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songfell-ut · 4 months ago

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The High Priest

So you know how @iamjoekurose asked me about if Frisk met an opposite-gender version of herself? The idea high-key got its hooks in me and I procured a little something from the sublime @skyworkartzzz and this is male Frisk.

What's that, you say? Mr. Frisk isn't enough? Well too bad, I definitely didn't spend almost a week one-finger typing a la George RR Martin and this totally isn't a scene taking place the morning of All Souls Day in chapter 6. If it was, I'd clarify that this Frisk doesn't need help putting earrings on...it's a little more involved.

You also won't find a casual version of his outfit at the end of it beneath the cut. Nope nope.

Frisk half closed the bathroom door, eyes squeezed shut as he flicked on the witchlight. He slumped against the sink, groped around for the left handle, and ran the water at full blast, yawning mightily as the steam rose. First step, wet his face: grab a washcloth from the pile he knew was beside the tap, shake it out, and reach down to...jerk his hand back, his stupid brain catching up just in time to avoid being scalded. He forced his eyes open and adjusted the water temperature to a less damaging heat, muttering under his breath. He needed to hurry up and finish shaving, couldn't be late to tea with—

To his surprise, the door opened and Sans ducked inside, slumping onto the floor behind him. The skeleton gave him a little salute in the mirror and yawned wide enough to make Frisk wince a little. “Mornin', chief. Gettin’ dolled up already?”

Frisk didn’t dignify that with an answer—Sans had initially believed that “dolled up” applied to all humans dressing nicely, and when Frisk tried to explain that it mostly meant a woman putting on makeup, Sans insisted that all humans were the exact same, and Frisk was a human, and it was therefore a correct thing to say and he now said it almost every morning. Unfortunately, that happened to be how often he came in as Frisk was trying to shave, sitting far too close in the narrow space to pester him with smart remarks.

Well, Frisk had heard much, much worse, and on mornings when he wasn't tired and cranky, he generally didn't mind if Sans wanted to amuse himself observing human grooming rituals. At least he wasn't saying "Okay, I'll shave it for later" and making Frisk laugh too hard to get a blade near his face safely; he had had to order the giant skeleton out of the room and shut the door at least twice now.

Luckily, Sans remained silent as he watched this morning's routine unfold. Once Frisk had dunked the washcloth in the basin and scrubbed his face in a still-too-hot attempt to wake up, he tapped the vanity's middle drawer to remove the barrier. Therein lay a spotless straight razor, a large silver case of shaving soap, and an immaculate brush, kept locked up out of habit from the days at the monastery where everyone stole everyone else's bath items. The priest checked the soap and made a face at how thin it was getting, which amused Sans, judging by his smirk as their eyes met in the mirror; Frisk ignored him and wetted the brush down, swishing it across the soap till he worked up a good lather, and dabbed along the lines of his beard and mustache, tilting his head to slather it thickly beneath his jaw. Then he checked the mirror one more time to see if Sans thought that was funny, too - no, he just seemed mildly interested - and picked up the razor. It was time-consuming but not too difficult, just quick, careful movements to scrape the stuff off a few little strokes at a time—

Except Frisk was so tired and squinty that it wasn't long before he gave one little stroke too hard and flinched. “Dirt on a frigging—”

“Atta boy. Cuss away,” Sans said cheerfully, and gave another huge yawn, ignoring Frisk’s glare in the mirror. “Yer face is leakin’," he added. "Need some help?”

Frisk stared at the tiny trickle of blood that was indeed starting its way down his cheek, then sighed in defeat, wiping the blade on a hand towel. “If you could, please.” However smirky Sans was, there really was some benefit to having company with the power to heal stupid inju—

The razor was suddenly enveloped in red mist. "All righty, one sec." Frisk jumped as the blade tugged itself out of his grip and settled on the counter. “There we go. Now hol' still.” The priest watched Sans raise a bony finger and rest the very tip on Frisk's sleep-ruffled hair; a flick of green later, Frisk's cheek tingled as the cut vanished. "Done."

“Thank you,” Frisk said, scrubbing the blood away and steeling himself - ha, steel - to get back to work. Tired as he was, he couldn't walk out of here with only one side of his face done. But he’d probably be fine now that he was more awake, right? He wouldn’t be more nervous and likely to make another mistake in front of Sans, right? Ha ha, of course not. His hands weren't shaky at all from nerves or exhaustion...

Sans broke into his thoughts with a thoughtful sound. “Ya know what? Just lemme do it. Hold real still, okay?” He sat up, his finger curling very gently to rest over the crown of Frisk's head and keep him in place. “Seriously, don' even breathe wrong," he added, lifting the razor on another wisp of magic.

The human’s eyes widened, hands rising in protest as his brain caught up. "No, no, no thank you," he almost whispered, and cleared his throat, pulling enough of himself together to say louder, "Don't worry about that." He ducked out from beneath Sans' finger, smoothing his ruffled hair. "You're a bodyguard and a diplomat, not a valet."

"Dunno what that is. I'm guessin' somebody who shaves rich people?" Sans waggled the razor in midair. "Ya hired me to protect you from gettin' cut up, an' now you want me t'just sit here and watch ya play with sharp objects in your goddamn sleep? Dunno if I'm good enough ta heal you if ya take yer ear off."

That gave Frisk far too much pause before he could answer, "I'm not going to cut my ear off," with very patient dignity, trying to ignore a bit of lather dripping off his neck.

The boss monster snorted. Up came the shaving brush, but before Frisk could tell him to put it down or at least be careful with it, Sans' magic dipped it into the case almost daintily and worked up more soap. "Look, kiddo, lemme try it. If I fuck it up, I'll heal you an' I won't ever mention it again." The brush rose and drifted close enough to dab Frisk lightly on the neck, which tickled enough to make him crack a smile. "See?" Sans said gleefully. "We're good. Just hold still." And his forefinger settled again on the priest's rumpled head.

Frisk opened his mouth to order him out of the bathroom. But…after a long moment of panic warring with irritation and self-doubt, and hearty embarrassment...he swallowed, and, against his better judgment, said, “All right.” He allowed the razor to approach, and watched in the mirror as it drifted close enough for the lightest experimental scrp, scrp on his cheek. It paused, Sans meeting his eye for an inquiring stare; Frisk started to nod, and was stopped by a growl. He tried a smile instead, but that made his cheeks bunch up; he rolled his eyes instead, gesturing to keep going.

Sans chuckled. It seemed he had been watching the morning routine closer than Frisk thought, because there was no need to tell him to pull the skin taut for a closer shave: a speck of magic pressed just hard enough to help the blade pass over the stubble just so. A few swipes, a wipe on the towel, and Frisk let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I lied. You can breathe," Sans deadpanned, but when Frisk tried to smile, he got another reproving tap.

It was easier to mock-glare at Sans in the mirror than watch as the blade moved a little faster, with increasing surety, though the skeleton was intent on his work. Difficult as it was shaving oneself for the first time, never mind someone else, the razor made absolutely no nicks, no missed bits; Sans did pause frequently, forefinger tilting the priest’s head this way and that to check his work in the mirror— “Screw this,” the skeleton said presently. “Just turn around.”

With all the cool indifference of a boy letting his mother spit on her hand to fix his hair, Frisk shuffled around in a half circle and waited for more, only for Sans to chuckle again. “Don't give me that look, pal,” he said, sounding…exasperated, but something else, too.

That was it: the High Priest gave up any remaining dignity and sat down cross-legged on the bathroom floor. Sans shifted onto his side, jaw propped up on on hand, then took a sideways one-fingered hold on Frisk’s head and began scraping away again, much quicker and more confident than he ever was.

Well, dirt. The priest wanted desperately to say something, but his skin would be in peril if he moved his mouth; he opted to keep his eyes closed, allowing Sans to turn his head this way and that to get each side, gentle as always. He never touched him with any more force than necessary, Frisk thought, at least after that first encounter in his prison cell; even when the assassin was after him and Sans was physically maneuvering him to safety, he had been careful not to hurt him. Having much more direct proof of the monster's determination to protect him, trusting Sans with a literal blade at his neck? It was incredibly endearing.

Actually, given Frisk's thoughts of skeleton parts and pondering conjugal relations, it was better – worse? – than that. Definitely more confusing; all these years of struggling to muster interest in any of the women chasing him, of ignoring accusations of preferring men because if he did like them, he surely would have noticed it in all those years at the monastery—Frisk had started to think he was just...broken in that respect. Why in every circle of Hell was he feeling so strange about exposing his throat to a gigantic monster in total security that Sans wasn't going to hurt him? It wasn't fear that made his skin tingle like that, or at least not more than a tiny bit. It definitely felt nice, except that that wasn't the word for it.

When the process was finished, Sans gave a satisfied grunt. “Ha. See?” He nudged Frisk’s shoulder, and the High Priest shook himself, then obediently shuffled around in another half circle, then remembered to open his eyes and pull himself to his feet for an inspection in the mirror. “Beautiful,” the skeleton said triumphantly, setting the razor on the sink.

Wha— Frisk couldn’t help staring at him in the mirror, eyes wide, feeling and seeing his nicely shorn cheeks redden further. “Once again, you have the wrong word,” he said as coolly as possible, and tore his gaze away to busy himself rinsing and drying the brush and razor.

“Wha?” Sans blinked at him, sockets also going wide, and Frisk watched his cheekbones suddenly change color. “Not you, goddammit! Beautiful work,” snapped the boss monster. “As in, I told ya you needed help, an’ then I did it totally perfect. Not like I was gonna cut yer…” He gave a fake cough, evidently remembering that Frisk might not like to hear any hyperbole about having his throat cut.

“Yes, well done. Thank you,” Frisk said hastily, reaching for the towel and barely remembering to run cool water to splash his cheeks first. He needed something cool right now.

...

(His more everyday garb:)

#songfell #sans is the exact same #demisexual male frisk has the opposite problem as his counterpart #men of very high station are expected to be Manly and keep a few ladies on the side in addition to your wife #to not do this is very sus and also lonely #a full version is not getting written out soon but it is now in the queue #homophobia doesn't exist for monsters #humans are...a story #dongfell

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curiouslavellan · 4 months ago

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3, 4, 5, 9 for See Fire!

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

I'm gonna cheat and put two pieces here, because they're both good examples of me feeling confident in Aurelia's voice in different ways

The first is from chapter 2, while she's still Tranquil

While arguments began to repeat, Aurelia edged around him, kneeling at Denam’s side. Then she took his head in her hands and administered one of her own healing potions as carefully as possible. If he were too deeply unconscious, there was a chance the fluid would enter his lungs instead of his digestive tract, but if they did manage to rouse him at the moment he would probably just try to kill them again. She took the risk of the first option. Wiping her hands on her coat, she took the keyring from his belt and stood.

I feel like it's a good example of her still having agency without emotion, and a drive to heal/save people even while she's not totally capable of empathy. The entirety of the Therinfal section was great to show her asserting herself and making choices

The second one is from chapter 7, after she's cured and running away. It was around this point that I realized Aurelia was going to be chattier than I'd planned

Coming to Redcliffe had seemed like such an obvious plan. Are you a confused young mage who needs help controlling your powers? Go join the free mages! Is there some kind of magical bullshit you don’t understand stuck through your hand and you want it fixed? You should consult the free mages! Absolutely surrounded by templars and held captive by Chantry forces who sedated you against your will? Sounds like you need another group to join instead, and wouldn’t you know it, it’s less than a week’s journey to find, you guessed it, the free mages!

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“The Elder One isn’t so strong,” she announced. “I killed his pet Envy demon and the Inquisition took his templars.”

I was so stuck on this chapter for so long and finally got out of it by letting Aurelia completely fake-confidence her way through a speech about how Corypheus sucks lol

5: What part was hardest to write?

THE CONFRONTATION WITH ALEXIUS I fully rewrote it so many different times

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

The basic plot has remained pretty consistent but how individual parts played out changes a lot as I get to them.

At one point the plan to leave Haven was going to involve Aurelia stealing a horse and eventually getting thrown from it, which did not work out. She was originally going to be conscious when Dorian rescued/stole her from Redcliffe but that changed too. Like I said I had to rewrite the confrontation with Alexius a bunch and I tried so many different settings for it before placing it outside the Chantry. I also cut the whole second half of the Envy mindscape scene because it wasn't giving anything more interesting than the game so that's why we jumped to Cass POV in chapter 4.

So yeah, lots of chapter level alterations, but no complete overhauls

#ask games #herearedragons #black and gold #ty!!!

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protect-namine · 11 months ago

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I think we're conflating different things here. the "throne" and "archonhood" is not equivalent to a gnosis; they are equivalent to the "authority of the ancient dragons"

focalors said that the heavenly principles stole the authority of the ancient dragons. "authority" in this case means total control of an element, which is also how neuvillette himself explains it in his Q&A with the traveler. when focalors destroyed the throne of the hydro archon, she returned the authority over the hydro element back to neuvillette, and that's how he became (fully) the hydro dragon sovereign and had complete mastery of hydro enough to "absolve" fontainians of their "sin" and turn them into real humans. none of this required a gnosis.

skirk says that neuvillette's powers (prior to meeting up with arlecchino again) is made up of two things: the authority of the ancient dragons plus the remains of the third descender (AKA a gnosis).

like you mentioned, the gnosis can power machinery and programs and acts basically like an amplifier. it's not really required for having control over elements, as we can see with ei's thunderstorms and nahida's use of dendro post-sumeru archon quest. they still have authority over an element without a gnosis. what it does, however, is apparently tap directly into celestia for... mysterious unknown reasons. but I think we have clues that can point us in the right direction.

venti himself says in his Q&A portion of the prologue quest, "instead, each archon has an internal magical focus that resonates directly with celestia itself… known as a gnosis."

we actually get more info on the function of the gnosis from neuvillete's vision story:

Severely wounded in the great war of vengeance, the usurper (the primordial one) had their functions ruined, and could no longer use their absolute authority to suppress the original order of this world. To continue to subdue and control the resentments and loathing of the world, the usurper and one who came after created the Gnoses together. So it came to be that an order was made to be upheld, and thus did humans come to only possess these seven remembrances, and all fragments of the primordial were driven to devour each other. From that day on, whenever a person's wishes reached the heavens, the seven overseers of the material realm were duty-bound to grant them a gift. Though they might know nothing of who or what wish had stepped into the threshold of the sacred, the Seven Archons still had to impart a shattered shard of their mastery to that person. And when one so gifted completed their duty... the gift the gods would receive in return would be more abundant still.

okay, so the gnoses are somehow connected to how celestia can uphold order unto teyvat. "to continue to subdue and control the resentments and loathing of the world" is an interesting line. we know that when gods or god-like beings die, their resentments can manifest as curses and calamities. we see this with the tatarigami from orobashi, which not only created thunderstorms and contaminated the soil and made people sick in yashiori island, but it was also the power source for inazuma's delusions via the crystal bone marrows. we also see this in collei's story in the manga. she was injected with "archon residue", which is a mistranslation; she was injected with remains of dead gods from before the time of the archons. and she... did not have a good time, and almost even tried to kill kaeya.

the primordial one is an alien god that defeated the seven dragon sovereigns and created a new world for humanity. after the war, they probably slew a bunch of divine dragons which could cause tatarigami-like catastrophes if left unchecked. "to continue to subdue and control the resentments and loathing of the world" they created the gnoses from the remains of the third descender.

okay, but how does the gnosis uphold teyvat's new world order? this is going into speculation territory, but bear with me. I think it has to do with visions.

we know from neuvillette that visions are fragments of elemental mastery from someone with authority over that element (so either an archon, or neuvillette). but I think that only answers the question of where the source of elemental power comes from. it doesn't answer the second function of a vision: which is to assign a constellation or "fate" to the wielder.

in ei's about the visions voiceline:

Really? So in all this time, no new Electro Visions have appeared in the outside world? Well, what I can say on this topic is subject to certain constraints, but… it is not by my will that Visions are granted or denied. The key is people's desire, and… well, there's another side to it too.

archons don't control the distribution of visions (I'm pretty sure neuvillette willfully gifted one to furina. but since the throne of the hydro archon was destroyed, I guess he's technically an exception). in fact, visions can be handed out without their knowledge, even if they're taking "shattered shards of [the archon's elemental] mastery." electro visions have been handed out even when ei did not possess the gnosis while she was in her solitary eternity (except during the vision hunt decree). she didn't even know the the handing out of electro visions stopped.

celestia most likely handles that distribution, and they assign a "fate" to a vision-wielder based on the person's ambitions. it's speculation, but I'd wager that the gnosis is important for this process. because think about it: vision wielders gain some kind of "fate" and then afterwards, they "ascend" to celestia. going back to neuvillette's vision story: "And when one so gifted completed their duty... the gift the gods would receive in return would be more abundant still."

the fake sky, visions, fate, are all tied to celestia, and is likely the way celestia is able to uphold teyvat's laws and new world order. maybe it doesn't matter if the gnosis is not close to the archon of the same element, but it matters that they exist. the mystery of the third descender will probably also shed some light into this in later patches.

further speculation: remember how the remains of dead gods can lead to curses or curse-like phenomena? the primordial one and the second who came created the gnoses to "subdue and control the resentments and loathing of the world" but the gnoses by themselves don't really do anything. so, perhaps, the existence of vision-wielders are somehow vital for this objective. if not vision-wielders, then perhaps those who can ascend are the ones celestia is really looking for and actively recruiting to fight this battle.

edit: additional thing. we know that there are three realms in teyvat (light/vishap, abyss, and human). the human realm came to be after the primordial one took over, and I think lore related to this will be key to understanding more later down the line. like, leylines (memories) as the counterpart to elemental currents (elements), and so on. celestia really worked hard at the worldbuilding stage

so going back to this question:

Why is it so important that the Tsaritsa needs all seven, but so insignificant that the only person who didn't willingly give it away was Venti?

it's insignificant on an individual level because an archon can still do their duty to a nation without a gnosis. they have authority over their element and they can protect their nation without a gnosis. you are correct in that ei was still the archon even in the years when yae had the electro gnosis.

however, the gnosis is the only item we know thus far that can directly resonate with celestia. it is also stated to be created for the sole purpose of solving this problem: that the primordial one "could no longer use their absolute authority to suppress the original order of this world."

although exactly how this works remains unclear, but I think the tsaritsa is at least more aware of it than the player. if you have all the gnoses, you have all the keys to the new world order. remember too that the abyss order is also working on their own solution to this problem which is the very vague and mysterious "loom of fate" -- so that's another clue to how it's very likely that "fate" and teyvat's world order is significantly tied to the gnoses.

as for venti... honestly he's such a wild card in this whole thing. here's hoping we actually get his second story quest soon. yoimiya already beat him to it lmao.

So now more than ever, I have to ask: what is a Gnosis? What does it actually do? How is it different from the 'Throne' that Focalors destroyed? Did destroying the Throne make it a useless hunk of matter, or does it still retain elemental abilities? Why is it so important that the Tsaritsa needs all seven, but so insignificant that the only person who didn't willingly give it away was Venti? Like legitimately, the Traveler seems to care more about protecting the Gnoses than the people who actually had the Gnoses.

Yeah, we know it's crafted from the remains of the Third Descender's body now, and that Descenders seem to resonate with all elements equally (or at least half of them did), but why did Celestia create the Gnoses, for what purpose?

We know a Gnosis can be used to power machinery or programs, from how the Dendro Gnosis was used to power the Akasha Terminal and later the Shouki no Kami. We know that Gnoses can be used to manipulate elemental energy, from how Nahida was able to use both the Dendro and Electo Gnoses in tandem. We know that Gnoses can convey a strong sense of emotion, from how seeing Scaramouche crying in his sleep convinced Ei he was too fragile to carry the Gnosis.

Early on, it was theorized that having a Gnosis gave someone a massive boost in elemental power, or made them an Archon rather than a God...but Ei gave her Gnosis to Yae years and years ago, because she apparently saw no use in keeping it herself. So, maybe so long as she had the Divine Throne, Ei was an Archon and it didn't matter if she had the Gnosis. And since she placed a whole thunderstorm around her kingdom for a full year, clearly not having it didn't handicap her powers that much. Maybe she's a little weaker, but from a human perspective the loss in strength is borderline meaningless.

So like?? What?? Is the significance of the Gnosis...????? Is it just like a participation trophy??? Does the Tsaritsa just REALLY need some replacement chess pieces after Tartaglia ate all of one color????? 'I participated in the Archon War and all I got is this lousy chess piece'.

#genshin impact #genshin lore #long post #omg i didn't intend for this to go on for so long. i'm sorry #i thought this was going to be a quick answer #liveblogging genshin

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kanotototori · 3 years ago

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On Father’s “I’d even sleep among monks” line

Quick TW: this post contains sensitive content so please proceed with caution.

So, while reading the raws for this chapter, I found this line of Father’s quite particular.

坊主と寝た事もあります。

What piqued my - and some others’ - attention was the と寝た, which translates roughly with “sleeping with a monk”, rather than just sleeping among monks. There is a subtle suggestiveness surrounding this line - it’s very vague probably for this reason.

This verb, “to sleep”, of course means to literally sleep but it can also mean to sleep as in to have int/ercourse with someone. What makes this line even more suggestive is Izanami’s reaction - the あらあら, an expression of surprise similar to saying something like “oh my!” - and Father’s preceding and proceeding lines: “I even stole and killed”, then the line about sleeping with a monk(s), then “Whatever it took to survive.”

However, my Japanese ability is still pre-fluency (far from fluency, actually LOL) so while this line sounded odd, I wasn’t sure. However, a very kind Japanese-speaking user who wishes to remain anonymous reached out to me with some context:

I went to read the raws and I think unfortunately he does mean sleeping in the other way... the と in front of 寝た is used in instances for se/xual relations with other people. If he was sleeping amongst other monks would use 眠った (or 他の僧侶間で眠った). There were a lot of abuse going on around the era, and him being a young monk seemed dangerous.

yeah, they used singular noun for monk, so it was more of a "There was a time where I even slept with a monk"

and yeah, i don't want to say 100% that this is definitely true, but I do think the implication is there, and from experience from speaking with others it's more commonly used that way

Oh and just to add on, if he were to use Neta (寝た) in a literal way, the end of the sentence would be "て寝た" too. So it really is the "と寝た" that's important

To repeat what I said on Twitter and elsewhere, this feels very significant, as in scraping the literal bottom of the barrel to survive.

Killing and stealing feels very much par on the course for what we know about Father but the implication of being so desperate as to sleep with a monk feels... the total opposite. Because that is a yawning power imbalance there. And Father has always been on the upper hand when it comes to power dynamics with pretty much any other personal relationship so this feels doubly staggering.

So yeah, some very important context, I feel like.

#noragami #fujisaki kouto

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shinescape · 4 years ago

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Hawk Eyes

Bodyguard Seonghwa x Reader

Requested!

note: i might have went overboard with this one (jk). Thank you for the request anon and enjoy the read!

At this point, you thought that the stares and murmurs would die down but apparently not so. The other students really made it obvious that they were whispering about you or more like the person following behind you.

It was ridiculous but your father being the protective person he was assigned you a personal bodyguard. You honestly didn’t want it but the Park Family has a history of working with your family and Seonghwa was no exception.

He took his job quite seriously since he was trained at a very young age. Both of you went to the same school and even then he would make sure that no one bullied or pulled pranks on you.

One time you walked into the classroom and a bucket of flour poured onto you had him furious. He was still in training back then but somehow he already ingrained in his head that he needed to protect you at all cost.

You were currently walking in the busy hallways to your morning class. The crowd always made you feel anxious and uncomfortable but knowing that Seonghwa was right behind put you at ease.

A group of boys were goofing around as they approached you and one of them accidently pushed you to the lockers with his body.

Instead of hitting the lockers, the side of your head was cushioned by a palm. Thanks to Seonghwa’s fast reflexes and close proximity, your head was saved but the group of boys wasn’t.

Seonghwa stood in front of the group and glared at them, he knew they were trying to act like nothing happened when the guy who pushed you knew exactly what he did was on purpose. He was taller and looked way too intimidating for them to leave without at least a bruise.

But you stepped in and said, “He’s in a bad mood. It’s best that you leave or he’ll slam your head next.” You smiled at them and that was enough to make them turn back from where they came from and ran away.

“You should have made them apologise.”

“Nah, it’s not like I’m going to see them again anyway.”

You still find it bothersome how your father made Seonghwa follow you to college every single day, like a shadow. Before, he would wear those black formal suits and would sit in every class you had which was seriously uncomfortable.

People were wondering if your family was dealing with some kind of underground business and thus making you friendless up till now.

After having to negotiate with your father almost ten times, he agreed that Seonghwa was to only wait outside of every class and wear normal clothes like any young adult his age.

Your assigned bodyguard was surprised when he knew about the new arrangement and you can’t believe he reacted as if you’ve abandoned him when it’s not. It took him some time to get used to it and would accidentally follow you inside the lecture hall like he was now.

You turned on your heels and lightly pushed him out of the door. “Hwa, please go and eat breakfast or waste time at the mall while I finish. It’s four hours of class.” You said tiredly, this was not the first time and he would answer the same thing again and again.

“I’ll wait out here. Text me if you need anything.” He gave you a professional smile that you wished he would not since it felt so weird when you know each other for so long. But being in this line of job, he had to do it and he insisted on it.

You grumbled knowing that he’ll stand right outside and do nothing but glare at anyone that passed by. He wasn’t paranoid, more like protective after how many incidents you got involved back in school.

Four hours passed by and everyone including you were sluggish as hell. Your back aching, arms sore and tired from all the note taking you did.

The moment you stepped outside, Seonghwa was there looking exactly how he did earlier. A smile on his face as he stepped near you. “Ready to go home?” He asked, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on.

“Don’t you get tired waiting out here?”

He shook his head and before he could reply, you answered for him. “You were trained for this, I get it. Let’s go grab lunch, I’m hungry.” Seonghwa nodded and followed behind you like he always does.

“Seonghwa, you can walk beside me, there’s no one besides us.” You slightly turned around and grabbed his wrist and forced him to walk beside you.

He nibbled on his lower lip as he tried to remain his composure, eyes once in a while went down to his wrist that had your fingers wrapped around it. This is fine. I’m not crossing any lines, he reminded in his head.

Seonghwa was busy checking his schedule, your schedule to be exact when he heard the heavy doors across from him being pushed open. Your classmates swarmed out and he scanned everyone in search of your figure. His brows furrowed when he didn’t see you coming out.

He made his way through the crowd and went inside the hall, where you were seen talking with someone at the front row seats. He let out an exasperated sigh and made his way towards you. His sharp eyes watched how you and this person he doesn’t know talking so casually, unaware that everyone had left the room.

Seonghwa made sure his presence was known as he stood close to your side, the guy you were with immediately noticed him. He tapped your arm and motioned for you to look behind. There stood your bodyguard with a straight face on, glaring right at the stranger.

“Oh you’re here. I have a project to discuss with him so we'll probably head to the library then have dinner if we get to finish things early. You can go back first.” You know so well he’s not going to leave you with this person until late at night. But it was worth the try.

Seonghwa on the other hand felt irritated the moment you mentioned the guy’s name and how you had a plan up till dinner. It was unscheduled and he didn’t like one bit about it.

“I’ll inform your father what you told me. Also, I’m staying with you until you finish.” He said and for the first time ever, he left you first to wait outside. That caught you off guard but you tried not to think about it too much.

Your bodyguard who was seated a table away watched every single action of yours and your project partner. He noticed how you would cover your mouth when you laugh at a joke the male made or how you keep on adjusting your outfit when talking.

You almost never behaved that way around him and suddenly showing this side to someone that’s not him, irked him. He then realised how he hated what he was seeing and felt something he never felt before.

He felt possessive of you. After spending time together for so long and being the only friend and shoulder to lean on, he had developed a new feeling towards you. It was probably not new at all, just hidden deep down in his heart finally bursting out due to this new stranger.

His fingers curled into fists when your partner casually patted your head after you managed to complete a question. He’s being way too touchy and why do I feel like interrupting them and causing a ruckus? Seonghwa quietly shook the thought away and continued on watching the both of you.

The ride back home was awfully quieter than usual and it made you uneasy. You stole glances at Seonghwa who drove in silence and never uttered a single word at you.

When the both of you arrived back home, he usually bothered himself to open the front doors for you but instead shut the door right in your face.

Something was totally not right and you hate to admit but an upset Seonghwa was a hard one to deal with. “He’s probably tired. We have been out since morning.” You tried to assure yourself and went inside and spotted him on the second floor.

You ran up the stairs, catching up with his retreating figure that did not turn once at all to look at you. He clearly heard the door opening and you running up the stairs but he ignored it.

“Is everything okay, Hwa?” You manage to grab his wrist and try to peer at his face when he jerks his hand away harshly from you.

“No, I’m upset. Go to your room, it’s late.” He curtly said and left you in the hallway alone.

Inside the room, Seonghwa threw himself on the bed and covered his face with the back of his hand. He wanted to beat himself so bad for being so harsh to you. I should have said everything was fine like always, not making things worse like this. He grumbled to himself as more thoughts flooded his head.

He never felt this troubled before but when he finally came to sense that he wanted you all to himself, everything jumbled up. Before, it felt like nothing more than protecting his employer’s child but not anymore.

After a while, you were done with your night routine and was already in bed but your mind was still awake. Thinking of Seonghwa and what he said earlier. “No, I’m upset.”

You kicked the covers away and made a bee-line to your bodyguard’s room as quiet as possible. Making sure no one was near the staircase, you ran towards the other side of the hallway towards his bedroom.

You knocked a couple of times and even twisted the knob but it was locked. Praying hard that you won’t wake anyone up, you knocked even harder and finally heard a sound coming from inside.

Seonghwa unlocked the door and thought it was one of the maids and got annoyed. “What is it?” He voiced with a frown until he saw you standing in front of him, staring and mouth slightly agape.

The both of you then heard voices coming from the corner and without thinking he pulled you inside and trapped you behind the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to-” You words were cut off when another set of knocks came and he knew who it was.

“Young man, do you have anything to wash?”

“No, I don’t. Goodnight.” Seonghwa was about to shut the door when the lady stopped with her hand. “You sure, I changed the sheets two weeks ago. Also why are you not letting me in?” She pushed the door harder and it made you yelp and hit him from the impact.

“What was that?” She asked. “It’s just my stomach. I’m not feeling well.” His other hand wrapped around the back of your head making sure you don’t move again. The action made you still as you took in the fact that he was really close to you.

Seonghwa finally closed the door and let out a sigh. He then tipped your chin up to make you look him in the eyes. “Why are you not wearing a shirt?” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth.

“Uh, it’s my room?” He answered back.

“But, you’re living in my house.” You raised a brow at him.

“Should I make it my house too then?” He taunted back.

“What?!”

You couldn’t help but shout in surprise at the words he just said. You thought he was joking but when he stepped back and went to sit at the edge of his bed, messing up his hair. You knew this was more than that.

“I like you...no I love you. I don’t even know myself.” He stopped for a moment. “But what I know is that I hate seeing you getting shy with that project partner of yours.” He expressed which sound more like he was murmuring to himself rather than to you.

You furrowed your brows and can’t help but like the fact that he was bothered by something like that. Seeing him all frustrated with nothing but a pair of sweatpants was sure a sight.

But shortly after, it made you question yourself as well. You walked closer and stood directly in front of him and he looked up at the mention of his name.

Your palms found their way to his bare shoulders, resting there as you closed your eyes and went down to kiss him. Seonghwa was caught off guard by your sudden move and took your face in his hand, ripping it away from him.

“We shouldn’t do this.” He sounded genuinely worried.

“I just wanted to confirm my feelings. I’m sorry for suddenly kissing you like that.” You were about to move away when he pulled you back to your initial spot. He made you sit on his lap, legs wrapped around him.

You were confused by his sudden actions when just a minute ago he had pushed you away, reminding you that it wasn’t right to do what you both did.

“Did you feel anything after stealing a kiss from me?” His tone low as his alluring eyes met yours. You gulped at the sudden change in demeanor.

Not knowing what to say or react, you let him have his way with you. His fingers tapped its way on your neck before holding your jaw in place. He liked how it fits nicely in his hands as he pulled your face closer to his.

“You should answer when I ask.”

You didn’t know what took over you as you slowly thread your fingers in his hair and crushed your lips with his. He let out a moan and deepened the kiss, hands now gripping the side of your frame. You were starting to get out of breath, never would have imagined kissing him like this would be so addicting.

You peck his lips once more before pulling away, eyes half lidded as you look at him. His face flushed and the way he was breathing through his lips wasn’t helping at all.

“That answers everything, don’t you think?” You breathed out, hands resting on his broad shoulders again.

Seonghwa then unwrapped your legs around him, pushing you down on the bed before doing the same. He gazed at your features as a finger swiped the bottom of your lips.

“You better tell that guy to not get too touchy or I can’t guarantee his life.”

His pupils were round and innocent now despite looking like it could suck you in whole earlier. You scoffed at his words and played with his fringe that was covering his eyes. “Forget about him. What are we going to do next?” you asked, eyes roaming his beautiful face.

Seonghwa smirked and that's when you know he interpreted your words differently. “I’m going to do whatever I want and make sure you can’t attend class tomorrow.” You sighed at him and lightly punched his chest.

“I meant about my father, your job as my bodyguard. I don’t think he’s going to take this nicely.” You informed him, already knowing the fate of your relationship after this.

“I’ll take care of that. What you need to worry about is what’s going to happen right now.” Seonghwa's eyes were clearly filled with lust as his hand went under your shirt and watched how you tried to hold back from his cold touch.

You were starting to feel ways you could never imagine and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. It will be a long night and surely there’s no turning back on this.

A sneaking attempt, an unexpected confession and a stolen kiss had led you to this.

Nothing else matters as for now, just you and your life time bodyguard, Park Seonghwa.

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parachutingkitten · 4 years ago

Text

The Samurai Swap

Chapter 1: Nya's Problem - In which Nya and Pixal make a very large mistake.

TW: gore

“I am Samurai X.”

The smile beamed from her newly revealed face, now finally able to see her friends without the filter of a mask. Several arms instinctively surrounded her, the first of which being Jay’s, the second of which was Zane’s and a few more that she wasn’t able to identify in all the commotion.

“I knew it was you!” Jay broke away, now excitedly jumping. “I didn’t say it, but I had a hunch!”

“Yeah right,” Cole rolled his eyes, offering her a high five, which she gladly took.

“You look brilliant!” Her father smiled, taking her hand. “Brand new body and everything! It looks fantastic!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Zane asked, his arms still wrapped around her.

“I didn’t want you to worry about me.” She nervously shrugged.

“Worry about you? You totally saved our butts on more than one occasion this week.” Lloyd broke in. “As far as I’m concerned, you can be the new Master.”

“Temporary Master Pixal, in training!” Kai added, hitting her in the arm.

“Yeah, yeah, this is great and all,” Nya sighed, speaking from behind the crowd. “But what about Wu? We lost him in the time stream. We have no idea where he could be.”

The whole group’s tone shifted, the energy being sucked away in less than a second.

“If I know my uncle, he’ll be alright,” Lloyd assured her. “Wherever he is, whenever he is, he’ll find his way.”

Silence stayed with the team a moment before Cole finally stepped forward.

“Lloyd’s right! We lost a friend today, but we also gained one back. Sensei would want us to do what he taught us and keep moving forward.”

“Hear, hear!” Jay cheered him on.

“And I think we start with this.” Lloyd picked up the reversal blade, its orange glow illuminating the faces all around. “We need to get rid of it. It’s far too powerful, and we don’t know the extent of its abilities. I say we put it back in the boiling sea. You think you two can handle that?” He glanced up at Kai and Nya as they exchanged a look.

“We did it once, didn’t we?” Kai chuckled.

“Good.” Lloyd agreed. “Then we leave first thing in the morning, and we take shifts guarding it tonight. I don’t want to take any chances, not after everything that’s happened.”

“But aside from that…?” Jay broke in.

Lloyd sighed. “But aside from that, everyone deserves to celebrate. You’ve earned it.”

Cheers went up throughout the group, Zane squeezing Pixal just a bit tighter, before finally letting go.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered.

“Zane,” Pixal smiled. “I’ve only been out of your systems for a couple of days.”

Zane took both her hands, bringing them to his chest. “I missed you.”

Her smile softened, her hands gripping his. “...so did I.”

“Pixal!” Kai’s voice came barreling into their vicinity. “I should have known it was you! You’re just as annoyingly perfect in costume as you are out of it!”

Pixal chuckled, pulling out of Zane’s grasp.

“And hey,” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t think of anyone better to replace my sis.”

“You don’t remember what it’s like having both of us on the same com link, do you?” Pixal smirked.

“I am choosing to ignore that right now and assume that the stupidity that used to happen just… won’t happen now.” Kai smiled blissfully.

“You’re right, it’s been what, 5 years since the jet fuel incident? I’m sure we’ve both matured immensely since then.” Pixal winked.

“I make no promises.”

“Hey guys!” Jay’s voice called out to them. “Let’s get back to the bounty! Zane’s making cake to celebrate!”

“I am?” Zane called back.

“You are now!” Cole waved them over as the group headed for the ship. “Come on!”

“I guess I’m making cake now.” Zane sighed, resigned to his fate as they began moving.

“Oh! Can you do your cream cheese frosting?” Kai asked.

“I suppose,” Zane shrugged. “Pixal, you have any requests?”

“I like your cream cheese frosting.” She smiled.

“Cream cheese it is then.”

Pixal’s smile faded, one of her hands still linked with Zane’s as the group quietly continued forward. Everything should be right with the world now that her identity was off her chest. This weight that she’d been holding onto should be gone now - but something felt off. She couldn’t pinpoint what, but there was still some unsatisfied strain of tension left within her. Her eyes instinctively wandered, looking for what it was that was out of place before it struck her.

“Kai, you really think Nya’s okay with… me?” she asked.

He looked at her puzzled. “Yeah, why wouldn’t she be?”

“I don’t know,” Pixal sighed. “I’m taking over one of her creations, it’s strange that she didn’t really address it when I revealed myself.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Kai shrugged it off. “You’ve definitely proven you can take care of Samurai X, and I’m sure she’s excited to have another girl on the team.”

“You’re right, I’m probably just in my head about it,” Pixal shook her head, this nagging feeling persisting with her. Nya hadn’t really acknowledged her while she was code, seemed to antagonize the new samurai X she had created, and hadn’t even attempted to pass on good will to her after she had revealed herself. Her brother approached her before she did.

Something had to be bothering her.

---

“Who is she again?” Ray asked.

“Part of Zane's brain that decided she wanted to be a real girl.” Nya grumbled, taking a swig of milk.

“Zane's old girlfriend who got stuck as code inside his head,” Jay clarified. “So, it was like two brains in one body. Which, I don't know if that's like the ultimate relationship status, or a terrifying hellscape I never want to experience, but either way, it worked for them for like… what, 5 years now?”

“Yeah… I'm still not sure I get it,” Ray shrugged.

“Well, she seems nice!” Maya smiled. “Have you talked to her much? Maybe you could give her a crash course in Samurai X or something.”

“No mom, I’m not really in the habit of training people who try and replace me.” Nya sighed, lifting her glass to take with her as she moved away from her parents and the rest of the celebration taking place inside.

Everything about this felt wrong. This new Samurai X had certainly surprised her when they first appeared but knowing who it was somehow made it worse. Seeing her creation be appropriated by someone else, put it on like a cheap costume as the whole team celebrated, it didn’t sit well with her.

“What’s your problem today?” Jay’s voice came from behind her. “You saved all of space time, is that not enough for you?”

Nya sighed, leaning back on the wall. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a problem. I’m completely problem-less.”

Jay paused a moment, joining her on the wall, and following her line of sight. “You know, Pix is a really great person.”

“It’s just not right.” She grumbled. “I don’t even know her!”

“Well, maybe that’s your fault.” He gently suggested. “She’s been living with us for years now.”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t been living with her.” Nya sat up. “It’s like she’s been spying on us, quietly observing us, collecting information before popping up again. Isn’t that off putting to you? You’re gonna sit here and tell me that’s not the least bit suspicious?”

“Yeah, it is.” Jay shrugged. “And it would probably make a great plot for a horror movie or something, but this isn’t a movie, this is real life. And that’s a real person over there, who obviously looks up to you. So maybe, just maybe, you should at least go over and talk to her.”

Nya’s gaze turned again to Pixal, slowly transforming into a glare as she thought, all her emotions still furiously stirring inside her.

“No one’s guarding the blade.” She turned to Jay again, holding out her drink. “I’m gonna go watch it for a bit.”

Jay looked at the milk, disappointed. “Nya, honey-”

“Jay, darling.” She pressed, her words now forceful as she gestured the cup towards him again.

Jay sighed, taking it. “Yeah okay.”

And with that, she was gone. Down the hall, and towards the time blade, away from her problem still chatting away in the living room. Jay meandered back to the kitchen, setting down the glass in a pensive defeat.

“You get her out of her funk yet?” Maya asked.

“No,” Jay shook his head, ideas still churning in his mind. “...Not yet anyway.”

---

Pixal could tell that her presence wasn’t welcome the moment she stepped through the door. It wasn’t a great feeling, but it wasn’t a new one either.

“Everything okay in here?” She asked, scanning the room, her eyes lingering on the glow of the reversal blade sitting in its center.

Nya stared at her for a moment, puzzled. “…Yeah.” Her answer was hesitant and questioning. “Who sent you in here?”

“Jay” Pixal answered, still hugging the wall.

“Of course he did.” Nya sighed. “Look, I’m fine in here, you can go back to your party or whatever. I’m sure you’ve already missed like five people telling you how great you are.” Nya rolled her eyes, shifting as they lingered on the blade, waiting for her to leave.

Despite Nya’s insistence, Pixal remained in the room, her eyes narrowing. She was sick of this. Sick of the dismissive tone, and the constant avoidance. She was a real person, with real feelings, and certainly had more reverence for the Samurai X title than Nya ever had. She deserved some respect, and she wasn’t about to let this fickle, arrogant, lowlife deny it from her.

“Did I do something to you?”

“What?” Nya’s attention snapped back to her.

“It’s just, you’ve been really cold to me, and I can’t think of a single good reason why.” She took a few steps further into the room, Nya standing to match her.

“Well, for starters, you stole my stuff, I thought that much would be obvious.”

“It’s not exactly like you were using it.” Pixal crossed her arms.

“It’s my tech!” Nya tensed up, her voice raising quickly. “I made it! I built the cave! It’s my stuff!”

“Yeah, and it was covered in dust, broken down, and abandoned!” Pixal waved her off. “You clearly didn’t care about it anymore.”

Nya pressed her tongue against her teeth for a moment, attempting to stifle her anger. “I made Samurai X with my own two hands-”

“And you forgot about it the moment you became a ninja.” Pixal cut her off. “Are you really going to stand here and criticize me for saving lives?”

“No, but you’re certainly not the best person to be doing it.” Her tone was increasingly accusatory. “I mean, you’ve essentially been a ghost person for years, and now you suddenly want to be put in charge of, not only your own body, but my legacy, and countless innocents? I don’t think so. That’s something you have to earn!”

“Oh, like you earned your powers?” Pixal mocked her.

“Like I earned my place on the team,” Nya corrected her. “Which you clearly haven’t.”

Pixal laughed in defiance. “Five years of dealing with your crap, saving your lives countless times, without as much as a voice isn’t enough for you?!”

“I don’t trust you.” Nya shrugged. “It’s as simple as that. And you think I’m supposed to just hand over my life’s work to you?”

“No, you’re supposed to pass it on,” Pixal pressed. “But you were too lazy to even do that.”

“I don’t know you!” Nya screamed. “I don’t know anything about you!”

“Yeah, well, I do,” Pixal snapped. “And maybe I should have thought twice before attaching my legacy to yours.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“You know what, you don’t really seem in the right frame of mind to be watching the time blade.” Pixal shook her head.

“Well, I think we’ve established that you’re not exactly qualified to watch it either,” Nya sneered.

Both of their eyes darted to the blade and back, their status quo hanging in the air for a moment. And in an instant, both of them were scrambling towards it. Nya’s hands reached the blade first, with Pixal getting a hold quickly after, the two of them now stuck in a tug of war over the weapon.

“Let go!” Nya screamed, her grip quickly slipping from the edge of the handle she had a hold of towards the blade.

“You first!” Pixal demanded, readjusting her own grip.

“You stupid second rate knock off, just give it to me!”

“Not a chance, you-” Pixal stopped short, the glow from the from the blade growing increasingly brighter.

“What the hell?” Nya’s grip softened for a moment, both of them concerned about the light.

Pixal seized the opportunity, yanking the blade forward, Nya’s hands slipping down, and Pixal’s hands moving up, both towards the glowing blade of the weapon.

“WAIT-!”

But before either of them could stop their momentum, the room was consumed in the orange light, a pulse of energy going through them both. Neither could tell exactly what happened in the moment, but one thing was clear to the both of them:

Something had gone very, very wrong.

And it was definitely their fault.

---

It was cold.

An unearthly, deathly, sort of supernatural cold. It wasn’t just surrounding her, but actively extracting heat from her core. She had never felt anything like it before.

It was dark.

She waited for her eyes to adjust, but they never did. It was pitch black in all directions, no trace of light anywhere.

Nya sat up, a pounding echoing in her head as she tapped around, trying to discern her surroundings. She instinctively recoiled as her hand hit something… wet. It wasn’t water, it was thicker. Smoother between her fingers. Stickier to the touch.

What was this?

Where was she?

She listened for anything that might help her determine her situation. It wasn’t completely silent. There was a definite mechanical hum in the space, and… was it… getting louder?

Suddenly, A bright flash of light illuminated the space, almost like lightning, but brighter and more artificial. And for a brief moment she could see her surroundings, still dark, cold, and mechanical, but there was only one thing she really processed.

Her corpse.

Her own limp, disjointed, misshapen corpse hanging on the wall in front of her. The throat was slit, a stream of blood running down her chest, meeting with the sword sent through her center, affixing her to the wall behind. All of it formed a river of blood, trickling down the walls, and trailing onto the floor.

The flash of light came again as she stared at her hand, untouched by the blood she had so clearly felt between her fingers.

What the hell happened?

Where the hell was she?

And if she was here…

Where was Pixal?

#ninjago #samurai swap au #pixal borg #nya smith #pixal ninjago #nya ninjago #samurai x #writing #tw: gore

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piracytheorist · 6 years ago

Photo

He wakes up slowly, the sound of birds chirping the first sensation he feels.

He moves his arm on the mattress with eyes still closed, not feeling Milah next to him. The sheets are still warm, though.

He opens his eyes, starting to focus on the soft morning light. She’s standing right in front of the balcony door, hands resting relaxed on her arms.

“Enjoying the view?” he says.

She smiles. “Good morning to you too.”

“Because I know of another view you’d enjoy more,” he says, starting to lift the sheet covering his naked body.

“Of course you do,” she says without looking at him, still smiling.

He lifts the sheet completely, not bothering to cover any parts as he struts towards her. He wraps his arms around her from behind, and she caresses them with her lean fingers. He leans in, kisses her neck and stays there, filling his lungs with her divine scent.

She leans her head on his. “Do we have to leave today? Everything feels so peaceful here.”

“Come on,” he murmurs against her neck. “You’ll start missing adventure in a couple of hours already.”

“Don’t tell me what I want, young man.”

He sighs. He can’t help loving her even when she uses their age difference against him.

She turns then to look at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and turning them both so that their sides are towards the window, sunlight reaching half of their faces.

They look at each other, and for a few moments he’s transfixed by her eyes, seemingly of different colours as the sun illuminates one but not the other.

“Sometimes I just miss the routine, the stability of a home on land,” she admits.

“Was that ever you? Having a stable home, void of adventure and new experiences?”

She looks down for a moment, then back into his eyes before she leans in and kisses him. “I guess not. But with you... I wouldn’t mind not having those.”

He raises an eyebrow, an expression that he knows she’ll see through.

“People are what make something special,” she says. “Nothing I’ve lived those past few years would’ve been the same without you.”

He smiles, feeling his cheeks go red. “Why, that’s quite an honour.”

“I’m serious, Killian. I used to wonder whether it was only your adventurous spirit that I loved. But then I started thinking, what if we ever settled down in a peaceful place like this one?” She tilts her head, an earnest smile spreading on her face. “And it’s quite a nice thought.”

He shakes his head, eyebrow going up again. “I’m not settling down, milady.”

She snorts, smile growing cheeky. “You sure you didn’t inherit any of Liam’s stubbornness?”

“You love adventure, I love adventure. You love me, I love you. What’s there to be stubborn about?”

He would be lying though, if he said that her words didn’t touch him. He pulls her in, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as he buries his nose in her hair.

#I did the thing!#hoozah #Millian #Millian ff #I managed to start with present tense then change to past then to present again #idek XD #seriously though this shot is so inspiring #also I totally stole a line from What Still Remains #I admit that much #piracytheorist writes

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laffodil-daffodil · 3 years ago

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The day was beatifull. The birds were singing happily, the peacefull sound of the water running from rivers near by. Everything seemed quiet, calm. Nothing could ruin the moment of peace the forest was having.

The peace, however, did not reach everything.

The sound of a door slamming closed interrupted the calm, the sudden and loud noise resonating trough the forest, cutting the quietness like a knife would do to butter.

Regulus ran out of the cabin door in a hurry, muttering scoldings to himself under his breath. Just this morning (when he was going to make himself some breakfast) he realized that he had no food left (it was obvious, he went hunting over a month ago, the fact that he was too lazy and too depressed were the things that kept him all day on his bed)

He decided to go to the nearest town, he had some money on him from when he helped an old couple out with their strawberry cultives (the couple then gave him a wood box full of strawberrys', which he ate almost inmediatly after he got home).

Regulus never went to towns or villages or cities anymore, faking your own dead didn't allowed you to go in public (being from The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black didn't help eithet). Besides, all that he needed he could find it in the woods.

Like in the books Sirius read to him when he was a kid, like a bedtime story, and he would wait patiently until Sirius tip-toed to his room as quietly as possible so he wouldn't wake up Walburga and then give her a reason to beat them up and-

He stopped himself from remembering more. He always stopped himself from remembering things from his past, from when the time things weren't perfect but they weren't hell either.

He hasn't heard of his parents for years now, and even more less from Sirius (being supposedly dead kept you from keeping track of things outside from your bubble). He just hoped Sirius was finally happy, maybe even be together with that best friend of his (Remus, was it? He couldn't remember quite well his name), he always saw how his brother looked at the other guy with eyes full of adoration, like if Remus had brought him all of the stars in the nightsky.

He hoped his parents were dead, too. They deserved it, after all the shit they made Sirius and him go trough, all of those nights awake hearing his brothers' screams, or the banging of the metal door they locked Sirius in.

And when Sirius left, when his brother was finally physically free from them (because no, Sirius would never be completly free from them, neither of them both would ever be) ,it all just got worse from there. For Regulus, that is. His skin got paler and his eyes got duller, but he felt relief. His brother (the only one he had, the one he held close to his heart, even after being ignored) was finally out of the house they called home.

Regulus noticed (since the day Sirius ran away from "home") that his skin got healthier and his eyes got brighter, unlike him.

Regulus felt relief that his brother was finally able to be freely happy, to be able to love whoever the fuck he wanted to love, to wear whatever he wanted to wear. He truly was.

But what about me, Regulus thought, as he entered the little magical village. I want my happy ending, too. He knew he shouldn't ask for more, he should be more gratefull that he finally, after so much fighting, was finally free from his parents' grasp.

So why wasn't he?

He said an apology under his breath to the old witch that bumped into him, and while she was yelling profanities at him while picking up her groceries, he continued to walk down the crowded street.

Regulus saw, from the corner of his eyes, an old looking bookstore. He walked towards it and pushed the glass door open, might as well buy some more books, no?

The little bell anounnced his entrance to the people inside the shopp, not that anyone cared about it.

Regulus made a bee-line towards the mitology section and picked up two books. One had a deep red cover, with bold golden letters as a tittle. The other had a black cover in its totallity, (also) with bold golden letters.

He made his way towards the front desk to pay for the books, when a wood table that had the newspaper got his attention.

He didn't exactly knew why did it catch his attention, he just knew that he just had to check it out (something in the deepest part of his heart told him to do so).

So he followed his instinct.

"MURDERER SIRIUS BLACK, ARRESTED FOUR YEARS AGO AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-TWO, WAS CAUGHT YESTERDAYS' NIGHT TRYING TO ESCAPE AZKABAN"

He what

Regulus lowered the paper a little and stared at it with incredulity. Sirius was arrested?

Sirius was arrested four years ago?

Regulus did the counts on his head. Four years ago he faked his death to be free, when he tought Sirius wasn't in fucking prison? What in the actual fuck?

He lifted the paper a little with shacky and malhourised hands, those hands that were once soft and didn't know hard work, now, those hands were covered in scars, all of them because of years in the woods, from cutting trees and building his small cabin and fighting wild animals to survive.

He did all of that to survive, all of this- he did it for himself.

He was enjoying freedom while his brother (the brother who neglected you after being choosen in a rival house, the brother who, in a far away past, held your hands on his own and looked at you in the eyes and told you everything was going to be alright) was in prison for murderer, something Regulus believed was false.

Sirius would never kill anyone, Regulus was sure of that.

But that didn't mattered, no. It didn't make any difference to Regulus. His brother ignoring him didn't changed anything, the younger still loved him with all his heart, with all that he had.

His silver eyes looked at the newspaper again, a burning fire making its way into his heart.

"Sirius Black is responsable of the death of a wizard, Petter Pettigrew and thirtheen muggles"

Okay, now Regulus was one-hundred percent sure that his brother had been framed. Regulus knew his brother would never kill muggles, besides, wasn't Petter Pettigrew one of his closest friends?

He continued reading, he needed as much information as he could find. He reached the end of the paragraph, and one or two drops of sweat appeared in his temple.

"-Black is now behind the bars again, the security involving him has increased and is now stronger than ever."

Okay, Regulus wasn't freaking out at all, why would he? The fact that his brother is in fucking Azkaban doesn't inmediatly means he will freak out, nu huh.

Because he is a calm, cool-headed individual, yes he is.

He was not freaking out, and anyone who said otherwise is a liar.

Steps resonated in the small wood cabin owned by the younger heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.

Regulus swears he can hear his own hearbeats, beating in his ears and, somehow, telling him to do something, anything.

He doesn't quite know what to do, what to expect of this. This was crazy, right?

He knows it is, so why was he having second thoughts?

Do it, Reg. Just go for it, what could go wrong? A small voice says inside his head. It sounds deep and raspy, but also (for some reason) bubbly and playfull. ‘Like Sirius', he thinks.

Is it risky? Yes, definitly so. Would it be possibly worth it? He hopes so.

This is one-hundred percent a crazy, impulsive idea, but he was willing to try and give it a shot if it meant his brother would read him bedtime storys at night again.

He just wants his brother back, was that too much to ask?-

‘But it is! That lazy blood-traitor scum left you behind, for you to rot in that house, all by yourself while he had fun!’ A different voice screams at him and Regulus flinches, because it sounds so much like his mothers' voice it scares him to the bone.

"Please stop talking..." He begs to the empy room. He takes a shacky breath-in to try and get these voices of people that are not even there with him out of his head.

‘Reggie please listen to me! You have to get me out! I know you can do it, you're really smart!’ Sirius says inside his head, and Regulus can almost imagine him with puppy eyes while saying it.

‘Don't listen to that disgrace, Regulus! You are better than that, you will not hear whatever nonsense comes out of that stupid boys' mouth-’ ‘Im not stupid, you are the one in the wrong, Regulus knows-’ ‘Regulus will know best than to hear anything from you, unlike you, he knows what is best for him-’ ‘Like if you would know what is best for him-’

He feels overwhelmed, the voices are yelling at him to do things and Regulus doesn't know who to hear. He feels his heart beating faster, and he can hear his shaky breaths, and he feels the sweat in his forehead, and his hands in his ears-

"Stop!" Regulus yells, and the voices grow quiet. Hot tears stream down of his face as his knees make contact with the floor of wood.

The voices aren't talking anymore, but he still covers his ears tightly. He wants to get rid of the uncomfortable weight his chest has on it. He wants the headache that is starting to form to go away.

Suddlendly, its like he's five all over again. Just, this time, Sirius is not around to hug him.

Sirius wasn’t going to be around ever again.

Regulus tries to calm down. Breath in, breath out. He was going to be alright, he would find a way. He always does. He’s smart, Sirius always said so.

He remains kneeled on the floor for what feels like an hour, but were probably just two minutes (for him, it felt like a whole lifetime).

Regulus sighs and starts to stand up slowly, like if he went a little bit more quicker, then everything around him would dissapear in an instant.

Supporting his body on the wooden walls (he is still too dizzy to walk by himself, still too weak), Regulus makes his way towards his small bed made out of straw he borrowed (stole) and throws himself at it, exhausted of the events of today.

He has a plan, it is all clear in his mind already. And altough he is scared (of being taken to Azkaban, of dying while trying to save Sirius), a feeling he is not familiar with snuggles inside his chest. It has been there before, Regulus knows it has. (It feels like greeting an old friend who was there for you in your lowest point, but then dissapeared out of the blue. Regulus knows its name, but he can't shake its hand like old buddies would).

And then he closes his eyes and dreams about how his life has been so far. How cold it has been, how lonely it all felt (And Regulus wishes it would had passed like a blurr, (like when you zone out in a conversation and you miss a part of it) but it didn't, and Regulus hates that).

The next morning he wakes up with a headache that forces him to close his eyes tightly.

In all honestly, Regulus feels like shit, both physically and mentally.

Feelings suck, and he would stand by that until the day he became nutrients to the Earth.

He sits on the uncomfortable excuse of a bed slowly, trying not to make his headache worse than it already is. He sits there for a minute or two, before deciding to stand up and go see if there is anything he can eat.

He believes he bought food yesterday, but he couldn't really be sure about that. Everything that he did after reading that newspaper was blank, there was no memory of something else happening after that whatsoever.

His legs are better now that he rested properly. 'There is nothing a good nap can't cure!' Regulus remembers Sirius' voice telling him one day, after Walburga went particularly rough with the Cruciatus Curse on them.

Regulus remembers, that same night, Sirius cuddled up to him on his bed, and held him tight against his chest. Regulus never got in the way when Walburga was insulting Sirius, but that time he did. It did not end pretty.

They both ended up getting tortured, Regulus more than Sirius that time.

They were ten and six at that time.

Now he realized that he, in fact, did bought food yesterday. Some bread and cheese, along with a loaf of bread that didn't look in the best condition (he couldn't really afford that much after all, there was so much a few coins could buy).

As he started cutting some of the bread, he tought about his options, about what he could do and about what was out of the question.

Regulus could only think about two viable options that would (probably) (hopefully) decrease the chances of everything going wrong.

One (this one was crazy) he could try and become an animagus. An animal form would surely help him get in and out of the prison.

Now, that option would take him months of preparations, maybe even years.

(He knows most wizards and witches with animagus form had taken several years to even figure out how to become an animagus, but he is Regulus Black for Godric's sake. He isn't most wizards)

(He is better than most, after all)

The black-haired male stands there in the middle of his tiny kitchen, a knife still in his left hand. He thinks he has an idea, someone who would surely help him if he asked.

But in order to ask them, he would have to find them first.

Where exactly are you, Remus Lupin?

. . .

Remus wasn’t having a good morning (he never was having anything good). First, he woke up past 6 am and ended up arriving late at work (again), and his boss yelled at him for 5 minutes (again), and then, oh and then, he ended up getting fired (AGAIN), which, by the way, was the cherry on top to his shitty morning, and it wasn’t even 1 in the afternoon yet.

Now he would have to search for any jobs that would accept him, again (this was the second time in the month that he was fired from a job; in the first one he may or may not had punched a co-worker (in his defense, the bastard was talking shit about a female co-worker, and Remus just got really really angry).

And as he stomped angrily in the direction where his house was, he came to realize that he fucked this up really bad. Now he had no job, not even one kind of support to survive another month, and he sure as hell didn’t have any friends to go back to if things got more rough.

Ah, now he’s just sad.

He glanced at the plants and flowers growing at the sides of the road made of dirt, and he remembers.

Remus remembers the times when he used to be happy, when his only concern was passing his exams and not letting his crush on Sirius (oh Sirius, i miss you terribly) showing up and exposing him. When he would hang out with Lily at the library, and talk about how classes were starting to get more difficult as the days passed, or how they would gossip and talk badly about Severus ("-and have you seen his hair today?"), and they would talk and talk, and then talk some more.

Or when he would help James with his game plans, and they would stay up until the sun appeared again at the next day. Or when he would bake with Peter at the schools' kitchen at really late hours at night.

And he remembers, too, the times when he would look at Sirius and he would just get lost in his silver eyes. And Remus would look at him like Sirius was the most beatifull being in the would (in his eyes, he was).

He misses those times, he yearns for them. He wants them back, with all of his heart.

Life has always been rough for him, its just the way things are.

Because he deserved it.

(or so his father said)

Remus sees his little house at a distance. It looks deteriorated and in ruins, that house. The wild flowers are all around it, and there’s plants climbing on the walls and covering the windows.

He sees a cloaked figure standing on his porch, and Remus feels fear.

But he won’t show it, no, he won’t, ‘because fear is for cowards’ , his father would say, and the voice he would use left no room to question him.

“Can i help you with something?” Remus says, loud and clear.

The person in black tensed, and turned around to face Remus slowly, like if they were scared (’of what?’ Remus wondered, but he kept quiet- like he always does)

Facing each other, silver and brown met.

“Oh”

The wind roared from outside, strong and merciless as ever. It made the trees dance and the leaves from them to roam free on the sky.

The raindrops that fell from the sky were hitting on the glass of the window with force, on the roof, on the dirt. It left nothing untouched.

“How have you been, Remus?” The man in question turned his gaze from the window to the person in-front of him. The years had taken a ton from him, it seemed. Yet, the beauty he owned many years ago had not left him, no. It made him even more handsome, Remus concluded. His silver eyes (oh, his eyes were so smilar to his Sirius’-) were bright, a shine in them Remus has never seen before in the younger man.

Remus gripped the handle of his mug of tea. The sweet honey tea with lavender inside of it warmed his hands, full of calluses and old scars, it soothed him and the pains he felt in them. “You should be dead” He says, looking at the eyes of Regulus, searching (searching?) for an answer to his one-hundred-and-one questions.

“Let me explain, Remus. Please, would you listen to what i have to say?” Regulus says, and he sounds so hurt, so exhausted and done with everything. He says nothing in response, just goes back to looking out of the window, where the wind and rain still are. Where everything follows its course.

“I faked my death...that night i-, i saw an opportunity and i took it, and then i--”

“You left Sirius” Remus says, and the voice that comes out of him sounds so not like him, so aggressive and upset and loud and so much like his voice-

Still, Remus doesn’t back off. He looks up at Regulus and flinches. He looks so upset and angry, like Remus just did something so disgusting and wrong that he can’t take it.

Those silver eyes (One of the distinguished features of the oh so noble and honorary Black Family) burn in his soul like silver things burns in his skin. And it’s terrifyng and powerful in equal portions.

“He left me behind first, Remus” Regulus says, his voice filled with venom and as aggressive as Remus’ voice before. “He left me behind the moment i got into Slytherin” He adds, and Remus can hear his erratics breaths over the muffled sound of rain.

They stay silent, for a while. Not wanting to fight but not wanting to talk either.

“Why are you here, Regulus? We hardly ever talked back at Hogwarts, so i can’t imagine a reason behind your visit” Remus finally says. With the new need to do something (-anything), he stands up from the badly hand-made wood chair and takes his mug of half finished and still warm tea, walking with rapid steps towards the tiny kitchen connected to the living room. He occupies his hands with cutting the remains of the bread he baked yesterday.

“I came to ask you for a favor “ He starts “,you see-- Don’t look at me like that, Remus, hear me out first” Regulus says, and stands up too.

The black haired male takes a deep breath, as if he’s preparing himself to say something difficult to speak out loud. “Sirius is innocent, Remus, i am sure of it”

Everything goes silent from there. Remus can’t hear a thing because of the annoying ringing in his ears, and even before muffled sound of the rain is in the background now. He sees Regulus moving his mouth, and Remus is sure he is saying something (most probably something important), but he can’t hear a thing.

And Remus is so angry right now. It bubbles in his chest, from deep beneath with all of the emotions he repressed all of those years, and if he doesn’t calm down now then it’s going to explode. What could Regulus know anyways? He wasn’t even there in the first place! He was too bussy faking being dead, and hiding somewhere away from civilitation, like the stupid coward he is.

(Remus know he is a coward too, he knows it all too well. Because he knows that, (deep down) Sirius is innocent. He just hasn’t come to terms with it because he is so angry and he feels so betrayed and-- how could them leave him behind like this?) (Remus knows that he is stupid, too, because all he wants is someone to blame for the death of Lily and James and Peter-- someone to blame for little Harry slipping away from his fingers like sand)

(And Remus knows that he is a hypocrite, too)

“...--and you know, Remus, that Sirius would never do such a thing, we both know it!” Regulus says, his voice sounds more clear now, less muffled and silent. And it sounds so desperate, begging for understanding and someone to hear him out.

“Those were his best friends, and even i -that a i wasn’t even close to him-, knows that is a fact! He couldn’t had killed them like that!” He yells, and Remus feels sick.

“...get out...” The words come out of his mouth before he can register them, just above a whisper.

“What?”

“I said get out!” He shouts at Regulus, the boiling feeling of anger finally snaps inside of him, and now he just wants someone to yell at, someone to discharge all of his repressed emotions at.

And he does. Before he knows it, Regulus is out of his house and into the pouring rain, because Remus takes his wand out of his back pocket and yells a ´Crucio!’ and fires it to Regulus, who dodges and sprints out of the house.

And Remus is all alone again, inside of that small and old house, with the feeling of anger and guilt and sadness washing over him.

He feels his knees too weak to support him, and falls to the floor with a ‘thud!’. And for the first time since his loved ones left him, for the first time since his life fell apart, he allows himself to cry and yell.

And he feels like a little kid again.

. . .

Okay, Regulus admits, the plan did not work out like he thought it would.

Maybe he did broke the news too strongly, he kind of got angry at first. But it wasn’t really his fault, Remus said something he couldn’t even had known! His relationship with Sirius and how broken it was wasn’t any of his business.

But it’s fine, Regulus can do this on his own. It’ll be harder, but he’ll do it.

No matter the cost.

Two years pass by and Regulus is ready to start with the second and hardest part of his plan. Getting Sirius out of prison.

It too him a whole year and a half to even figure out how to become an animagus, and the other half of the year to learn how to switch to his animal form. But he’s finally ready, and he is so excited to mend things with Sirius and be brothers again.

Now he’s standing on the port, unleashing the rope that’s tied to a boat he’s about to steal. The boat is old, but it looks solid still. Regulus wonders what kind of adventures it has lived, the people it has carried, the tales it had heard from other peoples’ mouths.

Regulus gets in the boat before it couldbfloat away from shore, and sits.

He feels the texture of the wood under him. It's cold and damp, and he can feel the old carves in the wood forming the word he assumes reads 'fishy'.

He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head side to side. Probably a little kid wrotte that.

Maybe many years ago, a family had a trip to catch fishies in this very boat. Regulus pictures a father and his youngest son, on a sunny day, in this boat. The father tries to teach his son how to catch a fish, but the child, as most little kids usually do, gets bored with the waiting and as there's no other way of entertaiment, he carves the word on the old boat.

He wishes that instead of being in this situation, in the thick, thick fog, he would be fishing with his older brother. He wishes things turned out differently.

Regulus wishes he could live his youth with his brother, instead of trying to rescue him from a crime he definitely did not commit.

Oh, Regulus wishes were so many. But those were only wishes, thoughts that are in the past now. Realities that already lost their chances to exist a long time ago.

And with these thoughts clouding his mind like the fog cloudes his vision, Regulus grabs the oars and starts paddling.

The splinters in the oar feel like nothing against his tough and scarred hands, instead of hurting him, they keep him on the real world, away from the one where he goes when everything is too much, when he loses himself.

Regulus doesn't know how many hours went by until he could see the impotent building that was Azkaban. And as he was nearing it, the waves kept rocking his small boat, threatening him to flip.

He wonders if everything he's doing right now would be enough. He wonders, as the boat flips harshly to its side and throws him off of it into the freezing water, if Sirius knows he loves him more then life itself.

Regulus doesn't fight back the cold water, not at all. Instead, he lets it settle in his bones, in his belly, in his lungs.

If being held feels like this, then Regulus decided he liked it. No one ever held him before, maybe as a baby, but as he grew older, the only one who held him close was Sirius.

Sirius... who is Sirius, exactly?

He tries to remember, he feels the name belongs to an important person, but his mind is as numb as his arms and legs feel, if not even more.

It doesn't matter, he thinks, because im dying anyways.

Life is cruel, he decides with a heavy feeling in his chest, as his heavy body sinks him deeper and deeper on the ocean.

He'll be sleeping forever next to sand and rocks and corals of multiple colours, and the black of his hair will meld perfectly next to them.

Regulus doesn't fight, but he dies with a ball of hatred and love and yearning in his heart. He'll be dreaming for eternity of wishes and unspoken words, of hugs and arms that will never hold him ever again.

Life is cruel, and Regulus Black knows it all too well.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

IM SORRY I JUST COULDN'T GIVE THE BLACK BROTHERS AND REMUS THEIR HAPPY ENDING SKSNEKEMS what can i say, im a sucker for an angsty ending.

anyways, this was inspired by this blog (https://eronlupett.tumblr.com/post/642858372635475968/i-need-a-writer) by ". and before you mentuon it, yes, i was going to writte a happy ending, i just couldn't, like, cmon on, it was right there, i couldn't resist.

i had lots of fun writting this, but it still took me almost 5 months to finish it lolz. guess i just didn't had the motivation.

let me know what you think of my witting style, or if you have any opinions, just dont b disrespectful!

byebye^^

#Remus Lupin #Sirius orion black #regulus black #lily james #lol this sucks #angst headcanon #harry potter angst #bad ending #im honeslty not sorry #im an asshole hehe #no fluff

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honey-makki · 4 years ago

Text

grandma’s blessing

best friend!hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death (family member), oral (fem receiving), fire, probably unsanitary cooking conditions if i’m being honest (it’s soft i swear)

summary: the holidays are your favorite time of year. your best friend hanamaki tries to keep holiday cheer alive despite the loss of a family member.

word count 2.4k

masterlist

Holiday’s are tricky. Decisions on whether the trauma of going home will be a heavier burden to bear than the guilt and loneliness of your city apartment. GOing home was never a pleasant experience. Trips filled with parents nitpicking your seemingly successful life and emotionally battering you about anything and everything they could. The only reprieve would be hugging your grandmother and being able to see her face-to-face during dinner. She understood why you didn’t come home every opportunity and didn’t blame you a bit.

On years when it would be too much to travel, you knew that she would still give you a call. Spending all day on the phone with you while you bounced around the kitchen making much smaller portions of what they would be eating at home. Even the small amounts of silence on the call were comfortable. You could feel her next to you kneading the dough for a pie while you mixed together the fruit base. It felt like home.

The silence that has been living in your apartment the past few months after her passing was suffocating. Weekends spent with friends at their apartment just to get out of somewhere that just seems to reek of death and despair.

You had spent more nights at Makki’s place in the past month than at your own. He was your closest friend, a true confidant, someone skilled at lifting your mood, and the person you’ve been undeniably in love with for years. You accepted the fate of growing old with a horde of cats as long as you can have his silly pink hair shining in the sun when you hung out with friends. It’s ok that you are going to be alone forever as long as you still had a standing laser tag date once a month. The only thing stronger than your feelings of love towards the strawberry blond was fear of losing him.

He has been a pillar of strength during the past few months. Holding your crying body until you fall asleep on his tear-stained and snot covered chest. Setting alarms in your phone to make sure you are eating or going to work instead of sitting in a dissociative state. Ever since you shared a bed with him, he’s been a little more comfortable with physical contact. Walking closer together arms touching when going out or throwing an arm over your shoulder when lounging around the house. You can’t count the number of times you’ve both woken up in various stages of cuddling.

He was the one to bring up spending the holidays together. He had just gone home for a wedding and couldn’t afford another ticket and he knew that you were in a weird spot. “We can stay here and make dinner and bake cookies and watch shitty r-romcoms? Someone has to appreciate Hallmark movies, why not us?” You can hear his voice crack and start to speed up as a blush rises across his face. You see it but don’t really process it, more relieved that for the first time in months, the thought of holidays didn’t make you run to the bathroom and throw up. You smiled and nodded, setting plans for him to come over later in the week.

Makki always liked when you cooked, throwing a western spin on dishes he considered normal. But today, he was flabbergasted, you didn’t let him just sit on the barstool curating music while you did all the work, no, there was too much food to be made for him to laze around. You laid out the recipe for your grandmothers’ mac n’ cheese, explaining what everything meant while you got started on an asian fusion stuffing you figured out a few years back.

You stole glances at him in the middle of stirring, combining and folding everything together. His tongue sticks out between his lips while he deliberately measures out the exact amount of cheese required. In all the time you’ve seen him, you’ve never seen him totally lose his laid back air until now, and you can’t control your laugh. Is he really more serious about measuring out sharp cheddar cheese than a game that would take them to nationals? Or that physics final he actually studied for? Your heart skips a beat when you see his soft, satisfied smile to the dish he just created. All you can picture when he looks over to you is how cute of a child he must have been. Cheeks round encasing his bright smile as his head tilts ever so slightly to the left.

After he slides the last dish into the oven, you both opt for taking the time to clean the kitchen, knowing that you won’t want to do it after dinner. The dishes are washed and dried and while Makki puts away the ones that go on a higher shelf, you return flour and other ingredients to the pantry but before you put them down you call out to him, voice lighter than normal, the one you use when asking a favor.

“Taka, how upset would you be if I said I wanted to cook a little bit more?”

“You get dishes this time around then, but what are we makin’?”

You turn out of the pantry with a bounce in your step before slapping down the flour and newly acquired, chocolate chips and sprinkles. “Cookies! We always made cookies with my grandma and it wouldn’t be the same without them.” Your eyes sparkle at the thought of the sweet treats and equally sweet memories of your childhood. Makki thinks you are breathtaking.

“Let me get the bowls back down and we can probably make mediocre cookies if you have anything you do with it.” He smiles at just how cute the squawk you made from his teasing is, just happy that he gets to be here with you. He doesn’t really hear how you defend your baking skills and complain that just because you forgot flour one time doesn’t mean you are inept at baking.

He never thought he would be the type to settle down and be domestic, it just didn’t seem like something he cared a lot about, but now he he can’t rid his mind of the thought of waking up ten minutes before your alarm just to make you a cup of coffee or throwing your favorite blanket in the drier on days it’s raining so when you get home, you can melt into the soft plush and warm up instantly.The clattering of spices brings him back to the moment, turning to see you picking up the cinnamon and vanilla extract.

“You good, love?” There’s something about how you look when you flustered because of him, that scratches an itch he didn’t know was there. The first time a pet name like this had slipped through his lips he was certain that whatever line the two of you were toeing had been crossed, demolished. Instead you just tucked your hair away and averted your gaze back to whatever shitty movie the two of you were “watching” that night. Now it’s normal, well its not normal, its very much not normal for him to refer to you as love or babe and it's not normal for you to exclusivley call him by his first name. It's decidedly abnormal considering your relationship or lack thereof. But if you aren’t going to question it neither is he.

He helps you up and gather the remaining ingredients for the “famous snickerdoodle cookies” that you swear had won awards. The mixing of the dough is interrupted when he has to grab your wrist to stop you from adding salt instead of sugar. You refuse to look at him because you know he is sporting a huge smirk and raised eyebrows, knowing that he’s right about you not being the best baker. You are reprieved by the oven going off, signaling to remove the earlier and change the temperature.

“Damn, babe, these cookies look so good, especially this one.” You return to Makki who already started to lay out the dough on the baking tray. You see perfectly round blobs squished slightly by a fork for a pattern and then right in front of him you see the cookie he was talking about. You didn't expect to see your 27 year old boyfriend-who-isn’t-your-boyfriend to be holding a cockshaoped cookie. But really, you should have seen it coming from the guy who laughs when either of you fart.

He can hear the clock ticking as you just stare, annoyed. He was concerned for a second, that maybe he shouldn’t have made a lewd joke when making cookies. This is something he used to do with her grandmother, you stupid idiot.. But when he can see the apple of your cheek peeking out from behind your hand, he recognizes that face. The one that positively exudes warmth and happiness with her laughter. The butterflies always buzzing in his stomach go wild when this face comes out. He would do anything to see it for the rest of time.

You don’t know where the courage comes from but you cup his cheek for a kiss, he mirrors your action. It just felt normal, and you honestly didn’t realize that it wasn’t normal until you both pulled back. Your eyes are locked on his, both of you sporting a soft smile until his keeps growing, evolving into a laugh that is borderline offensive in how loud it is.

You don’t know why and you get a little nervous that maybe he doesn’t feel the same way, when you go to hide your face, you feel the heat rising but also a soft powdery coating? And that’s when you realize his hands are still coated in flour from shaping the cookies. Your eyes are rolling while you chuckle but Makki on the other hand is losing his mind, almost in tears from laughing while putting the cookies in the oven. “It’s not that funny, Takahiro! Get me a napkin please.”

“Nah, you look really sweet. Good enough to eat.” You weren’t surprised when he returned to kissing you, nor when he lifted you up by your thighs and plopped you on the counter. The kisses are sweet, lazy and perfect for a second kiss, and a third and a fourth. This is normal. His lips belong on yours. Your hands should be tangled up in his hair while his run over your waist and legs. This is right. There's no rush to deepen the kiss, both of you happy to just indulge in the warmth of the other, but it is inevitable. A soft nip at your bottom lip or an accidental tug of his hair, neither of you know what happened first but you both are staring at each other, panting lightly with a much darker gaze than the original flour induced makeout session.

“You are just as sweet as I thought. Gotta have a taste.” His voice is raspier than you’ve ever heard and you just let him move your body as he pleases. Pull your hips to the edge of the counter. Spread your legs as far apart as they’ll go. Lift your hips when he pulls your shorts and underwear down. Gotta act as sweet as he says I am. He has barely touched you but when he falls to his knees and just stares at your dripping slit that he's imagined for years, your eyes, you are already imagining how good he's going to feel.

You shouldn’t even try to think, his tongue exceeded any expectation or desire you had. Expertly flicking against your throbbing clit as he works two fingers in you. You feel the groan he lets out when he dips his tongue into your hole before you hear it. The vibrations reverberate up your spine and through your body, an all-consuming heat starting in your stomach, threatening to let loose, to run rampant on your body. His fingers, joined by another, return to your clenching hole and search for the spongy spot hidden deep inside. All you can hear is the blood rushing through your head, drowning out every other noise.

“C’mon love, cum on my fingers, on my tongue, I’ve wanted, dreamed about this for years, give it to me.” His slow words juxtaposed the fervent pace of his fingers and it was enough to send you over the edge.

You feel so hot you fear you might pass out, the groan Makki lets out beneath you is the only thing keeping you grounded. You were first concerned that you had hurt him in someway, but when you see his eyes roll back into his head and his tongue trying to lap up every single bit of cum you squirted on his face and thighs, you know it wasn’t due to excruciating pain, rather it's just an obscene reaction to you.

When you push him back, squirming with overstimulation, you hear him scramble and “Shit! Fuck! Fire extinguisher?? WHERE IS YOUR FIRE EXTINGUISHER???” You are still out of it until he starts actually screaming, words still evade you but he follows your line of sight to the red tube hiding in the corner next to the fridge. The smell of smoke is overwhelming all of a sudden. You were in a dreamlike post orgasmic state and suddenly your coughing, eyes hazy.

the cookies, SHIT THE COOKIES!! Smoke is billowing out of the oven and your fire alarm is blaring, but soon the room is filled with a white foam originating from Makki. You never realized that the foam would continue to expand until half of your kitchen was covered in it and you saw a sheepish looking Makki on the other side.

“Fires out”. Again, he starts to laugh at you, and this time you join him. Today has turned out entirely different than you expected. It wasn’t a sad day, it was filled with laughter, romance, an ill timed fire and Makki. All in all, a successful holiday, despite the fact everything you cooked was coated in foam. He’d seen you staring at the food and already took his phone out to order food, “Indian or ramen?”

Yeah, you think you’re grandma would be happy seeing you like this. Happy Holidays.

a/n: i don’t really know what this is but the image of makki being a disaster in the kitchen came to me one day and here we are. make sure you read the other fics in the collab

matsukawa’s funeral home winter collab

a/n 2.0: also a/o to @iwaasfairy for making that makki image that i used in my header. i love her more than i love him which say a lot

#hanamaki takahiro #hanamaki drabble #hanamaki x y/n #hanamaki smut #haikyuu smut #makki smut #makki x reader #makki x you #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki.coffee #kristen.writes #oral.espresso

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years ago

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B2:S - Chapter 5

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be lots of Viren deets, Best Boy Soren deets, some writing/continuity stuff, worldbuilding appreciation and half of a theory, Detective Rayla, Moon Temple geeking, Claudium and dark magic, and more!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

(I know for darn sure that I wrote up a post for chapter 4, but I can't find it anywhere so I guess Tumblr ate it and I'll have to redo it at some point, but today is not that day)

Viren, my evil dude, my bad guy, coming in clutch with the worldbuilding and backstory again! If you want to know decades of information, you gotta talk to Viren. Or read his scenes, at least. Here, he seems to not sleep much when he has a big problem to analyze his way through. Solutions trump pretty much everything else in this guy's life, and he's had a really hard week with a lot of new and complicated problems. Of course he's getting sleep-deprived trying to find his way through them all.

Harrow put so much trust in Viren when he made him High Mage! He just threw himself extra hard at that Lady Justice blindfold, didn't he? Didn't really want to see what Viren was doing in his magic study, so he left Viren to his devices. And Viren has a lot of devices.

Also, this is fascinating: Viren made the secret passage to his "less official study" in Katolis Castle! And he was inspired to do so by the way his own mentor kept the Puzzle House. What else could a Puzzle House be, except a place with secret passages? Yay! secret headcanon that "the Puzzle House" is just "Katolis Castle" from Kid Viren's perspective tho

So either Viren built all of those passageways, or at least the ones to his dungeon. Which means he has to have, or know where to get, a stash of those glowing blue Moonshadow crystals. Hmmm.

I can't wait to learn more about Kpp'Ar and young Viren, btw. From this description of Viren and all his literal secret ways, it feels like another parallel between Viren and Runaan, with the whole "secretive paths, members only, insider knowledge" type stuff. Only the really cool members of this cult club get to know the secrets, and guess what, kid, you're cool now but you can never tell anyone, okay? Our secret.

Yeahhh, that'll never backfire in any way for either of them.

Kpp'Ar calling puzzles and secrets "man-made magic," though. Yes sir, knowledge is indeed power.

This chapter mentions Runaan by name, from Viren's perspective. Generally that would imply that Viren knows his name, even though assassins do not share their names, and Runaan didn't seem to give his to Viren in the first book. However, there was a scene in book one where the last paragraph switched perspective from Viren to Runaan - a technique that's very common in visual media like movies and shows and gives you that "ohoho they left the room and didn't notice this, but you do!" vibe. Using Runaan's name there in book one, where Viren couldn't see it but readers could, helps them keep track of the assassin's story arc while maintaining Viren's racism.

So in book two, in which Runaan has no onscreen scenes (alas), using his name in a scene that calls back to the events in book one helps us remember what happened in that dungeon cell. It would be a bit muddier to recall the specifics if Viren kept thinking about Runaan as "Elf." So I'm cool with the perspective nudge because it serves a narrative purpose: clarity. But I'm also enjoying the angst of considering that, somehow, Viren learned Runaan's name either during or after the coining spell. Mwa ha ha haaa. (Obligatory "Keep my pretty name outta your mouth" goes here)

Okay, back to Viren's scheming! He took the mirror because it was human-sized in a dragon lair. He knew it didn't really fit there, and that made it interesting, so he stole it. But he realized it was really powerful when Runaan wouldn't tell him squat about it - the assassin's instinct to protect Xadian secrets from human hands meant that Viren was holding a very powerful Xadian secret. And that just made him want it all the more. Ah, Runaan, if only your relationship with lying was, like, the exact opposite of what it is. Nyx could've spun Viren a believable tale in 2 minutes flat.

Also of interest: Viren considers his cursed coins to be a final fate. He expects Runaan to remain in his coin forever. With the Chekhov's coins still extant in the storyline, we can assume that they'll come up again eventually, but Viren has no current plans to do anything with his elf money except carry it around.

It's worth noting that Viren admits that he got impatient when he trapped Runaan in the coin. Runaan's first fate in Katolis was supposed to be death at Soren's hands, but Claudia "saved" him from that. His next fate was to become spell components, but Viren's frustration with his stubbornness "saved" him from that fate, too. So now he's in a coin, where no one can chop him up at all. Yay? No, boo!

We get one last line about Runaan before Viren shifts gears: he makes a point of noting for us that Runaan's shackles are still locked shut. However much of Runaan made it into that coin - body, soul, hair care products - he was magicked there, pulled right out of his restraints.

The creepy black liquid that Viren pours right into his eyes is the last of a powerful potion he got from Kpp'Ar, and its recipe is ancient! Humans used it back in the age of Elarion to see through the illusions of the world. And we get a delightfully creepy bit of description about the preparation of this serum, which makes it abundantly clear that it's a Moon magic-based concoction, harvested from eyeless vipers on a moonless night, with the threat of irrevocable madness ("madness" by whose definition, though) if it's done wrong-

Hang on. Hold up. This is a Plato's Cave reference. OH MY GOD.

No no I'm fine, this is brilliant. Sorry, sorry, I couldn't figure why there was so much description for a potion prep that Viren didn't even have to perform himself. But now I get it. I see the light. HA. I should make a separate post for this, it's amazing.

Anyway, for reference, the humans who used this serum were called the Oracles of Ophidia, and Ophidia is a taxonomy group that includes all modern snakes. Can you say "creepy ancient snake rites"? I can! Woo!

Viren activates the serum with a spell, but apparently he's never done it before. He's not sure if it's supposed to be hot and bubbly, and he worries that it's been tainted by moonlight.

Oh, I do hope so.

The magic potion hurts, a lot. Viren will do just about anything, to himself or anyone, to do what he believes is necessary. He just risked madness and blindness to find out what this mirror does! Viren. Can you just. Take a nap or something. Have a Snickers.

This chapter gives us a fun clue that I don't remember from the show: when Viren's vision clears and he can see, his reflection has white pupils and the room reflected in the mirror has inverted colors. You know where else has inverted colors?

You know who else got white pupils for a hot second?

Okay, now it makes sense! Viren and Lujanne were both seeing into the realm beyond life and death. Him with his moon magic potion, and her with her moon powers on a full moon night at the Moon Nexus. Which is Very Interesting! Is it a direct hint about Aaravos's location, or just a separate cool detail? Orrr, does it look like a direct hint because Aaravos is actually trapped in the world beyond life and death, but it's actually separate and we'll see something about white pupils again later on?

Viren really does have self-esteem issues, we all picked up on it with his rant at his reflection. He throws a fit when he catches himself wondering if he's actually worthless. In the book version of his tantrum, he shoves the mirror and hurls a candelabra instead of flipping a table. He didn't need to shove the mirror to set the fire, but it's in here. Foreshadowing that perhaps, if push comes to shove, Viren will choose himself over Aaravos? Giving Aaravos time to peek through and see that the coast is clear?

Soren, my boyyyyy. He has a rough night at the Moon Nexus because two sides of him are fighting with each other. He struggles to understand Callum's friendship with Rayla, and he also fantasizes about chopping off Rayla's head. One of these is a pretty ordinary thing to do. The other is Soren's internalization of what he needs to do to gain his father's approval. If he brought his dad a chopped off elf head every week, he'd probably feel a lot more confident because Viren would praise him a lot more.

Okay, okay, omg, is it just me, or does the "Moonshadow Madness" story, as it's told in the book, seem like Soren just doesn't know what a monsterfucker is? He thinks an elf bite puts humans under a spell. But vampires are sexy, and some people want them to do more to them than just bite them. A passionate kiss under the moonlight could look very bitey, especially if one of the participants has horns and you're already culturally trained to hate them. No yeah, I'm already headcanoning an actual human-elf kiss that got misunderstood by an observer long ago.

it's Lujanne isn't it, we all know, because what is a love spell but a sweet soft illusion, I mean how else does she get supplies for her Caldera, I ask you, and also Corvus was totally sent to investigate once and he told Soren at camp what he saw

And then back to magefam angst: Soren pretending that his sister's nose-tapping is stupid, even though he actually thinks it's cool, just because their dad thinks it's stupid. Viren, istg. Let your kids like harmless things. It's so cute that Soren taps his nose back at her, though! Like they have their own sibling code. I hope we get to see the nose tap again, especially now that they've chosen different sides. It could mean so much, that they're not too far apart yet.

Rayla knows what buttery pancakes smell like. I love this. Do Moonshadow elves have butter and pancakes, does Rayla eat a stack of eight giant pancakes in the morning? Orrrr it is just illusion food? I don't care, let Rayla have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes. Pancakes will save the world. this message brought to you by the fact that I can't eat pancakes rn, send help

I love that Rayla is both sus of the pancakes and hungry, and that combines into a very motivated "I will get to the bottom of this" attitude. She kind of goes into Poirot Mode when she inserts herself into Soren and Ellis's conversation about Ava, explaining about the wolf's illusion leg and segueing into her claim that the pancakes taste sus. Claudia confirms she used dark magic, and Rayla is furious. It's different than the show's version in that it puts Rayla in detective mode, as the only Moonshadow elf in the scene, and boy does she take that role seriously. Also, she doesn't actually swallow the dark magic pancake bite. It ends up on the ground just like Lujanne's grubs from that earlier meal. These poor kids are so nutrient-starved. You guys gotta eat!!

Rayla's determination and prejudices and the fact that she super knows Harrow is dead all dovetail to make her try repeatedly to persuade Callum that Soren and Claudia are Not To Be Trusted. It's nice that the book keeps taking the time to point out that Rayla is Well Intentioned But Flawed, just like Callum and pretty much every other character in the show. No one is Right All The Time, no one Knows More Than Everyone Else.

Callum loving the sound of Claudia's unique voice is so wholesome. When you like someone, it only makes sense that you like all the things about them that they can't change - like the sound of Claudia's voice. Her choices with dark magic, not so much!

Claudia seems to have the same concerns Soren does about Callum's relationship with Rayla, but she comes out and asks him. The inherent possession implied in "your elf" is interesting, though. Elves are not people to Claudia. They're enemies who can be disassembled for the magic inside them. So maybe more like robots than living beings, if she knew what a robot was. Maybe she heard Soren's "Moonshadow Madness" story and realized he totally missed the kissing implications - but she didn't, and now she's genuinely worried that Rayla could kiss Callum under a full moon and enchant him to do her will. Good thing it's only a half moon, then!

Okay, Callum nervously making a puppet hand and then not knowing what to do with his hands and freaking out about itching and moving and pointy elbows is such a ND mood. The sudden stress of knowing that someone else is noticing your existence and maybe you're Not Existing Right, amirite? Ugh, poor Callum.

The Moon Temple! Omg it's so pretty in the description! Made to be beautiful and useful, full of knowledge but also allowing light and life inside (butterflies and vines). Lujanne, when can I move in, please? Also, it's all the more angsty because Lujanne is the only one who gets to see this beautiful place, but it has lots of chairs and shelves and tables, and it was meant to be used by lots of people. :(((

Claudia knows some of the runes on the walls. She isn't in a hurry to copy the rest of them down or anything, either. Her spellwriting is very precise, and she's a skilled mage. Her father would have made sure she was aware of the dangers of drawing sloppy runes, as much as he made her aware of the dangers of doing dark magic wrong. And the whole point of dark magic is that it's easier to learn than primal magic. Claudia supports her dad and their shared knowledge and life path. She's not gonna go nuts over an elf library she can't translate.

Side note: Between Claudia knowing some Moon runes and Viren building a secret passageway and a dungeon and lighting it with the same blue crystals that Lujanne and Ethari use for light--and Claudia exclaiming that she loves ruins--I wonder once more if there are really Moonshadow ruins somewhere in Katolis, which Viren has found and looted. Father-daughter relic hunting trip, maybe while Soren is away at camp? Omgsh that would be so wild!

Callum out here having a Viren moment with his "I feel powerless unless I've got magic that lets me help" vibes. God. I love their complicated mirroring. One of the hard differences between them is that Callum is very sure dark magic is bad because you have to kill stuff and take its power to cast spells, and he doesn't want to be a person who kills and takes like that. The line he walks to be nice to Claudia on their tour of the Cursed Caldera because he likes her, while telling her that he doesn't want to do her magic, like, ever, is so fine that it might as well be a shifting shadow on the ground. It's a very fitting conversation to be having during the half moon, with its tricks and little white lies.

Callum being out of the castle and his comfort zone, having to deal with the fact that the Claudia he loves is not quite the Claudia who's chasing him down across the kingdom, but of the two of them, he's the only one with a problem with this.

They say that if you really want to get to know someone, you should spend time with them outside their comfort zone - in heavy traffic, with a small baby, taking care of a new pet, trying a new skill, following unfamiliar directions, etc. While the castle is familiar territory for them both, Callum's never really found his comfort zone yet, while Claudia is pretty comfortable with her growing skill set. The creepy part starts to kick in when Callum begins to realize that Claudia's comfort zone encompasses a whole bunch of stuff that seems like it should make her uncomfortable... but it doesn't. But that'll be for a future chapter!

#book two: sky spoilers #book two: sky #b2:s #tdp spoilers #viren #harrow #rayla #runaan #callum #claudia #soren #lujanne #moonshadow elves #aaravos

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nyxocity · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Questions!

Thanks to @redmyeyes for the tag!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

82, although that's not even close to my actual total. There's a bunch on LJ that have never been transferred (all shorter works)

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,780,805 (over 2mil on LJ)

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Mostly three, plus a couple dips into a few other pools. X-Men Comic Book fandom, Buffy & Angel fandom (they kinda count as one since it's the same universe), and Supernatural & SPN RPF. Dips have included Dragon Age, Firefly, a tiny bit of TVD, a Sons of Anarchy crossover.

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

This is tough if I go by numbering. Homework Verse has the most kudos scattered across all parts, but Stranger Than Fiction has the most as a single story. Anyway...

Homework Verse (J2 RPF, 200k+ words) - My very first RPF fic, Supernatural or otherwise. Two of my online fandom friends basically TOLD me I was going to write Teacher/Student J2, and I kept protesting that I drew the line at RPF. They didn't care. 200k later, here we are. This story was a game changer for me; it made me fandom famous. I still love those boys with my whole heart, and they still talk to me sometimes.

Stranger Than Fiction (Sam/Dean, 50644 words) - This story idea took root immediately following the episode The Monster at the End of This Book. I quit the Big Bang I'd already begun writing for that year (which was Who Watches Over Me, which I finished and posted for BB the following year) to write this story. It just took hold hold of me and took over. I wrote it in 6 weeks and it was easily the most fun I ever had writing anything--I cackled like a madwoman most of the time.

Who Watches Over Me (J2 RPF, 96591 words) - This story was, at the time, the toughest thing I'd ever written. Little did I know that would become the norm and not the exception, as I began to write more complex stories. It was by far the longest story I had ever posted all at once in its entirety (rather than chapter by chapter) and I had no idea if people would like it. Fortunately a lot of people did.

Like Staring Into the Sun (Sam/Dean, 23243 words) - Ah, my very first hardcore Wincest fic. I remember writing the first chapter of the story (meant to be a one shot honestly), and just sitting there, at 5am, being terrified to post it. It was twisted, dark and intense and SO porny I was scared people might think I was weird. There wasn't anything like it out there at the time. As it turns out, people loved it so much I ended up writing eight more parts.

Like a Fish Out of Water (Sam/Dean, 59498 words) - I have a lot of love for this story. It didn't come to me easily, but it was fun to write. I remember smiling a lot and just having a nice, warm cozy feeling the whole time. I had no idea if anyone was interested in reading this many words of what amounted to a dramedy curtain fic

Of course there are other stories that I feel deserve love, but I can't argue with these.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do. And by that, I mean I try. I don't always succeed in answering them all, but I answer as many as I have time and energy for. Life is busy and there is writing to do as well. I read every comment I get (multiple times) and I feel guilty for all the ones I don't answer, because they mean SO MUCH TO ME. Like you took time to leave this beautiful, well thought out comment, or even a keysmash, or a heart, in response to something I wrote. That means the world.

I WISH there was a reaction function for comments on Ao3, so I could heart things, or laugh in response. Replying with emojis without words feels weird. So yeah, a reaction function would be amazing. But in the meantime, I do my best.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hmm. Probably A Touch of Evil. Interestingly, it's also a HAPPY ending, so there you go lol. It's a serial killer love story with a happy ending that comes at an exorbitant price.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I'm not sure why the OG post skips from 6 to 8 lol . So, yes, I have written a few minors crossovers. Mostly Faith in the SPN verse with the boys, nothing too crazy, because she fits right in. But for long stories, I have written all of ONE crossover. It's Dean Winchester/Jax Teller (SPN / Sons of Anarchy). My crossovers so far have tended to make sense to crossover, so I don't think any of them are crazy.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. I got some hate on a Buffy/Xander fic back in the day. I got really excited and had fun with it. Like yeah, now I'm SOMEBODY! You're no one til someone hates you lol Most of that was people who were haters of the ship, or were like, gross, they're like brother and sister (they weren't, they were FRIENDS). I've gotten nasty comments here and there on some of my SPN fic. My favorite was the person who accused me of having a "Top Dean Agenda". I STILL laugh about that one. I don't respond to that crap.

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Have you MET ME? LOL If I ever post a story without smut just put me out to pasture, because I'm done. And all kinds. Het, Gay, PWP, Plotty porn, mostly super kinky but some vanilla (but intense). I used to challenge myself regularly to see if I could up my kink game--like hmm, but could I write THIS? I haven't written really kinky sex in a long time, though. Might be time to do that.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Several times. Who Watches Over me was stolen by someone and converted to One Direction Lourry fic. Literally just did a name change. Someone else stole a bunch of my one shots and passed them off as their own. I know there were a couple other instances but I only vaguely remember. I never got too deep into it, most of the time the people who discovered the theft already told everyone else too, and the plagiarist had been hammered by them so hard that I didn't have to step in before they took it down.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes. I used to get requests so often that I just posted my usual response in my profile for people to read instead of replying. Definitely into Russian and Chinese for most of the stories listed with most kudos above.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A few times on one shot fics. SO MUCH FUN. I love co-writing with people.

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

Sam/Dean. Easily. Hands down. I just love their unique relationship, bond and love so much.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Well I finally finished A Touch of Evil after posting 3 chapters in 2009 and never touching it again until 2017. And I never thought I'd finish that. So never say never, I say. That said, there's the third and final part of my X-Men comic book epic that remains unfinished by about five (shorter) chapters, and it HAUNTS ME. But I don't think I'll ever finish it.

16) What are your writing strengths?

NOW we get to the hard questions. I'm really good at dialogue, bouncing banter back and forth between characters, and I have a sense for how long a scene should be. I just KNOW when it's going on too long, even if there's more that needs to be said, and I try to tighten it up in that case.

A friend of mine once told me "Porn is my gift". I don't write as much of it as I used to, but yeah, I shine in that area.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

So I always reach a point after writing so many words in an unpublished fic where I'm like, I have no idea if this is even any good/makes sense/hangs together etc. Beyond that, I've been writing for so long that I've had so much practice that I've strengthened a lot of my weaknesses. I'm sure I still have some, but I don't FEEL them like I used to anymore. That said, there are things I simply will not write. Like historical pieces. Because I would research the fuck out of every detail trying to get it perfect and then I would still doubt myself completely.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I mostly try to avoid it, because there's no way I would ever get the language correct. I usually write it in English and then explain that they're saying it in another language. Like, "What are you doing?" the man asks, speaking in Chinese. Then reiterate in the continuing dialogue in various ways that they're speaking in Chinese.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

X-Men Comic Book fandom. I was reading a lot of Remy/Rogue fic back in 1996-1997, and one day I was like, you know what? This person did a pretty good job on this story. It's not great, but it's pretty good, and if they can have the guts to put it out there, then I can do it, too.

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

This is a tough question. I don't love all my children equally, but I love them all a lot in different ways lol

Remembering favorite is different than which one I think is BEST... Homework Verse is probably my favorite. I was learning so much about writing then, I was really growing, and discovering, and pushing my limits. Those characters lived and breathed in me, I swear they spoke through me from some alternate universe. They feel so REAL to me. There's so much of what I've learned in life in that story, like really, big, life changing ideas and understandings that happened to me that I put into that story. There's so much of me in that story, and yet there's so much of THEM, too. It's their story, but it's also mine. It's raw and not entirely perfect and it feels like home to me.

So that's it, that's my piece. I feel like EVERYONE has been tagged since it took me 3 days to have time to do this, but I'm basically tagging any of you writers out there who haven't done this yet!

#my stories #about me #writing #on writing

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broccoliboix5peepeeman · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: Class 1-A is tired of tododeku dancing around each other so they propose a little round of 7 minutes in heaven to try getting them together. Bonus: Shoto doesn't understand the game so he asks Midoryia to explain it when they're locked together.

Omg the drama, yessssss!

Ochaco was annoyed.

Granted, this wasn't an uncommon occurrence. When Bakugou said something mean to Deku, she was ready to float that demon gremlin into space. When Mineta objectified her female classmates, she conjured the wrath of the whole universe to send him into oblivion. When people called Iida 'too robotic to have any real feelings', she responded by doing things the class rep definitely wouldn't approve of.

Yeah, Ochaco could get very irritated.

However, this time, it wasn't a rude comment or a perverted action that infuriated her. It was a lack of… Well, anything really.

She sat at the dining room table, ignoring her maths homework as she stared across the room and glared at Deku, who was sitting on one of the sofas, frozen in place as Todoroki napped next to him, resting his head on her friend's shoulder.

Ochaco knew the two liked each other. It was obvious from the way Deku talked about him and through the fact that Todoroki literally felt comfortable enough to fall asleep on him. Yet, neither of them would do anything about it!

She made eye contact with Deku and glared, as if to say, 'Do something, moron!' but he just shook his head and remained still. He could’ve at least wrapped an arm around him, or rested his head against him, but no. He had to be all flustered and awkward.

'Something has to be done.' She announced.

'I agree.' Jirou muttered, voice monotone as she twirled one of her earphone jacks around her finger. 'If I have to watch them dance around each other for much longer, I'm gonna lose my shit.'

'Right?!' Hagakure added, exasperated. 'I walked in on Todoroki waxing poetry about Midoriya's perfect freckles last week. I swear, I've never heard him talk so much. Even Yaomomo looked like she wanted to vomit.'

'What do we do though?' Ochaco sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

'We can't force them together.' A new voice spoke. 'But we can nudge them in the right direction.'

Everyone turned to watch as the back of a nearby desk chair swivelled around to reveal Ashido grinning at them. She was dressed in a suit with black sunglasses, stroking Koda's rabbit on her lap.

When they stared at her in question, she peered at them over the top of her glasses. 'I propose a game.'

'A game?' Jirou raised an unimpressed eyebrow, while Hagakure hummed excitedly.

'What kind of game?' Ochaco narrowed her eyes. As much as she was annoyed at them, Deku and Todoroki were still her friends.

'Gather around, girlies.' Ashido beckoned them closer, confidence ebbed from her very being. 'Allow Auntie Mina to show you the way.'

☀️🌙

The girls were quiet.

Izuku narrowed his eyes at them, gathered around the dining table as they whispered in hushed voices.

Too quiet.

Todoroki shifted slightly and Izuku quickly turned his attention away from his scheming classmates and to his best friend. He loved moments like this. Todoroki looked so peaceful and Izuku felt honoured that his friend trusted him enough to be so vulnerable around him.

He smiled softly, noticing the often hard lines of his face soften - an unguardedness that looked so out of place, yet had started to become increasingly familiar on Todoroki's features. Overwhelmed with emotion, Izuku wanted nothing more than to reach out and stroke his chubby cheeks, run his hands through silky hair, squeeze his arms around him and bring him closer.

But he didn't want to ruin things.

He knew Todoroki had a difficult home life. He had years of trauma to work through and Izuku was no different. He still flinched when he heard loud noises, just like Todoroki did when touched unexpectedly. Izuku also knew that he was Todoroki's first ever friend.

He couldn't risk destroying that by being selfish enough to tell him how he really felt.

'Hey, Deku-kun!' Uraraka sang, suddenly in front of them.

Izuku waved in greeting, before gesturing to Todoroki and urging her to be quiet.

She ignored him.

'Aw! Is Todoroki-kun asleep?' She batted her eyelashes innocently and Izuku mustered his biggest warning glare. 'Don't worry, Deku-kun! I'm glad actually, because I wanted to ask you, when do you plan on telling Todoroki-kun how you really feel about him?'

'Shhhh!!!' Izuku frowned and shook his head. 'Oh no. We're not doing this again, Uraraka-san.'

'Why not?' Her voice was sickeningly sweet. 'It's not like he can hear us.'

'It doesn't matter.' He whispered harshly. 'We've been through this. I'm not confessing because Todoroki-kun doesn't like me like that.'

'How do you know?'

'Because I'm me. No one feels that way about me.' Izuku sighed. 'And he doesn't care about romance stuff anyway! He’d totally freak out if I told him I wanted to hold his hand or kiss him-'

Todoroki suddenly twitched on his shoulder and Izuku almost launched himself into the air. Instead, he covered his mouth with his hand and stared at him in alarm.

He missed Uraraka's amused smirk.

'I'll hold your hand, Deku.' She spoke, smoothly, causing Izuku to shoot her a look. However, he quickly became distracted by the increase in temperature around him.

Is it getting hotter in here?

'Just kidding. I know you’re off-limits.’ His friend winked, before collapsing onto the arm of the sofa. ‘Anyway, I actually came over because me and the girls are organising a sleepover tonight and we want you and Todoroki-kun to come!’

‘I dunno, Uraraka-san.’ Izuku bit his lip.

‘Oh Deku-kun...’ Uraraka smiled playfully and crossed her arms. ‘Were you under the impression that this was an optional invitation?’

Izuku stared into determined hazel eyes and gulped.

☀️🌙

Shoto wasn’t quite sure how he got himself into this position.

One moment, he was asleep on Midoriya, having a lovely dream where his friend admitted to Uraraka that he wanted to kiss him, and the next, he was sitting in a circle with the rest of his class, waiting while Mineta and Bakugou stood in a broom cupboard together.

Shoto wasn't entirely sure what the point of that particular game was, but he'd learnt long ago not to question his classmates' antics. Plus, he had more important issues to focus on, like the fill-in game Ashido had decided to start between each pair-up. Apparently, everyone had to raise their hands, while the speaker admitted to never having done something before. Then, if you had done it before, you had to lower a finger.

Shoto wasn't sure what happened when you ran out of fingers.

'Never have I ever been walked in on by my parents.' Jirou smirked.

Several people lowered a finger, including Shoto. After all, his father never had learnt the concept of knocking. Privacy was non-existent in the Todoroki household.

'Woah, dude! You're telling me Endeavour has walked in on you jerking one off?' Kaminari sputtered.

'What?' Shoto raised an eyebrow. 'He used to walk in my room all the time when I was studying or napping. Yeah, I called him a jerk because of it, but-'

'It's okay, Todoroki-kun. Ignore him.' Midoriya laughed nervously. 'You can put your finger back up.'

'But-'

'Never have I ever broken a bone in my body.' Uraraka interrupted with a giggle. Shoto hummed suspiciously but let the matter go this time.

'URARAKA-SAN!' Midoriya exclaimed. 'How could you? This is a betrayal of the highest form.'

'Suck it up, Osteoporosis.' She stuck her tongue out and waited. Over half of the room, once again including Shoto, lowered their fingers.

'Fine, be that way.' Midoriya mumbled, before stroking his chin in thought. 'Never have I ever-’

'HAS IT BEEN SEVEN MINUTES YET?!' Bakugou suddenly roared from inside the closet, promptly silencing Midoriya. 'I swear, even an unconscious grape bastard can be annoying as fuck!'

'You knocked him out?!' Uraraka gasped, smacking her cheeks, before her face became eerily stoic. 'Good.'

When Bakugou was finally released, along with a limp Mineta, she then turned back to the circle and handed the empty bottle to Midoriya.

'Your turn, Deku-kun!' She sang. Shoto noticed how his friend turned bright red at the declaration. 'Come on, spin it!'

'O- Okay, fine!' He stuttered, taking it from her with shaking hands. After he placed it back in the centre of their circle, he flicked it with his wrist and it began spinning quickly.

Shoto narrowed his eyes when the bottle cast a small shadow as it rotated, but he quickly became distracted when the bottleneck suddenly came to an abrupt stop in front of him.

'Well, would ya look at this!' Ashido gasped dramatically. 'Midoriya, Todoroki! Give us your phones and get in the closet!'

'Wait!' Midoriya exclaimed, but he was promptly silenced when Uraraka pounced on him, stole his phone and carried him to the storage room, throwing him over her shoulder like he weighed nothing.

Shoto looked at the rest of the class, sighed and handed Hagakure his phone, before he followed his classmates, significantly more civilised than Midoriya, who was flailing around and shouting for Uraraka to put him down.

'Whatever you say, Prince Deku.' She smirked, before opening the door and throwing him into the small room. When he landed with a thud, she gestured for Shoto to follow.

The moment they were both inside, the door slammed shut behind them and they were surrounded by darkness.

'Are you okay, Midoriya?' Shoto asked as he heard his friend clamber to his feet.

'Yeah, yeah. I've had worse.' Midoriya laughed, before his tone became more sombre. 'Ugh, Todoroki-kun, I'm so sorry about this.'

Why was he sorry?

'It's okay.' He shrugged. 'I know they took our phones but we don't have to stay in the dark.'

'Wait, no. Todoroki-kun, I didn't mean-'

Shoto raised his left hand and conjured a small flame, which illuminated the broom cupboard. Cylindrical shadows cast upon the walls, dancing slightly as his fire flickered. The action also allowed Shoto to glance at Midoriya, who rubbed the back of his neck nervously. A harsh flush decorated his cheeks.

'Are you sure you're okay? You look hot.' Shoto reached out a cool hand to check his friend's forehead.

'Ah!' He felt slightly hurt when Midoriya jumped back. 'I'm f- fine, really! I'm just… Sorry for dragging you into this.'

Yeah, about that…' Shoto looked away and scratched his cheek. 'What exactly is this?'

Midoriya somehow managed to turn even redder.

'W- Well, I didn't th- think you'd ask that-' He covered his face with his hands and began mumbling to himself about how they were friends and something about crushing someone.

Shoto was very confused.

'No, what's this 7 Minutes in Heaven game we’re supposed to be playing?' Shoto raised an eyebrow. 'I don't actually understand why we're in here, but I didn’t want to ask the others.'

The mumbling stopped. Midoriya's head shot up and he looked at Shoto with watery eyes that reflected the light of his orange flames.

'O- Oh…' He looked momentarily relieved and let out a laugh. 'That… Makes more sense. Ignore me!'

'But I asked you a question?' Shoto tilted his head to the side. 'There would be no point asking if I ignored you.'

'I… I didn't mean… Oh nevermind!' Anxiety came flooding back to Midoriya's face. 'Okay, so basically two people get randomly picked to go into a small space together for seven minutes - but you already knew that, huh? Of course you did. Right so, there's no set rules for what we're meant to do in here, we can technically do whatever we want, but usually, the two people selected have to… Er…’

‘Yes?’ Shoto pressed.

He watched as Midoriya twirled a loose strand of hair around his finger and narrowed his eyes.

‘We’re expected to k- ki- kiss and stuff.’ He finally answered. ‘The game’s designed to get people together romantically.’

‘Oh...’

'Not that we have to kiss or anything!' Midoriya scrambled to clarify, frantically waving his hands in front of him. 'I don't want to make you do anything you're not comfortable with and I totally understand that you don't want to kiss me!'

'I never said I didn't want to kiss you.' Shoto frowned. He actually quite liked the idea of kissing Midoriya. He was brave, kind, attractive and someone incredibly special to Shoto. He’d never wanted to kiss someone or hold their hand before, not until Midoriya came into his life. Now, the idea was rather appealing.

‘Well, no… But I just sort of assumed-’

‘Do you want to?’ Shoto suddenly blurted out, before he could stop himself.

Midoriya’s eyes widened.

‘Do I want to what?’

‘Kiss me. Do you want to kiss me?’ Shoto clarified, shuffling on his feet. Heat flooded to his cheeks and his stomach felt funny, but all he could focus on was the surprised look Midoriya flashed him, as he searched Shoto’s eyes questioningly.

‘Y- Yes...’ He stuttered out, taking a step closer.

Shoto mirrored the action.

'Good, because I want to as well.'

Izuku smiled at that and found Shoto's free hand, tentatively intertwining his fingers with his own calloused ones.

Shoto swallowed at the contact, familiarising himself with how much warmth such a small touch could radiate. 'Kiss me.'

He watched as Midoriya drew closer, regarding him through heavy-lidded eyes as he reached up. Shoto felt the pad of a rough thumb stroke his cheek and immediately leant into the touch, eyelashes fluttering.

'With pleasure.' Midoriya's breath fanned against him and Shoto inhaled sharply when those wonderful lips finally met his own.

His flame burnt ever brighter and Shoto quickly extinguished it before it could grow out of control. When darkness surrounded them once more, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to be completely consumed by the feeling of slightly chapped lips pressing against his own. He had no idea what to do next, but when Midoriya opened his mouth and licked at the seam of his lips, Shoto eagerly parted them in response.

As they deepened the kiss, he let go of Midoriya's scarred hand and wrapped his arms around his waist instead, pulling him closer as his friend tangled his fingers in his hair. A slight tug at his roots had Shoto gasping into Midoriya's mouth.

Feeling bold, he snaked his hands under his friend's shirt and explored his toned torso with half-hot half-cold hands. The juxtaposition in temperature coaxed a string of moans from Midoriya, which sent shivers down Shoto's spine. Hoping to hear more of those wonderful noises, he proceeded to drag his nails down a freckled back, eliciting a guttural sound that he'd never heard from Midoriya before. However, it was quickly swallowed by another kiss.

When Shoto's hands eventually came to rest on his hips, Midoriya pushed him back until he hit the locked door with a thud.

'Fuck, Midoriya.' He barely had time to whisper before those lips were on him again.

It was all moving so fast, but he didn't care. Shoto had gotten a taste of Midoriya and now he was addicted. He craved more and more.

'Is this okay?' His friend asked between each peck of lips.

'Mm, perfect.' Shoto bent forward to mouth at Midoriya's neck. He sucked at the sensitive skin there, not caring if he left a mark.

'This goes without saying, b- but I- ah!' Midoriya panted, tilting his head to give Shoto more access. 'But I really- really like you, Todoroki-kun.'

Shoto pulled off him with a pop and kissed a trail along his jaw, before his lips came to rest against Midoriya's own, their breath intermingling.

'I like you too, Midoriya.' He whispered, rubbing their lips together as his back rested against the door. 'So much.'

Their chests heaved in tandem as they kissed once more, simply enjoying the feel of one another. Touching and smelling and tasting. Shoto had never felt so at peace...

Then the door opened.

Shoto latched onto Midoriya out of reflex as the two of them fell backwards. Calloused hands scrambled to cradle the back of his head, cushioning him when they landed on the floor with a loud thud, and Shoto had to marvel at Midoriya's inherent instinct to protect.

'Todoroki-kun, are you okay? Are you hurt?' He pulled back and cupped Shoto's cheeks to check him over.

'I'm fine, Midoriya.' He reached up to cover his hands with his own and smiled softly.

'Good.' His friend leant back down to kiss him languidly, ignorant of their classmates around them, who were stifling giggles.

'Wow, get a room, guys.' Kaminari heckled.

'We had one actually.' Shoto pointed out as his hands wandered lower. He squeezed Midoriya's ass through his shorts unabashedly, relishing in the small squeak he let out, followed by the jeers from their peers. 'Not our fault you guys decided to interrupt.'

'Bro!'

'Disgusting!'

'Put them things back where they came from or so help me!'

'Stupid Deku and Icyhot!'

'That's one way to come out of the closet, Deku-kun.'

Midoriya giggled quietly at that. Shoto had no idea what Uraraka meant, but he didn't mind. Instead, he just smiled softly and looked up into verdant eyes filled with mirth.

Perfect.

#tododeku #todoroki shoto #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #wingman ochaco #todoizu #todomido #dekutodo #lovely people #AgarJelly writes #i had major writer's block with this but i beat it!#kissing #7 minutes in heaven

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expectingtofly · 4 years ago

Text

Reunion

15x18 coda, Dean goes to the Empty to rescue Cas, Dean confesses his love, happy ending, forehead touching because of course there is

~2k words

also posted on ao3

Jack snapped his fingers and Dean felt something lurch inside his chest, his footing and balance suddenly unstable and tilting, then, just as suddenly, steady.

Slowly, he opened his eyes to darkness extending in every direction, an unnatural light without source illuminating only a few feet ahead of him. He might’ve thought he was floating in space if he couldn’t feel and see his feet on the ground. Fear crept through him as he turned in a slow circle, taking in the total darkness surrounding him. The Empty.

“Cas?” he called. No words left his mouth, not even a vibration in his chest or throat to tell him he’d spoken. It struck him how quiet the Empty was—no, not just quiet—silent. Completely and utterly silent. He couldn’t hear his own breathing, took a step forward and couldn’t hear the movement.

“Cas, where are you?” he called again, or tried to, because panic was welling up in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Silence, like a sponge that soaked up any noise. Desperation, always on the brink of overwhelming him since Cas had been taken before his eyes.

Shutting his eyes again, he took a deep breath, tried to steady himself. Chuck was dead, everyone who had vanished returned. The world set back to rights—but not completely, not yet. He had begged Jack to send him to the Empty, to let him fix this. To save Castiel. He had to do this. He could do this.

Opening his eyes, Dean began walking. He didn’t know where he was walking towards, didn’t even know if he was walking in a straight line. The surface under his feet felt steady enough, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that his next step would find him falling into an abyss. The air around him—if it was air at all—seemed to pulse and waver, as if his movements disturbed this place.

He didn’t know where he was headed, but he had to move, had to search. Ever since Cas had... died (the word still seemed so unfairly final), every other duty had shrunk before this one. Defeating Chuck, saving their world—it was all a precursor to this mission: finding Cas and bringing him home. Maybe it was selfish of him, but Dean knew that if the world went back to normal but didn’t include Cas, nothing would ever feel right.

His eyes strained as he scanned his surroundings for something, anything. At a chill creeping over his shoulders, a tingling across the back of his neck, he spun around. Nothing was there.

Wary, he turned back to the direction he thought he’d been walking in and continued forward. Then he heard a voice that stopped him in his tracks.

You’re not supposed to be here, it whispered. He couldn’t physically hear the words, only felt them slither through his mind. Not a human voice, too sinister and sharp. A voice that must belong to the Shadow, the entity that ruled the Empty, that took Castiel from him. You don’t belong here.

“Where’s Castiel?” Dean tried to ask aloud. His mouth moved wordlessly.

The Shadow laughed. Tendrils of ice snuck along Dean’s arms and he couldn’t resist looking around himself again, wishing he could see the Shadow, put a face to it, fight against something physical.

Castiel is asleep, Dean. He’s content, peaceful. Dean shuddered as the words filled his mind, chilled him to the bone. He asked me to bring him here, don’t you remember? Conjured every happy memory of you and him, spoke of his love for you—his favorite subject—until I heard his happiness from here and returned him to where he belongs. You know that.

Dean knew. Every time he shut his eyes, blinked, he saw the smile on Cas’ face as the Empty enveloped him.

Cas doesn’t belong here, he told the Shadow, thinking the words now instead of trying to speak them. He began walking again, faster now, searching the darkness before him. Millions of angels and demons rested here—where were they? Where was Cas?

The Shadow laughed, more of a sensation crawling along Dean’s skin than a sound in his mind. He doesn’t want you to save him, Dean. Why are you here, truly? To do the noble thing? To fulfill your own need to always save, to always rescue? Are you really that selfish?

The atmosphere around Dean seemed to shift, to press back against him. His movements felt sluggish, as if the Empty was actively fighting him.

You don’t deserve Castiel. You’ve known it for so long— isn’t that why you’ve kept quiet all these years? You never could tell him just how much he meant to you because you knew, you knew you had no right to feel this way.

Dean could feel cold prickling at his scalp, as if the Shadow was roaming through his head, picking through his memories, his doubts, his fears.

Castiel is delusional, isn’t he? the Shadow asked, a hint of amusement in its voice. Why would he ever love you? After the way you’ve treated him, abandoned him, broken his heart time after time after time?

A heavy, despondent feeling settled in Dean’s chest. His footsteps slowed to a stop, almost without his meaning to. Exhaustion settled on his shoulders. It was true, what the Shadow was saying. He didn’t deserve to be loved by Cas, didn’t deserve his sacrifice.

Yes, the Shadow hissed. Leave Castiel alone, Dean. He’s finally at peace. He no longer has to hear how unneeded, how unwanted he is.

I need him, Dean thought desperately. I want him.

The thought brought back Castiel’s own words: “The one thing I want is something I know I can’t have.”

You can have me, Dean had wanted to tell him, but the words caught in his throat because it seemed too good to be true, that Cas wanted him, always had. And then it was too late to tell him.

I’ll bring you back to Earth, the Shadow whispered. Leave Castiel alone. Leave me alone. Castiel doesn’t want you to wake him.

Dean almost nodded his head. His legs felt rooted to the ground, his mind racing with every reason why Castiel was better off without him, all the ways Dean had failed him.

But then Castiel’s words echoed in his mind, louder than the Shadow’s, louder than every painful memory: I love you.

The tears in his eyes, the resignation to his death. Dean knew he couldn’t doubt those words, the weight of emotion behind his sacrifice. Knew he couldn't doubt Cas’ perfect contentedness to sacrifice himself to save him.

“Good things do happen, Dean,” Cas had told him when they first met, and it had seemed so unlikely, so undeserved, but he knew now Cas’ love was one of those good things, the only one that mattered right now.

Take me to him, he told the Shadow, thinking the words with as much force as he could. Take me to him or I will never stop searching. I’ll search this place for eternity, calling Castiel’s name, and you will never get to rest.

The same threat he knew Cas had made when he first went to the Empty. When he died and Dean had felt like he died too. The same fight Cas had put up to return to him.

The voice in his head snarled, Don’t be foolish, Dean.

But Dean knew this was the clearest his mind had been in a long time. Clear certainty of what he must do, of what he must tell Cas. That Cas could have him, all of him, forever.

He began walking again, calling Cas’ name in his mind. Cas died peacefully because he saw no other way, because he needed to save Dean’s life. But there was another way now. No more sacrifice. No more finding peace in death. They could find peace in life, on Earth, together. Dean would make sure of it.

The Empty pushed against him, but he kept walking, kept calling Cas’ name, calling and searching, and the Shadow spat, Fine! I’ll take you to him and you’ll see that I am right.

In the blink of an eye, Dean was no longer alone. A few feet in front of him, a body lay on the ground. The familiar tan of a well-worn trench coat. Castiel.

His heart in his throat, Dean ran forward and dropped down by Cas’ side. “Cas!” he said aloud, the words sucked out of his throat into the vacuum of the Empty. Gingerly, he touched Cas’ shoulder. His eyes were closed, a look of bliss on his face.

Dead, Dean thought with a jolt to his heart. Then he noticed the small shift of Cas’ trench coat and shirt as his chest rose and fell silently.

Sleeping, the Shadow corrected him. And you’ll never be able to wake him because he’s happy. He’s where he wants to be.

Please, Cas, wake up, Dean begged in his mind. He took Cas’ hand in his own, felt its warmth and squeezed tighter. Please.

The Shadow laughed and Cas’s eyes remained closed, his breathing steady.

Cas, I need you, please Cas.

He doesn’t want you, the Shadow taunted in a singsong voice. He’s happy, so happy. The words curled in Dean’s mind, sent a shiver down his spine.

Shutting his eyes, Dean prayed, sending his words outwards, an instinct so familiar, so effortless, it felt like breathing. Cas, the fight’s over. Chuck is dead, everyone’s safe. You can wake up now.

The Shadow snickered, and Dean ignored it, focused on the physical weight of Cas’ hand in his.

You can have me, he prayed. I’m sorry, for never letting you know, for pushing you away. You never deserved any of it. You’re loyal, and kind, and forgiving—and you say I changed you, but you changed me. You changed me for the better, and I don’t want to live without you.

Lifting Cas’s hand, he brought it to his lips. I love you, Cas, you have to know.

Don’t leave me.

I love you.

Distantly, he thought he heard the Shadow howl in anger, and then Cas’ hand shifted in his, fingertips brushing his lips.

Almost scared he had only dreamt the sensation, Dean slowly opened his eyes.

Blue eyes met his gaze.

“Dean?” Cas asked, his voice loud in the silence of the Empty. It rang in Dean’s ears as he stared at Cas, at his eyes open wide and questioning.

Then he unfroze and moved. Grabbed Cas and pulled him to his chest, buried his face in Cas’ neck, clutched at his trench coat. He felt Cas’ hands settle on his back, grip his jacket.

“I love you, Cas,” Dean tried to say. The Empty still stole his voice, his words silent. He prayed instead. I love you.

“I didn’t think you could,” Cas whispered, his voice muffled in Dean’s shoulder. “I didn’t think you loved me back.”

Pulling back, Dean cupped Cas’ face in his hands and Cas held onto his wrists. I do, he told him, prayed. I always have.

Cas smiled, his eyes wet, and Dean felt a tear drip onto his thumb.

Will you come back with me? Dean asked. Will you be happy with me?

Cas nodded and pressed his forehead to Dean’s. “Yes,” he said. “Yes.”

Shutting his eyes, Dean breathed a sigh of relief, felt his own eyes prickle with tears. Thank you.

He helped Cas to his feet, holding tightly onto his hand, and Cas addressed someone Dean couldn’t see. “We’re leaving, and you’re going to let us go.”

You can’t, the Shadow snarled in Dean’s mind.

If you ever want to sleep again, you’ll bring us back to Earth, Dean told it.

The Shadow whined and griped and snarled. Indiscernible sounds that fought in Dean’s mind, filled it to a cacophony—then everything spun and Dean clutched Cas’ hand.

Bright sunlight.

Dean squinted up at a blue sky and realized he was laying on his back. Grass tickled his face and, slowly, he sat up. An open field, a warm breeze, daytime. He let out a shaky breath and heard it, heard birds chirping in the trees lining the field, heard the wind shifting the leaves.

Earth. Home.

Cas shifted, and Dean looked down at him where he lay, still tightly gripping his hand. Cas blinked up at the sky, at him, and Dean started laughing, from relief, from joy. A smile spread across Cas’ face and he sat up, leaned into Dean.

“Thank you,” he said and there wasn’t any sadness in his eyes anymore, just happiness.

“I love you,” Dean said aloud, finally, and the words never sounded so right.

Tag List:

@becky-srs @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @xojo @marvelnaturalock @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @spnwaywardone @letsjustdieeveryone @spookyskeletonsandallthezombies @good-things-do-happen-dean

Let me know (message, ask, comment) if you’d like to be tagged in my other random destiel fics or removed from the list :)

#coda #15x18 #i've read so many good codas on this subject #and had to add my take #honestly i'll be happy with anything that involves #a love confession #tears #and pretty please a forehead touch #destiel #deancas fic #castiel #angst and pining #happy ending #expectingtofly writes

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erinxneil · 4 years ago

Text

22: “Sorry we are late, we were totally not having sex.”

Thank you so much for suggesting this @mortallythoughtfulgurl ! It made me super happy to see that you enjoyed my previous post enough to suggest a specific number! I plan to do all of the prompts on the list, however if there are any specific numbers that you’d like me to do sooner then simply send me a request and I will do so! These prompts are all from the list here.

masterlist

TW: Mentions of Reid’s prior drug problem, mentions of family death.

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Summary: Spencer doesn’t quite understand the concept of being subtle.

>>>These are all basically one-shots! This doesn’t follow the story line as the last post that I made, however I may do a series soon :)

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I smiled as I packed away my things. Not only had the team just solved another successful case.

I, myself had managed to save the victim, as I was able to talk down the unsub simply by using my words. I did this as I understood what the unsub was going through. While, of course, resorting to murder and becoming a serial killer isn’t exactly the first thing that I did after discovering that my sister had been murdered, although I was able to empathize with the killer and thus convince him that murdering a girl who bared resemblance to his kin would not revive her.

I felt my smile droop the faintest bit. While the victory of a successful case made me feel like rejoicing, this case had brought up poor memories. I shrugged them off and headed for the door.

“Hey, Y/N!” JJ called out. I turned around slowly, eyebrow perked in question. “You coming out tonight? We thought we’d head out for some drinks.”

I offered her a tight smile. “Not tonight, guys, sorry.”

Spencer coughed. “Yeah, me neither, I’m not really feeling it.”

Emily frowned. “Reid, didn’t you just say that you we-”

He coughed again. “Yeah. Changed my mind. I’m not feeling well. Is that a problem, Emily?” Spencer cocked an eyebrow in challenge, as if trying to be intimidating. I chuckled a little. While Spencer could be intimidating as hell during cases, such as during interrogations, we all know that he would never do anything that could remotely harm us. However, his sass was welcomed and quite amusing.

I turned. “Well, goodnight, friends. See you tomorrow.” Before I could take even more than three steps, my name was called again.

“Wait, Y/N! You took an Uber here, right?” I blinked. Oh, right, I had completely forgotten about that. I had known we would be leaving the state for a few days for the case, and didn’t want to leave my car here. How did Reid remember that, yet I didn’t? Spencer disrupted my thoughts again. “Well- uh, I could give you a ride. If you’d like.” I quirked an eyebrow at how fidgety he was being.

“Alright, lover-boy, lead the way.” His cheeks tinged at the nickname. It was admittedly quite cute, however he quickly ducked his head and lead me to the car, shielding his face with his hair so that I would be unable to see his blush.

-*-*-*-*-*-

We drove in relative silence for a majority of the car ride. Although surprisingly, it wasn’t awkward. As the case hit me harder than I expected, I welcomed the silence, and was thankful that Spencer didn’t force any conversation between us.

“It’s just the left up ahead.” I muttered quietly. Reid bit the inside of his cheek, eyes remaining focused on the road ahead of him. I blinked as he drove completely past the turn. “Uh, you missed it.” I chuckled nervously.

“I’m not taking you home.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Reid, I hope you don’t plan on kidnapping me. For a profiler, you should know that considering you were the one to give me a ride home, everyone at the BAU saw me get into your car, which would make you a prime suspect.” He smiled softly. “I’m not kidnapping you, Y/N, I just wanted to show you something.”

I furrowed my eyebrows but didn’t question him further until we pulled up on the top of a cliff.

“Woah.” I murmured, admiring the beautiful landscape before me. In the distance, snowy mountaintops scattered the planes, with ashy planes and various kinds of trees. It was the type of image that you would find as a laptop screen background, one that you never imagined you would see in person.

“Where are we?” I questioned. When I wasn’t met with an answer, I turned to glance at Spencer, who jumped in surprise at me looking at him. He blinked abruptly, as if being taken out of a trance.

“This is called Possum Point- or, at least, a crook of it. I come here often when I feel particularly struck by cases that we have.” I smiled. “It’s beautiful. However, I don’t really understand why you’re showing me this.”

Spencer unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car, before moving to my door and opening it for me. He then sat on the hood of the car and patted the spot beside him with a grin. I sat, and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Come on, Y/N, I’m a profiler, you can’t really suppose that I didn’t notice that you took this case personally?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “So what?”

Reid shrugged. “I just figured you’d want someone to talk to. Or at least, I wanted you to know that there’s someone available to listen, if you’re willing.” The corner of my lip tugged upwards. In the moonlight, the features of the man next to me seemed ever the more beautiful. He held direct eye-contact, something that was rare for Spencer, and therefore I knew how genuinely he wanted to comfort me. His delicate features were something I had never really taken notice of before. Before, he was simply Reid. The brainiac agent- sorry, Doctor- whom you happened to work beside. Now, not only did you acknowledge the beauty of his facial structure, you also understood that there was more to him than useless facts and magic tricks. He held compassion that he was willing to offer you.

“Y/N?” His soft voice broke me from my thoughts. In the process of admiring him, you had completely forgotten that he was speaking to you. You sighed.

“I just understand the pain and anger that Homer was feeling. I mean, obviously murder isn’t a reasonable reaction. However, I can understand being angry at the world and wanting to make others feel the pain that you do.” I frowned. “When my sister died, I was in a dark place, and often took out my anger on the people who cared about me, because I didn’t understand how they were allowed to continue living their lives being happy, while my sister wasn’t able to even continue living.”

Spencer wrapped an arm around my shoulder and gently rubbed my arm. “I can’t even imagine how that must have felt. I’m sorry that you had to go through that. Having people all around you but still feeling entirely alone...” His voice trailed off softly. This reminded you that he said he himself comes often when cases cut him too deeply.

“Spencer, what kinds of cases cause you to come out here to reflect?”

“Usually when we have cases focused on unsubs with a drug addiction.” Reid muttered. My eyebrows raised in surprise. I had heard office chatter of rumors of a drug addiction that Reid had battled alone a year or two prior to your arrival at the BAU, although you always took them with a grain of salt, as you hadn’t heard it straight from his mouth. However, it appears that now, you could confirm your suspicions.

You offered him a faint smile. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to it about, or you’d simply like some company on this cliff as well, I’d be more than happy to abide. I feel much better than I did when we left the office.”

Reid met my smile with a grin. “Glad to be of service.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

The next day at work, I could tell that the dynamic between Spencer and I had been altered. Usually, we simply worked beside each other, sparing words of encouragement every now an then. However, after that night, we stole glances, smiled at each other, and often conversed on the jet. We eventually began having lunch together. Spencer would buy me coffee on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I bought it for him on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. We knew each other's orders- I took mine black, while his required as much sugar was available.

Weeks went by, and we only drew closer.

“Alright everyone, remember, dinner tonight at Jose’s Diner! We’re celebrating the release of Rossi’s newest book!” JJ explained to the team as we prepared to leave for the day. “You are to arrive at 8 PM sharp, if you’re late you better have a really good excuse!”

I grinned at JJ’s scolding. While we all knew that she wouldn’t be able to do anything to us, she’s quite terrifying when she’s angry, so I doubted that anyone would dare to arrive a minute after 8:00. I began to head for the door when I was stopped by a nervous Spencer.

“Hey, Y/N, could I give you a ride home?” I grinned. “Of course, Spence.”

When we arrived, I glanced at him expectantly. “So, I suppose you had a reason for offering to drive me home, other than the obvious of course, of you simply enjoying my company.” I smiled coyly, and he scratched the back of his neck anxiously.

“Y/N,” he began slowly, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night on the cliff.” I blinked in surprise, but stayed silent, allowing him to continue. “You’re beautiful, inside and out. You’ve seen me for who I am and it’s like the more time I spend with you, the longer I want to. I’m not quite sure what this feeling is, or what to do about it, but-”

I cut off his rant by planting my lips on his, one hand on the side of his jaw. He froze at first, taken by surprise, however he quickly melted into the kiss and responded. Pulling away for a moment, he smirked, “So I suppose that you feel the same?”

I rolled my eyes in amusement. “Just shut up and kiss me.” I pulled him closer again by the collar of his shirt, and he returned with no protest.

-*-*-*-*-*-

I smoothed out my dress quickly and checked my makeup one last time in the car mirror before turning to Spencer with a smile. It was 8:24. “Alright, we lost track of time a little bit so we don’t have as much time to debrief as I’d like. Remember, just for now, we are keeping this to ourselves. We haven’t even necessarily discussed this between ourselves yet, therefore there is no reason to involve our coworkers right now. You happened to be giving me a ride when your car broke down. Understood?”

Spencer nodded. “Understood.”

“Are you sure?” “I’m sure. Completely understood.”

We walked into the building together and stood next to our coworkers table. All of their eyes lifted to us expectantly. I opened my mouth to give an explanation, however Spencer beat me to it.

“Sorry we are late. We were totally not having sex.”

I blinked. Reid blinked. Our coworkers blinked. The waitress blinked. The table beside us blinked. The clock on the wall blinked.

I sighed. “Well, so much for secrecy.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years ago

Text

Querida

Oh, fucking hell. This fic has eaten my life for the past 2 (?) days.

Tovar and William arrive at the Great Wall and things change irrevocably.

Warnings: first time, shameless smut, indulgent smut, no actual plot.

Word count: 4,000

When the outsiders were dragged in, they looked more animal than human, long hair and thick, knotted beards, covered in thick, dirty armour and furs. You struggled to make out their features from across the huge hall.

If this was what existed beyond the protective barrier of the wall, well, you weren’t missing anything.

The only other Westerner you’d seen was William Ballard, the former mercenary who’d been held here since he tried to steal black powder over twenty years ago. You were only a small girl then, but over the years he’d taught you English, gained your slightly dubious trust.

You saw him eyeing the two strangers - one fair haired, tall, one darker, stockier, and wondered if he’d try and make friends.

Ballard was polite to you, even kind sometimes, but you never suspected that he’d stopped trying to escape. He always looked furtive, always seemed to have an agenda crawling under his skin, barely concealed.

The strangers were led off to the barracks. You could smell them from here, and, disgusted, you dipped your head back to your bowl of hot, fragrant stew, pairing it with soft, spiced bread.

You hadn’t missed the way the captured soldiers had eyed the food and suspected they were hungry. Maybe even starving. According to reports from the scouts, there was precious little in the way of vegetation of sustenance in this part of China, so they’d have been hard pressed to stay well fed.

******

As you trained with the fellow members of your patrol unit, all the gossip centred around the two strangers, and how yīngjùn - handsome - they were after cleaning up in the barracks. You bent to your task and tried to ignore the idle chatter. Sometimes you indulged, but ever since your mother had been savaged by a Tao Tei that breached the wall, costing her her arm, you’d forgone any sort of idleness or pleasure, focusing on being strong, preparing to fight the monsters, and helping to work on strategy against them.

At dinner, you joined everyone in the great hall, and after gathering your food and sitting, you found yourself opposite the two Europeans. You stared for a moment, reconciling them with the two hairy, unwashed oafs you’d seen only yesterday.

“Evening to you,” the fair-haired one said in a lilting accent. He elbowed the darker one. “Tovar.”

Tovar looked up from his food. “Buena noches.” He’d shaved all his beard save a moustache and some scruff around his jaw. The removal of the scraggly beard showed off the shape of his face, drew attention to his big, soulful brown eyes.

“That’s “good evening” in Spanish,” the fair-haired one added, amused. “I’m William.” He seemed to have a sunny disposition, his jaw also freshly shaved, hair tied back as he ate amiably. In contrast, Tovar ate in silence and you noticed a wicked-looking scar arching over his left eye. He glanced around as he chewed, as if worrying someone might remove his food at any moment.

You introduced yourself. “Thank you both for helping. Yesterday, against the Tao Tei.”

Tovar grunted in response. William smiled lopsidedly, his manner affable and relaxed. “You’re welcome.”

******

After that, you didn’t see much of the Westerners. Every day it seemed the weaponsmiths came up with new methods to keep the vicious Tao Tei at bay, and you immersed yourself in learning, as usual, between visits to your mother in the secluded gardens within the widest part of The Wall. She was in good spirits for once, letting you help her eat, laughing at your descriptions of the stinky Europeans.

When you left her, you stopped by the armoury to change your daggers. The ones you’d been using for a few days would be sharpened by the boys drafted there. No one could afford a blunt weapon when every moment the Tao Tei seemed to be evolving; everyone needed to be as sharp as their blades.

Yours were useful in targeting the eyes, you’d trained hard and your aim was often true.

You stopped dead at the sight of Tovar in the armoury, hefting an axe as if testing the weight. You must have made some sound, because he turned, brown gaze raking over you suspiciously. He did everything suspiciously, it seemed.

“Where’s William?” you asked, to cover the fact that you’d started to admire his broad form in the leather armour.

Tovar scoffed. “You like him, do you?”

You shrugged. “Everyone likes him. He’s friendly.”

Turning the huge axe in his hands, Tovar scowled. “And handsome, I guess you’re going to say next.”

You weighed your words carefully.

Yes, William was easy on the eye, and several of your fellow soldiers had said so. You suspected even Commander Lin Mae had a crush, though she held her cards close to her chest like any good military-bred woman. But your dreams had been filled with soulful brown eyes and what the touch of scarred hands might feel like. How it would sound to have Spanish murmured in your ear in the darkness.

“He is pleasant to look at,” you said at length.

Tovar looked away, muttering something, and for a second before he’d turned, you thought you saw a flicker of sadness pass over his stocky features, but the light in the armoury wasn’t good enough to tell.

You left him to his grumpiness.

****

You woke with a start at the sound of the horn blasting - an attack was on its way.

Dressing deftly with practiced speed, you hurried up to the wall to see several lines of soldiers already in place. Other women and men from your unit joined you in full armour. A few feet away, William and Tovar were also fully armoured up, grim expressions on their faces. Unlike you, they’d only faced Tao Tei once before in their lives, and although they’d proved themselves formidable, it only took one mistake, one slip in a pool of blood, one misjudged dagger throw, and a warrior could be cut down in an instant.

The crane unit deployed as the creatures climbed over each other, jaws snapping, eyes blinking red and gold in the half-light of early morning, the lit torches only adding to the atmosphere of the scene unfolding.

As usual, Ballard hid behind a pillar, only half his face visible.

Then two creatures breached the top of the gargantuan wall, and all hell broke loose.

You swung your swords as best as you could, holding the line with your unit, the armour of the soldiers atop the wall a cacophony of colour and reflecting light as the fighting raged.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tovar and William battling the second, hulking Tao Tei, jaws stringy with saliva, reptilian eyes wild, claws scrabbling. Tovar caught it in the belly with an axe as William scored an arrow in its left eye, and the scaly beast crashed to the floor in a pool of blood, twitching.

You turned back to your own fray as lightning crackled, luminescent and fierce. Thunder followed, the sound splitting the pitch black blanket of the sky. The remaining Tao Tei on the wall tossed its head in fury, its jaws snapping and catching the soldier in front of you by the spear, hurling them over your head, knocking out William, whose bow went hurtling away across the stones.

Frozen in fear, you stood rooted to the spot as the Tao Tei opened its jaws, and you stared into the yawning darkness of its mouth, towards certain death.

The scream of an axe flying through the air broke the spell and just in time, you ducked as the spinning blade sliced through the jaw of the hulking green beast, throwing it off its stride. Undeterred, it reached out a huge claw, dripping with the thick blood of your comrades, and swiped-

The air was knocked out of you, and your back hit stone, cushioned by your thick armoured doublet.

Tovar stared down at you, breathing hard. “Eager for death, querida?”

Embarrassed both because you were caught like a deer in headlights, and because you’d reacted instantly to the feel of his hard body pressed intimately to yours, you shoved him off. “I can look after myself.”

Tovar lay on the stone for a second, staring at you, and then shook his head, standing. “Obviously.”

You struggled to get your head back in the game after that, but managed to use your throwing knives to cut out the sight in one of the Tao Tei’s unblinking eyes, internally sighing in relief that you weren’t rendered totally useless in combat.

****

It took a long time to cut up and drag away the two dead Tao Tei. Sometimes, they were tossed over the wall, but this time, Strategist Wang had deemed that too big a risk before the bricks broken today were repaired.

You headed to the courtyard garden to lick your wounds - mainly your pride, thankfully - and stopped short, seeing Tovar sitting on the edge of the fountain, washing his face.

He looked up at your approach and then looked away, a scowl crossing his darkly handsome face. Come to think of it, you’d never seen him smile.

You sat a polite distance away, decided that washing might feel good, and scooped up water.

As you looked into the reflective surface, your face as well as Tovar’s looked back at you. His hair curled damply, the scar across his eye pale in the morning light, his mouth set into a grim line.

“What I said earlier,” you began.

Tovar looked away. Forget it, si?”

You couldn’t forget the look on his face. The one that said he’d handled a lot of rejection and now expected it, handled it with standoffishness and grumpiness. He stood up, his shoulders set, and turned away.

“William is pleasant to look at,” you ground out, “but I prefer looking at you.”

Tovar stood stock still, so you knew he’d heard you.

“Do not make fun, querida,” he said, very softly, but his words carried to you in that husky voice.

“I’m not.”

He turned back to face you very slowly, his face set in a serious expression, and then a slow smile slid over his face, lighting it up, and for a moment he was so handsome, he stole your breath.

****

From then on, whenever you saw each other, you and Tovar would sneak little glances. Sometimes if you sat together at the long dinner tables, his thigh would touch yours, and your heart would thunder in your chest.

For his part, Tovar seemed much happier to be within the confines of the Great Wall, joining in the combat drills and showing some of the patrol units his axe throws.

Life continued, without any attacks from the Tao Tei, for some time. Spring started to bloom all around, and the three large cherry blossom trees in the garden courtyard sprouted perfect, pale pink flowers.

The morning after they bloomed, you found one waiting for you, tucked into the door handle of your small quarters. And another, the day after that, until the blooms dropped to the ground and were swept away.

“Thank you,” you murmured to him at dinner.

“De nada,” he smiled, looking at you with those dark eyes, and you wondered what he wanted. What his endgame was. All you knew was that when he looked at you, you melted inside, and each little touch stoked the flames, until you’d reached fever pitch.

You finished your food, went to stand, and he touched your arm. “Meet with me, si? In the courtyard. When the moon is high.”

You nodded shakily, your heart somersaulting, ready for your little routine of smiles and heated glances to move to the next level.

******

The full moon hung waxy and heavy in the sky, surrounded by pinprick stars, when you entered the courtyard on stealthy feet. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness and you made out Tovar’s silhouette under the cherry blossom trees, now entirely green and leafy.

He tipped his chin in silent greeting as you crossed to him, standing awkwardly for a second, unsure what to do, how to act.

Fantasizing about him covering you in the night, his deep voice murmuring to you in Spanish, was very different to being only inches away, breathing in the scent of his rosemary soap and just a hint of the lemon oil he cleaned his armour with.

“Querida,” he whispered. “You want this, no?”

The edge of trepidation in his tone made your decision for you, and you closed the distance. Tovar cupped your face in his gentle, scarred hands, and dipped his head to kiss you. You met his lips eagerly, if a little clumsily, and drunk in his little groan as your tongues danced. He tasted of spice and tea, addictive, and you slid a hand up his neck into the silky mass of his dark hair, threading your fingers through the strands.

Tovar was not the first man you’d kissed, but the incendiary feelings this kiss incited in you made the others pale into insignificance.

He slid his arms around you and pulled you close, aligning your body with his, and you thrilled to the feel of the evidence of his desire hot and heavy against your belly.

You sucked in a breath when Tovar broke the kiss, his dark gaze searching yours. “You truly do not fear me, little one?”

“I never have. Should I?”

“Never, mi corazón,” he whispered. “I should fear you. What you could do to my…. Old, scarred heart.” He tipped your chin up with a gentle hand. “Do not give me hope where there is none, si?”

“But there is.” Sweet man, you thought, pulling him in for another kiss. “Come…. Back to my quarters?”

He nodded silently, and you felt something drop in your stomach, as if things were about to change irrevocably.

You led him by the hand up the steps to the main gatehouse, and through the silent corridors to your quarters. The sound of the key in lock seemed loud, but then Tovar shut the door behind you, and he dominated the space in his black tunic, leathers and breeches.

Unsaid words littered the space between your bodies, the only light a faint glow from the wall sconce above your tiny desk.

Anticipation pooled in your belly, warring with nerves. “I.. I’ve never done this before-” Twenty-four summers old you might be, but when you lived in a cold, stone fortress, with the constant threat of a Tao Tei attack and cared for your mother, there wasn’t much time for romance.

“We will start slow, then.” Tovar closed the gap between you and again cupped your face in his hands, kissing you again, seducing you by tiny increments. You felt your body begin to relax as the kiss turned leisurely, and your hands slid up the wall of his chest, his heart beating a ragged tattoo under your palm.

His armoured leather spread warm and soft under your hands, but you wanted more. His breathing hitched when you started to unlace the tunic fastenings, but he slid his hands down to your hips, letting you have your way.

Outside, an owl hooted in the distance. Your own heart thundered in your ears, desire making your blood feel syrupy, as you pushed the leather off his shoulders, only the worn, soft fabric of his black shirt underneath. You met Tovar’s gaze and found something dark and hot and yours in his tea-dark eyes, and it made you greedy, so you gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Tovar helped you, lifting his arms and bending, and you’d seen what his arms and hands could do with an axe, so his gentleness both humbled and aroused you.

The shirt fell to the floor on his armour, and oh God, he was big and broad and muscled. Fascinated, you spread your hands over his chest, your skin pale compared to his golden tan, mapping the myriad scars over his chest. A wicked one ran from one nipple down to the side of his hip, the end white with age, and, overcome with how painful it must have been, you bent and pressed your lips to it.

He was silent, breathing ragged, as you did the same for all the scars you could see, tracing them with first your fingers and then your lips, learning the feel and taste and smell of him as his heart thundered, hands clenched on your hips.

A sound that might have been pleasure or pain escaped his lips, and you looked up, meeting his gaze, seeing fire there. “Enough,” he bit off, and he lifted you off your feet and carried you to the bed, laying you down as gently as if you were the most precious of jewels, and in the next breath he covered you, and your arms wound around him.

You spread your palms over his back greedily, drinking him in by touch, and he lowered his mouth to yours, starting the whole process anew. Kissing you until that fluttering starting in your belly again, until you were arching your hips to get closer to him, to feel more of the hard, hot length of him against you.

Curious, and eager, you snuck a hand between your bodies to cup him through his breeches, and a muttered slew of Spanish passed his lips as he bucked into your palm, then grabbed your wrist.

“Next time, perhaps. It has been too long for me, comprende?”

He guided your hands upwards, set them on the pillows above your head. “I want to focus on you.”

And wow, that made want and need clutch at you, deep inside.

Tovar undressed you slowly, and you watched his scarred hands work in the low light from the flickering sconce flame, peeling back each layer of your robes. “Hermosa,” he whispered reverently, and then, as if remembering you didn’t speak Spanish, he added, the butterfly wings of his breath warm against your skin, “Beautiful.”

His words warmed you inside out, and then he touched his mouth to your skin and all thoughts left your head.

Aside from a handful of nervous fumbles in the armoury, right now was the closest to sex you'd ever been. As Tovar drank you in, his tongue learning the flavour of your nipples, you broke the invisible hold he'd put on your wrists and touched him, raking your fingers through his hair and smoothing your palms over the golden skin of his broad back.

He mumbled what you guessed was praise in Spanish as he licked and kissed endlessly. You felt him hard and unyielding against your thigh, but he seemed uncaring of his own needs, existing, for now, purely for your pleasure.Time ceased to exist and your world narrowed to each lick of his warm tongue, each stroke of his big, scarred hands, over your skin.

“What did I do to deserve such beauty?” he mused, moving down to feather kisses on your stomach.

“You… bathed,” you muttered, completely at ease with him, and he coughed out a surprised laugh.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life under water, querida, if this is my reward.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but then he spread your legs and put his mouth on you, and nothing else mattered, save the curl of his tongue where you were damp and ready, the glide of his lips on your inner thighs, then the tickle of his facial scruff across your clit, the press of his fingers inside you. You clenched your muscles around his digits and felt him sigh against you, pleasure and anticipation wrapped up inside that single breath, and you arched into his face, chasing the sweet release that every flick of his tongue promised.

Your thighs trembled as Tovar gentled the pace, then sped up again, keeping you on the edge of your climax. This was nothing like what you’d experienced at your own hand, you were bent to his will, control out of your hands-

He licked a long strip over your with the flat of his tongue and you came with a keening cry, turning your face into the pillow to keep from making a sound. The walls might be stone here, but it was better not to take chances.

Tovar propped himself up on his elbows, and the pleased look on his face made your stomach flutter anew.

“Now, I think you are ready, hermosa.”

He disrobed quickly, and you watched every inch of tanned skin revealed in the half-light from the wall sconce. The sliver of moonlight through your window kissed the curve of his shoulder, the scar across his eye, and you had never seen anyone so beautiful.

You sighed with pleasure as he moved atop you again, gloriously naked, and his skin was smooth and hot, and instinctually, you shifted and wrapped your legs around his hips. Tovar growled into the curve of your neck and positioned himself, and your inner muscles clenched greedily in breathless anticipation of this, the first time having a man inside you.

“I will be gentle,” he promised, and you nodded, mumbling his name, not sure what you wanted, but just knowing you needed-

The hot press of him inside you kindled another fire deep in your belly. The head of him brushed the sensitive bead at your apex and you arched desperately -

The pain sliced through you, and Tovar dropped his forehead to yours, going totally still inside you. You felt him trembling slightly, braced on his forearms, his dark eyes filled with concern.

“It’s..” A tear rolled down your cheek and he went to pull away. The fact this big, world-weary, grumpy, strong mercenary would stop, without a word from you, made your heart turn over, and you banded your arms around him.

The pain gave way to a feeling of fullness, and you experimentally clenched your inner muscles around him. Tovar bit off a string of curses in Spanish, shifting slightly, and the movement sent little licks of pleasure ricocheting inside you.

“Good?” he whispered against your lips.

“Good,” you agreed, breathing him in, tasting yourself on his mouth when he brushed a kiss over your lips, the breath shuddering out of him.

He moved slowly, seducing you again with his gentleness, capturing your little gasps of sensation with his mouth, until there was more pleasure than pain, and you needed to feel all of him. Testing, you lifted your hips, dragging him deeper, and he made that addictive growl again, his hips moving faster. You clenched your hands on his big shoulders, digging your heels into his thighs, urging him on.

“Carajo,” he cursed, his hips stuttering, and he thrust out and back in again, touching a spot inside you that crashed waves of pleasure through you, and you keened his name, pressing your face into his shoulder.

Tovar went still, eyes closing for a second, then pulled out, taking himself in hand and finishing across your stomach, his breath coming raggedly, before he collapsed beside you on the narrow bunk.

After a moment he turned on to his side and stroked damp strands of hair back from your face. “Querida.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“Darling.”

He dropped a kiss on your lips and then moved off the bunk, finding your bucket of water, refreshed each day, and soaking a cloth, wringing it out before gently cleaning off your stomach, then standing awkwardly, his gaze searching yours in the low light, questioning.

Your heartbeat settled. Tomorrow you would have to wake up with the sun, and train again, and fight for your life. Tomorrow you would have to decide what you wanted to do with this new thread between you and Tovar, the emotions that lightened your heart and swam in your head. But for now, it was night, and you wanted to push the Tao Tei and the fighting away, to not think about whether Tovar would one day want to leave the safety of the Wall.

So you crooked your finger and lifted up the blanket. “Stay.”

Relief crossed his dark, handsome features, and he did as you bid, gathering you close. You snuggled your cheek into his warm, scarred, solid chest, burrowed into his warmth, and, forgetting about everything except the sound of his heart beating, you dropped into sleep.

Thankyou so much to @restingnurseface for the company, read-throughs and encouagement.

Tagging people who might like this @bunnyart-blog @spacegayofficial @tiffdawg and my regular “whole shebang” taglist: @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @just-the-hiddles @littlemissthistle @palaiasaurus64 @adorkabeezle @myoxisbroken @nonsensicalobsessions please ask to be added or released!

#pero tovar x reader #tovar x reader #the great wall fic #pedro pascal fic #shameless smut #pedro pascal x reader #pwp

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