#and in my personal life it felt like there were seldom people who stood up for me other than myself

[pprodsuga]

(i'm the same anon that just sent an ask abt tides of regret hehe) i needed to send this in a second one cause i felt like it was too long lol. your sense of empathy is SEEPING through the words. i get the feeling that you have just have a good heart, idk :) your characters are so mature and thoughtful and also empathetic and it's so refreshing. i suppose i envy them a bit :')

this is singlehandedly the kindest thing a stranger has ever said to me…i’ve been reflecting a lot about the friendships i maintain and these past few weeks felt like a test, of sorts. reading this restored a lot of confidence i had in myself and i’m incredibly humbled and thankful that you think this of me.

there’s always a part of me in every story and every character i write. i’m so happy to know the enha i wrote resonated with you. empathy is such a fickle thing and i’m under the impression that i’ll always try to be the best person i can be by doing what’s right and good. i believe you can be that way too, if you wish.

you are so beautiful. know that.

[moonlight1110]

Fanboy

Ghost x p⋆rnstar!reader ; roomates!au

Tags: afab!reader, piv, smut, vaginal sex, mentions of masturbation, porn, and sex work, mirror kink kinda, far from canon simon, i write with badjhur's voice in my ear, roomates to...?, not so secret life, simon has a little crush

Notes: I don't know how onlyfans works 🧍

Simon was a man who liked to keep to himself, didn't really see a point in socializing with the people around him, he could make do with himself after all, there was no point in dragging other people into the mix. He liked his privacy and that was clear even for the people around him.

However, the one place he felt like he was forced to socialize was the place he hoped would've given him the privacy he needed, his apartment. Or more accurately, your shared apartment.

Simon was your roommate, a quiet and reserved man. He seldom held conversation, only ever indulging you in your little questions which ranged from how his day was going to what his plans were for the day. He didn't mind this small talk, even asking you some questions of his own, you were roommates after all, he didn't want to feel like he was living with a complete stranger.

He thought he didn't need to know more than you had already told him, you didn't pry into his personal life anyway so why would he do the same? And plus, he couldn't even be bothered to know more, ask deeper questions and look past what was on the surface... But when he came home earlier than he usually did and found the apartment to be silent, it made him wonder.

He looked around for a bit after setting his shoes down, finding it way too quiet for his liking. Before he knew it, he was walking to your room, hand ready to knock on your door to ask if you were in there just to check on you since he knew you were home way earlier than he was.

"Hey, are you in th-" He blinked for a moment, staring at your door like a deer in headlights when he heard it. His hand slowly pulled away from your door as he strained his ears, he needed to know if he was just hearing things.

"Fuck..." The sounds of your soft moans came from the other side of the door, filling his ears like a melody he'd never heard before. Simon felt like a pervert listening to you, he didn't mean to intrude but he was stuck there like his feet were planted in place right outside your door, unable to walk away after hearing your moans.

Before he could gather up enough energy for his brain to function again, his dick was already twitching in his pants, rock solid only from your voice. It made him groan, frowning as he looked down at the bulge that was growing as if it would make him any less turned on. He couldn't just jack off right outside your door even if he wanted to keep on listening to you anyway, it was too much.

As he stood outside your door, his thoughts mixing and scrambling together, he noticed your soft voice had stopped and he furrowed his brow at that, a little disappointed but he didn't move, desperate to calm his heart down so he could hear you from the other side of the door.

"Thank you... for watching..." your voice was a bit muffled through the door but your words were as clear as day. Simon's ears perked up as the gears in his head finally started working..

"So this is what you do for work, huh?" He chuckled to himself, narrowing his eyes at your door like he could somehow open it but he knew you were shuffling around in there to get everything organized so he decided it was time to walk away.

After that night, Simon saw you in a different light, a light he definitely didn't have before.

He started talking to you more, or so you noticed. On one side, it made you happy that Simon was "opening up" to you, but it was also a new feeling, he was a man of few words after all but your small chats slowly turned into deeper conversations, some even leading late into the night with how much you enjoyed each others company.

Meanwhile, Simon couldn't deny that there was something brewing, his curiosity about you definitely spiked but more than the countless nights he spent fucking his fist to the thought of those soft moans he heard some nights ago, he actually found himself genuinely enjoying your presence, especially when he found your profile on his new favorite app, onlyfans.

He only followed you, never paid for anyone else. he watched everything you put out, from the first to the latest video you posted, and he thanked what God was out there that you performed only by yourself.

Watching you became his nightly routine, he looked forward to being able to watch you before he slept, imagining what it would be like to touch you, help you feel even better than those toys you used. He began to memorize which toys you had and how you used them from how frequently he watched your content.

It was safe to say he had become enamored with you in every possible way, feeling a connection with you even if he didn't show it to you in person, he felt like he knew you.

One night, he came home in a particularly pissy mood, it was obvious work didn't go as well and he didn't talk to you when he entered through the door, only giving you a glance as he stomped to his room and closed the door with a small thud.

There were nights when he came home like this before, but after getting to know him the past few months you really started to get closer with him, you thought it'd be fine if you tried to talk to him this time around.

It was late into the evening when you walked to his door with a mug of his favorite tea in your hand. You hoped that he would be welcoming and while in the past you never really cared enough to do something like this, your new formed bond with him had you concerned about how he was doing.

"Simon?" You knocked on his door quietly, hoping he would let you in. Heavy footsteps approached the door and the slow creak made up for the silence earlier. Simon looked at you from the small crack in his door with a blank expression.

"D'ya need something?" He asked, it made you wonder a little how he sounded like he was out of breath, and of course you couldn't miss how he was clearly lacking a top. It was strange but you looked past it.

"No, I just came by to see how you were doing, I made you some tea" you gave him a small smile, extending the mug out. It made him scoff, his eyes glancing at the mug then back to you. "Thanks love, needed it" he chuckled and took the mug from your hands and giving it a sip.

"Is there anything else you need? I mean... You did look pretty upset earlier"

Your comment made him laugh, keeping his eyes on you as he opened his door wider. You couldn't miss the smirk dancing on his lips and you felt like his eyes were on every inch of you, towering over you like a beast.

"You wanna help me?" He crossed his arms, leaning against his doorframe. His eyes seemed to scan over you so intently it made you feel like you were shrinking under his gaze.

"I mean yeah... I know I never really did things like this in the past... But y'know" you shrugged, trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit. He hummed with your response, seeing it fair in a way.

"Cute" He scoffed, pushing himself off from his doorframe as he retreated back into his room, leaving you standing outside. "Y'coming in or what?" He turned back, looking at you with clear amusement, and although you couldn't tell from where you were standing, you could practically hear the smirk that was still plastered on his lips.

You stepped into his room without a word and you couldn't help but look around, it was the first time you had ever been in his room of course. He set the mug down on his nightstand before turning back to look at you, his eyes scanning you from top to bottom.

"Stand over here" He beckoned you over to him to stand in front of the mirror he had and silently, you walked over. He hummed, placing his hands on your shoulders as he stood behind you.

"You wanna help me feel better right?"

"That's the plan" You chuckled awkwardly, looking into his eyes from the mirror and it made him scoff. "Right..." His voice seemed to get lower, and so did his hands. "Work has just been... Shit, to say the least" He chuckled, his hands wandering down to your hips.

"And here you are, worried about me" He continued, nuzzling his into the side of your neck, all the while you had to watch this happen.

"Simon, what are you doing..." Your voice came out weaker than you had intended but could you really help it? Simon was pulling you back against him with your back now flat against his warm chest, planting kisses on your neck and you couldn't do anything but watch from the mirror.

"You know exactly what I'm doing, babe" He laughed against your skin, humming appreciatively as you wrapped his hands around your waist. "Do you even have any idea... The things you do to me, hm?" He mumbled, pulling away from your neck and focusing on you now, looking right into your eyes.

"What do you even mean..." You furrowed your brows and it made him scoff.

"You don't know how many nights I've spent... thinking of you" His voice was low now, turning more into a whisper while he began to slide his hands under your shirt to feel your skin.

"I know all about your little... videos, y'know"

You felt your world stop at that, everything seemed to go by slowly as a mix of confusion and embarrassment crept into your skin. "You..." Your felt your face getting hotter at the realization that Simon, your roommate, definitely knew of this little secret you tried to hide.

"I know, and let's just say that I've become... Somewhat of your biggest fan" He chuckled, returning to your neck as he caressed soft circles into your skin. "You watch my videos?" You asked and although the answer was obvious, the thought that your roommate, of all people, was watching you made you feel a little embarrassed.

"I do" He chuckled, pulling your closer and you couldn't help but gasp softly, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants rub against your ass. "Y'feel it don't you? How fuckin' bad I need you" He scoffed, rolling his hips into you with a low groan.

"Simon..." You whimpered, the mix of his hands and his dick feeling you made it impossible to stand still, and in front of the mirror, it was something that looked like it came out of a terribly scripted porn video.

He growled lowly, seemingly enjoying the way you said his name.

"Can I show you just how much I adore you, love? Prove to you that I'm your biggest fan?" He whispered, glancing into your eyes as he kissed your neck. Your words couldn't come out no matter how hard you wanted to reply, so you nodded.

Simon hummed, turning you around in his arms as he connected your lips. It was slow at first and he gave you time to adjust until you found your rhythm against his lips and it was like fireworks had gone off in Simon's mind.

He walked you to his bed, keeping the kiss intact as he pushed you on your back, your head against the pillows as he made space for himself between your legs. The kiss had turned hotter now, faster and more passionate as he pulled your shirt above your head.

"You have no fuckin' idea how long I've wanted you..." He growled, trailing his kisses to your down to the valley of your breasts as he reached behind you, fumbling with the hooks of your bra in a frenzy. Once he got that off, his lips immediately found your nipple, taking it into his mouth and rolling his tongue on it while he pinched the other.

"You're so beautiful..." He groaned against your skin as he let his free hand wander down to your shorts, slipping past the waistband and he wasted no time in pressing you through your panties. "Slow down..." You whispered breathlessly, overwhelmed with the sensations you were feeling simultaneously.

"How can I slow down when I've finally got you all to myself" He asked with a mean chuckle as he pulled away from your chest and trailed his kisses down your stomach. He made quick work of taking your shorts and underwear off and it was clear he didn't want to tease you, feeling like he'd already done that earlier when he was holding himself back from fucking you in front of his mirror.

"You look even more gorgeous in person, babe" He groaned, moving lower until his breath was on your pussy, and at this point you were starting to feel hotter.

"Pretty fuckin' pussy..." He muttered and before you knew it, your back was arching off the bed as his lips wrapped around your clit, his fingers teasing at your entrance as he closed his eyes, humming against your cunt as he sucked your clit between his lips.

He hooked his arms around your thighs, spreading them wide as he ran his tongue between your sensitive folds, muttering praises about good you tasted and how long he's waited for this moment. Your fingers tugged on his hair in a desperate attempt to make him slow down but it only seemed to encourage him further.

"Sorry baby, s'too much for you?" He chuckled sarcastically, looking at you through his lashes as he stuck his tongue flat between your folds, lapping up all he could with an appreciative hum against your pussy.

He sat up, licking his lips as he looked down at you, stroking your thighs lovingly like he didn't just deprive you of an orgasm. You glared at him as your chest heaved, silently cursing him.

"Awe, don't look at me like that, love" He laughed, his words were teasing and soft as he looked down at you, his thoughts running wild at the sight of your in front of him, he just couldn't believe it to be honest, no matter how real it felt.

"I need you" The lust in his voice was unmistakable now, looking down at you like you were his prey and he, the predator.

Simon backed up a bit, allowing himself to take his sweats off. "Fuck... Do y'see what you do to me, baby? Hm?" he chuckled, running one hand through his hair as the other stroked his cock, heavy and twitching in his fist.

"Simon... That's not gonna fit..." Your heart started to race when you saw how big his cock was in his hand, spreading his precum all over the length. It was intimidating.

"Don't gotta take all of it, love..." He chuckled, moving closer and between your legs again. He pressed the tip against your clit as he started to grind against your pussy, covering his dick in your slick with a satisfied hum as he caressed soft circles into your waist. "You're in control, you tell me when to stop" He leaned forward to catch your lips in his in a soft kiss.

His words reassured you, and although the thought of him inside you was intimidating, you couldn't deny that you also needed it, needed him.

"Okay... But let's take it slow..." You whispered, taking his face in your hands as you cupped his cheeks, feeling your chest swell in a mix of emotions. "Of course, love..." He nodded, smiling back softly and leaning back in to kiss you again and letting it linger for just a moment longer before he leaned back up, lining his tip with your entrance.

You held your breath, shutting your eyes tightly as you anticipated the stretch, but before it came, you felt Simon's hand gently take yours, intertwining your fingers together. This made you flutter your eyes open and when you did, Simon was looking down at you as his expression softened.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me, love..." He whispered, squeezing your hand in his much larger one before he slowly moved his hips, letting the tip stretch you out. It helped that Simon was holding your hand because you had something to dig your nails into aside from the sheets.

"Fuck- Simon!" You gasped, throwing your head against the pillows as you felt him stretch you open. "You're doin' so well, just a little more okay?" He groaned, finding himself closing his eyes as well. He pushed in a little more, inch by inch until he was completely seated inside you with a small thrust.

The stretch made you feel hot all over, your walls fluttered around him as you tried to catch your breath after holding it in for so long without even realizing it. Simon leaned down, setting his arms on either side of your head as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

"You're doin' so well... So well..." He whispered into your skin while his hands gently caressed your sides. You felt his heart beating against yours and it seemed to calm you down until your heart started to beat with his rhythm. He gave you time to adjust to his size, softly calming you down as he kissed your skin.

"M-move... Please" You whispered after some time had passed and the sting slowly disappeared. Simon nodded, keeping his head buried in your neck as he slowly retracted his hips, you felt his cock drag out of you and it made you whimper.

"Fuckin' hell, baby..." He moaned as he slowly thrusted back into you. You moaned softly, feeling so full with his cock slowly moving in and out of your now. It felt so different to your toys, it felt so much better.

The more he moved, the better it felt and your moans only encouraged him more. Your soft moans filled the room, absolutely engulfing Simon, your voice was like a drug and your voice was the reason he started to get so attached to you in the first place.

"You're so goddamn pretty..." He gave your shoulder a kiss before he leaned back up, groaning as he looked down at how his cock disappeared into you, your folds spread apart to accommodate for him. "And this pussy... Fuck" He groaned rolling your clit under his thumb now.

He started to get more confident now, moving his hips faster as he filled you over and over again. You were a mess under him and it only encouraged him more to keep on fucking you open on his dick.

"You have no idea..." He groaned, bottoming out inside you as he held your ankles on either side of him, "How much I've fucked my fist to the thought of you on my dick..." He spat, his grip on your ankles tightening slightly. You could tell he was losing himself, feeling how good you were taking him.

"Let me show you how big of a fan I actually am, baby..."

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Black Reader - The Bodyguard Part 7/8

Things are heating up😫

⚠️Warning ⚠️

Mentioning of violence

Summary - Reader is a popstars in trouble and Ruben is her new bodyguard, here to protect and help her find out who wants to hurt her. But what happens when the relationship between Reader and Ruben simply gets too personal?

Enjoy!

"So what are you gonna do?"

It was early, but not time to leave for the airport yet. You woke up to Ruben's warm chest against your cheek. He held you close, drawing lazy patterns on the hill of your shoulder.

"Face the music I guess."

"You're gonna confront your sister?"

"Yes and take responasbility for my life."

It felt like the most reasonable thing to do, however, the thought of facing your sister and Tyson again ached your stomach.

"Just know that whatever you choose to do, I'm here."

You tilted you head. Ruben was already looking at you, his eyes big and kind. You lay hand on his cheek, directing his face towards yours. You still had to get used to the feel of kissing another man. But compared to Tyson's, Ruben's kisses spread warmth throughout your chest.

Five hours later you left Brussels and returned home.

"You're early" Your sister said, as you and Ruben stepped through the door. Ironically she was seated on the couch, the same couch she and Tyson were getting freaky on whenever you weren't around.

"Where is Tyson?" You asked, as Ruben brought your bags upstairs.

"He's out. Left for a booking this morning."

"A modeling booking?"

"Exactly."

"Has he been getting alot of those whilst I was gone?"

"A few, why?" You sister mimicked the way you were looking at her with furrowed brows.

"Mom is not well." You muttered.

"Oh Y/N." Your sister stood, walking over to give you a hug. "I told you not to go over there. She never meant for us to see her like that."

Her hug was comforting, you gave in, forgetting the fact that you were supposed to be angry with her, then again, she had no clue that you knew about her and Tyson.

"She will always be our mother." She said, pulling you back to wipe your tears. And just like that you were eight years old again, needing your big sister to wipe your tears.

"I've had some trouble with my credit card." You said. "I should probably go to the bank for that, right?"

"Sure. We'll go tomorrow since I have some meetings tod..."

"There's a rehearsal today."

"For your tour?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, a dance rehearsal for all the back up dancers, why?"

"I should probably go to that shouldn't I. To share my opinions on things, right?"

"Um...sure, but like I said I have some meetings to attend today, so if you...."

"It's okay, I can go by myself."

"By yourself?" You sister frowned. You seldom did anything without checking with her first, perhaps that should stop now.

"Ruben will be with me of course."

"Ruben?" Your sister initially looked to want to protest, but change her mind as he came back down the stairs. "Of course." She nodded. "Ruben will go with you."

"I'll call you if I need anything."

"Yes, please do, call me."

You looked to Ruben. "I'll just hop in the shower then I'm ready to go."

He nodded. "I'll notify Taylor to bring the car around."

"Thanks." You smiled, as well as brush his arm with yours on your way up the stairs.

Rehearsal was great. You had never paid attention to the people working around you. It had always been your sister calling the shots,  giving everybody directions. But without her everyone was forced to listen to you and they really listened.

"So the laser will be pointing from that camera and that camera." Your stage director, Alejandro, said.

"That camera?" You turned in that direction, pretending to hold a microphone to your lips.

"Yes and then you'll turn to the other camera before the lasers shoot down from the sealing."

"Why the lasers?" You frowned.

"For the finally? Isn't that you wanted?"

"Um, I'm not sure."

"Your sister made it clear that its what you wanted." He shrugged. "We can remove them if you like?"

"Um...no it's okay. Keep them."

You left rehearsal not knowing how to feel. The start of your tour was so soon and you needed your sister by your side, but how could you ever trust her when she's been lying to your face for God knew how long.

"Shall we get somthing to eat?" Ruben held the door open for you to climb into the car.

"No, I'm not hungry."

Taylor your chauffeur greeted you with a smile through the rare view mirror. A smile which you returned. Ruben stepped in to sit next to him. His face expressed concern as he turned back to look at you.

"Y/N, you have to eat somthing."

"I will, I just need to go to the bank first."

"The bank?" He frowned.

"Yes the bank. Taylor will you take me there?"

You arrived within ten minutes.

"I won't be long." You said, hoping that Ruben would let you go alone.

He didn't.

He held the door open for you to step out and together you made your way into the bank.

After a short wait, a bank representative named Emily greeted you and led you and Ruben to a private office. "I understand your concern, Y/ N" she said, sympathetically. "Let me pull up your account information and see what might be causing this issue."

As you watched Emily's fingers dance across the keyboard, a knot formed in her stomach. The seconds felt like an eternity until Emily's eyes widened in disbelief.

"I... I think I've found the problem," Emily said, her voice filled with astonishment. "It appears that all your money was recently transferred to a foreign account."

Your heart sank, and you exchanged a worried glance with Ruben. "What? How is that possible? I certainly didn't authorize any transfers like that."

Emily nodded in understanding. "I believe you, Y/N. However a signature was authorized electronically. Do you have your phone with you today?"

"Well yes, but no."

"No?"

"No, my phone, old phone, was stolen a couple of weeks ago."

"Stolen?" Emily's lowered her gaze, her eyes looking at you over her glasses.

"Yes. Oh my god what am I gonna do? This can't be happening."

Ruben reached for your hand underneath the table.

"The best thing I can do is freeze you account and make sure no money gets in or out." Emily said. "But I'm afraid the police will have to help you retrieve the stolen money."

You rushed out of the bank, Ruben at your heels.

"Y/N, everything is gonna be alright, you'll get the money back."

How do you know that Ruben? Everything I've earned throughout my entire career, my savings, my savings that my parents put in there for me. Gone, it's all gone. So don't tell me that everything is going to be alright because it isn't."

He pulled you into his embrace right there in the middle of the street,  for everybody to see. If paparazzi showed up now your life would really be over.

"I have to tell my sister." You said, breaking up the hug. "She'd want to know about this."

Ruben nodded. "Of course,  do you need to come with you?"

You shook your head. "No, Taylor will take me back."

Ruben looked conflicted, not wanting to part from you, however you had sent him to replce your computer. With your phone gone and bank account hacked, everything old had to go and everything knew would have to be fire proof and Ruben assured you that he could fix that.

"You went to the bank without me?"

After telling your sister what the bank lady said, you were suprised that this was her first reaction.

"Yes, well it was urgent."

"Y/N,  I told you that I would have gone with you tomorrow. Why would you do this?"

"Are you serious right now? All of my money is gone and all you care about is the fact that I went to the bank without you?"

Your sister's expression mellowed. "You're right." She stepped forward, bringing you in for another hug. This hug wasn't like the one this morning. It was stiff and cold. "Everything is gonna be alright, you'll get your money back."

"That's what Ruben said." You muttered. Your sister grimaced at the mentioning of his name.

"What?"

"I don't trust him." She said.

You chuckled. "You, of all people don't trust Ruben? You're the one that hired him, rember?"

"I know I did, but..."

"But what?" You frowned, because your sister was really not the one to preach about trust.

"Tyson told me that Ruben keeps giving him these looks, looks as if all he wants to do is bash his face in."

"Right." You muttered. Hearing Tyson's name leave your sisters mouth simply made you nauseous.

"I've noticed it too. He cracks his knuckles every time he sees him, Y/N."

"It doesn't matter because Ruben is not the problem here." You said.

"No? Then who is?" Your sister looked terrified.

"Dickonataor 3000."

Her shoulders rose and fell with your answer. "Y/N, don't you think..."

"I know that nerd has got my phone. He's the one messing with my account. We need to find a way to track him somehow. Ruben will find a way."

Your sister stared at you blankly for a minute, like she couldn't recognize the person standing before her. "Maybe you should go to bed? Today must have really sucked for you."

You nodded. "Yes, yes it did."

You needed sleep. Sleep was your friend.

As the moon cast a soft glow upon your bedroom, you nestled comfortably beneath the covers. However you were abruptly awakened by a gentle touch.

"Ruben?" You groaned.

"No baby, it's me."

Your eyes flung open.

"Tyson?"

His lips were on yours. "I heard you had a bad day, let me make it better."

Confused and half-asleep, you pushed him away, struggling to fully grasp the situation.

"Y/N, relax." he whispered, lust lacing his voice.

Startled and groggy, your sleep-addled brain attempted to process his words. "Tyson stop, I'm not in the mood." You pleaded, never ever would you be in the mood for him. Yet, his eyes burned with an unsettling determination.

Pushing aside your obvious feelings of unease, he continued to make advances, his body betraying the desperation of his desires.

"Tyson, get off!"

He wrestled you against the matress, tracing unwanted kisses up your neck.

"Tyson,  I said stop!"

He chuckled.  "What, don't you want me to fuck you?"

No, now get the fuck off me!" You shouted. The last words to leave your mouth before Ruben barged into your bedroom, his face a mask of fury. His voice thundered through the room, "Get off her! Right now!"

Caught off guard and blinded by his own desires, Tyson froze momentarily. But it was the fierceness in Ruben's eyes that eventually jolted him back to reality. However it was too late Ruben was already pulling him off you, dropping Tyson on the floor.

"Ruben wait, stop!"

There was no stopping him. Ruben's eyes were dark, his expression emotionless whilst he pounded his fists against Tyson face, cracking his nose, breaking his jaw.

"Oh my god,  Tyson!" Your sister emerged in the doorway, dressed in her nightrobe. She saw the two men grappling on the floor beneath your bed and started screaming hysterically.

"Please stop it, you'll kill him! Y/N, do something!"

"Ruben please." You pleaded, however his hands just kept smashing into Tyson's bloody face. There was no stopping him. Never had you seen Ruben so angry, so out of control.

"Ruben, please stop it." You cried and that seemed to do it.

He looked to you and then to his bloody knuckles. A low grunt left Tyson limb body that lay beneath him.

"Y/N, I'm so..."

You shook you head. Not wanting Ruben to come any closer to you. He looked both terrified and hurt by this.

"That's it. I'm calling the fucking police!" You sister said, storming out of the room in a tearful rage.

[kthecutest]

hi!:) can i req basketball-player!jo x fem!reader high school au! ; i feel like in high school he had a tiny fan base and i’m sure he looked super cool (&cute) while playing so maybe something about that lol (don’t actually have an idea hehehe) or like what it’s like being his gf (ofc him as a b-ball player) lol just take it from here pls ??

also thanks for writing my other req jo as bf!! so cute!!<33 i rly enjoyed it >_<

Yes of course! Sorry if I'm too late to answer this request, I couldn't grasp on a solid idea (╥ᆺ╥；) Not so sure if this went along with the lines of your request but I still hope you'll like it! ₍ᵔ•ᴗ•ᵔ₎

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

☄. *. ⋆The rose that glows ruby⍣ ೋ

Pairing ➳ Basketball-player!Jo x gn!reader Genre ➳ Pure Fluff ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ A/N ೃ⁀➷ A little detail on the title, ruby and the color red might seem the same but not exactly. Ruby is a jewel color which means it'll appear glossier and glow more than any other red shades. This makes it stand out among all red. Just a little explanation to some who might get confused haha!

You nudged your way through the vast horde, trying your best to block out the ear-piercing screams and squeals of sweaty figures, just to get a glimpse or two of ‘him’. Your eyes glossed, full of excitement, hope and out of all, love.

Jo and you weren’t exactly friends, far from lovers. A normal passerby would describe you two as a fan and idol kind of relation and it was logically right but you guys were rather more or less than just that single statement. You two seldom talked with words but the looks in both of your eyes tell a whole different story. It was as if a whole telepathic conversation was occurring right in the sparks and glosses that elicit from you and his eyes.

In contradictory to being a pro basketball-player and a popular boy in high school, Jo’s got a pretty chill personality and the atmosphere surrounding him was always so quiet and far from chaotic. He didn’t consider too much contact or conversation with any sorts of fan girls. Unlike the other top students who would use their status or appearance, to pick up girls, for their own satisfaction, he just lived his own life not bothering with any of such matters even when he had both status and appearance.

It wasn’t a surprise why he was such a hot topic among fan girls and even boys. In this era, the type of perfect but chill kinds of people always stood a special place in people’s hearts, as well as in yours. Not that you were all over his status or face, you’d definitely admit, he looked pretty cute considering his expertise in the basketball field. But it was his eyes that pulled your entire soul towards his direction. It’s true that he was hard to read considering his all-time poker face, but despite all that, his eyes told a story of a thousands.

But you knew you had absolutely no chance with him considering there’s a whole fanbase going after him. He would only pick the one rose that glows ruby among all red roses; and percentage of you being the ruby rose? 0.0000001%

You sighed, gripping onto the clear water bottle in your hand with an almost dejected look from all the overwhelming thoughts. You can’t help but to be an overthinker. That’s when you felt the huge cozy hand of a familiar someone, set still on your head. You looked up with a look of surprise to find a tall figure, the school basketball club’s signature shirt wrapped around his body, as he towered above you; his eyes holding an entire galaxy.

“..You should eat more.. You’re always so short and exhausted-looking.”, his words were in a mixture of a tease and concern, as he tugged onto the plastic bottle in your hands. Walking away calmly as he breaks open the bottle cap before you could even let out a single response. Your reply was nowhere to be found, as you stood there shocked; you noticed his ears reddening, shading into the color of the spring sakuras. As your head is disconnecting and reconnecting in several pieces, you let out a slight mumble, only loud enough for a single you to hear;

“..Maybe I do have a chance to be the rose that glows ruby..”

[cynthia39100]

@themerlinlibrary August Writing Challenge

Prompt 9: alone (Definitely too late to post...)

Arthur-centric, canon compliant.

Just letting him speak some of my frustration toward season 5.

AO3

------------------------

Arthur’s reign had proceeded into the fourth year. The round table system ran smoothly and the number of knights climbed fast. Arthur had a beautiful wife whom the people adored. He had a loyal friend who always stood by him. He had trusted knights who were like brothers to him. Advisors who had despised him gradually came to respect his opinions. The people of Camelot always greeted him with friendly smiles. 

Arthur should feel proud and fulfilled, yet more often than not what he felt was loneliness. 

People respected him more and more as king, and in turn, talked to him less and less as a normal man. He still went to the tavern with his knights, but it didn’t feel the same anymore. They didn’t fear him, just acted with polite respect. Only Gwaine would talk to him normally, but that too became rarer. Maybe he was cautioned by other knights. 

He and Gwen seemed to grow distant ever since they were married. Both were too busy fulfilling their duty, especially Gwen who needed to try so much harder to act like a queen. She seldom confessed to him about her struggle, and Arthur didn’t want to burden her more with his problems either. 

Merlin…… He acted more like a proper servant recently, and Arthur never felt more alone. Merlin had always been secretive, which Arthur had long given up on changing. Recently though, he didn’t even talk to Arthur about anything anymore, whether it was a silly joke or a boring gossip. Except, well, when Arthur went on a rescue mission or so much as going on a patrol. Arthur once valued Merlin’s advice and counsel, but all he said to Arthur now is “ Don’t you think it’s too dangerous?” 

He missed his friends.

He missed the days when Merlin would silently pack their travel bag for an unofficial rescue quest. He missed the days when he could sneak out of the castle just to fight for an outlying village with his friends. 

Maybe it was naive and childish. He seemed to be the only person who refused to grow up. Other people learned that the life of a king was valued more than others. They learned that risking Camelot’s army for a conquered kingdom wasn’t a good idea. 

Before, at least Morgana would encourage him to stand up to his father. Gwen would praise him for being kind to his people. Merlin would assure him that being merciful was a strength. He would say that Arthur would become a good and just king. 

Now, Merlin told him to abandon his fellow knights at Morgana’s hand. Gwen somehow thought he would risk his life for a long due revenge rather than rescuing an important ally. It was like they didn’t know him anymore. Arthur wasn’t sure if he knew them that well himself. 

Though, when he sat outside the Disir’s cave and listened to Merlin’s description of the sacred place, Arthur seemed to grasp a little more of Merlin’s mysterious self. He could even see a faint smile on Merlin’s face. He was quite pleased, even though he couldn’t feel anything Merlin described. 

It didn’t last long, however, once the subject turned into magic. He kept dodging the questions, and when he finally looked into Arthur’s eyes and answered, it was a blatant lie. 

Arthur knew Merlin had many secrets. He was quite used to Merlin’s mystery at this point. At least when Arthur genuinely asked for advice, Merlin was never afraid to utter his true opinion. 

Arthur stared into the fire, wondering what decision should he make. He wondered if Uther had been right all along. A king could only rule alone. Even if he didn’t choose to, in the end, it wouldn’t matter.

[maxemilianverstappen]

Its so funny how this person has Nikis name in their blog handle but I got to personally meet Niki some years ago and he was one of the nicest people I have ever seen in the paddock. Like he took his time talking with everyone and it never felt like he was the celeb me and my father were the fans no it was rather like he was respecting us as much as we were respecting him. And I can guarantee you he would hate how social media has become with everyone just hating each other. He would hate seeing Max fans bashing Lewis and Lewis fans bashing Max. This is just not what Niki stood for

You are so lucky to have met a legend like that!!

Niki Lauda would absolutely be disgusted with the way many of the fans present their arguments.

Look, we all think quite differently about who we like and don't like, wrong or correct or misinformed. The reason I have blocked 600+ people on this hellsite and seldom go onto Twitter is people really don't know how to discuss shit.

Like, you remain civil, you use neutral language, but these people come onto your posts and reblog them with such vile shit that, it is almost impossible to talk to them.

Using all kinds of racist/xenophobic/bodyshaming/misogynistic/misandric shit against the person you are having a "discussion" with while defending your blorbo and the ppl belonging to your side and claiming to be an advocate against all the shit you see fit to heap upon another person is... I don't know, hypocritical? Nasty? Vile? You can choose a similar word from the Thesaurus.

It is funny.

We are saying that people have to respect each other on live TV that has a viewership of sth between 1-2 millions just in their home country, stay as neutral as their biased asses can, never forget that they have the power to instigate and fester more hate or more positivity if they choose so. But these people come onto us and say practically vile shit (saying we deserve to be called as such) and call a person's literal human right as sth that can be taken away from him (because they think he doesn't deserve his rights) or sth that can be overlooked and ridiculed and dragged across the ground by likening him to some nasty pig that's killing and oppressing people.

Are these ppl really that devoid of any sanity at all? Or do they see him and us as subhumans like some fascist fucks?

How can they expect us to show them any respect? (I am appalled at how maturely and nicely my mutuals answer their vile anons because they don't deserve zilch) They say we don't respect them while their lot literally say they want to kill/strangle/maim/rape us? Do they think these are jokes while they are still hung up on a word Max uttered? What about the shit they are calling us?

Ewwwww.... I really can't... I really don't understand these mentally ill people who choose to spend their precious time on the social media with spewing horrific things at whoever instead of trying to get better and live a better life.

Such fucked up mind sets and a pitiful existence solely based on hate.

Life is short, idiot. Go touch some grass.

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man.

              ~~~~We might still be in love, if you were a better man. ~~~~

Taehyung x OC 

Rating 18 +

Angst. 

Implied Infidelity in the past. 

Chapter 1 ~ Walk out the first time. 

"Are you okay?" My mother's soft voice came from behind me and i panicked, hurriedly swiping at the tears that were streaking down my face. Heart pounding, I grabbed a bunch of tissues from the dresser, patting my face down hurriedly , making sure to keep my back to her. 

"I'm fine, Mom." I said , voice surprisingly steady as I turned around to smile weakly at her. She stood near the doorway, a petite woman of fifty with greying hair and too many wrinkles. 

I thought she looked older than she was and i knew I had a part to play in that. Sighing, I tried not to cry more, moving to gently take my son out of her arms. 

He was four years old, fast asleep and smiling sweetly in his slumber. He had downy black hair, feather soft and warm brown eyes. He looked incredibly like his father, the resemblance stunning even though he was so young. I stared at him some more, laying him down on the bed and brushing the hair off his face. 

"Are you sure there is no mistake? Taehyung ssi wouldn't hurt us like this..." My mother said, sounding broken and I felt a pang of sympathy. But also annoyance. 

Us. 

Us....like she had an equal share in the hurt I was feeling.

 I was the one getting a  divorce but my mother made it sound like it was personal to her as well. Like somehow, the fact that she now had to meet her friends and tell them that her daughter was divorced could compare to the pain I was feeling. To the sheer anguish that was filling me.

To be fair though, my mother had loved Taehyung very much. Her favorite son-in-law . My sister's husband had been a mean drunkard who had brought a lot of misery to our family. Taehyung by contrast had been a loving, filial son in law. He had cared deeply for my parents, paid for my father's funeral ( even though the man itself was nothing more than a drunk , cheating fool who had abandoned us )  and he had been the most kind man . 

I swallowed. 

Maybe , you should have forgiven him. Maybe , you shouldn't have divorced him . So, he slept with another woman. Fine.  It was one night... just one night. you should have gotten over it! Was it worth it to spend all these countless nights alone? To break your mother's heart a thousand times over? 

 The funny thing was, i had forgiven him. Maybe right after I had found out. He had stood there, looking shell-shocked and horrified and his eyes had begged me for forgiveness and my heart had cracked , the way it always did whenever I saw him in distress. And when he had looked me in the eye and said, "  I’m sorry,  Jang mi..." I had forgiven him right then and there.

 But it was the forgetting that was hard. The fear that it would happen again. The fear that somehow, I was the reason he strayed. And that kind of fear can be debilitating. For the first three weeks, I'd tried to pretend it hadn't happened. I had tried hard to see him the way I had always seen him but it had been impossible. everytime I saw him, my heart had broken anew. It had been hard but I had to accept that things would never be the same. That I would forever look at him and remember what he’d done. That I would forever wonder if he would do it again. 

So we had done the wise thing. 

At first a break.

 A few days apart to get our head on straight.  Then I’d found a job and I had to move closer to the office to make the commute easy. And then suddenly, I wasn’t seeing him even during the weekends , to spend time as family for our son’s sake. And just like that , a whole year had passed and we  were separated. Only meeting to hand Hoshi over to each other. 

"I'm sorry mother." I said softly. I knew that she blamed me, a whole lot for the separation. 

People with children  didn't leave each other over infidelity in my country. You hit your husband, denied him from your bed maybe but you didn't break up a family over one night of bad decisions. You just didn't .

But for me, it was beyond the act. It was the broken trust, the shock of knowing that some other woman had given him something I couldn't, the fact that he had even wanted it from another woman had been enough for me to crumble on the inside.  

But, none of it mattered now. 

He wanted a divorce. Officially. Wanted to end it for real. 

It was jarring, how badly it shook me. I felt unaccountably lost and confused and disoriented. I couldn't imagine not being Taehyung’s wife , i realized with a stunning sense of self realization.

 Call me irrational, but apparently, I couldn't stop thinking of him as my husband , even after two years. Soon he wouldn't be my husband. 

He would be  my ex -husband. 

i hated that word. 

It had such a plethora of negative connotations to it. When you hear it , you just brace yourself for unpleasantness.

 Because it is unpleasant. A marriage ending, a family breaking, feelings hurt , hearts shattered,  angry words tossed...its all a very unpleasant experience for everyone involved. 

An ex husband was seldom a harbinger of happiness, more often a reminder of choices gone wrong, regrets and wasted time. and I didn’t want to associate Taehyung with a word like that.

Taehyung who was still the kindest, warmest human being I knew. The best father in the world. 

I felt like someone had sucked all the strength out of me.

I didn’t really want to think about the call I’d gotten from Taehyung last night. An appointment with a divorce lawyer.  It had been followed by an apology because apparently, someone in the law firm had let the info leak. And now it was all over the sleazy tabloids that fed on people’s misery. 

It was impossible to escape it too, Taehyung was famous. An idol. And actor. The country's sweetheart. And he was the epitome of perfection. The beautiful, talented actor with an impeccable record of well behavior. 

I knew that literally everyone on the planet thought he was a literal angel. 

 I remembered how much , by contrast, I had been hated when I'd married him.

I could just imagine how much more it would all be this time around. And i wondered if it bothered Taehyung too. Did he perhaps wish he’d never met me

? 

It had been sheer luck that we had met.... 

In fact, if Jimin's  car hadn't broken down right outside our home on that cold December night, I wouldn't have even met Taehyung. A great cosmic shift, somewhere some butterfly flapped its wing a certain way and suddenly, Jimin’s car ran over a thumbtack and his phone was dead so while he tried to fix the damage , Taehyung  just had to knock on our home and I had been the one to open it. 

Boom. That was it. Love at first sight. 

 I had been a high school kid and he had been barely nineteen. Fresh faced and cheerful , the struggling idol from a small company. He hadn't been surrounded by fans or chased by saesangs. He hadn't had security tailing him. No daesangs, BBMAs, or acting awards. No blockbuster movies to his credit , no chart-bursting songs either . 

And I had fallen in love with that version of him. 

The hardworking, talented young man who worked twice as hard as anyone around him. 

 That's right. You've loved him for fifteen years.  So it's understandable that you're upset. Now, maybe you can move on too. Go on a few of those blind dates that Jiyoung is always setting you up on. Go live your life instead of being a zombie. Get a hair cut. Dye your hair red. Do something to get your life in order. 

"I still find it hard to believe that he would want a divorce. Jangmi yah... did you tell him you forgave him? Tell him you wanted to try again..." My mother said again and the distress in her voice was equal parts heartbreaking and exasperating. 

"Mother, I don't want to try again . We aren't married anymore. It's over, whatever it was between us. " 

 Whatever it was. 

How cruel, to have all that love, all that affection  reduced to a phrase like that. 

What a pity. 

"But what about Hoshi? He needs his father..." My mother cried out and I willed myself not to snap. She means well, I thought miserably. 

"He has a father. Taehyung is an excellent father and you know that. Don’t start that again.” 

My mother sighed.

"I still feel that this wouldn’t happen if you tried a little bit. He’s a good boy. Such a good boy and you could never do anyone better. Why are you so full of pride, Jangmi... so prideful...you should be a little humble. Think of the kind of man he is...where would you find a man like that ? And moreover .... Taehyung loves you. i know he does." My mother said stubbornly. 

I sighed, feeling my fingers shake from the effort not to scream. I wasn’t strong enough to have this conversation with her. Not now. Possibly never. Taehyung did  love me. Had never made any effort to hide it. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t. 

And I wanted to yell at my mother she was at least partially to blame for me walking out on Taehyung. 

My father had left us for another woman , when I was twelve. I had seen the toll it had taken on my mother and I just knew that I would never let a man do that to me. My mother had later confided in me that it wasn’t the first time. He had done it before. A lot of times. And my mother had always forgiven him. Let him back into our lives. 

And one night, drunk on soju she had confided between hiccups, ‘ I wish I’d walked out the first time.” 

And that had stuck with me. 

Walk out the first time. 

If he cheats on you , walk out the first time. Don’t stick around waiting for him to do it to you again. Walk out the first time. 

 And so I had. 

“ Should I talk to him? Tell him you’ve changed your mind? “ My mother began and I felt my patience snap.

“No!! Could you just, for the love of God, stay out of this, ma? It’s over. Our marriage is over and it has been over for a long time. A piece of paper doesn’t really change that, does it? Its not my fault you can’t get over it but that’s a you problem. And you need to fix it yourself.  “ I shouted. 

My mother immediately recoiled, eyes shuttering down. 

“Of course. You know the best. Who cares how anyone else feels, right, Jang Mi? You always know best.” She said softly, and I exhaled, shaken. There it was. The guilt trip. It was never ending. 

Please... I just need to go now.” I moved to grab my bag, :” I need to go get ready for the meeting with the lawyers tomorrow. You can keep Hoshi with you tonight.  I’ll come pick him up after I’m done and then I’ll drop him off at his father’s place.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With Taehyung and I, our break up hadn’t been terrible. 

It hadn’t been terrible because our own penchant for being terrible had always been very minimal. We didn’t do swearing or fights or threats and it always annoyed our friends that we got along so well. That it was so easy for us to forgive and move on with each other . That we were the one couple who didn’t hold grudges or bring up past mistakes. 

Which is why, when we did break up, none of our friends had tried to change our minds over it. They had accepted it rather calmly, shocked at first because it was so out of the blue but not opposed to the idea itself . They just trusted us to know the right thing to do because we were easily the most mature , the most level headed couple in the entire group. We were usually the sounding boards , the voice of reason in whatever petty conflict our friends were involved in . 

So when it was us, needling a little advice, a little guidance, our friends had been woefully ill equipped to help. They had merely hummed and nodded and empathized. Maybe that was another reason I’d left. I hadn’t considered the alternative. No one had asked me to consider the alternative. 

Our friends had watched us drift apart watched us break up, but they hadn’t really asked us  why.  

Because if something had caused Kim Taehyung and Jang Mi to break up, man, that must’ve been a really huge issue. 

So the break up had been amicable. Gradual and slow but mostly amicable, eased by our mutual love for our son. We wanted him happy and he was happy when we were happy. So we put on a front, laughed and joked in front of him and let him have some semblance of normalcy in his life. 

It wasn’t easy. 

From him,  it had been nothing but a mess of   heated glances, touches laced with intent and eyes begging forgiveness . every gaze of his was a silent scream for a second chance that I was not at all ready to give. 

Because for me, the raw hurt and anger and frustration that bubbled up every time I saw him , it had nowhere to go. It stayed churning in my gut, made everything bitter and unpalatable and I wanted to hurt him for hurting me. How could I think of a second chance when the hurt from the first, was still so fresh, an open wound festering. 

Self esteem in tatters, I had hated him fiercely. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting was at his company, and I arrived at nine in the morning, with a few more minutes to spare.  I knew the place like the back of my hand, was here at least  once a week either to pick or drop Hoshi off and I knew that the conference room in the third floor was sound proof and cut off from the rest of the building for extra privacy. 

Which was a little too late because I’d found two tabloid newspapers waiting outside my apartment this morning. 

I opened the door carefully, surprised to see Taehyung sitting in one of the chairs, bent over a sheaf of paper on the table and next to him a leggy girl in a small skirt hovered, fingers resting lightly on his shoulder, bent at the optimum angle to show him her curves. 

I sighed, looking away.

It was way too early for this. 

“Mia!” Taehyung’s voice made me look up, and I watched as he stood up, pushing the chair away and moving to me . He was easily the most good looking man in the country. And he looked so good at thirty five that it was impossible to look away from him. 

He was dressed in a pale blue shirt and black slacks and it never amazed me, how good clothes fit him. 

I took in the broad shoulders, thick arms and the lean waist, the carefully styled hair and the breathtakingly beautiful face and sighed when he kept coming closer, hands held out. . 

Of course, the customary hug. 

i let him wrap his arms around me, my face buried in the comforting warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne filling my brain . He always smelled so good it made my heart hurt. I tried not to let myself get carried away. Tried to remind myself that this wasn’t anything more than a.....

A facade ? Or was it? Was his affection genuine? 

Was I just too cynical?

I shook my head, pulling away and smiling a little at the genuine venom in the leggy girl’s face. 

“Are you okay? Where’s Hoshi?” Taehyung brushed the hair off my face, eyes warm and I wondered if he’d forgotten we were here to get a divorce.

 Whenever we met, Taehyung acted like we were still together. 

No, that wasn’t it. 

He just didn’t act like we had broken up. He was affectionate and open and cooperative. It always left me in a sort of limbo, unable to navigate our relationship with clear boundaries. There were no line to stop myself from crossing, because he just didn’t draw them. 

“ Ms. Lee says we just have to go over the details like the alimony and the custody and the division of assets and then we can just proceed. Get it all finalized.  “ He said casually, when I moved away and sat on the chair opposite him. 

“Okay .” I said casually. 

He smiled and turned back to the girl next to him.

“I’ll join you after the meeting Lisa.” he gave her a nice wide smile and the girl practically bloomed under the attention before bowing curtly in my direction. I watched her walk away, slightly amused.

“Bit younger than your usual type.” I commented , glancing at him. He gave me a look.

“I’m not dating her.” He shrugged. 

“Does she know that?” I retorted.

 It was dumb. Uncalled for. I was being a bitch, really but the urge to evoke some kind of reaction from Taehyung was something I’d never really out grown. I liked getting under his skin.

Taehyung sighed and gave me a little smirk.

“Are you jealous, Mia mine?” He teased. 

It felt a little like someone had dug a nine inch dagger straight  into my heart. 

That stupid nickname. 

God I couldn’t bear it. 

Swallowing i looked away. 

“Sorry. “ he said quietly, a few seconds later. 

I nodded curtly. 

“Don’t do it again.” I said hoarsely. 

“Why not?” He whispered gently. 

I groaned. 

“Taehyung... “

“it’s just a name...why does it bother you so much?” He whispered. 

“The same reason you’re asking me for a divorce.” I said softly.

He blinked.

“Mia...”

“Because we both know its time to stop.” I said quietly. “ Stop dancing around each other , stop doing...whatever it is we’ve been doing these past two years and give our relationship a name. “ 

“I’m not very fond of labels.” He shrugged. I glared at him. 

“Well tough luck. Labels are good. Labels are great. They let you draw boundaries. “ I retorted. 

“You sound like you’ve had enough of me.”

“Well, haven’t you had enough of me?” I snapped.

“Not even close.” He leaned forward gently, eyes pinning me to the table with a gaze so strong he may as well have used his body. And it didn’t help that two years wasn’t enough time to forget how it would feel if he  had  used his body. How it would feel to be stretched out on that table, him on top of me, hands working my clothes open, lips kissing their way down my jaw. 

I could almost taste him, taste the minty freshness of his breath, feel his tongue in my mouth, the hardness of him inside me. My thighs clenched because I hadn’t gotten laid in two fucking years and even if i did, no one would ever compare to the man in front of me. 

“Mr. Kim? Mrs. Kim? “ 

The lawyer’s voice broke the spell and i straightened, swallowing. Ms. Lee had walked in , and I watched her close the conference door behind her before locking it gently. 

She was young, dressed in a business suit , a no nonsense bun and had small round framed glasses. She gave me a nice smile, shook hands with us both and placed her briefcase on the table before glancing between us. 

“Shall we begin?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : its gonna be a bumpy ride. 

[angelic-serenade]

“losing game” || fukuzawa yukichi

gif does not belong to me, nor do the anime & characters

fandom: bungou stray dogs

pairing: fukuzawa yukichi x gn!reader (1st person pov)

warnings: angst, lots of hurt and no comfort, emotional distress, barely mentioned mental instabilty, plot twist

a/n: just a little something i managed to write during the few moments of free time from uni. read as a letter to yukichi from the second paragraph onwards!! hope you enjoy, let me know if you like the new lyric-prose style i’m experimenting with!

word count: 1434

synopsis/prompt:  “a broken heart is all that's left, i'm still fixing all the cracks” ― arcade, duncan laurence

there is something noteworthy and indistinguishably patronizing which marks the mere presence of one fukuzawa yukichi – be it his wise and almost all-knowing gaze or his imposing posture, the way he manages to command respect without so much as a gesture anywhere he stands. he is authority and justice and that’s the only manner he allows himself to be, the only partial impression he allows others to make of him. sometimes i fret there really might be nothing more behind the carved, relentless shadow than the steely stares and unmovable frowns, lines so deep and intensely depicted that one might think of them as unforgiving – of what one may never know, if the unforgiveness staggers from the same place where the thoughts in his mind convince him that peace is something to be fought for but to never be attained. though sometimes the rough edges, the hollowed lines marking a tiredness which some days, some way feels all too familiar for comfort give way to a softer, unmistakably caring look; it’s almost imperceptible, the way he manages to turn the cold and unforgiving watercolors into a beautiful masterpiece, the true talent of the unrecognized artist  – his eyes lose the usually guarded edge which serves to protect everything but himself, his strained lips imperceptibly curl at the edge of a smile and the way he almost lets his shoulders abandon the weight he carries as if it were an old, battered companion brings to mind a tender sort of sympathy that sticks and can never really be forgotten – or forgiven for that matter.

akin to the flourishing of the most precious cherry blossom, you never allow for these moments to last too long, nor do they recur as often as to make those you care for expect them – in that, i think of you as more alike to the orchid than the cherry, for whenever the mysteriously grim orchid blooms, one knows not to hope for more time than its evanescent beauty can offer. cherries come to be expected, granted, but orchids never kiss and tell and you end up entangled either way. and after all, is it not the inevitable transience of things that makes them all the more desirable? if you heard me talking this way, with flowers and art and everything fulfilling in this life on my lips, singing your praises as if you were my last day of spring and sunlight, i’m sure you’d scoff the silliness away – this is your way, the way things have always been and always will be. no matter what you seldom sternly say, i’ll always be fonder of orchids than cherry blossoms anyway, for in their grave allure i found my own kind of tragic beauty.

by now i am convinced that you know and have always known exactly how much power you yield and how little you’d need to make me forget my own sadness – those moments, the careless slips of that bleeding heart of yours, are never meant for me. it pains me so to stand by your side without being able to bask in your praises, but that’s just how things are supposed to be – i am in your life, and that’s all i will ever need. sometimes you look at me as if you expect to see something - or someone – else in my place and i always end up trying to fill the void left behind by an illusion i don’t even know the name of. there is a hole that feels like an aching fever permanently carved into my soul, it spreads like an illness each and every time your voice creeps into my mind; even now i think of you and suddenly i feel much worse and better at the same time because you can never be the cure, but you sure as hell turned into my favorite medication. when i’m not by your side, in your beloved agency with your beloved family – the only ones allowed to walk alongside you into the sun - i delude myself into thinking i somehow may get over these terrible feelings that stretch my mind and hollow my heart, desperately convincing myself that time will wash away all of the promises kept in your sleeve. but sometimes, times that are just some and so unbelievably others, far in between and still so unfathomably precious to me, sometimes you let me hope and crave and i am almost convinced it could maybe be enough. the truth is that i have only ever known pain and i learned to make an addiction out of it.

once you called me by your side and i was quick to follow, as i always am because it’s you after all. under the feeble setting sun, the words spilled faultlessly from your lips, as if they had been composed to the likelihood of those poems about tragedy and grace i was stubborn enough to keep reading at night, and i stood in awe as you let me sip the most bitter of nectars, an aftertaste so haunting i knew it would forever ruin any chance of escaping this, of escaping you. welcoming the sudden flood with far more haste and yearning than i’d like to admit, you told me many things that day – about the agency, about your duty, about mine-, but you did not dare to utter my name even once, as you never did. you thanked me – me, little old, battered and faded, wide eyed and heavy-hearted me with no home to turn to and no more dreams in my closet to spare. you who had retrieved the pandora box and sealed it shut with your bare hands, you who had showed me another way, another path that nearly splintered my spirit all over again. i smiled still and for the briefest passing moment i almost hoped for you to reciprocate the minutest hint of affection; you raised your hand and rested it on my shoulder – it was warm, and it felt like water, like the purest form of unattainable salvation and i almost found myself crying in front of your unshakeable stance.

there was another time when you did gift me the smile i so desperately wished to keep for myself and i burn still, because look at what you made of me and what did you reduce my integrity to – i am neither blessing nor curse, the limbo of your love turned me into a willing martyr rejoicing the smallest act of kindness. you ruined me and i let you. i let you because a singular moment of bliss was worth the relentless tortures of your inferno.

i follow you around and keep you company still, but you never seem to acknowledge my unyielding pestering (just like before). when you let your guard down, my eyes lose themselves in yours because i can never completely understand what goes on in that obliviously rigid mind of yours – you look apathetic or sad or something that’s quite in between. oftentimes i worry for you, but you have always managed to cope and stand strong even as the tide came to wash away the last footprints of a decaying era, i believe you ought to keep doing so for another lifetime still. you have people who are dear to you as you are to them and for how much you’re unwilling to admit it, i also know that you keep a picture of me in your pocket, the one hidden on the inside of your austere kimono, somewhere between your contrite self-loathing and the lovely remnants of the day. when you think i can’t see you, i notice you make a habit of touching the spot where it’s concealed as if to remind yourself i am something right within your grasp, but that you’d never allow yourself to have. you never take me out of that pocket to properly relish the view and i will never ask you to. you grew fond of another illusion, as you’re prone to always do.

“the road to hell is paved with good intentions” i chant to myself when no one is listening, for my good intentions have only ever been inspired by you and burning and rotting in hell now barely sounds like a threat at all if i got to hear your praise just one more time.

today as you once again kneel pathetically curved upon my solitary grave, i can hear you weep yet; it’s been a while since you came to see me but finally for the first time, you call my name –

maybe you really did love me after all.

[emilybn330]

First Meetings

Yuu Nishinoya x gn!reader

When I realized I haven't written here about my favorite Haikyuu!! character.....

Rolling thunder boy amiright

Warnings: none

Finding yourself in the ordinary was never a fun thing. Routine and repeat. Stagnant. Simply put: boring. The life of a background character one could say.

Sure, the normal can be relaxing at first. Even a relief to those who always face the unusual.

In Y/N's case, they wanted more. They were bored and wanted a change. So when they moved to Karasuno High School half way through their second year, it was their sliver of hope to gain some excitement in their life. The students there didn't disappoint in that regard.

Apparently, since Karasuno was a country side school, there were seldom any new students. Y/N was practically the talk of the school and every club seemed desperate for a new member--likely to ask for more funding. One manager in particular had caught Y/N's attention, mainly because she was kind, confident, and not to mention gorgeous.

Kiyoko, manager of the boys volleyball team. She had invited Y/N to look at the team after school, so after some uneventful classes, Y/N made their way over.

As soon as they were in front of the door of the gym, Y/N felt a ball hit their forehead and fall to the ground. The impact wasn't too bad, so they only groaned and rubbed the pain from their head. They could hear a few people rush towards them.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" An unfamiliar voice said.

"Y/N! Are you alright?" That voice Y/N recognized as Kiyoko.

Looking up and expecting to see Kiyoko, Y/N nodded and instead made eye contact with the first person that spoke. Deep brown eyes looked back at them, concern etched on their features. Strands of blonde hung over their forehead.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Y/N said, looking over to Kiyoko.

"I'll get you some ice," Kiyoko's voice drifted away.

The person in front of Y/N coughed, bringing their attention back. Taking a better look, they could see a rather short boy standing before them. Only a little bit of his hair was blonde, the rest being brown and spiked back. He bowed low.

"Sorry again. I didn't receive the ball properly, so it bounced off my arms wrong."

Taken back a bit, Y/N blanked. "Uh, it- it's no worries. I'm not hurt anyway."

He stood to his full height abruptly, making Y/N jump back a little. His brows were furrowed and his eyes held a passionate look to them.

"I'll make sure to do better next time! I'm Nishinoya Yuu by the way, libero of the volleyball team."

"L/N Y/N. You can just call me Y/N though." He smiled, taking their arm gently and pulling them into the gym. Once inside, he didn't let his grip falter. He introduced Y/N enthusiastically.

Even after Kiyoko had passed Y/N the ice, Nishinoya didn't let go. Y/N didn't really have the heart to tell him, finding themselves being drawn to his passionate and enthusiastic nature.

He only let go once a game was called to start. The warmth of his hand lingered on Y/N's wrist.

Staying next to Kiyoko and who Y/N had come to know as Yachi, they paid a lot of attention to Nishinoya. The entire game was captivating, but he stole the show whenever he made a save. Y/N could tell that his focus was tremendous and that he was extremely experienced.

Only once did he look over at Y/N. When he met their admiring gaze, his eyes brightened and a smile broke out onto his face. Though he was quick to refocus, so he missed seeing Y/N blush.

Before the game even ended, Y/N whispered to Kiyoko that they would join the volleyball club. When she announced it, Nishinoya was the first to go up to Y/N.

"Welcome to the team!" Seeing his smile, Y/N had a feeling that their days wouldn't be very boring anymore.

"Thanks, Nishinoya."

[differenceonlyyoucanmake]

12 Dancing Princesses Thoughts/ Headcanons/ Assorted Stuff that Came to Me in a Dream

I’m kind of tired, so this may be incomplete. I wanted to put it out there, though. My dreams have mostly been from Courtney’s perspective, not an omniscient one. Because of this, there may be some gaps.

Ashlyn:

- Deserved so much better

- It actually makes me upset. I woke up from one of my 12dp dreams in TEARS because she deserved so much better.

- After Isabella passed, Ashlyn took on the role of being a maternal presence to her sisters. She did this extremely well, but it’s also heartbreaking how she pushed herself to grow up.

- Randolph was not a capable father during the lowest periods of his grief, and Ashlyn definitely had to compensate for this.

- Randolph... could have been kinder to her, especially after the queen died. He couldn’t look Ashlyn in the eyes. She reminded him too much of his late wife.

- Isabella wanted Ashlyn to inherit her belongings and position, but Randolph had his own favorites (I promise I don’t think he was an evil person, but he could have done better).

- I think Ashlyn would identify as bisexual.

- She knew several instruments, but was most attached to the flute. Her most treasured memories involved Isabella giving her flute lessons.

- She was expected to be the mature one all the time, so she repressed a lot of her own frustrations in favor of caring for others.

- She was closest to Blair and Courtney.

- She was a little soft spoken, and one of the most “ladylike”; Ashlyn was one of the sisters who struggled least with Rowena’s lessons.

- The younger sisters had a hard time remembering that she was a person capable of all sorts of feelings. They expected parental behavior from her, and got really confused when she expressed negative emotions.

- Some of the sisters assumed Ashlyn didn’t care for sweets, because she would offer hers to the others whenever they got any. In reality, she thought this was kind behavior. She showed sacrifice in several, seemingly inconsequential, ways.

- Despite seeming so mature, she always felt as if she stopped growing up after her mother passed.

- As the sisters grew up, Ashlyn really struggled with finding her purpose. She didn’t get the power her mother promised her. She put her own ideas and prospects aside to care for her sisters. She ended up floating from kingdom to kingdom, with varying success in several different courts. She eventually came  to live with the other eldest sisters.

- Despite being (in my view) cheated out of her kingdom, Ashlyn seldom expressed frustration or resentment. She adopted the attitude of a retired noble early in life, spending a lot of time on composing music and serene hobbies.

Blair

- horse.... horses..... sleeping in the stables...... with the horses

- I’m kidding! Mostly!

- Blair was bold and opinionated. She also loved witty conversation and comedy.

- What else did she love? Horses.

- She would sneak out all the time to ride.

- Her favorite horse was black and very tall.

- She was closest to Ashlyn and Courtney.

- Blair was sick in childhood.

- Though the older sisters were known for being more refined and elegant, Blair pushed this notion plenty.

- She loved adventure.

- All of the sisters missed the golden pavilion, but Blair struggled with this a lot.

- She didn’t have as many problems with Randolph, but sometimes she would CAUSE problems on purpose (mostly defending Ashlyn and calling out his favoritism).

- She turned her own estate later in life into a close replica of the pavilion. The grounds were massive.

- She was intelligent, but struggled with many academic tasks. If she needed to read something that was challenging, she would often hand it to Courtney for help. She would only have motivation to read if it was about subjects she loved.

- This is ironic, because she later came to be a published writer. I believe these were short works, similar to pamphlets.

- Blair enjoyed throwing and attending large balls and gatherings. She was still chasing the thrill of the magical visits she’d make with her sisters.

- Blair was considered extremely beautiful, and drew admirers wherever she went. She accumulated many pieces of ruby jewelry this way.

- She also liked wearing capes and cloaks.

Courtney

- Generally shy, Courtney made an exception when she stood up for Ashlyn.

- Courtney longed to travel, and books provided her with a form of escapism until she was able to.

- She had a health scare after the events of the movie, and this somehow tarnished her standing in society??

- She wasn’t straight, probably a lesbian.

- She was well read on political matters and the history of their kingdom, and would often be the first one to noticed Randolph’s incompetence in certain areas.

- She was a young teen when she first started rewriting her father’s treaties in her spare time. She learned after the first time not to bring her drafts to him.

- When Ashlyn and Blair left home, she grew closer with Fallon. Both had a streak of wanderlust, and gravitated towards the romantic.

- Courtney published poetry under a pseudonym starting at a young age. This probably helped her somewhat. As she grew up, her poems grew in notoriety, and many debated who their true writer was. A significant portion focused on love between women and feeling trapped.

- I think she had been to Apollonia (Antonio’s kingdom in Island Princess) several times, and knew both Luciana and Antonio from an early age. I think this was the case for many of the older sisters.

- After their mother died, the girls traveled less, and met less new people. Courtney was bothered by this.

- She was generally thought of as calm and quiet, but she felt emotions deeply ( even if she didn’t always express them).

Delia

- Athletic and spunky

- Delia enjoyed more structured sports.

- She was prone to sunburns.

- Delia was enamored with the sun and light. She would hang prisms next to her windows to watch the light refract.

- She was closest with her twin, Edeline. They enjoyed playing croquet together and (though it was usually harmless) gossiping.

- Delia had a temper. She would deal with guilt afterwards if she lashed out at someone.

- Her emotional regulation issues came to light after her mother died.

- Delia dealt with a lot of guilt in general. She didn’t feel as put-together as her older sisters, or as carefree as the younger ones. She felt guilty for not fitting in, and expressed feeling like an inconvenience to those around her.

- Outsiders thought she was dim-witted, and she internalized this.

- Delia often had a problem of interrupting people or speaking loudly, so it was advised that she stay quiet when visitors came. This really hurt her self esteem, since she was always happy to make new friends.

- Rowena had offended her when she was a young girl, and Delia never forgot this.

- Delia liked birds, and hummingbirds fascinated her.

- She had to learn to accept herself later in life. 

- She discovered people who appreciated her for who she was, and finally left her inhibitions behind. 

- After that, she became known for her charisma and charm.

Edeline:

- Edeline shared a lot of interests with her twin, such as sports and outdoor activities.

- She enjoyed making others laugh.

- Once Genevieve married Derek, Edeline took it as her cue to BULLY that poor man.

- Seriously, it probably warded off suitors for her other sisters.

- It was usually in good fun, though.

- Edeline disliked rules and structure.

- She was closest with Delia.

- She often stood up for her twin.

- Edeline had a good ear for gossip, and had her own methods of fact checking stories she’d heard.

- Something happened with her at Genevieve’s wedding?? Maybe she broke something??

- Edeline traveled some, but found her way back home eventually.

- She DESPISED Rowena. None of the sisters liked her, but Edeline couldn’t stand her from the beginning.

- Edeline would have loved to know about the concept of roast humor.

- She liked to have sleepover-like setups in their bedroom. She would build forts and encourage the others to come tell ghost stories. When the memories of her mother came to her, she felt the need to DO something, even if the action wasn’t necessarily related.

- She became known for her humor.

Fallon

- Fallon was pretty much independent, until she and Courtney bonded.

- Fallon always wanted pets, and was jealous that only Genevieve was allowed to have one (besides....bugs and the horses, who were kept outside).

- She would try to befriend wild animals, and nursed some injured animals back to health.

- I don’t think Fallon was straight.

- Fallon was sensitive, and had a hard time dealing with Rowena’s harsh treatment.

- Fallon had nightmares, and would often go to her older sisters for comfort.

- She enjoyed the company of others. She would spend time with servants and other people considered to be below her station.

- Fallon played the harp.

- She loved the softer aspects of life. 

- She devoted time to charitable causes.

- I just know that she did that classic princess trope of posing as a commoner. That’s such a her thing to do.

- She gained a reputation for being eccentrically kind. She had a large family of animals, who she took EXCELLENT care of.

Genevieve

- You may have noticed that the older sisters were generally closer with each other. Well, Genevieve wasn’t, and she made it that way.

- She.... liked to act like she was in charge. She often undermined Ashlyn’s efforts.

- She was Randolph’s favorite.

- Genevieve got along better with the younger sisters, especially Lacey.

- She probably did have leadership skills, but a lot of them came from acting like she did.

- Like I’ve implied above, she got a lot of power after she married, instead of Ashlyn.

- Derek wasn’t a bad person, but he was a COBBLER. How did she get more political power by marrying a COBBLER?

- She butted heads with Blair and Courtney quite often after the events of the movie.

- Basically, she had Main Character Disease dsfghjk

- She traveled less than the other older sisters.

- Admittedly, she wasn’t a poor leader.

- I have a feeling she adopted a lot of children later in life.

- She and Derek had a pretty long transitional period after they married, meaning they spent more time really figuring out who they were as a couple rather than jumping into their duties right away.

- Genevieve kind of symbolized the cutoff for the sisters who had lots of solid memories about their mother and those who didn’t.

- She was one of the best dancers out of the sisters.

- She was brave and self-assured.

- She knew what she wanted, and she would get it.

- After Twyla, she got some other cats. They were mostly orange and/or long haired.

- She never quite shook her habit of being late.

Hadley

- Hadley was closest to their twin, Isla.

- As Hadley grew up, they became more comfortable being gender nonconforming. They may have been trans, but I don’t remember.

- Hadley enjoyed fencing.

- Stilts were Hadley’s first love, and led to appreciation for other daring activities.

- Hadley also loved the ocean. Many of their adventures involved being at sea. They spent years sailing longside their twin on a ship Genevieve gifted them.

- Rumors swirled that they were a pirate. Though these weren’t true, Hadley didn’t mind.

- Hadley was energetic and intuitive.

- Hadley was an athletic risk-taker. They enjoyed acrobatics and other feats of the human body.

- Hadley became known for their adventurous exploits and fencing prowess.

- Though Hadley initially idolized Genevieve, she eventually sided with Ashlyn and the other older sisters once she learned the whole story.

- Hadley stayed with the older sisters after whatever scary thing happened with Courtney.

- Hadley mentored people, and may have been a teacher.

- She really missed the times when all of their sisters got along.

- There were rumors that Hadley was affiliated with darker forces, when in reality Hadley was one of the most well-adjusted.

Isla

- Isla was closest to Hadley.

- Isla liked adventure, but she was less daring than Hadley.

- Isla stayed our of most business involving the older sisters, preferring to spend time with her twin.

- She loved swimming.

- Isla had a collection of maps.

- She was known for being easy going. 

- She sometimes had to bring Hadley down from an idea that seemed too dangerous.

- Isla was the voice of reason in some situations.

- She never lost her passion for dance, and learned new styles through their travels.

- Isla had pet birds.

- She was admired for her grace and acrobatic talent.

- Isla enjoyed circus-like acts.

- She was more bothered by the pirate rumors than Hadley.

- Isla enjoyed researching magic, and trying to find a way back to the magic pavilion. 

- Isla was non-confrontational.

- She tried many forms of artistic expression, from writing to painting.

- Isla was loyal to Hadley, and would be there for her twin no matter what.

Janessa

- Janessa maintained her love of insects.

- Since they were so young when it happened, none of the triplets remember details of the magic pavilion. If their sisters weren’t there to confirm their memories, they would have thought it was a dream.

- Janessa grew up to be very interested in science.

- Janessa found the proper way to care for insects, and took pride in how well she did it.

- She was prone to worrying.

- She often lamented the fact that she was so young when they visited the pavilion.

- Janessa was considered obedient and passive.

- Janessa heard how much she looked like her mother (though not as much as Ashlyn). She had mixed feelings about this, because she couldn’t really remember what her mother looked like.

- Janessa was closest to Kathleen.

- She became close with Edeline and Delia when she got older.

- Janessa knew she wasn’t Randolph’s favorite, and took this personally. She tried, especially in her youth, to gain his approval.

- She also knew that Genevieve preferred Lacey, even though all the triplets looked up to Genevieve.

- Janessa balanced her love for science with her royal duties, and used what power she had to provide exposure and resources to research institutes.

Kathleen

- Kathleen was creative and unconventional.

- She was closest with Janessa, and became close with Isla later in life.

- Kathleen was known for her paintings.

- She started out painting things like landscapes, then moved into less traditional subjects.

- Her royal portraits were renowned in particular. They captured royalty doing activities that were important to them, or in significant fantasy settings.

- She painted portraits of her siblings and father. These became their favorites. She captured: a relaxed Ashlyn writing music, Blair on horseback in mid-air, Courtney in her library, Delia in the sunlight, Edeline in a fantastical outdoor scene, Fallon with her animals, Genevieve dancing, Hadley fencing, Isla swimming, Janessa surrounded by flying insects in the sky, and Lacey at work.

- Though she tried many times, Kathleen was not satisfied with her attempts of painting her mother. She felt like she was simply copying pre-existing portraits.

- The only painting of her mother she was somewhat pleased with was one of Queen Isabella walking away, her back to the viewer as she walked into a golden pavilion.

- Kathleen tried to paint the magic pavilion, and these painting had a fuzzy, dream-like quality.

- Her art gained a significant following.

Lacey

- She was Randolph’s second favorite.

-Lacey was unshakably loyal to Genevieve. She didn’t understand why the older sisters were upset about her being given power and land.

- Lacey struggled with illness as a child. She was inspired by the healing water at the pavilion to study medicine.

- Lacey struggled with muscle strength and coordination well into adulthood.

- Despite this, she continued dancing.

- She looked very similar to Randolph’s relatives.

- She felt the need to defend Genevieve, and would often challenge her older sisters because of this.

- Although Ashlyn never challenged her, Lacey harbored resentment towards her. She blamed Ashlyn for the fact that Genevieve’s approval wasn’t universal.

- Lacey was interested in scientifically based medicine, as well as magical remedies.

- Lacey was always closest with Genevieve, and lived with her for a long time.

- Lacey idolized Genevieve and Derek’s relationship, often heralding it as the pinnacle of romance.

- She searched for a way back to the magical world, believing it contained the key to eternal youth and immortality.

- Lacey didn’t care for travel as much as some of her sisters, but she usually enjoyed when she did leave her own kingdom.

- She grew up to be Genevieve’s closest adviser, and an accomplished healer.

Canon Noncompliant Things

- The sisters left the pavilion by dancing in birth order. Although Derek did leave by dancing with Genevieve, they weren’t responsible for leaving in the first place. Once again, Ashlyn doesn’t get the credit she deserves dfghjk

- Genevieve had an actual wedding, not whatever that was that was shown at the end of the movie. It was smaller than a lot of royal weddings (because Derek didn’t have many connections or people to invite), but it was a serious affair. 

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

As Usual

Pairing: Mando x Reader

Summary: When Mando finds himself in need of some help in a tiny village on Arbiflux, he may leave with more than he expected. 

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual assault (or at least alluding to it), a lot of unimportant OC’s with names to fill the town

Word Count: 5700

A/N: This is my first Mando fic so I’m really sorry if it sucks. I tried though and if you guys enjoy this, I have an idea for another one.

_____________________________

The Mandalorian caught your attention the moment he walked into your family’s blacksmith shop. Tall, angular, and mysterious, the man landed his ship in the large clearing just on the other side of the river from where your town was and made his way across the utilitarian wooden bridge directly to the shops. You watched in curiosity as this new stranger made his way into your village, a small bundle of something you couldn’t make out walking right next to him. 

You had heard stories of the Mandalorians and the Great Purge, though you were no expert by any means on anything other than simply knowing they existed. Seeing one in person though felt surreal. For all you’d known, they’d been killed off years ago. But apparently not all because one was approaching you quickly. 

“Can I help you?” You asked, taking your worn protective leather gloves off and walking towards the open mouth of your family’s forge where the Mandalorian had approached. 

“I need a part for my ship to be fixed.” He answered shortly in a vaguely robotic voice. 

Tousling your fingers through your locks, you attempted to blindly force the stray hairs into place, “Well, we don’t get too many visitors with ships here. Your best bet for finding someone who can fix your ship would probably be in the city.” 

“Where is the nearest city?” He questioned, lifting a small bundle of tan fabric off the ground. Your brows furrowed when you saw that there was a small wrinkly green baby but the Mandalorian tucked the child further into his chest, almost shielding him from your view for some odd reason. 

Writing the action off, you pointed to your right with your thumb, “About ten miles west.” 

“How long is it to travel?” 

“On foot, about four hours. With a kaadu, maybe two.” You explained, gesturing to the large reptilian creatures in the pens around town. Mando sighed heavily and you got the impression he was on a limited time constraint, “What do you need fixed?” 

The man shifted, “The ventilation system. The fins on the fan are damaged, blocking it from spinning. The oxygen is hardly circulating throughout the ship.” 

“Broken fins? They metal?” You asked, to which the man just nodded, “I might be able to help if that’s the only problem. Can I see?” 

The Mandalorian led you back to his ship and you walked inside, skin crawling with excitement. You’d never been on a ship before. Like you’d told the man earlier, they never really landed in your little village and you seldom traveled to the bigger cities. It was like a metal maze, cramped but still somehow roomy enough to be comfortable. 

You took in your surroundings as he led you through the small hallways, stopping when you saw an almost book-like assortment of massive sheets of a black substance with what appeared to be carvings of screaming people. An uneasiness settled in the air that the Mandalorian noticed, glancing back over his shoulder to see you looking at his assortment of bounties that had been frozen in Carbonite. Since people had come after him, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the criminals he had yet to deliver but the thought was always pushed off. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere. 

“They’re alive. Just should have cooperated.” Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words so he continued reluctantly, “Bounties.” 

“Oh, you’re a bounty hunter?” You asked, relaxing slightly. Knowing that whoever these people were were both criminals and still alive, you felt a little better. They must have been pretty bad people if they had bounties on their heads. 

You were far from naive but you weren’t well experienced in matters of the universe. Arbiflux had been your only home, and, even then, you seldom left your small village. Always work to do, anything to help your family. You’d always dreamed of adventure though, getting off the forested planet and exploring the galaxy. The Mandalorian must have travelled all over the galaxy in his line of work and seen so much. It made you envious. You took his silence to your first question as an agreement so you continued, “I’d imagine work would have taken you all over the place. I’ve never left this planet. Hell, I’ve only ever left the village a handful of times.” 

“I have been to quite a few planets.” His modulated voice humored your musings, turning to continue his way to the ventilation system. 

You trailed behind, vague metal echoes following your boot covered footsteps, “What are they like?” 

“A lot of desert planets. Some have swamps. Some have forests. Some are just cities. A few are all ice. Some are a combination.” As he spoke, you fantasized about all the planets that could be out there. You had done so many times before and every time the new planets became more and more fantastic, sometimes to an unrealistic degree. But how could anything be unrealistic when you didn’t really know the constraints of reality in your own universe? 

“I’ve always wanted to see them.” You mused out loud, “Your ship is really nice by the way.” 

Mando looked back at you and, although you could see no hint of expression behind the helmet you immediately recognized as being made from beskar, he had an eyebrow cocked at you. It didn't sound like you were making fun of him but he knew the Razor Crest was anything but. "You haven't seen many ships before, have you?" 

 With a small shrug and slightly twisted face, you shook your head, "We don't get too many people coming through town and I don't make it into the city often." 

Mando almost felt bad for you. He had learned how to read people easily and you were an open book. It was in the way you stood, the words you spoke, the way your eyes twinkled in amazement at the smallest things on his ship. You were a girl who loved her family and had a sense of duty to them. He assumed by the look of the shop you worked in that blacksmithing was a generational career, probably dating back to your grandparents, at least. He could see the love for your community and home but he also saw a fire for adventure, for anything other than what you knew. With every word, every little subconscious movement, his image of you became clearer and clearer. 

"This is the fan." Mando stopped suddenly and pointed to an open panel in the ship's wall. You halted quickly, having almost forgotten why you entered the Razor Crest to begin with. "The rest of the system works. I was able to fix the wiring. It's just this part here that was damaged and now it won't rotate. It won't circulate the oxygen." 

He stepped to the side, allowing you to step in and inspect the damage. It was a long cylindrical metal piece with five slanted blades evenly spaced around the circumference. There was a mechanism in the middle that led you to assume that it spun around on some metal rod and the blades circulated the oxygen throughout the ship. Sure enough, two of the blades were bent and crumpled, so much so that when you gave the device a little test nudge to see if it would spin at all, it only rotated an inch or so before the crumpled fans hit another part of the system with a klink, preventing it from moving more. 

"As long as these just need to be flattened and straightened out, this should be a breeze. I could have it done by the end of the day." You continued to inspect the blades to get a full understanding of the damage. "So what happened to it anyway?"

"There was an altercation on board with a passenger. A stray shot from her gun hit the panel that used to cover this and it bent everything up." Mando remembered the fight with the Twi'lek woman. She was a fellow bounty hunter, yet another person who wanted the money for the Child. 

The slight black scar from the laser on the wall confirmed the report and you ran your finger over the smudge, curious to see if it would wipe away. It didn't. "Sounds like such an interesting life." 

“You said you could have it done by the end of the day?” The Mandalorian ignored your wistful comment and set the Child on the ground, making sure he stayed in eyesight. He didn’t see you as someone who would harm the baby but he also couldn’t be sure after everything that had happened. 

You nodded, “Yeah, this looks pretty simple. But you’re going to have to take it apart. I have no clue how any of that works and I don’t want to be responsible if it breaks.” 

“That’s no problem.” The Mandolorian stepped over and pulled on a few wires, disconnected a few fuses, and before you knew it, the overall fan had dislodged from its place with a hiss of decompression. He turned it in his hands until he found the button he had to push to unlock the mechanism holding each blade in place. It took no time before he handed you the broken blades one by one. 

You held the blades in your arms, moderately sized at about 18 inches long and 9 inches across. Leaning forward, you inspected the intact ones to get an idea of how these needed to be shaped. “Well, there’s not much to do in the village while you wait, I’m afraid. There’s a little bar you could hang out at I suppose. They serve some decent food.”

“Thank you. I’ll be around.” He responded in his typical concise manner. 

The blades really were quick work, like you’d expected. What took the longest was the order you had before, which was making the metal wedges of Naz Ta’ron’s ridge plow that he’d ordered to be made last week. Farm equipment made up most of your work, unfortunately, aside from the occasional weaponry. The weaponry never took too long, definitely not as much as you’d like. Making swords and hatchets was a hell of a lot more interesting than manufacturing plows and wheels. 

By the time the sun had just begun to set, you had finished the third blade, dipping the last blazing orange, newly repaired fan blade into the large bucket of water, bubbles sizzling aggressively at the contact with the nearly molten metal and cooling it rapidly. After setting it down on the workbench to cool, you untied your leather smock and brushed the loose strands of hair out of your face. As far as you could remember, these looked exactly like the intact fans back on the ship, though in better condition. You had no idea what they looked like new but this had to be close. 

*

Throughout the day, you’d watched from afar as the Mandalorian had wandered through the booths before returning to the ship with what you presumed to be a basket full of supplies. That was earlier in the day and he’d since been waiting in the bar you’d told him about earlier. You powered down the forge and gathered the fans before walking over to the bar. It was only a few buildings down, no more than a few hundred feet away, so the walk was quick. People meandered around town on their usual paths, the ones you came to know each person in the small village to take by heart.

When you entered the bar, the usual people were in there. K’jann Ving, Jared Amavia, and Haera Kiwai all sat in their usual seats with their usual drinks. All so usual. The only thing out of place was the Mandolorian sitting at the booth in the corner with his little baby whatever-he-was. 

He noticed you enter right away, which wasn’t saying much considering the small size of the room. You walked right up to the table, “Fans are all finished up. Figured I’d drop them off.” 

You placed the sheets of metal on the table. The Mandolorian reached down beneath the table and pulled out a small brown bag, “How much?” 

“30 credits?” You estimated, not really knowing how to price such a repair. Compared to other weapon repairs, though this was only slightly more because there were more than one things needing repairing. 

The Mandolorian began to sift through his bag, presumably counting out the coins. The little green baby by his side stared up at you with adorable large eyes and cooed. You couldn’t help the smile that crept on your face when his tiny arms reached out towards you, though you made no move to pick him up, opting to give him a tiny wave instead. Babies had always seemed to like you. Your nieces and nephews had loved you from the moment they were born. 

A commotion sounded from outside the bar that stole your attention away from your payment and the Child. Your brows furrowed when you made eye contact with K’jann, who looked equally as confused as you did. Jared stood up from his spot at the bar and walked to the door, “What the hell is going on out there?” 

Before he could find an answer, a bright flash of light struck him in the chest and he fell, lifeless. You shrieked and jumped at the unexpected attack. “Get down!” The Mandolorian demanded, pulling you closer to him before shoving the table over. He pushed you to the ground, scooped the child up, and placed him beside you hurriedly before you could comprehend what was happening. You were lying on the ground on your back, using the table as a wall of sorts to shield from the gun shots that were assailing towards you. 

“Protect the Child!” The Mandolorian demanded of you, his voice surprisingly calm considering he had just been randomly attacked. 

The baby reached up and clung to your shirt, struggling to pull himself up into your arms for protection. You reached around his body and scooped him up, flinching when a blast of laser zinged a little too close to your face for comfort. 

“You’ve been a hard one to reach, Mando. You could’ve just given us the Child and it would all be done with but now we’re gonna kill you, take the kid, and your shiny armor.” A man’s voice taunted from the other side of the table barricade. 

What the hell kind of trouble was this guy in?! 

The Mandolorian jumped over the table and you reached out for him, his cape slipping through your fingers as he disappeared into the fight “Wait!” You called out to now avail. What the hell was he doing? There were a few grunts and groans. The laser blasts stopped being directly in your direction and began to be shot more erratically around the room. 

“Get him out of here!” The Mandolorian’s modulated voice yelled at you from the other side. 

This was it. You were going to die. This was what you got for craving adventure. 

The baby squirmed against your body, making little fearful noises. Rolling over onto your knees, you scooped up the baby and held him tightly against your chest before reaching into your pocket and procuring a blaster. Peeking around the corner of the table first to ensure that it was clear to run, you took off like a bullet, darting as quickly as possible to the door. 

The Mandalorian was fighting against two humans, a Rodian, and a Cerean woman at once. It appeared like he had them until the massive Cerean woman pinned him on the table, hand crushing over a part of his forearm that he seemed in a struggle to have access to. 

You didn’t know anything about this man other than the fact that he was a bounty hunter with a broken ventilation system. Why did you want to help him? Why were you putting your life on the line to aid him when you knew damn well he could very clearly be in the wrong? Why did you trust him so much when you knew literally nothing about him? 

The Cerean woman fell on top of the Mandalorian the moment you pulled the trigger. He groaned at the heavy weight but used her body to knock one of the human men down. He quickly tapped on his forearm, right where the woman had been pressing, and a large flame shot out towards the Rodian, who shielded his face. 

You began to run towards the door again, so close to escaping with the child, but something hard suddenly knocked your feet out from under you and you crashed to the ground with a painful thud. You clutched the baby close to your chest as you fell, using your body to shield him from the impact. Your eyes opened to see a tall Zabrak woman that you hadn’t seen previously standing over you. 

“Aw, Mando! Using some little village girl to save the kid? That’s a new level of low.” She chuckled sadistically, rolling her eyes from the Mandalorian and back to you, “Sorry, babe, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. Hand over the kid so I don’t have to kill you.” 

You froze in fear for a moment, brain stuck buffering in a desperate attempt to comprehend the situation you were in. 

“Guess I have to kill you.” She continued with an unapologetic shrug after only a second or two. She had a large staff in her hand that she spun around with skill, picking up enough momentum for the black metal rod to look like a blur, before slamming it down right where your head was. Thankfully, you rolled to the side just in time for the stick to slam into the ground with enough force that it very easily could have killed you. 

Without a second thought, you aimed the blaster that was still in your hand just in time and shot her square in the chest. Her body crumpled into a heap of black robes, her staff clattering to the ground. It took you a moment to realize that the commotion had ceased. 

The Mandalorian hurried over to you, “Are you okay?” 

Your whole body was shaking but you nodded, adrenaline pumping through your veins, “What the hell was that about?” You demanded, sitting up finally. When you looked around, you noticed that everyone who had attacked was dead. The other patrons of the bar had seemed to escape. 

Mando reached to take the kid from your grasp but stopped when he noticed how the small alien snuggled into your body like it was the safest place in the galaxy. You looked down to inspect his little body for injuries but he thankfully appeared unharmed. “I’ve been quested to bring him to the Jedi. He was originally a bounty I was supposed to bring in but I learned that the man who wanted him was going to hurt him. I couldn’t give him up. It’s my duty to protect him. People all over the galaxy like this have been trying to get the bounty on both of our heads.” 

“What’s so special about him?” The baby looked like any other baby alien. You hadn’t necessarily seen many baby aliens but this one didn’t seem particularly extraordinary. 

“I honestly don’t know for sure. I do know he can do things with his mind when he wants to, though. I figure it has something to do with that.” He extended a hand, pulling you up to your feet, “I’m sorry you got involved.” 

You shook your head slightly, looking around at the bodies littering the bar, two of which you were responsible for killing, “You said they were going to hurt the baby?” You asked rhetorically, “It’s no problem.” 

“Do all small town blacksmiths just carry blasters on them?” He asked, nodding towards the gun that was still in your hand. 

You tucked it away again, “We’ve gotten a few less than pleasant visitors from neighboring cities and towns. Just some jerks who come to town looking to pick a fight with the men or take what they want from the women. Pull out a blaster, it’ll usually put them in their place.” 

Mando thought about what that actually meant for a moment and a few more pieces of the puzzle that was you began to click together in his head. He couldn’t help but wonder how many times you’d had to pull the gun on a man who was trying to take advantage of you and the thought made his heart sink. He didn’t know you nearly at all but nobody deserved that. There was a twinge of protectiveness in his chest that made him want to track down anyone who’d ever threatened that sort of harm to you and show them just how good at killing the Mandalorians really were. 

There wasn’t time for that, though. If these five bounty hunters were here by now, there’d be more soon. He couldn’t risk getting caught up with any more people who wanted to take the Child. “Well you’re a good shot,” He complimented with a small nod of his helmet, “Anyways, we need to take off now. If they already knew we were here, others will be here soon. You said the parts were ready?” 

You nodded, “They were. I’m not exactly sure where they are now, though.” Your face twisted as you gestured around the freshly wrecked bar, furniture pieces just as strewn out of place as the cups and plates that were on them.

The two of you looked around for the fans and people from around town slowly funnelled into the bar, also helping to clean up the debris from the attack. “You need to go.” Zim Golu, the bar’s owner stood over Mando, who was crouched down to pick up one of the fans that he’d finally found. Zim Golu’s arms were crossed, his cheek bleeding from being hit with something during the fight. 

“I’m sorry about the damage,” Mando stood up, “I just need to find a part for my ship and we’ll be off this planet as soon as it’s installed.” 

Zim Golu stepped closer, “I don’t care about your part. I want you out of my bar.” 

You looked over from the next table over, setting down the chair you had picked up where it was supposed to be. “What’s the problem?” You questioned, walking over to the pair with furrowed brows. 

“There’s no problem.” Mando responded calmly, “We’ll be leaving as soon as I find the pieces I need.” 

“No, he’ll be leaving now.” 

The Child, who had been wandering around the building while you all cleaned, came up and held onto your leg. You glanced down before gently running your fingers over his head. “We cannot leave without these pieces. The oxygen can’t move through the ship without them. We barely made it here as it was.” Mando again was calm but insistent. 

“What don’t you understand, Mando? Look at the trouble you’ve caused my bar and this whole town.” Zim Golu clearly had no intention of backing down, despite the fact that the intimidating Mandalorian towered over him. 

You stepped forward and extended your arm between the men, “Mando, why don’t you go back to the ship and wait there. I will look for the pieces and deliver them when I find them.” You sent Zim Golu a look that told him that that was what was going to be what happened, whether he liked it or not. “How’s that?” 

The bar owner shot Mando a dirty look before pointing to the door, “Don’t come back to this place again.” 

Mando stood strong and emotionless under the shield of beskar and stared down Zim Golu as he walked away. 

“I’ll meet you at your ship in a few. We’ve already found two so the last one shouldn’t take long to find.” Mando looked down at you while you spoke. You handed him the first two fans you found, “Maybe you can get these installed while you wait. I’m sorry about Zim Golu. He’s always cranky.” 

“No, I understand. I’d be mad if my bar was destroyed by strangers too. Thank you for looking. We’ll be on the ship,” He beckoned for the Child to follow him out the door but the baby was hesitant, only wanting to be near you for some reason, “C’mon.” Mando picked up the baby and carried him out. 

Finding the last fan was more difficult than you had hoped. When the table was pushed over, it had been kicked under a shelf in the corner and it took you lying face down on the ground to finally see it. 

When you got to the ship, you awkwardly stepped up onto the ramp that led up to the Razor Crest and just up to the entrance of the main hull, “Uh, hello? Mando? It’s Y/N. I found the fan.” You announced, looking around while you waited for the man to appear before entering the ship. 

He climbed down a small ladder and approached you. You extended the fan blade out to him, “Here it is. Sorry it took so long.” You apologized, following Mando as he took off down the hall towards the ventilation system. “How did the other two fit? Is it working?” 

He stopped by the busted open wall panel that was supposed to conceal the ventilation system and pulled out the cylindrical piece that the blades attached to. He slipped the last one into place and it fit perfectly, “They fit nicely. Now we just need to see if it works.” He slid the mechanism back into place and reattached all the wires that he’d removed earlier. “Stay here and tell me if it spins properly. I’ll head up to the cockpit and activate it.” 

With that, he disappeared before you could protest (not that you were going to) up to where you assumed the cockpit was. You waited patiently until the low hum of the ventilation system kicked on and the fan began to rotate without a hitch. The Child waddled around the corner and right to you, arms up, asking to be held. You lifted him into your arms with a smile and held up your palm to him, “We fixed it! High five, buddy. Or, well, high three, I guess.” You chuckled, counting his fingers. The baby didn’t understand what you were trying to achieve so you gently tapped the palm of your hand against his in a forced high five. 

“Is it working?” Mando’s robotic voice asked from behind you and you spun around to face him. 

You nodded, “Everything’s looking good.” 

Mando immediately noticed the Child in your arms but, for once, he didn’t tense up at it. You felt safe, which perhaps was an error to assume such characteristics, but he couldn’t help it. Besides, he’d never seen the Child so affectionate with anyone other than himself. “Thank you for all of your help. I’m sorry about the trouble we brought with us.” 

“It’s no problem. If I’m being honest, it was kind of thrilling.” You chuckled, looking away with a small blush. That probably made you sound crazy. 

A silence settled over the two of you and Mando watched as your attention quickly turned back to the Child in your arms. “He really likes you.” Mando noted, “He’s not usually like that.” 

A small smile appeared on your face, “Well I must say I’m pretty fond of him too. He’s adorable. And, for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is really noble.” You told the Mandalorian. Why did complimenting him give you butterflies? You had no idea what the man looked like. For all you knew, he could have tentacles for a mouth or four eyes. But, regardless, there was just something about him that made you uncomfortable in the best way - in the sort of way that left your skin crawling with excitement and a constant little urge in the back of your head that made you desperate for him to like you. 

“I appreciate that.” 

Another small moment of silence again left you rocking back and forth on your heels. “Where are you off to next?” You inquired curiously. 

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out though. Tatooine isn’t too far from here. We might go there and lie low for a day or two.” Mando responded. 

A question had been whirring around your mind since the Mandalorian first arrived and enlisted your help but you didn’t realize how hard asking it would actually be. You knew, though, that this was your last chance. “Can I come with?” You asked, the words coming out quickly. 

“This isn’t a passenger ship.” He answered simply. 

“I don’t mean like a taxi or whatever. I mean... “ You struggled to figure out how to ask, “Can I come with you guys? Wherever you go, I don’t really care. I don’t have any money to pay you but I can help however you need. I have some survival skills in the wilderness. I can sort of fix some things. I have child care experience. And I’m a fast learner for anything else you might need.” You chewed your lip while waiting for the Mandalorian to respond. 

“Why would you want to do that?” 

You sighed, “I just… I don’t want to die here knowing I never did anything but smash metal with a hammer. I don’t want to spend my whole life stuck in this little village when there’s an entire galaxy out there to see. I understand that joining you would mean a life of danger but I think I’m willing to risk that.” 

Mando pondered the proposition. He had no actual need for a companion on his journey to deliver the Child to the Jedi but he could see the potential luxury in having one. Clearly, the Child really liked you. Fighting and caring for the Child was difficult at times and having an extra pair of hands would definitely prove helpful. Although you weren’t a trained warrior, you could hold your own in a fight and had no problem pulling the trigger when the moment called for it. You did have the ability to fix things that he wasn’t able to, at least when you had the proper tools. 

Beyond that, he could see your desperateness to leave this planet. Mando had never been what many would call a “softie.” He did what needed to be done and would do whatever it took to meet those ends. He had his ethics, of course, and obviously he felt bad for the people that he couldn’t help but he had to admit that he often had the “not my problem” mentality. Perhaps it was attributed to his newfound position as a father figure or maybe it was because he actually cared about you for some unknown reason, but he found himself sympathizing with your situation. He could see in your eyes that you saw hope in him and the Razor Crest as a way to get off Arbiflux. This was your opportunity to leave behind a life of “the usual.” But he still couldn’t help but find himself stuck on what you said earlier about the men from neighboring towns coming in to take advantage of the women here. The fact that you carried a gun in an otherwise safe community simply to defend yourself against men like that actually enraged him. His “not my problem” mentality seemed to be receding to his yearning to help you in some way, especially after all you’d done for him. 

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “People try to kill us almost everywhere we go. You will never be safe. Can you handle that?” 

With a hard swallow, you nodded your head. 

“We are leaving in thirty minutes. Take only what you need.”

Your eyes widened with surprise and a big smile spread on your face, “Wait, are you serious?” 

“Yes. As long as you understand what coming with me entails, I could use the help.” Mando didn’t actually hate his decision to allow you to come with. Part of him was actually a little excited to have another person, an actual companion, on board. Of course, he would gladly kill you or strand you on an icy planet the second you indicated any harmful intent towards the Child but that seemed highly unlikely at the moment. 

The way you did a little excited jump made him smile under the helmet. Your enthusiasm and gratefulness gave you a humble, real, and, frankly, slightly adorable energy, despite the badass edge of literally forging blades and shooting people. “Thank you so much! You won’t regret this. I will be right back!” He watched as you ran off the Razor Crest, presumably to your home to grab a bag of personal belongings. 

Mando moved to the main hold and sat on a box, the Child standing on the ground and looking up at him. He could have sworn that the little green baby was giving him that look. It was the look that kids gave their friends when their crush walked by. “Hey, knock that off. You better be on your best behavior for her. She’s willing to help you not get killed so be thankful she’s coming along.” Mando told the tiny being, who just giggled in response. “We’re just helping her! It’s not like that.” Mando insisted to the Child, exasperated with his silent (imagined) insistence. It didn’t occur to him that he really was just arguing with himself. 

He stood up and did a once around the ship to try and work out the logistics of living with you. Frankly, he wasn’t sure where you’d sleep or how living with another person was going to work as it had been so long since he’d spent more than a few days with someone. All Mando knew was that he wasn’t totally dreading your company.

[dollfaced-erin]

Not So New Afterall (Sdv Sebastian x F!Reader)

A/n: Hi! Hi!! Rin here again! It’s been quite a while since I’ve written, and this may be one of my last chapters before I got on a hiatus. School’s opening up soon, and I’m a hostel student. Currently, this is my last year, so by the end of this year, I’ll be updating lots more! (And playing alot more Stardew valley hehe)

This chapter may be more Abigail centered, since the friendship between the two is really necessary for the plot.

Ah, one more thing, the clothing choices will be based on a mod in Stardew Valley, cute seasonal clothing for NPC’s

Oh plus, Sebastian’s gonna be that emo jerk, ya hear me? Don’t go coming at me for that please :’)

CHAPTER THREE

It’s been a few weeks since (Y/n) had moved in, and apparently, had been settling in just nicely. Not only was she doing well with the farm, she was starting to get along with the all the villagers of Pelican Town. Especially the bachelors and bachelorettes around her age. 

Namely, Abigail and Sam.

Speaking of the duo, they had been hanging out with (Y/n) whenever she was free. But she seldom was, since she had to maintain her income by doing other work such as fishing, mining for mineral goods and doing odd-jobs for those around the town and they respected her.

Sebastian too hasn’t seen her recently, except during the moments she come to his house to talk to Robin about the farm buildings when he comes out to get lunch (or breakfast, for his case), or when she passes by on her way to the mines when he was taking a smoke. She would always slip in a brief hello and the two would exchange a few words before she was well on her way.

(Y/n) wasn’t always one to take a breather, not when she has so many things to take care of. Harvey apparently told Maru who told Robin, who told Sebastian, who told Sam, who told Abigail that (Y/n) had passed out numerous times from exerting herself too much. So the two put their heads together to get her to relax a little. 

Abigail was staring out into the clear blue stream that flowed beneath the stone bridge she stood on. The fish were swimming happily beneath her and she smiled in delight. Oh how she wished she could be as carefree as the fish. 

“Ah! I got it!” a familiar voice exclaimed from behind her. 

Abigail whipped her head around, her purple locks swaying as she did, as she turned around to see her (h/c) friend with a bamboo pole clutched in her hands. 

“Oh, wow! It’s a big one!” Abigail shrieked in excitement, her green eyes shining with pure joy. “Come on, (Y/n)! You got this!” she cheered, her hands in determined fists as she watched her friend reel in the marine life. 

“Ah!” (Y/n) exclaimed, as she successfully reeled in a silver-grade Shad. 

“You did it!” Abigail cheered childishly. Then, she stopped as her face beamed red. It was quite rare of her to have an outburst like this, she was usually so reserved to people she didn’t really know. 

She glanced at the (s/c) girl next to her, who was quite pleased with her catch. But ever since this girl moved in, she, without a doubt had shared her interests with the said girl, leading to many long and exciting conversations. 

Abigail admits that (Y/n) is a worthy as a cool enough gal to hang out with the gang.

“Yo, (Y/n). Me and the gang are hanging out at the Saloon tonight. You down?” Abigail asked with occasional her city-girl slang. (Y/n)’s head whipped around to face her, her (e/c) eyes gleaming. “You and the gang? You mean Sebastian and Sam?”

Abigail nodded as she let out a slight chuckle. “You bet. It’s some kind of tradition for us, and I thought maybe you should join us sometime,” Abigail invited as she flashed a quirky smile with her pearl white teeth.

She was hoping so bad in her heart that the girl would say yes, she really wanted some girl time with another female after so long with only boys. Agh, that must have sounded so bad, she scolded herself. She was literally gonna die if (Y/n) said no after she had put up that ‘macho’ front.

“If the boys don’t mind me around, sure why not? I could use some sweet free time, with my bestie,” said (Y/n) as she nudged her elbow with the purple-haired lady, a similar teasing smile on her lips. 

“Great! Meetup starts at 5, game starts 30 minutes after,” Abigail said. (Y/n) nods her head, “Thanks, I’ll head on right over after settling my shipments for the day! Can’t go on without making progress on the farm, huh?” 

The two parted, leaving Abigail to look at her reflection one last time in the crystal clear river, before heading off to the game room of the Stardrop Saloon. Her smile was so wide, she got lots of odd stares from her parents, since she was such a cold and shut-out girl, and to see her like this really shocked her parents. 

“Honey, what’s got you in such a mood?” Caroline asked, as she passed her daughter as she lent Evelyn a hand whilst tending the community gardens. “Ah, it’s...it’s nothing, Mom!” Abigail said, her smile immediately morphing into one of shock.

“Is it Sebastian, Robin’s son?” Caroline teased, making Abigail shake her head furiously. “No, Mom! It’s not him!” she protested, her face getting slightly redder. 

“Hmm, then I don’t suppose it’s that charming farmer that hung out with you a moment ago?” the green-haired lady teased once more.

 “Uh-(Y/n)?! No! It’s really not!” Abigail protested more, more aggressively once more, realizing her mom was spot on. The woman laughed lightly at her daughter whilst the young woman stormed off in frustration. 

“I know it’s both of them,” Caroline smiled delightfully. Maybe the farmer’s presence really would bring a good change to the community, and most importantly, to her daughter.

“You said (Y/n) was joining us?” Sam said ecstatically as he plopped down on the red sofa in the corner of the arcade room. Abigail nodded triumphantly, since Sam had been trying to really hard to strike up an interesting conversation between the two before it fades down to awkward silence.

“I’m telling you, she’s this really cool girl type. She won’t let your conversation die down!” Sebastian heard the female tell, as soon as he stepped into the Saloon. 

“Yo, Seb!” Sam greeted, raising a hand, as the male responded similarly, before tucking his hands into his pockets of his hoodie once more. “So, who’s one to not let your story die, huh, Abby?” Sebastian teased, indirectly telling her just how loud she was.

“It’s not that frequent I hear you praising someone so generously,” he said, plopping himself right next to Sam. Abigail huffed and crossed her arms, “Oh, come on, Seb! You know she’s an out-going person,” she said before her expression morphed into one of teasing. 

“Oh, right. You don’t spend much time out of your room to know about the outside,” she teased, making an irk mark appear on Sebastian’s forehead. “Excuse me? I’m working my butt off from programming, mind you,” he said.

“Hey, (Y/n)!” Gus greeted, and a loud hello from Emily.

“It’s rare to see you here, but how’re you doing?” Pierre asked, as the said girl entered their vision. It seems that she had groomed and cleaned herself thoroughly before coming, her (h/c) hair slightly shiny from water, and her bright skin that was earlier much redder from heavy-duty. Her clothes also seemed to have changed from her dirt marred blue pants and black shirt to a white shirt with a light blue jacket and light blue skirt.

“I’m doing great! The seeds I got are sprouting just nicely!” the girl praised, earning a hefty laugh from Pierre.

After greeting those that have called out to her, she made her way over to the trio that had invited her over. “Wow, didn’t know she was this well-known since she’s new and all,” Sebastian muttered.

“Haven’t you heard? Mayor Lewis put (Y/n) in charge of mending the old community center, and everyone’s buzzing about it!” Sam said, quite surprised at his friend’s reaction. “She’s starting to get on great terms with my mom, and Vincent totally likes her,”

Abigail nodded in agreement, “Yeah, Dad has been boasting that (Y/n)’s been preferring our goods over Joja’s,” she said making Sebastian scoff lightly. 

“New and already a people-pleaser?” Sebastian said, quite sour with how easy (Y/n) managed to round everyone’s attention within a small time span.

Sam slapped his back in a friendly way, “Hey, sooner or later you’re gonna have fun with her too,” Sam said. Typical Sam, a cliche optimistic guy.

“I’ll see if she’s a good enough lass to hang around,” he said as he stood up and picked up his personal favourite cue stick. “Let’s see how well she plays pool,” he said, a slight smirk on his face making colour drain from Abigail and Sam’s faces. 

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late! I picked up a few things I wanted to hand out,” the girl said as she racked a hand into a small pouch. (Y/n) then approached Abigail and gestured a hand.

Abigail was legit scared that (Y/n) would put something she hated like...like spiders. But (Y/n) laughed it off and said she wouldn’t stoop that low. The said girl placed a fistful of cold small...things on the pale girl’s hand.

When she released her hand, turns out (Y/n) had placed a fistful of Amethysts in her hand. “I saw this in the mines and thought about your purple hair, do you like it?” she asked.

“Like it? I love it! You’re the absolute best, (Y/n)!” Abigail gushed before the multi-job farmer turned to Sam. 

“I heard from your mom you love this, and I got plenty,” (Y/n) said as she produced a tin of Joja cola and handed it to Sam. “Yo, thanks! I really like this! Thanks a whole bunch, (Y/n)!” 

“And, Sebastian!” she said, as she held her fist behind her back, her other hand fiddling with her pouch. “Don’t think you can be friends with me that easi--” he was cut off by a forceful pull taking his arm and stretching it out, the palm open. 

“Ah, you were already waiting for something?” the girl teased, making the other two snicker as the ravenette’s face turned red and looked away. “N-no,” he stuttered as he felt something warm then cold press into his palm.

He looked back into the open hand, a lovely crystal blue item resting on it, other than the slender body part that held his hand. A frozen tear. Sebastian looked at (Y/n) in disbelief. But the latter just smiled cheekily.

“I reached level 53 in the mines yesterday, and saw this little beauty. Looks like you, don’t you think?” she asked, a playful smirk on her lips as her gaze lingered to her feet. 

Sebastian’s eyebrow lifted, as he expected the girl to continue what she was saying. “Small, and cold, don’t you agree?” she teased as Abigail and Sam burst out laughing. 

Sebastian’s eyebrows furrowed in slight anger but more to amusement and his expression turned into his sour one (y’know, like one of his sprite design). “Sorry, sorry,” (Y/n) laughed. “But no, actually, it just reminded me of you, no lie.”

“Thanks,” Sebastian said, his face reddening as he realized he hadn’t pulled his hand from hers. “I...I really like this. How did you know..?” he trailed off. “Instinct, truthfully. You look like someone who loves things from the mines, am I wrong?”

“Right,” Sebastian said, before picking up another cue stick, handing it to her. “(Y/n). Wanna play a game of pool?” he asked, or more like challenged, as the two cheered slightly in the back. Abigail clutching onto Sam’s sleeve and he clutched her hand in slight panic to (Y/n) answer.

A small smile graced her plump pink lips, as the maiden accepted the stick the male held out for her to take. “I’m not too good at this, but I’ll give it a shot.”

[moonlights-inkwell]

I’m Weak, My Love (And I am Wanting)

Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 5,525

Summary: After a night of drinking, you dance with a stranger. Jaskier is jealous. Jealous enough to do something extreme

A/N: Two Fics in one day? Who is she? I have no idea.

This fic is dumb and super unbeta’d but oh well, sorry for any bad writing and junk. I’ve mentioned Jaskier being jealous before and wanted to write something to go with it.

Title from Her Sweet Kiss.

Warnings: Public Sex, slight degradation, Reader is drunk, Jaskier is insecure. 

You feel the eyes on you before you even really understand what they are, hairs on the back of your neck standing up on end. It’s distracting as all hell.

“Fuck!”  

The word comes out loud and slurred as you stumble over your own feet mid-dance. You’re drunk, or if not drunk then tipsy enough to know that you soon will be- the feeling is more than welcome. Working, fighting as you have been, it leaves little time these sorts of festivities, the kind that reminds you of home. The rush from guzzling down tankard after tankard of sickly-sweet apple cider is unrivalled in its ability to make you feel girlish and giddy. And so, you’re dancing. Or were, as it may be, before you tripped. 

Your compatriots don’t join you, but you rather expected that before abandoning the table. Geralt seldom allows himself to indulge in such luxuries- like smiling, or engaging in pleasantries, so you assume that dancing is far beyond his capabilities. He doesn’t even tap his foot when Jaskier performs catchy, often bawdy songs, in his honour, so this music, pretty but lacking in lyric or any type of familiarity is unlikely to rouse him to his feet. Besides, crowds are hardly something the White-haired man enjoys, standing out like a sore thumb amidst all of the mundane people of the village you’re staying in.  

Jaskier, however, Jaskier staying at the table is a little odder. The bard adores crowds, feeds off of the energy that a group of people exudes and is able to talk to anyone, a trait you find intriguing and intimidating in equal measure, but he's sat. The tavern has a band of bards, all playing in unison to form something overwhelming and beautiful, so there is no chance for him to perform, to wink and sashay about while strumming his lute and lapping up attention. That had rather taken the wind out of his sails when he realised, souring his mood to a point where he isn’t even trying to dance with you. It had been upsetting at first, how he had essentially ignored you in favour of scowling and fingering the frets of his lute like the strings will make the other musicians disappear.  

Ever since meeting the bard, you’ve thought him beautiful. Not beautiful, beautiful isn’t quite the right word. He's amazing. The kind of person for whom a natural sort of charm radiates from them, who would be attractive from personality alone, even if he wasn’t one of the most attractive men you have ever laid eyes upon. Ever since the two of you began... whatever it is the two of you have been doing, he's done his part to act as if you’re the only person in tge world to him, but right now? He only has eyes for the band. The coin that he could have earned would have been a godsend, but you don’t care about that right now, all you want is to dance with the bard. He's just. Sat there, scowling and sitting instead if dancing with you.  

It’s such a simple thing to bring so much pleasure; dancing, especially when coupled with somewhere to do it, and this tavern certainly feels like an appropriate place for it. It’s heaving, overrun with people you assume must b locals, all laughing and chattering like they haven’t a care in the world. Perhaps they don’t, their only troubles coming in the form of what ale to drink and who they should dance with. You envy them that. Truly, you can’t remember a single one of your concerns from before you packed up and abandoned your life go travel with a wandering Witcher and his Bard. Logically, you know you must have had them, but not a single one is important enough to linger in your mind. Any domestic issue pales in comparison to fighting beasts, arguments about corsets and how near you may go to the woods forgotten in lieu of how best to fell a Wyvern or exactly where to hit any man who means to do you harm. It’s selfish to envy these people their lives when you know that you wouldn’t trade the life you have chosen for all the gold in the world. Mid-stumble, you catch yourself, and stand upright once more, bringing your tankard to your mouth and draining it before moving to place it on a table, only to fall over your feet once more, flinching for fear of impact with the ground. But it never comes, instead a pair of arms wind about your waist and tug you up to the body of one of the boys who had been dancing around you. He’s a pretty thing, a mop of blonde curls hanging about wide green eyes that stare at you like you’re a prize that’s fallen into his lap, and you grin up at him gratefully. It takes less than a second for him to tug you closer still and begin another dance, hand on your waist and the other gripping your hand; it’s nice, nice to feel wanted, even if it’s only for a night, a dance- there are worse ways to spend a night than hanging off the arm of some pretty stranger. Serves as a nice distraction from the bard as well. Well, it would be nice, if not for the feeling that you’re being watched, that has you craning your head to see who it is that is staring. Then, your eyes meet a gaze all too familiar.  

Jaskier.  

His eyes are narrowed into slits, brows knitted together and mouth downturns in a look that you don’t recognise on his face, but know all too well. A scowl. Jaskier doesn’t scowl, that’s a look used by Geralt or yourself, but right now he's scowling at you, glaring daggers into you and gripping the neck of his lute so tightly it looks as if it might break.  

“Something wrong, Pretty Lady?” The blond asks playfully, making you turn your gaze away from the glowering man across the room to meet the eyes looking down at you.  

“Oh. No. No, I just. Thought someone was looking at me.”  

“The man in the red?” He asks, looking straight at Jaskier before chuckling, spinning you about and causing you to fall against his chest once more. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”  

“What?” You ask incredulously, eyebrow raising. It's such a weird thing for him to say about a complete stranger, and you can’t really understand what he means. Jaskier is scowling, yes, but you assume it’s because you’re able to enjoy yourself while he cannot perform.  

“He looks like he might murder me.” The boy tilts his head and leans his head in, mere centimetres from your face in such a way that has you thinking that he might kiss you. “Your husband?”  

His question flusters you, only serving to make your cheeks flush bright red and a nervous laugh to escape your lips. Jaskier? A Husband? The idea of him being wed is so alien, even when applied to you. You spend too many nights with him curled about you, but you aren’t even courting, never mind being anywhere close to marriage.

“No!” You say the word a little too forcefully, and your dancing partner grins. “We're traveling partners, he is not my husband.” You don’t know what you are. You kiss, settle in his arms like it’s where you belong, spend far too many nights with him bucking up into you and swallowing down your moans, but you aren’t courting. He isn’t your gentleman caller. Your lover, yes, your friend, always, but you have no clue how to articulate that to this stranger, and so don't.

“The look on his face has me thinking he might wish to be more than traveling partners, Pretty Lady.” He says teasingly, lips brushing against your own with each word. You are more than that, but the alcohol has you tongue tied. You want to kiss this stranger. Well, that’s not entirely true, you want to be dancing with Jaskier and to drag him down into a kiss, to lean in and close the gaps between your lips, but you'll settle for trying to forget the man behind you who cares far more about music than spending time with you. He seems to have the same thought as you seeing as he kisses you suddenly.  

Its soft, sweet, but... felt like nothing. It’s just skin on skin, no different from how his hand on yours feels, and you can’t help but feel disappointed. You’ve only ever kissed one man before, never felt a need or want to either, only ever really wanted a bard who is too tied up in himself currently to kiss you, but every kiss with Jaskier is a world stilling experience, the sort people write songs and poetry about and this feels like absolutely nothing at all. No sudden surge of desire, no need to fling your arms about him, no want for anything at all.  It’s deeply disappointing to say the least; like something inside of you is broken, or at least dampened by the alcohol raging through your system. The man kissing you, however, seems to feel something if the quiet moan he lets out is anything to go by, and pulls you closer, but you remain still. You can’t bring yourself to kiss him back, so instead just stand there stock still. Well, stood stock still until you feel a hand firmly grasp your wrist and tug. Hard. The pull sends you stumbling blindly backward, barely able to realise what is going on when you see Jaskier pushing the blond man backwards.  

“Get your bloody hands off of her!” He says, words dripping with poison, audible above the music. The people dancing around you stop their movements and stare at what is going on, at the Bard standing in front of you like a guard dog.  

Your dancing partner opens his mouth to argue while surging toward Jaskier who clenches his fists into balls, but stops when you quickly say Jaskier's name. This is the closest you have ever seen him to a fight, watching hands that daily cradle a lute clenched to punch someone is so unnatural.

It’s embarrassing, to say the least, to be gawked at by such strangers and turned into a spectacle, and so you reach out to the bard, hand brushing against his back.

“Jask-” You begin, and he turns to you quickly, eyes initially full of anger, but softening slightly when they meet your own; his hand flies out once more and grabs your arm, painfully tight.  

“Come on, Little Miss,” He says coldly, walking towards the door to the pub and dragging you along behind him. You drag along behind him, and hear the music start up once more, making you scowl at the prospect of missing out on dancing. There goes the chance at nostalgic bliss you had been enjoying. You’re in the street before you really know what is going on, and Jaskier curses under his breath into the darkness of the evening.  

“Shit. Where is the fucking inn...?” He mutters, craning his head about to try and get his barings once more. This isn’t where you recall entering, and assume that you must have left through a side entrance, you’re in some side alley, not the main street. The iron grip on your arm is growing painful and you try to pull it free, Jaskier's grip doesn’t falter. The air is uncomfortably cold, especially against your warm cheeks, and standing like this is doing little to warm you.  

He’s trying to work out where you go from here, and you’re wondering the exact same thing; just not about how to get back to the inn. He’s gripping you like he wants to bruise you, wants to leave his mark on you and you don’t know what there is you can say to make his jaw unclench or his hands soften. There are no words. Though you aren’t courting, it’s been quite implicit between the two of you that whatever it is you have, it’s exclusive; he and you are not to be... toying about with other people. You don’t flirt with men hoping for free drinks or cheaper rooms anymore, Jaskier doesn’t bed or even flirt with other women, and between the two of you? You fell at the first hurdle, he has remained loyal to whatever this is, and you let some stranger kiss you. Famous flirt and serial seducer, Jaskier, has not tried to romance anyone but you but with a little ale in you and the high of dancing rushing through you, you let a stranger kiss you; not just kiss you, but kiss you in front of Jaskier. There’s nothing you can say that will change that.  

“I’m weak, my love, and I am Wanting.” The lyrics come from your mouth unconsciously. You don’t sing, it’s not something that comes readily to you, but with the ale and discomfort around you, it’s a that you can think to do. Singing is Jaskier's skill, and while drunk you can hardly carry a tune, but you simply need to fill the silence and a song will do. His song too. It feels like an insult, but he turns to you with a smile- all teeth and gums. Like a wolf, a beast, and it’s exciting. Jaskier doesn’t look like a beast, he’s all sweetness and light but given what he’s seen, you suppose it makes sense. You blink slowly at him, and feel him tug you toward him once more, body making contact with his chest and driving all of the air from your lungs.

“What the bloody hell was that all about?” You ask, a little more harshly than you expected it to come out. “I was having a good time-”  

“A good time? Is that what you call letting a little toad like him near you?” He seethes, towering over you in such a way as to make sure you must look up at him. You feel like a child being chided, not someone talking to a man who had until this night been seen as your equal.  

“We were only dancing, Jaskier. I fail to see how he was taking advantage of me by dancing. You and Geralt were hardly going to stop your brooding and be my partner.” You try to argue, but your words come out stilted and unnatural. Arguing with him isn’t natural: Geralt you can argue with until blue in the face, everything said is forgotten within an hour or so, but Jaskier? He remembers everything, pulls it out at a second’s notice and is a wordsmith. He knows how to build up or tear someone down with nothing more than his words, and well at that. Your argument is childish and nonsensical too- acting as if you were only dancing is an obvious lie. You know what happened, he knows what happened. You cannot deny what he's seen with his own eyes and to try is to insult his intelligence.  

He pushes you, and the rough brick of the inn presses into your back, rough and painful enough to warrant a noise of complaint, which dies on your tongue when Jaskier's hands bracket you in place. You let out a gasp, from the sharp pain of the bricks and the fact that he's pushed you and is so near. With him so close, you can smell ale on his breath that you hadn’t seen him drink. Is that your breath? The proximity of your lover so close combined with the alcohol has your head spinning in a way that makes you worry you might just sink to your knees. He looks beautiful. He always does, but somehow, now with chestnut locks falling into his eyes and glaring at you in a manner that is just on the right side of feral, he has your knees shaking. You've never been attracted to dangerous men, but in this moment, with him having all but punched a man over you, you understand how so many women can fall over themselves for men like Geralt.  

“You weren’t just dancing, were you, Little Miss?” He growls, leaning in until his face is but a centimetre away from your own. “You let him kiss you.”  

“He kissed me.” You attempt to correct him before realising you've basically said the exact same thing he did. Jaskier growls at that, and slams his mouth into yours. It hurts a little, his kiss pushing your head back into the hard wall, mouth working harshly against your own and tongue prying its way into your mouth, world’s away from his usual way of kissing- all sweetness and light replaced by something darker. Almost possessive. You try to move your hands up to grip the satin front of his doublet only to have them pinned to the wall at either side of your chest. His lips leave your own to move down to the column of your throat, not quite kissing but more nipping at the skin.  

“You let him kiss you.” He says darkly against the skin, warm breath fanning against cold skin to make you shiver.  

“I didn’t kiss him-"

“You didn’t stop him either.” The words are almost a snarl, and your heart all but stills in your chest.  

“I didn’t know how! And I didn’t kiss him back, Jaskier, we both know I wouldn't...”  

“I don’t believe in sharing.” Funny statement. He’s made a name for himself by bedding married women, but the woman he isn’t courting being kissed is somehow a punishable offence? What’s the difference, you ask yourself, while his lips ghost across your neck, how is some man kissing you any different from what he used to do? Teeth graze sensitive skin and you bite back a moan when a thought enters your mind. Those women weren’t his. They were another man's wife, not someone he shares a bed with, spends his days beside. He hasn’t ever needed to concern himself with the aftermath of adultery, save for running from nobles- never been jealous of who looks at a woman that he cares for.

At once, everything falls into place. All night makes so much more sense, how he had tried to keep a grip on your hand as you slipped from his grasp to the bar, never to return as you joined the fold to dance, the constant watching, the scowling at your dancing partner. No sign of his usual animated chatter, no annoying Geralt, just watching. Unending watching. He wasn’t angry about the other musicians. No, no, it was something completely different all together.  

“Are. Are you jealous?” You stammer out which only makes the Bard growl and all but bite your neck, sucking on the skin in such a way that has you certain that there will be a bruise there in the morning. A strange concept indeed. Jaskier is all lover and no fighter, so the thought of him bruising your skin even through kisses is something else.  

“Am I jealous of some ugly prick?” He raises an eyebrow and slowly raises to his full height once more, his knee slotting between your thighs and grinding oh so slowly against your sex. “No. What I am, is fucking angry. That some bastard is touching My Little Miss, that you would let him-"  

“Y-Yours?” You stammer out as the meat oh his thigh rubs against your clitoris.  

“I spend my days singing to you.” He nips at your neck. “My evenings holding you.” He laps at the bite with the flat of his tongue. “My nights fucking you.” His hands release your wrists, one moving up to grope your chest while the other moves down to tug your skirts up past your waist and slides into your undergarments to press the tips of his fingers to your sensitive pearl, letting out a ghost of a laugh upon feeling your fluids covering his digits. “I kiss you; I sleep with you, I live and breathe you and use my mouth on you until you can't even breathe. I think that rather makes you mine.”  

He says it in a manner that is so matter of fact that it makes your head spin. His. Logically, you know you should be angry at him for being possessive- you aren’t his partner, not his wife, not anything more than a bed partner- but the way he says it has you dripping, walls clenching around nothing at all while his leg grinds against your cunt. His. It leaves no room for argument or discussion, just a claim of ownership that can’t be disputed, not that you would if your traitorous mouth would allow you to form words. You like that, as much as you know you shouldn’t. It makes you sound like a pet or some kept whore, and the affectation in his voice only serves to remind you that he must be some rich cunt and you should slap him for implying he could ever own you, but really, all you want is for him to breach you with his calloused fingers, make your thighs quake. To be owned by him, at least right now, sounds perfect- to be filled with him until you know nothing but his name and how his cock feels within you.  

“You're soaking.” He mutters, dragging his nose against your skin. “Is this for me? Or that prick?” He sounds so smug, but there's an undercurrent of anger running under his playful tone.  

“Please... Please.” You whine out, biting your bottom lip so hard you taste blood. He chuckles, fingers deftly circling your clit without ever moving further.

“Please what, Little Miss?” He asks, his smile all teeth. “Please...? Please stop touching you? Please let you go and be touched by that disgusting little-"  

“Finger me.” You cut him off earnestly, back arching off of the wall and pressing your chest into his. Melitele, it’s sad how wanton you’re acting, begging to be touched in a place where anyone could walk past the two of you. Quiet is needed, discretion to keep prying eyes away, but you don’t care who hears you as long as he stops playing these games and does what you both want him to do.  

“Me or-"  

“Gods above Jaskier, please. Please, Jaskier.”  

He smirks at that, and you force yourself forward to slam your mouth against his. The vibration against your lips lets you know he has more to say; always has more to say, is never silent. Normally, his voice is something you revel in; how it manages to make even the most mundane thing sound melodic, but if kissing him will keep him from talking more about the man inside then you can deal with him not speaking. Thankfully, though, he ceases his circling to instead push what feels like two fingers into you and your eyes water at the sudden movement. It’s not the first time he’s done this but it is the first time he’s done it with such intensity, thrusting his fingers with such force you're almost afraid it might bruise your cunt, the worry is short lived when the pleasure of it hits you all at once. He’s good with his hands, you’re reminded when you notice the neck of his lute bobbing with each movement of his arm. Musicians’ fingers, calloused from the fruits of his art and not labour, play you like he plays his lute and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from making a sound, just to spite him. He loves it when you make noise, said once that it makes him sure that he's actually pleasing you, and it’s normally a sign that you two can afford the privacy to be so- there is no privacy here, in an alley outside of a busy tavern where one loud moan could alert anyone of what the two of you were doing. It’s embarrassing how much the proximity makes you want to moan, and almost definitely why he's doing this here. Wants everyone inside, but mostly the blond man, to know how little it takes for you to fall apart for him. That travelling partner definitely isn’t the right term for what he is to you, even if you don’t know what the right words to describe him are.  

“Come now, Little Miss.” He coos quietly, fingers on the hand not currently working you into a stupor tracing the visible edges of your teeth. “Sing for me.” His face shifts to your neck and presses a soft kiss to it, before nipping at it, nipping turning to biting and sucking as soon as it had started. His fingers gather more momentum when a third breeches into you and then crooks into a spot that has you seeing stars. A noise that verges on a scream, masked by a sudden burst of loud music and cheering within the pub, escapes you which makes Jaskier grin and peck your lips before retracting his fingers all together.  

“Jaskier-" You hiss, eyes narrowed to slits, but stop when he drags your hand to his trousers and places it on top of his cock. The dark had done enough to conceal it from you, but with it beneath your hand you can feel it, hard and throbbing beneath the fancy fabric. It’s good to know that, jealousy aside, he isn’t angry enough to not want you. Dark lashes brush against his cheekbones and his head slumps to the wall beside your head as soon as you touch him, letting out a wanton little moan. “Oh Jask.” Your voice turns tender and your grip on his member tightens as much as it can through his pants and you work it up and down the shaft, feeling how it twitches with every movement of your wrist. The first time this had ever happened, both of you drunk on ale that tasted like piss and hidden away in some cupboard in an inn, he had chuckled at how gentle your touch had been, going so far as to grab your wrist to guide your movements into something more pleasurable: but now he chokes out a moan of something that sounds like your name, hips stuttering in staccato thrusts to chase your hand. You drop your grip of him after a pump or two more, turning your head to press a gentle kiss to the exposed underside of his jaw. It’s little by means of an apology, but you see his lips turn up in a smile while he heaves out a sigh, hands sliding down to his trousers and unlacing them at a speed that reminds you of his strumming.  

“Part your legs.” It’s spoken like a request, but you know it’s a demand and even if it wasn't, there was no way you could deny him. With an awkward sort of shuffle, you push your undergarments down to step out of them best that you can before leaning back against the wall and letting your legs part. The skirts still cover you, but you feel so exposed like this. In the near pitch, you can hardly make out anything save for how his arms move to shove his trousers down. Darkness hides too much, you think, as you can’t even make out how his member even looks in this light, but Melitele you feel it against your thigh when he steps closer to you. A cold hand slides your skirt up once more and Jaskier steps between your legs, holding onto your thigh and guiding it onto his hip.  

“Can I-"

“Fuck me, Jaskier, or I shall scream.”  

The moan that escapes your lips is louder than you would like, but he chuckles and it’s enough to make your heart swell: lips landing on your and moving gently against them as he thrusts into you. He's big, big enough to make your cunt feel full to bursting point each time he enters you, and you can’t help but make noises when he does.  

“There we go, Darling.” He murmurs against your mouth, making you wonder how he can string together a coherent sentence in moments like this. “Gods, you’re so tight.”  

Thrusts grow faster and with each movement your moans grow louder even against his lips, you can feel them curl around yours. He tugs back from you after a little while and rests his forehead against the wall, breathing heavily.  

“You’re so good to me, Little Miss.” He breathes, grip turning to iron on your thigh. “You’re... perfect. My Little Miss.” He speaks so much that his words feel so much more natural than silence, more natural than anything in the world; bird songs, trickling streams, Jaskier’s words. “You’re beautiful, and he wants you... everyone wants you. I can’t lose you...”

“...You know I want you, don’t you?” You ask, voice cracking. The noise that he makes is somewhere between a moan and a sob, breathing shakily against the skin of your throat. “I can't imagine being without you, Dandelion. You... You have no need to be jealous of some stranger who tries to kiss me.” He whimpers, hips stuttering. He's close, far closer than you, but in this moment, you don't care at all. This isn’t about you. This is about him, and letting him know how much you care. Care in such a way that words alone will never be able to express.  

“You want me now.” He sighs, thrusts slowing and hand moving to rub your clit once more. “I know that. But you'll change your mind, Little Miss. Everyone does. I ought to savour the time we have...” He thrusts hard at the word savour, and you see white as his cock head hits that spot deep within that makes you weak. “But I know you’ll soon change your mind.”  

Oh. That, that was not what you anticipated at all- you had expected some sort of talk about how he wants you too, but this self-depreciation is new. Jaskier is always so confident and this is alien to you. There isn’t a time you know when he isn’t self-aggrandizing, preening and strutting like some fancy song bird, all too aware of how wonderful he is.  

“I'll always want you.” You whisper and his head rises from the wall once more and instead rests his forehead against yours. “You. Just you. Wonderful, amazing you.” You mean it too. He'll probably believe it to be drunken ramblings come morning, but you mean every word. You love him, love him, love him.  

You love him. Have for far too long, really, far longer than is right to go without saying. It’s impossible not to love him, he’s a breath of fresh air, a beacon of light in a doublet, a lullaby you didn’t know you had forgotten, nostalgia for a life you've never known before. Jaskier. Wonderful, foolish Jaskier, who sings away each day and talks to you like he cannot imagine speaking to another soul, and does his best to stitch up your wounds while chiding you about how you worry him so. Jaskier, who has carried you on his back when he thinks you're limping behind, and sleeps with his arms wound around you and head burrowed between your shoulder blades. You love Jaskier. The thought overwhelms you, and you have to bite back the words to keep them from coming out. You seek his lips out once more, kissing him chastely.  

“I'll always want you too, Little Miss.” He admits, he thrusts hard into that spot and presses on your clit and your vision blurs as you moan so loudly your voice cracks, pleasure overtaking you and ensuring you can’t feel anything but pleasure and the rush of his seed flooding into you.  

“I mean it, you know.” You say when the world settles once more, Jaskier pulling himself free of you and tucking himself back into his trousers. “About wanting you, I mean.” I mean it. I shall want you till the day I die, till each star burns out and the nights no longer follow the day, till spring doesn’t come. I want every part, every facet and secret, every regret and mistake and treasured memory- and to make a million more. I want to show you each scar and hear every song. I love you. I have never loved anyone as I love you, I will never again love as I have loved you. You make a poet out of me, steal my senses, my very soul; and I want you to keep them until the day you are no longer mine to keep, and then keep them a thousand days beyond so I cannot feel your absence. I love you. I want you.

“You mean it now, Little Miss.” He says simply, hand taking yours. “Now is enough.” He continues and squeezes your hand.  

Now is enough, you think, but forever is all you want.  

[the-romantic-lady]

Surprised to hear you like Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou, given that you're a fan of Richard, Duke of York. Isn't that a conflict of interest or something? Lol. What's your opinion on Elizabeth Woodville and the Woodville clan, Margaret Beaufort, Warwick and the Neville clan, and George, Duke of Clarence? (Basically what's your opinion on the rest of the players of the Wars of the Roses lol.)

Gosh, anon you are encouraging me!! I love that you care about my thoughts <3. Alright then, let's start.

I used to be very anti-Margaret of Anjou. Until I started to look at things from her perspective. York was dangerously popular with a lot of children and a formidable wife. Margaret must have felt insecure. Also, there is this theory that Margaret's mentor and confidant William de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk was murdered under the order of the Duke of York. That must have been a tipping point. But I still think that York was the better ruler and person. I will get a lot of hate for this, but women in general were not suitable rulers for the Middle Ages. They were often driven by more personal ideals (Empress Matilda vs. Stephen is a great example and Margaret was no different). Ofc there were men like that too but women seemed to always be like that. As a woman, I understand and the later periods were more suitable for female leadership. York was a much better ruler. He was driven by the stability of the realm rather than his personal issues (he put his own son-in-law in prison and Margaret wouldn't even budge on her failure advisors). And her entitlement was mind-boggling. I love how messed up she was. And Henry...I just feel sorry for him. The Middle Ages also were not a time for artistic and kind kings lol.

Elizabeth Woodville and the Woodville Clan:

As I have said, I pretty much like everyone before 1485 lol. But Elizabeth Woodville was annoying af. That made her interesting but I can't get over how incredibly greedy she was. She was the daughter of a minor gentry and widow of a Lancastrian knight. Edward makes her queen and she abuses that power so much. She has problems with everyone. Warwick, George, Richard, any noble who didn't kiss her arse and even Edward. Queens were meant to level the mind of King. Edward III's queen famously saved French clergy by going on her knees to beg the King for mercy. Ofc that was a bit dramatic but many Queens did this. It was called the Queen's mercy or something like that. But boy was she a hell of a woman. Despite being raised in a pretty privileged household, she was shrewd and survived to the end. She could have learned a thing or two from Cecily Neville about how to put that strong personality to better use but regardless. Also, I love how she was shunned fron Henry Tudor's court when Richard welcomed her to his with open arms. I mean...karma. But all in all, I like her. Its as they say "well behaved women seldom make history". She had flaws (so did the everyone else!) but her character is interesting and admirable. And despite that shaved forehead, she is a gorgeous woman. So I get where Edward was coming from XD The other social climbing members Woodville..not so much. The shameless way that they tried to push themselves in and take hold of power when they had literally fought on the losing Lancastrian side is embarrassing and oh so disgusting. Like Warwick secured the throne for Edward and they were given precedence over him. I just...yeah. John Woodville legit married a 65 year old duchess (he was 19) for money and power. They were a hungry bunch and courting them was Edward IV's biggest mistake and towards the end of his life, I think he saw that.

Margaret Beaufort

I will keep this short since I don't know much about her but I dislike her. I understand that she went through a lot. Her father apparently suicided when she was 1 and that is traumatic. And back then suicide was mocked and disgraced. She ofc blamed the Duke of York....cause at this point why not? She ofc went through a really young and traumatic birth at 13. Her husband was gross and that's that. And we know that Edward kept her son exiled so she couldn't see him. But despite all this, I just don't like her? I suppose its the super impressive Plantagenet women who just make me look at the sleezy and dull Margaret with disdain. And she gives me real phony vibes. Like at times, she just seemed to cosplay Cecily Neville lol. When you see women like Cecily Neville and Margaret of Anjou taking charge in the way they did, Margaret and her deceptive ways are just cringe worthy.

The Earl of Warwick

This man. Just this man. The way that England seemed to revolve around his whims is amazing. He was a real Duke of York stan and so I have to appreciate him. But he was so fearless. Henry VI, Edward IV, Margaret of Anjou, you name it. He stood against them. The Duke of York seemed to be someone he admired but other than that, he fought for himself. He helped Edward take the crown and worked hard to keep Edward's throne. He was embarrassed with the whole secret marriage saga but still stuck by. But Edward clearly forgot who he owed his success too. The man escaped an assassination by Henry VI's men and saved his father and uncle from it. He actually took charge in the first Battle of St. Albans in 1455 because his rivals the Percys were mocking him. I just love him. Ngl, sometimes when I read about him, I just blush. A man if there ever was one. There were so many attempts at disgracing him. He was the Captain of Calais and in that role fought Medieval pirates! And he was ruthless at it. People loved him and he carried that popularity well. I should stop fangirling over a dead guy. I think I made it pretty clear that I love him XD.

Neville clan

I like them too. Warwick's father was pretty much York's best friend and I love him for it. They were also social climbers like the Woodvilles but so much better at it. They didn't have the entitlement that the Woodvilles did and managed their powers well. Cecily Neville was ofc a Neville and she is one of my favorites. One of my favorite thing about them is how courageous they were. Like all of them. Unfortunately, Anne and Isabel are both obscure figures. I wish we knew more about them. They were pushed around like prizes. Good on Richard for giving Anne a position to make her own decision. I feel bad for those girls. Although the York brothers were known to be good looking so lucky them?

George, Duke of Clarence

Ah, George. I love this man. If there was one son of York who inherited his father's glamour and charm, it was George. And I love that he stood up to his brother and sister-in-law. He was sometimes too problematic but I still love that! Glamourous and problematic. How can one not love the man? Although his betrayal of Edward is kind of sad considering that Edward really tried to be like a dad to his brothers. George took Edward's love for granted for too long. His breakdown after his wife's death is really sad too. Interestingly, this seems to be a pattern with the Plantagenet men. They all have breakdowns and downfalls after the death of their wives. Their women are so much stronger emotionally.

I know this was long! I hope you enjoyed the post :D. I would love to know your thoughts too and if you agree or disagree. Seriously, thank you for letting me talk about this. Nothing makes me happier than to discuss these people!

[inkedstarlight]

I Put A Spell On You

Summary: Nesta and Cassian hated each other. Ever since freshman year of college, he'd been nothing but a pain in her ass. Their conversations always ended in screaming matches, and they couldn't agree on a single thing. So why was Nesta so angry to see him with another girl at a Halloween party one night? Cassian quickly picks up on her jealousy and teases her about it, only further infuriating Nesta. Sexual tension, unresolved feelings, and an intense game of truth or dare ensue. Warnings: explicit language, NSFW Read it here on AO3

Lana Del Ray’s “Season of the Witch” was playing quietly in the background as Nesta put on the finishing touches of her makeup. Tossing the mascara on the counter, she took a step back to assess herself in the mirror.

Her lips were a deep red, so dark it was almost black. A golden crescent moon was painted on her forehead, her daring brows arched on each side. Stormy grey eyes were heavily lined with midnight kohl, streaks of black running down her cheeks as if she’d just dragged her acrylic nails down her face. It looked like dripping blood. A golden arm cuff in the figure of a snake curved its way around her bicep, and it was quite possibly Nesta’s favorite part of the entire costume.

And her dress? Her dress was the most elegant thing she’d ever worn. Nesta didn’t even know how to describe it, the layered fabric falling down to the floor, the sleeves black and sheer. All she knew was she felt fucking powerful.

She smirked devilishly at the reflection staring back at her. It was like looking at Hecate herself.

To put it blatantly, Nesta was a whore for Halloween. She loved everything about spooky season: witches, full moons, candy, costumes, horror movies. The frightening, dark atmosphere that ensconced her throughout the entire month of October. Not to mention it was the one of the few holidays that didn’t revolve around family-oriented activities. Needless to say, Nesta was in her element.

Emerie peered her head into the bathroom where Nesta was getting ready. Her smile was wicked as she took in Nesta. “You just took fashionably late to the next level.”

Nesta laughed at her friend’s reaction. “You’re one to talk.”

Emerie was wearing a silky, burgundy robe. It was untied, leaving her tiny black slip in full view. The delicate fabric fell just inches below her waist, and she stood impossibly straight in glittery stilettos. To top it all off, bunny ears protruded from her waves of dark hair. She was a Playboy Bunny, and she looked fucking fantastic.

“How late are we?”

Emerie checked her phone. “About an hour.”

Nesta shrugged and shot her a wink. “It’s always fun to make a bit of an entrance.”

Nesta and Emerie had been close friends since freshman year. Nesta’s roommate was seldom in their room, and Emerie’s roommate was always bringing hookups to her respective room. So, when the two became aware of each other’s unfortunate (albeit convenient) situations, Emerie began staying over at Nesta’s. She would sleep over several nights a week, and it eventually became her room too. It worked perfectly.

Now, as upperclassmen, the duo lived in on-campus apartments. Just them and Minx. AKA the tiny but fierce black cat they rescued just a year prior.

“Guess who I heard is coming?”

Nesta dropped what she was doing to look at her friend. She knew that tone. That tone was always followed by a sinking feeling of dread in her stomach.

She threw Emerie a look. “I swear to the gods if you say Cass –”

“It’s Cassian!” Emerie sang smugly, jazz hands and all.

Nesta groaned. Cassian Bechalot was the bane of her existence. He was a senior, Nesta a junior, and he’d been a pain in her ass from day one. The first day of classes in her freshman year, Nesta had been sitting in her biology lab waiting for the class to begin. Ten minutes after class started, Cassian rushed through the doors in a dramatic entrance. To Nesta’s dismay, he sat next to her. The professor then proceeded to review the syllabus, mentioning the fact that they will be assigned semester-long lab partners. By “assigned,” she meant the person sitting next to you. Nesta had barely held back her groan when Casssian smirked at her and said, “I have a feeling this is going to be my favorite class.” For the next four months, he made Nesta hate biology. Purely because she now associated it with him. Cassian made it his personal mission to annoy the living hell out of her.

Skip to sophomore year. Cassian was adamant on sitting next to her in a lecture they were both enrolled in. Nesta was minding her damn business when he’d looked over her shoulder to catch her reading fanfiction on her laptop. And of course, it wasn’t some innocent story. No, with Nesta’s luck, it had been a smutty-ass fic that was basically porn without a plot. Cassian was unable to contain his laughter, the immature child he was. The professor stopped midsentence to narrow her eyes at his disruption. Nesta remembered it clear as day.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Mr. Bechalot? Since it’s clearly a matter important enough to interrupt my class.”

“Oh, I’d love to,” Cassian had grinned. He nodded his head at Nesta, the latter of whom was red in the face from both embarrassment and anger. “But I don’t think the Mrs. would be very happy with me.”

The class had whopped, some applauding Cassian’s antics.

“Enlighten me.”

He’d shrugged given Nesta a look that said, There’s nothing I can do to stop what’s about to happen.

What a fucking liar.

“Nesta was just getting in her daily dose of fanfiction. It happened to be a particularly…” Cassian paused. The bastard paused for dramatic effect. “… risqué.”

And queue the laughter.

So that was one of many reasons Nesta couldn’t stand him. After that fiasco, countless others followed. Some fiascos were of Nesta’s doing.

What? Nesta couldn’t let him win every time. She had a couple tricks up her sleeve, too. And it’s not like she was going to let him off the hook without facing the consequences.

Emerie was convinced it was some sort of star-crossed lovers shit. She dubbed them an “enemies-to-lovers” slow burn. She was the biggest (and only) advocate for a romantic relationship to blossom between them.

But Nesta? Nesta saw it for what it was.

Pure, unadulterated hatred.

And now he was crashing the party Nesta had been looking forward to all week.

The party was at their friend’s off-campus apartment. There were going to be a lot of people there, but Nesta had seriously doubted he would be invited. At Pryth U, there was an obnoxious division between athletes and the rest of the undergraduates. Nesta loathed the cliquey dynamic. But while the athletes certainly had a reputation, she had many friends who were on the college teams. It was really only the men’s lacrosse team that lived up to their reputation, and Cassian just so happened to be the captain. Who’s surprised?

Cassian had a way of getting in her head, of fueling her already hotheaded temper. Their interactions typically ended in a screaming match. He would tell her to loosen up, and Nesta would tell him to fuck off. He’d make some raunchy joke of it, and she would go off on him. They’d have a staring contest for a couple minutes before continuing to yell obscenities at each other.

Yeah… it wasn’t pretty.

But Nesta was determined to not let it bother her. Tonight was going to be great, Cassian or not.

“Is you-know-who going to be there?” Nesta turned the conversation around, stealing a glance at her roommate.

She scowled. “I don’t know. Even if she was, she doesn’t know my fucking name.”

“You don’t know that,” Nesta countered.

Emerie gave her a pointed look.

Nesta sighed. “Okay, so she doesn’t know your name. Doesn’t mean you can’t introduce yourself tonight.”

Emerie mumbled an incoherent response.

She’d had a crush on a girl named Mor for several months now. Mor had recently transferred from a different university, and she was a fellow junior. Emerie first saw her when she was working one day at the on-campus Starbucks. Whenever Mor came in for a drink, Emerie was sure to be the one to get her order. And she always made Mor’s drink (a medium mocha latte). It was quite adorable when Emerie came home from work to gush about how Mor’s hair was particularly beautiful that day. Adorable and obnoxiously frustrating.

Nesta wasn’t big on love. Sure, her guilty pleasure included romance novels and smutty fanfiction, but that was fiction. In her own life, she hated romantic gestures, declarations of love, and physical affection. She’d never been the type to have crushes or pursue a potential suitor. After watching her parent’s marriage crumble right before her eyes, Nesta didn’t put much thought into romantic relationships. To her, it was work. It took too much effort and from what she’d seen, the outcome was never worth it.

Sometimes, Nesta wasn’t sure if she knew how to love. Sure, she loved her sisters, but that was the extent of it (with the exception of Amren and Emerie). The thought terrified her just as much as it empowered her.

There were rare moments when Nesta would see Amren and Varian laughing together and something in her would ache. For what, she wasn’t sure. Affection, love, trust, acceptance, peace, comfort. All of the above.

“Okay, are we ready to go?” Emerie called to back to Nesta, shaking her from her thoughts. She took one last glance in the mirror before turning the light off.

“Let’s do it.”

The apartment was decorated perfectly. The lights were dim, the atmosphere enticing. Nesta was impressed but not at all surprised at Amren’s immaculate skills as an interior design major. They were friends from high school, and they’d remained thick as thieves since.

The place wasn’t huge, but it had enough space for dancing and drinking and that’s all that mattered. There were probably twenty people in there. The music was dark and thrilling, the bass reverberating in Nesta’s chest as she maneuvered her way through the bodies in the basement.

She recognized most of the people here, only a few unfamiliar faces in the crowd. Amren’s boyfriend, Varian, was in a mermaid costume as he walked around offering people drinks. He caught Nesta’s eye and shot her a grin, his hands gesturing to the coconut shell bra on his chest. She shook her head and chuckled before swiping… candy corn Jell-O shots?

With a grimace, Nesta tilted her head back and swallowed the damn thing.

It was disgusting.

“Nesta!” a familiar voice yelled from behind her. She didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

Rhysand approached her, his strut a little less smooth than normal thanks to the many drinks he must’ve had. But when she saw him, she could barely stop herself from laughing out loud.

He was dressed as an angel. Rhysand fucking Elvert was an angel.

 I’m not drunk enough for this.

He wore a white toga, his tanned chest bare for all the women and men to drool over. Cheap translucent wings protruded from his back, and a golden halo in the form of a headband hung over his head. He was giving her a cheeky smile as he stopped in front of her.

“Nesta, my best friend!” Well, that confirmed his inebriated state. “How are you? More importantly, where’s that sister of yours?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. She should have known he was going to ask about Feyre.

Her younger sister had visited Nesta several times since she started Pryth U a couple years back. They had the unfortunate luck of encountering Rhysand while Nesta was showing Feyre around campus. And of course, as Rhysand does with every living, breathing woman, he tried to woo her with his fuckboy ways. Feyre held her own, but that changed when Nesta brought her to a small dorm party later that night. When Nesta was returning from the bathroom, she found them dancing. Well, dancing was putting it nicely. There was a lot of hip movement to say the least.

After ripping them apart, Nesta threatened Rhys that if he got near her sister again, he was a dead man. Feyre, thoroughly embarrassed, had no other choice but to follow Nesta back to her dormitory. Once in her room, Nesta chastised Feyre for “fraternizing with the enemy.” Nesta had told Feyre stories about Cassian before, so she was up to date on that situation. Feyre didn’t seem to care, claiming that she didn’t even think Rhysand was that attractive.

And though Nesta knew that was a flat-out lie, she let it go.

So, when Feyre visited a semester later, Nesta was careful not to mention her visit to anyone, especially not Rhys. They weren’t friends per se, but her rivalry with Cassian made Rhysand a fixture in her life (one that she never asked for). They would chat during class or in passing, and their relationship was lighthearted. Nothing like the tension between her and Cassian. After the first time Feyre had visited, Rhysand always managed to find a way to bring her up in conversation.

But to Nesta’s dismay, Rhysand had miraculously found out about her visit. Ignoring Nesta’s threat, Rhys shamelessly tried to pursue Feyre for the second time. Even though Nesta was careful not to mention her visit, Rhysand had miraculously found out and pursued her. That time, he blatantly flirted with her right in front of Nesta. But it was more than flirting. Nesta could tell that Rhysand was acting differently than when he flirted with other girls. Nesta had been around him long enough to watch him flirt and seduce many women, and it was different with Feyre. This behavior continued every time Feyre visited, which was just five instances. Yet Rhysand seemed strangely attached to Feyre. Nesta never asked him about it… Gods forbid Rhysand Elvert becomes her brother-in-law.

“She’s great,” Nesta said truthfully. “Just started dating a new guy.”

His face fell for a fraction of a second, so quickly that Nesta could have imagined it. “Does he treat her well?”

“I’ve never met him, but from what she’s told me, yes.”

He seemed to consider this before merely nodding in response.

“Where’s that annoying friend of yours?” Nesta changed the subject.

Why do you care? Nesta could practically hear Emerie’s voice in her head. She ignored it.

“Cassian? That bastard’s somewhere in here.” Rhysand chuckled before he suddenly got excited. “Oh! You’ll never guess what he dressed as.”

Nesta gave him an unamused look. “Let me take a wild guess: the devil.”

Rhysand’s shoulders dropped and he pouted. “You take the fun out of everything.”

“Or perhaps you’re more predictable than you think.”

“Bet you can’t guess what Azriel is.”

Nesta didn’t even have to think twice. “Azriel dressed as Sherlock Holmes because he has a shred of self-respect. As opposed to you two buffoons.”

And because he told me a week ago, Nesta thought to herself.

Rhysand opened his mouth to retort, but he was quickly interrupted.

“Did someone say Cassian Bechalot?”

Nesta’s fists balled tightly at the mere sound of his voice. She plastered on a sickly-sweet smile and turned to face Cassian.

She did her best not waver at the sight of him. Even Nesta couldn't deny that Cassian was an objectively attractive man. She would never admit it, though.

His long hair was disheveled as always, a couple loose strands framing his annoyingly sharp jaw. He wore a deep red dress shirt, and the fabric looked soft as satin. Several buttons were popped to show off a broad chest and his signature golden chain. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal his inked forearms, the collar popped to show off the thick columns of his neck. And of course, red horns stuck out from the obnoxiously inflated head of his.

But what Nesta wasn’t expecting was the woman on his arm. She looked to be about their age, maybe a year younger. She too wore a devil costume but this time it was a small red dress and a face full of beautiful makeup.

Nesta’s fists tightened even more.

Cassian stopped a couple feet in front of her, his eyes slowly dragging up and down her body. Nesta crossed her arms impatiently until his piercing gaze finally met hers.

“So glad I ran into you, sweetheart," he purred at her. Gods, him and that insufferable nickname. She could choke him. "What do you think of my costume?"

“It suits you,” Nesta replied sarcastically. Then she added, “You guys make quite the couple.”

Cassian frowned, but Nesta paid no mind to him.

“Oh, we didn’t even come here together!” piped in the woman. She gave Cassian a seductive look. “But I certainly hope we’ll be going home together.”

Nesta didn’t bother to hide her distaste. It wasn’t directed toward the friendly woman, rather at the bastard at her side. The obnoxiously sexy bastard.

“Let me guess…” Cassian tapped a finger on his chin thoughtfully. Nesta made a show of rolling her eyes. “Hecate?”

 What?

She hadn't expected that.

Nesta did her best to contain her surprise. “You know who Hecate is?”

“Ouch, you didn’t have to say it like that. You wound me, sweetheart.”

She raised a threatening brow. He chuckled deeply and raised his hands in surrender.

"Maybe I'm not as stupid as you think I am."

Nesta snorted. “That’s highly unlikely."

He tilted his head to the side, peering closer at her. “You’re particularly feisty today, aren’t you?”

“I swear to the gods, Cassian, I will rip your head off.”

All he did was laugh her off. If he only knew how serious she was...

Nesta was just about to walk away when Cassian turned to the woman at his side. “Arlia, can you leave us alone for a second?” he grinned mischievously. “I’ll find you after.”

Arlia giggled and nodded, dragging a finger down his arm as she walked away. Leaving Cassian and Nesta alone.

 Great.

Cassian didn't waste a second, closing the distance between them. He loomed several inches above her, something Nesta detested about him. He was large, tall, purely male. Nesta got a whiff of his scent, and she hated how much she loved the smell of him. He always wore the same cologne, not enough to overwhelm but enough to leave Nesta wanting more.

Ugh. He truly was the devil incarnate.

“Is that jealousy I sense?” Cassian clicked his tongue, humor flashing in his hazel eyes.

Nesta choked at his words. "As if."

It was a weak comeback, and she knew it.

He got even closer, their bodies just inches apart now. “Why do you even care who I spend my time with, Nesta? You hate me on a good day.”

“Maybe,” Nesta countered, “that’s because you do nothing but make my life as miserable as possible.”

The temperature in the room seemed to increase several degrees as Nesta stared up at him in contempt. Something unreadable crossed his face as he raised a hand and caressed her cheek, the warmth of his fingers sending tingles to her feet.

“Why do you insist on pushing me away?" Cassian asked, searching her eyes. She was frozen, her throat constricted.

 Because you terrify me.

Nesta shoved that thought deep down before she could even comprehend it, as far as it could possibly go.

"Tell me," Cassian breathed, pushing for an answer. "Is it so hard to admit that maybe I'm not as bad as you want me to be?"

 Yes.

Nesta was nearly trembling, her mouth unable to form a single word. She could only stare up at him with wide eyes and parted lips as he pushed her limits.

"Is it so hard to admit that maybe, just maybe, you actually like me?"

 Enough.

Nesta snapped.

“Like you? Fuck that, Cassian! You walk around campus like you’re the most desirable man on earth,” Nesta fumed, just the sight of him enough to boil her blood. “You treat women like shit, you humiliate me at least once a month, and you’re only at Pryth U thanks to some athletic scholarship.”

Her voice had gotten louder and people were definitely watching them, but she didn’t give a shit.

Cassian’s eyes darkened at her words, and he got another step closer, forcing Nesta’s back against the cool edge of the table behind her. He rested both hands on each side of her body and caged her in. She didn’t dare back down, levelling his hard glare.

“Do you think I’m desirable, Nesta?” he asked menacingly, his voice low. Quiet enough for only her to hear and demanding enough to get an answer.

Nesta suddenly became hyperaware of Cassian’s body so close to hers. She could see his chest moving up and down, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His bicep brushed against her arm sending a shot of electricity through her body.

Nesta didn’t know what to say. She could only stand there and watch as Cassian huffed out a humorless laugh after a couple moments passed.

“Do you know how hypocritical you are?” Cassian asked, pulling his body away from hers and leaving Nesta with a cold feeling. He raised his voice with frustration. “No one knows who Nesta Archeron is. No, they only know you by the ‘Ice Queen.’ You sit on your damn throne and look at everyone like they’re below you. What’s so great about you, Nesta, huh? Because I’ve known you for years and still haven’t been able to find a single redeeming quality.”

He practically yelled the last sentence. She wanted to cry, throw something at him, walk away, scream until she lost her voice. But she didn't do anything. Nesta just stared at him as everything in her shut down until she just... stopped. Numbness overtook her.

Cassian was watching her, his chest heaving. Something like regret flashed over his face.

Nesta blinked, shattering the little world her and Cassian were in, looking past him and into the adjoining room.

Everyone was staring at them with wide eyes and open mouths. The entire apartment was silent, and it was painfully clear that every single person had just heard them fight.

 Just my fucking luck.

Nesta didn’t pay attention to anyone as she stormed off. As far away from him as possible.

She heard Varian tell everyone to mind their own business before blasting the music. The onlookers were happy to oblige and just like that, they were dancing without a care in the world.

Amren was leaning against the glass door that led to the outdoor patio when Nesta rushed outside for air. She heard her friend follow her from behind.

It was calmer out here, the loud bass of the music fading into the background. The moon was full, and that gave Nesta a small piece of solace.

She collapsed onto a plastic chair, her body sinking down. She didn't have to say a word as Amren held out a bottle of Tito's.

Nesta took it from her and didn’t even think as she took several gulps of the vodka. Her throat burned with every swallow, eyes watering. She took a final swig and gave it back to Amren, wiping her mouth and grimacing.

“So…” Amren started, glancing over at Nesta who was looking down at the ground. “Should we talk about what just happened in there?"

"No."

Amren got quiet and the two simply sat in silence. Nesta closed her eyes, relishing the cold breeze that washed over her face. She could smell the remnants of a bonfire from Amren's neighbors next door. After a few minutes, Amren straightened and held her hand out to Nesta.

“C’mon. We’re gonna dance.”

It wasn't a question. And Nesta wasn't about to say no and risk getting into an argument with Amren. Gods knew how taxing that would be. Anyway, the alcohol was already beginning to course through her blood. She would be on the dance floor in the next twenty minutes either way.

As Nesta took Amren's hand and retreated back inside, a feeling of euphoria began to enter her body. She happily invited it.

Nesta didn’t know how long they danced for. Long enough for her hair to stick to the back of her neck and her throat to be parched. Long enough for "Toxic" by Britney Spears to have played enough times and gotten stuck in her head.

But not long enough for her to forget about the events that took place just minutes prior to downing that vodka.

She signaled to Amren that she was going to get some water. Her friend only nodded her head and continued rolling her hips to the beat.

As Nesta poured herself a cup of water, she scanned the room. She scanned it until she found who she was looking for.

Nesta locked eyes with Cassian from across the room. She hadn't been thinking of him much as she and Amren danced to every song that played. He was on the outskirts of the dancing crowd. Him and Arlia. The song was loud, fast. And yet his hands were snug around Arlia’s waist, hers stroking his chest as they swayed slowly. Not an inch separated their bodies.

She couldn’t read the emotion in his eyes. His face was blank.

Nesta held his stare until he broke away.

To kiss Arlia.

And he didn’t just kiss her. It wasn’t an innocent peck. He pulled her into him, capturing her lips with his own. Nesta watched as Arlia gripped the collar of his shirt and molded her body into his, their hips grinding together.

Cassian opened his eyes even as he continued to kiss Arlia. He looked directly at Nesta as his mouth moved against another woman’s. Nesta fought the urge to go up to him and smack him across the gods-damn face.

She failed.

But before she could even take a step, someone grabbed her arm from behind. She looked behind her shoulder.

Amren.

“You don’t want to do that, Ness,” Amren told her with a hard tone.

“But – ”

“But nothing,” Amren interrupted Nesta, her words final. “How about we do something to take your mind off it?” She didn’t even wait for her answer before calling over her boyfriend. “Varian!”

Just like a loyal puppy, Varian appeared at her side in a second, the end of his mermaid tale dragging on the floor. “What’s up, love?”

“Nesta needs a good distraction,” she explained, gesturing not-so-subtly to where Cassian stood. “Thoughts?”

Varian’s eyes brightened and he didn’t even hesitate before miraculously yelling over the deafening music, “Truth or dare!”

Amren threw her hands up with a groan and gave him an exasperated look as if to say, Are we thirteen years old?

But it was too late. Everyone around them was already cheering and chanting Varian's name.

Nesta levelled a look at her best friend.

Amren raised her palms up. “Hey, it’ll keep you from strangling Cassian to death,” she pointed out the silver lining.

Nesta couldn’t argue with that, so she begrudgingly followed her friend to the couch. A big group of people followed them from behind.

Five minutes later, everyone was situated into a large circle. Some were sprawled on the furniture while others sat on the floor. All of them were happily drunk and way too enthusiastic to be playing truth or dare.

“Truth or dare?” Amren started, her question directed at Azriel who was sitting a couple people away from Nesta. He was dressed as Sherlock, just as he’d told her he would.

“Dare.”

Thus began an entertaining game of truth or dare. Azriel had to do a body shot off of Rhys. Rhys had to give Helion a lap dance. Helion was forced to let Lucien do his face makeup. Lucien had to take off Mor’s socks with his teeth. Mor had to make an obscene call to a random phone number. Emerie chose truth and was forced to reveal her wildest sex fantasy (a drunken Mor offered to make that dream a reality).

Halfway into the game, Nesta had shed herself of her gown, leaving her in only a small black dress she'd put on underneath in case she got warm. It was a combination of the body heat, alcohol, and tension between her and Cassian.

The entire game, Nesta did her best to avoid eye contact with Cassian. He was sitting directly across from her in the circle, Arlia at his side. Nesta was doing fine, enjoying their childish antics until it was Emerie’s turn to ask someone.

Nesta wasn’t completely surprised when her friend turned to her and asked, “Truth or dare?”

Nesta saw the mischievous look on Emerie’s face as she proposed the question. She had no fucking idea what she had planned, but there was no way Nesta was falling into her trap.

“Truth,” Nesta decided to play it safe.

But then Cassian had to open his fucking mouth.

“Boring,” he said loudly, faking a yawn.

Nesta turned her head to face him for the first time during the game. Her heart pounded at the sight of him. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, holding his chin in his hands as he scrutinized her. His eyes were glossy, and he was clearly drunk like the rest of them.

“It’s in the name of the game.”

“Or maybe you’re just scared,” Cassian countered.

“I’m not,” Nesta gritted her teeth, staring him down.

Cassian merely raised a brow as if to say, Sure, you aren’t.

No one said anything.

“Fine,” Nesta snapped just to spite him. “Dare.”

Cassian smiled triumphantly and sat back as Emerie clapped with excitement.

"Give her a good one!" someone called out.

Emerie turned back to Nesta with a troubled look and mouthed, Forgive me.

Forgive her? What the fuck was she talking about –

“I dare you to kiss Cassian.”

Nesta stopped breathing.

The entire room was silent as everyone stared at Nesta, gauging her reaction. She felt Cassian's eyes on her.

Nesta broke the silence and burst out laughing, a snort leaving her nose. A very unattractive snort. “You think I’m going to kiss him?”

Others around the circle laughed nervously, unsure where this was going to go.

She looked across the circle to see Cassian staring at her. But where she was expecting a smug smile was a clenched jaw and burning eyes.

You’re not scared, huh? he mouthed at her silently. He was mocking her.

In your dreams, she snapped back.

Cassian crooked his finger to draw Nesta closer. "C'mere."

She snorted. Again. “If you want to do this dare, you’re the one coming to me.”

Only a couple feet separated them from opposite sides of the circle. It was petty, but she didn't care.

He looked at her incredulously. “Really, sweetheart?”

Nesta shrugged. Cassian narrowed his eyes in response.

“No.”

He was just as stubborn as her. A couple people around the circled groaned – they knew the beginning of a Nesta-Cassian stand-off when they saw one.

“Are you guys really fighting about who has to walk the five steps it takes to get to each other?” Emerie asked, astounded. Neither of them answered.

“Why don’t you meet in the middle of the circle?” Varian suggested meekly.

“No,” they both snapped at the same time, glaring at one another when they realized they said the same thing.

Another minute passed of them staring each other down.

Cassian was the first to speak again. “If you don’t come over here, you won’t finish the dare.”

Nesta gritted her teeth. He was right. She fucking hated when he was right.

 Just get it over with.

“Fine,” she seethed, standing up from the floor. She turned to Amren. “Give me another shot. I’m not drunk enough for this.”

The last thing Nesta wanted was the memory of kissing Cassian tomorrow morning. She shuddered at the thought.

“Make that two,” Cassian added.

Amren returned just a second later with a full shot glass in each hand. Neither Cassian nor Nesta hesitated as they downed the drink.

Nesta willed her legs to move, her stride confident despite the overwhelming feeling that she was going to fall thanks to her wobbly knees. Cassian’s feet were flat on the floor as he sat on the edge of the sofa. Nesta didn’t allow herself to falter for a second as she straddled Cassian and sat on his lap, their faces just inches away.

The crowd whooped and whistled. Nesta ignored it.

Nesta was already intoxicated by his scent, but she did her best to ignore it. Cassian gripped her hips to keep her balanced on him, his touch burning into her skin. She was eye-level with him, their faces inches away. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek, and chills went down her arms.

Something in Nesta ignited when Cassian subtly rubbed his thumb over her hip under the fabric of her dress. He seemed to sense the change in her, his nostrils flaring as he moved his thumb over her skin again, leaving a burning trail in its wake.

The world fell away. It was just them. Nesta’s lips involuntarily parted when Cassian’s other hand rested on her bare thigh. His fingers inched higher and higher, and Nesta opened her legs slightly wider. Cassian exhaled a harsh breath.

The spot between her legs was molten hot, her legs numb with pleasure. She slid her hand over his shoulder, and she traced the thick columns of his neck with her manicured nails. He tilted his head for her, and Nesta wanted nothing more than to lick and bite and suck his bare neck.

 What the fuck is he doing to me?

All of Nesta’s reservations fell away as she grinded her ass in his lap, unnoticeable to anyone watching, but enough to feel Cassian’s hardness slide under her core. His eyes flashed to hers. Nesta had never seen a man look at her the way he was.

Then, so fast that he didn’t even know what was happening, Nesta leaned in and pressed her lips against his. Cassian tried to deepen the kiss, but Nesta pulled away and was out of his lap before he could do anything to stop it.

She threw her hands up and threw a smirk over her shoulder at Cassian. “I did it!”

Everyone cheered, laughter filling the room as Nesta started walking back to her respective seat.

But she didn’t get far.

“Are fucking with me?” Cassian seethed from behind her. She turned around to face him.

His jaw was clenched with anger. His whole demeanor had changed, his presence threatening. Nesta watched as his fists clenched and unclenched, Cassian's telltale sign that he was not happy.

“Aw, were you expecting a date too?” Nesta cooed at him sarcastically.

 Point for Nesta.

People laughed, but Cassian boomed, "That's it," silencing everyone else. Including Nesta.

He walked straight toward her with purpose. Nesta gasped as he carefully but firmly grabbed her by the nape of the neck, his other hand splaying across the small of her back to bring their bodies together. Their lips brushed together, and Nesta's long golden hair provided a small curtain of privacy from the onlookers.

Cassian's breath smelled of whiskey, and it nearly consumed her. She looked up into his eyes and let out a breath of air. A growl released from his throat.

"Fuck it," he murmured before crushing his lips to hers.

Nesta's hand instinctively reached for him, her fingers curling in the soft tufts of his dark hair. Cassian moaned into her mouth, opening his lips and deepening the kiss. Nesta could barely stand, her tongue moving against his in a seductive, wet dance. She tasted the alcohol on him, and she became further drunk on him. Cassian curled his arm around her waist to hold her up, consequently pressing their bodies harder together. Nesta's nipples pebbled through the thin fabric of her dress as her breasts ground against his broad chest. He nibbled on her bottom lip, teasing her, driving her mad with need. She let out a whimper, and she felt Cassian's lips turn up in a satisfied smile as they continued to kiss roughly.

A loud cough had them pulling away from each other.

Nesta's cheeks turned bright red when she realized they were still standing in the middle of the circle, their friends looking up at them with horror and confusion and excitement and disbelief. She looked back at Cassian whose lips were swollen from their kisses. He didn't seem to care that there were people around them, his eyes locked solely on her.

"So... uh, I think it's Nesta's turn to ask," Rhysand said dumbly, staring up at her like she had two heads.

The last thing Nesta wanted to do was sit back down and play truth or dare. No, she wanted to drag Cassian upstairs and finish what they -

"No can do," Cassian said plainly, grabbing Nesta's hand and pulling her with him as he made his way to the stairs. "We have some unfinished business."

Well, at least Cassian was on the same page as her for the first time.

Nesta didn't even look behind her as she willingly followed Cassian up the stairs and into a more private room.

He opened the first door they passed by, revealing the guest bedroom. Nesta walked inside, and he closed and locked the door behind them.

Nesta's mind was racing. What did they just do? Why did she let him kiss her like that?

"Stop."

Nesta looked up from her hands to where Cassian stood. He had a determined look on his face.

"Stop what?"

"Overthinking this."

Gods, he saw right through her.

"We shouldn't have done that," Nesta said quietly.

"Why?" Cassian pushed.

"We hate each other." Why did it sound like she was trying to convince herself of that?

"Do we?"

The question hung in the air as neither one of them said anything. Nesta sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed her arms.

"Maybe not hate, but... we can't even stand each other," Nesta let out. She glanced over at him. "It's not like we have feelings for each other."

Cassian didn't say anything. She scoffed.

"You're telling me that you can honestly say you've thought of me in that sort of way?"

"Every fucking day, sweetheart."

Nesta's heart stopped. "I'm serious."

"Me too," he told her. His lips were set in a straight line, his eyes piercing into hers.

"Please, Cass," she said, using the nickname she so rarely used for him. "You fuck other women every week. You've despised me since day one. There's no way in hell."

"I don't hate you, Nesta," he said quietly. She watched as he walked over and took a seat in the rocking chair that faced her. He hesitated before continuing. "I hate how much I fucking think about you. I wake up and my first thought is, 'I wonder what Nesta's doing right now.' I go through my days hoping to run into you." He dragged his hands down his face and laughed at himself. "But you fucking infuriate me, woman. Our conversations are never pleasant. You're the most difficult person I've ever met."

 Oh Gods.

"And as for the women..." he sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm telling you this."

Nesta waited for him to continue.

Cassian raised his head from his hands and looked her straight in the eye. "I only fuck other women because I can't get you out of my damn head. Because I've never felt this passionate about anyone. Because you confuse the living hell out of me."

He had to be lying. It was Cassian. There was no way he cared for her. She'd seen him look at her all these years, and there had never once been an indicator of such feelings. And of course he was passionate about her: he hated her! Passion wasn't necessarily a good thing.

"What do you possibly think could happen between us?" she asked with an exasperated look. She didn't wait for him to answer. "The only time this," Nesta gestured between them, "could ever happen again is a year from now."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "This," she moved her hand around. "Halloween. The one day you can pretend to be someone you're not."

"I don't understand what you're saying."

"You and I would never work, Cassian." The words cut through her as she choked them out.

"Why do you keep lying to yourself?" Cassian asked.

"I'm not! We know nothing about each other. We treat each other like shit. It would explode in our faces."

“We don't know anything about each other?" he echoed quietly, a small laugh leaving his lips. "How do you think I knew you were Hecate?"

Nesta didn't say anything. Where was he going with this?

"Maybe,” he started, “it’s because I’ve heard you mention her more times than I can count. Maybe I looked her up one day and read all about her. Maybe I think she's a fucking badass.

"You think we don't know anything about each other? Here are some things you don't know about me: I started that web comic you never shut up about. I finished it in a week, and I wrote down all my favorite parts in case we ever talk about it one day. You have a black cat named Minx, and you even have custom made socks with his picture on it. You want to study creative writing, but you're scared you won't make it as an author." He paused. "You try to hide everything inside, but I can tell how much you feel, Nesta. You aren't heartless, you aren't insensitive. You're just... scared. To trust."

Nesta hadn't told him any of that. Not directly, at least. But he listened. He'd always been listening. Her heart was pounding in her ears as Cassian finally met her gaze with soft eyes. She was terrified, but she held eye contact with him, refusing to look away. This man... he didn't hate her. He never had.

Nesta didn't realize tears were running down her face until her vision blurred and Cassian's face was out of focus.

Fuck. She hated crying, especially in front of people. Especially in front of him.

She dropped her face in her hands to hide her tears. She couldn't see what was happening but just a second later, she felt the bed sink down with another weight. Warm hands grasped her body, pulling her into a hard body. Cassian leaned down to brush his lips against her ear.

"Sweetheart," he whispered. Nesta didn't say anything. "Look at me."

His gentle voice melted something within her. She tried to inconspicuously wipe her tears before lifting her head up and meeting his gaze.

His lips turned up in a small smile, and he brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Cassian put two fingers under her chin and lifted her face up until their lips touched in the gentlest kiss she'd ever had.

This time, Nesta didn't hesitate as she kissed Cassian back.

------------------

tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed!): @sjmships​ @sleeping-and-books​ @sirgwaines​ @books-for-sure​ @blowing-mikey​ @b00kworm​ @wineywitch202​ @drielecarla​ @liquifyme​ @gisellefigue08​ @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter​ @loysydark​ @stardelia​ @sayosdreams​ @maastrash​ @superspiritfestival​ @courtofjurdan​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​

[oss-crime]

Chapter 2-Project “Ma” –Eve–; Scene 4

Original Sin Story: Crime, pages 37-48

Seth’s wound wasn’t too bad, but for safety’s sake he wound up receiving treatment at a hospital in the Twelve Royal Capitals.

He got on one of the huge automated carriages of the security force and went back with the soldier driving it.

Adam wound up staying in the village of Nemu for a time along with his bodyguard, Gammon.

Naturally their goal was to search for the “Witch of the Forest”.

And Eve…she served as their guide when the two headed out to the Forest of Held, as well as their driver for the carriage.

The fee they paid her for this service had far greater profit to her than her income selling ingredients from the forest, so she had no reason to refuse.

Eve knew of several of the villages where the people of the forest lived, and so she first took the two of them to those.

And then they tried going around to the places where the witch was rumored to be, or just moved through aimlessly.

But the days passed without achieving any particular result.

.

That day as well the three of them had been advancing along a forest path with the automated carriage.

The sky was overcast with thick clouds. When Eve suggested that it might rain, Adam replied that they perhaps ought to end things early today.

“That aside, you’re quite skilled with driving the automated carriage, Eve,” Adam complimented. “You must be, to move so smoothly through such narrow pathways.”

“It’s no big deal if you’re used to it. But as you’d expect you can’t get to the deeper parts of the forest with a carriage.”

“Still, people would seldom be going in such places. So they’re not likely to be targets of the tribesmen, and thus there’s a low chance of the witch showing up there.”

Putting together the information that Adam and Gammon had been able to obtain up until now, the Witch of the Forest would apparently make her appearances in public to rescue people attacked by the white army.

But strangely, none of the people who had been rescued by her could remember what this witch looked like.

“She has green hair, is a woman, fires lightning from a blue spoon…And that’s all they can remember, oddly enough.”

“They’re all probably in a state of shock from being attacked by the white army, so that’s understandable isn’t it?”

“I wonder. Maybe…this witch can use a spell that manipulates people’s minds.”

Upon hearing that, Eve’s eyes widened for a moment. Then she quickly chuckled. “That’d be pretty convenient, if there really were such a spell. I’d control all the big-wigs into making me the queen.”

“Haha, I guess so. You could have all the wealth and influence you want…Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“I’ve been raised in a village of sorcerers for over twenty years, but not once, no. Do you know of anything, Adam? You’re seem pretty well educated.”

“I’ve hardly done any studies on magic.”

“Huh…That’s a bit surprising. Don’t you have all this magical potential?”

“I only learned that relatively recently.”

As the two of them talked, Gammon simply looked around at their surroundings without showing the least amount of interest in their conversation.

Over these past few days Eve had been able to learn quite well that taken favorably he was a man who was very dedicated to his work, but taken unfavorably he was a very strait-laced person with little flexibility.

Adam was also a bit too serious, but he at least was easy to get along with.

Among the people who had come over from the capital there were some every now and then who would look down upon a country bumpkin like Eve. But Adam never showed any sign of such behavior.

From what she’d heard, while he was currently living in the Twelve Royal Capitals, originally he had been raised on the coast west from there.

“Just like you…I was an orphan.”

Apparently when he was a child he had been able to make a living and fend off starvation by hunting fish in the sea.

“One day a man suddenly appeared before me. He took me back to his home in the royal capital, and adopted me as his son. Even now I’m not sure why he did that. After that I received an education as a student under my adoptive father—Horus Solntse.”

“Did you…not have any parental figures until then?”

At Eve’s question, Adam responded without hesitation, “I did have a mother. …Though she was a whale.”

“Eh?”

“Ever since I can remember, that white whale had always been by my side. She watched over me…Or so I always thought. Though she never did anything to actually help me, ha ha.”

“…”

“Do you think my story is strange?”

“Mm, nooo…” Eve shook her head, and then replied earnestly, “I’m positive that whale must have been the manifestation of a spirit.”

“A spirit?”

“There are a lot of them in this forest; spirits that take the form of animals. Robins, chipmunks…I can’t talk to them, but I know of them.”

“I see…”

Adam listened in to Eve’s story, offering neither affirmations or denial.

“I too…had times when I was a child where I felt unbearably lonely. My adoptive mother and father were very kind people. But of course they weren’t my real parents…I couldn’t stand that.”

“…I understand that feeling.”

“In the middle of the night I ran out of the village and into the forest. But it was pitch-black, and I couldn’t tell my left from my right…I sat down alone and started crying. And then…it appeared.”

Eve’s shoulders faintly shook.

A drop of water fell from the sky and hit her face.

It had started to rain. There was no roof on this carriage.

Eve stopped the carriage under the shade of a large tree to keep from getting soaked.

“It?” Adam asked.

“A bear. A frightening bear…Here, look.”

Eve suddenly rolled up her skirt.

Adam unthinkingly moved to avert his eyes at catching sight of her bare skin.

But when he noticed the large scar on her thigh, he regained his composure.

“It bit you?”

“Because it was hungry. A little bit longer and I would have ended my life inside that bear’s stomach. But at that moment—the animals of the forest all attacked the bear at once. And they saved me.”

“And so they…were spirits of the forest.”

“I never saw a bear in this forest again. The spirits might have gotten rid of them, or else directed me so that I never got close to one…In any case, the spirits are my friends, and I owe them my life.”

Eve had never really told that story to anyone.

That was because anyone who didn’t know much about the forest in particular would likely think it was just a silly tall tale.

But in that drizzling rain Adam listened to her speak with a serious countenance. Conversely, Eve started to regret having told him.

Thinking on his goals…It would be only natural for him to start to hold some doubts towards Eve, upon hearing that story.

“Eve. So you really are—"

Before Adam could continue speaking, they could suddenly hear a loud explosion from far off.

“--!?”

They all turned over there at once.

…There was smoke coming from the direction of Nemu village.

“—What’s happened!?” Gammon shouted as he whipped out the sword at his hip.

What came to Eve’s mind was the white army.

They had never once attacked the village directly…And yet, she couldn’t think of anything else it could be.

As though in support of that, several tribesmen wielding weapons appeared from the shadows of the trees and circled the carriage.

“Oh, we’re not letting you get back to the village,” said a woman standing in the center of the tribesmen, glowering at Eve and the others.

Gammon had swiftly leapt down from the carriage, and shifted his piercing gaze to the woman.

“You must be the commander of the white army…The ‘White Fiend of Jakoku’.”

“Oh my. How impressive, that you know of my illustrious title…Your henchmen serve you well, it seems.” Gammon asked her if she had come here as payback for what happened on the plains, but Raisa shook her head. “Though there is a little of that, yes. This is more—a test.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I…Or rather, all of us, are planning to let loose much bigger fireworks after this.”

Giving no indication that she would explain any further, Raisa and her cohorts started to steadily draw closer to the carriage, weapons at the ready.

“You louts, tread cautiously! This military bastard looks pretty tough. Not to mention—” Raisa glared at Eve. “—He’s traveling with the ‘Witch of the Forest’, too.”

As though in response to those words, Eve got down from the carriage and stood next to Gammon.

“…You seem to be under a misunderstanding. I’m not a witch.”

Eve maintained a calm demeanor, but in response to that Raisa laid bare her anger.

“Don’t bullshit me! Countless of my people have been reduced to ashes by you!”

The moment she spoke, Raisa ran towards Eve.

Pale fire curled around the long and thin weapon she held in both hands.

These flames were not put out by the rain; they were likely some type of magic, or else produced by a unique power she had.

“…”

Eve glanced briefly at Adam, still inside the carriage.

He looked like he had something he wanted to say to Eve.

She didn’t have time to hesitate now.

First…she would need to do something about the enemy in front of her.

And she was worried about the village, too.

--Eve took out the spoon she’d kept hidden on her person.

A blue spoon. The item that was publicly referred to as the wand of the Witch of the Forest. For Eve it was a memento that she’d received from her adoptive mother.

She turned it toward Raisa, who was still heading towards her.

And then—expressionlessly, and concisely, she chanted a short spell phrase.

“Medvedi ubit!”

And it was all over.

It was a lightning spell she had been taught by her adoptive father.

A large bolt of lightning shot from the spoon, and then Raisa and her underlings in their entirety were swallowed up in a flash of light.

.

--The lightning strike that had engulfed the area had no effect on the trees of the forest or the animals.

It was the same with Adam and Gammon who were nearby Eve.

The lightning spell could only burn up that which it had been fired at. And after the flash of light went away, all of the tribesmen that had been surrounding the carriage had been reduced to charred corpses.

…No, there was one exception.

Raisa must have taken the direct brunt of the lightning, and yet despite her body having sustained massive burns she was still clinging to life.

“Wow…I’m surprised. That’s the first time anyone’s taken that shot and lived.” Eve looked down on Raisa with a cold expression.

“Y…you bitch…”

Gammon pressed down on Raisa’s body as she tried to crawl into the forest to escape.

“What an unexpected bounty, to be able to capture the head of the white army. For now let’s get her to the village—”

As he turned his face to the village, Gammon stopped speaking.

There was still smoke rising from that direction.

Eve quickly got back into the carriage and put her hand on the control crystal.

But Adam gripped her thin arm.

“The village will be dangerous. The bulk of the white army is probably attacking it now.”

“That’s why we have to go help my father and the others!”

Gammon tossed something at the carriage as it started to move.

Adam caught the weapon.

“This is…”

It was the peculiarly shaped sword that Raisa had been carrying.

“Take it! It should serve as some protection,” Gammon shouted to Adam. “I can’t let Raisa get away. You’ll have to go on your own!”

His words were in a sense an abandonment of his responsibilities as bodyguard, but under the circumstances he must have judged there was nothing more he could do.

Or maybe he was dazzled by the potential for glory that had fallen before him.

Eve didn’t care which it was.

Whatever the case, she was focused on the situation in the village now.

Though I can’t imagine my father would be done in by the white army so easily…

The residents of the village of Nemu were a band of once famous sorcerers.

Even so, Eve couldn’t help the unease in her chest.

The carriage started to race, Adam sitting beside her.

And in this way they advanced at full speed along the forest path, headed for the village.

<<prev------directory------next>>