vividly.

Cora only left for an hour, going on a jog to cool off. Her mother had been furious about a fight she’d gotten in at school, but that guy was a jerk!

“He was picking on that asthmatic kid: McCall something! Did you really want me to just let that happen?” She yelled, stomping into the living room. The dark haired man on the couch eyed the two over the top of his newspaper before going back to it. Guess Uncle Peter’s not going to be of much help.

Talia sighed, doing that two-fingers-to-her-temple thing she hated. “Stopping a bully and tossing him into a locker are not the same thing.”

Cora frowns, crossing her arms as she drops her glare to the floor. “I only meant to shove him aside.” She bites out.

The front door slams, and a sullen teenage boy bearing an annoying resemblance to the woman in front of her walks in, freezing when his eyes fall on them.

“Is this about Cora beating up that 7th grader?” She squeezes her eyes shut as Talia groans, covering her eyes with both hands (and she swears she can hear Peter chortle) — there’s no way she’s getting out of this now.

“You heard about that too, cacchoro?” Talia asks, an equally exasperated and incredulous edge to her tone. Derek just chuckles, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“Oh no… I’m not getting caught in this. Besides, I have to meet up with the guys anyways.” He tosses his schoolbag on the couch, dangerously close to Peter – who hisses under his breath – and ignores the pointed looks his mother and sister send him. “See ya, mom! Good luck, Cor!”

“…stop snarling at me, Peter.” And walks out, slamming the door again.

She rolls her eyes — he’s absolutely useless, as usual.

“Mom-“ Talia interrupts her, holding up a hand.

“You’re grounded, mi corazón. End of discussion.”

“But I have soccer this weekend-!” Cora waves her arms, face burning but Talia just shushes her again.

“No arguments. Go to your room.” She growls, fuming as she stormed upstairs. And after waiting for all of three minutes, leaps out the window and running for the main road.

Run, run, keep running!

It feels good to stretch her legs, without having slow down for the human kids. It’s just her, the forest and the wind whipping her hair around. She keeps at it until her calves pleasantly sting and she’s panting.

Maybe I should get home — it’s getting pretty late, and mom is only going to get angrier then. It’ll be worse if dad gets there before me.

The route back to Hale House isn’t an actual path, per say, but every wolf in Beacon Hills knows it by heart. Of course they did: Talia Hale was the Alpha, after all. Any time one of the packs from out of town, they had to come and pay their respects to the leader. In its own way, it’s pretty beaten down — the kind of minor differences that only a wolf could discern.

“Burn, baby, burn!” She hears someone yell, laughing, and the sheer malice that accompany the words stop her in her tracks. Someone else nervously skitters about, and someone else has already started running away.

“M-miss, we need to leave.” She hears him speak softly – is someone… groaning in the background? — while the woman who was laughing slowly calms down to a few chuckles. Cora stumbles forward, carefully and quietly, her heartbeat hammering in her ears. “T-the police are probably on their way already.”

“Right, right, heh heh.” Finally, Cora can place that voice, the voice that would haunt her nightmares for years to come. Kate, that girl that used to hang out with Derek. Her blood runs cold in her veins as that smell fills her nostrils, and she has to clench her jaw to keep from her lips quivering, the sob from escaping as her imagination turns on her.

She almost trips and falls directly into the light when she makes it to the clearing she called home, feeling like someone punched a hole into her chest and squeezed as she watches the flames rage.

The other guy has fled, and now it’s just Kate and some hunters behind her, lounging against their cars, talking and laughing like they’re at a picnic, watching fireworks instead of her family burning.

She slaps her hand to her mouth, tears flooding from her eyes. Her legs shake, and all she wants to do is scream, to fall and cry for her mother, whose blackened body is in their main doorway, reaching outwards.

The pain and fear still hang in the air, even though her family is dead, mingling with her own. She thinks she can hear someone’s wretched heaving, but that might be just her. She can’t feel anyone, all of her pack bonds are shattered, what should she do, what should she do-?

“Hey!” Her heart stops and she scrambled away, feeling like her head was going to explode. “Did you see something there?”

Run, run, keep running!

Her lungs are about to tear apart as she sprints away at full speed, checking over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t chasing.

Coward. You’re leaving them behind, you left them alone, you should’ve been there-

You should’ve been with them.

She shakes her head, sobbing but never stopping. No, just keep running, get away, survive.

It’s an odd feeling, she’d notice later through the numbness of grief — in the guest room of her mother’s friend Satomi, who found her feral and out of her mind in the next town over and whisked her to safety, wherever — the feeling of letting go, of letting your humanity slip and your primal, base instincts take over. Satomi said it was natural for a wolf her age, especially after the trauma she’d faced.

Cora wasn’t particularly complaining. Those instincts were what allowed her to survive for a week in the wild, scavenging, hunting, escaping. Still, she couldn’t get rid of that little voice in her head, relatively quiet compared to the screaming loss inside but consistently agonizing, that insisted that she was only a coward who cared about her own skin, a coward that left her family when they needed her most.

A coward who had a fight with her mom. Who didn’t even bother to say goodbye to her father that morning. Who was fighting with Laura over a board game instead of telling her she’d miss her when she went back to college. Who, in her last time at home, wrote a note to Derek to inform him she was going for a run that addressed him as “Jerkwad.”

She presses the pillow to her face and wails.

taglist (tell me if you want to be removed or added): @catxsnow @i-lovehufflepuff3000 @theconfusedpansexualbitch @lesbian-arsonists-united @brooklynnboys @nannna003 @capttain-emo @klutzydelusionprincess @victoriagraeca @fuzzycookietacopeach @emma-for-now @disnerd262 @sheimagineddragons

#cora hale #teen wolf #hale fire #peter hale #derek hale #talia hale #laura hale #papa hale #gabiwrites #jason todd x cora hale #jayra #don’t worry our boy Jason’s getting his own bout of angst next #would a Jason Todd fic be a Jason Todd fic without getting into his traumatizing death at the hands of a psycho clown? No #no it would not #i’ll make up for it later I promise

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corpse--diem · 4 years ago

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Snick Snack Paddy Whack | Ben & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @professorbcampbell & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: Erin pays a visit to an old high school acquaintance. Some crushes die hard. So do snicker-snackers. CONTENT WARNINGS: none

Morgan’s classroom was empty when she arrived, save for the few students that lingered after her afternoon lecture. Her things were still at the desk, meaning her undead friend was here somewhere, likely having stepped out for a few minutes. “You don’t know where Professor Beck went, by any chance?” Erin asked one of the girls who was leaving as she lingered in the doorway.

“I think she mentioned something about grabbing some materials from the library?” The student shrugged, nothing but nonplussed in her demeanor.

Perfect. Not that she didn’t want to see her friend but it was just enough time to slip out unnoticed. Erin nodded her thanks and set the tupperware container and note on her desk. She hadn’t planned on staying long regardless but she wasn’t about to use Morgan without at least leaving a brainy treat behind as quiet thanks (even if she didn’t know it). “Can you tell me where Professor Campbell’s classroom is?”

The young woman’s directions led her down a short walk through the campus. It was hard to tell if class was clearing out or just starting by the thin trickle of students moving in and out of the room but Erin’s eyes could only focus on one thing. Ben Campbell. Suddenly, she was fifteen again, knees weak and tongue heavy in her mouth while her brain struggled to catch up around her. This was dumb. Without much more than her job to occupy her these days, her free time was abundant and curiosity (and other things) had led her to this doorway. This was about as far as her planning had gotten her. When she realized she’d been standing in the doorway far too long, watching some of the last few students reluctantly leave themselves, she cleared her throat and slapped on what she prayed was a less awkward smile. “Ben? Ben Campbell? Is that you?”

“Alright, that about wraps it up for today. Excellent discussion, I highly recommend bringing some of the topics we discussed into your essays. Remember, drafts are due in a week and a half. Have a good one.” Ben said with a nod and a smile. A few of his more studious pupils remained and he answered their questions patiently, but as he glanced around the lecture hall, he realized there was an unexpected guest in the back of the room. A woman, somewhat familiar-- he couldn’t quite place her. As he dismissed the last few curious students, he slid his hands into the pockets of his pressed dress pants and smiled, “That I am. And,” As he neared her, Ben realized just why she looked familiar. Erin. Nichols. Of the failed funeral home. They’d been talking recently, after he’d returned from his brief break off social media. “Erin! It’s good to see you. What brings you to campus?” He asked, intrigued.

He remembered her? Erin’s expression perked up, even if she hated that she realized Ben Campbell simply acknowledging her had that effect on her. “It’s good to see you too,” she grinned, taking a few bold steps into the room. When was the last time she’d seen him properly? It was a small town, and on the occasion they inevitably bumped into one another or cast a glance at community gatherings. She became painfully aware she’d never been alone in a room with him until just now. “I was just visiting Morgan--Morgan Beck. She’s a good friend of mine. I was on my way back to work before I remembered you guys taught in the same department.” She cringed internally at herself for the thousandth time. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to pop by and say hi, if you weren’t busy.” She stiffened and glanced around at the emptying lecture hall. “You’re not busy, I hope?”

Pulling his glasses free, Ben listened to her as he tucked them back into the soft case and blinked as though the transition was a bit of a strain on his eyes. But, it was a gesture, just as most of what he did was. He didn’t need glasses, there wasn’t even a prescription on the lenses. It just helped him look the part. And that was what he was doing, after all. Playing the part. At the mention of Morgan Beck, Ben kept his expression neutral, though inside a hint of irritation boiled up. Bitchy fucking Beck. That woman was such a pain. “Ah, yes! Yes, she’s an adjunct with the department, but we’ve interacted at meetings and such. Wonderful woman, excellent teacher from what I’ve heard.” Well suited for all of those budding future writers/baristas, he thought privately. “How did you know I taught for the department, though? I don’t remember mentioning what courses I taught.” He asked, though as he watched the way she seemed to brighten up and look at him, he had a feeling he knew the answer. “Oh no, not at all. This was my last class of the day.”

Erin stared longer than what was probably socially acceptable as Ben made a small show of removing his glasses. Part of her wondered if it was intentional, and another part of her would normally be rolling her eyes, but the part of her brain that had reverted back to 2003 really didn’t care. “Oh yeah, she’s brilliant. Just don’t ask too many questions if you don’t have an hour to spare,” Erin teased lightly, crossing her arms over her chest, eyes flitting anxiously from Ben to different areas of the room. Fuck. She really should have thought this through a little more. She could plot the demise of an evil crime lord but she couldn’t fucking figure out how to talk to Benjamin Campbell. It was quiet for a moment, and she wasn’t sure if it was her anxiety clawing at the walls of her mind or actually scratching, but she moved on without much though. “I just… guessed,” she fumbled for a moment, shrugging nonchalantly. “Morgan said you worked with her so I figured you were all somewhere in the same realm.” She took a long breath and found her feet moving more confidently towards Ben. “Oh, good,” she smiled again, tilting her head. “So that means I can bother you for as long as I’d like now, right?”

Watching the way she looked from him to the room and back to him, Ben couldn’t help but smile. Oh, she must have been one of those girls in high school. He didn’t remember her much, but through a little bit of browsing on Facebook and the town’s messageboard system, he’d been able to pick up on some things. He hadn’t been lying when he mentioned that he had gone to basketball games-- he had, mostly because it had been a good place to build a good rapport with some of his classmates, get them to trust him, that sort of thing. But, he hadn’t remembered her much. She was just another face in the crowd. But, it seemed she had been one of the girls who’d been rather smitten by him and had managed to escape him before graduation. With a laugh, he nodded, “I can understand that. Get me started on Roman architecture and I can do the exact same thing.” He replied, though it pained him to even draw the most minute comparison between himself and Beck. “Well, what a lucky guess for me.” Ben said with a grin as she approached him. “By all means, bother away.” He said as he retrieved his attache case from where it sat by the lectern.

Just as he was about to turn his attention back to Erin, a flicker of motion flashed in the corner of his eye. Ben frowned, his forehead creasing as he stared at a spot in the wall of the lecture hall. He could have sworn that-- “Did you happen to see something over there?” Ben asked, pointing to the spot where he could see something moving inside the wall.

God, with everything in her, Erin prayed she didn’t look nearly as aloof as she felt right now. This trip had probably been a mistake. She should’ve waited around for Morgan to return, chat with her friend over the deviled cow brain eggs she’d made her, and went on her way rather than feed the flame to some schoolgirl crush she had over twenty years ago. She had way too much time on her hands lately, and the shy, excited grin that followed his words did nothing but prove any of that right. “Lucky for the both of us, honestly,” she agreed with a tilt of her head. She’d just rested against the side of a nearby table when his attention perked forward. God damn it. Her eyes eventually moved from the concentrated look on his face to the source of the scratching. She heard it. Saw it too, when the paint cracked along the spot of the wall. “What the--” she started, standing at alert now. “I see that, yeah,” she answered, wondering if this was a sign she should’ve just. Stayed. Home. Despite her better instincts, she was moving towards it, curiosity peaked. The scratching and rustling grew louder and louder. Something--many somethings--were rushing through the wall. The wall groaned and creaked as she timidly approached it, gesturing with a hand for him to follow. “Shit, it sounds like you have a whole herd living here. You might want to call some--” A furry brown spot whizzed by her feet and she yelped, startling backwards with little grace. “Oh fuck no. Nope. This was--I gotta go.”

As Ben continued to stare at the wall with confusion, he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going on here. He prided himself in knowing this university-- this town even-- like the back of his hand. It was his domain, how dare something infringe upon his space. “A herd?” He asked. For a moment, he opened his mouth to correct her. A herd was a term typically used for large, four legged creatures; this was more like a pack or perhaps a mischief. But, before he could, the aforementioned mischief made itself known by hurtling out of a crack in the wall. First one, then another, and another. Until there was suddenly a crumbling, gaping hole in the plaster. “What in the--” Ben said, jumping back with a start. He held his case tightly in his hand and smacked at one of the furry brown animals that skittered towards him. The tiny ratlike thing bounced off the side of his leather bag and hit the wall, though at least a dozen more poured out of the ever-widening gap. “Oh my Lord.” He muttered as he watched his lecture hall begin to fill with a mass of furry, squeaking rodents. “Yes, running-- running seems wise.” He said before stumbling backwards. As he moved, one of the panels in the floor gave way underneath his shoe and Ben let out a loud curse. “What are these things?”

The thunderous sound of what looked like hundreds of tiny, skittering creatures pouring into the lecture hall overwhelmed the room. Erin wanted to say rats but they didn’t fit the typical description. Rats didn’t have horns. They swarmed by her feet, despite how quickly she was trying to get away, and she found out after her high heels cracked underneath her, these things also had strong, quick teeth. Her heels were gnawed to ribbons and she abandoned the shoes completely, grumbling curses in her panic. “Are you okay?” she shouted above the noise, watching him struggle on her way towards the door. The impact of whatever the hell these things were was clear as every wooden thing they touched started to give way. The door to the lecture hall opened. The early, unsuspecting student’s eyes were glued to his phone until one of the rodents dropped from the ceiling, sending him flying back out of the room. Her jaw set tightly as they rushed by her feet, the little pricks of sharp teeth nipping at her ankles. She jumped up onto one of the metal legged tables circling the room, using what was left of her shoe to push the creatures back. It took about one swift, hard smack but they met bloody ends as easily as they came. She looked back at the stairs, the floors completely covered in a mass of moving fur, then at the desks leading back up towards the door. “Looks like we’re climbing,” she glanced back at him, squashing another one as it came towards her, blood squirting out from under her shoe from all sides.

Waving his case back and forth around him, Ben grimaced as blood splattered across the polished leather. He could handle blood on his suit, that wasn’t a problem. But this was Italian leather. Glancing up at Erin, he saw that she was handling herself just as well as he was. Other than the fact she didn’t have her foot stuck halfway through the floor. With a grunt, Ben lashed out with his case, clearing a small patch of floor for him to pull himself up. As he did so, he could feel teeth latching onto his legs, his hands, his arms. “Vermin!” He spat, shaking them off as he hurried towards the door. “Oh, I’m doing just fine.” He said over the chittering, squeaking sounds around them. When his Lord Hrvsht’ooooor rose to the earth, Ben would have to make a note of these particular nuisances. At Erin’s words, he caught her meaning. “So it would seem.” He said before jumping up on top of the desk. Blood and matted fur covered the soles of his shoes as he did his best to climb after her, his arms and legs stinging from the bite marks. “Awful, vile little cretins.” He muttered as they hurried up towards the exit. So close, but so, so far.

Erin probably should have helped him out of the hole but with no shoes and nothing really to protect herself, handsome or not, the guy was one his own. Thankfully he took her cue and followed behind her, and as she used his to steady herself, she internally grumbled about dressing up as she hiked her dress up and leapt from one row of desks to another. Whatever these things were, they weren’t rats. They weren’t anything anyone was going to find in a textbook somewhere in this university. Just another White Crest brand of things that shouldn’t exist but do, huh? As far as she could tell, these things weren’t trying to kill them. Nibbling nuisances for sure but by the sheer amount of them, they’d have been gnawed down to the bone by now if that was the case. She hoped, anyway. But there it was--the exit. The door was cracked open, enough to allow a small trickle of them to slip out and into the hallways, but it had kept them mostly inside. A river of rodents flowed through the aisle between them. The final barrier between them and their way out. She groaned loudly. “Of fucking course.” She glanced down at Ben’s shoes, tattered and bloodstained, grabbing onto his very muscular arm and pulled what was left of her heels back onto her feet. “I’m going to be sending the university a strongly worded letter after this, I hope you know,” she tried to joke but much of the humor in her laugh was pure annoyance. She raised a brow. “We’ll jump on 3?”

Jumping from desk to desk, Ben left a trail of blood and fur behind him as he continued to stomp and smack at the vicious little creatures that seemed to be hell-bent on eating their way through the room. Kicking another out of the way, he watched as the horned rat creature careened through the air and back into the writhing swarm. As he and Erin converged on the last desk, he held still for her to catch hold of his arm. Irritating, honestly, the way she was clinging to him, but he didn’t think there was anything for it. “You know, I’d be happy to sign off on that. Give some credence,” He paused, smacking another rat creature away, “what with being faculty and all.” With a nod, Ben counted, “One, two, three.” With that, he leaped forward and made a mad dash towards the door, pulling Erin along with him.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Erin nodded with a huff. Most of her attention was fixed on what path to take when they hit 3. There wasn’t a good answer there. She’d never seen an infestation like this--there was more horned rodents than carpet visible, and when they leapt, floor and bone alike crunched beneath their feet, blood splashing up at their ankles. But they’d done it--they were spilling out into the hallway and Erin slammed her shoulder up against the door with some effort, the final shrieks of those rat-like creatures meeting their end as the door shut on them. Futile, probably. They had burrowed through walls and floors alike. A door wouldn’t stop them, but it kept some distance between her and them temporarily. She didn’t stop moving, even as her lungs heaved for breath, broken shoes clacking down the empty hallway. A few still scurried by their feet, scaring off unsuspecting students and faculty. Glancing back only to see if Ben was following her, swiping at her arms and legs as if they were still crawling along her skin. “Still in one piece?” she asked, noticing his once polished demeanor was a little more moth-bitten bargain bin chic than before. Not that she had much room to talk. She shook her head, stopping only when they’d put some distance between them and the lecture hall. “What the fuck were those things?”

As soon as they were in the hallway, Ben fumbled with his key and locked the door in a futile effort to keep those things at bay. He knew it wouldn’t help, they’d emerged from the walls, for goodness sake. But it was better than having the plague of furry, ravenous beasts coming after them. Erin was already running down the hallway and he ran to catch up with her, blood squelching under his shoes and his curly hair falling in his face. Tilting his head down a corridor, he replied, “I think so. I wish I could say the same for my case.” He said, looking down at the raggedly bitten corner of his bag. “Are you alright?” He asked, remembering that he should probably pretend to care about her well being. He gave her a once over-- she seemed to be in better shape than him, less bitten if only because she hadn’t gotten stuck in the floor. “I haven’t the slightest idea. I’ve never seen anything like that before.” He said with a baffled expression on his face. “Have you?” He asked, curious. She’d reacted… rather well, all things considered.

Erin had never seen anything like that exactly, though comparatively, they were practically harmless to the more gruesome things she had gone up against. She probably should have looked more upset or bewildered than what Ben was surely expecting but she was just--pissed. It was no secret that this town or the mysteries of it were getting to her. Not that Ben was privy to any of that information, or deserved any of the anger it brought up. “No,” she shook her head, resting her back against a wall, letting the coolness of the brick calm her frustrations. Deep breaths helped too. “I mean, I’m fine. My shoes? Not so much, but otherwise--no, I’ve never seen a rat look like that before,” she answered and shook her head, shook her head, reaching down to inspect the damage. The heels had been chewed down to nubs. Great. She tossed them into the trash bin beside her once she decided they’d be more of a hindrance on her way to the car than a help. “If you’re good, I’m gonna go shower for about a thousand hours now and pray I didn’t just catch twenty new variations of rabies.” She ran a hand through her hair, pushing off the wall, debating on whether or not to stop by Morgan’s classroom again or just tuck her tail between her legs and run home. She paused for a moment in the hall, that last trickle of hope layered in with maybe a trace of teenage desperation still coursing alongside the adrenaline in her veins. “Raincheck on the whole me bothering you thing? Maybe?” She raised an eyebrow, cringing slightly even as she said it.

There was a strange expression on Erin’s face, one Ben was annoyed that he couldn’t quite read. She hadn’t reacted as poorly as some of the students he’d introduced to the darker side of this world had, and he’d always started off small. No sense in putting their fragile minds before the full might of his Lord when they could barely handle a caged brownie. Erin had reacted in a similar way to him-- attack and then flee when it became clear it was a losing battle. Wiping at a streak of blood that ran down his chin, Ben nodded and watched her toss her shoes away. “Pity about the outfit, it suited you. Before, well,” He gestured to his own ragged suit, the hem of his pants in tatters. “All of that.” With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to set it back in place, but brown locks hung limply against his forehead. “That sounds like an excellent idea, I’d best do the same.” Ben said. At her last words, though, he couldn’t help but smile. So she was still interested in him, hm? Intriguing. He’d love to pick her brain, see just how much she really knew. Pulling out a pen from his pocket, Ben reached for her hand gently and wrote his number on her palm. “Call me sometime. Perhaps over coffee, next time.” He said with a chuckle.

Erin froze in her spot when he came closer. Why was he coming closer? Her face flushed red when he took her hand and for a moment she completely forgot where she was--forgot they’d just run from a stampede of supernatural looking rats, or that she wasn’t even wearing shoes or that her feet and ankles were bleeding all over the university hallways. Something hideously close to a giggle erupted from her as he etched the numbers into her skin. Oh, he was definitely smooth. Her? Not so much. “Coffee, yeah.” She cleared her throat, trying to stop the frantic static waves in her brain from cutting off her ability to speak. “I’ll do that.” She managed those three words with more of a struggle than she’d ever admit. Another giggle-like laugh slipped from her throat and she wanted to stab herself in the eye with that very pen. Damn it. He knew. There was no way he didn’t. She didn’t trust herself with words anymore at this point, instead opting to give a small wave as she backtracked out of the hallway. Gave a quiet yelp and hurried apology as she nearly smacked right into a student on their way to class, before booking it the hell out of there.

#chatzy #chatzy: ben #snick snack paddy whack #wickedswriting

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ominousunflower · 5 years ago

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(toi)let me in

Written for the APS server’s first birthday! Thank y’all for creating such an amazing and fun space.

Summary: One lesson Adrien Agreste should have learned by now: Never ask what are the odds when you have the luck of a black cat.

Rating: G Word count: 1767

Read on AO3

__________________________________________

Adrien Agreste is wide awake.

He’s been lying in Marinette’s loft bed for ten minutes now, one arm slung over Marinette and his chin tucked against her shoulder, sure that if he just waits, he’ll fall back asleep.

This isn’t the first time that he’s sneaked into her room as Chat Noir and slept beside her. In fact, ever since they found out each other’s identities two weeks ago and started dating, it’s fairly commonplace.

It is, however, the first time he’s woken up desperately having to go to the bathroom.

He doesn’t want to disturb her, and what’s more, he doesn’t really want to risk going downstairs. What if someone sees him? The chances are slim, but then, Adrien’s never had the best luck.

Adrien groans and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore the ache in his bladder. It’s no use, though: despite the grogginess in his head, he can’t fall back asleep, and there’s no way he’s going to last until morning.

With a sigh, he eases the covers back and crawls out from under them. As he does, Marinette mumbles and rolls over to face him, her fingers tugging at his shirt sleeve.

“Where’re you going?” she asks, words slurred by sleep.

“Bathroom,” Adrien whispers. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be right back.”

He smooths back her bangs and kisses her forehead, then crawls to the foot of the bed and descends the ladder. Walking lightly so that the floor doesn’t creak, he crosses to the trapdoor and opens it ever-so-slightly.

Holding his breath, Adrien listens for the sound of voices or footsteps below.

Silence greets him. Satisfied, Adrien eases the door open and lowers his body through it.

He can get there and back in less than a minute. The chances that either one of Marinette’s parents will also decide to go to the bathroom in the forty-five seconds it takes Adrien to pee—well, the chances are so low, in fact, that they might as well be nonexistent.

And so, moving as silently as his superhero namesake, Adrien creeps downstairs toward the Dupain-Cheng bathroom.

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

Tom Dupain awakes with a need.

He had a feeling he shouldn’t have chugged that bottle of water before bed, but what’s done is done; now he is awake in the middle of the night and forced to deal with the consequences.

With a heavy sigh, he rolls out of bed and drags himself to the bedroom door. Sabine’s quiet snores fill the room, assuring him that at least he hasn’t woken her up.

He opens the door and steps outside, moving as quietly as his weight will allow—and that’s when he sees a figure standing outside the bathroom door, frozen with its hands raised in surrender.

The stranger is too tall to be Marinette, but too small to be an adult. Nonetheless, adrenaline courses through Tom’s veins, and he takes a threatening step forward. “Who are you?” he asks. He reaches toward the wall and taps the light switch, bathing the room in dim amber light.

The stranger doesn’t say anything, but Tom’s question is answered: because standing in front of him, hair sticking up, eyes wide, is his daughter’s classmate Adrien Agreste.

“Adrien Agreste?” Tom says.

Knowing the intruder’s identity does not make things any clearer. Why is a teen idol who lives several blocks away standing outside Tom Dupain’s bathroom at three in the morning? Is this a dream? And if so, why is Tom dreaming about his daughter’s crush breaking into their apartment in the middle of the night?

“I, um…” Adrien’s eyes flick toward the kitchen window, almost as if he’s considering that as an escape route. “Our toilet is broken.”

Tom stares at him, not sure he’s heard correctly. Maybe there’s too much wax in his ears again. “What did you say?”

“Our…toilet broke, so…I came here?”

As the parent of a fourteen year-old, Tom Dupain is well-acquainted with teenagers and their bizarre excuses. On a scale of one to ten, he ranks Adrien’s a three. While a broken toilet is not unheard of, there are too many holes in this story: how did Adrien get in, if their front door is locked and everyone is asleep? If Adrien lives in a mansion, shouldn’t his father be able to afford twenty-four-seven toilet fixing?

And the most unbelievable part of all, which is how Tom knows for a fact that Adrien is lying: there is no way the Agrestes only have one toilet in their house.

“How did your toilet break?” Tom asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Uh.” Adrien clears his throat. “Water…rabbits.”

“Water rabbits.”

“They’re not actually rabbits,” Adrien says. “They are bugs. That…eat metal. And toilets.”

Tom squints at him. Maybe this is a dream. Isn’t Adrien supposed to be at the top of his class? This excuse is so disappointing that Tom is tempted to call Adrien’s father, just to tell him that Adrien needs to work on his improvisation skills.

“Water not-rabbits ate your toilet, you say,” Tom says. “Do I look stupid to you, Adrien Agreste?”

“No!” Adrien says. “They just got in the pipes. And…” He grimaces. “Okay. I lied. I clogged the toilet.”

Ah. Tom was once a teenage boy who did not understand how to use toilet paper in moderation. He’ll give Adrien the benefit of the doubt, although two questions still remain. “And you only have one toilet in that big mansion of yours?”

“There’s something wrong with the tank in the downstairs one,” Adrien says, his voice steadier than before. “It overflows if you flush it, and we can’t get someone to look at it until tomorrow morning. There is another one in my father’s room, but I didn’t want to wake him up to tell him that I clogged the toilet. He’s gotten mad about smaller things.”

Tom’s stubborn parental streak rears its head, and he fights the urge to spontaneously adopt Adrien Agreste. He can’t do that, of course. After all, Marinette can’t date Adrien if Tom adopts him, and since Marichat doesn’t seem to be happening yet, he supposes Adrienette is the second-best option.

Of course, Tom knows Adrienette won’t last. Especially not if Adrien is the type of boy who breaks into people’s homes and attempts to surreptitiously uses their toilets.

Which brings Tom to his final question. “Why our toilet? And how did you get in?”

“Oh, um, well…” Adrien rubs the back of his neck. “I texted Marinette, and she was kind enough to let me in. And she didn’t see a need to wake you up, since she was sure you would say yes!” He smiles tightly, eyes wide. “Um. You would have said yes, right?”

“I would,” Tom says, leaning forward. Adrien cowers slightly, and it occurs to Tom that maybe his stature is a bit intimidating.

Good. Let all teenage boys (or girls) cower before him. Tom Dupain doesn’t need a shovel talk; his body will be the shovel talk.

“But where is she?” Tom asks. Adrien’s excuse is approaching an eight or nine on the scale, but some loose ends remain. “Why didn’t she wait down here with you? My daughter is responsible. She must have known this would look bad. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were…”

And then it hits Tom: it looks an awful lot like Marinette sneaked a boy into her room in the middle of the night.

OCCAM’S RAZOR, his mind booms.

Adrien flinches, and that’s all it takes for Tom’s Papa Senses to start tingling. “Adrien,” he says, his voice low. “Did my daughter—”

“No!” Adrien says. “No. Marinette would never do something like that. Neither would I! I—I’m not like that. I’ve never even seen Marinette’s room! Or, well, I have—but only once, when we practiced for that gaming tournament. Technically twice, since it was on TV that one time—”

“Where is she?” Tom repeats. He can practically feel his mustache trembling with suppressed fatherly rage.

“Oh! Right.” Adrien’s throat jumps as he swallows. “She just, uh, heard something skittering around upstairs, and thought it might be a mouse, so she went to—”

“There are mice in my bakery?” Tom bellows.

“No!” Adrien says. “Or, I mean, I don’t know. Maybe it was a squirrel!”

“That’s still a rodent!” Tom says. His concerns about Sabine’s sleep evaporate, and he turns to pound on their bedroom door. “Sabine! Wake up! There are rodents in our bakery!”

“Maybe there aren’t!” Adrien says. “It’s probably cockroaches—no, wait! Dust mites! I’m sure it’s just dust mites. I’m sure if you had enough of them they could make some noise—um, actually, could we continue this conversation after I’ve gone to the bathroom, please?”

And then a familiar figure appears at the bottom of the stairs, yawning as she tugs at one of her pigtails. “Adrien,” she says, “when are you coming back up? You’ve been gone for more…than…” She trails off, eyes widening as they focus on Tom.

Tom feels like his eyes are glowing red, and judging by the look on Adrien’s face, they very well might be. “You were upstairs, were you, Adrien? That’s strange. There’s not an entrance to our house upstairs.”

Adrien’s eyes dart to the bathroom door, then to Tom, then to Marinette—then, again, to the window for some reason. His hand creeps toward the bathroom door, fingers curled to clutch the knob.

“Don’t you dare,” Tom says.

Adrien pauses, hand lightly grasping the handle.

Tom glowers at him, a low growl building in his throat.

“Adrien,” Marinette squeaks. “Please don’t leave me to explain this by myse—”

“I’m sorry!” Adrien yelps. Fast as lightning, he wrenches the door open and ducks inside.

Tom lunges forward, hand grabbing the knob—but it’s too late. He hears the tell-tale click from the other side as Adrien locks himself in the bathroom, and the knob refuses to twist.

“You can’t hide in there forever!” Tom says.

“Tom,” Sabine’s voice says, from behind him. “What’s going on? Did I hear you say something about rodents?”

“Rodents?” Marinette echoes.

In a desperate display of strength, Tom twists harder at the knob, and harder—until it pops right off the door with a cracking noise.

“Oh my god,” Marinette says. “You sealed him in.”

“He did what?” Adrien’s voice cries.

“Enjoy our toilet, Adrien Agreste,” Tom says, with his most menacing voice. He raises the door knob like a sword. “Enjoy it, because this is the last time I let you near my toilet—or my daughter—ever again.”

#ml fic #ml fanfiction #miraculous crack #miraculous ladybug #aps first anniversary #aps anniversary #aps events #technically adrienette #my fic

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sabraeal · 4 years ago

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We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 7

Written for @k-itsmaywriting as her prize for winning the Trope Madness kitty last March! I’d make the usual groaning noises about how late I am, but honestly...this is about as good as I could do this year XD

“So let me get this straight.” Obi’s long fingers steeple over his character sheet. “Not only is homeslice the lord of this particular castle and its whole dealie--”

“Demense,” Kiki offers.

“--Right, demense. That sounds fancy enough. So he’s not only the big wig of this demense place, but also--” her stomach curls to match the trajectory of his smirk-- “my lady’s boyfriend.”

“Ah! It’s not like that!” Shirayuki waves her hands, attempting to scuttle this whole avenue of inquiry. “He’s not-- we’re not-- together.” She dares a glance at Izana. “I...think?”

His mouth twitches; no comment. This may be presumptuous of me, one of his first texts reads, burning a hole in her pocket, but would you be open to a potential failed betrothal in your backstory?

There was no way for her to know, not when her only image of Zen’s older brother was a blond man behind a backseat window, waiting in the school parking lot, but still, still--

I’m open to whatever you think would go best, should not have been her answer. Every poster on r/tabletop would have called her...well, nothing polite, that’s for one.

“I mean, maybe...technically?” She’s not entirely sure how fourth century betrothals work, especially fantasy ones. “Lynet is under the impression that this was all dissolved for, ah...” Izana offers her a beatific smile, like an angel before it sets fire to a city. “...reasons.”

“But officially,” Obi presses, “he has dibs.”

Her mouth pulls flat. “I guess if you’re the sort of person who thinks you can call dibs on a sentient being with free will, yes.”

“Right,” Obi bulldozes on, oblivious to the pothole he’s hurtling toward, “and now he’s throwing you this banquet--”

“The banquet’s for all of us,” Zen snaps, arms cross and cheeks flushed. “As a reward for saving Laxdo.”

“Oh, is that right? As I remember it--” Obi taps his chin, so thoughtful-- “Lynet was the one who figured out the whole compulsion thing. And who was it that broke the curse? Oh, right: Lynet.”

“No!” Shirayuki claps her hands to her cheeks. It would be nice if she could take even a fictional compliment without blushing. “You all helped!”

“See?” Zen cuts a hand toward her, smug. “It’s for all of us.“

“Oh yes,” Kiki deadpans, teeth peeking out from her smirk. “Moral support is just as important as actually solving the puzzle. I’m sure his lordship agrees.”

Mitsuhide rubs at his chin, stubble scraping over his palm. Four hours ago, he arrived clean shaven; now he’s sporting a five o’clock shadow. Shirayuki can only stare in wonder.

“I think...they might have a point.” He winces under Zen’s scowl. “Not that I think we weren’t important! But Lord Shuuka...”

He shrugs. It’s like watching mountains heave, but in a gentle, lovable way.

Kiki’s mouth twitches. “I have the distinct impression we were afterthoughts on that banquet invitation.”

“I’m the Prince of all the Britons and the Angles!” Zen shrills, slapping his hand on the table. “I’m not an afterthought.”

The room goes suddenly,awkwardly silent; the only noise the rattle of heating through the ducts. The exactly moment his words echo back to him is made painfully clear by the way he blushes, blotchy and red all up and down his neck, like he’s the one with a curse.

Kiki’s eyebrow nearly collides with her hairline. “You mean Arturius?”

“That’s what I said,” Zen grumbles, hunching down in his seat. “Or at least what I meant.”

“In any case,” Obi presses on, “what’s a king to a cute girl you’re gonna marry--?”

“We’re not engaged.” It’s pointless; Obi’s clearly concerned less about Lynet’s marital status and more about riling Zen up about it, but still. “I mean, not now.”

“Betrothed,” Izana interjects casually, tapping the end of his pen on his notebook. “It is different. Legally.”

Shirayuki nibbles on her lip, stomach wriggling in a concerned squirm. Nothing good comes of Izana getting pedantic.

“Sure, maybe you’re not now,” Obi allows with a shrug of his shoulder. “But come on, what better place is there to woo a medieval maiden than a banquet?”

“A ball,” Kiki offers, flat, at the same time Mitsuhide thoughtfully posits, “A stroll through the garden.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zen snips, lifting his chin. “Shirayuki already said Lynet wasn’t interested.”

“Sure, sure. Hey, boss.” Obi pitches toward Izana with a smile that can only be described as looking for trouble. “How tall is this guy?”

For once, Izana seems flustered, eyelashes fluttering as he blinks down at his notes. “I’m sorry, come again?”

“This Shuuka dude. The lord here? The baron or whatever he is.” He rests his chin on his hand, smile sharpening into a feral grin. “How tall is he?”

“Ah...average, I suppose.” His brows knit, fingers shuffling through his papers. “There aren’t any good estimates of height for this era, but I suppose if you wanted a modern equivalent...five-ten? Five-eleven?”

“Really? You don’t say.” Obi cuts his smile toward Zen. “And just how tall are you, Your Highness?”

Shirayuki winces at the flush climbing Zen’s neck; if they’d been outside, she’d have suggested some aloe vera before the burn blistered. As it is...

Zen’s fingers crumple the edge of his sheet. “Arturius is six-one.”

Obi hums. “How interesting.”

It is a fine day at Laxdo; this autumn may still have a bite, but it’s crisp, refreshing after so many days in the confines of the great hall. A great hall that is now transformed, tables and benches populating it instead of the sick. Most of the afflicted now hobble about the grounds, slow and unsteady, but healing; the few still confined to their sickbeds are only the elderly and previously infirm, and your attentions are a boon to them still.

The manifest is in your hand now, the last few names in your care curling across the page. It is those men on your mind now as you sweep through Laxdo’s bright corridors, striding through the tiger stripes the sun leaves across the rushes. Your burden is light now that the castle’s healer is back on his feet, able to help with potions and poultices and whatever else you are able to fashion to ease the weakness in your patients, but logistics are ever the enemy. Supplies were depleted before you arrived and have only been brought lower. Winter is just around the corner, and--

Steel rings through the stone. Metal on metal-- blades meeting. Out in the courtyard.

Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, and your pace hurries to match it. Surely, surely it cannot be an attack; not now, when Laxdo is but a shade of its former glory.

The certainty of pragmatism grips you, your stomach roiling in its clutches. But of course it must be. What lord could suffer the sweet temptation of a neighbor brought low? It would be nothing to sweep in here and take the manor for a second son, something to placate him, to keep him complacent for another dozen years.

You steel yourself, wishing you had more than the bare pouch of herbs and water skein you carry on you, and step into the blinding light of the arcade--

Only to see a crowd of men gathered in the yard, conspicuously not fighting. Oh no, they are cheering instead.

Your mouth pulls thin, and ah, fortune favors you, for the crowd parts just so, and there are two of your recently healed patients, bare steel in hand, fighting each other in the yard.

Violence is not in your nature, but oh, you are contemplating a change of philosophy.

“Lady Lynet.”

You should startle; time and experience have taught you to shy when approached from behind, but strangely...you do not. Shuuka comes to stand beside you, a respectful distance as is due to your station, but closer than you have been used to these last few months, and it is-- easy. Familiar.

The lord of Laxdo has certainly seen better days; his shoulders stoop as if he expects to be smaller, and the circles beneath his eyes are quite deep still, but-- he smiles, and it is easy to see that time will heal his ills, even these.

“Shuuka,” you murmur in greeting, leaning against one of the arcade’s columns. “It is good to see you on your feet.”

“It is good to be on them,” he assures you with a laugh that brightens the day around you. “I see you are taking in this fine weather.”

“I am. And so are you men, it seems,” you add, wry. “Whether or not I told them to.”

“I know you told them to rest,” he says, lips struggling to rein in his smile, “but it has been a long season for my men. To be outside after such a long sickness, to be moving as one ought--” the longing on his face is plain to see and painful to witness-- “perhaps you might allow them this. Just this once.”

You watch the men dance around each other in the ring, laughing and shouting, breathless from both, and let your jaw ease. “Just this once.”

Shuuka smiles, a bright, earnest thing, and it is so hard to reconcile him to the boy you knew all those years ago. The small lord’s son who viewed the whole world through a veil of tears. He’s grown up better than you could have ever hoped.

He leans on the pillar across from yours, eyeing you with an eager sort of wariness. “I have set the night of the banquet.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” His skitters away, back toward his men. “Tonight. If-- if you allow it.”

“Oh!” You had not-- this was not-- you are not even prepared--

“Hey, you!”

You both jump, heads swinging to where Arturius storms across the yard, looking as unrelenting as winter itself. “You and I must have words, Lord Shuuka!” He glances at you, mouth pulled thin. “Privately.”

Shirayuki considers herself well read.

An understatement, actually; a well-crafted cover for the amount of hours she’d spent curled up in the B&B’s window, devouring books Jaja bought by the box at a yard sale, or the amount she could carry in her arms from the library.

(The maximum was supposed to be five at any one time, but during on particularly slow summer in middle school, the librarian had made a special “all you can carry” policy, applied solely to Shirayuki. It had turned her daily trips into weekly ones, and saved her from slowing her pace to a crawl Saturday nights, so that she could have something to read on Sunday)

She doesn’t have a favorite book-- just thinking about culling the list to top ten makes her break out into a cold sweat, let alone one-- but she has formative ones. Ones that became annual re-reads or just stuck with her, claiming a stake in the back of her mind, ready to whisper the words she needs when she wants a laugh, or the rest of the world gets too hard to handle.

So it’s no surprise when she looks at Obi, his grin stretching impossibly, gleefully wide, and thinks Cheshire Cat. It only makes sense, since she’s fallen down the rabbit hole.

“Well now,” he drawls, far too pleased. “I think we all saw this coming.”

Kiki arches a brow. “What? Because you goaded him into it?”

“Princess,” he gasps, hand pressed against his chest. “Would I purposefully rile up the Prince of all the Briton and the Angles?”

“Absolutely.”

His retort is lost, cut off by the heavy tread of Zen clomping down the stairs. If Shirayuki thought some hallway time might help him cool off, well-- that notion is instantly disabused when he turns the corner on the landing. If anything, he’s more agitated, neck flushed and mouth flat, slouching over to his seat like he’s asking for someone to start a fight.

Izana is not much better, even if his annoyance is more subtle. He settles into his chair with lips pressed thin, the corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that does not suggest good humor.

“Now if no one else has any more business,” he says, voice a trembling thread of his patience, “I think we can skip right to the feast.”

Shirayuki shifts, biting her cheek. It’s not important, it really isn’t but still-- “Um...”

Izana peers up from his notes, brows raised with a shocking lack of sarcasm. “Did you want to do something, Shirayuki?”

“Oh, no, I just, um...” She rolls a corner of Lynet’s sheet, tight and neat under her stubby fingernail. “I just wanted a...clarification?”

He blinks, flipping a hand out in encouragement. “Go on...?”

“It’s only, ah....” It’s silly, she knows that, but she’s already started asking. “Is this an...informal feast?”

Izana’s mouth parts, just slightly. “I’m...sorry?”

“I thought I would ask since Lynet didn’t exactly pack her, um, fanciest gowns.” Her cheeks flare with heat, and ugh, she really just should have let the chips fall as they may on this one. At least if the stares she’s getting from the rest of the table are any indication. “She was traveling light.”

“I...” His mouth opens once, then shuts. Opens again, brows furrowed. “Lord Shuuka has seen fit to outfit you all accordingly if you did not have appropriate clothing for the evening.”

She means to thank him, maybe even ask what might qualify as proper dress for a celebration such as this, but--

“So what you’re saying,” Obi interjects, grin slanted and sly, “is that Beaumain’s got some sick new threads.”

Regret etches itself on every plane of Izana’s face. “...Yes. I suppose.”

“Ha.” Obi leans back, eyes tracing a searing trail up her from heels to hairline. “Then yeah, I got something I want to do before this shindig.”

Had the Lord Himself but asked you if there were women in Laxdo, you would have sworn upon the grave of your mother that you and Morgaine were the only two. Surely you had treated none when the castle was under its curse. But when you attempt to beg off the feast, explaining that you are not properly clad for such a celebration--

Well, Shuuka finds you a gown easily enough. Your fingers linger over the remarkable wool, woven thin and tight, dyed a rich indigo. Woad, you think, though your own forays with it never yielded a color so impressive. The linen kirtle is the same, so light it might as well be air, and oh, you may be born a lady, but never did the Castle Perilous have such luxury.

A knock lands lightly upon your door, a quick little ditty sketched on oak. You’ve heard it before, though you can’t remember the words, or even the tune, just the beat. Ba-ba-bum. Bum-bum. A song from a better time.

You shake yourself. Song it may be, but a summons it is still. And you are the one who must answer it.

The door is heavy beneath your hands, but you coax it open with little effort. Behind it is the evening’s shadows, thick in the growing dim, and the gold that shines from them.

“Ah Beaumains,” you murmur as his outline resolves into a man, one dressed as fine as you. His colors are more subdued, the black of the shadows and the deep blues of his skin, humbler than any words that have passed his lips. “I was not expecting that you would, um...?”

“I am your escort, my lady.” He bows over his arm, a gallant. His pose gives the distinct impression of mocking Bedwyr, though the man himself is not in evidence. “What sort of shield would I be if I let you walk into the fray alone?”

“Ah...” You stare at his sleeve as he holds it out to you, hesitant. “I suppose that would be...unseemly, yes.”

“And I, the height of propriety.” His teeth flash like a knife’s edge as you slip your hand around his elbow. “Lucky, too.”

Your brows raise. “Oh?”

“Of course.” He shrugs; every inch a siege. “I get to see how nice you look before everyone else.”

“Hey!” Zen directs the brunt of his scowl toward Izana, though the angle of his glare is easily wide enough to include Obi. “Why is Beaumains getting this scene?”

“This scene?” Izana drawls, utterly mild. “Do you mean the conversation he just had with Lynet in her chambers?”

“Yes!” Zen’s jaw sets into an ill-tempered jut. “If anyone, Arturius--”

“You mean the scene wherein Beaumains takes the opportunity afforded by his current occupation to further their flirtation,” Izana continues, “the flirtation in which both players have built upon from their character introductions?”

A flush licks flames up her jaw, threatening to blaze across her cheeks. It’s one thing for it to happen, it’s another thing for everyone to just talk about it.

“...Yes.”

Izana raises a brow. “Because he asked.”

And it’s a whole other thing to do it like she wasn’t even here.

“Well, I want one too!” Zen pushes, hands gripping at the table. “Arturius--”

“Is missing the point that the DM is making,” Kiki supplies, deadpan. “Which is that Lynet is also choosing to have this scene too.”

Zen sputters, red-faced. “I know that! Shirayuki wouldn’t have any problem if Arturius wanted to--”

“Arturius is having a very long, very pointed heart-to-heart with the lord of Laxdo,” Izana reminds him. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Well, it’s not like that took all day!” he protests. “I have time to do both.”

Izana pinches the bridge of his nose, letting a long, noise breath out. “The next half hour is not going to be all and sundry complimenting Lynet on her sartorial choices.”

“It’s not everyone, just Artur--”

“Why not?” Kiki tilts back her chair, wedging her knees against the table. “Morgaine wants to tell her she’s beautiful too. How about Bedwyr?”

Mitsuhide stares at her, slack-jawed, before darting a worried look toward Iana. “W-well,” he says finally, with a hard swallow, “he certainly wouldn’t be able to disagree.”

Izana stares at Kiki, nonplussed. “Well then,” he drawls, mouth settling into a disconcerting smile. “What do you think, Shirayuki?”

She’s already pink, but with everyone’s eyes on her, her skin burns to a painful red. “M-me?”

“Shall we allow Arturius--” he darts a quelling glance at Kiki-- “et al to have their moment with Lynet, or shall we press on to the feast?”

Zen smiles at her, so kind and warm, just like he did that first day at school, and she-- she wishes that this wasn’t up to her. It’s not as if she minds the compliments-- fictional as they are-- but Beamains’ had been spontaneous, inspired by the moment, and this--

--Zen settles back, his smile curling smugly at the corners. His gaze is no longer on her, oh no, it’s on Obi, the challenge written clear in his eyes--

--has nothing to do with the game, and everything to do with the people playing it.

“I think,” she begins without a tremor in her voice, “I’m fine with moving on.”

Zen’s jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard the lady.” Izana lips twitch behind his paper screen. “She is content with only Beaumains’ love making.”

Shirayuki jolts. “That’s not what I sa--”

“Anyway,” he continues, ignoring his brother’s glare and Obi’s grins in response, “it’s the feast now.”

This is no longer the great hall you remember.

Or perhaps it is if you search your earliest memories; if you allow yourself to remember being seated upon the dais, a cushion placed beneath you so that you might reach the table and impress the court with your grace. You did not-- you sister would have, were she allowed, but it was you who would be sent to marry at Laxdo, not her, practically an infant still. It was no disaster; it was not your beauty that had brought the lord of Laxdo to break bread with your father.

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka rises on the dais, holding up a hand. “Please, come here!”

It is perhaps a different tale now.

Still, this no longer resembles the hall in which you have been toiling in these long weeks. That was a dark, stifling place, the miasma of curse and compulsion lingering for days after you had dispelled them. But this--

This is a new country entirely. Candles twinkle in their holder overhead, the ceilings so high they seem as distant as the stars themselves. Bodies no longer line the hall but instead pack benches, the men dressed bright and boisterous, ale already flowing from their cups.

“Surveying your domain?”

You blink, eyes blurring as they settle on the shadow beside you. His teeth flash white against the indigo of his lips, too amused. “N-no! I was only thinking of how changed this place is. Only days ago man laid head to toe, and now...”

He tilts his heads, horns glimmering in the candlelight. “Now they are all hidden away, and we play at heroes.”

It is only the rough wool beneath your fingers, wrapped around the hard curve of his shoulder, that tells you once again you have acted without thinking. You cheeks burn as you pull away-- to think, you raised a hand to him as if he were one of the tenants’ children chasing you around the courtyard, as if you had known him all your life.

“Oh, my lady,” he clucks. “How rough you are with your servant--”

“You were unkind,” you murmur heatedly. “There are few enough that are still ailing, and they would be better served in their rooms. There is no harm in Laxdo’s lord wanting to celebrate their good fortune.”

“Mayhaps.” His nose wrinkles. “A little ridiculous, you must admit.”

You snorts, unladylike. “Says the one who polished his horns.”

Ah, now the shoe is on the other foot. His gaze is quick to drop from yours, expression rumpled with annoyance. Beaumains may be eager to ridicule the pageantry of the nobles, but he enjoys it as well.

“Come on then.” His arm tugs at yours, not gentle. “Let’s see what your skill has won you, my lady.”

You sputter, feet stumbling as you attempt to keep pace. “As I said, I am not--”

“Ah.” Beaumains mouth curves slyly, eyeing the tables he leads you past. “You may not be taking their measure, but it seems tonight they will take yours.”

It is only his words that make you notice; conversations quiet as you pass, the men’s eyes following you not with hunger, but with curiosity. For the first time, you prefer the former more than the latter.

“I cannot see why.” You take pains to place your feet more carefully, to strive for that ladylike bearing your sister achieves so easily. “They know me already.”

“But tonight is different.” He nods to the empty place beside Shuuka. You stomach drops when you see it is to his right. “Tonight they find out if you fit into the lady’s seat.”

You gut clenches. You did not come so far for this to dog your heels once again. “That-- that cannot be. I have been clear--”

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka waves again, though more subtly. No need for grand gestures when you are already so close. “Come, take your place by me.”

Beaumains’ brows raise. “Are you sure?”

You thought you were, but the smile the lord gives you as you approach gives you doubts. Beaumains pulls out your chair, chin tucked respectfully, but you do not miss his amused smirk or his knowing look. Fine. He may think what he likes but this is not-- not that. Your betrothal is long in the past for both you and Laxdo’s lord.

“My women did well,” Shuuka tells you, friendly and bright, no hint of romance. “You look radiant, my lady.”

Well...not much of one, at least. “They have my thanks,” you reply, “I truly had nothing for a feast such as this.”

His smile widens, and it does him credit that he keeps it as he turns to Beaumains. “Thank you as well, for escorting my lady.”

To his other side, Arturius scowls, glaring as your shadow performs a polite bow, no respect spared. The same he categorically refused to show the prince. “My pleasure, your lordship.”

“You honor us with your actions, Sir Beaumains.” Shuuka gestured past her, hand open in generosity. “Please, take the seat next to the Lady Lynet, I--”

A chair scrapes across the dais, and Arturius stands, as thunderous as any storm. “That man is no sir.”

The room is so quiet it practically has its own crickets. Or at least it would, if the atmosphere hadn’t suffocated them all. Shirayuki has admit, she’s feeling a little stifled herself

Mitsuhide shifts, chair creaking, mouth grim. “Zen...”

“No,” he snaps, still on his feet, red-faced and tense as he squares off with his brother. “It’s ridiculous! He’s a commoner.”

Izana peers up from his notes, raising a mild brow. “Is this really something you think is appropriate to pursue right now?”

Speaking fluent teacher like she does, Shirayuki hears the warning loud and clear: back down. But of course, Zen doesn’t.

“Beaumains doesn’t belong on the dais,” he reasons angrily. “He should be down at the tables with the vassals and retainers.”

Izana’s expression doesn’t betray a single thought, smooth as still water. “I must concede the point, technically, but as he is a member of your party, it would make sense if--”

Zen barks out a laugh. “Oh, you’re such a stickler for accuracy, but now you’re going to break a simple rule of hospitality--”

“It’s for ease of play--”

“It’s meta gaming.”

If she’d thought the room was quiet before, she’s disabused of the notion now. All motion has ceased; even Kiki holds her breath, eyes fixed on Izana who-- who--

Stands. Or rather, unfurls; every inch is a journey as his long limbs draw straight. It’s hard to remember when Mitsuhide can hardly fit both his thighs on a dining chair, but Izana is tall, a good ten inches above her perfectly respectable 5′4. He uses every bit of that to his advantage as he looms over his brother, eyes cool and steady. “I think--”

“It’s fine.”

Obi lounges in his chair, ankle cross over knee without a care in the word. Big Dick Energy, Kihal would tell her, and wow, she really does not need to be thinking about that right now, in the middle of all this.

His lips slowly spread into a grin that does not help her brain stay on the straight and narrow, not one little bit. “Beaumains can sit among the masses.”

“Obi...” His head swivels to her, and oh, she really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but-- it’s too late to turn back now. “You don’t need to--”

“Nah, nah, it’s no big deal,” he laughs, waving her off. “Let’s be real, given a choice between being in the box seats or getting trashed with the smallfolk, we all know which one he’d pick.”

Izana frowns, brow knitting. “As much as I appreciate your rationality in the face of the irrational, Obi, it isn’t necessary. It makes more narrative sense for Beaumains to be treated the same as the rest of the party--”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it, boss man. I can tank a hit for historical accuracy.” His gaze cuts to Zen. “In our fantasy roleplaying game where I play a demon and half the party does magic.”

Zen has the grace to look abashed, at least.

Izana lowers himself back into his chair, mouth set in faint disapproval. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, no prob.” Obi grins, sending her stomach into a tailspin. “Don’t worry, my lady, Beaumains knows how to keep himself entertained.”

You may sit at the lord of Laxdo’s right hand, but it is Morgaine who sits at yours, as radiant as any song. By all rights, she should be in your place; base-born she may be, but king’s daughter outranks a count’s, even born on the wrong side of the sheets. Still, she makes no protest when she takes her seat, only curling her lips in one of her mysterious smiles.

Shuuka is an attentive host, selecting the choicest cuts from the trays and laying them upon your plate. He chooses well for you, each morsel a delightful burst of flavor upon your tongue, but still--

Beaumains’ teasing spoils your every bite. It does not escape you that your host is not paying Arturius the same diligent attention but-- one does not feed a king. Or, rather, a prince. And you, well-- you would be the first to say that the curse was ended by the efforts of your whole party, but you know the men of Laxdo hold a different opinion.

(And for that matter, so does Beaumains, which he shares loudly and without prompting whenever possible, much to Arturius’ ire. It is flattering, but oh, you would much rather not be a needle used to provoke, no matter who holds it)

It is kind of Shuuka to pay you such an honor, but still, it leaves you feeling awkward, as if you were born with two left hands. You cast helpless looks to your right, but Morgaine only replies with sly smiles, ones that make your skin itch with expectation.

With no safe place to look on the dais, your gaze fans out over the press below. Lady you may be, but it’s the benches you are used to; your father had never stood much on ceremony, preferring to eat and be merry among his men, rather than make himself a proper lord. Even now you long to be among them; the talk may be bawdy and the drink more sour, but you would not suffer so many eyes upon you, measuring the curve of you breast and speculating on the red of your hair.

You do not look long before your eye catches on midnight blue and glistening horns; even dressed as a shadow, Beaumains is hard to miss among the lord’s men. He laughs, tossing his head back, hand pressed to his belly-- a truer one on him than any you have seen. To think, you had pitied him when Shuuka did not tender an invitation to the dais, but now--

Well, he’s certainly enjoying himself more than you are.

A sharp prod to your ribs sets you upright, your mind snapping back to the present, reminding you sharply that you are being watched and weighed by the same men you long to join. Morgaine pulls back her elbow, sending a pointed look over your shoulder. To Shuuka.

Shuuka, who is staring at you expectantly. Shuuka, who has almost certainly asked you a question that you did not hear.

Morgaine reaches for the wine pitcher, bumping your shoulder. “He’s asking if all this is to you liking.”

“Oh!” You stitch a smile to you face. “Yes. The fest is, ah...lovely. You do me a great honor. Ah, us a great honor.”

His own smile widens, sore pleased. “I am glad to hear it, Lady Lynet. It was my greatest hope that you would find Laxdo pleasing.”

You nod, awkward, before turning back to your meal. It is hardly touched, only a single bite from each dish, and you suffer a pang of chagrin to think you have so obviously ignored his generosity-- save that you notice everyone else’s plate remains untouched as well.

Shuuka’s chair scrapes across the dais as he stands, holding his arms wide. “Before we partake of this feast--”

Oh, Lord in Heaven, the blessing. You had forgotten it entirely. Your gaze darts guiltily across the table, trying to see whether the lord’s chaplain has caught your petty sin, but the only man of the cloth at the table is Bedwyr.

“--We must all give thanks to Our Lord in heaven, from whom all our bounty flows.”

A murmur of agreement shuffles out from the men at the tables, heads bowed with lips mouthing an impassioned amen--

Ah, right. Bowed heads. What she should be doing now, in this place of honor.

“I would be remiss if I also did not offer our gratitude to the Lady Lynet.” Your head snaps up, gaze tangling helplessly with his. “If it was not for her cleverness and diligence, not a single man would be standing here today.”

This is-- this is not the toast you thought he would make, not when he spoke of the feast this morning. Not when he had told you it would be in honor of those who saved Laxdo.

“We are blessed that the angels guided her back to us after so many years away,” he continues, every word adding to the pit of dread growing in your belly. “It can only be the provenance of Our Heavenly Father that she has returned, and in returning, removed the blight from our land. I would be turning my back upon God Himself and all His angels if I did not receive what blessing he has given us.”

You heart pounds loudly in your chest, rattling the drums of war. You had been so clear. You had said--

Not enough. Nothing short of an explicit refusal ever stuck in a man’s ear. you know this all too well.

It galls you that Beaumains knew it better.

“My father has passed, but his will has always been my guide.” Shuuka showers praises down on you, oblivious to how you wither beneath it. “It had been his wish to seen our houses joined, along with your father’s, my lady. I am eager to tread the path they left for us.”

You want to protest, you mean to protest. But all of the eyes of Laxdo are upon you, and-- and your hands clench helplessly in your skirt. For a man to be refused after such a speech, after such feeling, in front of all his men--

It would be kinder to leave a blade in him. At least that he might recover from.

Your gaze swivels to your left, to your right, but Arturius sits, stunned, and his sister is much the same. The moment for an objection has passed for them, for all those who sit on this dais, but on the floor--

You cast your gaze out, searching, hoping, but--

Beaumains is not among the tables, not anymore.

The chair squeals across the floorboards as Izana stands, smoothing down his pants.

“Wha-- where are you going?” Zen stares at him, jaw slack. “We’re in the middle of a feast. This jerk just proposed!”

Izana flips his phone, screen out, and there is Obi’s name, right at the top of his messages. hey boss can b get himself some quality hallway time

It buzzes, followed up by a long string of hot lips emojis, double hearts, and what looks like an eggplant..

“Well,” Kiki drawls, “now I know too much.”

Izana glances at his screen before swinging to glare at Obi. “Really?”

He shrugs, gleefully pocketing his cellphone. “Hey, you set it up. I just took the shot.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t argue that.” Izana sighs, gathering up his dice. “Give us a moment.”

“Don’t rush on our account,” Kiki hums, mouth twitching at a corner.

Izana groans, shaking his head. “At least pretend you’re going to behave.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #dungeons & dragons au #my fic #ans #one more chapter to the end of this arc #thought now I'm also considering ending this fic after that #and then having the next arc being its own fic #i don't know #these are the funnicky things I have to consider while i'm writing these fics #because otherwise this will be like a 40 chapter 150k fic or something #WHO KNOWS #i got another chapter to decide

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livvibee · 4 years ago

Text

In Public

Pairing: Starker

Rating: Explicit (E)

Notes: This fic was written for @theonlyceeceej as part of the @starkerkink Exchange 2020 Event.

Length: 4.7k~

Warnings: Exhibitionism, Daddy Kink, Anal Play, Butt Plugs, Shibari/Rope Bondage, Vibrators, Verbal Humiliation

Read here or on AO3.

The blaring alarm cut through the music blasting in the workshop, startling Peter from repairs to one of his webshooters.

“Okay Fri, message received!” Peter shouted over the sound. “You can cut it out now.”

Peter stood up from his workstation, twisting and stretching all around to relieve his tight muscles, and took a few moments to tidy things up. Across the room Tony was still deep in thought, manipulating the holographic schematic for a new suit in the air, completely unaware of his surroundings. Peter crossed the room, dodging around piles of discarded parts to reach his lover.

“Daddy…” Peter purred into Tony’s ear, before nibbling playfully at the nape of his neck.

Tony groaned and batted weakly over his shoulder. “Hang on Pete, I’m almost done.”

“Daddy…” Peter repeated, drawing out the word like a soft caress. “It’s time to get ready.”

“You go on ahead baby,” Tony replied, voice still far away. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

Peter huffed and ruffled the older man’s hair, missing how quickly Tony’s attention shifted at the playful touch. “Ugh, fine,” he sassed, “but you’d better be upstairs by the time I get out of the shower.”

Tony spun around on his stool, ready to ask his boy “exactly who he thought he was speaking to,” but Peter was already hustling out of the lab. The affronted expression quickly melted into a calculating grin as Tony considered their plans for the evening.

Peter padded out of the bathroom with a towel slung low between his hips, exposing his defined abs and the vee of his adonis belt. The young man stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Tony, who was half undressed and planted firmly on the edge of their bed, carefully coiled ropes draped over his arm.

“Well kid,” Tony said, soaking in the startled look on Peter’s face with a sharkish grin, “I’m upstairs by the time you’re out of the shower. Any other demands you’d like to make for the evening?”

Through a supreme act of self control, Peter suppressed the “oh shit” that threatened to fall from his lips, unconsciously straightening up from his relaxed posture as he responded. “No Daddy, I don’t have any demands.

Tony hummed noncommittally. “Are you sure? Because you sounded awfully demanding down in the lab, and you know how I love to accommodate my baby’s desires.”

Peter swallowed involuntarily as he thought of all the ways his desires had been accommodated in the past, often in ways and directions he could barely admit to fantasizing about, let alone directly ask for. He managed to squeak out a quiet “I’m sure!” as he eyed the lengths of hotrod red rope and tried to analyze the flash of gold peeking out from a fold in the blankets.

“Good boy...” Tony purred, before beckoning Peter over with a crooked finger.

Peter crossed the room on suddenly unsteady legs, helplessly drawn forward by that single finger. As he reached the bed, Tony reached out and tugged at his towel, dropping the damp fabric carelessly to the floor. Peter fought the urge to hide as a wave of shyness ran over him, letting his hands fall loose at his sides as Tony preferred.

A proud smile played around the corners of Tony’s lips as he reached out and placed a hand on Peter’s hip. “I’m thinking tonight we could try something new.”

“S- something new?” Peter asked, gathering up his hard wrought communication skills, overriding the shyness gathered in his chest in favor of the growing spark of interest. “I could be up for something new Daddy.”

“Remember when we talked about wearing my rope out on date night?” Tony asked, rubbing gently at Peter’s flank. “Why not tonight?”

Peter paused to consider before responding. “Won’t you be able to see the lines under my tux?”

“There’s my analytical baby,” Tony cooed. “This stuff is thinner than what we usually use, you won’t be able to see under all the layers.”

Peter nodded brightly and smiled. “Sounds good to me Daddy.”

“I have one more plan,” Tony said with a grin stretched across his face, “and it’s one I think you’ll enjoy.”

Tony held up the gold object Peter had seen peeking out from the covers. It was a buttplug, not particularly large, oddly shaped with a bulbous head, just long enough and thick enough to make an impression. There was a wicked curve to the toy, ensuring that it would prod relentlessly at Peter’s sweet spot, above the flared base.

Peter eyed the toy with trepidation and excitement warring in his gut. “I would wear that all night?”

“Unless you needed to use your safeword and take it out, yes.”

Peter curiously reached out to touch the toy, and Tony handed it over easily. He was surprised by the weight of it, and the coolness of the metal in his palm.

“Want to see the surprise feature?” Tony asked, a wicked smile firmly etched across his expressive mouth.

Peter nodded, watching Tony fidget with his watch. Suddenly the plug started vibrating, thrumming strongly in his hand, making him tingle from fingertip to wrist. Peter was glazing over as he considered being so naughty underneath his flashy tuxedo, dancing with all the rich old spinsters with a vibrating plug stuck in his ass. He fidgeted slightly, feeling heat begin to pool in his stomach already.

“Sounds uh- sounds like a good time to me Daddy,” Peter muttered, feeling his blush creep up his chest across his cheeks and even into the tips of his ears. “Won’t- won’t I get hard?”

“Oh,” Tony cooed, “you’re definitely going to get hard. You’ll just have to be… creative. Maybe you can hide behind an autumnal flower arrangement.”

Peter squirmed at the man’s mocking tone. “Al- alright Daddy,” he said, raising his chin slightly, “Green, I can handle it.”

“Good,” Tony nodded, “now go get ready.”

Peter returned a short time later from the bathroom to find Tony standing by the bed, with the plug and lube all laid out, coiled rope waiting at the side.

Tony patted the bed gently. “Get up here, on your hands and knees.”

Peter did as he was asked, as eager to please as always. He was half hard already, and waited impatiently for Tony's touch. Peter gasped when he finally felt those calloused hands firmly grasping at his cheeks, spreading them apart and exposing his furled hole. One hand left his ass and Peter could hear the click of the lube bottle opening, then felt a warm, slippery finger gently prodding and massaging against his puckered ring. Peter laid his head on his crossed arms and tried to relax all the muscles in his body that were tense with anticipation.

“That’s it baby,” Tony purred, “let Daddy in, gonna loosen you up.”

Tony’s swirling fingertip slowly breached Peter’s tightness, making the younger man moan in delight at the first stretch of penetration. Peter sighed happily as prickles of pleasure skittered down his spine and straight to his rapidly filling dick. Tony moved his digit slowly in and out, gently prepping Peter before rapidly slipping in another finger with a wicked laugh, curling them across his prostate. Peter hissed at the accompanying burn, gritting his teeth even as he humped backwards on Tony’s fingers, trying to keep them where he was most sensitive.

“Fuck, Daddy-” Peter cried out, whimpering in displeasure as Tony pulled his fingers back out abruptly.

Tony tapped lightly at Peter’s hole. “Hush now, let Daddy take care of this.”

The frigid touch of metal replaced the familiar warmth of Tony’s hand, making Peter hiss as the bulbous tip of the plug circled his rim, barely having time to pick up the warmth of his skin before Tony pushed it slowly against Peter’s reflexively tightening hole. Peter took a deep breath again and consciously relaxed, letting Tony begin to slide the plug into him. The older man pushed the frigid metal toy in slowly, then drew it back out a fraction of an inch each time, slowly making his way to the widest point of the plug. Peter had never felt something so cold inside his warmth before, and moaned loudly with each push, humping fruitlessly into the air and feeling wrecked even though they’d barely begun the evening.

“Ah, hgn, fu- Daddy!” Peter wailed as his hole stretched around the toy’s flared tip and pulled it in greedily, snapping around the thinness before the base.

Tony swirled the toy slowly, listening to Peter’s hitched breaths, finding the point where it would prod relentlessly against Peter’s prostate for the entire night.

“There you go baby, is that your sweet spot?” Tony asked mockingly, pressing rhythmically against the base of the plug with clever fingers, jolting Peter back into moans.

“Ye- yes!” Peter gasped as the heavy toy bobbed inside him.

“Good!” Tony slapped sharply against Peter’s upturned ass. “Now, up.”

Peter’s head was spinning from the sudden change of pace as he slowly slid into a standing position by the bed, dick bobbing in the air. Tony grabbed Peter’s hand and drew him across the room to the large mirror by the closet, positioning him facing the mirror, but leaving enough room to circle Peter’s body. Circle he did, leaving Peter flushing and needy under Tony’s scrutiny.

“Hands behind your back tesoro,” Tony said as a calculating look passed over his face. “Now, what to do, what to do.” Tony stood back and placed a hand under his chin, arguing with himself under his breath before seemingly making a decision. “Stay just like you are.”

Tony stood and let the coil of rope unroll before folding it over to find the center. Peter shivered, hands clasped behind his back, feeling the caress of the soft rope across his skin as Tony draped the rope over his shoulders and let it hang to the middle of his back before tying a series of well practiced knots down the front of the rope to just above Peter’s throbbing cock. Karada, Peter’s brain supplied helpfully, the hazy memory rising of a long afternoon where Tony explained and demonstrated basic shibari on Peter’s oh-so-willing form.

Peter automatically shifted his hands to rest behind his head, keeping his arms up and out of the way for the harness Tony was tying around his body. The sibilant whisper of the rope against the floor and skin was the only sound in their bedroom, besides their quiet breathing and Peter’s whimpers as the rope slid across his skin. Tony wrapped and tucked the ropes back under themselves, looping them securely into a pattern like diamonds across Peter’s chest. He was already halfway floating, feeling the gentle pressure snaking around his ribs, tightening slightly with each adjustment of the rope.

“Doing okay there baby?” Tony asked, breaking the silence as he checked the tie with confident fingers.

Peter took a deep breath, relishing the way the rope held him securely as his chest expanded. “I’m doing great Daddy,” he replied dreamily, watching in the mirror as Tony bent down, separating the ropes to surround Peter’s still hard dick and balls, and pulling them up securely behind Peter’s back between his cheeks.

Tony pulled on the rope, grinning as Peter gasped aloud as the pressure moved the metal plug in his ass against his sweet spot. “Hmm,” he mused before snapping the fingers on his free hand. “Spread 'em,” Tony commanded, leaving Peter scrambling to widen his stance as he moved behind the boy.

Resisting the urge to twist around and see what exactly Tony was doing, Peter waited helplessly, feeling the controlled movement of rope sliding against itself, being tied into a new knot. Tony pulled up again on the ropes, this time jolting the plug even more firmly, forcing a sharp squeak out of Peter.

“What changed?!” Peter yelped through the fuzziness building in his head, shifting his weight from foot to foot but not otherwise moving from his position.

Tony laughed archly as he spoke. “Just a little knot in an opportune place.”

Peter wasn’t floating too high to resist swearing under his breath about “little knots in opportune places my ass,” and received a stinging swat across one cheek from where Tony was still bent behind him.

Tony stood up before securing the remainder of the rope in a careful knot just above the small of Peter’s back. “There!” He said, quiet satisfaction evident on his face as he tugged and ran his fingers under the rope, making sure everything was the correct tightness.

Looking back into the mirror, Peter admired the vivid red of the rope against his skin and squirmed slightly where he stood, hands slowly drifting down from behind his head, following the contours of the lines and knots secured across his body.

“How does it feel?” Tony asked. “Actually, before you answer that, try sitting down.”

Peter scurried back across the room and sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, failing to suppress a small, high pitched moan as the knot pressed against the plug.

Tony grinned evilly at the sound. “Now,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “back to the question at hand. How does it feel?”

“It feels… perfect…” Peter breathed. He could feel the gentle pressure surrounding his core, increasing with every inhalation, surrounding him with a buzzing layer of securesafetight, and the knot was a firm reminder of the plug and the game they were playing tonight.

“Not too tight?” Tony asked, watching Peter’s headshake of denial. “Good!” Tony crowed before grabbing at the knot in the middle of Peter’s chest and pulling him up slightly for a savage kiss, swallowing the moan that ricocheted from his throat and moving Peter’s entire body back and forth. Pulling his lips back from Peter’s searching mouth, Tony whispered, “Time to get ready.”

That sensation of whiplash came crashing back to Peter, who was still dazed from the kiss and the manipulation of the ropes surrounding him. “But-”

“Shhhh,” Tony said, placing a finger against Peter’s lips. “We still have the whole night ahead of us.”

Later that evening, Peter was astoundingly grateful for Tony’s consideration of his enhanced senses as they made their way through a back entrance to the historic mansion where the auction and gala were occurring, avoiding the red carpet entrance and flashing lights of the paparazzi. With rope tight against his skin under his tux and his ass firmly plugged, he was happy to escape any added attention. The media had been sniffing like hounds around their newly announced relationship, and the clamor outside would have been immense and overwhelming.

Peter was on tenterhooks as he and Tony mingled with the other guests, keenly aware that the plug in his ass could begin to vibrate at any moment. He had never noticed before just how often Tony checked FRIDAY’s notifications on his watch, but with every upward motion of Tony’s wrist that had Peter tensed and waiting, he was beginning to get an idea.

Peter excused himself from the excruciatingly boring conversation between Tony and some senator or other, appropriating the auction paddle to fan his heated face as he headed to the bar for a refill on his club soda and lime. Peter dipped and weaved between clusters of people, his natural grace coming into play as he finally began to relax. They’d been at the event for ages already, maybe Tony would be so distracted that he would forget about the plug entirely.

Refill achieved, Peter began to make his way back to Tony from the bar. As he crossed the room, he was caught by a group of sneering Upper East Side socialites, all hoping to talk to the mysterious young man who managed to bag The Tony Stark. Peter found himself unwillingly drawn into the conversation, inexpertly dodging questions about their personal life with stammering redirections. He flinched as he felt the first vibration rumble slowly against his sweet spot, disguising his small moan as a sudden cough. Peter began to desperately look for a way out of the conversation as the plug shivered and trembled inside him. He could already feel his dick chubbing up, responding to the delicious tingles shooting through his body. Peter focused his genius brain on ignoring the sensation, and shifted slightly to hold his auction paddle in front to hide his rapidly growing hardness.

Suddenly, the plug in his ass roared to life with a great and terrible vengeance. Peter jumped, almost spilling his drink across the haughty woman in a hideous gown who was still rudely clutching his sleeve. He looked frantically around the room, finding Tony across the dancefloor, still deep in conversation, innocently toying with his watch as he spoke. Peter was outraged and turned on beyond belief; that jerk wasn’t even looking at him! Making his excuses to the entire couture cabal, he extricated himself and ducked into a nearby curtained alcove.

Peter leaned with one hand out against the wall, and took a moment to breathe. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. The vibrations were way stronger than anticipated.

Peter shifted minutely, trying to control his shivering, clutching the auction paddle in his free hand. His slightly bent position was pulling on the ropes surrounding his chest, tugging on the line wedged firmly between his cheeks, and rubbing that diabolically placed knot against the base of the plug. The toy inside him changed from a predictable low thrum to a series of intermittent bursts, shifting in length and intensity between blessed moments of reprieve. Peter stifled his whimpers, acutely aware of the sounds of civilized society just beyond the curtain.

Wait… Was that? It was! Long, short, break- N, long long long, break- O… Peter bit back an incredulous laugh as he translated the rest of the Morse code message. “No hiding.” No hiding? How was Peter supposed to get through the night?

Peter’s dick was a line of fire where it was trapped down the leg of his pants. He took a few moments to adjust, tucking his cock into the waistband of his pants and grimacing slightly at the pressure of the button right below the head of his cock. The young man took a series of deep breaths against the constant stimulation of the plug vibrating merrily away in his ass, feeling the tightness of the harness against his skin as he steeled himself to return to the crowded ballroom. Suddenly the curtain drew back slightly, and Tony swirled into the shadowed space, leaning toward him with a predatory smile and proprietary air.

“How’s it going Petey?” Tony asked, pushing Peter against the wall and insinuating a hand beneath his tuxedo jacket, trailing it across the diamonds of rope beneath his shirt. “You enjoying the evening?”

Peter softly gasped his response as Tony’s strong fingers closed around one of Peter’s pebbled nipples. “Ye- yes Daddy, I’m ha- having a great time.”

Tony responded by crowding his body against Peter, grinding his hips against Peter’s throbbing cock and whispering with menace. “Are you hiding in here, little slut? Didn’t I just tell you no hiding? Are you gonna be my brilliant boy tonight or my dumb little cucciolo? You’ve already got the harness, maybe I should have brought you on a leash?”

Peter gasped and whined, dropping the paddle entirely as his nails dug into the plaster, words trickling through his body and the image of being paraded around, bound and leashed before the who’s who of New York City fluttering through his head. “Daddy! I can’t- You can’t-”

Tony pressed his hand against Peter’s mouth and licked a lurid strip up Peter’s neck from the edge of his collar to his ear. “I see you’re going to be my little cucciolo then, whimpering where anyone could hear you. I’ll let you in on a secret baby... I’m Tony-Fucking-Stark, and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want. If I wanna bring you to a charity gala naked but for my rope and drag you around like a dumb puppy, I will. I can buy every wagging tongue in here.”

A hot dribble of pre welled out of Peter’s tip and stuck the crisp cotton of his shirt to the sensitive head of his dick as Tony ground his hips against Peter and whispered filth into his ear. The wall began to chip underneath Peter’s bracing fingers, he squirmed in the harness holding him securely under his bespoke tuxedo, panting harshly through his nose and relishing the repeated pull of ropes across his ribs. Watching him quiver with an indulgent grin, Tony unbuttoned Peter’s jacket and slithered his arm around beneath the jacket to grab at the knot at the small of Peter’s back through his shirt. Carefully and firmly he tugged up, stifling Peter’s moans with hand over mouth as the knot between his cheeks pushed against that infernal plug, rubbing it firmly against Peter’s prostate.

Peter was caught between that sensation of the plug thrumming against his sweet spot, pressing against it even harder as Tony manipulated the rope, and the grinding of Tony’s hips against Peter’s, sandwiching his throbbing, leaky cock between them. Peter was almost riding the edge already, shivering and emitting muffled whimpers and groans from the depths of his throat, feeling the waves of heat swell dangerously high in his core as the vibrations shook through him. He screwed his eyes shut as the waves began to crest, rocking his hips harder into Tony’s solid strength, hands fisted at his sides so he didn’t leave craters in the plaster.

Tony’s watch chirped quietly in the muffled alcove and the vibrations stopped, interrupting the spectacular orgasm that Peter had been seconds from reaching. As quickly as he had begun, Tony tucked Peter’s shirt in at the back and buttoned his jacket, but not before rubbing his knuckles firmly against the aching line of Peter’s cock. Peter submitted to the treatment, helpless and aflame with desire as Tony straightened Peter’s bowtie and smoothed his mussed hair.

“Alright cucciolo, it’s time for the speech and auction. We better get back to our table before we’re missed.”

Peter stared uncomprehendingly at Tony. Go? In this state? He kept staring as Tony grabbed the paddle from the floor and held Peter’s hand, peeking outside of the alcove through the gap in the curtain.

“C’mon dumb puppy, no need to talk, you just have to heel,” Tony said, ushering Peter out into the warm lights of the ballroom. Everyone was gathered at the tables at the opposite end, watching the raised stage, the only witness to Peter’s flustered blinking being the bartender polishing glasses behind the expansive mahogany surface. Peter blushed furiously as the man eyed them both and winked, mimicking a zipper closing his lips with one hand.

As Tony and Peter reached the edge of the clustered tables, the lights began to dim and a spotlight appeared, pointed at the podium on the stage, drawing the room’s attention to the speaker who was walking out, cue cards in hand. They discretely slipped into their seats at the two person table near the edge of the group, Tony pulling back Peter’s chair and plopping him securely in the seat, making Peter suppress his moan as the plug jolted inside him.

Peter tuned out the speech completely, sitting ramrod straight in his chair, trying to avoid pulling the harness in any particular direction or pressing that devious knot any harder against the plug. He was staring off into the distance, cock still trapped and pulsing, trying to school his face into some semblance of order in anticipation of the lights being turned back on soon. Peter’s head snapped over to stare at Tony as the vibrations started back on, just a whisper compared to the earlier thrum.

“Da- Tony!” Peter hissed urgently, leaning toward the older man.

Tony leaned in as well, whispering into Peter’s ear. “Yes cucciolo? Something you need to say?”

“There’s people here, all around us… Anyone could see...” Peter trailed off, not understanding why he had to explain his alarm.

“What, haven’t practiced your poker face lately?” Tony grinned against Peter’s hair. “None of that sounded like a safeword to me.”

Peter suppressed a reedy whine as he realized that Tony was right, fidgeting slightly as the vibrations increased in intensity. He didn’t want to stop. Tony hummed in satisfaction, leaning back into his seat, stretching his legs out and to all appearances, idly checking the notifications on his watch.

The plug inside him burst into a flurry of earthquaking vibrations, the chair creaking slightly as Peter wrapped his hands around the edge of the seat to anchor himself. Peter tried his hardest to keep his face neutral and his eyes open though they were glazed unseeingly toward the stage. He said a quiet prayer of thanks that his jacket was hiding the front of his shirt that was now soaked through with pre, his dick back to throbbing and leaking profusely. To his delight and horror, the vibration was still increasing in intensity, slowly ramping up, and up, and up. Peter was frozen in his seat, biting his lip to stifle the intense moans that threatened to burst from his throat. He couldn’t help the slight rocking motion of his hips on the chair, looking for all the world like a bored twenty-something fidgeting, rather than one melting down from intense pleasure.

The vibrations were almost numbingly strong now, jackhammering against his sweet spot as Peter ground down on the knotted rope between his cheeks. Humid prickles of sweat were forming against Peter’s flanks and on the back of his neck, around his hairline and above his lips. The room felt scorchingly hot as the tidal wave of pleasure rose within Peter like molten lava dripping in his veins. Peter could barely unfurl his hands from around the chair, which was starting to dent under his grip. He folded them to press against the hardness in his lap, which was demanding attention beneath his tuxedo jacket, resisting the urge to hump wildly against his fingers with an iron will.

Tony leaned in from his careless sprawl to speak softly in Peter’s ear, his own voice tight with desire. “You gonna cum cucciolo? In front of all these people? Who knows who might be watching, you’d better keep that dumb puppy pokerface up while you make a mess.”

Peter’s entire body started to quiver beyond his ability to suppress as the words penetrated the haze surrounding his brain. Tony crowded in closer and pushed his arm beneath Peter’s jacket, wrapping it around Peter’s waist as if to steady him, while really shifting the line of rope between Peter’s cheeks. It was just a fraction of an inch higher, but it ratcheted up the coiled tension in Peter’s core. He was teetering on the edge and just couldn’t fall over. Peter turned toward Tony, resting his head on the man’s shoulder to disguise the tears of need pooling in his eyes.

Tony chuckled knowingly into Peter’s ear and unbuttoned Peter’s jacket, using the now relaxed fabric as a shield for his actions. “You want me to touch that hungry dick, puppy?” Tony cooed, “Of course you do, dirty boy, you always need a little help, don’t you?”

Peter nodded emphatically against Tony’s shoulder, not trusting his voice to reply. Tony navigated above Peter’s tightly pressed hands with deft fingertips, unbuttoning a single button and sliding his fingers into the gap in the soaked fabric. He circled Peter’s slick cockhead with his calloused fingertips, gently rubbing and smearing the sticky pre around, soothing and inflaming all the same. It was so good, oh- oh- oh God it was so good! Peter realized distantly that he was whispering these words fervently into Tony’s shoulder, so he pushed his head down harder. Biting into Tony’s shoulder to suppress the muffled wail of “Daddy!” as the waves of pleasure finally crested, Peter flew over the peak. The tension coiled in his body snapped, whiting out the world as his eyes squeezed shut, his whole body shuddering, shooting out endless blurts of hot cum across Tony’s fingers into the confines of his shirt.

The sound of clapping slowly penetrated Peter’s post orgasmic haze, and he dimly recognized Tony’s competent hands buttoning him back up, disguising the evidence of what they’d done, and rubbing soothingly at his back. Peter blearily raised his head as the lights began to brighten, leaning back onto his own chair with an exhausted and content sigh.

#starkerkink2020 #starker #livvibee #nff

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srhlsx · 5 years ago

Text

CHAPTER 7

master | ch. 6 | ch. 8

During a break between your classes you had made your way to your locker to check your phone. Your parents were on a business trip - again - this time in Kyoto so you wanted to see if you had heard from them. You had asked your mom to message you when they arrived and got settled in, having left early this morning, but when you unlocked the phone screen you had nothing from her. You scrunch your lips together in a pout off to the side of your face, eyebrows furrowing in frustration as you felt a little bit of a sting come to your eyes.

You knew nothing was wrong with them because the message had been read not too long ago, she just didn’t respond. Your mother wasn’t cruel, she wasn’t blatantly ignoring you, they were just… busy.

Clenching your jaw slightly, you locked your phone again and tossed it carelessly back into your locker. When you closed it, you jumped a little in fright, standing barely a few inches away from you was a boy. You clutched the shirt of your uniform where your heart was trying to beat out of your chest, shutting your eyes as your gasped for breath. “Oh my God,” You huffed.

“Ah, sorry (y/n)!” The boy responded nervously, eyes going wide and extending his hands out to try and calm things. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

As you caught your breath you answered him, “It’s okay, Touma, I just didn’t see you. How are you?”

“I’m good,” He said, shooting you a closed-eye smile as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants. “How are you? You look really pretty today, well everyday, so I guess that’s nothing new-“

You watched the third-year boy as he continued to rant nervously, you should probably stop him because he was talking in circles. He shrugged his shoulders from under the white uniform jacket he was wearing, they were broad and looked athletic and you knew that was directly because of his many years playing baseball for your school. His light hair was cut short and close to his head, he had probably gotten it newly cut before school started. He was what people would consider averagely handsome, not beautifully so like Oikawa and not ruggedly so like Iwaiz-

Excuse you, what?

You shook the very random, very alarming thought from your head and focused back on what the boy in front of you was still talking about. “I’m sorry, I spaced out. What did you say?”

“No problem!” He smiled brightly, waving you off. “I was just asking if it was true.”

“Is what true?” You narrowed your eyes at him very slightly, not looking forward to what kind of rumor he was going to repeat for you. In your experience when people ask ‘is it true’, it was usually about something bad.

“You and Oikawa?” He asked, an almost hopeful look in his eyes as he looked at you. “I mean, I saw that picture on your profile but wasn’t really sure-”

“Yes.” You said, a clipped tone to your voice. “It’s new, -ish, but yes.”

“O-oh,” Touma visibly deflated, shifting slightly to take a small step back from you. “Yeah, I thought maybe it was a new thing. Nobody had really heard anything about it so-”

“Yep!” You interrupted, not wanting him to dig into a hole of trying to figure out just how and why you and Oikawa were together. You were sure that if anyone with half a brain thought about it hard enough and long enough, they would probably come to the true realization of what was going on. That it was fake. You wanted to distract him away from that. “It was kind of a whirlwind and even surprising for us to have it happen, but we are together now. I’ve really got to get going, Touma, good luck with baseball!”

You left the boy standing at your locker, a dejected look still on his face. You were sure he was probably one of those Oikawa had mentioned to you previously that were hoping to ask you out when the school year started. You had to give him credit, at least he came up and talked to you about it, rather than just speculating rumors and letting that dictate his emotions. When you looked back in his direction before going into your classroom, you saw a few of his teammates patting him on the shoulders, comforting him, probably telling him that there were other fish in the sea.

- - - - -

“What even is that? That’s not a language.”

You let out a short laugh as Oikawa attempted to peer over your shoulder at your open calculus textbook. He squinted hard at the numbers and symbols on the page, tilting his head like a confused puppy when he couldn’t quite make out the meaning. “That’s because it’s not a language, Tooru, it’s math.”

“That’s not math,” He shook his head, straightening up his posture and pointing down at the page. “That is witchcraft.”

“Dummykawa,” Iwaizumi mumbled from his place across the table from you.

The three of you had gathered at your home after school and practices. You and Iwaizumi had intended on getting in a good study session for an upcoming test in your college prep class, Oikawa was intent on making sure that didn’t happen. Your dog was also wandering around, switching between resting his head on your lap and scaring Oikawa with his slobbery huffs to get out of the way. It was amusing to see him skitter away from the massive dog.

“Mean, Iwa.” Oikawa whined. “I’m so glad I’m not taking a math class like that. Cooking is so fun!”

“Maybe so,” You chripped. “But when you are sitting in your college math class next year-”

“Probably crying,” Iwaizumi added.

“Definitely crying,” You agreed, pointing your pen at him. “You are going to wish you hadn’t taken a cop-out class in your third year.”

“I’ll just get a cute girl to help me,” Oikawa smugly crossed his arms across his chest and turned his chin upwards. You spared a look at Iwaizumi and he only rolled his eyes and the childish antics of his friend. “When will you guys be done?”

“Not for a while,” You told him, gesturing to the expanse of papers spread out around you. Oikawa was fidgeting around, bouncing slightly on his feet as he looked at all the work that still needed to be done. “How about you take my boy on a walk?”

At the mention of the word, your dog stood up excitedly and let out a loud bark. He jumped and started to pace around the counter in your kitchen while whining. Oikawa watched with a twitch in his eye, unsure about going up against the massive mastiff in a battle of leash tugging. “I don’t know…”

“Oh he’d love it, Tooru!” You got up and grabbed the leather leash waiting by the back door, clipping it onto the collar and handing it over to Oikawa. “Just around the block a few times, then when you’re back we should be close to done and we can all eat! Thanks!”

You shut the sliding door behind Oikawa and your dog, the former yelling and calling out commands as he was pulled along mercilessly. You leaned back against the door and let your head fall backwards as you sighed, appreciating the silence that finally fell across your house.

“I don’t know how you’ve done it for so long,” You laugh as you sit back down at the table with Iwaizumi with a huff.

“There are times where I feel like I can’t,” He laughed, a laugh without an eye roll - which impressed you. “But he’s loyal, always been there for me, makes me better, so I gotta stick with him.”

You smiled over at him although he was still looking at his book so he didn’t notice until the silence continued. He looked up and his eyes locked with yours. He was smiling, a genuine smile and you swore in that moment you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time - if ever. A prickling on your cheeks and a drop in your stomach made you quickly turn back to your studies out of fear of embarrassing yourself.

What would you be embarrassed about? You thought, you were literally just smiling at the guy.

Little did you know that that smile was much more to both you and him.

“Um,” You cleared your throat. “Do you think you’ll want to get together again to study? I have a feeling things aren’t going to get easier and I really am not going to have time to fall behind.”

“Yeah, definitely.” He nodded, still watching you. He noticed that you seemed a little flustered and he couldn’t help but hope it was because of him. Even if you were just Oikawa’s fake girlfriend, he knew he should probably (read: definitely) not be thinking that way. “Do you mind if we stick to meeting here or school? My place is… complicated.”

That caught your attention. You glanced at him without lifting your head, seeing his gaze space out and become unfocused. “Complicated like please don’t ask?” You asked, making him look at you while you continued to hunch over your studies. “Or complicated like I’m going to act like I don’t want you to ask but please ask me so I can finally spill my guts?”

Iwaizumi chuckled, “Who do you think I am? Oikawa? No, I just live with my grandma is all and if I bring a pretty girl over, even if I explain that she is just a friend, she is still going to have our wedding planned by the end of the night.”

“Aw, Iwa~” You laughed, settling your chin in your hand to coo teasingly at him. “I’m sure your grandmother would plan a lovely wedding for us!”

He rolled his eyes at your teasing, back to his annoyed self. But as you turned back to your work you almost slapped yourself at the thought that crossed your mind. He called you pretty.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #hq!!#hq #hq x reader #Iwaizumi Hajime #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu iwaizumi hajime #hq fanfic

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keelywolfe · 5 years ago

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FIC: Not What It’s Cracked Up To Be ch.6 (baon)

Summary: Edge and Stretch are finally getting back on an even keel. Edge’s broken leg is healing well, Spring is finally here and the flowers are close to blooming.

Be a shame if anything disturbed their domestic bliss.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Fluff, Chickens, Depression

Notes: As a heads up, this chapter includes a depiction of depression.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Read Chapter 6 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

By the time Edge made his way back to the car and was headed for home, Red’s prediction about his leg singing was coming true, going from an enthusiastic Ave Maria to operatic scales in no time. He was long past the doctor’s instruction of only spending two hours at a time standing and the twinges of pain were running into a constant throb.

Sitting in the driver’s seat was somewhat better. It took his weight off his aching limb and driving at idling speed kept him from having to press too often on the brake or gas pedal. Even so, when he pulled into his own driveway, Edge was sweating through his shirt and working at breathing through the discomfort. Time to get this finished and get his leg up, because re-injuring it was not going to help Stretch’s depression in the slightest.

Next to him, Nugget’s basket was carefully buckled into the passenger seat and he noted wryly that at least one of them was enjoying the journey. She’d kept up a stream of warbling chatter the entire drive that was rather reminiscent of her owner.

“All right, time to get you back home,” Edge announced. He reached over to unbuckle the seat belt, guiding it back against the seat since he didn’t trust this comedy of errors not to continue by knocking the poor creature out with a badly timed buckle retraction. “I’m sure Noodle and Dumpling will be happy to see you.”

And if they weren’t, Stretch certainly would. He hoped.

Edge took a steadying breath and climbed out of the car, grimacing as renewed pain shot up to his femur. Damn the blasted thing, anyway, he was going to have to ice the cartilage for a while and he certainly wasn’t going to be up to making anything for dinner. Asking Stretch was out of the question, which meant he might need to call for reinforcements.

Even the idea of asking anyone for help, particularly in the kitchen, made Edge’s hackles rise, but better that than having Stretch see him hurting or worse, having to go back to the doctor and admit that a mere two days after having his cast removed, he was already disobeying their instruction.

Blue would probably be the best option and of course he was certain to be so incredibly pleased about the situation…Edge cut the bitter thought off hard, dismissing it firmly as unworthy. Whatever frictions existed between him and Blue, they were still friends, and all Blue ever wanted was for his brother to be healthy and happy. Whatever issues he’d had with their relationship, he’d never tried to interfere or dissuade Stretch from it. It would be petty to hold his concern against him, even if he could occasionally be aggravating and normally Edge wouldn’t even indulge the thought. Today, though, ah, today he was tired from his broken sleep the night before, riled by his brother, aggrieved by his aching leg, and worried about his husband. If his control was running a little ragged, today of all days it could be excused.

Nugget flapped her wings, resettling into the basket and startling Edge from his thoughts. He shook his head, opening the passenger door to retrieve poultry and basket alike. He’d deal with dinner when the time came, for now he had a recalcitrant chicken to return home.

The side gate was a shorter path than through the house and Edge limped through it, leaning heavily on his cane as he went to the coop.

To his dismay, Noodle and Dumpling did not come running out to greet him when he opened the fence. Edge frowned, setting the basket inside the gate and went to check the coop doors. He’d left them unfastened that morning, but the coop itself was empty, no eager chickens to greet him while demanding pets and treats.

“Stretch,” Edge said aloud, all his worries coalescing into a hard ball in his chest as he grabbed up Nugget again and headed for the house. He left Nugget in her basket just inside the sliding glass door, trusting that she wouldn’t wander from her makeshift nest or her ‘eggs’.

The stairs were somewhat painful to navigate but worse was finding their bedroom empty, the covers thrown carelessly back. So was the bathroom, the guest room, and panic was starting to take hold when Edge fairly stumbled back down the stairs, half-ready to call his brother and demand he locate his husband, where would he have gone—

A suspiciously chicken-y sound coming through the kitchen door derailed his fears. Edge paused and listened closer, and yes, that was a loud caw coming from his kitchen, along with the skitter of scaly feet.

His relief was dizzying, leaving him leaning weakly on his cane. Edge sighed inwardly and went to the door, carefully pushing it open.

The pair from the Embassy team had done a decent job at cleaning away most of the detritus of Red’s ‘accident’ from the kitchen. They’d cleared away the broken table and chairs, cleaned up the worst of the paint, and left his kitchen if not as it was then at least usable until they had a chance to remodel it.

There by the center island was Noodle, curiously inspecting the tiles and Dumpling was on the other side, pecking lightly at the paint-dappled cupboards with great interest. Their claws clicking on the hard floor as they scampered around, inspecting their temporary quarters. In one corner was Stretch, sitting curled up where their dining room table used to be. He was dressed somewhat haphazardly, his dirty feet bare beneath the legs of his track pants and swaddled into an elderly sweatshirt washed to a faded pastel. He didn’t look up at Edge, only sat watching the chickens, a lit cigarette dangling from between two fingers. As relieving as it was to see him out of bed, Edge couldn’t help but see the stains of exhausted orange beneath his sockets were deep, an advertisement of a sleepless night followed by a restless day.

Edge stepped in further, the rubber tip of his cane squeaking against the tile and only then did Stretch look up, his pale eye lights skittering nervously back and forth between Edge’s and the floor. A cylinder of ash dropped unnoticed from the tip of his cigarette, joining a scattering already on the tile and Stretch swallowed convulsively, ducking his head as he muttered out, “i know, i know they can't stay, but i thought, just for today maybe, they can stay here and be safe, right? i thought it would be okay for one day, please don't be mad—"

“Love, I'm not angry, not at all,” Edge told him softly. The words went unheard, Stretch rambling on desperately.

“…and it's only for today and maybe some of tomorrow, i know they have to go back out, but i couldn’t stop thinking about it, i couldn’t, and i’m not fucking up again, i can’t, not today—”

“Papyrus,” Edge said, sharply, and that cut through his babble. His head jerked up, eye lights too-wide and diffused. “You didn’t fuck up the first time, listen to me—”

“i know that!” Stretch burst out. He curled up tighter, drawing his legs up, his face pressed into his upraised knees and his arms wrapped around his skull, muffling his words. “i know, there was nothing i could have done, what even could i? i’m not a fucking fox hunter, i didn’t know. my soul knows it so why does my head keep telling me i’m wrong? why won’t my head shut up, why does it always have to tell me i’m a bad friend, a bad brother, i’m awful, why am i so awful?”

Stretch’s shoulders shook, his voice going thick and wet with tears and the sound of it was ripping at Edge’s own soul like jagged claws. All right, then, if Stretch wasn’t going to let him talk, then drastic measures might be best.

Edge spun around and left the kitchen, even if his soul protested vehemently at leaving his husband weeping alone. It was a matter of moments to snatch up the chicken-filled basket and bring it in, hauling it grimly despite the warning throb in his leg. Right back through the swinging door to plop the entire thing right in front of Stretch’s bare toes.

That blasted cigarette of his was dangerously close to burning a hole in his sweatshirt, but Nugget’s happy coos made Stretch jerk upright, staring disbelievingly at the small black chicken who only tilted her head inquisitively as if to ask what was the big deal, here she was, ready to join the party.

“oh,” Stretch mumbled. The still smoldering cigarette fell unnoticed from his fingers, shedding ash as it rolled across the tile. Edge hastily retrieved it and flicked it into the sink. He turned back just as Stretch reached out cautiously, disbelieving, settling his bare hand on Nugget’s back before Edge could call out a belated warning. But perhaps Nugget was growing more accustomed to returning to society or perhaps she simply trusted Stretch more to not lift her away from her so-called eggs. She chirruped contentedly, leaning into his touch as he gasped, sockets going wide. “she…how did…you…”

“It seems she was better equipped to defend herself against the fox than we thought,” Edge told him. It seemed better to leave Red’s interference out, at least for now and likely forever. “She ran off and was nesting out in Old New Home.”

“you brought her back to me,” Stretch whispered, in pained wonderment. A fresh wash of tears fell from his sockets, pale orange trickling down, gathering to drip from his chin.

“Love, don’t—" Edge tried. He started to sit and nearly fell in his attempt, luckily unnoticed as his leg finally gave out, and Stretch only sagged into his arms, his hand still resting on Nugget’s soft feathers.

“you found her,” Stretch choked out. He buried his face into Edge’s shirt, hot tears quickly soaking through the thin cloth. “you found…” Then, to Edge’s dismay, he shuddered out, “i’m so sorry. you shouldn’t’ve had to, she’s my responsibility, i should’ve gone looking instead of making an ass out of me assuming. sorry, i’m sorry—” He didn’t resist as Edge pulled him closer, only leaned against him and kept up that whispered litany, “sorry, should’ve and didn’t. just feels like one more thing i failed at.”

Edge tightened his grip and gave Stretch a little shake, almost rough as he said fiercely, “You didn’t fail at anything, certainly not this.”

“but—"

“No. Why do you expect so much from yourself?” Edge demanded softly and he wasn’t surprised to not get an answer. “I don’t know what’s going on in that troublesome mind of yours, but I’m telling you, it’s wrong. You have a great deal on your plate just as the others do and we both know people have been keeping certain things from us because I am supposed to be convalescing and you are supposed to be helping me. So, whatever is bothering you, we can discuss it if you want or not discuss it if you don’t, but you haven’t failed at anything, do you understand me?”

Stretch nodded, but his grip on Edge was still too tight, knuckles flexing convulsively. He whispered into Edge’s shirt, his voice was barely audible. “sometimes i feel like your life would be a lot easier without me.”

Simply hearing those words forced Edge to close his sockets, breathing through the roil of frustration that lit hotly in his soul. Stretch needed his understanding, not his temper, his internal demons were doubt, not of Edge, but of himself. The automatic answer was, ‘of course it wouldn’t.’ But that would be disingenuous, a lie of the kind told to children to soothe their hurts. Stretch was not a child and he would not be fooled by pat answers.

Instead, Edge took the time to consider it. Recalled his life before Stretch, the long days of work at the Embassy and then evenings at the Y. His brother stopping in for aggravation and dinner as Edge slowly learned more about cooking than Underfell could ever teach him. Movie nights and gardening days, uncomplicated pleasures coupled with satisfying work.

“That’s true, it might be easier,” Edge conceded. He held on tighter when Stretch stiffened, trying to pull away. “But it certainly wouldn’t be better. Plenty of things could be easier, I could stay here in this house, collecting my stipend and have my groceries delivered. I could tend my garden and might never need to go out again. That would be easier, if easy was all I wanted.” Gently, he slipped two gloved fingers beneath Stretch’s chin, urging him to look up. He met that teary gaze with his own steady one as he said, “Easy isn’t happy, love, and nothing has ever made me happier than being with you.”

Because he’d learned that pleasures were better with complications, when his gardening was interrupted by unexpected hugs, when his dinners were filled with excited chatter instead of silence or sarcasm. That he looked forward to leaving work when there was someone to come home to, and that stars were lovelier when seen through the lens of Stretch’s sight.

Stretch was blinking too hard, sniffling accusingly, “you sap.”

Just like that, the pained tension in him eased and Edge let out a chuff of laughter, shaking his head.

He drew Stretch back down to his chest and reached over to take Stretch’s hand in his own, his thumb skimming over slender fingers. Stretch was wearing one of his silicon rings, not the metal band with precious stones that Edge gave him when he pledged to love and cherish him, but the simpler one given for practical reasons, in bright day-glo colors to make him smile. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Some time ago my brother told me I could be happy if only I wanted to. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time. You helped me understand and the only place I ever want to be is with you. You can’t fail at that, you can’t fuck that up, so long as you’re here, with me. All right?”

“yeah, okay,” Stretch sighed out. He snuggled in closer and if his voice was still tremulous, his words were stronger, “can we stay here a little longer?”

“Of course.” Edge shifted until he was leaning against the wall, pulling Stretch to lay in between his legs and holding him tightly against his chest, over the soft pulse of his soul.

The kitchen floor was designed for easy cleanup and aesthetic, not for sitting and his tailbone was already protesting. He needed to ice his aching leg, the chickens needed to be shut back into their coop, and they could both use a real nap before figuring out what to do for dinner.

But that could all wait, just a little longer.

-finis

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

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Heat Haze Daze

song is Kangerou Days by Kagepro and was also my bop back in seventh grade

———————

With a chilling vibrato, Jane concluded her performance of At Last. Instantly, there was a booming swell of cheering and clapping, and a very radiant look of adoration from both Kitty and Joan. The silver queen smiled bashfully, but proudly and bowed. A second later, Anne crashed into her, spinning her around in a tight hug.

“Oh! My! God!!!” Anne exclaimed, clasping Jane’s hands in hers mere minutes after releasing her from the bear hug. “That was so amazing!! You did so good, Janey!!!”

“Oh please,” Jane waved a hand dismissively. “It wasn’t that good.”

“Don’t be modest,” Aragon said. “You have a wonderful voice, dear.” Her retort was backed up by several agreeing comments in the whirlwind of a comment section on the Live.

Jane blushed. “Thank you, Catalina. Thank you everyone, really!”

After a few more compliments and Jane struggling to not be humble, the Sunday Session was wrapped up.

Or so they all thought.

“W-wait-” A nervous, shaking voice squeaked. “I’m sorry. Can I sing something?”

They all looked over to their fidgety pianist, who can’t seem to stop tugging anxiously on the straps of her overalls. Suddenly, she looked a lot younger and her choice of outfit seemed a lot dumber, but fitting for her current shy demeanor. Only Joan would wear such a thing with a sunflower yellow shirt underneath, despite it being 2020.

“You?” Kitty said. She glanced Joan up and down, as if she were trying to find an ounce of vocal talent in her. “Why?”

“Because I want to.” Joan said, gathering herself up to her full size and this time not stammering, although she didn’t seem any more mature in those stupid overalls. “Please? I have this song I wanted to sing and I’ve really been practicing and...” She trailed off, opting to look up at the queen with hopeful eyes.

Despite most of them not being all that close with Joan, they had to admit that those puppy dog eyes were extremely effective, so they gave in and agreed. Instantly, Joan perked up. It seemed she wasn’t expecting them to say yes.

“Oh joy!” Joan exclaimed in glee. She skittered back over to her keyboard, tripping momentarily on one of the crisscrossing wires on the floor in her excitement. She nearly toppled over when she sat down in her stool, but regained her balance and flashed a grin at the queens and the phone pointed at her. “Ready?”

There’s a scattering of agreements, both in person and in the chat, although she couldn’t see those. She beamed again, then promptly straightened herself up and turned to her keyboard.

In an instant, her glowing smile and shimmering eyes were wiped, leaving her face blank and focused. But even then, it was clear her nerves were beginning to take over, knowing that tons of people, including the ones she desperately wanted to impress and the ones that didn’t like her at all, were there, watching her.

Joan’s stomach flipped at the thought of singing in front of so many fans and the queens. She’d sung before, but nothing like this. Not where other people really noticed or heard her. Stage fright began to get the better of her as she awkwardly fidgeted for a moment, then got her fingers into the right place and began to play an upbeat, fast-paced tune. A moment later, her voice resonated through the air.

“August 15th at 12:30 noon I don't see a cloud above

The sun is shining down, what a pretty day

So sick of this summer heat I can't beat away the haze

The rays are giving way

And spending all of my time having conversations sitting next to you”

The words, slightly rough from a lack of a vocal career, slide gently from her lips. They shake and shudder as they come out, but hold strong and don’t fracture on the tip of her tongue like a few of the queens and many of the viewers were expecting.

Joan was actually singing.

And she was singing good.

“"Hey but I...don't really like the summertime"

And as you were petting on that cat you said such a daring thing

Right from under your breath”

It was amazing. Sure, it was no Heart of Stone or All You Wanna Do, and maybe her voice wavered and strained on simple notes a few times, but Joan was actually doing really well. A lot better than anyone was expecting. In fact, Kitty had been betting that she would have failed the moment she opened her mouth.

“Ah, and as that cat had ran away

You tried to chase it in the end

Jumping right out in front of a

Traffic light that poured a shade of red bright red”

And then, things took a jarring twist.

“Crashing in and breaking you to bits

That truck a heard a scream a little bit too late

Blood dripping everywhere and choking your smell of hair

I breathe in a gulp of air and just can't take it

Are these lies? The heat is mocking me

"What you see is exactly what you're gonna get!"

And with the blue of sky I hear singing crickets cry and

Fall right back into another dark sleep”

It happened out of nowhere- the peaceful, serene song Joan had been singing suddenly wrenched around and turned into something much more sinister with enough force to give everyone watching whiplash. The warm summer day she sang of was gone, replaced by the gruesome image of a grueling car accident. And her tone helped portray that perfectly.

Joan’s voice was dripping with gore. It oozed from her lips like pus from an abscess and stained any ears that heard the lullaby of carnage she was harmonizing. Her eyes were lit up, too, wide and shining silver. She rocked back and forth as she sang, sometimes leaning forward against her keyboard on the more intense notes, only to lean back and relax on the lighter ones, although every word in that chorus seemed to be gratuitously gruesome.

And then, her words die off and the tune of her keyboard morphed back into a gentle, peaceful hum.

“Sitting up in my bed I could hear ticking clocks the shock

Will mock my ever ringing head

I look to see the time

August 14th at 12 something noon I don't see a cloud above

The sun is shining down

And yet I hear a cry of a cricket singing loudly in my head”

The queens were shocked into silence, and not just out of respect during a performance. They were genuinely stunned by the darkness of Joan’s song. And, yes, they knew that she had her own pent up emotions, but never in a million years did they expect their shy, soft-spoken, stuttering music director to ever sing such a thing.

It was startling. Actually startling.

“"Hey but I...I really have to wonder why

Because in the dream I had last night we sat in the

Same old park we are sitting at now

"Hey, I think the two of us should leave."

But stepping slightly off the path, their heads turned up towards sky

And were gaping pointing struggling to keep away a scream”

Something flashed in Joan’s eyes. The queens braced themselves.

“Stabbing holes and splitting you in two

The beam made seam as it fell straight from the sky

Ringing an old wind chime and shaking a passerby then filling the air

Until they hit those park trees

Are these lies? The heat is mocking me

"Bet you wish you were asleep, but it's not a dream!"

Vision it blurred away and keeping my thoughts at bay I swear you stood there while keeping such a dark smile”

A tidal wave of carnage spilled free from Joan’s lips and crashed over the queens. Another vivid death is laid out for them, this one somehow much worse than the first.

The reactions to such a thing were mixed.

Aragon had her chin raised in an impressed manner. She was stunned to see Joan sing such a thing, but proud nonetheless.

Anne looked a little dizzy, as she wasn’t the best with blood, even blood in a song. She shut her eyes, trying not to think about what was happening to the poor girl being sung about, but ultimately failing.

Jane was startled. The look in Joan’s eyes gave her chills, making her feel entirely exposed even though she’s just another face in the crowd at that moment, another spectator in the small Sunday Session audience.

Cleves hadn’t expected Joan of all people to sing a song like this. She didn’t think she had it in her, so the girl had her captivated.

Kitty was backed up against Jane, her face twisted with disgust and fear. She kept looking up at her mother, hoping her pleading eyes would make her yell at Joan to stop and shut up, but she was dismayed to see Jane far too engulfed in the song to notice her distress.

Cathy was intrigued. She never really took Joan for the type to sing, and yet, here she was. And her transitions from slow to fast, from relaxed to intense, from soft to loud, where smooth and amazing. Especially the one right after the first chorus- an elongated, downward spiral of madness.

“Endlessly I see that over heated haze

And again the laughing will repeat on through the days

You've been dying for the past ten years

We are trapped in cycles and the end is never clear”

Joan’s voice has softened, as was her playing. The notes echoed around the auditorium, soft and mournful. It sounded like the ghosts of ancient monarchs whispering from beneath the floorboards.

“But a story is a story all the same

And today like any has an ending so to say

Far away and out beyond that scorching summer day”

For a moment, all is silent. The queens get just a second to breathe and recover from the madness they had just heard, and then Joan is slamming her hands down on the keys and sliding them down the keyboard, causing an awful, but fitting shriek to pierce through the air.

“Crashing in and hitting me instead you

I pushed you aside to nearly dodge a truck

Blood dripping everywhere and choking my smell of hair

You breathe in a gulp of air and just can't take it

Are these lies? I haven't heard him say

"What you see is exactly what your gonna get"”

Her voice is soft at first, but then it builds up and up and up until it’s an uproar of blood-soaked words and shrill, screaming notes. Her eyes are lit up again, this time even brighter, and her vibrato shuddered in the air. At the last line, she suddenly leapt to her feet, knocking over her stool and continuing to play enthusiastically while keeping pace with her music.

“Maybe this summer day has finally gone away

But that's all I'll say so this is where it ends now”

Before the instrumental took over, she slammed her fingers down on the keys and cried over the wailing sound, singing louder and louder and louder.

“August 14th and sitting alone on a bed a girl awakes repeating just the same

Muttering again

"Guess I failed again.." as she sat all alone

And held a cat still cradled in her arms”

With a few final notes, the song concluded. Joan stumbled back, taking deep, heaving breaths. Sweat is dripping down her reddened face. She didn’t bother to wipe it away, instead whipping around to the queens with an eager expression.

“Well?” She said, beaming at their gobsmacked expressions. “What did you think?”

#im not the best at song fics B U T #enjoy #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six fanfic #six fanfiction #jane seymour #anne boleyn #katherine howard #catherine of aragon #joan on the keys #anna of cleves #catherine parr

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 5 years ago

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What Might Have Been - 13

CW: onscreen but mild violence, lots of threats

This is part 13 in my ongoing fic for @goodomenscelebration‘s theme prompts.

The full fic can be read on AO3:

Unlucky

Two angels settled in front of him. Then another behind. And two to either side.

“Aw, all this for me?” He grinned as broadly as he could, holding the starter handle casually to the side, not threatening, but making sure they could see it. “Nice to meet you all. I’m –”

“Anthony J. Crowley,” one of the angels spat. “The Serpent of Eden.”

Crowley frowned in surprise. “Guess my reputation really does proceed me.”

“Did you think we wouldn’t recognize you in this form?” One of the angels grabbed at his wing, tugging on the black feathers. “Who authorized these?”

“How did he get here?” one angel demanded.

“The Antichrist must have summoned him,” the first replied, then pinned Crowley with a glare. “Where did he go? And why would the Beast want you?”

“That’s just…really rude,” Crowley commented, already sizing up the angels. The one who had started speaking was at least a Virtue, two ranks above Aziraphale. Two of the others were Principalities, maybe more. And was that Ofaniel standing behind him, the Angel of the blessed Moon? “And I don’t know where he’s gone. Just vanished. Teenagers, though, what do you expect?”

Ofaniel slammed a fist into Crowley’s spine, leaving him sprawled on the ground. “Why did he bring you here? Did you think you could escape through the hole in the sky?”

“You’ve noticed it then?” Crowley tried to sit up, but one of the angels stamped a foot between his shoulder blades, grinding his face back into broken asphalt, his wings thrashing helplessly. Another foot slammed down towards his hand, but he jerked away in time. The angel had the starter handle trapped, but not Crowley's fingers.

“Wouldn’t have worked, anyway,” Ofaniel said. “We’ve been investigating it for hours. There’s no way to get through.”

“Oh, that was not the news I wanted to hear today,” Crowley groaned, feeling his bones run cold. Could be wrong. Could be lying. They didn’t notice me flying out. That’s gotta mean something.

“We’re wasting our time here,” snapped Ofaniel. “We can interrogate him back in the cell.”

Interrogate? Considering how things were going, they were interested in a lot more than a few questions. "Nh, sorry fellas. I've got plans today already.”

Fast as he could, Crowley shifted again, back to a black rat but small as he could imagine it, almost gerbil-sized. The angel pinning him down fell over, and he tore across the asphalt, paws skittering, dodging between legs and hands that reached down but couldn’t grasp him.

Crowley charged towards the edge of the pavement. There’d been something like an abandoned barn a short way back, he might be able to get there first if he was very, very lucky.

But the moment his paws touched the dying earth, he knew there was no chance of that. It burned through him like acid, like holy water only not holy in the least, every muscle in his body clenched and spasmed, tossing him about on his back. Squirming as if he were still a snake.

Relief finally came when a hand clenched him, squeezing his body too tight. A loud, echoing voice said something, but Crowley was too far gone to hear.

He came to, lying on his side, one wrist held in a chain that burned, but only a little compared to the earth he’d foolishly stepped on. He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but his mouth felt dry and funny, so probably some time. One of his wings was pressed against the wall behind him at an awkward angle. His free hand rubbed across his face and eyes, then froze.

“Glasses,” he muttered, sitting up. “Where’s…”

A click of metal on metal.

Crowley blinked in the dark to see an angel sitting on a chair not ten feet away, holding his folded-up glasses. Long dark hair hung to his shoulders, flat and straight, in contrast to his thick, white beard. “Ah. You’re up,” he said, eyes glittering kindly.

“What happened? I don’t remember…”

“You stepped on ground that was cursed by Abaddon. No creature of the Earth can touch it. The blight started in several locations and now covers a third of the world.”

“Abaddon? Wanker,” Crowley muttered. They were in a room, he could tell that much despite his still-fuzzy vision. Square. Completely enclosed on all sides. Presumably there was a door somewhere, but if his captor was an angel, not necessarily. “I touched it before though…”

“Yes, in this almost-angelic form, you would be safe, and in your true form as a serpent.”

“S’not my true form,” Crowley muttered, pulling himself up by the chain around his wrist. He got as far as a sitting position before his head started pounding again and his stomach twisted, bile rising. Good enough for now. He swallowed, and felt a second chain around his neck, thin and flexible like a choker. “This is.”

“You can tell yourself that, but we both know the truth. In any case, you were in an earthly form when you stepped on it. That’s curious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a demon take a form like that before.”

“Yeah. ‘S gonna be all the rage soon.” Right. No doors, no windows, just the angel, the chain, and some sort of coil of rope on the floor by the opposite wall. He couldn’t wait to find out what that was for.

“That would certainly make things interesting, but I think you’re lying.” He inspected Crowley’s glasses, the red flames down the arm. “Is it a common ability, where you come from?”

“Uh…you just said you didn’t think so…”

And as Crowley watched in horror, the angel pulled out a second pair of glasses, inhumanly black lenses, silver frame, wide face shields to hide even a glimpse of the eyes from the side. The glasses he'd worn four years ago, until the airbase, until he and Aziraphale... “These new ones expose more of your face. That suggests something is different. Or perhaps simply changed in the last few years?”

“I – where did you get those?” Crowley scrambled forward, tugging at the ground with his feet, but the chain around his wrist didn’t let him move far. “How could you…”

The coil of rope shifted.

“Ah. Something changed then. I can’t wait to find out what.” The angel stood up and walked towards him. Crowley scrambled again, this time away, towards the corner, chain pulling his arm across his chest. He flared his wings as best he could in the cramped quarters.

“Enough of that.” And his wings vanished.

“How did you do that?” Crowley demanded, surging to his feet, ignoring the cracking pain in his skull. “Who are you?”

The angel waved a finger, and Crowley’s legs twined together, solidifying, becoming a serpent’s tail again, black and red scales climbing across his stomach and up to his ribs. He fell back to the floor with a cry, arm jerking painfully in his socket.

The coil of rope shifted again. It was, he realized, far too thick to be rope. Too black, except where it was red. And held about the middle with a silver cuff and chain.

“You know, I’m very fortunate. I never imagined I would have a chance to introduce myself to you again, but here we are.” He smiled, and somehow it still radiated warmth and kindness. “I am Shoftiel, angel of punishment. And for the past four years…”

The rope in the corner twisted, rearing up, turning an arrow-shaped head and a pair of shining golden eyes to look across the room, flicking a tongue in interest. It had a golden choker around its neck, thin and flexible, just like Crowley’s.

“…I have been the prison warden for the Serpent of Eden.”

(Shoftiel, “Judge of God” is one of the Seven Angels of Punishment, who are themselves ruled by the Angel(s) of Death.)

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens celebration #goc2020 #crowley #snek crowley #hurt crowley #hurt no comfort #comfort later i promise #just much later #anthony j crowley #cw: violence #my writing #What Might Have Been #alternate universe #post apocalyptic

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