#he feels like he’s lost his faith and fallen back to what he was

[wildsaltair]

I am not immune to the charms of beaten, bedraggled, post-pyrrhic-victory gunfighter-turned-preacher-turned-sheriff Cort

[gumified]

PRICE TO PAY

pairing: god!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary: you had prayed and prayed for the drought to finally end, for the village to finally be granted rain, so when meeting one of the gods you strike a deal and pay the price.

content: 4.4k, smut, pwp, big dick!gojo, virgin!reader, praise, degradation, dirty talk, cunnilingus (fem. receiving), ice play, bondage, gagging, fingering, squirting, orgasm control, overstimulation, public but also not public sex

note: have fun :D

The heat beat down on your face as you walked up the hill, buckets of water straining your shoulders. Your throat was parched and you were drenched in sweat. You were so thirsty it was unbearable. It had been months since the last rain and the nearest stream was miles away. Your village had long since lost hope, abandoning their faith in the gods. But not you. You knew they were up there. You believed they would help.

While everyone else assumed the drought would eventually end, as it had before, you couldn’t wait. Your brother was so young; he might not survive much longer. Water was life and without it survival was impossible.

“Hey, Ren.” You forced a smile for your brother. His face was flushed, and his clothes were tattered. “Come on, you need to drink this.”

Ren coughed, struggling to sit up. “Y/n, you’re back.”

“Yeah.” You brought the bowl closer to his lips, urging him to drink. He sipped weakly. “How have you been feeling?”

“I feel really hot.” You felt his forehead and sighed when you felt it even warmer than before. The fever he had was burning through his body. Ren wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging on you tightly. “Y/n you won’t leave me will you? Not like mum and dad.”

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, you felt your heart break a little. “Of course I won’t leave you. You’re gonna be stuck with me for the rest of your life, promise.” He grinned, giggling. There’s a small bit of you that wished that this would end soon but you knew better. 

“I love you Y/n.” Ren mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you too Ren.” 

You were shaken awake and you nearly screamed when you caught sight of a beautiful face in front of you. His jaw was perfectly chiselled and his lips were plump, kissable almost. You felt your cheeks flushed. His eyes were what captured you most of all. Sapphire swirls painted his eyes, you felt yourself being pulled towards him. 

“You mortals really do sleep like - what’s the saying? Oh yes - like the dead.” His sneer transformed his handsome features into something far more menacing. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to spend the night at a temple?”

“I-I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep by accident.” You tried to move away but it was like an invisible force was keeping you from moving your limbs. He smirked, crawling closer to you so that you were inches apart. “W-Who are you?”

“Little mortal doesn’t know who I am.” His tongue flicked over his lips. “You’re in my temple, little one.”

"Y-Your temple…" The cogs in your brain turned and you let out a frightened gasp. "Y-You're a God."  

He grinned, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Smarter than you look. It's Y/n isn't it?" Words failed you and you felt your throat grow dry. He twisted a strand of your hair around his finger. "You've been praying for a heavy rain season for weeks. How could I not remember your name." 

"Does that mean you'll help me?" 

"I'm afraid the weather is in my brother's domain. I control the oceans, mortal." 

"I know who you are, Satoru Gojo, God of the oceans and earthquakes. Your brother controls the sky and its weather." You said meekly, feeling your cheeks burn at how close he was. The tapestries had always depicted him as a handsome man with bulging muscles. But something about seeing him in real life had you so enamoured. 

Satoru smirked, the blue in his eyes growing even brighter. His body glowed with a soft, golden aura. You gulped, unable to meet his gaze. "And yet you knew that, but still came to pray to me every day, making sacrifices as well."

"W-Well they say you're the most generous s-so I thought…"

"You thought I would help you?" Satoru cocked his head to the side. "Don't you know everything comes with a price?" 

"And I'm willing to pay that price." 

A silent pause passed between the two of you before a smirk crept up on Satoru’s face. You noticed his eyes grow darker, the bright pigment transformed into a much more seductive hue.

“My, my, little mortal’s brave.” You felt his eyes trailing over your body and you felt like you’re being hunted. “So you’ll do anything?” His fingers brushed over your thigh teasingly. You nodded. 

A wicked grin spread across his face. You squeaked in surprise when his mouth collided onto yours. The intoxicating scent of the ocean filled your senses and your eyes fluttered shut. Satoru’s lips moved ferociously against yours, it made you feel dizzy yet they tasted sweet at the same time. You could taste the sugary taste of leftover ambrosia as he delved into your wet cavern, tongue exploring each and every crevice. 

Your arms remained by your side, unsure of what to do. But when Satoru tugged you forward, they wrapped around him tightly, and you felt him smirk. Your hands wandered over his rippling muscles, trying to carve the feeling into your memory. He bit down on your bottom lip, drawing the slightest bit of blood.

The taste of your own blood mingled with the sweetness of ambrosia, created a heady mixture that made you gasp. Satoru pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Everything comes with a price, little one." He murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. "Are you sure you're willing to pay it?"

You nodded, breathless and trembling. "Anything, just please help us."

Satoru's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker. "Very well, mortal. But remember, once a deal is struck with a god, there's no going back."

His fingers traced patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "You'll belong to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Body and soul."

You felt yourself growing hot as he ravaged your mouth, a soft growl emitting from his throat. You weren’t familiar with his actions, you had never been bedded, too busy tending to your sick brother. The people had called you many names but you didn't care. But now, with your minimal experience, you were nervous, scared even at the thought of a God deflowering you. Nevertheless, you started to grow wet, your pussy started to stick to the thin piece of cloth that covered you. 

Satoru pulled away yet again, a single strand of salvia connected the both of you as he awaited your answer. You panted, out of breath and slightly intoxicated from just the sense of him. 

“Do you accept?” His voice was deep and sultry, something about him was so deliciously seductive that you couldn't help the way your thighs squeezed together involuntarily.

"I accept." 

Satoru's eyes flashed with satisfaction. "Good. Then let our pact be sealed." He captured your lips again, this time more possessively, his hands roaming your body with a newfound intensity. You let out a moan as his tongue slithered back into your mouth. 

He sunk two fingers into your folds making you whimper at the stretch. Your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging down. Satoru licked his lips, continuing to pump into you, gradually increasing the pace. The lewd noises that filled your ears made a blush rise to your cheeks. Never in your life have you felt so dirty, so shameless.

"You're dripping, my sweet. Who would've thought you'd be this turned on." His tone was laced with unmistakable lust and hunger. "Been watching you for so long. Couldn't wait any longer to be inside you." He growled, fucking into you faster, drawing louder moans out of you. 

"S-Satoru…" You gasped as he plunged another digit into you, manoeuvring his fingers so he hit all the right spots. "I-I…"

He stared at your core, your juices all over. For a second he slowed down, giving you a chance to breathe and relax before he picked up the pace. Curling his fingers, touching your sweet sensitive spots in your velvet walls. His thumb rubbed your clit, playing with your sensitive nub. A tight hot rope seemed to wrap around your stomach as Satoru continued to fuck you harder. He smirked as your walls squeezed his fingers. You let out a gasp when he touches a particular spot within you. 

"Close my sweet?" He whispered, lips brushing against your ear and it sent you closer to your high. All you could do is nod fervently, the twisting feeling wrapping around your stomach tightened. You mewled as he fucked you faster, adding another digit. “You can’t cum just yet, got to make sure you’re ready for my cock.” He hummed.

You clenched around his fingers once more, tears pricked your eyes as you threw your head back at the pleasure you were receiving. Satoru surged forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He swallowed your moans and whimpers. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Your noises were like music to his ears as he drank in every moan, whimper, mewl - the breathy gasps and the lewd pants. 

“You know my sweet, there’s something that I love about being a God.” 

You gazed at him through your lashes, his lips curling up into a devilish smirk. An ice cube appeared in his hand. You weren’t sure what to think until he slid it up and down your hot wet folds, then you were gasping at the coldness that hit your core. There was a rush of newfound delight that filled you up and you were rutting your hips, asking for more.

Satoru simply grinned, pushing the cube of ice further inside you watching your reactions bloom in front of him. His fingers were dripping with both water and your arousal. You let out a soft hiss when the ice cube is pressed harder into you. The coldness contrasted with the warmness of your needy walls. It spiked through your body as it made your blood rise and your head became light at the overwhelming feeling. You were clutching onto Satoru with so much force that it would hurt him but he didn’t care, not when he was in the midst of unravelling you.

“Let’s see how many you can hold.” It shocked you into a frenzy when you felt another ice cube get pushed inside you, the last one still slowly melting. 

“Mmmph. Too much, ngh, feels weird, ‘s too much.” Your mind seemed to explode as you babbled incoherently. “F-fuckkk ‘toru it’s cold a-and-“

You were unable to finish your sentence as Satoru reached out his hands to pinch your clit causing you to jolt forward at the sudden gesture. You felt a rush as you gazed up at him. watching his smirk grow as he looked at your sopping pussy. 

“You’re so beautiful!” He teased your folds, rubbing against them harsher. “Take more for me okay? You’re such a good girl, my sweet, keep that dirty pussy dripping as I stuff you, okay?” Satoru’s lips brushed your ear. “Then I’ll let you cum.”

You felt yourself spiralling into euphoria when he slid his finger down your pussy. His tongue flicked over his lips as he admired your fucked out face. Morals left your body and you let your urges take over. All reason and thought left you as you were reduced to a whining needy mess. Your pussy clenched pathetically around the ice cubes, the cold still surprising you. Satoru did nothing but coo at you, tucking strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“Come on my sweet.” He urged. “You're doing so well. This pussy is so pretty, she’s just so gorgeous, fuckkk, wish you could see her.”

“A-Ah, ‘toru good f-feels so g-good.” 

You were writhing beneath his grip, a feeling of overwhelming pleasure surged through you as he continued his actions. Your pussy constricted around his fingers and you felt something grow within you. Your nerves and senses were heightened as you felt his fingers nudge at your swollen clit. 

“I-I feel somethingg, ngh, f-feels weird like I’m gonna burst-” You gasped out, unable to keep the noises within you.

“Awwww.” Satoru’s tone was mocking as he watched your tiny frame twist and turn under his grip. A wicked grin spread across his face. “You’re close, my sweet, beg to cum and maybe I’ll be nice enough to let you.” 

It was almost painful but the pleasure was so uncontrollable that it overtook any pain you felt. Satoru slid another freezing ice cube into you, making you scream. Your mind was dizzy and you could only feel yourself getting stretched repeatedly with the cold object. Your pussy walls were both cold and hot, the mixture that Satoru had concocted dripping from them. Sweat covered your body, glistening as the sun shone down. You felt like you were on the verge of collapsing, so desperate for an unknown pleasure to come to your saviour.

“S-Satoru...cum, p-please. W-Wanna cum…” You stuttered helplessly, silently shrieking at the contrast of temperatures.

“More, beg more.”

You screamed at the feeling as his fingers thrusted in you making your head light as you desperately gripped onto his shoulders, clawing at some sort of way to tether you to the present. His words were laced with seduction as he continued to tease you.

“C-Cum cum cum, please pleaseee, needa cum so b-bad ‘toru fuckkk! P-Please let me cum, ‘s too much need it s-so bad, please please please!”

Satoru laughed as he buried his head in your neck, placing kisses on the empty space. He loved your desperate pleas, the breathy moans that would fill the gaps and the tears that followed as you begged him for something you had never experienced before.

“You’ve been such a good girl.” He purred, his deep voice making you clench around him. “And good girls deserve to cum. Go on my sweet, let it all out on my fingers, make a mess of this pussy.” 

You felt a wave of ecstasy rush over you as he pressed his fingers down, biting into your neck. Your body shook at the sensation that overcame you. You rocked against Satoru as you felt your pussy squeeze and constrict. A newfound feeling gushed from within you and you felt yourself scream at the pleasure. Your mind was reduced to filth as you moaned, the ringlets of your release jolting through your body. Satoru groaned at the way your cum coated his fingers and he stared at your desperate cunt, watching the aftermath of the mess you had just created. You didn’t know what to think, your mind cloudy and confused. 

“You fucking squirted, dirty fucking girl.” His eyes were transfixed and suddenly you felt embarrassed at the wetness between your thighs. He reached his hands out forcing you to stay open for him, exposing your most private part for him to ogle at. “Who knew this cute little pussy was capable of such filthy things. You’re just a whore in disguise aren’t you?”

Your pathetic mewls convinced him of nothing. Satoru stared in wonder at your pussy, watching as you clenched around nothing. He slid his fingers in his mouth, tasting every bit of you. A low moan was heard before he dived down licking up your mess. Still sensitive, you cried in shock, threading your hands through his hair. He sucked harshly at your sensitive bud, lapping at your juices. The feeling made tears bleed from your eyes and you tug on his wispy locks. 

“Like it, my sweet?” His voice sent tingles down your spine and you held back the urge to scream. “Can’t hear you?”

“L-Like it so much ‘toru…” You let out a shaky breath, beads of your tears clinging onto your lashes. “P-Please…”

He lapped at your cunt greedily, swallowing every single drop. Your arousal dripped from his chin with a mixture of his salvia. His ears were blessed at the loud squelch that would emit from between your legs. Everything was so messy but he didn’t care as he continued to play with your pretty cunt. You could only whine and quiver at the feeling. Your legs shook, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Blissful thoughts whizzed by as he kept you locked in an euphoric sensation. You struggled to not cry out and sob when white dots blurred your vision. 

Satoru flicked his tongue against your engorged clit, plunging the wet muscle inside. His mouth was hot and you felt his tongue circle your swollen clit messily while you stuttered out pleading moans. He pried open your thighs, desperate to access deeper into the precious new heaven he had discovered. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head at the overstimulation, finding it hard to focus on anything as your senses overloaded. Your mouth hung open as sweet whines constantly fell from your lips. All you could do was lie there letting Satoru ravage your pussy like a man dying of thirst.

“C-Close, close so so so close!” You gasped when you felt him release with a pop before diving back down to continue to suck. “Too much, ‘toru ‘s too much, feels t-too goodddd…”

It wasn’t long before you were cumming again. Another round of your wet arousal coating his face and he licked it clean. You were drooling now, salvia running down your chin as you felt the tears run down your face. It was too much and you feel yourself fall into a new world of pure pleasure. You could feel Satoru’s lustful grin against you as he sucked your pussy. Your thighs shook, chest heaving up and down. Despite the fact you had just released it never stopped the god from indulging you in his carnal desire.

"Sweet little Y/n." He cooed as his thumb ghosted circles around your puffy clit. “Think you’re ready for my cock?” 

It was a question that didn’t need an answer but you still nodded your head lifelessly. Your body was limp in his grip and you struggled to hold yourself up, relying only on him. Satoru smirked from above you, pushing you down on the marble floor. His hands were big and warm and the simple touch had heat blossoming at your pussy. You barely registered what was happening until you had your hands tied together. A thin golden cord wrapped around your wrists and Satoru bit his lip. You looked so beautiful, so pretty, so submissive. 

“I like you this way my sweet. All tied up and ready to be used.” He frowned and you panicked, scared you had angered him. He snapped his fingers and you found a piece of cloth in your mouth, stopping you from speaking. “That’s better, as much as I love your noises I find this much more appealing.”

Your eyes widened when he reached down to release his cock from its confines. You had never seen something so big and dare you say pretty. Satoru’s cock was red and flushed, pre cum oozing out of the swollen tip, dripping like pearls as they rolled down his fat cock head. You felt yourself drool at the sight and you didn’t think you would want something in your mouth so bad. He grinned smugly at your reaction, knowing you were unable to say anything as you stared transfixed at the sight before you.

“Don’t worry my sweet, I’ll make sure to make you feel so good. I know how much this pussy loves to be filled up.”

The words are dirty yet you couldn’t help but let out a muffled whine as he picked you up. His tip pushed past your folds, nudging into your pussy hole. You shut your eyes letting yourself feel the stretch that he gave you. His cock was so big and every bit of your body felt like it was on fire as he continued to push inside. He paused letting you adjust, whispering into your ear quietly. Filthy praises that only made you drip and mewl. It felt like magic and you whimpered into your gag helplessly. Satoru’s fingers brushed through your hair and he peppered sweet kisses across your face. 

It was like your world had imploded as he thrusted into you. Nothing else mattered as you moaned and squirmed at his touch. Your senses went into overdrive as he quickened his thrusts. He pumped in and out of you. He filled every crevice of your sex. His pace never slowed even as you felt all the energy leave your body. You screamed into the gag when he hit that particular spot that had you keeling. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head and you gasped for air through the gag. 

“Fuckkk you’re so tight, such a slutty virgin pussy. Look at how you’re gripping on my cock my sweet, she’s so loud.”

His words only made you keen with desire as you gave in to the carnal temptation that bloomed within you. 

“Mmmmph!” Your moans grew louder with every harsh thrust as his cock touched every part of your gummy walls. “Ah-Ah-Ah! ‘toruuuu!”

Satoru showed no mercy as he pounded into you. Cock plunging in and out of your pussy. Wet noises echoed through the walls of the temple and a small part of you felt bad for doing this, here of all places. It was inappropriate but it felt so good. Too good even. He continued his movements and the binds that once bound you vanished and you assumed that this was a sign that Satoru wanted you to touch him so you obeyed. Your fingers dragged down his back, sure to leave marks. Fingers fluttered from place to place, desperate for something to anchor you.

“You look so beautiful, pussy sucking in my big cock. Such a good girl for me.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Everything he did felt amazing. “Moan for me my sweet, go on let me hear those filthy sounds.” 

You obeyed his command letting the lewd sounds tumble from your lips as you gasped for more. Your hands roamed the vast expanse of his body, the taut muscles that lay under your hands, each touch ignited sparks. His grip on you tightened, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp again. Every brush of his lip, every stroke of his tongue, every bite and nibble was a reminder of his power and you couldn’t help but give in completely. 

The vigor that he fucked you with was compared to no man and you couldn’t help the lustful sounds that escaped your lips as his hips snapped to yours. It made your mind reel with the feeling of pleasure. His hair fell into his eyes and you reached your hands to sweep through his locks. Satoru was so handsome. He was a god after all and you couldn’t help that your heart pounded whenever you looked at him.

You felt your orgasm approach and you clenched your hands around his toned biceps, nails digging into his skin and he hissed. You moaned repeatedly into the gag as your body shook frantically from the pleasure. 

“A-A-Ahhh! ‘toru ‘toru ‘s too much, nghh.” Your body thrashed in his grasp, wriggling and writhing as you felt the immense feeling build up again. Every movement magnified the intensity as you felt the shock ricochet throughout your body. 

“It’s okay my sweet.” Satoru whispered but his thrusts were unrelenting. His fingers brushed against your clit, circling the bundle of nerves as he drew out your orgasm. “It’s okay, let's cum together. Soak my cock Y/n, such a good girl.”

Your juices overflowed and you felt his cum pump into your body, filling you up until you were so so full. Warmth blossomed throughout your body and you felt yourself wringing his cock with every drop of cum. The feeling was incomparable and you gasped for air once he removed the gag with the snap of his fingers. Satoru kissed you, his lips were demanding, moving against yours with raw hunger. The taste of the ocean filled your senses, salty and intoxicating. He pulled out to place a kiss on your thighs, on your pussy. You were so sensitive and you felt his cum as it flowed out of you. He stuffed two fingers in your pussy and you squealed at the sudden gesture. His fingers curled in and out of you before he slapped your core. The sting sent shock waves through your body and you couldn’t help the moan that tumbled out of your lips.

“Keep it in there my sweet, I’ll be visiting again.” His voice was a husky whisper, deep and seductive. 

Then, with those words, he disappeared, leaving you a naked mess on the temple floor. You were breathless and reeling from the pleasure that he had just bestowed upon you. You had just given yourself to a god, one that had just stuffed you so full of his cum. You stared at the place where he had been in shock, your head felt light from all that had just happened. Your legs gave way when you tried to stand up, they were sore and achy, covered in splatters of both of your cum. His smirks and groans filled your senses once again and you felt yourself flush at the memory. 

Satoru Gojo had just introduced a lustful desire that you didn’t think you would be able to forget for a very long time.

You gathered your belongings with shaking hands, urgently attempting to steady yourself as you stood. The wet splashes that painted your body were a stark reminder of what had just happened, and you tried your hardest to conceal them along with your flushed, fucked-out face.

You hobbled your way back to the village, heart pounding in your chest. Every glance from a passerby felt like they could see right through you. The sheer thought that someone would stop to talk to you had you eager to get home unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru was watching from Olympus, his eyes never leaving your retreating form. He grinned, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as he saw your tiny self hurry home. The memory of your trembling body and flushed cheeks was seared into his mind and he felt his cock harden again at the thought. He knew you were thinking of him, longing for him, and that was exactly what he wanted. When the time was right, he would come for you again, and induce you in a pleasurable haze once more.

[milkbobatyun]

a fallen star

pairing: zhongli x reader

genre: angstober, events

summary: to spend an eternity with him, was something you could only hope fate was kind enough to grant you in your next life.

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i love archon zhongli smsm, im sorry to all the guizhong lovers for making her evil, but it's for plot purposes alr :( lwk ended up rewriting this like 3 times cus i didn't feel like it was good enough LMAO

when guizhong was there, morax barely spared a glance towards you. her beauty and skill easily outshone yours, rendering you a mere shadow in her presence. it made your heart ache with sadness. she was the sun, you were the moon, silently beautiful.

they were comfortable, guizhong laughing daintily at a joke morax made, hand placed on morax’s arm. she held his attention, like she always did.

“...what do you think, [name]?” the sudden question startled you from your thoughts as you blinked and smiled apologetically.

“sorry, i was lost in my thoughts.” your own voice sounded dull, not tinkling and pleasant on the ears like guizhong’s.

morax’s amber eyes swept over yours, picking up the dejection in your posture, how you seemed uncomfortable, every muscle tense, as though you were ready to flee at any moment.

“i was just considering some new activities we could introduce for the upcoming lantern rite.” guizhong piped up, cheerfulness lacing her tone.

morax nodded in agreement, “guizhong’s ideas were innovative, as expected from the goddess of dust.” he praised.

of course, guizhong would be praised for her brilliant ideas. she was the perfect goddess, flawless in every way. unlike you, whose body was adorned with imperfections, from battles with the enemies of war and your own inner demons.

standing next to her felt like standing next to the sun, bright and warm, while you were the moon, unnoticed, but trying your best. thinking back, you realised that it was a long time since morax glanced at you the same way he looked at guizhong.

to him, you were the reliable goddess of strategy, someone he could always trust to have his back. in his eyes, you were his world, the one who hung up the stars and kept the world turning.

like stone, his faith in you was immovable, he trusted your words and plans for the archon war, to train and teach xiao. but guizhong, she held a different type of beauty, her presence commanded attention, her creations and innovations new and intriguing. he found himself spending more time and attention on guizhong, pushing you aside.

like stone, he was dense. if he had known earlier, had accepted his own feelings and understood why, when he was lost in the sea of people at a festival, his eyes searched for you, how your touch sent sparks of electricity across his skin, then this, all this, could’ve been avoided.

poor cloud retainer. she pitied herself. how did she, the clever, unparalleled adepti, become chained down by two idiots for friends? it was clearer than day that the two of you harboured feelings for each other, but how did neither of you realise.

it was time for her to be the perfect wingwoman and start her matchmaking career earlier than anticipated, before she lost the chance.

the tea had been poisoned. from the faint curve of guizhong’s lips, her eyes, alert and watching as you downed the cup she had given you, it was so obvious a five-year old could guess.

but you were preoccupied, the slip of paper your messenger pigeon delivered sat on your desk, strewn about with papers on war strategies and your mind racing through all the reasons why he wrote that message.

‘come meet me at the pavilion balcony. xiao will come find you.’

xiao escorted you along the path, the two of you discussing his training, for morax had entrusted you, the goddess of strategy, to be his teacher.

the terrain to the pavilion was difficult, you found yourself panting for breath. halfway up the mountain, the path began to twist and turn under your feet, sweat beading on your forehead. you tripped, feet stumbling over the stones of the path, each step weighing down on your feet.

xiao reached out, brows furrowed in concern.

“is everything ok, shīfu?” xiao’s quiet voice cuts through the ringing in your ears.

you lean against the stone face, shaking your head.

“i must be too tired.” you assure him, though your voice was tight with pain. “you little rascal and morax, always keeping me on my toes, overloading my desk with work.” you jested, playfully poking xiao in the side. “let me rest for a bit and we can keep going.”

pausing, you take in several shaking breaths. xiao’s golden eyes remained fixed on you, concern reflecting in his amber eyes.

with an effort, you pushed yourself off the stone face, marching onwards. xiao crouched in front of you, offering to carry you on his back. you stubbornly disagreed.

“whoever heard of a disciple carrying their master?” you teased, though pain was etched in the lines of your forehead.

xiao hesitated, his eyes flickered between your pale face and the inclining path ahead, but he respected you. thus, he fell into step beside you, ever watchful.

shadows crawled into your vision, blurring the edges and twisting the view of the path. a sudden wave of lightheadedness forced you to your knees, the world spinning sideways. xiao’s quick reaction caught you, leaning you against his shoulder.

“shīfu,” his tone filled with a rare edge of worry and fear. “you’re in no condition to continue.”

you shook your head. “i can do it, it’s going to be fine.” you didn’t know if this was to reassure yourself or xiao, but the sentence repeated itself like a mantra in your head.

the sun slowly set, painting the surrounding mountains with stunning shades of orange and gold, before the deep velvet of night overtook it, stars twinkling in the sky, the moon a watchful guardian.

with xiao supporting your weight, you stumbled up the last few paces up to the pavilion, not noticing the tall figure already present.

your heartbeat raced in your chest at an uncomfortable pace. the hollow thuds rang in your ears, mixing into a clashing melody with the piercing ringing. it made you feel nauseous, bile rising in your throat. you clawed at your chest, hoping it would slow down.

with a heave and a wretch, you threw up, the scarlet liquid splattering on the pristine stone tiles underfoot.

startled by the noise, morax spun around, amber eyes falling upon your trembling figure. xiao’s golden gaze, usually so calm and steady, now radiated desperation a silent plea for help.

for a heartbeat, morax stood frozen with shock. then, without a second thought, his posture of elegance thrown to the wind, morax races towards you.

he dropped to his knees, sinking to the floor, gently cradling you in his arms, gloved fingers gently tapping against your cheek, desperate to keep you awake. his voice trembled as he chanted your name, praying to the stars you would stay with him.

“[name],” he murmured urgently. “wake up, look at me.”

through the fog of pain and exhaustion, you felt the warmth of his embrace radiating, a familiar voice cutting through the pain. his scent–earth, osmanthus and tea…no, the scent of home–wrapped around you like a hug. you squinted up at him, your body feeling impossibly heavy, darkness threatening to bring you under.

“morax,” you breathed, chest heaving as you fought for breath. “i came…to see you, as you asked.”

morax looked at you in confusion. “wasn’t it you who asked to see me?” he questioned.

confusion surfaced on your face, until you realised who the mastermind behind this meeting could’ve been. you chuckled, clear and bright, gave way to violent coughing, which left you gasping for air.

“it must’ve been cloud retainer then.” you wheezed, breath struggling. “sly crane,” you teased, voice devoid of malice or hate. “this is her way of meddling.” you manage a wry smile.

you don’t give morax a chance to reply before you’re speaking again, holding a finger to his lips as words gushed from yours like a fountain.

“you know, i’ve liked you for a long time,” you confessed, your words carrying the weight of years of longing. “so long. i’d always hoped that you would look at me the same way, but you never did. seeing you with guizhong all the time breaks my heart.”

your chest tightened painfully, each breath a battle, but you fought on. “you mean everything to me, but i dont mean anything to you. i see the way you look at her, i hope she brings you joy.”

you open your mouth to speak again, but cold droplets that land on your face interrupt you from speaking. with an effort, you tilt your head up, watching the tears cascade down morax’s face.

with a trembling hand, you reach up to wipe his tears. morax’s hand envelops yours, his warm hand contrasting against your cold, clammy skin.

morax’s breath hitched, as his amber eyes searched yours. you open your mouth to say something more, but morax interrupts you.

“no,” he breathed. “i do love you too, i think,,” he pleaded, “ if you give me some time, let me work this out slowly.”

“i want to,” you breathed out. “but i dont know if i have time left. i’m cold.” you snuggled deeper into morax’s embrace, uncertainty weighted in your heart. you could feel your life slipping away, the edges of darkness creeping closer.

“im tired.” you mumble, your voice barely a whisper. “i’ll just…sleep a little while…”

“shīfu,” xiao’s trembling voice broke through the silent night, “please, don’t leave me yet.”

you peel your eyes open, turning your head in xiao’s direction, motioning him to come closer. obediently, xiao approaches, tears streaming down his face like a waterfall.

“shǎháizi,” you breathed, voice light with teasing. “listen well to morax, he will be your new master from now on.” you instructed, hand reaching out to pet his head. “smile for me?” you mustered a weak smile that xiao reflected, his own sorrow mingled with hope.

a final bought of violent coughing tore through your body, each one sending pain sparking through your body. blood spilling from your lips. the metallic taste filled your mouth, mixing with the bitter taste of fear as darkness overtook you.

your eyes fluttered shut as the life left your body. in the distance, a star fell out of the sky, its tail trailing like a sorrowful goodbye.

“[name]?” morax whispered, voice raw with regret. “open your eyes, look at me.” his plea fell on deaf eyes. “you never heard my response, you can’t leave me yet.”

“i think…no, i know, that i do love you.”

fate was cruel, you had found your forever, but at the wrong time. someday, perhaps fate would grant us a second chance.

footnotes:

1. shīfu (师傅) — meaning master or teacher, this word is often used in chinese to express respect to someone who is skilled in a particular area or field.

2. shǎháizi (傻孩子) — "shǎ" meaning foolish (傻) and "háizi" meaning child (孩子), this word can be used as a term of endearment, meaning foolish child

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[luveline]

this is quite vague, sorry, but would you please write more for coworker James? maybe him and r are sneaking around to kiss or they go out or Sirius and Remus find out. Idk whatever you feel like!!

you and James at the end of a secret date | ty for requesting! fem

You kissed James because you had to. You’ve never felt that pull before, but he’d been sitting there on the step next to you, close enough to see the freckles on his nose and count them, and— well, it’s hard to explain. But you kissed him. 

So far, it’s working in your favour. 

“It’s fine,” James says, breathless where he’s kissing your neck. 

“No, I think I broke it,” you say, squirming away from him to see the lamp where it’s fallen. “Shit.”

James had been kissing you on his sofa and your arm had a mind of its own, moving backward, whacking the body of the lamp where it had been living innocently on the side table. Now it’s in five separate pieces on the floor, but James doesn’t care. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“I’m not.”

You laugh, a little lost in the way he’s touching you. James isn’t being too much, despite your legs spread around his hips to let him kiss you and the slip of your stomach that’s exposed itself. He’s kissing you hard, yes, but he isn’t grabbing anything too sensitive. He isn’t initiating, just kissing. 

“No, ‘cos– ‘cos I’ve broken it, I have, I’ll have to buy you another one. It’s from IKEA, right? It’s–”

“It’s from IKEA,” James affirms, lifting his face from your neck to meet your eyes. His lips are pink from kissing, the tip of his nose ruddied. “I can get another one any hour of the day. Can you stop worrying?” 

“No.” 

James laughs and holds your cheek. “No, I guess you can’t. And I was getting ahead of myself, wasn’t I?” He turns his hand, stroking your under eye with a careful fingernail. “It’s getting late. I should drive you home.” 

You’re crestfallen, then. “Is it?” 

He checks his watch. “S’almost eleven.” 

You have work tomorrow. You’ll have to wake at 6AM. But you don’t want to leave, don’t want James to get off of you, don’t want to go back to the office where you’re still pretending to hate him. 

Not very well, mind you, but pretending all the same. 

You’re distracted from your melancholy by the marvel of him above you. His hair seems darker than ever today, black and shiny and nice to touch, a tad mussed from your hands. You smooth down each wanton curl and get a good look at his eyes. His lashes… it leaves you breathless again, how long they are, how beautiful he seems. 

You’re dating, sort of. Not together. You can’t stay the night, you haven’t fucked, and he doesn’t seem to want to yet. It’s still early days.

You aren’t sure if you’d let him fuck you here, but he hasn’t tried. You’d thought the neck kissing was a precursor, felt heat blooming in your chest and somewhere lower as he held your nape. You can imagine it easily from this position, blood rushing to warm your chest, a tizzied kiss of it to match James’ blush. He’d touch you, and you’d let him. He’d push your shirt the rest of the way up and see you clearly. 

“James…” you say softly. 

“What?” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

He strokes your cheek. Your skin stretches gently under his touch, your eye squinting closed. ��What sort of something?” he whispers. 

You wanna ask why he won’t fuck you. It would make sense —isn’t that what rivalry is, heated competition with poorly hidden sexual tension? Is that what you and James had?

“I’ve been thinking about something.”

“What sort of something?” he repeats with a laugh. 

“I don’t want to say it out loud.” 

James lets your head rest against the armrest and pillow smushed behind the top of it. He leans down to kiss you, a pulling thing you can’t help following. “Then don’t say it,” he murmurs, his nose dragging up your cheek as your lips part lazily. “Maybe I can guess.” 

“I don’t think you’ll be able to.” 

“You never have any faith in me.” 

You have much more in him as of late. James has yet to let you down. You kissed him and it’s like he refuses to be cruel about it, never letting you worry, eager in his reciprocation. Things are still confusing between you because you’re avoiding a conversation you’re too afraid to start, lest he want something casual. Instead, you’ve let him drag you deeper into his caging. It will hurt twice as much to ask now. 

“It’s stupid,” you say. “Never mind.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

“No, it was.” You scratch his scalp as you know he adores. “It’s eleven. You can kiss me for at least another half an hour.” 

If he hears the hopefulness in your voice he ignores it. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna keep you up.” 

“Well, only if you want to.” 

“I always want to kiss you, you vexing woman,” he murmurs, shivers lining your arms and spine as his lips part against your cheek. He kisses downwards, sloven, half moon kisses, lightest scratch of his teeth on your neck. “Is it too immature if I leave a mark?” he asks. 

Immature? You have no idea. “I don’t mind what you do, just not above the collar, please.” 

You grow still as he tugs at the neckline of your shirt to expose your chest. It isn’t what you meant, and you’re not about to correct him. 

“Tell me if I…” He looks up at you, smiling nicely. “Just tell me if I take it too far,” he says. “Okay?” 

He plants a kiss over your heart. You hate thinking that he can feel it, hammering, betraying your deep feelings. “Okay,” you breathe.

[yandere--stuck]

would u ever write more for stanley.. its so dry out here.. stanation is suffering in a drought……….

You're so right, I'm so sorry, Stanation!!!!

---

🎱 Stanley's obsession for you manifests into rocketing between pitiful internal justification for his possessive feelings for you and deep, deep self-loathing and disgust with himself while trying to distance himself from you. Oh, and who could forget, Stanley allowing himself to indulge in fantasies of you returning his feelings and living out happily ever after together. Ha, like that'll ever happen! … But, a man can dream, can't he? Just nice, sappy, romantic stuff, you know? Cuddling together in bed, making the kids breakfast with sleep still in both your eyes, watching the sunset together on the porch, and scaring off any lousy creep that tries to take what's his with one of his many guns. In fact, he may already be doing that last one.

🎲 Talks a big game and acts like a tough guy around you, but it couldn't be further from the truth - at least when it comes to you. In reality, when Stan's around you, he feels one second away from breaking and acting like a lovesick puppy. He feels like a kid with a crush! He hasn't felt this way since he was a young man! It'd be embarrassing if it, if you, didn't make him so happy. He just feels lucky he hasn't turned into a babbling, blushing idiot in front of you or the kids. That's for when your backs are turned. There have been some close calls, though. Like the time he got so lost in listening to you speak that he hadn't realized he'd started resting the side of his face on his hand while staring at you, hearts practically in his eyes. The moment he realized, he'd run off from you with a shout of, “Nonspecific excuse!”

🎱 Stan is a bit of a collector, and that certainly doesn't stop with you. He loves snatching little keepsakes from you. Nothing you'd miss, or nothing you'd miss for long. Discarded doodles, forgotten gloves, change that had fallen to the floor unnoticed, and occasionally, your phone, to make sure he didn't have a competition. Everything he keeps goes into his study. He also likes swiping your unfinished snacks or drinks and finishing them himself - he thinks of it as an indirect kiss (yeah, he's gross, what of it?) And it's hard to admit even to himself, but he gets a certain thrill whenever he snaps a candid shot of you from one of the polaroid he swiped from stock for “store use.” That's not all, though! He goes through security camera footage and rifles through it for cute videos of you - ah, but hey, you're always cute, aren't you? He saves them all and watches them religiously. He also may secretly go through Mabel's scrapbook to find pictures of you and make copies of them for his own personal collection, always making sure it gets returned to Mabel seemingly untouched. It's probably the most organized collection he has! And, of course, he's put a framed picture of you right beside the one of Mabel and Dipper in the laboratory downstairs. It makes Stan think of an imagined, impossible world where you and he raise the two together. Your own little family.

🎲 Another fantasy he indulges in is drugging you up and keeping you hidden in the laboratory. It'd be so easy. You're so trusting of him when you really shouldn't be, when he doesn't deserve to be. It'd be so easy to steal you away all for himself. Gravity Falls is a weird town. Strange things happen, and they either go unremembered or unspoken. Sure, you'd be missed, but it's not like the police force in town would get very far. Heck, he'd put more faith in his grand-niblings cracking the case than Blubs and Durland! And, well, you stole his heart first. It's only fair. And Stan would take such good care of you, he knows it! He'd keep you all nice and drugged up. Maybe you'd be euphoric and clingy, or your brain too foggy to escape or do much for yourself, or maybe he'd give you something so that you're too sick to even consider leaving for the hospital lest your condition worsen any further. You'd need him. That's all he'd ever want.

🎱 Stan is very protective of you. He tries not to be so obvious, but his temper had such a short fuse when it came to you. You were just so sweet, so nice, even to a scumbag like him! You were so good with the kids, always such a help around the shack, even going so far as to visit on your day off just because you liked the Pines’ company. Liked his company. I mean, how the hell could anyone think they're good enough for you? Nah, nah, nah, he's not letting any mouth-breathing idiots in this town try to make moves on you just because they're too stupid to realize you're outta their league! And if he even thinks he hears someone a bad word about you, he'll be up in their face, cussing them out and making threats (as well as very rude hand gestures.) It's embarrassing for him afterwards, though. He doesn't want to think he's losing control and becoming more obvious, but with how Mabel claims it was ‘so sweet’ of him to be so protective of you, he can't help but worry.

🎲 Stan gradually becomes more physically affectionate with you. “Accidentally” brushing his hands against yours, leaving a hand on your shoulder or arm for a bit too long, nearly embarrassing himself by wrapping you up in a hug in front of everyone. He just can't help it! He's… He's in love! He's in love with you, and he wants to be with you. You make him happy just by being near him. You make his life better just by being in it. He wants to hold you, hug you, kiss you, be with you, and keep you with him forever. But, Stan also knows he can't. You'd never agree to it, surely. No matter how much Stan wants to think otherwise. Old bastard like him, he wasn't good enough for you - but then again, he thought no one was. But he could take comfort in you just being near him (if you ever tried to leave, he doesn't know what he'd do…) That way, at least, he couldn't screw anything up. That's all he'd do, anyway. It'd fail, just like all of his other relationships and all because of him. He should know better. He should know that he's a fuckup, that he destroys everything he touches, and that everyone he's ever known has suffered because of him. He just… He just wishes he could be closer. He knows he's not good enough for you to love him or need him and that he never will be, but God, does he wish he was.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city. 

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him. 

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun. 

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?” 

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that. 

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices. 

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly. 

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again. 

And again… And again. 

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him. 

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby. 

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing. 

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you. 

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes. 

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe. 

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check. 

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over. 

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his. 

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men. 

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore. 

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her. 

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table. 

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are. 

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles? 

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good. 

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?" 

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?" 

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared. 

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends. 

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary. 

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours. 

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again. 

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?” 

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now. 

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?” 

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts. 

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again. 

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister. 

[bots-and-cons]

Just saw that your requests are open and would like to request an angst/no comfort scenario for Megatron.

Imagine his romantic partner defected to the autobots because of the violent behavior of the cons and was presumed MIA. Once both fractions are on earth, the s/o shows up and both meet each other again after a long time during a fight.

I hope everything is understandable. (Sorry for grammar mistakes, english is not my main languages)

A/N: Oh boy, I love writing angst and the little sprinkle of “no comfort” is just great lol. I also have this scenario which I wrote like years ago, but it’s also total angst with Megatron. I also got an idea for a part 2. Idk if I’ll ever get around to it, but we’ll see

He couldn’t believe his optics. It was you, it was really you. The video from his troops' first battle on this puny planet was playing on the screen and you were right there. You were fighting against the decepticons you had once been a part of, alongside the autobots and that damned Prime.

“Turn it off” Megatron growled at Starscream.

“That traitor, I’ll have them disassembled for this” Starscream hissed as he paused the feed.

“You will do no such thing! Now leave me!” Megatron raised his voice, not even glancing at the seeker.

His optics were fixed on the screen. It couldn’t be anyone else, he knew that frame as well as he did his own, or at least he did in the past. How many more scars had you acquired during your time away from him? How much had you changed? How much had the autobots managed to brainwash you for you to fight alongside them?

Back when you had joined the autobots, you had been lost. You couldn’t stand the decepticons and their cruelty anymore, but above all you couldn’t watch what Megatron was becoming. He wasn’t the same mech you had fallen in love with so long ago. You had tried to reason with him so many times, but it always seemed to fall on deaf ears. Even the way he looked at you wasn’t the same as it had been. There was something dark about it, something wrong. You weren’t even sure if there was love in his optics anymore when he looked at you. It was such a drastic contrast to the warm, loving gaze the two of you once shared. So you left, you left behind all your friends, everyone you knew and your whole life. You hoped that maybe you could make up for some of the pain you had caused by joining the autobots.

You had a reputation among the autobots of course. The partner of Megatron, the mech that was the root of all evil. The one who had stood by the most terrible warlord the galaxy had ever seen, while he had destroyed your home planet and slaughtered countless of your fellow cybertronians. You knew you had a responsibility to try to balance the scales. You just wished you’d realized it sooner.

Megatron needed to find you, he needed to know why and how you disappeared. The thought of you leaving him of your own free will had never really even crossed his mind. He had been sure you’d been captured by the autobots, that you hadn’t just left him, but now his faith in that was wavering. He needed to know the truth, and he needed to hear it from you.

Megatron was on earth. That certainly explained the uneasy sense of dread you’d been feeling, but when you heard Ratchet say the words, it didn’t make you feel better. If anything, you felt even worse. You had never wanted to see him again, but now he was here. You were on the same planet as him again, and you didn’t know what to do or how to feel. You would have to face him eventually, probably in the field of battle, and you didn’t know if you could handle it. You didn’t give him an explanation, you just left during one mission and never went back. You would never go back. The autobots, even during war, had shown you a world of empathy, kindness and true friendship. They were your family. Something you never really had with the decepticons.

Even though you wanted to, you didn’t hate him. Somewhere deep inside, you might’ve still even loved him, but you had pushed those feelings aside long ago. When the time came, you would be willing to pay for your sins with your life if that’s what was needed. If it would save others, you would give your life to save your allies from the one you once called the love of your life. If someone had to die by his hand, you’d rather it be you than anyone else.

It took weeks, but when Megatron finally got word that you had appeared at an energon mine with a couple of autobots, he rushed there, not wasting a second. When he finally saw you on the battlefield, you looked the same as you did the day he lost you. The two of you looked at each other, and for just a second, it was like there was no one else there. For a moment, it was just the two of you, and for a moment Megatron was convinced things could be like they had once been. Then it happened, you turned your blaster towards him and the look in your optics was one he’d never seen before.

You hesitated, just for a split second, but that was enough for him to dodge your shot. You could see his expression change as you fired. He looked like he couldn’t believe what you’d done. That you would turn your weapon against him. Then it came, that look of rage and that the burning hatred you’d seen him aim at so many others. There was a time you’d been sure he’d never look at you like that, but here you were. You were aiming to kill the one you used to love more than anything, and you almost couldn’t bear it.

Megatron couldn’t believe that it had come to this. The one he had loved and still loved was attempting to kill him. He had given you everything, and you were trying to take his life. This must have been the work of the autobots. There was no other option, you would never try to hurt him of your own free will. He looked around frantically with a crazed look in his optics and pinpointed the Prime in the middle of the battle.

You could see Megatron looking at Optimus and you knew what he was thinking. You moved before you could even really think. Megatron was so laser focused on Optimus, that you managed to tackle him and make him fall off the cliff behind him. You fell with him.

Megatron didn’t even realize what he’d done before his back hit the ground. The fall wasn’t long, so it didn’t really affect him, but when he noticed he had wrapped his arms around you in a protective manner to shield you from the fall, he didn’t know what to think. The anger that had just been burning in his chest was gone, and all he could think about was having you in his arms again.

“Let me go” you said quietly as he kept holding onto you, while laying on the ground on his back.

He couldn’t help but ask. He had to know, he had to hear it from you.

“What happened to you?” Megatron asked, still holding you so you couldn’t get away. Your arms were pinned to your sides, and you were laying on his chest, facing him.

You couldn’t look at him. You were afraid that if you did, you would throw away everything you had built with the autobots just because he looked at you lovingly again. You were afraid you would give in and go back to him. You didn’t want that. You would never be treated like that again. You wouldn’t be treated like an object, or a trophy he could parade around.

“Let me go” you repeated, forcing the words out of your mouth.

Megatron hesitated for a moment, but he decided to let you go. He wanted an explanation, but no matter what it was, he was going to take you with him. 

You got some distance between him and yourself, but you still didn’t look at him. Not in the optics anyway. He looked the same he had the day you left, but there was a different, more destructive air about him.

“What happened to you?” he repeated.

You weren’t going to answer, and you didn’t owe him an explanation, but you still opened your mouth, but before you could say anything, a nearby explosion interrupted you.

“Come on (Name), we have to go!” Arcee yelled from on top of the cliff.

You looked up at Arcee and then glanced at Megatron, who took a step towards you. You could guess what he was thinking. He surely wanted to take you with him, but you couldn’t allow that to happen. You swiftly started climbing back to the top of the cliff.

Megatron took another step forward, but froze as he noticed a few of the autobots standing on top of the cliff, pointing their blasters at him. He considered his options for a moment, and no matter how much he wanted to drag you back to the Nemesis with him, it wasn’t worth a potentially serious injury. All he could do was watch as you climbed up and got to the top of the cliff. You were going to slip away again. You were going to be taken away from him again.

You were about to leave, but you finally gave into the desire to look back at Megatron. This time you met his gaze, and you could feel yourself growing confused as soon as you met his optics. You weren’t sure what to make of his expression. For a second, just a second, you thought you could see the old him. The one before the war started, the one you’d fallen in love with so long ago, but that thought faded as his optics grew colder and his expression hardened. Now all you could see was that same jealousy and possessiveness you’d seen before you left him. He looked at you like a possession, something he owned, something that he thought had been stolen from him and something that he would tear through anything to get back. That thought terrified you.

He would get you back, and he would do anything to make that happen. He would rip apart the autobots to get to you and make sure you could never be taken from him again. You were his, and he would get you back and never let you go again.

[sorchathered]

Guilty Eyes and Little White Lies

Pairing-Bob Floyd x reader, Bob Floyd x Natasha Trace, Jake Seresin x reader

Warnings-talk of sexual activity, language, drinking, adultery, angst

Summary- you’d thought you had the perfect marriage, what happens when you’re betrayed by the one you love most, and how do you piece yourself back together? Sometimes a little revenge isn’t a bad thing.

A/N- This one has been sitting in the vault for a while! Not my usual at all, but I’m feeling the angsty vibe lately and rolling with it!

———————————————————————————-

He truly hadn’t meant to let it get this far. The bird strike incident a few weeks ago had them both on edge, feeling their mortality and in a moment of weakness he’d let her kiss him. He’d blamed it on nerves, claimed it didn’t mean anything and continued to push down the gnawing feeling that it might be something more. Then the mission had happened, they’d nearly lost Maverick and then Bradley, and when everyone came back safely everyone had gotten a little too drunk on the carrier that night and he’d somehow found his way to her bunk. They’d fit together in a way that scared him, and when he woke up the next morning he looked down at her sleeping form and didn’t think of you once. But reality hit when they got home, and the wedding ring on his left hand felt like a 1,000 lb weight.

Bob Floyd had royally fucked up, he’d broken protocol by sleeping with his front seater, and the worst part of it all? He’d cheated on his wife. His sweet, beautiful, faithful wife who was waiting for him back in Lemoore. The one he’d sworn to love until he died, and it brought on another wave of nausea as he paced the floor of his barracks room just thinking about how far he’d let things go. He’d fallen for Natasha Trace in the weeks he’d been at Top Gun, he hadn’t meant to truly but she got under his skin in a way that he couldn’t shake. She knew he was married, knew what they were doing was wrong and had agreed to stay apart until he could figure out what to do, but seeing her every day made it more and more difficult to do the right thing. The right thing…the right thing would have been to end it immediately and tell you the truth right when it happened. The right thing would have been to request an immediate transfer back home after the mission ended, but he didn’t do that either. He’d been dodging your calls for days, making up excuses while he tried to find the right things to say, but he knew you were too smart to believe him. You knew something was wrong, and it wouldn’t be long before it all came toppling down.

——————————————————————

When you’d both been stationed at Lemoore two years ago it had been like a dream, finally in the stationed in the same place after years of long distance. You’d soaked up all the quality time, getting to work together every day and go home together every night had always been the goal and it had been everything you’d hoped for. Nothing is ever perfect though, and Jake Seresin was the very definition of throwing a wrench in the machine. He lived to rile Bob up, and nothing ruffled his feathers more than when Jake flirted with you. He always joked that you were far too good for Bob, that you needed someone wild to balance you out and keep you on your toes, you’d constantly shut his flirting down and asked him to be nicer to your husband and for a while Jake did back off. That is until he and Bob got called back to Top Gun for this mission, and most especially when his jabs had been confirmed, opening an empty conference room door one evening to find your husband pressed against Phoenix with her hand down his pants. After they’d been caught he had ended it, he hated himself for what he’d done but couldn’t bring himself to find the words to tell you the truth.

Bob knew there was no point in begging Jake to keep his mouth shut, so he simply asked to be able to explain to you himself. You’d been devastated, but not surprised. He’d been avoiding you for weeks, every time you’d discussed coming down for the weekend he’d claimed he had things to do and didn’t want to drag you down to San Diego just to sit in a barracks room. You’d held it together as best you could but you were furious, you’d never given him any reason to stray and to watch him throw 5 years down the drain for a woman he barely knew set a fire in you. So one Friday you packed an overnight bag and drove down to North Island, pulling into the unfamiliar apartment complex late in the afternoon. The ridiculous jacked up truck in front of the building told you he was home from work, and you made your way to his door still shaking with nerves despite feeling so confident all day. Jake Seresin in nothing but sweatpants was a sight to see, and the shock on his face was even better. He had texted you a few days before to make sure you were ok, offered you a place to crash if you decided to come down and discuss things with Bob in person, he certainly didn’t expect you to show up and had to say he was glad he got to reap the benefits of Bob’s shitty lapse in judgement.

“As happy as I am to see you Sweetheart, are you sure you’re up for all this? You don’t have to do this yet if you aren’t.”

“It needs to be done Jake, I need closure and I want to move on. So take me out to this bar you guys keep talking about, and let’s burn the rest of my marriage to the ground.”

——————————————————————

Just a few hours later you and Jake were perched at the bar, nice and tipsy and feeling lighter than you had in days. You knew Bob and Phoenix would be there soon and the thought suddenly had you white knuckling the bar stool, maybe you’d been too bold in thinking you could handle catching him in some other woman’s arms, maybe you weren’t as brave as you thought you’d been after all. Jake seemed to notice the shift in you, knocking his knee into yours to pull you out of your head. He gave you a wink and peeled your hands from the stool, taking them both in his.

“You sure you still want this? I am totally fine with us heading home with some ice cream and letting you cry it out, but I’m also down to kick his ass if you need me to. Whatever you want to do we’ll do it, just say the word and we’re out of here.”

You heard him before you saw him, the group of aviators from his squad calling his name and you knew it was too late to run. You shook your head, plucking Jake’s tequila shot from his hand and downed it, revenge was all you had left and you’d be damned if he took that from you too. Standing up and smoothing the material of the dress that was your husband’s favorite you backed yourself up against the bar, settling yourself between Jake’s legs and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Put your money where your mouth is Seresin, show me what I’ve been missing.”

——————————————————————

Meanwhile on the opposite side of the bar everyone is saying their hellos, none of the squad know what’s been going on behind the scenes and as far as they can tell it’s just a normal Friday night meetup. Phoenix is the first to notice that Hangman is missing from the crew, Rooster nodding towards the bar letting them know he’s on a date with some girl from out of town.

“Hangman has a girlfriend?! Since when?”

“Beats me, he just said she’d come down to visit for the weekend and he’d bring her over when she was up for it.”

Bob is clueless to it all, and offers to grab the next round as everyone sets the table up for a new game.

He’s settling into a bar seat with Phoenix to wait for their beers as she nods in your general direction.

“Well they look cozy, but I swear I’ve seen that girl before, she looks so familiar. Bob, have you seen her before? I feel like we know her.

He looks up towards the direction she’s pointed and it feels as if his world has been upturned. Because just across the bar from him is Lieutenant Jake Seresin with his tongue down his wife’s throat, bodies pressed together with a handful of your ass.

“I know exactly where you know her from Phoenix, that’s y/n. That’s my fucking wife.”

——————————————————————

Jake is having the time of his life if he’s honest, he’d always been fond of you but he had enough respect for the sanctity of marriage to keep his hands to himself. You’d always belonged to someone else, that is until Baby on Board had done exactly what he expected and fumbled the bag. He knew you were hurt and that his chances would be slim for a while, but he’d bide his time if that meant he got to hold you like this tonight. And if it helps satisfy your need for revenge? He certainly wouldn’t mind helping you out with that. He was just a philanthropic kind of guy after all. You were a little tipsy now, giggling while he kissed you and he decided to play up the game a little and slide a hand down to grope your ass. You yelped but leaned into his touch, and he had to keep reminding himself this was just a game, that you weren’t his and that he still had to win you over.

“Jakeeee, you’re gonna get us in trouble if you keep this up, I don’t want us catching an indecent exposure charge” you said a little breathlessly into his mouth, maybe this hadn’t been the best idea; you could definitely see the appeal, and as it turned out Hangman wasn’t just all talk- he was very good.

“Sweets if I had it my way we’d already be halfway to my bedroom, but I’ll save that for another night. ‘Sides it looks like we’ve struck that nerve you were looking for, your husband’s looking our way and I think he’s getting a taste of his own medicine.” Jake cocked his head in the direction of Bob and Phoenix, winking at them as he continued to press kisses into your neck.

“Oh-oh shit, maybe we should go outside before we start a bar brawl.” You were wide eyed as you pushed him back a little, but he could see you were still comfortable with him continuing the plan so he looped an arm around your waist and tossed a 50 on the bar as he led you towards the back exit.

——————————————————————

“What do you mean that’s your wife?! What is she doing here, and what is she doing with Seresin?”

Natasha is spiraling, meanwhile Bob can barely hear her. He can only hear the rush of blood in his ears and his heart thumping out of his chest, nausea rising up in his throat as he catches Jake’s eye. The motherfucking gall of Jake Seresin, he’d spent months jabbing at Bob about how you were too good for him and while it had stung he’d been confident that you’d never be interested in him, but now to see your body pressed to his, kissing someone else? It confirmed every fear he’d had, he absolutely deserves this; you’d given him everything and he’d burnt it down but damn if it didn’t hurt to watch you walk away in the arms of someone else.

“Nat- I can’t do this right now. Can you find a ride home? I need to talk to her, see if she’ll let me apologize in person.”

She looks hurt, but she knows damn well she has no reason to be, this is on the both of them and she has to respect whatever choices he makes.

Bob follows the path you and Jake took towards the back exit, no idea what he’s going to say or if you’ll even listen but his feet carry him anyways, into the balmy night air and across the lot where he can see the two of you talking.

—————————————————————————

“Alright pretty girl, had enough revenge for tonight? Think it’s about time we get you home.” Jake said with a grin as he ushered you towards the truck at the back of the parking lot, you were a little unsteady in your wedge sandals but it had felt good to let loose tonight. You didn’t give a shit what Robert Floyd thought of your behavior, you’d tried to be his everything for so long and knowing that he could throw it out the window so quickly just solidified that it had never had anything to do with you. Something in him was broken, he could have had a long lasting love and he took it for granted. You wrapped both arms around Jake’s bicep and leaned into him with a sigh; you didn’t know what this was with him but you definitely knew you weren’t ready to get your heart broken by another handsome face anytime soon. All you could hope was that he’d settle for friends in the meantime, but you couldn’t dwell on it now, because through the buzz of the alcohol you suddenly heard a voice you knew all too well calling your name above the crash of the waves. Of course he was, he couldn’t just let you have this one night to have the upper hand, he’d actively avoided you for weeks and the second someone else paid you attention he suddenly had something to say.

You went ramrod straight and froze, Jake turning slightly to see what had you so tense and scoffed as he watched Bob make his way towards you both. He tugged a little to shield you from Bob but you looked up at him and shook your head, you could handle this; there was no need to delay it like he had and you had plenty to say.

“Y/n, can I just have a minute-“

“You don’t deserve a second of her time Floyd and you know it.” Jake snapped, but the gentle touch of your hand on his arm gave him pause; it wasn’t his job to be the white knight and he knew damn well you could handle yourself, but he couldn’t help but want to shield you from anymore pain.

“I’ve got this Jake, give me some time ok? I’ll be back.” You squeezed his arm and stepped away, and you thought you saw pain flash over Bob’s features at the familiarity between you two, but he had no right and he knew it. You followed him down the rickety wooden ramp to the beach, the sound of the crashing waves filling the awkward silence.

“I’m sorry.” He said, so quietly you could barely even hear it, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he looked down at you, and all it did was make you see red.

“You're… Sorry? After shutting me out for weeks and then telling me what happened in an e-mail, you’re sorry? Well I’ll be, that’s gotta be the biggest pile of horse shit I’ve ever heard Bob.” You laughed, but it was harsh, it had him wincing from the coldness in your tone.

“You’ve got to be shitting me, I get an adrenaline rush, I get feeling your mortality, hell I’d even get it if you just kissed her. But you slept with her, you gave pieces of yourself to her that were only ever supposed to belong to me, and then to make it worse you hid it from me…for weeks! You have always been someone I considered to be honorable, and this? This betrayal? This is slimy. This is cowardly, and you fucking know it.”

You didn’t cry, you didn’t scream, you simply said your peace and when you looked back at him his eyes were full of tears and regret.

“I broke us, I know that. I’ve always known you deserved better, tried to be better, and I don’t have an excuse for any of it. I don’t know how I got here, I just know that I’m sorry. I ended it, we are just friends now, and I know that means shit to you but I’m trying. I just didn’t know if you’d even listen if I called, and then you came in tonight, with him and I realized just how much it hurt. God, seeing you with him- it makes me sick. I get it now, I get how much it must’ve hurt you. I know that’s why you did it, and I deserve it, I deserve it all. I don’t know where we go from here, but I don’t want you out of my life, I know it’s unfair to ask.” He couldn’t even look at you, it was infuriating to think that the man you loved had become this shell, a person you couldn’t even recognize.

“I wish you well Robert, I would never wish harm on you, but no. You clearly need to work on yourself, and so do I. Wherever that journey takes us, it’s not us against the world anymore. I don’t think I could ever look at you the same, and it’s not fair to ask me to try. I’ll speak with our lawyer, see if we can wrap this up as smoothly as possible, but there is no more us. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” You say with a sigh and a small tear rolls down your face before you can swipe it away, one last tear shed for the end of a life you’d always dreamed of. As you walked away from him and made your way back to the lot, you could hear his broken sobs, and you prayed whatever higher power existed would help him move past this, because you couldn’t stay.

Jake helped you get in the truck and the two of you drove in silence on the short trip back to his home, he could see you lost in thought so he let you drown in it for a few minutes until he pulled into the parking area. You swiped more stray tears, and then with a deep breath let your body sag into the plush leather of his f-150.

“You know why I was always on him about not being good enough for you?” Jake said quietly, causing you to turn and face him. You had always wondered, and begged him to stop more than once, he’d always said it was just fucking around but you had a suspicion it was something more.

“It wasn’t because I was trying to put a wedge between you two, well…maybe some of it was, but really it was because he never really saw you. It was always about him and you seemed sad, like you were ornamental, a box to be checked off on his list (and he did love to make lists), but never like he truly saw what he had. It drove me nuts, I’d kill for that, and I knew it was wrong, but I wanted it with you. And then when he fucked it all up I knew it would hurt you, but I couldn’t help but think that I could be the one to show you how much better you deserved to be treated. I can love you better, maybe not today, maybe not for a while, but I’ll wait y/n. You’re worth the wait.”

He looked wrung out from his confession, you knew he’d had some kind of schoolboy crush but it had never occurred to you that his feelings were genuine. He was the Hangman for gods sake, he’d always seemed like this larger than life flirt, why on earth would he be into some mousy little jag lawyer who was already married to one of his teammates? Maybe he was right, you did have a habit of putting yourself in small boxes to let Bob shine, he’d never asked you to but you’d done it anyway; you’d always put him first but he’d never thought to do the same.

“I’m not ready yet Jake, and I can’t promise I’ll be ready anytime soon. I’ve got to find me again, I don’t even know how I got here. But someday…someday I think I might like to know what it’s like to be loved by you. If you can wait for me, I’d really love that.”

He grinned at you and you couldn’t help but smile back, there was just something about him that lit you up in a way you’d never felt before. Friends would have to be enough for now, but someday you’d let yourself really appreciate just what it could be like to be truly loved.

——————————————————————————-

🏷️ Tagging- @attapullman @mynameismckenziemae @bobgasm @sebsxphia @roosterforme @seitmai @sailor-aviator

[yujo-nishimura]

"Rubber Duckies"

You are stuck with your studies and your research and you decide to use your crew members as rubber duckies to explain to them what you are doing in the hope of overcoming your writer's block. 

Words: 1023

Comment: This is something I wrote while I am really stuck. I hope his helps other people who experience the same right now or need a little motivational booster for their papers/exams. The whole fic is fluff with a hint at smut (Law and Kid just always leave me feral).

Let me know in the comments if I should add any characters.

Luffy

He would listen patiently the whole time, lowering his head, his eyes covered by his straw hat. After several minutes, you realize he has fallen asleep. When you ask him a follow-up question, he jolts awake and gives you his brightest, most infectious smile. Despite your frustration, you can't stay mad at him.

"It all sounds very complicated, Y/N," Luffy says. "But I believe in you, and I'm sure you'll excel at this. Now come here, we can cuddle and snack on some of the crisps I swiped from the kitchen!"

His boundless enthusiasm and unwavering faith in you, even when he doesn't fully understand the details, leaves you feeling a little less stuck. 

Robin 

As you explain your research question and methodology, Robin listens with rapt attention, her eyes never leaving yours. When you finish, she pauses thoughtfully before speaking.

"I think the only thing this study lacks is your confidence, dear Y/N," Robin says, chuckling lightly. Her words strike a chord within you - she has a way of cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

"Can I give you a hug?" you ask, feeling deeply grateful for her patience and wisdom. You know her insights have been invaluable, not just for this project, but for the whole crew.

Robin opens her arms widely and smiles at you. "Of course," she says, enveloping you in a warm embrace. At that moment, you feel the weight of your doubts and insecurities start to lift. Robin's faith in you is a precious gift, and it's exactly the encouragement you need to find the courage to complete your work and submit it.

Law 

You decide to explain your work to Law, hoping his keen analytical mind will provide valuable feedback. As you begin speaking, however, you can see his face growing increasingly impatient. He clenches his jaw, clearly struggling to hold back interrupting you.

When you finally finish, Law wastes no time in his critique. "I think the structure is off, Y/N. I don't understand why you chose this theoretical framework, and I'm lost - did you even have a research question?"

You gulp, suddenly realizing you may have forgotten to explicitly state your core research question. Law's piercing gray eyes have a way of making it difficult to maintain focus.

Seeing your flustered expression, Law sighs. "How about you give me the paper to read, and I'll go over it with a red pen?" he offers.

You nod enthusiastically, immediately moving to retrieve the document. "Not now!" Law interjects, grabbing your arm before you can turn away. A mischievous smile plays on his lips beneath his white hat.

"It may not be the best study," he admits. "But the way you've explained it, showcasing your intelligence, has left me wanting more."

Zoro

Falls asleep immediately. Despite your best efforts to engage him, Zoro remains unresponsive, his gentle snoring the only indication that he's still present. You continue talking, but it's clear you're essentially just speaking to yourself at this point.

In a way, Zoro has become the most authentic "rubber duckie" of all - the perfect listener, oblivious to the intricacies of your work, but providing a soothing presence nonetheless.

Sanji 

As you dive into the details of your research, you can't help but notice the adoring way his eyes are fixed on you. It's clear that Sanji is enamored, and would likely listen with rapt attention no matter what you chose to talk about.

You continue your explanation, confident that Sanji is absorbing every word, even if he may not fully grasp the intricacies of your work. When you finally conclude, Sanji erupts into enthusiastic applause.

"That was amazing, Y/N!" he exclaims, his face alight with genuine admiration. "You've done such an incredible job with this research. I'm in awe of your brilliance!"

You can't help but sigh, knowing that Sanji's feedback, while well-intentioned, isn't exactly the critical analysis you were hoping for. But as you look into his sincere, shining eyes, you also feel a sense of pride and relief.

Even if you haven't quite overcome your writer's block yet, having someone so genuinely praise your hard work feels like a reward in itself.

Eustass Kid

As you begin explaining the details of your research to Eustass Kid, it's immediately clear that he has little patience or interest in the topic. His brows are furrowed in what can only be described as an annoyed scowl, and he fidgets restlessly in his seat.

Despite his clear disinterest, however, Kid sits through your entire presentation, never once interrupting or trying to leave. You can't help but appreciate the fact that he's making the effort to listen, even if he doesn't seem to understand or care about the intricacies of your work.

When you finally conclude, Kid simply yawns and cocks his head to the side.

"So what's the problem with all this?" he asks, his tone bordering on disinterested. "Sounds like a solid piece of work to me."

You sigh, explaining to him once again that you feel stuck and unsure if you've done a good job. You're hoping for constructive feedback, but it's clear Kid isn't the right person to provide that.

Suddenly, Kid reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling you forcefully towards his chest. You can feel the warmth radiating from his skin as his low voice speaks calmly.

"You're asking the wrong guy about this, Y/N," he says. "I can't tell you if any of the things you did for this research make sense. But if you're struggling right now, I know a way to make you feel better..."

You blush as you realize the implication behind his words, and without further thought, you give in. Perhaps a brief break from your studies, spent in the comforting embrace of someone who cares for you, is exactly what you need to recharge and tackle the problem with a fresh perspective.

[alastwhorez]

Corrupt - Chapter one: The Fallen Nun

𖤐 Pairing: Alastor x Nun!Reader

𖤐 Smmary: In the depths of Hell, where redemption is a rare commodity, Alastor, the Radio Demon, encounters an unexpected challenge: a nun who has fallen from grace. Drawn by her purity and the potential for corruption, Alastor sets out to twist her faith and make her his own. However, as he delves deeper into her world, he finds himself entangled in emotions he never anticipated. Can she keep her faith, or will the Radio Demon corrupt her? 𖤐 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, religion, smut, nun reader, masturbation, voyeurism, corruption kink, Alastor is a little shit, graphic sexual scenes, nightmares, Sexual manipulation, Hallucinations, Hell. I think that's everything

𖤐 an: First chapter, hope you enjoy! Not very long, the other should be longer. Not proofread, possible spelling errors

The air in Hell was thick with the scent of brimstone and despair. Amidst the chaos and torment, a lone figure wandered, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. Sister (y/n), once a devoted nun, now found herself in the last place she ever expected to be.

Clutching her rosary tightly, she whispered prayers under her breath, hoping for some semblance of comfort. Her long hair, usually hidden beneath her habit, flowed freely, a stark contrast to the dark, twisted landscape around her. Her circle glasses perched delicately on her nose, framing eyes that still held a glimmer of hope.

As she walked, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of countless eyes upon her. Demons and lost souls alike watched her with a mixture of curiosity and malice. Yet, she pressed on, determined to find a way out of this infernal place.

It was then that she heard it—a voice, smooth and melodic, cutting through the cacophony of Hell. “Well, well, what do we have here?” The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, sending a shiver down her spine.

Sister (y/n) turned, her heart pounding in her chest. Standing before her was a tall, slender figure dressed in a red pinstripe suit. His grin was wide and unsettling, and his eyes gleamed with a mischievous light. She recognized him immediately from the stories she had heard—the Radio Demon, Alastor.

“Lost, are we?” Alastor’s voice was laced with amusement as he took a step closer. “A nun in Hell. Now, that’s a sight you don’t see every day.”

Sister (y/n) took a step back, her grip on her rosary tightening. “Stay back, demon,” she warned, her voice trembling. “I have no business with you.”

Alastor chuckled, the sound echoing around them. “Oh, but I think you do, my dear. You see, I find you… fascinating.” He tilted his head, studying her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. “Such purity in a place like this. It’s almost poetic.”

She swallowed hard, trying to muster the courage to stand her ground. “I will not be swayed by your words. My faith is strong.”

“Is it now?” Alastor’s grin widened. “We’ll see about that.” With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a chair out of thin air and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. “Why don’t we have a little chat, Sister (y/n)? After all, we have all the time in the world.”

Despite her fear, Sister (y/n) felt a strange pull towards the demon. There was something about him, something that made her want to understand him, even as she resisted his influence. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Very well. But know this, Alastor—I will not be easily corrupted.”

Alastor’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Challenge accepted, my dear. Challenge accepted.”

The loud Ringing of your alarm woke you from the nightmare. Your breath deeply trying to calm yourself down, Your body had broken out into a sweat. It was as if he was really there or should I say you were really there—in hell.

Taking a deep breath you turn off the alarm and get out of bed. Sunday morning, the busiest day of the week. You go To the bathroom, wash up, and return to putting on your habit. You kneel down at your bed and say a prayer Before getting up and leaving your room to meet with the other sisters.

You all work together on your daily chores before the first service of the day. At the service you usually sing in the choir and help teach Sunday school to the children.

Today Is not different. It goes exactly how it does every Sunday, except the presence of the man from your dream lingers. As if he is watching you, following you around the church, mocking you.

You notice shadows Out of the corner of your eye, or a figure in the mirrors or glass windows when you pass. Things none of the other sisters see. You hear radio static when you are alone in a room and a malicious laugh when in prayer. You catch figures standing behind the other sisters or the priest when speaking to them. Evil, Malicious figures.

So you pray, you pray and you pray and you pray. begging for this to all stop. For you to still be dreaming. You notice your thoughts start to linger away from your faith. You start questioning things you never thought about before. Start asking yourself why you became A nun. These thoughts scare you so you try to pray them away. Begging God for an answer.

“Sister (y/n), are you alright? You seem out of it today” Father Paul says

You let out a sign. At first startled when you heard his voice. Thinking it was the malicious spirits playing with you again.

“Yes Father, I am alright. Thank you for asking” You say with a slight bow of your head. “Is there anything I can assist you with Father?”

He smiles at you and begins to talk but you don't hear any of it. Not when there is a shadow behind him showing you foul, violent images. The images go from violence to sexual back to violence.

“Sister, are you sure you're alright?” Father Paul Asks,pulling your attention back to him.

Your face is Flushed from the sexual images and sounds you were forced to witness. Never having seen Or heard such things before.

“I'm sorry Father, I'm feeling quite ill actually”

Laughter, deep, chest rumbling laughter is all you hear followed by the noise of radio static As the laughter dies down.

Father Paul tells you to take the rest of the day in silent prayer, that the other sisters can handle all the duties left for the day. You thank him and go back to your room, locking yourself inside.

You pray for the rest of the day trying to ignore The voices and shadows as they play with you. When night falls you retire to your bed after replacing your habit with a silk nightgown. Something you aren't supposed to have, it's too short and fabric is not modest enough.

Saying one more prayer you fall asleep.

The feeling of hands on you is all you can make out. It's dark, you can't see anything but you can hear the slight sound of static.

You feel the hand run Higher and higher up your leg starting at the ankle and moving up to your thigh. Your breath hitches when it reaches the bottom of your nightgown before continuing up under the garment.

You rub your legs together before you hear a laugh and someone saying in a deep static laced voice. “My Oh my who knew the pretty little nun would be so naughty”

The hand brushes against your Clothed cunt. Rubbing against your bundle of nerves pulling an unwanted moan from you before you feel the fabric being pushed to the side and something entering you.

You slam your legs shut or at least try to, another hand holds them open. The hands are big, bigger than any humans. You can hear the wet sound of your cunt as the finger moves in and out of you pulling another moan. You feel your nipples harden, and a tingling sensation all over your body. This is wrong. You should want it to stop but you want more.

The hand pulls away right before you reach your climax and you feel tears well up in your eyes. You're about to beg or prey. You don't know which one will get you further in this situation.

The entity who was touching you laughs and coos at you. “Aw does the poor little nun want more?” You whine, embarrassed.

It laughs again. “If I was a nicer man I would help you but unfortunately for you I enjoy watching you suffer.”

Another whine as tears start you fall down your cheek. You feel a cold finger slide against your cheek picking up the tear.

“if you want to come So bad do it yourself”

And you do. You touch yourself in ways you've never thought of before all to the sound of static. You're about to cum when your eyes shoot open and you realize it was all a dream. You're uncomfortable. Feeling a wetness in your panties and an ache between your legs.

You rub your legs together trying to ease the ache but it isn't helping. You get up and change your panties, hoping that will fix the problem.

When it doesn't, the voice of the entity that haunts you rang in your head. “If you want to cum so Bad do it yourself”

You lay down on your bed, pull your nightgown up and panties down, spreading your legs. You take a deep breath as you stare At the ceiling and let your hand travel Down your body. Jumping when you touch your cunt. You feel the sticky, slick fluid oozing out if you. You suck in a deep breath, jerking with every move of your finger. You are sensitive. Of course you are, you've never been touched like this before.

You find your bud and start at a slow pace, rubbing. A moan slips past your lips but it doesn't feel the same. You try thinking about someone but the only man you know is Father Paul. You can't convince yourself to think about him when doing this lewd act.

You let your mind wander and before you know it you're thinking about a man you've only met in your dreams. He's not even a man anymore, he's a demon.

You moan again as you speed up your finger, starting to feel good. “oh” you moan as you grab your tit and squeeze. You arch your back at the feeling.

You keep rubbing but it's not enough. Static fills you senses and you hear a deep voice say “put a finger in”

No you can't do that. You can't enter your virgin cunt. You can't even use tampons When on your period so you definitely can't do that. You have to be pure.

“But you're not pure~”

You whine trying to cum but it just isn't enough.

“No one will know”

Another whine when you think about how it felt in your dream. Why did it have to feel so good. Images of the demon flash in your mind. Him between your legs, licking you. Him on top of you or you on top of him in nothing but your coif as you bounce on him, grinding down, throwing your head back as you let out a pleasurable scream.

“Oh god” you whine

“God isn't going to help you. But I can”

“Please” you cry as you rub harder to the images in your mind

��Be a good girl and add a finger and maybe I'll consider it”

You whine but do as the voice says. You slip your hand down lower, coating your fingers on your juices. You take a deep breath and press a finger in, biting your lip to hold back the moan.

You start moving your finger in and out but it still isn't enough. The voice tells you to curl your finger on a come here motion. You do and your back arches off the bed as your mouth falls open in a silent scream.

The static in the room is getting louder, you can feel it on your skin now. Hairs standing on end. You throw your head from side to side wanting more but not knowing what to do, only knowing the pleasure you're giving yourself.

“Such a good girl”

You grip the sheets with your free hand feeling a tingly feeling build In your gut.

“Use your other hand to play with your clit”

You don't think twice about doing it. The voice was right before it had to be right now. You're a moaning mess on your bed. You're trying to be quiet not wanting to wake your sisters. You bite your lip to hold back the sounds.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Trying to be quiet? Well that won't do. I want to hear those pretty Sounds”

You let out a scream as you feel yourself come undone, eyes rolling back. Back arching.

You lay there trying to catch your breath. You're a mess, nightgown wrinkled and hair in knots. Your breathing is heavy and you need new panties.

“Keep listenin’ to me darlin’. Well have lost of fun”

That's the last thing you hear before drifting back to sleep. That night you dream of static and a demon who you hear stories about, stories that warn you how dangerous he is and not to be tricked by him.

But how can a demon who made you feel so good be so bad?

Table Of Contents, Next chapter

[dragon-kazansky]

When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Notes: Use of Y/N. Sorry.

Chapter Two - Broken wing

☆☆☆

The moment the seal was broken and Morpheus was able to escape, he took that chance. His time in that glass cage was over.

It had been decades since your death. He had never recovered from witnessing it.

You had been his loyal raven since the very beginning. Way back when he first created the Dreaming, he made you. The Sandman always had a raven. Jessamy came along eventually, but you had been his original raven companion.

Watching you die broke a part of him. You had taken a part of him with you forever. Morpheus knew he would never ever get over this loss.

He wakes up to the sound of a familiar voice calling out to him. Lucienne appears above him and reaches for his hand. He takes it and smiles. It had been too long.

"Lucienne." He whispers her name.

"You're home, my lord."

"I am."

Lucienne helps him to his feet. Morpheus looks around. They are just outside his kingdom. He sets his eyes on the gates and heads that way. Lucienne follows him.

As relived as she was fo see him, Lucienne had a lot she needed to talk to him about. "Forgive me, sir, but the realm, the palace, they are not as you left them."

The gate opens, and Morpheus is greeted by the sight of his fallen kingdom. Nothing is as he remembered it. The Dreaming was falling apart. His palace had deteriorated greatly, and there was not a soul in sight.

"What happened here?" He asks. "Who did this?"

"My lord, you are the Dreaming. The Dreaming is you." With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to decay and crumble." Lucienne explains.

"And the residents? The palace staff?"

"I'm afraid most have gone."

"Gone?" His voice is soft when he asks that.

"Some went looking for you," Lucienne says.

"And the others?"

"They thought, perhaps, you had grown weary of your duties, and..."

"What? Abandoned them? Had they such little faith in me? Had my own subjects not known me?" He looked wounded.

Lucienne could already see his heart had been hurt deeply already, and she knew why. Jessamy had explained everything to her when she returned all those years ago. When she had returned alone.

Except, something had happened. Something neither of them could explain. Now Lucienne needed to tell Lord Morpheus about it. She wasn't quite sure how he would take it.

Before she could even utter a word, Morpheus was already heading toward what remained of his palace. She caught up to him quietly.

"There is one other thing, my lord."

"What is it? What other news could you possibly have for me?" He sounded lost.

"Something happened. Something I can not explain." Lucienne wasn't even sure how she was going to tell him.

"What is it?"

"I... I'm not sure how to tell you, so I'll show you." She goes on ahead, leading the way. Morpheus watches her carefully and follows her path.

They reach the doors to the throne room. Morpheus freezes when he sees Jessamy perched nearby. She looks at him and them bows her head.

"My lord."

"Jessamy..."

He looks relieved to see her, but it also pains him. She sees the way his eyes glaze over. He is remembering that day. Jessamy can't help feeling like she's a painful reminder of what happened last time she saw him, but she hopes things will go well today.

He is home, and he will see that not all is as dire as it seems.

"I am glad to see you," he says.

"As am I, my lord." Jessamy looks at him proudly.

Lucienne places her hand on the grand door to the throne room. "Before we go inside, I want you to know that this is no trick. She came to us shortly after Jessamy returned."

"What are you talking about? Who came to you?" He asks.

Lucienne glanced at Jessamy, who nodded at her. The librarian opens the door. It creaks as it opens wider. Jessamy flies inside while Lucienne leads Dream into the room.

The throne room matches the rest of the palace. There is no longer a ceiling. The arches are broken in places. A lot of the walls have crumbled. It no longer looks as regal and beautiful as it once did.

As Lucienne takes him further into the room, his eyes are drawn to a strange woman he has never seen before. She sits on the steps of his throne, looking at him. As he gets closer, she stands. He would say she looked rather nervous.

"My lord."

"Who is this?" He asks Lucienne.

"Sir, it is important you know that I do not know how this has happened, but this is your raven. Y/N."

Morpheus turns his head to the woman slowly. His expression is intense. He stares at her in silence for several long seconds.

"No."

"Sir?" Lucienne looks at him confused.

"My raven died years ago. She was murdered by that horrible family."

"My lord, we are telling the truth. This woman is your raven. Shortly after Jessamy returned here, this woman appeared, unconscious, outside of the gates. I asked her who she was and where she had come from after she woke. She told me everything she remembered up until the moment she died." Lucienne tries to explain.

"That's not possible."

You look at him sadly. "It's me, sir. I really am here. I... I woke up, and I was no longer a raven. I was so confused and scared. I was worried about you. I remember dying..."

Morpheus looks like he is overwhelmed. His eyes glisten with unshed tears. You can tell just by looking at him that he's not taking all of this so well.

"It can't be..."

"It is. Its me. I'm here. I'm home." You plead with him.

Jessamy lands on your shoulder. "My lord, I promise to you as your loyal raven, this is her. She's human."

Morpheus looks at you for a good few seconds. "Prove it."

"You are Dream of the Endless. The Sandman. You created me back at the start of everything to be your loyal companion. I have gone everywhere with you.

"You met a man called Hob Gadling in 1389. I went with you, but had to stay outside because I was a mere bird. Death granted him immortality.

"I would spend a lot of my free time within Fiddler's Green, enjoying the breeze under my wings as I soured through the meadows. You always knew to find me there."

Morpheus states at you.

"It's me, sir. I don't know why I have returned to you like this, but it's me."

"It is you," he whispers. Only you would know things like that.

"I... I'm sorry I failed you."

"No. You did not fail me. You saved Jessamy, and that was very brave of you. Neither of you have ever failed me."

You and Jessamy look relieved at his words.

"So, you are human?" He asks.

"Well, I have a human form. I... I can transform onto a raven still, but I haven't learnt how to control it yet."

"Transform? You have the power to be a raven again?" He sounds curious.

"Yes, but like I said. I'm still learning."

"I see."

The room goes quiet. You understand that this is probably a lot to take in for him. He's only just returned, his kingdom has fallen, his people are mostly gone, and you're not dead. It's been a long day.

Morpheus turns and looks around his throne room. His mind is full of thoughts about everything.

"I kept a journal for a while," Lucienne says, hoping to distract him a little. "A chronicle of everything that happened in your absence. But slowly, the words began to fade. Sometime after you left, all the books in the library became bound volumes of blank paper. The next day, the whole library was gone."

Morpheus looks at her quietly.

"I never found it again."

"And yet you remained while others fled, the royal librarian of an abandoned kingdom."

"I never felt abandoned," she tells him. "I knew you would return."

"She looked after us," Jessamy says. "We stuck together."

Morpheus glances at you before turning away. He was still trying to comprehend you being alive. He looks down at his feet where a sharp of purple glass sits. He kneels down and picks it up. It's a piece of his beautiful stained glass windows. He holds it on his hand as he slowly raises his arms, trying to summon the power to rebuild his home.

He's too weak to do that.

The debris falls to the ground again, and Morpheus falls with them. He can't rebuild his home like this.

You want to reach out and comfort him, but you feel like that's a bad idea right now. You're not sure he's all that accepting of you being back just yet.

"You need rest, my Lord." Lucienne says. "And food and perhaps a bit more rest, and then you'll be back at full strength."

Morpheus slowly gets up from the floor, his breathing heavy and uneven. "No. Not without my tools."

"Your tools?"

"My sand, my helm, my ruby."

"What happened to them?" You ask.

"They were taken from me. By my captors. And then taken from them. I know not where. Nor what I am without them."

You feel your heart break. They really did strip him of everything he had. Even you.

He takes a seat on the stairs of his throne. You put some distance between you both. Once upon a time, you would be right there beside him, trying to comfort him, but now it feels wrong to do so. You feel like a stranger with him now. He won't look at you anymore.

"There is only one sure way for me to find my tools. I must summon the Three-In-One."

"Surely it hasn't come to that." Lucienne says.

"The Fates see past, present, and future, and they know all."

"Yes, but they speak in riddles. They never tell you what you want to know, only things you should never know," Lucienne explains. "Perhaps just this once you could ask one of your siblings for help. Destiny would certainly know where your tools are, or Desire..."

"My siblings have their own realms to attend to, I have mine. We do not interfere in each other's affairs." Dream states.

"You may not, but they've certainly been known to." Lucienne replies. "Perhaps just this once you could tell them what happened to you."

"I am quite sure tjeu know what happened to me. And not one of them came to my aid."

You drip your gaze to the ground. It hurts to think how abandoned he must have felt. He was trapped for so long.

"The only ones who came to help were my ravens, and even then, one of them was hurt doing so."

You lift your gaze to find Morpheus looking at you. You're unable to read the look on his face, but you know it sets your heart alight. You wondered what was going through his head in that moment.

"The Fates aren't cheap, you know." Lucienne reminds him. "They cost a bloody fortune."

"And at present, I cannot muster enough power to summon them, let alone lay that cost. Unless... Is there anything of mine that remains in the Dreaming? Something I created?"

"You created all of this," Lucienne says.

"No, something that remains intact." He clarifies. "That may retain some fragment of my power within it."

"You created me." You say, stepping forward.

He glances at you. "No."

"Something I can absorb."

You go to tell him you would happily sacrifice yourself for him to regain some power again, but the look he was giving you told you he would refuse.

"There is one thing," Lucienne says.

☆☆☆

Morpheus had left to go visit Cain and Abel. You stayed behind at the palace with Jessamy. He hadn't said a word to you as he was leaving.

"Are you okay?" Jessamy asks, looking up at you through her shiny eyes.

"He didn't seem too pleased to see me."

"Don't take it to heart. A lot has happened all at once. He believed you were dead. It would be quite a shock to see someone you thought had died standing before you, especially since you look human now."

"I know... I just... I just hoped he would be happy to know I'm okay." You look down at thr rubble by your feet.

"I'm sure he is happy. He just doesn't know how to express it."

You don't know what else to say to her. Jessamy senses your sadness and nudges her head against your leg.

"Please don't feel sad. All will come right, I promise."

You really want to believe her.

Lucienne returns to the throne room, and you spot a raven at her feet. She comes over and you stand.

"Lord Morpheus has gone to see the Fates. He shall return shortly. A new companion has joined us in the meantime. This is Matthew."

You look at the raven. Had you been replaced already?

"Lord Morpheus has yet to meet Matthew. Will you show him the ropes in the meantime?" Lucienne asks.

"Yes..."

She picks up on the fact that your response wasn't very enthusiastic. She sighs softly and places a hand on your shoulder.

"Do not feel sad. He will come around."

You nod and watch her go. Your eyes fall to Matthew. Jessamy lands on the ground in front of him and checks him out. "All right, Matthew. Welcome to Raven Class 101."

You chuckle softly.

At least you still had some friends in the Dreaming.

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @sitkafay - @snowsatsu - @ladyofketterdam - @thoughtsfromlayla -

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Fic idea that I am feral about right now because Wayward Son played on my walk this morning.

cw: Nikprice, alternative universe, mentions of torture, canon-typical violence, mention of internalised homophobia, Supernatural influences (sorry).

So, my partner commented on how Nikolai is like Price's guardian angel, because he always seems to be there when Price needs him (including when Price explicitly says it's a "one way trip"; Nik finds a way).

I laughed at the time, then promptly got headshot and threw the controller down, but wait.

What if he... is.

Sergeant Price dies in an Al Qaeda prison cell. They torture him for days, pushing his body into shock and then eventually into organ failure. Even with all the training, there's only so much a human body can take. Because he has done some pretty heinous shit already by this point, obviously his soul has a one-way ticket to the hot place and it ain't Mallorca.

But he has a fan.

An angel that has been watching him for a while. Price comes from a Protestant family, and he used to pray almost every night for god to make him "normal". To take away the unnatural feelings he had. To help him make his family proud. The angel used to listen and want to intervene, to tell him he's perfect the way he is, but there are rules.

After the... incident, Price stopped praying. (For those that know my headcanon, it's that, but I won't go into it here cause it would need a whole plethora of tags.)

The angel noticed.

In fact, he (we're going with that because it's Nik, but we all know angels are a... they? it?) misses the sound of Price's voice. He heads down to find out what happened and ends up visiting Price as he joins the service, becomes the very best, works hard, but always carries that deep sadness. He commits himself to getting dirty so others don't have to. Knowingly, given his faith, putting his soul on the line. The angel falls in love with Price, body and soul.

When Price dies, the angel can't stand the idea that someone who sacrificed for others is condemned to hell, simply because of what he had to do. So, he rebels. His last act before he is cast out is to wrench Price from hell and deposit him back into his body, and his first act on earth as one of the Fallen is to occupy the body of a lost and conflicted Russian Pilot, pushing him to accept the enticement of the US and the UK so Nik can reach Price. The guy has all but given up on life, so it's a mercy, really.

Price wakes up in an open mass grave and scrambles over to the corpses to safety. He doesn't know how or why, but he doesn't pause to think. He finds a radio, manages to get a message out, steals some weapons and some intel, blows the place sky high. Gets a medal.

The medics on base give him a clean bill of health but for some bruising and a broken bone or two. It's a bloody miracle.

A few weeks later, Price meets Nik for the first time because he's been drafted in as a pilot, and, for some reason, feels like he's known him for a lifetime. Nik thinks Price is the most beautiful thing in this world and the next, and wants to spend another few billion years looking into those blue-blue eyes.

The angel doesn't know why. Perhaps it's because he's so human. So flawed, so broken, so grizzled. Price isn't the dark underbelly of humanity and he's not the glittering hero; he is the scrappy, stubborn, imperfect, beautiful reality of the human condition, without apology.

To Nik, he's perfect.

And just... the heartbreak, the fear, the yearning, as Price falls for this tall, dark Russian who is always there. Always looks at him like he's worth something. Battling with the internal conflict of what he wants and what he should want, and realising the only thing holding him back now is the ghost of a man who can't hurt him anymore.

The betrayal, the disbelief, as Nik is forced to reveal what he is. The apology, the love confession, from both sides. The god damned wing kink when Nik takes them in the wilderness, high enough so that Price can almost touch god as Nik makes love to him for the first time; great, dark wings wrapped around them as if they could shield Price from ever being harmed again.

Nik ties his soul, his being, to Price's mortality. They'll grow old together, they'll turn grey, and after a billion years the angel will die at his lover's side, knowing that wherever their souls might end up, they will be together.

[starlazergazer]

Fallen Sick

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Summary: With a threat of invasion hanging over your head your role as senator has never felt more important. Your immune system, however, seemed to disagree as you fall sick instead. However, unwilling to slow down even a little to try and curb the sickness leads to Anakin having to follow you around taking care of you.

Warnings: None little bit of angst but mostly fluffy Anakin worrying about you

Word count: 4k

A/N: No request for this one but was something I wrote to help me get back into the mood for writing. Thank you so much for everyone who sent messages checking on me in the last month I really appreciate you!! Also I hope you like this piece I wrote it pretty much for fun so enjoy!

You tried your best to ignore how much harder it seemed to breathe in this moment, only allowing your mouth to open mere centimeters to allow air to pass through, your nose far too clogged to breathe through it.

Around you conversation of the incoming separatist forces swelled but you had since given up listening, instead choosing to fight your eyelids as they threatened to close, already having lost the posture war with your spine as you slumped over in your chair.

You could feel the sweat accumulate on your back, regretting your choice in thick, warm clothing in this moment though you could remember minutes ago when you were shivering, angry at yourself for not choosing something even warmer.

In this moment you could feel your body’s need for rest but refused to give in to it. The separatist army was a day out from the city, the clone army you had to beg the senate to send over was currently being welcomed to the area and despite the evacuation notice the city was still at 30% capacity. Despite whatever your body seemed to think you needed you were not slowing down until you knew your home was safe.

With no warning you swiftly closed your notebook before you, giving your advisors around the table a stiff nod as you stood “it’s a good plan and I have complete faith in it but at a certain point there is only so much more we can discuss before the separatist army inevitably descends”

You were met with solemn nods in agreement all around before your secretary of defense spoke up “we will stop them before they reach the city senator, the clone army you brought in will help with that”

And though you wanted to believe his words you couldn’t help but doubt them, see them for the empty promise meant only to console you that they were, but you couldn’t help but appreciate them, giving him a small smile and a final nod before making for the exit.

The door before you slid open to reveal Anakin Skywalker standing just on the other side, already expecting you. A small smile started to grow at the sight though quickly dropped from your face as you saw what he was holding, a glass of water and two small pills.

“Ani-“ you groaned softly with a roll of your eyes, pushing past him to continue down the hallway, Anakin quickly falling into step beside you.

“Don’t Ani me” he shook his head “just take the pills”

“I don’t need them” you objected, refusing to make eye contact, picking up your pace ever so slightly trying to hurry to the next meeting.

“Okay” he shrugged nonchalantly “let me check then”

Your pace hiccupped, a brief pause in your step as you side eyed him “Anakin-“

“Come on” he interrupted your whine, already shifting the pills to his other hand so that he had one free “two seconds just let me check”

With a small huff you stopped on the spot, turning to face Anakin giving him the opportunity to press the back of his hand to your forehead. And though you knew he wouldn’t have a good reaction you were still a little startled when his skin made contact for no more than a second before he was pulling his hand back with a hiss, eyes wide as he looked down at you.

“Oh you’re being dramatic” you rolled your eyes, going back to walking down the hallway.

Anakin lagged behind you for only a second before catching back up with you “You’re burning up Y/N”

“I’m fine” you urged him, putting as much force into your voice as possible as you tried to storm ahead “and I’m late so if you could-“

Your words died as Anakin hurried ahead of you, stopping right in front of you, physically blocking your path with crossed arms.

You froze before him, glaring up at him with your own crossed arm, a battle of wills you knew you were going to lose though it was still worth a try.

“I’m not trying to be difficult-“ Anakin started though you quickly interrupted.

“Really? Then what are you doing right now keeping me from my next meeting?”

He sighed dramatically, again extending the hand with the pills in it to you “Just take the pills Y/N, then I’ll let you go”

And in that moment you chose to ignore the ‘let you’ comment, instead quickly grabbing the medication from his hand, tossing them in your mouth and taking the water from him to wash them down. Not waiting a second you pushed past him as soon as you swallowed, your shoulder pushing his back as you stormed past.

You got no more than a few steps before you felt his fingers wrapping around your forearm, pulling you back softly. You spun around to glare at Anakin, trying to ignore the way his expression softened as he looked down at you.

“Look Y/N I’m just trying to help” he seemed to plead with you, his voice dropping down to just above a whisper “I know there is a lot going on right now and you’re needed by everyone but you need to do at least the bare minimum to take care of yourself. You can’t help anyone if you can’t stand on your own feet”

And despite how much you disliked it you had to admit he was right, anger slowly starting to sink down within you as you took a deep breath, unable to do much more than give him a small nod before turning back around and making your way further down the hallway.

-

You weren’t too surprised to see Anakin waiting for you in the hallway after your next meeting, though you were sure there was better things he should have been doing in that moment.

“Med time again already?” You asked him with a tentative teasing tone, feeling relief as you watched a soft smile grow on his face as he approached you.

“Got another two hours” He answered, “just wanted to come check on you”

You appreciated the truce the two of you seemed to have fallen into, though still refused to flat out admit that the medication was the right call. “I’m okay”

“Yeah I’ve heard that before” he responded skeptically, eyes scanning you as he tried to figure out if you looked any better.

You opened your mouth to respond when you heard your name being called from across the hall. You spun to see councilman Tusken heading in your direction with an eager smile on his face.

“Councilman” you greeted him, both you and Anakin turning to address the man as he approached “how are you?”

“I’m doing well” he smiled down at you “I just wanted to let you know-“

And suddenly it was as if your hearing had stopped working, a high pitched ringing sounded in your ear instead as you flinched ever so slightly, doing your best to act as if you were still listening.

The councilman noticed nothing as he continued to drone on though your head started to spin, your body swaying ever so slightly as you fought to keep your balance, feeling your heartbeat in your neck.

“Councilman I’m so sorry” you interrupted him, knowing you needed to cut of the conversation as soon as possible “I just realized I’m running late do you mind if I find you later?”

“No no not at all” he assured you politely, already retreating back across the hall as he spoke “it can wait”

You waited until the councilman was out of sight before collapsing into Anakin’s side, the Jedi’s quick reflexes proving useful as he caught you against him effortlessly.

“I’m-I’m sorry” You mumbled against him, trying to push yourself off his torso and back to your feet, using Anakin’s balance to anchor yourself better, noticing that the room seemed to stop spinning around you at least “I don’t know what that was”

Anakin helped you shift your weight back to your own feet though his hands never left your sides, as he stooped down to your eye level, worried blue eyes bouncing back and forth between your own “Yeah come on” he nodded slightly as he stood back up to his full height, pulling you softly forward “you’re going to lie down”

“No” you protested weekly, trying to shake his hands off of you “I need to-“ you couldn’t seem to get out full sentences, the disorientation taking full effect as you fought the intense urge to sit down on the spot “I need to speak to councilman Chall about the evacuation”

“Y/N you can’t even stand right now” Anakin argued, again trying to pull you though you stayed rooted on the spot.

“We’re still at 30%” you argued back with a weak shake of your head “We need to get them out”

Anakin sighed softly, reluctantly giving up on his efforts to pull you forward before coming back to your eye level “what if I personally oversaw the evacuation effort?”

You drew your eyebrows together at that, scrunching up your face at him “you?”

And he couldn’t help but laugh softly at your expression, giving his head another soft shake “If you agree right now to go back to your room and take a nap I will get every person out of the area if I have to carry them out myself”

And despite everything you felt your resolve crumble a little bit, feeling the sincerity in his words, knowing that if you were to trust the effort with anyone it would be Anakin. “You’ll make sure they’re safe”

His hands came down to grab both of yours, giving them a soft squeeze “I promise you I will do everything I can to make sure everyone is safe”

After a brief pause you knew there was no more you could do, no better you could ask honestly, and so you agreed, nodding your head at him albeit reluctantly “Okay fine”

At this Anakin broke out into a grin, pulling you forward again and happy to see that you followed him this time “Good because I don’t know how to put this nicely but you look like crap Y/N”

A chuckle escaped you as you let yourself be pulled along “you sure know how to charm a woman Skywalker”

-

You never liked to give Anakin the satisfaction of knowing he was right, very familiar with the smirk he always gave you that was more adorable than it had any business being, the look in his eye that told you he was going to hold it over your head for years to come. None of it was worth the trouble.

But even you had to admit the nap was the right call.

You woke up feeling more refreshed than you had ever been, feeling for the first time in days as if you were truly fitting in your own skin, truly cognizant of the world. Your head felt lighter, softer, your muscles no longer groaning with the slightest movements, you felt good.

With a content sigh you picked yourself up into a sitting position, gaze falling to the window naturally, taking in the high noon sun without feeling a sharp pang in your head for the first time in days.

You took a deep breath, taking a moment to truly appreciate the break in your fever before it hit you, high noon sun. It had been mid afternoon when you went to bed, the only way there could be a high noon sun was if it was the next day, the day of the separatist army’s invasion.

You were on your feet in the next second, sprinting to your closet pulling out the first outfit you could find. You vaguely noted the sound of the door opening as you dressed in the closet, head poking out as you heard a voice call out.

“I’m glad to see you on your feet senator”

You smiled at Jaina your advisor, throwing a shirt over your head before hopping out of the closet struggling to pull your foot into your shoe as you did so. “More than that I feel fantastic”

And though you had a smile on your face you watched Jaina’s own fall as she took in your outfit. “You’re dressed to go out?”

“Yes” you answered simply, as if it were obvious “the separatist army should be reaching the edge of the city any minute now”

“They arrived half an hour ago” she answered softly, as if she didn’t really want to tell you that.

You swore softly under your breath, going back into the closet to grab your blaster, you’d slept too long.

“I’ve been told by Master Skywalker to watch you” she called back to you as you tucked your blaster into its holster.

“And you’ve done an excellent job” You called back to her “I feel great”

“I-“ she stuttered slightly “I’m not sure you can leave”

You raised a brow at her, already making your way to the door “I can do whatever I want, no matter what Master Skywalker said, he is in charge of neither me nor you”

“Right it’s just that-“ and that was all you let her get out before you left the room.

-

You spotted a familiar trooper in position behind a piece of rubble, taking shots over it when the opportunity presented itself.

You ran up beside him, your back connecting a little too harsly with the stone as you came to a stop, your chest heaving with your quick shallow breaths as you shouted over the battle around you. “What’re we looking at?”

His helmet turned ever so slightly for just a moment, do doubt getting a brief look from the corner of his eye before he let out a loud sigh, “Oh the general’s not going to like this”

You let out a soft chuckle with a shake of your head, taking the brief pause in lasers flying over your head as an opportunity to get a shot out before answering “what the general doesn’t know won’t hurt him”

“Right well do me a favor and make sure the general doesn’t figure it out” Rex sighed, just in time for a familiar voice to sound.

“Make sure the general doesn’t figure out what” Anakin’s smug voice sounded just before his body came flying over the rubble you were hiding behind, the jedi effortlessly vaulting the large rock before slamming his back to it just as you had done, his head snapping almost immediately to you, any smirk immediately dropping from his face as he took you in, “what are you doing here?”

You heard Rex faintly mutter a “great” under his breath before you could answer with a  roll of your eyes.

“I’m here to help”

Another break in the shooting giving you just enough time to spring up and get off a shot though just as you shifted your weight Anakin’s hand shot to your shoulder, pulling you back down to your kneeling position “What do you mean you’re here to help?” It almost came out as more of a demand than a question. “You’re sick you’re supposed to be resting you’re-” throughout his rambling his hands had started roaming your arms, checking for any issues before coming up to your face, the back of a hand resting against your forehead, before going to your check “you actually seem to be feeling a bit better” and despite everything going on around you a small smile grew on his face.

“I am” you nodded with a small smile of your own, “So I came to help”

The smile dropped from his face on the spot, the seriousness of a jedi general taking over once again “I don’t care how well you’re feeling now you cannot be here”

“I serve this planet not you” you countered “I’m not going anywhere”

Anakin looked down at you in dejection, unsure of what he could say in this moment to get you to leave when an explosion sounded from one street over, eliciting a string of swear words under Anakin’s breath.

He gave you one last look or warning before vaulting over the rubble calling out Rex’s name as he did so.

“I’ve got her General” Rex called out as Anakin took off down the street.

You took the opportunity to peak up and get another shot out, already planning out your route for advancement as you did so. “You’ve got me huh?”

“Just don’t get yourself killed okay?” Rex grumbled as he took a few shots of his own “I’d never hear the end of it”

You smirked at him, sending him a quick wink before jumping over the rubble, counting on Rex to cover you as you did so without a second thought.

-

You stared down at the piles of destroyed robots discarded simply to the side of the street, and tried not to let your own despair take over. You had won, the separatist army had been forced to retreat, the city was safe but at what cost? Buildings had been destroyed beyond hope of repair, people’s homes, businesses, their livelihoods all gone. You didn’t even want to know how many of your own had died in the fight, a fight that didn’t even feel like your own.

“You shouldn’t have done that” A familiar voice sounded from over your shoulder, you didn’t turn your head to respond. “You had nearly collapsed in the hallway hours ago you need to be in bed”

“I made it” you voice came out hollow, your eyes never tearing from the metal scraps below “I’m fine”

“Come here” you heard him sigh, his body coming in to block your view as he raised a hand to your forehead.

You slapped it away without a second thought, rolling your eyes as you took a step back from him “I said I’m fine”

“And I’ve heard those words before” He insisted, taking back the step you had put between the two of you “they were a lie then, are they a lie now?”

“I’m a big girl Anakin” you challenged, raising your chin to make eye contact with him for the first time “I know how to take care of myself”

“Do you?” he challenged, his voice raising slightly as the frustration built in it “because you’re so out of things it looks like you struggle to get through a simple conversation and you say you’re fine, you run a fever so hot your skin is uncomfortable to touch and you say you’re fine, you nearly collapse in a hallway because your legs can’t support your own weight and you say you’re fine. Then I finally manage to get you to slow down and take some medication and a nap and I find you in the middle of a battlefield hours later. That is not taking care of yourself Y/N that is a death wish”

“You’re being dramatic” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms defensively over yourself, avoiding eye contact with Anakin while he pointedly stared back at you.

“I’m not-“ Anakin exclaimed loudly before cutting himself off, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose before he let out a deep sigh, crossing his arms in front of him before his gaze returned to you “Look it’s over, the city’s safe, they’re loading up the transports I’ve got to go”

He turned around with little more notice, barely giving you time to react.

“Hold on what?” You reached out to grab his wrist, stopping him in his place.

“Missions over” he shrugged off your hold, already taking steps back, his voice small and hollow “I’m glad you’re feeling better Y/N, really”

And with that he turned to leave again, giving you seconds to debate your next move before instinct took over and you yelled out the first thing you could think of “I don’t like feeling helpless”

Thankfully Anakin paused at your voice, not turning around to face you but at least listening.

“I love being a senator and working to create systematic change but a lot of the time it feels useless, we’re so far removed on Coruscant” You sighed, watching hopefully as Anakin slowly turned to make eye contact with you “Then all of a sudden there was a threat of invasion, people on my home planet people I swore to protect were in real immediate danger and I had the ability to provide real, tangible help, and I was just supposed to let some cold take me out? Give up on everyone because I’ve got the sniffles”

Anakin sighed at your words, leaning against the wall “It was more than just the sniffles Y/N”

“I know that” you assured him quickly “or at least I did by yesterday but at first it was something I could just push through, and there was so much going on, so many people asking for my advice I felt like I couldn’t let them down, couldn’t let my home down”

“That’s why you have a staff, have people to work with, people you can trust to take over when you can’t do it” His voice seemed to grow softer and more empathetic with every word, his tone practically begging you to listen to what he was saying, to really listen.

“I know it’s just-“ You sighed, running a frustrated hand through your hair as you spoke “isn’t it selfish to put your own needs before those of an entire planet?”

At this Anakin chuckled softly, the sight of his smile even if it was just a small one breaking through a few layers of ice, a weight lifted off your chest. He pushed himself off the wall and came to stand right in front of you, bowing down slightly to stare directly into your eyes “Not if putting yourself first now means you can continue to serve this planet later”

Doubtfully you stared back at him, your eyes dancing wordlessly back and forth between his, Anakin picking up on your doubt quickly before continuing “You can’t help anyone if you’re stuck in a med bay,” he sighed “It’s better to do little things now than be completely taken out later. That means you can’t run yourself into the ground Y/N, that means not pushing yourself through work till you physically collapse and especially not rushing onto an active battlefield. You need to take care of yourself because I won’t always be here to do it for you”

Reluctantly you nodded with a small sigh, looking up at him through your lashes as he straightened back up to his full height, a small, satisfied smile on his face at your agreeance. “Does that include now?” you asked him softly.

He chuckled at that, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his side as he led you back to the capital “I suppose I can ‘accidentally’ miss my transport ship for the next few days”

“Good” you responded cheerfully, happily leaning into him as you walked “because I’m not sure if I’ll be able to walk anywhere for the next few days. You’ll have to carry me”

“mmmhm” he hummed back in amusement, giving you a soft squeeze from the side.

“Wouldn’t want to push myself too hard”

“No we wouldn’t” he agreed

“And how’s your cooking cause I think homemade soup is exactly what I need to get better”

“Don’t push your luck princess”

[ominouspuff]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: In a new post, show your latest line (artwork or written), and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like)!

Tagged by @rooksunday (well you know what this one is going to be)

This time you caught me writing a fic snippet for the RepGA AU to feel out characterization. I’m sharing the whole snippet though for fun, not just one line.

———————————

“Everything is normal.

It is grating against his skin and lighting up his veins in red-hot acid. He is choked by it, throat clotted and breath thin. Betrayal stings in his chest — directionless and worthless and misguided, because he cannot truly fault his shaking legs when he doesn’t know what’s wrong with them.

It is weakness, and it is getting worse.

“Yes, Senator,” He manages, and is grimly relieved that the man does not look askance at Fox — does not seem to notice the tremor in his voice at all. The words come mechanically, his inflection seven levels from perfection, which is six too many to forgive.

“Make sure they are your best,” The Senator is saying, not unkindly but blindly, focus tighter than a pinprick, for which Fox is grateful. “We cannot tolerate abuse on the delegation, not even a whisper of it. I have tried to reason with them, but the students are young and their professors passionate — they are so set on fighting to be heard, with an unfortunate emphasis on the physicality of that action…”

Fox nods. “Well,” He says, as if perturbed and accepting all at once — but can afford no more. He might be sick if he opens his mouth too far.

“Well, indeed.” The man nods, wrinkles scrunching, eyes fogged by inward thought. He sucks his sharp teeth. “Well. I must regroup with Senator Organa I fear, I expect your units will be timely?”

“Yes.” Fox confirms and denies all at once — because his ‘units’ are always timely, even when they’re bleeding, and having those expectations is no business of the Senator’s. It is a Guard matter.

There are many Guard matters. One of them is Thorn, lost in the seventh level as of fifteen minutes before Fox inclined his helmet to a Senator, answering the summon. Thorn, with his two faithful CTs and orders from a sectorial mayor. Thorn, who looked at Fox before he left and did not point out his shaking fingers, only nodded with sharp eyes and a tight mouth and trust bleeding out of him in streams.

“It’s normal, Fox. Don’t stress it.”

The Senator leaves, satisfied and indulging his perturbation over the youth, as is typical of the man lately. Fox stiffly reverses his direction, marching to the nearest service stairwell. He wrenches it open, but does not let the door bang. It takes excruciating effort to close it still more gently behind him, to step without staggering or tightening his aching fists.

He runs, already flipping on his comm. Voices answer, their pitch perfect, their diction flawless, their sound near identical, and Fox’s pride is a balm against the cold that perpetually tightens his chest and throws his stride off beat.

He uses numbers, not their names — never their names, on the comm. Directives come quick, but not smooth. There is a breath of hesitation that betrays how far he has fallen, that they notice even here, before all chorus affirmatives and sign off. A ping comes from Thire, inquisitive and absurd. Fox pings back once, raising the urgency, and Thire duly does not repeat himself.

They cannot afford to discuss that Fox can barely breathe — and Thire would do worse, asking why.

By the time he reaches his office, he is in agony. Thire is waiting there, according to his orders. He knows better than to speak — not here, not now — but his eyes are glittering wetly with concern and uncertainty, and Fox is a shriveled, rotting thing that cannot open his ironbound teeth in the face of it. They strip to blacks, swapping armor with the seamless efficiency of frequent practice. Once Fox has put on every piece of Thire’s armor, he puts on the rest — Thire’s loose hands, Thire’s tilting head, Thire’s light steps. It takes too long. It comes like bits of flesh slotted into gaping holes, alien and painful.

Thire is already standing like a rigid statue by the time Fox has finished, head tilted down slightly, every inch of him looking like Fox’s mirror does.

“8 hours. Meet me back here.” Fox repeats from their talk over comms., shoulders sliding back, and Thire nods solemnly.

Fox leaves the office, stride ever so slightly trembling with the new bounce in his step. He heads for the elevators, the exits, the city outside, the underground that leads down and down and down. His pistol sits heavy on his belt, and Fox’s loose fingers twitch with something feverish that’s settled in his very bones.

Everything is normal, and Fox refuses to let it kill him.”

—————————

Tagging: Reverse-uno, @rooksunday , and anyone else who wants to! (@frostbitebakery and @chiliger , I simply must.)

[flowerandblood]

Wicked prayers, sweet penances

[modern! priest • Aemond x Strong • female]

[warnings: religious guilt, incest, sexual tension, fluff]

[description: Aemond, a deeply religious person, enters the seminary, wanting to fight the thoughts, that have been poisoning his mind for years at the sight of his niece. He returns home as a priest, but the desire he has been running away from returns to him again. A story full of incest, sexual tension and religious guilt.]

Next parts: Masterlist

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

_____

Aemond hadn't prayed as earnestly as he had today in many evenings. His whole body tensed at the thought of what awaited him. He knew that God was testing him again and he felt helpless. He did everything he could to tame his body.

He fasted longer than anyone else, studied and read more than anyone else, prayed more than anyone else. However, it was enough for him to cross the threshold of his family home when she was there, and he would return back to the very beginning of his path.

She was the middle child, younger sister to Jace and older sister to Luke. She inherited from her father beautiful, wavy hair, dexterity and ease of expression, assertiveness. After her mother, or rather her grandmother, Aemma, she received the gift of gentleness, empathy and understanding. Unlike her brothers, she was not easily upset and quarrelsome. Her dark eyebrows contrasted wonderfully with her bright blue eyes.

Though by faith he managed to keep his resentment towards Luke and their past to a minimum, praying every day for his salvation, Aemond's feelings for her felt like a splinter embedded in his heart. He felt embarrassed and despaired that he was unable to rid himself of these sinful and ungodly thoughts.

Even when they were children, he noticed that he had different feelings for her than the rest of the family. She had always been good, affectionate and kind to him. They read books together and fantasized about who they would be in the future. When her father suddenly died in an accident, she had trouble falling asleep. She often crept into his room in the night, crawling under his covers, and he pretended not to notice. He heard her crying softly behind his back.

As soon as he felt she fell asleep, he turned to face her. He would then embrace her and stroke her hair. It seemed to him that he saw her eyelid twitch, that she was only pretending that she was asleep, that she had come to him for this comfort and tenderness.

Sometimes she opened her eyes, and then they looked at each other in silence. They would then lean towards each other and place innocent, short, baby kisses on each other's cheeks and lips. They fell asleep with their foreheads touching each other.

He understood then that he had fallen in love with her, but he didn't realize that this kind of love could not take place with such close relatives. It wasn't until he became a teenager that he realized what he was feeling was wrong. The guilt and self-loathing were unbearable. He was relieved when he lost an eye. He thought maybe that would make her reject him.

He was wrong. After that accident, she wanted to be with him all the time. She stayed by his bedside, read books to him, told him about what was going on at school. He didn't speak to her or look at her.

One evening she asked if she had done anything wrong, feeling that he was drifting away from her in mind and heart. She looked at him pleadingly and all he wanted then, was to kiss her and assure her of his boundless, undying love.

Instead, he said that the problem was with him, and that he didn't want her to visit him anymore. The sight that was painted on her face then he will remembered for the rest of his life. After she left, tears fell from his cheek onto the sheets all night.

His mother often came to him to pray with him. She explained to him that God loves each of His children, and that everything that happens to us has meaning. That he challenges people to make them stronger. As soon as Aemond graduated from high school, he decided to enter the seminary.

He was relieved that he might have found his way in life, his calling. From then on, he rarely came home and made sure his niece was never around. He did everything in his power to forget about her and devote himself entirely to the priestly ministry.

Now, however, his half-sister's wedding was approaching. He knew he couldn't refuse and had to show up at the event. Moreover, he was to marry them in the church in front of their entire family. The very thought made him sick, but he couldn't refuse the pleas of his mother and father.

On the wedding day, he appeared in the sacristy earlier, wanting to prepare everything properly. He felt his whole body tense, his throat felt dry, his hands trembled slightly. He prayed silently that God would give him the strength to go through it all, that he wouldn't let him stray from the right path.

He heard the guests slowly entering the church and shuddered at the thought.

He hadn't seen her for several years.

He wondered what she would look like. He thought that perhaps seeing her would make him feel nothing at all.

Maybe he cares too much about it.

He was pleased with that thought. One of the altar boys helped him put on the proper robes. He left the sacristy from the altar side, trying to look directly at the entrance to the church, not at any of the visitors. He felt his heart pounding.

The ceremony went smoothly. He focused on what he had to do, the stress easing slightly. He sat in a large ornate chair as the altar boy read from the Old Testament, his fingers tapped restlessly against his armrest. Unable to bear the tension and curiosity, his gaze darted to the side, to the benches where people were sitting.

He saw her right away. She sat between Jace and Luke, Jace whispering something in her ear. She listened intently with a slight, amused smile. She was wearing an ornate cream dress with puffed sleeves, part of her hair was pinned back, the rest fell freely on her shoulders. Wildflowers were woven into her hair.

He thought she looked like spring personified.

Shocked, he couldn't take his eye off her. He felt a wave of heat run through his body and a pleasant, familiar thrill of desire. He swallowed hard and froze when he saw their eyes meet, and she stopped her speech in mid-sentence, staring at him with wide eyes.

He thought she would look away, hurt and rejected. But she smiled at him so beautiful, so warmly, as if it was the greatest moment of her life. Her lips trembled, her eyes expressed longing, joy and some indescribable, hot feeling. He felt something snap within him, his mask falling down. He had the impression that in that one moment she could see everything he wanted to hide on his face.

That he reciprocated every single one of her feelings.

He shuddered as he saw the altar boy come down from the platform, and now it was time for him to read a passage from the Gospel. He felt his throat tighten all over, like he wouldn't be able to utter a word. Holding back the trembling of his hands, he opened the Bible at the marked spot.

"This is the law I give you: Have love one for another, even as I have love for you.

Greater love has no man than this that a man gives up his life for his friends. You are my friends, if you do what I give you orders to do. No longer do I give you the name of servants; because a servant is without knowledge of what his master is doing: I give you the name of friends, because I have given you knowledge of all the things which my Father has said to me.

You did not take me for yourselves, but I took you for myself; and I gave you the work of going about and producing fruit which will be for ever; so that whatever request you make to the Father in my name he may give it to you.

This is the gospel of the Lord."

"Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ." The crowd answered him, and they all sat back in their pews to listen to his homily.

He stood silent for a moment, his gaze returning to her. She stared at him with her lips slightly parted, her eyebrows twitching in a mixture of joy and pain at the same time. He looked away from her, trying to focus on what he was about to say.

"Love. We all love someone. It's easy for us to say the word. How can we be sure that we truly love someone? Is it enough that we want to sacrifice ourselves for this person? Is it enough for us to think about him or her every day? Is it enough for us to comfort this person when she collapses in despair?

If you think about it, you will find that man always loves too little. He always loves selfishly, for himself. Therefore, for true love, man needs God. We seek his blessing, even today, here, to reassure ourselves that what we are doing is right. So let us pray today that we may always love properly, as God Himself has taught us.

Amen."

He sat down in his chair, giving the crowd a moment to focus and think about what he said. He was fighting hard not to look at her, his hands and face all clenched and tense. He couldn't help it, his eye darted to her.

He saw her staring at him with tears in her eyes. She looked down as Luke leaned over her, apparently asking her what was wrong. She just cuddled up to her brother's arm, never looking at him again.

The time has come to celebrate the Eucharist. Aemond, chalice in hand, descended several flights of stairs with one of the altar boys, to administer the Eucharist to the faithful. They lined up in front of him. He shivered as he saw out of the corner of his eye that she was standing awaiting her turn, her eyes down to the floor.

After a moment she stood in front of him. They both gasped, as they saw each other for the first time in so many years. Aemond thought she was already a woman, but still looked very girlish. She had a beautiful, slender body, enhanced by the dress she was wearing.

"Body of Christ." He spoke so low and quietly that she probably barely heard him.

"Amen." She answered just as quietly. He shivered at the sound of her voice and the sight of her slightly parted mouth.

He could see her soft, full lips and wet, pink tongue perfectly now. He placed the Eucharist on her tongue, her lips lightly brushing the skin of his fingers as he removed his hand. He could feel its wetness on his skin, and he couldn't stop the feeling of heat that he felt in the lower part of his body. He was glad the robe covered him.

When it was over, he locked himself in the sacristy, stripping off his robes impatiently and furiously. He ran a hand over his face, wondering if he should even go to the wedding if a few seconds with her had left him in such a state. However, he promised his mother that he would stay there at least for the first two hours, so as not to upset the bride and groom.

Resigned, he backed out of the church and headed for his car, heading straight to the wedding hall. He was wearing only black pants and a black shirt with a clerical collar. He decided not to wear a cassock, so as not to draw more attention to himself than necessary. He knew it was going to be a hard night for him.

He managed to find a parking space and headed towards where the event was supposed to take place. From the entrance his mother embraced him, flooded with tears.

"Son, that was a beautiful homily. I'm so proud of you." She said tenderly, stroking his arm. Aemond thought that if she only knew what was going on in his head, she would loathe him.

"Thank you, mom." He said dispassionately.

They entered a room surrounded by round tables. He found a piece of paper with his name on it, sat next to his brother and sister. Aegon didn't even wait for the first toast, he made himself a drink right away. Aemond looked away, unable to lecture him further. He wasn't listening anyway.

Helaena and his mother were talking about the bride's dress and the decoration of the hall, which they liked very much. Aemond wasn't listening, completely uninterested in the subject. He felt a great tension, his eye kept escaping towards the entrance. Everyone started clapping and stood up as the bride and groom entered the room.

His heart tightened as he saw her enter the room right behind them, her face pale and distracted. Apparently, the joy of seeing him had already passed, giving way to the gray reality of what their relationship was like now. She looked for him, and when she saw him, she sighed softly.

Everyone sat back at the tables. Warm food was served, the first toasts and conversations rang out. Then the music was turned on, the first people went to the dance floor. He saw that she was talking to Baela about something, playing with her delicate necklace. His gaze involuntarily strayed to her triangle neckline, the slight outline of her breasts, her long neck. He pursed his lips as he took a sip of his wine.

She, Baela, and Rhaena started dancing as Boney M's "Daddy Cool" was playing. She looked as if she had suddenly regained her joy and good humor. She danced between her half-sisters, her movements were light and subtle, mixed with her characteristic energy.

They looked like they were having a great time, constantly sending each other signals, laughing at each other, grabbing hands, pressing their bodies against each other once in a while. They seemed to have developed a strong bond over the years.

Aegon began to babble at him, apparently growing slowly drunk. Aemond answered him in half sentences, completely uninterested in exchanging any opinions with him. His brother suddenly noticed who he had been looking at all along.

"Oh, our niece. She's grown into a beauty, huh? It's a shame we're her uncles." He grunted as he sipped his drink. Aemond gave him a look that could kill and didn't comment further.

Aemond found himself unable to bear it. Even though he quit smoking years ago, he asked his brother to lend him a cigarette and a lighter. As soon as he got what he wanted, he went out to the back of the wedding hall, into a small garden. He lit a cigarette and took a quick drag, exhaling the smoke through his nose. He thought he was pathetic and no different from Aegon.

He heard "Don't you (forget about me)" by Simple Minds playing in the background and felt melancholy. She often listened to it on her MP3 player when they were kids, humming it nonstop. He heard footsteps on the grass and turned involuntarily. His eye widened in shock, his lungs contracted, and he choked on the smoke.

His niece ran up to him completely barefoot, grabbing his arm, slapping him on the back. He held up his hand signaling her to stop as his airway was clear again. They looked at each other, she couldn't help but laugh a little.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She said lightly, apparently the scene made her feel more confident. "Just wanted to come say hello. It's been so many years." She said lowering her gaze, clasping her hands together.

Aemond stared at her, speechless. Little did she know that his worst nightmare was unfolding before his very eyes. His heart was pounding like crazy. His cigarette spit out slowly. He swallowed hard, looking away from her, taking another drag, his hand trembling slightly.

"I… I wanted to apologize to you. For whatever I did to you back then. I wish we could start talking again." She said, there was a note of desperation in her voice, probably because he wasn't talking to her. Aemond gave her a surprised, disbelieving look at the thought that all this time she had thought she had done something to him. That it was her fault. His lips trembled.

"I already told you. This isn't about you, it's about me." He said, exhaling smoke through his nose, feeling out of breath, her closeness, the wine and the taste of the cigarette mixing in his head. He felt that she was staring at him intensely, he couldn't bear that gaze. He was afraid that he was on the verge of doing something very bad.

"Please explain to me what you mean. Let me understand." She said, stepping closer to him and he squeezed his eye shut, shaking his head, massaging the space between his eyes.

"Go back inside." He spoke coldly and low. He heard her inhale sharply, but she didn't move an inch.

"No. Don't you think I deserve at least an explanation?" She asked in pain, her voice slightly quavering in despair.

"No. No, you don't deserve it." He hissed, turning his gaze to her. She stared at him in disbelief, her lips trembling slightly, only pain in her eyes. He saw that her body was trembling, her breathing was ragged. She pursed her lips, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

She sobbed in front of him, and he felt his soul shatter into a thousand pieces. He wondered why God had made him suffer so much. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her tear-stained face into his chest. He swallowed hard, turning his face away, not wanting her to see what was written on his face.

He thought resignedly, that now all he wanted to do was take her to his hotel room above the wedding hall and fuck her all night. Maybe then she would finally understand what a monster he was, and leave him alone. His lip quivered at the thought.

"Do you want to come with me to my room?" He whispered helplessly, his voice trembling. He felt a shiver run through her as she looked at him in disbelief. For a moment she was unable to utter a word.

"Y-yes, yes, I want, I want to go with you." She said quickly. Aemond dropped his cigarette to the ground and pinned it down with his shoe.

"Come."

_____

As always, if you like it or you want to be tagged, leave a comment, I'll be very happy. ♥

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff

[bubbleddisasters]

Been thinking about the Traveler being reminded of Inazumas War during Natlan, and an Open Arms Reprise I saw/Heard that sparked an idea about Teppei and Vichamas deaths, so i’m about to make it everyone else’s problem.

Spoilers, obviously

————-

With every scrape of blood off the sole of her once gleaming white boots, the sound of every solider and innocent lost being counted in the rest area, she was reminded of flashing lightning.

Of Gorou returning from unsuccessful search and rescues. Of Kokomis deep eye bags, Of….him. He who never got to try on his uniform.

A dash of moonlight reflected on Paimons hair, now drained from all the tears she had shed, wrapped in the blondes scarf.

She had really been with her through everything. The one constant Lumine could always count on.

“Captain?”

The once familiar voice had the outlander turning immediately.

“Teppei?”

Smiling in his Watasumi uniform, the apparition waved happily . As if he had never died. The friendship bracelet made from his first broken dummy still tied neatly as he stood by a crackling blaze.

“Thats me! It’s been awhile, huh? You look pretty tired, you can rest here by my fire, if you want.”

As if in a haze, she moved forward, an in a foolish leap of faith, jumped to hug her fallen friend, silent tears staining his uniform as he returned the embrace.

When she pulled back, the reality came in.

“You’re dead.”

“Yup.”

“Then how..?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, the former soldier looked off to the side.

“Night…uh…Kingdom stuff? I won’t be here for long, but I met this guy in the afterlife, and he mentioned you made it here, so I wanted to check on you! He helped me out.”

“He?”

Another figure fizzled into view. One she had seen only days ago. But this form was mutilated, ripped apart. He couldn’t have….not after..

“Vichama….?”

He didn’t meet her eyes.

“Rifthounds are the worst, aren’t they?”

Prodding the small flame with a stick, the fallen sighed.

“Once this flame goes out, we’ll be gone for good. You can have my stuff if it’s not too destroyed when….if…you get back. I doubt anyone else will want it.”

“The Captain of Swordfish || will definitely make it out! You haven’t seen what she can do! She’s amazing!”

“You’re weirdly positive for someone who died a long and agonizing death, y’know.”

Eyes of gold welled, the onyx haired patting the log next to him.

“You can let it all out while we wait, Captain. The dead tell no tales, right?”

———

And so, Lumine did just that. Told him everything. Sumeru, Fontaine, and what had happened so far in Natlan. Desperately, she didn’t wish for this moment to end. If only she had obtained Pyro from the Statue, she would have made Vichamas Fire burn eternally.

As it began to fade, Teppei rose from his seat, holding out his hand toward her.

“It’s time to keep moving on Captain.”

“…How Teppei?”

Wind was his only response as she took it all in. He was right, and she knew it. As she took his hand, Vichama cut in.

“I….I know you’re probably tired of all this war and bloodshed, but you’ve got the chance to have a life to live. Someone once told me to Keep them in their heart to bring them home.”

“He’s right! And give all the kindness you can, well, if you can.”

Carefully handing Paimon into her arms, the Inazumian smiled weakly.

“Remember how even during the war, our friendship still made us both feel happy and warm? Don’t give up on making friends like me again.”

The Verdette now stood, his ripped canopy outfit getting stuck on a twig for a moment before he was able to respond.

“And I know from..you know..that you probably might feel like we like we blame you for not being able to save us, but we don’t. Atleast I don’t.”

He faded away first, tossing her a dog-tag necklace with a key attached, leaving just Lumine and Teppei, who admired the mountain view, even in the pitch darkness.

“Y’know, life really is amazing. Everyone takes it for granted until they lose it, so…”

Slipping off his identification tag from around his neck, the deceased pressed it into her hand.

“Even after all this, try to greet the world with Open arms, ok? It’s going to be hard, but I think you’re capable of anything, I really do.”

Just like Vichamas, his visage began to fade, ruffling her hair as he disappeared.

“Thanks for everything, Traveler. I couldn’t have asked for a better Captain, or a better friend.”

One final time, he smiled.

“Goodbye, my friend.”

The fire flickered to nothingness as he vanished.

——-

Paimon stirred, yawning as she shifted around in the swaddle Lumine had made with scarf as the outlander began to prepare the hot air balloon.

“Paimon had this dream about Teppei and Vichama, and a huge war in….”

As she floated to oversee the region from above, the cheeriness in her voice all but faded.

“Oh…Guess Paimon wasn’t dreaming about the war then…is…is it really not over?”

“Not yet Paimon. Soon. Open arms.”

“Open arms? Whats that supposed to mean?”

————-

____________

Link to the Open Arms Reprise that gave me this idea!:

Yea thats it.

Enjoy.