#i live for nothing more than pleasing upper management

[wisteriagoesvroom]

*sends two emails* ahhhhhh the shareholders. my work here is done

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Twenty-Three} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Klaus Mikaelson x f!Reader} Request {@niklausie}: the squeal i let out when i saw your kinktober post asking for more klaus that’s my man!! shocked that people aren’t requesting a lot of him already but i love to see all the elijah love 🥺 anyway! my request is: 1920s klaus dating a fem!reader who’s in her late 20s and a young upper-class widow whose husband never satisfied her, maybe it was an arranged marriage, and her relationship with klaus is quite scandalous. he’s introducing her to pleasure in a way she never imagined or experienced before. could be him going down on her, which she’s never done before, or just raw passionate bonking in a jazz club like the smitten degenerates they are hehe xx i appreciate it a lot if you decide to write this!

♡♡♡ I just KNOW Klaus made a hobby out of doing this at every speakeasy in the city...♡♡♡

2.5k words - Kinks: 1920s, oral sex, public sex, Klaus being a flirt, jazz music && lots of gin ..

The crumpled note in your hand was the key to the evening, an address to a secret club. Your friend had suggested the place, telling you that you would love the jazz and the atmosphere. It was entirely outside your comfort zone to go to such a place, especially alone.

But your life had changed so much in the past months that you wanted to do something new. So here you were, standing in front of a plain wooden door, with nothing to indicate what was behind. A small window, the kind you would expect to see in a bank, was set in the door. It slid open, revealing a pair of eyes.

“Name?” The voice was low and suspicious.

You swallowed and said the password your friend had given you. “la fee verte.”

The window snapped shut, and for a heartbeat, you thought maybe they wouldn’t let you in. Then the lock clicked, and the door swung open. The man behind it gave a small, amused smirk. “Enjoy the show.”

Inside, it was dark and smoky, the air thick with the mingled scents of tobacco and alcohol. It felt as though you’d stepped into a different world … one where rules didn’t apply. A thrill ran down your spine as you took it all in. The dim light cast long shadows over the room, and in the center, a crowd of people swayed to the lively, infectious tunes of the jazz band on stage.

You moved toward the bar, your steps hesitant but steady. “Gin, please,” you ordered, and the bartender poured a generous amount into your glass. The liquid burned as you took a sip, but you liked it. It was stronger than the polite, watered-down drinks you were used to, stronger, and better. The tension you’d been holding onto since you’d arrived began to slip away.

As you watched the dancers, a spark of envy stirred in your chest. The women moved freely, laughing, spinning, their dresses swirling as they danced with their partners. You wanted that. The freedom, the joy. For once in your life, you wanted to do something just for yourself.

“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?” A voice broke through your thoughts, smooth and rich like the gin in your glass.

You turned, and the moment your eyes met his, the words caught in your throat. He was gorgeous, all chiseled features, blue eyes that gleamed in the low light, and a smirk that sent a flicker of heat through your chest.

“I’m Klaus,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours.

Your fingers tightened around the glass, and you were suddenly grateful for the dim lighting, so he wouldn’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. “Y/N,” you managed, offering your hand.

Instead of shaking it, Klaus took your hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. His eyes stayed locked on yours, and your breath hitched, warmth pooling in your stomach at the simple touch.

“What brings you here tonight?” he asked, his voice casual, but the intensity in his gaze told you there was more behind the question.

“My friend told me about the band,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “And I’ve… been wanting to try something different.”

He nodded, glancing toward the stage. “They’re good,” he said, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music. “I imagine you’ve been to plenty of these places.”

You laughed, a bit nervously. “Not exactly. This is my first time at a place like this.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? Then I’m honored to be part of your introduction to such debauchery.” His smirk deepened, and your heart skipped a beat. “Where are you from?”

“Here,” you said, “New Orleans. Born and raised.”

“And your husband?” His voice was casual, but you could tell he was paying close attention to your answer.

You hesitated, then took another sip of gin for courage. “He died a few months ago.” The words slipped out more easily than you expected. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening your tongue, or maybe it was the way Klaus was watching you, like he genuinely cared about your answer. “It was an arranged marriage. We never… loved each other.”

A shadow flickered over Klaus’ expression, but it disappeared just as quickly. He nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. “I see,” he said softly. “And now?”

You looked down, tracing the rim of your glass with your fingertip. “And now, I’m figuring out what it means to live for myself.”

Klaus’ smile was slow, deliberate. “I think you’re off to a good start.”

Your heart raced as he stepped closer, his presence warm and magnetic. His breath ghosted against your ear as he whispered, “Care to dance?”

“I don’t know the steps,” you admitted, glancing at the couples on the floor, their movements effortless, graceful.

Klaus chuckled softly, his breath brushing your skin. “That’s the beauty of it, love. You don’t need to know the steps. Just follow me.”

Before you could protest, his hand was on your waist, guiding you toward the dance floor. The moment his hand touched you, a spark of something electric shot through your body. You let out a shaky breath as he pulled you into the rhythm of the music, his body pressed against yours, leading you with a confidence that made it impossible not to follow.

As the song picked up speed, he spun you around, your dress billowing around your ankles. Laughter bubbled up in your throat as you twirled, dizzy and giddy, caught up in the excitement and the heat of his touch. When the music finally slowed again, you were breathless, flushed and grinning.

Klaus held your gaze, his hand still resting on your waist. Your bodies were close, swaying gently with the music, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. His eyes were dark with desire, and your pulse quickened.

Your husband had been cold and distant, barely sparing a moment for you. But now, here, with Klaus, you felt the desire that had been buried beneath layers of propriety and convention rising up inside you. You wanted him, more than you could ever remember wanting anyone.

"You are far too lovely to be married to a man who never appreciated you," Klaus murmured, his voice low and husky.

Your face burned. "What makes you think I'm lovely?"

Klaus chuckled, spinning you again, your body moving perfectly with his. "You have no idea, do you?" His gaze roamed over your face, your lips, down your body, his eyes filled with lust. "You are intoxicating."

"I'm sure you say that to every single gal who walks in here," you said, the gin loosening your tongue.

His smirk deepened, his thumb rubbing a gentle circle over the curve of your hip. "I'm only interested in the one who is right here, in front of me."

The music ended and the applause startled you both out of the trance you had fallen into. Klaus' eyes lingered on yours for a moment, then he took your hand and led you off the dance floor.

"Let's get another drink, shall we?" he murmured, and you found yourself unable to refuse.

You followed him to a quiet booth, upholstered in soft velvet, tucked away in a secluded corner. He signaled a waiter, and soon, two fresh glasses of gin sat on the table, the liquid ice-cold and refreshing. You sipped it slowly, savoring the tart flavor, as Klaus' eyes studied you.

"So," he said, leaning back, his arm draped over the back of the seat. "Tell me about yourself."

You blushed. "There's not much to tell."

Klaus shook his head, taking a drink. "I doubt that," he said, his gaze intense, making the blood rush to your cheeks.

"Well," you began, unsure where to start. "Same old story, married young, and it wasn't a happy marriage." You didn't elaborate, didn't want to talk about the years of loneliness, the disappointment. "It's a relief, honestly. Now, I can make my own choices, be my own person."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you plan on doing anything with your freedom?"

You took a long sip of gin. "I honestly don't even know where to start..."

Klaus tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I might be able to help," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"What did you have in mind?"

He grinned. "You'll see."

Your stomach did a somersault as he slid closer, his thigh brushing yours. The scent of his cologne, crisp and musky, surrounded you, making it hard to focus.

"Let's start with this," he whispered, his lips inches from yours. Before you could ask what, he was kissing you, his mouth hot and demanding, his hands tangling in your hair.

You gasped, your body responding instantly, desire flooding through you as his tongue slid into your mouth. He tasted like gin and sin, and it was everything you wanted. You felt his hand sliding up your leg, under your dress, his fingertips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your heart pounded, your breath coming in shallow gasps as his lips trailed along your jaw, down the side of your neck, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh. You felt a pang of fear, and you didn't know why, but something inside you pushed back.

"No," you gasped, pulling away, your chest heaving.

Klaus paused, his gaze locking with yours, his eyes dark and hungry. "Why not?"

"It's not... proper," you stammered, hating yourself for the words.

Klaus chuckled, his fingers brushing your cheek. "I'll make sure no one sees," he said, his voice low and husky.

You swallowed hard, heat rising in your cheeks. You wanted him, but you were afraid. You'd been taught to be a good girl, to obey, and the thought of someone seeing, knowing, terrified you.

"You don't have to be afraid," Klaus said, as if he could read your thoughts. "Want to know a secret? No one cares what you do. This place, it's about freedom. About living life to the fullest, without the constraints of society holding you back."

Your heart pounded as his hand slid up your thigh, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties. His lips went back to kissing and nibbling at your neck, and you found yourself arching against him, craving more.

"I want you," he murmured against your skin. "Don't you want me?"

"Yes," you breathed, giving in.

You felt him smirk against your skin, and his hand slipped under the fabric of your panties, his fingers stroking over the slick, wet heat between your legs.

You gasped, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you, as his fingers found the swollen bud of nerves, circling and teasing it. You let out a small moan, your hips moving involuntarily, seeking more.

"Did your husband ever do this for you?" Klaus asked, his voice low and raspy.

"Please don't bring him up with your hand between my legs," you moaned.

He laughed. "That's a no, then."

Before you could respond, he was sliding under the table, his hands pushing your dress up to expose the skin of your thighs.

You were suddenly hyper aware of the people around you, the possibility that someone might notice, but the lights were too dim, the crowd too noisy, and Klaus was kissing his way up the inside of your thigh.

You bit back a moan, the feeling of his lips against your skin making it hard to think, the gin still thrumming through your veins.

"What are you doing?" you breathed, gripping the edge of the table as his tongue slid over the sensitive skin.

"Giving you the pleasure that was denied to you," Klaus murmured, his fingers spreading you open.

"Oh, fuck," you whispered as his tongue circled the aching nub of nerves.

He chuckled, his tongue moving in slow, lazy circles, the sensation sending ripples of pleasure through you. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he took his time, drawing out the moment, building the tension.

You had never felt anything like it, the way his warm mouth was making your body respond, the way his tongue flicked over the most sensitive part of you. You were trembling, gasping, a wave of pleasure washing over you as he increased the pressure, his fingers slipping inside you.

You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, but it was impossible, the pleasure too much.

"Do you like that, love?" he asked, his breath hot against your skin.

"God, yes," you moaned, unable to stop yourself.

He chuckled again, and the vibrations making it all more intense. He was enjoying this, the effect he was having on you, and it turned you on even more.

You closed your eyes, lost in the sensation, your hips rocking against his mouth. The music was loud, the voices around you a steady drone, all the overwhelming sensations building, building, building. You were teetering on the edge, and then Klaus did something with his tongue, a swirl of pressure, and it was too much. A shattered cry ripped from your lips as you came, hard, waves of pleasure crashing over you.

Klaus stayed between your legs, his mouth and tongue working their magic, until you were completely spent, panting, sweaty, and blissed out. He emerged from under the table, a smirk playing on his lips, and kissed you, his tongue sliding into your mouth. You could taste yourself on his lips, salty and sweet, and the idea of him doing such a wicked thing made your core pulse again.

"How was that, love?" he asked, his gaze burning into yours.

"That was incredible," you breathed, your hands curling into his shirt.

He grinned. "I'm glad to hear it."

You blushed, realizing how scandalous this whole thing was. "I've never done anything like that before."

"I can tell," he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. "Your husband was a fool."

You shook your head, but you couldn't deny the flutter of pleasure his words gave you.

"I should go," you said, though the last thing you wanted was to leave.

"Why?" he asked, his eyebrows raising.

You didn't have an answer. Not one that made sense, anyway.

"Freedom, you see, is also about taking what you want, when you want it," Klaus said, his hand trailing over your collarbone, the bare skin exposed by your dress.

You hesitated, his words ringing in your ears. You'd spent so much of your life following the rules, doing what was expected of you, and now, the prospect of being free, of doing whatever you wanted, was dizzying.

"So... What do you want?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

You looked up, your gaze locking with his. You wanted him, all of him, and the way he was looking at you, the way his fingers were dancing across your skin, made it clear that he wanted you too.

"Take me home," you whispered, and his smirk widened, a glimmer of excitement flashing in his eyes.

"Darling, I'd be delighted."

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[iid-smile]

maybe us being extremely stressed with work / overload of responsibilities and husband!nanami seeing us break down and comforting us? 🤍 + love ur work sm i love ur writing 🌸

devotion , nanami kento

x gn!stressed!reader ! nanami is the biggest green flag, he calls you 'love' and 'darling', the reader calls him 'baby', very short kissy moment at the end (spoilers!!!!1!2)

author's note: writers block has been hitting me hard but i wanted this to be the best it could and ive been like "why is this taking so long to finish???" i scroll down the notes app from the top... this feels like SO much more than how much i would usually write 😭 never mind that, but thank you for your request and the compliment! i actually squealed of joy when i first read it!

i hope you like this and it fits well with what you envisioned 🫶

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another sleepless night. the piles of papers were all just too blank, too white, it made your brain dizzy. not the mention the screen of your laptop blaring into your eyes, even on the lowest brightness. everything was just too much. you had too much to do.

it all seemed to be stacking up, each one more complex than the next. the house would've been in complete disarray if you hadn't forced yourself to clean every morning, and the black trash bag by your feet was definitely more than full at this point, overflowing, filled to the brim with take out that you never finish. offering advice to others was a mistake, considering you couldn't listen to them yourself, and your phone was unread messages, and some whom are left on seen. who the hell lives a life like this? built on lies and hiding it from your husband... and did you even pay the bills? or was that on auto-pay?

you're constantly checking the clock, waiting for the time where six o'clock hits. your eyes are barely open, but they just manage to glance over at the ring on your finger. pretty. it only has to sit there, be a sign of devotion and loyalty, and do nothing else. would it be pathetic to say you envy it? perhaps.

oh, how desperately you want to close your eyes. to drift away, not have any weight on your shoulders. maybe on a beach...

"darling?"

you're close to gasping, but two large hands resting on your upper arms just about cuts it off. warm, and a familiar warmth too. "kento?" was the only thing you could squeeze out, your body making an effort to turn your head towards him.

"it's nearly midnight. why are you still awake?" nanami's voice is as soothing as always. you swear you nearly fell asleep right then and there.

"it's not—" you glance at the clock. five minutes to midnight. how did you miss six? "oh... why did you come home so late? i was waiting for you."

nanami doesn't say anything. your excuse was silly, really, your prominent eyebags and red eyes making a clear point.

he turns the chair around. "i don't like it when you lie, love."

"what? no, no. i just—" no matter how much you lie, nothing could hide what was welling up in your eyes. "i..." a shaky sigh leaves your lips, and you avoid his gaze.

"you can be honest with me. it's okay." one of his hands come to cup your jaw, his fingertips tickling your hair. in a soothing motion, his thumb rubs light circles on your cheek. you can't look away. "what's wrong?"

"nothing. nothing. please, it's nothing." it's growing difficult to speak. "there's nothing— nothing—"

"you're stressed."

"i'm not." the tears streaming down your face are saying otherwise. you couldn't hide, no, you didn't want to hide it anymore. "...kento..."

"i hear you." his hands drift down to yours, a firm grip around them, and he crouches further down than the level you're sitting at. through your tears, you can see nanami taking off his glasses, setting them down ok the ground. the love and concern his eyes when he looks up at you was almost too much to handle. "talk to me."

"i can cope with it, baby." you whisper, an involuntary sniffle being added on at the end. clearly, that was the wrong answer.

he sighs, and his fingers twist the ring on your left hand and he lifts it up a bit. "do you see this?"

you nod.

"this is physical proof that my mind, body and soul will always love you." he shifts a little, his gaze returning back to yours. "i remember what i said at the alter, and i always will. 'in sickness and in health', and i promised that. if i don't hold up what i promised, would i really be a good husband?"

for a while, it was silent. it was like he was waiting for an answer, but he knew he didn't need one. you felt different, like something inside of you was telling you to give in. telling you that you're safe, and in the comfort of your loved one's arms. you hadn't even realised that your arms were wrapped tight around nanami's neck, sobs you never thought would come out of your own mouth being more frequent than you'd like.

"i'm here, love." he pulls you closer by the waist, and his hold is tender. "can i carry you?"

you don't give him a verbal answer, just silently clinging onto him as he slowly lifts you off the chair. then, he makes his way towards the bed, sitting down on the edge with you curled up on his lap. "you can tell me about it when you calm down. or do you want to sleep first?"

"no... 'm just stressed, kento. i've been so worried about us, the future, other things... i just— i'm doing too much." "i need a breather or something. it's all too much."

"is there anything i can do to help?"

"i don't know. i really don't." naturally, your eyes start to close.

"get some rest."

the next time your eyes open, it's bright outside, and you're lightly tangled up in the blankets on the bed. one thing that didn't change however, is your husband's face in front of yours, his affectionate gaze remaining on you and you only. you miss this. you miss appreciating this.

nanami admires you, tugging down the comforter so your arms had a bit more freedom. "good morning, love."

"morning, baby." immediately, you eye the blond strands that somewhat disrupt his vision, there's a soft smile on your face, and your fingers run through his blond locks, feeling a bit of his undercut. "your hair isn't styled."

he hums quietly, his crossed arms on the mattress moving closer to your figure. "i'm not going into work today."

your eyes widen. "why not?"

"you're always my first priority. the last thing i'd want is you to be handling hard situations without me." his voice is just above a mutter. "i need to take care of the person i love."

"you don't have to." you whisper, pangs of conscience fizzing up in your mind.

to match your volume, he whispers back. "i want to."

so doting, it makes you feel guilty. would you feel more bad for taking his help or rejecting it? "when you're ready to wake up, i can get a bath ready and..." he takes a breath. "i'll cook you some breakfast. your favourite."

sitting up a little, you glance over at your desk. the papers were piled on the sides of the surface and significantly reduced in size, the trash bag was gone, and only a few of your favourite trinkets are presented in the middle. "my work—"

"we can talk about work after you feel better, okay?"

you turn your head towards him again and nod. slowly, you bring both of your hands up to his cheeks, focus shifting from his eyes to his lips. "can i have a kiss?"

"of course you can." and nanami smiles, his lips coming to close the distance and press against yours.

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[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 9

The reveal pt 2

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿

~

The next morning, before dawn, Chan gently shook me awake.  “Good morning, lovie.”

Groaning, I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head, not ready to be awake.  I’m warm and comfortable, no way is Chan going to get me out of this bed.  Sadistic bastard!

“Up, up, up!  We have a couple hours before the live.  We need to agree on a track list and get practicing.”

“Fuck you and your fucking track list.”  I snapped.

Someone cackled.  “You made her shit list, Hyung.”  I.N said amused.

“Yeah, yeah.  I can be on any list you want, as long as you get up and get ready.”  Chan dismissed shoving at my hip again so I couldn’t fall back asleep.

With a frustrated sigh I uncovered my head.  “I will find a way to get you back for this.”  I promised darkly.

“You can’t do that if you’re still in bed!”  Chan’s voice faded as he left the room.

Rolling onto my back I took a minute to rub the sleep from my face and attempt to wake my sluggish brain up.  A task that currently felt like an uphill battle I was losing.

“I’d say you get used to it, but you really, really don’t.”  I.N said.

“Mm.  Where is everyone else?”

“Getting dressed, eating breakfast.”

Slowly I sat up and opened my eyes.  Only to immediately squeeze them shut again.  The room was bright.  Too bright.  It stung my sensitive eyes and only added to my misery.  The first full day of being Stray Kids Alpha was already proving difficult and the sun hadn’t even risen yet.

“I need a gallon of coffee.”  I declared.

There was a shuffle and I.N kissed my hairline.  “We can stop somewhere on the way.”

As soon as I could open my eyes I freshened up and put on the first clothes my fingers touched.  Zero brainpower to plan an outfit and look cute.  Not happening today.

When I met up with the others, Lee Know handed me a granola bar and Felix twisted my hair up into a baseball cap.  Changbin helped me put on an oversized hoodie and black face mask.  Still half asleep I just moved where they wanted me without complaint.  In the back of my mind I registered that they were helping me hide my identity and scent until the live later.  Something it hasn’t occurred to my sleepy brain to do when I got dressed.

“Care you even awake?”  Changbin asked when I rocked off balance.

I looked at him through one open eye.  “Coffee.  Please.”  I breathed through the face mask hiding my identity from the world.

“We can manage that.  Let’s go, cars ready.”  Chan informed picking up the bags sitting at his feet and heading to the door.  I stumbled after him almost blindly, eyes unwilling to stay open for more than a few seconds at a time.

After I bumped into the third wall, I felt Hyunjin place his warm hands on my upper arms and start steering me.  Keeping me from bumping into any more obstacles.

Once in the car I leaned on the nearest shoulder and immediately dozed off.  Since it was still so early the Omegas were pretty quiet.  Only talking lowly amongst themselves.  The murmur was a pleasant lullaby.

Gentle finders brushed hair from my temple and stroked over the exposed apple of my left cheek.  “Wake me up one more time, Chan, and I will neuter you.”  I growled.

A puff of air hit me as Hyunjin laughed.  “It’s me.  Sorry, we need your coffee order.”

This roused me and I opened my eyes.  Hyunjin was crouched in front of me with a soft fond look on his face.  “Coffee?”

He smiled brightly at me.  “Yes.  Coffee.  What would you like?”

As soon as there was a hot coffee in my hands, I started to feel like a human again.  The smell and hot steam helped me keep my eyes open while I waited for the drink to cool off enough to drink.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”  Changbin teased.

I shook my head, testing my coffee.  Still too hot.  “Not yet.”  I answered roughly.

It was only a couple more minutes before the car stopped at a sheltered back entrance of JYPE.

“Wait!  Mask, Y/n.”  Chan reminded when I slid toward the door.

“Oh, right.  Thanks.”  I replied pulling the mask back into place.

Apparently, conference rooms are pretty much the same no matter what country you are in.  Long table with chairs all around, large white board covering one wall, huge TV on another, A conference phone smack dab in the middle of the table.  As well as the group company photo squeezed into a random patch of wall, everyone wearing matching shirts.

There were several people already in the room when we arrived.  I stopped in the doorway and looked to Chan wide eyes.  I hadn’t thought about anyone else being here and my first instinct was to leave before they saw or smelled me.

Chan smiled and reached for me.  “It’s okay, Y/n.  This is our manager, the set manager, and sound master.  They won’t bite.

I nodded and waved at the 3 Betas holding my coffee cup in front of me like a caffeine shield.  They nodded back, politely uninterested in my presence.  I sighed silently, relieved.

I wheeled one of the chairs into a corner out of the way and curled up into it, cradling my coffee as I sipped at it.  I watched as everyone settled in, more animated and loud now that they were more awake.

Everyone looked soft and cozy.  Hair product free and floofy, comfortable clothing, no makeup.  I kind of liked them like this.  Just people and not idols.  These were my Omegas in their ‘true’ form so to speak.

I had no idea what to expect in a meeting like this.  I was insanely curious about this part of the process.  What went into the songs they picked to perform.  How the set theme was decided.  How they came up with the absolutely amazing sets and performances.  As a fan you never really got a complete explanation for any of this.

That being said, it wasn’t long before they started speaking in terms I didn’t understand.  I got bored pretty quickly after that.

So instead, I pulled out my phone and caught up on all the Stray Kids stuff I avoided when I was gone.  And started the process of officially moving.  Canceling my mail, getting my appointments canceled, changing accounts to my new Korea address.  I needed to make lists, I know I am forgetting things.

Most importantly I need a Korean phone plan, because the overseas charges on my current plan were absolutely outrageous!  I don’t know the first thing about Korean phone plans or companies.  Does Verizon exist here?  It had too.  Verizon exists everywhere, right?

Felix must have gotten bored because he pulled my chair close to his and started to watch what I was doing over my shoulder.  I glanced up, pretty sure he is supposed to be paying attention, but Chris seemed to pretty much be handling everything.  The others interjecting occasionally.

“We can just put you on our plan.”  Felix whispered to me in his Australian accented English.

“Youre all on the same plan?”  I never thought about their phone plan.

“Yeah, the company pays for it and has all the information in case we get hacked or something.”

Oh, the company.  “No, I’ll just get my own plan.”

“Why?”

“I’m not with the company.  Im with you guys.  I don’t feel comfortable having the company pay my bills.”

“Its not like you haven’t earned it.  Besides, they will need the information for you too in case you get hacked or lose your phone.”

Saying I ‘earned it’ felt too much like I was being paid to be their Alpha, and that felt gross.  I made a face, but didn’t respond to him.  This wasn’t the time or place for this conversation.

However, it did remind me that I needed to find some way to make money.  No way in hell would I be depending on the boys financially like that.  They aren’t my sugar daddies and im not a gold digger.

I only needed a short-term solution.  Just until I am forced to sign a contract with the company and they ‘strongly suggest’ becoming a brand ambassador or to do a commercial or something like that.  I need something to hold me over until I ultimately end up working for JYPE.  It was only a matter of time.

The meeting blissfully wrapped up quickly after our short conversation.  And with a track list decided, it was time to start refreshing themselves on the lyrics and dances.  So, we moved to a practice studio in another part of the building.

I.N handed me a familiar black bag as I made myself comfortable in the back corner of the room.  I looked at him with wide eyes.  “My camera?  You brought it for me?”  It was amazingly nice of him.  My camera is a part of me and I usually don’t go anywhere without it, but I was too tired this morning to think of grabbing it.

He shrugged, trying to play it off.  “Figured you would be less bored if you could take photos.”

I pulled him down into a hug, ruffling the hair on the back of his head and squeezing him tight.  Cuteness aggression is a very real thing.

“Alright, alright!  Enough!”  He complained pulling away, cheeks dusted a light pink and avoiding my eyes.

I giggled and dug into my bag.  Everything I could need is here.  I was unbelievably excited to get some shots of the Omegas.  And having something to do will pass the time quicker.

Standing up I took a few test pictures to adjust for lighting and quality.

As they did their thing I snapped action shots of each of them, doing my best to stay out of the way.

Stray Kids, being the gremlins they were, started to make overexaggerated silly faces.  There was even some rude gestures thrown in here and there.  I smiled at their antics, not deterred in the slightest.

As everyone rested and got some water, Chan approached me.  “Since this is an official live with announcements, they are going to want to do hair, makeup, and outfits.”  He warned.

I wrinkled my nose, but already suspected as much.  “Okay.  I look like shit today anyways, so that’s probably a good thing.”

He flicked my ear lightly.  “Stop.  You look lovely.”

I rolled my eyes and swatted at the offending hand.  “Whatever you say.  When is this makeover?”

“We will head over when everyone has had a chance to rest.”

“Ill pack up then.”  I nodded to the camera in my hands.

Hair, makeup, and wardrobe was an overwhelming experience.  At any given moment I had 2-3 people surrounding me.  Poking, pulling, and prodding all over.  My face was plastered, my hair yanked and gooped.  And at one point I swear I saw the metallic flash of a pair of scissors.

The room itself is loud and chaotic.  People yelled and rushed around everywhere.  All the overstimulation was starting to get to me.  I felt my patience growing short and my muscles get tense.  The lights started to give me a headache and the voices made my ears ring and all blended together.  I scratched my arms to try and relieve the symptoms.  To have one strong thing to focus on so the others were less intense.  It was something I have done since I was a baby, and I have never been able to break the need when the overstimulation gets too bad.  During college I had to wear thick hoodies during mid terms and finals because if I didn’t, I would scratch so much I would bleed.

Gentle hands stilled my own and I refocused.  Hand soothed my burning arms by rubbing them softly.  They were bright red now.  “Its okay.”  He whispered understandingly but still concerned.

I sighed heavily, thankful for the reprieve.  He must have shooed everyone off when he noticed my distress.  “I’m sorry.  I’m – it’s a lot”

He nodded and fished into his pocket.  He fitted a pair of earbuds in my ears.  “This may help.”  He said as he scrolled through his phone for a few seconds before Gods Menu started to play.  Something nondestructive for my mind to focus on.  I nodded and smiled my thanks.

Han left and the people for styling converged again.  Guess they only stepped away long enough for Han to help me before continuing their work.  It was much easier to deal with now as Gods Menu ended and Side Effects started.

When everything was complete and I looked acceptable enough to be seen as Stray Kids’ Alpha I stood and looked at myself in the mirror.  The sight made me sigh in defeat.  I didn’t look like me.

The clothes were expensive looking and not my usual comfy style.  My hair, usually just left alone or pulled into a messy bun was curled and styled perfectly in place.  It was a couple inches shorter now too.  And ive never been one for makeup.  Never had a knack for applying it and didn’t like how I looked in it.  Now, though natural looking, makeup was applied in such a way that it changed the shapes of my face.  Nose shaded to look more angular and petite.  Eyes made to look bigger and rounder.  Cheeks and chin sharper.  I was a different person.

“You don’t look very happy.”  Chan observed.

I sighed and removed the earbuds.  “They did a great job.”  Its true, the work was exquisite.  Flawless even.

“But?”  He prompted.

My lips twisted and I looked back at the mirror.  “I don’t look like me anymore.”  I closed my eyes against a heavy sense of loss.  I shouldn’t complain.  “I’ll get used to it eventually.”

I knew this was coming.  That I would lose who I was.  That they would change me.  I just…I guess I just wasn’t as prepared for it as I thought.  I expected it to take longer.  That it would be slower, piece by piece over time.  This felt like all at once.  I lifted my hand to mess with my hair, but caught myself and lowered it again with a hum.

Chan wrapped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed me close, rubbing my upper arm.  “We will have them dial it back next time.”  He promised.

“And we can teach you makeup at home too, so we can find a happy medium.”  Seungmin added joining us at the mirror.

“Don’t worry.  Ill be fine.  I was expecting this.”  I straighten and pull myself together.  This was fine.  I looked beautiful.  Flawless.  Worthy to stand next to Stray Kids proudly.

“Y/n, we don’t want to change who you are.  You’re perfectly fine as you are.”  Chan said.

“I’m not though, am I?”  It was a rhetorical question.  We all knew I wasn’t even close to good looking enough on my own to be seen with gods such as them.

We were summoned away before either male could reply.

My nerves about the live and subsequently the reveal, previously forgotten when I became overstimulated, then saw myself in the mirror, returned full force.  Millions of people are about to watch me on live and find out im an Alpha.  They will know my face.  I'll be plastered all over the internet.

What if I made a fool of myself?  Or said the wrong thing?  What if I embarrassed the boys?  Ruined their reputation?  Or worse yet, turned STAY against them?  So much could go wrong.

The live setting was familiar.  A living room set up that they had used before on past lives and videos.

“You look ready to vomit.”  JYP said from behind me.

I spun around, excited.  I didn’t expect J to show up today.  “J!  what are you doing here?”  I threw my arms around him.

“Its your reveal day, I didn’t want to miss it.”  He replied patting my back.

I smiled at him, thankful for his comforting fatherly presence.  Someone who had secretly been watching over me my whole life.  He wouldn’t let anything happen to me now.  It would ruin all his hard work.

“Don’t let me say anything stupid, please.”  I requested wringing my hands.

J chuckled.  “Sorry, hun, but your bound to put your foot in your mouth eventually.”

I groaned and bounced a little to try and relieve some anxiety.  “Ooh, I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.  Just be yourself.  Stray Kids have always been authentic and chaotic, so fans are used to that.  They like that.”  JYP reminded me.  It was true.  They weren’t fake and genuinely cared about what they do and their fans.  “Just flow with the conversation.  They will lead you, guide you.”

I nodded and turned towards the set again.  Lee Know was at a mounted tablet set up for the live on a tripod.  He tapped a few buttons on the screen.

“Okay.  We are live.”  He announced before moving to take his seat next to Han on one of the couches.

There wasn't enough air in the room.

~

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng @kpopandmusicpassion @jasmin-loves-k-pop @cookey-lock @possum-playground @demigoddreamon-blog @rei-reia @dreamerwasfound @jasmin-loves-k-pop @ms-flowergirl

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Feast

07/25/2024

Pairing: Vampire!Hozier x reader

Word Count: 7,286

Warnings: vampire au, language, alcohol, blood, blood sucking, thoughts about unaliving oneself, fingering, light choking, oral (f receiving), penetration (also the reader is female and has hair covering their neck)

Summary: You had heard rumours about the man living in the old mansion down Hollows Lane. Gruesome ones. Enticing ones. Little did you know they were all true.

A/N: I blame hoztwt and my undying vampire kink for this.

Picture found on Pinterest

If you enjoy my story, liking is great, but leaving a comment or reblogging is the stuff that keeps me going. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

 There were rumours about the man living down Hollows Lane. Gruesome ones. The first time you had heard them, you had laughed out loud. A simple prank, you had thought, gone by the end of the month. But they just did not stop. 

There were also other rumours. Enticing ones. The man was a seducer, they said, a master of his art, and he knew how to have a good time. You had heard women gushing about his talent, about how they had never been satisfied like that before. It was almost too good to be true. Especially since all he wanted in return was a tasty meal. 

A small price to pay if the rumours about his unearthly qualities were true. And as soon as the thought had manifested in your mind, your ears picked up the deep roll of thunder in the distance. A warning, maybe. Probably not. Still it was enough to make you trip and stumble a few steps forward. With a deep breath you steadied yourself, pressing the basket of food you carried to your chest. Just one more turn, one more road to walk down. You could already make out the roof of the grand mansion at the far end. There was a whisper, carried on the breeze, as if it was calling you, a ridiculous thought, you chided yourself, but still your feet had picked up their pace again, the determined clicking of your heels on the pavement the only noise in the lamplit street. 

Finally you reached the iron gate and its signature creak brought back memories from the first time you had walked up to his doorstep. You had been so nervous, almost dying inside from anticipation and anxiety alike. 

You had no idea how this was supposed to work. All you had was some kind of code word you were expected to say to him. 

The large door knocker felt heavy and ice cold as you lifted it and brought it down three times. For a long while, almost an eternity, nothing happened, and you were about to turn around and leave when finally the dark wood in front of you moved. And there he was. He was even more beautiful than the women had described and you doubted there were words in any language to do the looks of this man justice. 

“Can I help you?”

He just stood there, waiting, glancing down at you as he towered in the doorway, but that was all it took to stun you into complete silence. Your mouth felt utterly dry, your tongue too heavy to move even if the code was short and easy to remember. 

“Are you quite well?”

At least you managed to nod and that seemed to please him somehow. 

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you blurted out, your brain happy to start with something simple. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

He held out his hand to you and you took it without hesitation. It was soft and warm and his touch almost had you miss out on the moment when he drew in a sharp breath, his upper lip quivering strangely, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared and soon you doubted whether it had been real or just a product of your shell-shocked brain.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Yes! I mean, no. I—” One eyebrow shooting up, he observed you carefully as you stumbled across your own words. “I’m sorry. I am so nervous and I have no idea how this works.”

“I can see that,” he chuckled. “But there is no need to be nervous. Just tell me the words and you’ll be fine.”

His green eyes were so calming as they seemed to stare right into your soul. It should have worried you, should it not, that he seemed to be able to glance at the deepest, most well-hidden parts of you so easily, but instead you felt yourself relax under his gaze. 

“Carpe noctem,” you finally managed to pipe up.

“Good girl.”

His voice was low and raspy and you felt your walls tighten around agonising nothingness upon his words. He smirked, knowing full well what he was doing to you already and as much of a warning signal this should have been, it turned you on beyond reason. 

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You shook your head. “And the rest of this will be just as easy, I promise. All you need to do is be back here on Saturday, exact same time. Dress to your liking, I want you to feel as comfortable as possible. And bring all the ingredients to your favourite meal.”

You nodded mechanically.

“Are you sure you got it?”

“Got it.”

Gosh, why were you like this? Why could you not just be chill about this? You were embarrassing yourself in front of a man who would supposedly shag the brains out of you this Saturday if one could trust the rumours in this town for once. He on the other hand seemed completely unfazed, maybe even enjoying your flustered state, telling from the satisfied smile on his face. 

“Okay, see you on Saturday, then,” you were quick to end this torment, even waving stupidly at him as if you had not already done enough to traumatise yourself. But he was just as quick as he caught your wrist mid-air, a movement too fast for your eyes to catch up and he did not even allow you a second to blink before you found yourself pressed up against his body, one arm slung around the small of your back to keep you in place. 

“Goodbye, angel,” he whispered, his breath mingling with yours in the tiny space that was left between your mouths, a space he was keen to erase completely as he leaned in. His kiss was featherlight, making you doubt once more whether this was actually happening or if his lips on yours were just another product of your delusional mind. All you knew was that it made your knees weak and you were very thankful that he was still tightly holding you. 

Even more so as a sharp sting shook you from your hazy state. Your lip. And the distinctive metal taste of blood. 

“What the hell was that?” you hissed in irritation, two fingers finding your lip and as you pulled them away, the dark red liquid was shimmering in the eerie light of the evening.

“Just a little appetiser.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him off, but once again you found yourself rendered speechless by this man. And he knew how to use your petrified state as a strong hand wrapped around yours, holding the fingers laced with blood in place, and then his mouth opened to take them in, licking them clean as he stared right into your eyes from underneath those impossibly long lashes. 

“Can’t wait for Saturday to come.”

You did not know how often you had gone over this scene in your head these past days. It made you shiver, every time, but even more than that, it made you want him, to a point that you started to question your sanity because you knew you would never find peace again if you did not have him. Just once. 

And so you had done exactly as he had told you. You had come back, Saturday, same time, wearing your favourite dress and heels, both red like your lipstick. The outfit was not really comfortable as he had suggested, but no other item of clothing in your wardrobe managed to make you feel yourself as much as this. And god knew you could use as much confidence as you were able to muster. 

In your hand you carried a basket full of ingredients for your meal, no matter how odd his request still seemed to you. Why would anyone see a self-made meal as a fitting price for…well…for what he was about to give you in return? Living in a home like that, he surely was wealthy enough to afford a cook if he did not want to prepare his own meals. Would that not be much easier and less risky than having to eat a surprise dish from someone who did not know half the time what they were doing? Maybe he had some weird food kink or it got him off to watch other people work for him. 

Whatever it was, he left you no time to think about the matter further as the door suddenly swung open. Your hand was still hovering awkwardly mid-air since you had just been reaching for the knocker. And it stayed there for a moment longer, your nervous system sent into overdrive as you took him in.

He was even more radiant in his gloom tonight, if that made any sense at all, but there were no better words to describe the pull he had on you. He was dressed in all black, jeans, denim jacket and shirt, which conveniently was not buttoned up to the collar, thus allowing a fine view of his fluffy chest. Different to your first meeting, he had decided to pull half of his hair back in a ponytail, allowing the rest of his curls to fall freely around his shoulders. He might have trimmed his beard a little as well, but you could not tell for sure, the memory of your last encounter still a bit blurry around the edges. 

But all that seemed secondary when he fished your hand out of its weird position and brought it to his lips for a gallant kiss.

“You’re back.” He was beaming, his eyes so full of joy that you almost believed he had doubted you would return. “Come in.”

He still held your hand, making a welcoming gesture with the other, waiting patiently for you to step inside. Another thunder rumbled through the night, louder this time, and you hurried to cross the doorstep. With a heavy thud, the door of the old mansion fell shut behind you, causing a violent shiver to run down your spine. And you could not help but feel like red riding hood in your dress, who had just entered the wolf’s den, fully knowing he would devour her. 

“Welcome to my home.”

And what a home it was. Dark wood and old carpets dominated the place, staircases wound their way upwards elegantly, leading to even more rooms that seemed wasted on one inhabitant alone. Oil paintings decorated the walls, portraits as well as landscape scenes of places far and near, and here and there antiques caught the eye, collector’s pieces, possibly, or family memorabilia, passed down from generation to generation. And as if that had not been enough to remind you of those old gothic movies, the whole house seemed to be covered in a sheen of gloomy, flickering light, as if it was solely lit by candles. But of course that was ridiculous, nobody sane would rely on candles today instead of electricity. It must be some of those ultra-realistic LED candles that sat on the chandeliers and candelabras you passed by on your way as he lead you deeper into his lair.

To your great relief his kitchen was up to modern standards, at least far more modern than the rest of the house seemed to be and you thanked the heavens for that. Even the thought of having to cook in a kettle over an open fire doubled your nervousness in an instant. 

You did not speak much as you went to work, but you knew you had his full attention. You could feel his eyes on you, observing your every move, following you around as you tried to concentrate so you would not mess up dinner. An impossible task, it seemed, but what could you do? Sending him away was rude and out of the question. This was his home, you had come here of your own free will, knowing full well the terms of this deal, and if you wanted your needs satisfied, you would satisfy his, even it meant to have your every move studied.

“Wine?” 

You almost jumped out of your skin. He was so close, his voice coming from right beside your ear. Accompanying his words, he pushed a glass of red wine into your periphery. You hummed in affirmation as you took the drink from his hand. Eagerly you set it to your lips, gulping down a swig and then another as you found it did nothing to end the sudden drought in your throat. And yet you found yourself leaning back against him the moment his hands found you. One was careful to brush away the hair from your shoulder, while the other tenderly glided up and down your arm. You felt his chest move as he inhaled deeply, bringing you even closer, letting the deep vibration of his satisfied hum take hold of you too. 

“Mouthwatering,” he concluded, and he was already pulling away, the last you felt of him the brush of his fingertips against your neck. 

He must have lied to you, a white lie, but totally unnecessary as he did not seem to intend in the least to eat the meal you had prepared for the both of you. He sat across from you at a table that felt uncomfortably large at a dinner for two, twisting a glass of wine in his hand. Yet he was neither drinking nor touching the food on his plate.

“Are you not hungry?” you inquired, already unable to hide the miffed undertone in your voice.

“I am,” he stated plainly as if your question had been obsolete, as if in fact your question was the confusing bit of this conversation and not his totally antithetic behaviour.

“Is the food not to your liking then?” you refused to let him get away with it this easily. And as you waited for his answer, your fork dashed down to impale an innocent piece of vegetable.

“It looks delicious.”

He sported a smile, totally unfazed by the message of the little stunt you had pulled. If this man intended to seduce you by giving you the full boyfriend experience, even the aggravating and irritating parts, he would be in for a surprise tonight.

“Then why don’t you eat?”

“I will.” He had just finished his statement when lightning stroke, bathing the room in its cold, white light and for a second your heart stopped in your chest. It was only an instant, but the picture of him had been distorted completely, his mouth wide open, a pair of razor-sharp fangs glistening in the eerie light. 

You did not dare to blink, and still you must have, as only a moment later, everything was back to normal, he even continued speaking as if nothing had ever happened.

“All in due time, angel.”

Angel. He had called you that before. You had no idea what about you exactly made him think this was a fitting nickname for you. You certainly did not think of yourself as a being of light, and no one else before him ever had. Not that this was a bad thing, on the contrary. But what bothered you about it was the fact that he had already chosen a term of endearment for you, while you did not even know his name. 

“Will you at least tell me your name?”

Your voice sounded awfully strange to your own ears, a mixture of pouting and whining. It never sounded like that, not even in your lowest moments. And there had been quite a few of those.

“You can call me Andrew.”

“Andrew,” you repeated, letting his name roll over your tongue as if you were testing the sound, testing what it felt like to form the name with your mouth. It was not intentionally done, but when you looked up from your plate, you found his eyes already glued to you, and the hunger reflecting in those deep green orbs made you shiver in anticipation.

An anticipation you felt now more than ever, and it was threatening to drive you to insanity as you casually flicked through his record collection after dinner, trying very hard not to let your nerves get the best of you. You had moved to the living room now, or was it his music room? You had no idea, but the piano and the record collection let you assume as much. 

“This one.”

You pulled the LP from the shelf and handed it to him. Andrew was already waiting by the record player, taking it from you. 

“Great choice,” he commented. "Unbelievably talented musician, and an exceptional woman. You would have loved her.”

“You say that as if you knew her personally.”

“I did,” he stated as he found your gaze, and not for a second did you doubt that he was telling the absolute truth, however impossible it seemed. 

“How?” 

You watched him walk over to you, and you both knew that he would not answer your question. He did not need to. But instead of taking the last way out and run, you took the hand that was already waiting for you and nothing you had done in your life before had ever felt this right. 

There was just one question left to ask, you wanted to blurt it out and get it off your chest after it had pestered you for days, but you waited until you had both sat down on the chaise longue by the window. 

“So, ehm, how is this gonna go?” You were still holding his hand, your fingers playing with his as you spoke. “Do you want me to tell you what I like?”

“No.” His voice was like velvet. “There is no need to tell me. I will know.”

“Know how?”

He slowly detangled his fingers from yours, and when his eyes found yours again, something about them had changed.

“I can sense it, your desire.” His words had distracted you, allowing his hand to move unseen. It found you, found the sensitive spot of bare skin right above your knee. He did not even have to look and had found his aim still, making you suck in a sharp breath of air as his warmth seeped into your skin, gliding higher and higher up your thigh until his hand had vanished underneath the hem of your dress completely. “I can sense what brings you pleasure.”

Your eyes must have fallen closed under his gentle caress, and yet the touch of his lips did not startle you as they found the outline of your jaw. He moved slowly, placing featherlight kiss after kiss along the path to your ear.

This was the moment. It had come at last. Time to give him his part of the bargain. And so you brushed your hair aside, craning your neck to allow him full access. 

“Not yet, angel,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, “not yet.”

Instead of the teeth you had awaited, his palm settled on the most delicate spot you had offered him. He placed it right above your pulse, claiming what was his to take whenever he desired. He could probably feel it, feel the blood rush through you, and the thought was enough to coax a soft sigh from your throat.

But your pulse against his fingertips was not the only thing he could sense. Above it all he heard it, loud and clear, the thunderous drum behind your ribs, as if your heart was waiting for the right moment to break free. That would not be necessary. There were other ways to free you.

You moaned, a sound that warmed his icy heart, and when he let his hand glide up your thigh, your legs fell open for him. He blindly followed the moist heat, his eyes never leaving your beautiful face, watching as you slowly let go. Soon you would be lost to the world, your world, and would become part of his instead. He was just about to tear the last barrier, fisting the exquisite fabric, he gave it a harsh tug and there was nothing left between you and him any more.

You were so soft, softer as the finest silk, and the moan that fell from your lips when his fingers dove in between your silky lips to spread the slick that awaited him was so sinful it almost swayed him to allow himself a little taste of you. But he knew better than that. The wait would only heighten his enjoyment. He would not let his ravenous thirst ruin that for him. 

Your head sank back as he slowly slipped inside of you, exposing even more of your neck as another sinful sound broke from your lips. This was impossible, he needed to do something, to silence you for a while until he had gathered enough strength to withstand the urge to sink his teeth into you and suck you dry. And so he pushed his thumb past your lips until he felt your tongue press against it, sucking it in deeper. 

Soon he had found the right rhythm, pumping in and out of you, crooking his fingers every now and then to brush along that sensitive spot inside of you. He loved how the stimulation made your breath hitch in your throat, how your eyelids fluttered in that tiny moment of pure pleasure. It drove him wild, to play you like that, and for a second he forgot himself, his thumb gliding out of your mouth to squeeze that frail neck of yours. 

He let go immediately when he heard your heart skip a beat, it had startled him, but your whine came instantly, eyes flying open to find his, begging him silently to do it again. And who was he to deny you your pleasure? So he squeezed again, lightly at first, then harder until your hand grabbed the collar of his jacket, your back arching as you pulled yourself closer to him. 

You were close, so close, and he wondered…Tilting your head back, he dove into the crook of your neck, his tongue darting out to lick along the prominent vein. He could taste your pulse against his tongue, taste the sweetness of his triumph as he felt your walls clenching down on his fingers. Just one more step, one more ace up his sleeve to drive you over the edge. He knew you could feel it, feel the slight sting as his fangs brushed along your neck, teasing the skin they would soon break, a promise so ardent it left you no choice but to come with a desperate shout. 

He held you as you trembled and shook, riding out your high against his fingers. You were enchanting in your rapture and it was in this very moment that he vowed to give you everything you wanted, he would cater to your wants and needs until you felt you could take no more. 

He had never understood those who got high on striking fear into the hearts of their blood donors. Fear only staled the taste, while satisfaction heightened it. All those hormones, serotonin, oxytocin, prolactin, dopamine, adrenaline, mixing to form the most delicious concoction. 

But there was something more to it. The truth was, he liked giving something back. It made him feel less guilty about what he had to do to survive. He had not really chosen this life, well, he had, but he had been young and in love and full of hope that sharing eternity with her, the one who had turned him, would be worth it. It had not even lasted a decade before she had tired of him. Apparently commitment was not only difficult for beings with a limited lifespan. 

But with her gone, everything had seemed pointless in the beginning. All the things he had given up to share this life with her, he missed them terribly. And he loathed the killing, the never ending thirst. He had thought about ending it, numerous times, but he had always found more reason to hold on. And with a few alterations of the rules, he had also found a way to make it work.

He did not kill anymore. There really was no need to. Except for the fact that there were no witnesses if he did. Still, it was possible to survive on smaller portions of blood. He needed to feed more often then, which in turn increased the risk of getting caught. And so he had come up with this transactional system over time.

It was as easy as it was effective: he gave them what they wanted, and in return he could feast. Before he let them go, he made sure to erase certain memories of the shared time, and since he was good at his side of the transaction, they came back freely.

But this right here, you, you were more than a transaction. It had been nothing but a matter of business with the others, sex was just sex, a means to get what he wanted. But for the first time in forever there was something more than hunger he wanted to sate. He wanted you, wanted a taste of what it felt like to be alive, truly alive, not just a slave to the never dying thirst. 

It had been a while, and he had been sure he had forgotten by now what it felt like, but with you, so full of life as you writhed with lust in his arms, he remembered everything. And he needed more of it.

You must have sensed it, that he was about to let go, and his punishment came promptly. “Andrew,” you whimpered, as if his absence was pure agony, and he hurried, moving with lightning speed as he disposed of his jacket and made his way down to the floor. He knelt between your legs, pushing up the red fabric to expose his next treat. He was ready to dive in, to devour you, lick you into oblivion, but the gentle touch of your hand as it cupped his cheek held him back. 

Your eyes were so soft, full of affection and he felt a sting in his chest as the thought crossed his mind that he did not deserve this. Not at all. He was merely using you and still… His lips pressed to your palm in a tender kiss. The gesture did not even remotely match the endearment your eyes held, but it would have to do, for now. 

And then you surprised him again. In the blink of an eye your eyes darkened, your hand moving into his hair, while the other pulled the red fabric even higher. And on your lips, those pillows of sinfully smeared red, formed a smile that would surely bring him to his knees if he was not already kneeling. 

Eager for the touch of his lips you pulled him the rest of the way and his mouth found you with a moan, as if you were the most exquisite he had ever tasted. But what did it matter what you were to him? To you, he was the best you had ever had, and he had not promised too much when he had claimed he would know how to please you. He did. Oh god, he did. 

Swirling his tongue, he drew small circles around your clit until tiny stars started dancing before your eyes. But he had no intention of ending this so soon, you knew, as his tongue slowly glided all the way down to your wet entrance, teasing you, just to glide back up. He repeated his sweet torture a few times, over and over, until you lost count. And just when you thought he would never stop this torment, his tongue dipped into you. Hooking his arms around your legs he pulled you closer, sinking even deeper into you. You keened, one long, drawn out cry of pure delectation. Both of your hands had vanished into his hair by now, securing him right where he was. Not that you feared he would cease his endeavour, but you needed to feel him, needed to feel that this was real and not just a fever dream, your mind caught in divine delirium.

“Andrew,” you sighed breathlessly and for a second he stilled, dark eyes staring up at you, searching intently for any signs that you wanted him to stop. But you did not. Far from it. And so his eyes dipped back down, his upper lip quivering treacherously before his tongue darted out to lick one long stripe along your crevice. He sighed, eyes falling shut as he inhaled your scent, and you could feel your walls twitch upon the ferocity of his gesture. His forehead creased, nose scrunching as he bared his teeth, the two prominent fangs now unashamedly on display, and like a savage beast he leapt forward, to devour you properly. 

“Yes, yes,” you yelped, fingers tightening in his hair and he growled against you. “You’re gonna make me—” But you did not get to finish that sentence before your orgasm washed over you in a mighty wave, drowning out everything but you and him. Completely out of control, your legs wrapped around him, locking him up in the prison of your thighs where he still worked you, fervently, until your body went limp and your legs finally released him. 

Your eyes still closed, you could feel him, his kisses on the inside of your thighs, his movement as he left his spot between your legs, slowly crawling up your body while he covered it in more kisses, your hips, your stomach, your cleavage, your neck. You held him there for a while, relishing in the feeling of his mouth right there, right where it belonged, but all too soon for your liking he pulled away. 

Your tiny whine made him chuckle, and the most beautiful of smiles still curled his lips as he resurfaced from the crook of your neck.

“Should we take a little break?”

“Never.” Your answer was finite. You did not need a break. In fact it was the last thing you needed. There was something else you needed more than anything, and your fingers had already set out to get you exactly that. Skilfully they worked, opening button after button of his shirt, revealing more of that fuzzy chest. And now it was your turn to taste him, to kiss and lick that milky white skin while you kept on freeing him from his clothes. With a moan he sank against the back rest, one hand vanishing into your hair. He did not do anything, left it all to you, let you take what you wanted in your own sweet time. It was only when you had unfastened his belt and opened his trousers that he helped you shimmy them down his long legs. You had thought he would look more vulnerable once you had completely bared him, but there was nothing vulnerable about him. He was still exuding the same predatory power you had felt the moment you had first laid eyes on him and you knew you were damned for it, but it pulled you to him like a moth to a flame. 

“Turn around for me, angel,” he ordered and you did. Kneeling on the chaise longue, back turned to him, you melted into his touch as his fingers found the hidden zipper on your side. He was in no hurry to pull it down, allowing himself to revel in every inch of your skin that came to light, dragging one finger along it, all the way down to your hip, where he gathered the fabric in both of his hands and pulled it above your head. 

In an instant his hands were back on you, exploring your body. One arm hooked around his neck, you exposed yourself even further for him, and when he finally cupped your breasts, kneading them tenderly, playing with your hardened buds, you sank back against his chest. Wedged between you, resting right between the cheeks of your behind, you could feel him, all of him. And it was more than apparent that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

Carefully your hand moved through the tiny space between your bodies until you had found him. He hissed as your fingers closed around him, teeth sinking into your shoulder as you moved, slowly, stroking him, worshipping the silky hardness until it was not enough anymore to feel him like that. 

You guided him, bending forward until you could feel the gentle press of his head against your entrance. Lazily you dragged him up and down, coating him in the juices he had so expertly coaxed from you. 

“Fuck, angel, you are so wet.”

And with that you pushed your hips back, sinking him deep. Your reward was another growl that echoed through the silence. He was quick to pull you up against him, burying his face in your hair. He just held you like that for a while, enjoying your bodies in unity, his hand right above your heart, his breath drifting through your hair and down your neck, covering you in goosebumps. 

But then he came to life, his hips moving, slowly at first, then faster, and once he had found his rhythm, you knew you were lost to him. It was perfect, just perfect, the steady rocking of his hips, his hand following the call of your sex, vanishing between your thighs, while his other still held you, trailing up your chest until it had found your throat, gently applying just the right amount of pressure. There was no way you would last long. How could you with the amount of pleasure he coaxed from you, leading you towards your next high as if he had been born for that purpose alone. 

His lips found your ear, mouth falling open to lick along the bow it formed. “Come for me, angel. I know you want to.” And while he still whispered the redeeming words, you obeyed him once more. 

You would have tumbled and fallen from the might with which your high took hold of you, but he held you tight, mumbling soft words into your ear as you moaned and sighed and mewled like a possessed woman. Softly he pulled you back with him, moving your malleable body around until he had you straddling him, your head resting against his shoulder while his hand drifted soothingly up and down your back.

You had no idea how long the two of you had been sitting like this, your hand on his chest, his heartbeat steady underneath your fingertips, calming you until the fog that had clouded your mind had cleared. 

“I always thought vampires did not have a heartbeat,” you rambled as you pushed yourself off of him. 

Andrew smiled, like a mushy drunkard, you thought, and for a second the word besotted came to mind. But of course that was just you seeing things that were not there. And he made it so easy for you, this fantasy, even reaching for you to rest his hand against your cheek. 

“There is much for you to learn then.” 

And when he pulled you in for a kiss, you did not care anymore whether this was a fantasy or reality. Like a drug, his lips drowned it all out, the doubt, the white noise in your head, and made you focus on him alone, his mouth, kissing along your jaw, down your neck, rekindling the flame that had just cooled down to a faint glimmer in a heartbeat. 

“Andrew?” He hummed against your pulse, and you had to swallow hard, forcing down a moan, before you could continue. “Will you make me come again?”

He still did not leave his favourite spot, as if you had simply asked him for the time and not to fuck you again. “If that is what you want.”

It was. It was all you wanted, all you could think of right now. And since he made no inclination to give you what you wanted anytime soon, you reached for him. With a gasp you found him, still hard and ready for you. And as you guided him once more to where you needed to feel him, you told him about something else you wanted, something you longed for even more than for your next high. 

“I want you to come with me this time.” Your words finally made his mouth still, his head slowly coming back to light as you continued, “I want to feel it, want to feel you, deep inside, pulsing in your rapture.”

A growl rumbled deep in his chest, and there was something about his eyes that made you want to run, something wild, something carnal, something you could taste on his tongue as he pulled you in for another kiss, deep and searing, while he pushed up inside you in one sleek thrust. You pulled away in a gasp, panting heavily as you stared down at him. He had the audacity to smirk, his eyes darkening with every passing second.

“Go on then, angel. Make me come.”

As he spoke, his hands had grabbed your hips. He was guiding you now, the roll of your pelvis against his, just for a while, until he trusted you had overcome your surprise. And when you moved on your own, you could feel his hands wandering up the length of your back. His tenderness was misleading, your suspicion proven right as he dragged them back down harshly, his nails surely leaving trails in their wake. You keened upon the unexpected sensation, your head lulling back. And it seemed this was the moment he had been waiting for all along. Immediately his head dove down to your chest to claim his reward, sucking in your nipple like a starved man.

You felt as if you were falling, tumbling through the air while he kept on ravaging you. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, to grab onto something for dear life, your fingers found his hair again. You pulled and still he did not budge, tormenting your soft flesh until you were betrayed by your own body and he was rewarded with an unhinged twitch around his length. 

“It feels so good,” he moaned, and then it seemed you were not the only one who found herself betrayed by her own body when he confessed, “You feel so good.” 

And while you were still soaring on his declaration, however insignificant it might have been, he hit that one spot inside of you that made you clench even more violently than before. He moaned again, a low, guttural sound that made you quiver, and when your eyes locked with his, another smirk had found its way onto his lips. Like a bloodhound he had locked onto that spot that made you dizzy with desire, sending those tiny shocks through your body with every hit, they spread and pulsed, crawling along your skin until you could feel the racing beat of your heart underneath the thin layer of skin that covered your neck. 

He must have felt it too, one arm wrapping around you to pull you closer, while he used his free hand to brush away every last strand of hair from your shoulder. His gaze found you once more, and now the hunger was more apparent than ever, wafting through the dark pools of green, mixing, until they had lost all colour and you stared into pure darkness. 

Giving permission was easier than you had thought, it felt natural to nod, to watch his fangs grow to full size once he knew you did not oppose, to feel him grow inside you at the same time, and just as his teeth broke through your skin, he came, giving you everything he had while he took what he needed in return. 

You had feared it would be painful, but all you felt was pure bliss as he feasted on you, as he stilled the craving that he must have felt all night, stilled it on you. And as you gave yourself to him completely, you were carried away by the unexpected momentum of your high. You fell again, spiralling through a tunnel of colours that burst through the darkness around you. You felt light as a feather, but plunged down with the speed of a rock. And yet there was no room for fear. Not even as the colours began to fade and you were left with nothing but darkness. 

You were dizzy, almost delirious, fighting so hard to hold on to consciousness, and if you failed, it would be his fault entirely. It was not supposed to end like this, but you had tasted so good, so scrumptious, that your taste had sparked the faint hope he would finally be sated. An illusion, of course. This hunger would never end, but it had made him foolish, had made him take more than he usually did, almost too much. It had taken him everything to pull away, just in time, as it seemed.

A soft sigh came from the place against his chest where your head rested. He was still cradling you, softly rocking you back and forth after he had mumbled his futile apologies. You probably did not even hear them in the state you were in. The state he had put you in. 

He cursed himself as he carefully scooped you up into his arms. He usually did not let the donors stay over, never, that rule had not ever been broken before, but he did not care about rules anymore. What he cared about was you, and you needed rest.

Slowly he lowered you onto his bed before he laid down by your side, draping the sheets over you both. 

“Sleep, my angel, you deserve to rest.”

You looked so peaceful in your slumber, and he did not even question why his hand reached out for you. Lovingly, he brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen into your face, his fingertips gliding across your brow, your cheek. He wanted to touch your lips as well, but he was afraid he would wake you, and so he kept his distance, his fingers still tracing their form, even if he could not feel their silky touch. 

You were different. He had felt it all along, but it was only when he had tasted you, rich and warm on his tongue, that he had known for sure what it was that set you apart from all the others. You were what the likes of him called an old soul. One that had lived many lives and carried the wisdom of the centuries. Maybe that was why you had read him so easily. He was sure you had at least felt it from the beginning, what he was, and the fact that you had chosen to seek him out nonetheless still irritated him.

However odd all of this might seem, he was more than aware that finding an old soul—or being found by one—was a rare thing, especially today, when souls hardly lasted for one full lifetime. Maybe he should keep you, just for a while. To take care of you, your old soul and the body that housed it. Just to make sure the world would not lose another precious being like you. 

Metamorphosis (Sequel)

***

taglist:

@rosecentury

@lowkeysimpinloki

@fightmespideyboy

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Hiya! I have another au for you! I'm loving our vampire rp, it's so good! I'm really enjoying it!

This one is a little different, with a darker Lucifer, which I'm really starting to love.

The idea is that after Adam and Eve were cast out, Lucifer and Lilith became extremely powerful, Lucifer could rival in power to the strongest archangels and maybe even god himself.

The idea in this is that after falling, Lucifer and Lilith blamed each other for the fall and separated. Lilith was queen of the lower rings, while Lucifer ruled the upper rings. He's more powerful than her because of his angel status, but he let's her do her own thing, as long as she's not causing trouble.

Lucifer eventually taps into the raw power of Hell, which slowly starts tainting his mind, he's still him but he can lose control sometimes. Heaven eventually starts to learn how powerful Hell is and what can happen to Lucifer and Liltih- power wise. So they start making an army, creating angels specifically for war.

Lucifer has a few angels in Heaven that speak to him in secret, angels that don't agree with Heavans rules and secretly. They keep him up to date on what Heavens up to, so he starts forging a plan after learning of the angelic army.

Once Adam and Eve die, and they arrive in Heaven. Eve starts to live her afterlife in peace, waiting for her children.

Lucifer learned of a new weapon Heaven was making, something that could control a part of Heavens power. Once he learns that new weapon will be Adam, Lucifer decides to take Adam for himself.

Luicfer manages to get himself back into heaven, without them knowing, he's shocked to see that he was completely remade, hopefully his memories were in tacked.

---

Lucifer materialized in a cage-like room, he had no idea something this dark and unkempt could belong in Heaven. It made him almost uneasy.

Lucifer: why would they keep their precious first man here?

The darkness was almost suffocating, like it was affecting the air itself. The angelic steel bars still managed to shine bright, using that light, Lucifer squinted inside the cage, his eyes widened as he saw the vague outline of a body, kneeling on the floor, a chain connecting to the back wall to a silver collar around their neck.

Lucifer: Adam? Buddy, is that you? Long time no see-!

The body moved, head tilting up, and looking ahead. The scrapping of heavy chains against the stone floor made Lucifer wince a tad. Why are they using such thick chains on him? He's a human, nothing special.

Lucifer: I know we left off on a bad note! But I'd like to make it up to you~ let me help you with whatever the HELL Heaven is doing to you, huh?

Lucifer stuck his arm through the bars, smiling as the metal started to bed and melt away. His smile stopped as a giant hand reached out, and grabbed his hand. The amount of strength was impressive, Lucifer was so confused- he followed the outline of the person as they stood.

Lucifer: you're a big fuck aren't you-?

Adam: w-will you help me? I-it hurts-

Lucifer: I can see that buddy, I'll help you! But you have to do something for me~

Lucifer pulled his hand away, and straightened his outfit. It's taking a lot of his power to stay in Heaven, hidden.

Adam: y-yes sir, what do you need?

Lucifer: stop with the formalities Adam! We've been friends- well, acquaintances for years now!

Adam: I-I'm sorry sir- I don't know you, Heavens never introduced u-us-. P-please forgive me f-for not knowing you

Adam starts to collapse, but manages to catch himself against the wall. Never heard of him? Lucifer is definitely confused now. Fucking Heaven, they really think there's a good enough reason to mess with a humans memories? Why Adam? Why did the angels pick him? It doesn't matter at the moment, Lucifer needs to make his deal, let Adam fall to Hell, and set his plan into motion.

Lucifer: i- uh... never mind that right now buddy, I'll explain everything later. If you make a deal with me, I can help you!

Adam: w-what do you need from me-?

Lucifer: oh, nothing much~ just your soul~ aand your loyalty, company, body amd whatever power you have~! All for your freedom. You will cone with me, stay with me, at my home~ you'll be free Adam, free to speak your mind, do whatever you want, within reason of course- and most importantly, think for yourself.

Lucifer smiled as Adam made his way over to the edge of the cage, he was unsteady but doing a good job at staying up right. Although that chain wasn't helping. Lucifer couldn't help but gasp, as Adam's face came into what little light the bars had. His eyes were gold. Brighter than any other angels, shone like Hell fire.

Lucifer whispered: you're perfect...

Adam: I'll take your deal- please, get m-me out o-of here- please

Lucifer: of course, Adam! All you have to do, is shake my hand~

Adam watched as a clawed, black ashen hand slipped through the bars. He felt uneasy about this man- angel? He looks familiar but then he was sure he'd remember someone that looked like that.

He reaches out weakly, grabbing Lucifers hand. He jumps and is amazed by the golden light the swirls around them, he can feel it running through his veins like blood. He couldn't help but follow the golden light. His angelic chain drops off his neck, only to be replaced by a golden one. Lucifer couldn't help but think how beautiful Adam looked, covered in gold. It was really his colour.

Lucifer looked on with awe as he saw Adam fully. His golden wings rested weakly against the floor, his eyes wide with that curiosity that Lucifer loved so much. He couldn't help but glare as he saw the cuts and bruises that littered his body and how thin he looked. He was definitely taller, but surely Heaven would feed the man.

Lucifer: great! Now, the fun part~

Adam stood back as Lucifer began to melt the steel cage.

Lucifer: there~. Now, we must be quick, we do t want any extra company, do we~?

Adam: n-no sir-

As Adam began to limp out of the cage, he stopped as Lucifer put his hand on his chest, forceful enough to push him back slightly.

Lucifer: now, none of that 'sir' thing Addie~. Even though I am now your king, I was your friend first. Do you know my name?

Adam tried to think of a name, his head started to pound, like he was reaching into some void.

Adam: n-no- I- Agh! It hurts to t-think- to remember

Lucifer glared at the flood, fucking Heaven. He smiled up at Adam, it wasn't his fault.

Lucifer: my name is Lucifer, the king of Hell~! But that last bit isn't important right now, let's go Adam.

Adam grabbed Lucifer's hand, and they walked to the middle of the room, he felt so safe with Lucifer. His hand felt perfect in his, like they were made to be together. Adam couldn't stop looking at him, he was beautiful. He's never seen eyes so red, or skin so smooth. He couldn't help but be fascinated by his clothes-

Lucifer: hold on tight Addie~ I won't drop you, but I need you to hold on

The floor underneath the. Burned to life, a burning circle with strange lettering appeared. Just as Adam was taking it in, he felt a gust of wind made him cover his eyes. When he opened, he was amazed to see Lucifers white and red wings, three sets of them! He's only seen a few angels with multiple sets of wings, but none were as beautiful as Lucifers. Adam couldn't help but reach out and graze a feather with his finger.

Lucifer: you'll get a good touch when we get home Addie~ now, say goodbye to the angels~

Fire from the circle surrounded them, the heat was almost unbearable.

The next thing Adam knew; they were falling.

---

The whole idea is a battle between Heaven and Hell. Lucifer is super possessive of Adam, originally using him as a weapon to help him bring down and take control of Heaven. But Lucifer can't help but start having feelings from Eden resurface, it's either a blessing or a curse that Adam doesn't remember anything. Maybe he can make the first man fall for him again, and they can rule over Hell and Heaven together.

Hopefully this is interesting in someway 💀

Okay- bye!

Oh this is SUPER INTERESTING!!! How do you come up with this stuff it's amazing. Also, I love possessive Lucifer lol

-

Adam saw a world bathed mainly in different hues of red, even the sky was red with a giant star.

What was this place?

Lucifer was torn between watching where he was flying and looking at Adams face that was filled with curiosity trying to figure out where the Hell he was.

Literally Hell.

Lucifer dipped down and made a way towards Morningstar Manor and he touched down lightly at the front of the house as he held Adam close.

Lucifer: Let's get you settled in okay? You know, before the physical changes catch up with you and wipe you out.

Adam didn't know what he was talking about but he didn't really care. He was finally out of that cage to never be chained up like an animal ever again.

Lucifer took him inside, first to the kitchen so the poor man could get something to fucking eat. It looked like he hadn't eaten since he died.

He got his chef to cook a lavish meal for Adam to make sure the first man was full.

Adam: Thank you...

Lucifer ran his fingers through Adams hair, loving how soft the brown strands were.

Lucifer: You'll need your strength.~

[verybadatwriting]

To Be Held

Summary: Reader is injured.

Warnings: Angst, blood, and wounds

Notes: Thank you so much @arctrooper69 for the request and @promptsbytaurie for the prompts! :D

Prompts:

“You did so good. Don’t worry, you-you did so good.”

“Hey, hey, shhhh. Shhhh. You’re okay.”

“I know, I know it hurts.” 

Gn!reader

Word count: 1,019

Tech often held you like this. Your head tucked against his neck and shoulder, his arms wrapped around you, holding your chest to his, you were safe. Sometimes the two of you were curled up on your bed, sometimes you were seated atop the Marauder, Tech quietly mumbling about the stars, but never before in a pool of your own blood. You tried to drift away in these good memories, let go of the pain.

A surge brought you back. Tech’s hand pushed against the wound on your upper back. The blood quickly seeped through his fingers.

“Aah.” You writhed at the pain. 

“I know,” He said, “I know it hurts. Just stay awake. Please.” 

“Did…” You started to ask. “Did we do it?”

“Yeah,” Tech said after a moment, amazed you could be thinking of the mission while bleeding out “You did it. You did such a good job.”

“Really?” You asked, a slight waver to your voice.

“Don’t worry, you–you did so good.”

“I-is anyone else… hurt?” You managed between shaking breaths. 

“No,” Tech held you tighter. “The rest of the Batch is fine. They’re on their way. They’ll be here soon. You’ll be okay…. You’ll be okay.”

“Oh,” You said, taking another deep, shaky breath. “It’s that bad?”

You leaned back, pushing away from him so you could see his face. His front was soaked with blood. Your blood. You looked up at his eyes, but they were focused on the horizon. 

“They’ll be here soon,” He repeated. He sounded like he was trying to reassure himself more than you. 

“Hey.” You said, reaching a hand up to his face and tilting it down to face you. Your bloody fingers left four lines on his cheek. He lifted his similarly bloody hand from your back and grasped your fingers. 

“We need to keep pressure on the wounds,” He said, “Or else… or else you’ll …”

You nodded, and allowed him to pull you closer. His chin was tucked on the crown of your head, your cheek pressed to his collar. Seeping into the ground was your blood. Too much of it. 

“Tech,” you started, surprised at how weak your voice sounded, “I love you.”

“Shh, no, no. Don’t talk that way.” He shook slightly as he soothed you. “Shhh. Shhh. You’re okay.”

“Please,” You pleaded, “Just say it back.”

A few moments passed. Tech seemed to be mulling it over, coming to terms with something. 

“I love you, too,” He eventually whispered, as if the words were so fragile that saying them too loudly would shatter them. 

Reassured after hearing that, your breathing changed. The slow shaky breaths became shallow, and too fast.

“I love you,” Tech continued. “And all the little inside jokes we have. And how you can always find a way to make Omega laugh. And how… how you listen when I ramble. And when you talk about the future and your eyes fill with life. And when you smile.”

When he said that you smiled weakly against his shirt. Listening to him, you almost didn't mind the cold numbness spreading from your fingers and toes. Or the pain in your torso. One again, you could be lost in his voice. 

Your body was slowly shutting down in a last ditch effort to save you. Your entire being went numb, every muscle and tendon relaxing. At least that meant your breathing finally slowed. Your eyes drifted closed. The coppery taste of blood faded, along with the burnt smell from the ash and rubble. 

“Hey?” Tech squeezed you tighter. “Stay with me. Please.”

As your hearing – your last lifeline to the world of the living – faded, you faintly heard the sound of the Marauder flying low. 

Then there was nothing but darkness and a dull ache that you couldn’t quite place. You felt it deep inside, like you had been gutted, and smoldering coals had replaced your insides. It was the deepest grief you’d ever felt. It started to fade away, but you heard a familiar voice.

“Stay with me. Please.”

Tech. You thought. I need to get back to Tech. 

Although it felt like your limbs were made of lead, and weighed down in tar, you fought. This dark abyss wasn’t it for you. Not yet. You tore yourself from the inescapable stillness, despite the coals burning from inside.

You had to see Tech again. Hug him. Hold him. Tell him it would be alright. Save him from the pain you’d seen in his eyes.

After what felt like a lifetime, you heard something. It was muffled voices, ones you recognized, which slowly became crisper. You smelled sterile medical supplies, and felt your chest rising up and falling down with each breath. 

Pain accompanied consciousness. You could stop fighting, slide back into the abyss, but that would mean never seeing Tech again, so you soldiered on. 

With one last push you flung your eyes open, and you were back. Breathing, living, hurting. You’d escaped from the void, and you were back in your body.

You turned your head, and saw Tech in the seat next to your bed. He hadn’t changed his clothes, as evidenced by your dried blood. You didn’t know if it would ever come out. He had a faraway look in his eyes. The same one he had while waiting for the rest of the Batch to come save you two.

You shifted slightly, and he snapped to attention at the sound.

“Cyare,” He whispered, reaching out to take your hand. “Welcome back.” 

His eyes scanned your face, as if he was trying to make sure you were real. You squeezed his hand to reassure him.

“I am,” You said, voice scratchy and weak. You cleared your throat, which triggered a sharp pain. You let out a small gasp.

“Are you okay?” Tech asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. You looked at the lines in his face, deepened by a lack of sleep and surplus of concern. Reaching one hand up, you cupped his face.

“I’m fine, love,” You smiled up at him, and he returned a weary smile.

[chaotic-orphan]

Heroic Betrayal: part five

Read part one here

Continued from this point here

*~*~*~*~*

What kind of idiot were they to be stuck here? Hero should have told Sidekick when they got the tip about Villain… they should have told them that they were going to rough Villain up a bit, get the information they needed on Other Villain’s whereabouts and beat the shit out of them. Just a little revenge for touching a hair on Sidekick’s innocent head.

Even if they managed to catch Villain and mete out justice on Other Villain, they would have beaten the ever-living shit out of the wrong person, and that was something Hero didn’t want to think about in that moment.

That Flynn…

Their Flynn was the one who put Sidekick in the med bay.

Sidekick, who was still in the med bay, where Hero should be, but no. Instead, they were here, powerless and bleeding and it was all their fault.

Hero didn’t know how long they sat and stewed on that thought. Long enough that their nose stopped bleeding anyway. Hero tentatively reached up to their upper lip, their hand came away from it dry, the blood caked and flaked onto their face now.

“What happened to your face?” Hero angled their head down from where they stared at the ceiling to see Flynn standing on the other side of the cell bars.

“Fuck off, Red,” Hero grumbled, and fought the wince at their casual nickname for Flynn slipping out of their lips. “I’m not in the mood.”

A jangle of keys and the cell door was open, footsteps approaching Hero in their cot in the corner. Hero’s heart ached with every beat as Flynn came into their line of sight, concern drawing his features together.

How many times had they seen that same concern on his face? Told Hero it was going to be okay. Cleaned their wounds, laughed about the bruises the next day?

How much of it was a lie? — Hero wanted to ask. The question burned a hole on the tip of their tongue, but they didn’t dare speak it. They just stared up at the ceiling as best they could.

“What? You piss someone off already?”

Hero sighed. Flynn sat on the edge of the bed, moving closer to Hero, his hands going to inspect the damage like he so often did. It made something ache in Hero’s chest. Hero slapped their hands away, tears burning in the back of their eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Flynn,” Hero bit out. “You don’t get to betray me and then pretend to be my friend and concerned about me.”

Flynn stared; eyes sad as he said: “okay. Guess I deserve that.”

“You deserve so much more,” Hero said, eyes burning with hatred, voice barely above a whisper. “How many of our friends died because of you? Hmm?”

“Hero, not all of it–” Flynn began then stopped, huffed out a breath of air through his nose, hand running through his hair. “Not all of it was a lie. I am your friend. I do care about you.”

“Oh really? Then you’d never use your power on me, right?” Hero demanded, echoing back Flynn’s words against him. Flynn had the audacity to even look guilty at that, and Hero leaned forwards, hands on Flynn’s as they said: “I forgive you, okay. I forgive you if you let me go. Flynn, please.”

Flynn’s eyebrows knit together, clearly conflicted but he said nothing. After a moment, Hero let out a breath of disbelief and sat back against the wall again.

“Yeah,” Hero scoffed, “we’re friends.”

“You have blood all over your face, Hero. You really want to just leave it?”

“Why the hell not?” Hero said, trying to force their tone into some form of neutrality.

Flynn sighed and stood up from the cot. “Supervillain wants an audience with you. I was sent to retrieve you.”

Hero rolled their eyes but got to their feet no less. “Of course,” they said, pushing past Flynn to the door. “God help you actually wanted to see how I was doing.”

“Hero—”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Let’s just go.”

“Hero that’s not—”

Before they could get the fourth word out, Hero had whirled on them eyes blazing hotter than any hells furnace.

“Fair?!” They asked incredulously, their voice jumping two pitches at the sheer audacity of the word on their lips. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Flynn didn’t back down this time. Instead he stepped forward, looking down his nose at Hero.

“Yes. That is what I was going to say.”

“You are unbelievable!” Hero snapped matching Flynn with a step forward of their own. They held their cuffed hands up in Flynn’s face as if to remind him exactly why Hero was there in the first place. “If you’re my friend you’ll take these off.”

“Hero you know I can’t—”

Hero didn’t let him finish. Instead they placed their palms on Flynn’s chest and shoved them as hard as they could. Flynn looked about as bothered as if a fly had flown into the room.

“I can’t uncuff you Hero,” Hero said, lowering their voice to mimic Flynn’s and shoving him back again. “I can’t let you go Hero.” And again. “I can’t fucking think—” shove “for myself” shove “Hero.”

Hero glared up at Flynn trying to fight back the frustrated tears building behind her eyes. Anger was easier to focus on in the moment rather than that vast aching pit twisting uncomfortably in their gut.

“But I promise I’m your friend, Hero,” Hero mocked, shoving him back again until Flynn’s back hit off the wall. Flynn’s eyebrows curved down and it left a pang in Hero’s chest that they hated. “And then you have the gall to look hurt. As if I betrayed you.”

Hero ignored the tears that fell at the last sentence, or at least tried to. They tried to be firm and act tough, but saying the betrayal out loud, acknowledging it when it was just the two of them was too much.

“Would you trust me if the roles were reversed?” Hero asked, not even wanting to look at Flynn for the answer. The more they saw the conflict on his face the harder it was to hate him. Flynn however, didn’t take this into consideration when he put his hand on Hero’s face and tilted it back to face him.

Hero narrowed their eyes at him, pushing every ounce of anger into their gaze hoping they would turn into actual daggers and stab him.

“No,” Flynn breathed softly, thumb wiping away the tear streaks from Hero’s face. “I wouldn’t trust you if the roles were reversed, but I would hear you out of you tried to explain it to me.”

“And if I took you to Supervillain?!” Hero asked, their voice low and furious as they stepped out of Flynn’s touch. “The enemy we’ve been trying to stop for months?”

“You.”

“What?!” Hero demanded hotly.

Flynn’s gaze hardened, his face devoid of all emotion now except for his usual mask of easy confidence, smirk on his lips as if he didn’t just wipe Hero’s tears away.

“The enemy you’ve been trying to stop for months,” Flynn said again taking a step forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Hero matched his step with one back, cautious, hackles raised. “I mean the man you borderline obsessed over, Hero. Don’t you want to meet the genius who eluded you, the great detective, for all that time?”

“Not particularly,” Hero said through gritted teeth, with another step back that Flynn matched, getting closer and closer each time.

“That’s what you called him though, right? A genius,” Flynn teased, his grin showing his teeth. “I mean, fuck, Hero some of the moves he made you were damn right impressed with. You even said you’d have done exactly the same thing if—”

“I was in his position,” Hero cut Flynn off. Flynn’s smirk grew wider as he took another step closer, dipping his head conspiratorially.

“Now you can be,” said Flynn with a wide gesture of his hands. Hero followed his hand to the cell door that they happened to be right beside. Hero was keenly aware that Flynn was backing them towards the door the whole time. “Even just for the intellectual stimulation if nothing else.”

“Go fuck yourself, Flynn. I’m not willingly walking into the Lion’s den.”

Flynn’s eyelids fell half over his eyes. “It is less dignified to be dragged, Hero, but if you insist.”

Flynn made a grab for Hero’s arm but they dodged at the last minute, turning to shoulder Flynn out of the way. Flynn didn’t so much as budge from his spot. Instead he caught Hero by the strap of their scabbard and yanked them into Flynn’s chest.

“The hard way, wonderful. I wouldn’t expect any less of you Hero,” Flynn said, wrapping an arm over Hero's chest and keeping them close as they stepped out of the cell, pushing Hero forward with their own body weight. “Let's go introduce you to Supervillain.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The orphanage roll call (tag-list): @shywhumpauthor (lmk if you want to be added/removed)

[dhwty-writes]

Assumptions, Innocently Made

It's been three years but I am back with a fic! This is a two parter with the second part almost done that will hopefully stay this way. Please enjoy your fake dating!

Summary: Essek's mother worngfully assumes that her son and the wizard of the Mighty Nein and recently proclaimed Hero of the Dynasty are more than what they appear to be. After inviting both of them to a ball, Essek must ask Caleb to indulge the Umavi's misunderstanding for all three of them to avoid losing face.

Warnings: none

Read on Ao3

Hovering in Caleb's room, wringing his hands, Essek Thelyss did not look any less out of place than the first times he had deigned to enter the Xhorhaus. His perpetual smile was replaced by an anxious expression that did not seem to befit his otherwise composed appearance.

Exactly fifteen minutes and forty-two seconds had passed since Caleb had bid the Shadowhand enter, over ten of which have been spent in Caleb’s room with Essek evidently trying to gather his courage and his words. All of Caleb’s attempts at conversation – offering refreshments, asking how he might help – had been rebuffed so far, so he figured he might as well wait.

“There has been... an assumption,” the Shadowhand finally managed.

“An assumption,” Caleb echoed. He had no clue what to do with that information.

“And a misunderstanding.” Essek’s brow furrowed even deeper.

“I'm afraid I do not follow.”

Essek Thelyss sighed as if this whole ordeal was a terrible imposition on him. Which it probably was. “It appears as if the first time I entered this abode it had been perceived by another member of Den Thelyss. Who in turn took it upon themself to report your… display to the Umavi.”

Caleb frowned, still not completely sure if he understood. His time in Xhorhas had been characterized by rapid departures and daring missions and had not left much time for studying this society they now apparently lived in. As such, his grasp on the intricate workings of the upper echelons of Kryn society remained rather loose, although he understood that the Umavi were not to be trifled with.

Essek continued: “After that first interaction, we have been watched closely and… an assumption has been made that we are much more closely entangled than we actually are.” For the first time since Essek had come to him, he looked Caleb in the eye with a sneer of contempt and annoyance. “It has been... suggested that you accompany me to the Umavi's ball to celebrate the homecoming of her younger son.”

“I see,” Caleb said although he very much did not see. “And I suppose that is not the kind of suggestion one can refuse?”

Essek looked genuinely taken aback at that. “Certainly not.”

“Well, I suppose there is no harm in that”, Caleb said with a shrug, although the very thought of it made his insides crawl. “I will come with you, and we shall clear this up. Nothing to worry about, friend.”

“And embarrass the Umavi in front of her whole court?” A pained expression passed Essek's face. “I think not. It is much safer to claim we broke this off after this occasion.”

“You said we were followed, yes? But the only times we met were in public or when you teleported us across the continent. How many people can truly believe that we are… entangled?” “Were wizards”, Essek replied as if that explained everything. And for one such as Essek Thelyss it probably did. Caleb supposed the Shadowhand would have no issue in teleporting to the Xhorhaus without any of the Nein being able to prevent him from doing so. Or Caleb's room for that matter. Awkwardly, Caleb coughed and dearly wished for his beard to hide the flush coloring his cheeks.

“Besides, it does not matter what people believe,” Essek continued. “The only thing that matters is what the Umavi believes. And the Umavi believes that I have been hiding a relationship from her.”

Caleb considered this for a moment. While there were many things that he could think of that he would rather be doing than spend an evening in Kryn high society with only Essek Thelyss at his side, the man in question seemed genuinely quite perturbed by the thought. It seemed only right to try and help him seek a way out of this situation. “I could go on a mission and not return in time,” he suggested. “Or I could pretend I fell sick on the day of the event.”

“The first would be a terrible insult to Den and Umavi alike and in case of the second, clerics would be queueing in front of your house to relieve you of your ailment.” Essek sighed and passed a hand through his perfectly styled hair, liberating one strand that now stood up at an odd angle. He muttered something under his breath and before Caleb could inquire, he continued louder. “I do not know what I was attempting here, but I am afraid I do not see a way out of this situation without insulting the Umavi and ruining your reputation. So, I would be much obliged if you could do me this favor... and take one off the list you and your group owe me.”

“What about your reputation?” Caleb couldn’t help but ask.

“Let that be of no concern of yours.”

“I will do you this favor,” he quickly agreed, hoping he had not angered the Shadowhand beyond measure. “I am happy to be of assistance to a friend. It is only that you seem rather bothered by the idea.”

“I will manage,” Essek snapped. And that seemed to be that.

Caleb politely waited for Essek to speak again but when the silence stretched too long, he quietly cleared his throat. “What will be expected of me?”

“Well, in this case I am glad to say that I happen to be a rather solitary creature. Bringing another soul with me will already raise enough eyebrows, never mind public displays of affection.” Essek winced and Caleb couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at that. “You need do nothing more than hold my hand. There will be enough drink and food and music available to divert you, and you will likely not lack in conversational partners as half the Den will jump at the chance to thank one of the heroes of the dynasty.”

“Conversation, yes? And here I thought you only required me to look pretty.”

“That too,” Essek said, apparently having missed the joke entirely. “I will forward you some books you might peruse with regards to Kryn etiquette, as well as the address if my tailor, if you are amenable.” “Yes Essek,” Caleb said kindly, “I am amenable.” He did not dare say that he likely couldn’t afford the services of the tailor that usually dressed the Shadowhand; he would find a solution to that when the time came. At least the books should prove to be useful.

It was not long after that that Essek excused himself and Caleb was left with the insurmountable task of telling the Mighty Nein of what had transpired. The recollection of the events was accompanied by much shrieking and hollering that Caleb was glad Essek did not have to suffer, although it did end in the rather conscientious act of Beauregard cornering him later and asking with real concern: “Are you alright?”

Caleb shrugged. “I will be. It is a favor for a friend, ja?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. But it is a pretty big ask to essentially pretend to be someone’s boyfriend. Especially if you have a crush on that guy.”

He bristled at that. “I do not have a crush on Essek Thelyss,” he insisted perhaps a bit too loudly because next he knew he heard Jester cooing from one room over:

“Cay-leb, it is alright if you are in love with Essek, he is like super hot!”

‘I do not even trust him yet,’ he thought but did not dare say out loud, lest he be harassed by Jester. “I’ll be fine,” he ground out and beat a tactical retreat to his room.

The distance and the wall between them allowed him to ignore Beauregard sedulously: “Yeah man, it’s whatever! I just wanted to offer you to talk!”

The next morning, there was a knock on the door as they all ate breakfast. After they all shouted for the visitor to come in and they didn’t, it was Caduceus who went to great them. When he returned, it was with a confused expression on his face and a stack of books under his arm. “There were some books floating outside the door. I think they’re for you, Caleb?”

Absentmindedly Caleb nodded as he took hold of the books, silently wondering if Essek was nearby or if he had somehow managed to relieve himself of the range restrictions that usually came with the Unseen Servant spell. When he finally concluded that he would never ask but instead try and see if he couldn’t find a work-around himself, he was already surrounded by the rest of the Mighty Nein, who were attempting to see what it was that he had received.

With a sigh he spread the books out for them to peruse while he dug around in his component pouch for a pinch of soot and salt and began flipping through his spellbook.

“That’s not fair, I can’t read any of that!” Jester complained the same instant that Beauregard shouted, “Sick, they’re all in Undercommon! Hey, can I borrow one of those? I really need to practice.” There was no way Caleb would be able to concentrate like this.

Without a word, he pushed back his chair, eliciting shouts from various members of the Nein and announced: “I’ll be in the library to read. Any of you are welcome to join so long as you are quiet.”

In the end, Beauregard indeed did join him but not before she had caused quite a ruckus in the training room. When she entered the library sweaty with a “’sup” and plopped down on a chair opposite of Caleb he leveled her with a detached glare. When she then deigned to make grabby hands for one of the books, his glare grew even more unimpressed.

Only by virtue of being loans from one Essek Thelyss were the books saved from being thrown at Beauregard’s head. Instead, he calmly handed her one of the slimmer tomes via his Mage Hand.

She assumed a position in the chair that Caleb refused to believe was comfortable and began skimming the table of contents. As soon as she appeared to be done, supposedly already bored, she interrupted him for the second time since entering the room: “So how’s the study sesh been so far?” she asked with a yawn.

“Not as quiet as I hoped,” he grumbled. On the other hand, when was time spent with the Mighty Nein ever?

“Hah!” Beauregard laughed at that and looked at the book again. “Man, this shit looks complicated. There’s an entire chapter about hair ties. And another about buttons and cufflinks. Shit and I thought empire rich folk were obnoxious.”

Caleb sighed. He couldn’t say that he didn’t agree. In his time under Ikithon’s tutelage he had received a modicum of training as to how to behave in high society and even though his training had been rudimentary, he could not recall it being even remotely as complicated as what he was dealing with now.

Since this morning, he had made it only halfway through one of the books and despite his perfect memory, his mind was swimming with the exact angle at which one had to bow as well as greetings and different forms of address that seemed to have repercussions on the use of a language he didn’t speak. He could only hope that a casting of Tongues would equip him with the ability to not make a total fool of himself. And that he would have enough spell slots for the entirety of the ball.

The next days were spent like this: Caleb and Beauregard retreated to the library where they would spend their time perusing the books Essek had sent, occasionally debating their contents. They would be left in relative peace from the rest of the Mighty Nein, except for Caduceus poking in his head to ask if they were hungry or thirsty or the usual cracks and bangs that their friends caused. While most of them sounded concerning, Caleb was called only once to cast Control Flames on a misfired Fluffernutter that threatened to set their pantry aflame. What those materials had been even doing close to the kitchen, Caleb thought better not to ask.

Occasionally, he would receive a Sending from Essek, requesting this or that or reminding him of something he had previously forgotten. Caleb acquiesced his every wish and in turn asked Jester more than once to send a message back to Essek to clarify something. While Essek’s books spoke a great deal about the hairstyles of different dens, what about people without dens? Caleb insisted that he could just wear his customary ponytail, Jester insisted that he wouldn’t fit in. Essek assured him that any hairstyle was fine, as long as he didn’t mirror any style from a prominent Den. Caleb asked about the right color of clothing – anything but white – and the need for gifts – Essek would take care of that – as well as if he should wear his token of the Bright Queen – absolutely, if he wanted to be taken seriously. Despite his previously prickly demeanor when dealing with them, Essek remained ever patient in face of the constant probing.

He and Beau did not read every day. One day, Caleb cast Tongues on himself and attempted to hold a conversation with individuals of different stations. They came to the conclusion that while the spell was able to inflect the words correctly, it only did so if the titles were spoken in the original Undercommon. So, the next day was spent trying to teach Caleb the correct pronunciation so the spell would pick up on his intention.

One of the books was entirely about ballroom dances that were currently fashionable in the Dynasty. After quite a lot of ridicule at his attempts, Beauregard finally volunteered herself to help him. The upside of that was that Beauregard was trained enough to pose as a suitable dance partner. The downside was that they had to move to the training room for that and soon attracted an audience.

Jester was the first to jump in and demand to “learn the Xhorhas dances too pretty please!” And Caleb had not yet found the strength to deny her anything and seriously doubted that he ever would. After that came Nott and after Fjord joked that Caleb would only dance with the ladies, he dragged him in as well. After that it was almost a point of pride, to dance with the rest of the Mighty Nein as well, including Yeza, who seemed exceptionally clumsy for a man of his profession.

Almost a week had passed when Jester grew evidently bored with the lack of something to do.

“Cay-leb,” she whined, draped across a chaise longue in a position she had no doubt copied from her mother. “Do you know what you’ll wear yet?”

“No,” he said simply. He was busy trying to memorize the correct order of meal items as well as the corresponding cutlery. Many he was familiar with, but he could not quite grasp how to crack the shell of a giant spider leg or why purple worm tartare was to be eaten only from specialized silver spoons. When she’d read that Beauregard had apparently been unable to keep herself from making a joke about Essek’s circumstances of birth.

“Have you not even… like, thought about it, though?” Jester continued to inquire.

It took a moment for him to recall what this was in reference to. Eventually he said. “Essek gave me the name of his tailor. I’m sure they’ll have something suitable.”

Jester gasped at that and sat up. “Cay-leb!” she shouted way too loudly. “The ball is in like less than a week!”

“So?”

“It takes time to make pretty clothes, you know?”

Caduceus, who was currently watering the plants, nodded sagely. “Nine women can’t make a baby in a month.”

“I don’t need entirely new clothes. They can just alter something for me to fit.”

Without looking up from her book on the genealogy of Den Thelyss, Beauregard snorted.

“What?”

“Dude.” She levelled him with a glare. “There is no way Essek buys off the rack.”

“But-!”

“Just go to the damn tailor, Caleb,” Beauregard interrupted him rudely. With an eyeroll she turned back to her reading.

“I’ll come with you!” Jester immediately volunteered. Caleb wasn’t sure if he found that prospect reassuring. However, he had spent enough time with Jester to know she was a woman not easily denied once she had put her mind to something.

Beauregard had the audacity to sink deeper into her armchair and wave at him. “Have fun!”

It was like this that Caleb found himself in the company of Jester standing in the middle of a tailor’s shop in the Gallimaufry district where everything in the shop window looked like it was worth more than everything Caleb owned combined.

They were greeted by a very friendly Drow who introduced herself as Phaere. “Caleb Widogast, I presume?” she inquired with a small bow as appropriate for greeting someone of a higher station in employ of one of the ruling Dens. “The Shadowhand told us to expect you. We are honored to provide you with whatever you need.”

Caleb was quite taken aback. He didn’t know that he had ever been treated with this much respect and deference, much less since he had become Caleb Widogast. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat, not quite sure how to respond.

At least one good thing came from having Jester around, for he was spared from having to figure that out. “Ohmygosh that’s so nice!” she squealed and barreled to the front. “Hi, I’m Jester! I’m Caleb’s friend and I’m here to make sure that he looks his best for Essek!”

“Then you have come to the right place,” Phaere said with a smile and bowed again. “Whatever your wish, you shall receive it.”

“I am not yet very familiar with the fashions of the Dynasty,” he finally managed to say. “So I commend myself to your capable hands. Whatever you think will suit a wizard of my station and stature I am sure will serve well.”

A minute expression of confusion passed over the tailor’s face. “As a hero of the Dynasty at the Shadowhand’s side? I’ll say you can wear whatever you want to.”

Again, Caleb felt wrong-footed and unsure as to how to respond. This time, Phaere seemed to sense his discomfort and suggested: “How about I show you some fabrics? We can talk about the design later.”

The fabrics Phaere did show him were difficult to comprehend. He had never felt anything as soft as spidersilk, never seen anything as finely embroidered as the borders on display, never thought brocade could look as rich as that. Occasionally they would be interrupted by Jester who had found something herself: “Cay-leb, look at this! Wouldn’t hat be a great sash,” holding a bolt of sheer white fabric that made Phaere freeze. She only relaxed when he explained that white was reserved for Umavi. Or: “Cay-leb, we could weave that into your hair!” pointing at ribbons of cloth-of-gold or -silver that were surely for bound edges. They even spent twenty minutes debating over buttons with Jester insisting he should get the gem-encrusted ones to “treat himself” while he maintained that the plain silver ones would be enough. When he mentioned that he did not want to overshadow Essek, Phaere laughed and assured him that wouldn’t be possible.

Eventually, they settled on fabrics that were simple, but only deceptively so. The cut Phaere suggested was traditional and a little flashy for his tastes, though she was excited to include his suggestions on how to adjust it according to Empire fashions, if only subtly. In the end, Caleb couldn’t help but admit that he was satisfied.

“Thank you,” Caleb said earnestly. He genuinely believed that he was in good hands with the tailor. “I would now like to discuss the matter of payment.” He had been dreading this conversation.

Phaere blinked at him dumbstruck. Eventually, she said: “I can assure you, the Shadowhand has that matter quite handled.”

He suddenly felt faint. It was one thing receiving a new set of robes that probably cost more than his childhood home. It was quite another to have someone else pay for it.

He opened his mouth to protest but before he could get a single word out, he was interrupted by an armful of blue tiefling. “Ohmygosh Cay-leb!” Jester squealed as he hugged him tight. “That’s so romantic! Essek wants you to look so good for him and you don’t even have to pay!”

“Right,” he muttered. “Very romantic.” In his mind he made a note to thoroughly thank Essek for his expense. “Then at least allow me a tip for an excellent service.”

Phaere bowed her head, hardly in a place to object to that. So, Caleb dug around in his purse and set seven gold pieces on the counter, the last he had left to his name. Surely the Mighty Nein would take another mission soon and until then he would get by.

Eventually, the day of the ball arrived and while Caleb didn’t feel comfortable, he was at least reasonably confident that he would be able to spend one night among Kryn nobles without making a complete fool of himself. Or Essek for that matter.

He was fussing with his new robes in front of his mirror, still adjusting to the asymmetrical style favored in the dynasty. Additionally, he fought the urge to hunch his shoulders and disappear in the crowd. That was not why Essek was bringing him tonight. Essek was an individual few could overlook, and Caleb had vowed to do him proud.

Far too soon came the quiet knock on the door, but when he bid them enter, it was not one of the Mighty Nein announcing that Essek had arrived. Instead, surprisingly, it was Yasha, who quietly closed the door behind her. “You look good,” she said after scrutinizing him from head to toe.

“Thank you.”

“Not like when we first met,” she added. “I mean, I didn’t want to say something back then but… you know. You look better now. Good. These robes look good.”

“Thank you,” Caleb said again, unsure how else to react.

“Are you nervous?” Yasha blurted suddenly. When he didn’t immediately answer, she just barreled on: “I mean, I’m sure you are. It’s alright to be. I’m also sure that you’ll have a great date tonight.”

Despite his resolutions, Caleb hunched his shoulders. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Well…” she said with a shrug.

Before he could ask her to elaborate, the moment was interrupted by Jester’s shout: “Cay-LEB! He’s here!”

And that was all the warning he got before the Mighty Nein barged into his room to herd him outside. In the foyer, he was stopped by Nott, who was wiping away a fake tear. “Look at my boy!” she screeched. “All grown up and ready for prom night!”

Caleb frowned deeply. “I’m not sure I’m familiar with that tradition.”

“Never mind. Go get him, Lebby!”

He was about to reply something when Beauregard shouted: “Caleb, your man’s getting impatient!”

Naturally, all the Nein were there to see them off. Caleb wished he could vanish in the ground, especially with all the jeers and calls of “Hot boi!” that sounded from the porch. Fjord managed to shout above them all instructing Essek to “have him home by ten, young man!”

Hurriedly, Caleb walked over to Essek who frowned with confusion. “I do not believe the ball will be done by ten o’clock.”

“Ignore them,” he griped. “Are you ready?”

Essek heaved a sigh. “As ready as I’ll be.” He offered his arm to Caleb and within a breath they were gone.

[highfantasy-soul]

Ok, here's my breakdown of Jessie Gender's video on NATLA. I decided not to post this as a comment on the video because I just don't feel like it would be productive, but I needed to refute the points she was making as she's a quite respected (at least, I really respect her opinions on things) video essayist and I felt like this video was...wild.

So, I guess it's best to just watch along with her video and read my commentary side-by-side because I don't give much context for my points, this is just a stream-of-consciousness style response.

To be perfectly clear - this is not intended to be a 'hate post' about her, this is just me feeling very strongly that the interpretations of things she had in her video needed to be talked about and another perspective given.

I shift from saying 'you' to 'Jessie' like halfway through (when I decided not to post this as a comment) but I don't feel like going through and changing all those, so yeah, just ignore it.

1) you insulted a martial arts kata as 'a mildly choreographed dance' - it shows a complete lack of understanding of other cultures and a desire to take a quick dig at something you didn't like in a way that insults a cultural practice. I really didn't expect to hear that sort of comment from you so it was pretty jarring when you said it. Ironically, you say that Sokka was wrong to assume the Kyoshi warrior's kata was a 'dance' because that's 'a girl's place' when...you literally made the same insult with not a hint of recognition just a few minutes earlier about a movie you didn't like…

2) I felt that the live-action really deepened a lot of the themes from the OG - take Iroh's storyline for example, fleshing out Suki's character so she's...you know, her own character and not just there to teach Sokka a lesson, and delving into how hard of decisions you have to make during a century long war. Idk, I'm just really curious as to how you felt quite literally the polar opposite of me

3) Sokka's sexism: the animated show handled it one way, but Sokka's treating women as 'less than' wasn't a core part of his character - in all honesty, it doesn't actually make any sense as he was raised by Hakoda (who we never see being sexist), Gran Gran (who left the NWT due to its sexism), and was surrounded mostly by older women. The sexism storyline in the cartoon was to teach a very blatant lesson to kids "don't be sexist, boys!" while the live-action made Sokka's struggles much more realistic and in line with the world building: he struggled with non-traditional masculinity and if he was 'allowed' to be that way while they were at war. For me, it's a much more important message for young men today than the very dated 'women can fight, too!' message that was needed in the early 2000s. It's very odd to me how you claim that Sokka always taking charge isn't ever challenged when...in literally the scene you're showing when you say that, Katara challenges him.

4) I'm sorry, but I cannot possibly see how Suki is her own person more in the animated version than in the live-action. She was literally created solely to teach Sokka a lesson and have no character traits other than 'I'm a strong woman warrior' where 'woman' means 'I like romance' rather than...I'm a whole person with my own wants and desires and fears that have nothing to do with a love interest as is shown in the live-action. You keep comparing the animated and live action as though they were trying to tell the same story about Sokka's journey with his role in the world, but they weren't. Of course Suki's attitude toward him is going to be different, of course he's not going to need to tell her 'you're right, I'm a dumb, terrible man, pretty please could you teach me', because it's a different dynamic they're going for in the live-action.

5) When Sokka pinned her in their lesson in the live-action idk how you got that she was 'demuring herself' to Sokka? Just as in the cartoon, he managed to get the upper hand - which she promptly took back, teaching a lesson along the way. She didn't make herself less so Sokka could feel secure in his masculinity - it's a bit odd you feel that showing respect to someone and helping them learn is 'demuring yourself'. I much prefer them respecting each other than the animated version of them seeing each other as less than and then...her giving him a kiss to prove 'see, I'm a romance-loving girl, too'.

5) To me, Suki beating Sokka in the live-action when the first sparred wasn't her being mean, it was her not understanding how much less experience Sokka had fighting - she genuinely thought he would be able to hold his own against her because he had told her he was the best warrior in his tribe. Her face clearly shows 'I have no idea what I did wrong - I thought that type of sparring is what everyone did for fun, why was he uncomfortable with it?' Not really sure why you made the connection that us seeing Sokka's abs was meant to indicate that his insecurities are unfounded when...literally the whole season shows us that Sokka's struggles aren't "end goal = big strong warrior" but rather "you don't have to be a big strong warrior to help, you are allowed to delve into other aspects of who you are and those are just as important". Just because he has muscles, also doesn't mean he's a competent fighter - those two things aren't the same.

6) It feels like you took certain scenes and made wildly left-field interpretations of them and then claimed that that's what the show was intending you to take from it. It's like saying that the scene that cuts from Sokka saying he bets Momo tastes like chicken and cutting to the scene that shows people cooking meat actually means the showrunners are saying Sokka is going to cook and eat Momo this season and that will then give him the powers of the Avatar. It's very clearly not what the showrunners were saying, but if you interpret it in the least forgiving way and then make a wild leap off that, then yeah, you might get upset with that made-up interpretation. Same with the reasons they didn't put Sokka in the Kyoshi outfit - there is 0 evidence of them nixing that part due to transphobia. I didn't see it as any malicious intent, just a streamline of the plot so Sokka doesn't have to go change before running away on Appa.

7) I feel that the live-action DOES challenge the Fire Bender's colonialist rhetoric in the Kyoshi Island episode, but the animated...doesn't? At all? It's solely about girl power - and as we see with Azula and all the women fire nation soldiers, the fire nation doesn't seem too caught up in sexism. You know what they are caught up in? Which you mention? Bender supremacy. And that's what the live-action directly addresses with Sokka being so surprised that Suki is able to hold her own so well even though she isn't a bender. He's seen just how powerful benders are (they destroyed his home, killed his mom, and beat his ass last episode) and it's in line with the worldbuilding that he feels like he's already several steps behind in being a good enough warrior because he doesn't have bending (a storyline that isn't brought up until an episode in season 3 of the animated show). To me, the live-action Kyoshi storyline refutes the Fire Nation's imperialistic themes much better than the animated show does.

8) The live-action's lesson wasn't that might makes right - Suki never did any strength training exercises with Sokka, she taught him how to control his body and use his opponent's strength against them. Fight smarter, not harder. Know what you're fighting for, not just that you want to fight. Even if you don't have the resources of your opponent, it doesn't mean you're doomed from the start. That last one is particularly poignant when we look at how much stronger the Fire Nation is than the other nations they're subjugating: it's the classic 'oppressed rising up against their oppressors and not winning because they just punched harder, but because they used what they had to fight for a righteous cause and didn't just give up because the other side was more powerful'. That's quite directly what the live-action was saying - the exact lesson you thought it should be saying. You have to do some serious extrapolating from the animated episode to get to those themes while the live-action drew that concept up to the forefront immediately.

9) Aang's journey to accept his Avatar responsibility and the previous Avatar's enforcing this is directly from the animated series. Like, directly. It's not the live-action show saying 'colonialism good'. Showing the Avatar power wasn't the showrunners saying 'see, this OP is good and cool', it was to show the magnitude of it - something the animated show does too. The live-action does talk about how terrifying and damaging that power is - literally the previous episode has Aang almost toss Katara and Sokka off the mountain and they mention it. Just earlier in that episode, Sokka talks about Aang almost killing them and Aangs major hang up about embracing it is that he might hurt someone. Kyoshi argues that not learning to control it will hurt more people and - y'all, individuals are allowed to have their own views of the power that everyone doesn't have to agree with. What happened to 'make strong characters with flaws in their world view?' did you all of a sudden decide that's NOT actually good writing? So having the Avatar who used her powers liberally, and as the video states, used them maybe too much, telling Aang that he needs to use his own powers a lot is…consistent characterization? Which is then challenged by Roku later as he tells Aang that all the Avatars are different and have different views on the power of the Avatar. Why is Kyoshi's opinions suddenly taken as wholly accurate in representing what the show overall is trying to say? She's giving her opinion to Aang - an opinion that has some truth to it, but also some flaws that Aang will need to navigate on his own journey. Kyoshi and Roku's stories are not compressed all into Kyoshi - only the aspect of Roku taking control of Aang and using his body to fuck shit up in the Avatar state is compressed - not the ideological aspects of it

10) Sokka supporting Katara's fight against Pakku is a culmination of his arc to let go of obsessively protecting her and actually letting her decide her course of action herself - because his arc was different in the show than in the animated series. Trying to say that the reason he told her to kick Pakku's ass didn't fit because he was never sexist wasn't the reason - it WAS a culmination of his arc, you just refused to see it by clinging to the old one.

11) The whole argument as to 'why show genocide' I already made a post about, but to condemn the depiction based on the way you interpret the showrunner's quote is disingenuous. Again, it's taking something and making up a narrative around it so you can feel justified in hating it. It's important to show a culture before they are killed because they deserve to be seen as people, not just martyrs. They had lives. They lived and were happy and had a rich culture. They were not just 'fated to die and be told of in history books'. Genocide is disgusting and hard to watch - it's calculated and brutal. Showing that drives home just how awful the actions of the fire nation are in practice rather than just theory. Yes, the airbenders fighting was 'cool' to see - in the way that all action is 'cool' to see. But no, the genocide wasn't played as 'look at neat fighting!' in the live-action. It was shown as brutal and terrible, horrifying and surprising, and the airbenders didn't deserve what happened to them. It also gives you a direct view of what the fire nation is capable of when they come to the south pole and the northern water tribe: you've SEEN the devastation first hand and you DON'T want to see it again. The threat isn't theoretical, it's very real.

11.5) To take a CHILD'S quote about the sequence being 'so cool' is absolutely WILD to me. GORDON IS A CHILD! No, he's not going to have the most sophisticated and politically nuanced sound bite to say about the action sequence in an interview. HE'S A CHILD! Holy mother of god. To use that to bolster your point that 'that's the way it was intended to be viewed and how everyone is going to view it!' is just…..holy shit. You're taking media interpretation from A CHILD??????? Do you think, if we interviewed a child about the OG show, they'd talk about the fucking colonialism??? How Azula was abused too and didn't deserve her fate?? Or do you think they'd say "The fight between the Fire Lord and Aang at the end was so cool!" Honestly thought Jessie Gender wouldn't try to bolster her interpretation with a quote from A CHILD, but I guess here we are…

12) It's wild that she makes the point that conservatives are incapable of reading deeper than just the surface-level visuals of a story while…she's doing literally the same thing just in the opposite way. The live-action depicted the genocide, therefore they MUST just want to 'cool' visual of firebenders fighting airbenders! There can't be any other things at play here! No story being told whatsoever because all it is is spectacle! That's all I see! Ironically, she's falling into the same trap of not looking deeper at why one might depict the horrors of genocide and the battle against people with no army.

13) Aang actually treats the genocide as more immediate in the live-action than he does the animated show. Most animated episodes, you can forget that it even happened, while in the animated show, it pops up a lot in some unexpected ways like when he's uncomfortable waterbending because Gyatzo had always been his teacher, when he yells at Bumi for making light of the genocide, his desire to get to the north to keep it from happening again, when Zhao proclaims that he can wipe out an entire race of benders and Aang says he knows exactly what that's like, when he constantly stays to help people because 'I couldn’t help my own people, but I can help them'.  Not only through Aang, but also through every child in the series - like with the animated show, the live-action shows how kids are shaped by the generational trauma of the war plus the immediate effects of it: Teo ready to fight, Jet making compromises to fight back, Sokka shouldering too much responsibility so young, Katara's trauma around her mother's death and her waterbending, Bumi losing his faith, Zuko and Azula being shaped by their father to be the perfect weapons to continue the war.

14) Interpreting Zuko's comment of 'sometimes the weak can become strong' right after his father mutilated him for showing compassion is not meant to be taken as a thesis that 'Zuko just needs to get better at fighting, this is what the story is saying, I am very smart'. It's showing HIS CURRENT view of the world - the idea that his father has taught him that he needs to be strong and Zuko has bought that and wants desperately to earn his father's love. Zuko's story through the series is showing that 'strength' isn't what his father defines it as (or what Jessie defines it as in her video) but rather it's strength of character - compassion is not weakness, it's strength, and no, that doesn't mean if you have compassion you punch harder.

15) The live-action show makes the Fire Nation MUCH more nuanced than the animated show - we see how Ozai and Azula aren't just maniacal villains, but we see the pain and torment their upbringings deal out to them, and in turn, deal to others. It shows the cycle much more clearly and showing fire nation citizens who disagree fleshes out the culture even more.

16) Jet was much more nuanced in the live-action as he's RIGHT about the mechanist being a spy and the king being lax in his duties. He's created a community of people to try to heal from the harm the fire nation has caused them and he gives actual good advice to Katara, helping her emotionally heal and remember the good aspects of her mother.

17) The argument that 'the live action is trying to ignore the past' is a massively simplified narrative. The live-action is showing Aang stuck in the past, unable to take large steps into the future. Pain, trauma and loss can anchor us in the past - it's HEALTHY to keep moving forward rather than only thinking about the pain in the past (ie Jet's advice to Katara). Aang was continually trying to avoid the genocide happening again while simultaneously trying to get past Avatars to do the big hard work for him. His lesson is not to 'forget the past just live in the now' but rather, don't let fear of what has happened in the past stop you from making a difference in the future. Yes, war is loss and suffering, but if you get paralyzed by not being able to prevent that, the fire nation will just keep marching across the world. It's about not letting the past immobilize you to the point where you stop fighting back against oppression - or getting together with a community to help you fight for fear they'll die just like those in the past did.

17.5) Letting go of the past is a buddhist philosophy that is a lot more complicated than Jessie is making it out to be here. Just as in the animated series, characters can come to realizations about lessons they need to learn while still taking seasons to fully learn the lesson - just because Aang said he's ready to let go of the past doesn't mean he's now ignoring it and all will be smooth sailing. It means he's ready to start taking steps to do that and approach life in a healthier way. It's wild that Jessie took the direct quote "I need to let go of the past to focus on my future" and then states that the show is saying "the character's aren't seeing future possibilities and hope, they're focused on the now" when, quite literally, the quote she just referenced….is talking about building a better future.

18) Then, she references later seasons (Aang in the fire nation school) a lot to indicate that the live-action is ignoring those concepts from the OG when….we're talking about season 1 here - not season 3. Why is the world not allowed to organically grow? Why would you make the argument that 'season 1 didn’t explicitly deal with these concepts that aren't brought up until season 3, so therefore they are ignoring them'?

19) Jessie uses a lot of clips from a Daily Wire (conservative talkshow) guy as if that has anything at all to do with the live-action ATLA. She's trying to draw a line between that ideology and the ideology of the show and I feel like she had to bastardize the NATLA show in order to do that so horribly, her interpretation of the story and themes is completely unrecognizable to what is actually shown on screen.

I usually agree with her takes on media, but this video was not it. Every interpretation she had, I interpreted the scenes/lessons in the exact opposite way and, I believe, I interpreted it closer to what the showrunners intended.

Oh no, i just had a thought: this is The Last Jedi all over again! I saw so many negative interpretations of that movie that I just sat and scratched my head over like "How in the WORLD did you get to that conclusion??" when I thought my own interpretation was just...the obvious way to view the movie. I had no idea my views on it would be so controversial. Here we are again. Time is a flat circle. Life is a meaningless cycle of disappointment and confusion, neverending.

[saneijeijei]

Academy of Sword and Magiс

[1\?]

Penelope and Callisto's relationship begins six months before the young woman's debut. Eckhart is in love with the Crown Prince and believes that her feelings are mutual. They meet secretly, knowing that neither the duke nor the emperor will support their relationship due to political tension inside the capital. They do not show their feelings and what they know in public, for fear of being revealed.

But after Yvonne returns, everything changes. Callisto rejects Penelope and laughs if she talks about their relationship, saying that she allegedly made them up. Heartbroken Penelope barely remembers how the debut is going, how the terrible thing happens - the poisoning of Yvonne.

The whole family blames her for this, not wanting to listen to any excuses and evidence. Left completely alone under a house ban in her room, the young woman did not know what to do when an angry Callisto came to her, wanting to avenge his new lover.

Penelope, miraculously manages to survive this meeting and escape.

Thanks to the low-ranking magic she learned, after the events of the hunting competitions, she was able to leave the capital and go to the most remote part of the empire, where she wanted to settle down and start living again, hoping that the duchy, like the Crown Prince, would not search for her anymore. They enjoying happy life with the real daughter of the Eckhart family.

But she didn't know at all how she could make money here. The jewelry and the torn dress that she was wearing, she sold for good money on the first day. But money tended to run out, and it was a bad idea to think about work when they were completely gone. Climbing into her small travel bag, Penelope found a fragment of a Mirror.

"What a useless garbage," she snorted and wanted to throw it into the swamp, as the shard began to shine brightly in her hands, showing her and the fact that she put the shard of the mirror back in the bag and went somewhere. "What the hell?"

Thinking about it, she decided not to throw it away and watch. Maybe the thing wasn't as useless as she thought it was. In the evening of the same day, after a hearty snack and going into the room she rented in a tavern, she took out a fragment and tried to make it show at least something other than a reflection again. But nothing worked. Giving up, she muttered: "Maybe I was dreaming.."

The shard shone again. Penelope looked there and saw herself creating something out of boards and fabric. Finally, she understood how it worked and figured out how to make money.

"Wizards? You mean the charlatans?" the owner of the tavern was perplexed with the guest's question. "If you need useless freeloaders, then they live on the outskirts of the city, towards Aunt Dor's farm. One of them also has such a strange sign.. With a cat? Or something similar to it."

Thanking for the information, Penelope went to the local wizard. The middle-aged man was immensely pleased with her until he realized that she was rather not his client, but just a random passerby who was unlikely to give money.

"I need a room. For divination, I see the future of people and can help them find out the truth." Penelope explained.

"A fortune teller? I hardly believe it, but if you pay rent, I will be glad to consider you a fortune teller" the man happily rubbed his hands, hoping for a promising income in his pocket from another "charlatan".

What was his surprise when the number of customers in a small fortune-teller's room became more and more every month. At first, the young woman did not charge her clients who were residents of a small town. Satisfied and especially impressionable, they told their visit to Penelope to their neighbors, and those to other neighbors from the neighboring village, spreading the story further and further.

In addition to ordinary citizens, aristocrats began to visit it, although not of the upper class, but still. From earls to viscounts. Fearing that she might be recognized, Penelope decided to furnish the room with an entourage and wear a suit that hides her eyes and hair. In it, she looked like a mystical fortune teller whose gaze is hidden from the visitor.

The fee for services grew, Penelope paid the wizard money for rent and assistance in servicing clients. A simple room has turned into a real mystical corner with incense and magical objects, one view showing that a real member of the magical world works here.

But in addition to the man, a nanny settled in the house, who looked after little Judith, who required a lot of attention and time, which Penelope did not have because of constant work and a desire to feed and provide a comfortable future.

Until one day, a strange old man comes to her for a foresighted session, asking her to tell about him and his past. Of course, she had similar clients who, due to illness, forgot where they lived or something important that they needed to remember and she did not charge them, letting them go with a pure soul to their loved ones.

But this old man was definitely not that kind of person. His past was filled with horror and death. A shard of a mirror reflecting fragments of the past into a glass ball chilled the blood in her veins. The old man, with a certain weariness and sadness in his eyes, watched his past.

"Let the Mirror show what will happen when I leave the city," he asked. "How do you know--?.." asked Penelope, frightened. "I know a lot of things, child. And I know that very soon the knight's guard will arrive here and take you to the capital. Aren't you, as one of the last representatives of the ancient magicians, afraid to be on your knees again in court for something you didn't do?" "Wh-what?.." "Ask the Mirror to show you if you think I'm lying, child. My name is Uwe, I am an elder from a small town where ancient magicians and ordinary magicians who were expelled from their lands live. I've heard a lot about your abilities and I see that you can use a fragment of an ancient magical artifact - the Mirror of Truth. This is amazing and truly an innate talent that not everyone can possess. I've come to help you. There aren't many like you and me left, but there is a place where you and your daughter will be safe. I can offer my protection and help so that you can live in peace without hiding behind all this masquerade. But we don't have much time and we need to decide right now."

Penelope looked at the flashing Mirror of Truth and clenched her hands into a fist nodded to the man. She needed to escape anyway if the imperial knights were already heading here. There's no reason for her to stay in this city. And Judith, too.

Seven years later, the empire makes a truce with the ancient magicians after a fierce struggle against Leila. In order to consolidate the alliance, the emperor and the elders sign a trade agreement on the purchase and sale, as well as participation in the cutting of precious stones for magical weapons. The Empire also creates conditions for magicians so that they can receive education and not be infringed on their rights.

In order to strengthen the established relations, an academy is being built on the territory of the empire, where both people and wizards will study in the same building in order to create a new generation that will rely on each other. Duke Eckhart's (Derrick) adopted daughter, 7-year-old Nora, and other children from aristocratic families become one of the elementary school students. Nora was a reserved but very kind child who was bullied despite the authority of her family.

The girl was taken from a shelter sponsored by the Eckhart family. Nora, who had lost her parents and was left completely alone, appreciated the duchy for sheltering her and giving her the opportunity to get an education that her own father could not have dreamed of. She was a timid and kind girl who knew that if she rebuffed her abusers, she could be worse off because of it, and not them at all. She kept silent about it and endured, pretending that she was not upset at all by the words of her peers.

Fortunately, by the beginning of the year, her roommate did not come because of family problems, so the first months of study the whole room was in her harness and no one could tell classmates how she cried, remembering all the hurtful things that other children did to her.

On one of the everyday school days, the girls called her behind the building to talk about her being too smart during math lessons. But as soon as the main offender managed to open her mouth, dirty water poured on top of her, which was used to wash the floor in the classroom. Offended girls screamed promising to take revenge on prankster until she saw who did it.

"You shouted too loudly, it prevented me from calmly preparing for the lesson," said a golden-haired girl looking out of the window with a bucket in her hands. "Oh, I'm sorry, Judith!..We're leaving!" classmates immediately ran away with a bully, apparently not wanting to get involved with a stranger.

Nora wanted to thank the savior, but Judith quickly lost interest and went back to class closing the window without saying anything. Eckhart spent the rest of the day in peace and quiet. Tired of the amount of knowledge she had gained, Nora went into her room and realized with horror that the same girl was sitting on the next bed.

"Hi, I'm Judith and I'm your roommate."

[patchworkorphan]

Heroic Betrayal - Part five

Read part one here

Continued from this part here

*~*~*~*~*

What kind of idiot were they to be stuck here? Hero should have told Sidekick when they got the tip about Villain… they should have told them that they were going to rough Villain up a bit, get the information they needed on Other Villain’s whereabouts and beat the shit out of them. Just a little revenge for touching a hair on Sidekick’s innocent head.

Even if they managed to catch Villain and mete out justice on Other Villain, they would have beaten the ever-living shit out of the wrong person, and that was something Hero didn’t want to think about in that moment.

That Flynn…

Their Flynn was the one who put Sidekick in the med bay.

Sidekick, who was still in the med bay, where Hero should be, but no. Instead, they were here, powerless and bleeding and it was all their fault.

Hero didn’t know how long they sat and stewed on that thought. Long enough that their nose stopped bleeding anyway. Hero tentatively reached up to their upper lip, their hand came away from it dry, the blood caked and flaked onto their face now.

“What happened to your face?” Hero angled their head down from where they stared at the ceiling to see Flynn standing on the other side of the cell bars.

“Fuck off, Red,” Hero grumbled, and fought the wince at their casual nickname for Flynn slipping out of their lips. “I’m not in the mood.”

A jangle of keys and the cell door was open, footsteps approaching Hero in their cot in the corner. Hero’s heart ached with every beat as Flynn came into their line of sight, concern drawing their features together.

How many times had they seen that same concern on his face? Told Hero it was going to be okay. Cleaned their wounds, laughed about the bruises the next day?

How much of it was a lie? — Hero wanted to ask. The question burned a hole on the tip of their tongue, but they didn’t dare speak it. They just stared up at the ceiling as best they could.

“What? You piss someone off already?”

Hero sighed. Flynn sat on the edge of the bed, moving closer to Hero hands going to inspect the damage. Hero slapped their hands away, tears burning in the back of their eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Flynn,” Hero bit out. “You don’t get to betray me and then pretend to be my friend and concerned about me.”

Flynn stared; eyes sad as he said: “okay. Guess I deserve that.”

“You deserve so much more,” Hero said, eyes burning with hatred, voice barely above a whisper. “How many of our friends died because of you? Hmm?”

“Hero, not all of it–” Flynn began then stopped, huffed out a breath of air through his nose, hand running through his hair. “Not all of it was a lie. I am your friend. I do care about you.”

“Oh really? Then you’d never use your power on me, right?” Hero demanded, echoing back Flynn’s words against him. Flynn had the audacity to even look guilty at that, and Hero leaned forwards, hands on Flynn’s as they said: “I forgive you, okay. I forgive you if you let me go. Flynn, please.”

Flynn’s eyebrows knit together, clearly conflicted but he said nothing. After a moment, Hero let out a breath of disbelief and sat back against the wall again.

“Yeah,” Hero scoffed, “we’re friends.”

“You have blood all over your face, Hero. You really want to just leave it?”

“Why the hell not?” Hero said, trying to force their tone into some form of neutrality.

Flynn sighed and stood up from the cot. “Supervillain wants an audience with you. I was sent to retrieve you.”

Hero rolled their eyes but got to their feet no less. “Of course,” they said, pushing past Flynn to the door. “God help you actually wanted to see how I was doing.”

“Hero—”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Let’s just go.”

“Hero that’s not—”

Before they could get the fourth word out, Hero had whirled on them eyes blazing hotter than any hells furnace.

“Fair?!” They asked incredulously, their voice jumping two pitches at the sheer audacity of the word on their lips. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Flynn didn’t back down this time. Instead they stepped forward, looking down their nose at Hero.

“Yes. That is what I was going to say.”

“You are unbelievable!” Hero snapped matching Flynn with a step forward of their own. They held their cuffed hands up in Flynn’s face as if to remind him exactly why Hero was there in the first place. “If you’re my friend you’ll take these off.”

“Hero you know I can’t—”

Hero didn’t let him finish. Instead they placed their palms on Flynn’s chest and shoved them as hard as they could. Flynn looked about as bothered as if a fly had flown into the room.

“I can’t uncuff you Hero,” Hero said, lowering their voice to mimic Flynn’s and shoving him back again. “I can’t let you go Hero.” And again. “I can’t fucking think—” shove “for myself” shove “Hero.”

Hero glared up at Flynn trying to fight back the frustrated tears building behind her eyes. Anger was easier to focus on in the moment rather than that vast aching pit twisting uncomfortably in their gut.

“But I promise I’m your friend, Hero,” Hero mocked, shoving him back again until Flynn’s back hit off the wall. Flynn’s eyebrows curved down and it left a pang in Hero’s chest that they hated. “And then you have the gall to look hurt. As if I betrayed you.”

Hero ignored the tears that fell at the last sentence, or at least tried to. They tried to be firm and act tough, but saying the betrayal out loud, acknowledging it when it was just the two of them was too much.

“Would you trust me if the roles were reversed?” Hero asked, not even wanting to look at Flynn for the answer. The more they saw the conflict on his face the harder it was to hate him. Flynn however, didn’t take this into consideration when he put his hand on Hero’s face and tilted it back to face him.

Hero narrowed their eyes at him, pushing every ounce of anger into their gaze hoping they would turn into actual daggers and stab him.

“No,” Flynn breathed softly, thumb wiping away the tear streaks from Hero’s face. “I wouldn’t trust you if the roles were reversed, but I would hear you out of you tried to explain it to me.”

“And if I took you to Supervillain?!” Hero asked, their voice low and furious as they stepped out of Flynn’s touch. “The enemy we’ve been trying to stop for months?”

“You.”

“What?!” Hero demanded hotly.

Flynn’s gaze had hardened, his face devoid of all emotion now except for his usual mask of easy confidence, smirk on his lips as if he didn’t just wipe Hero’s tears away.

“The enemy you’ve been trying to stop for months,” Flynn said again taking a step forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Hero matched it with one back, cautious, hackles raised. “I mean the man you borderline obsessed over, Hero. Don’t you want to meet the genius who eluded you, the great detective, for all that time?”

“Not particularly,” Hero said through gritted teeth, with another step back that Flynn matched, getting closer and closer each time.

“That’s what you called him though, right? A genius,” Flynn teased, his grin showing his teeth. “I mean, fuck, Hero some of the moves he made you were damn right impressed with. You even said you’d have done exactly the same thing if—”

“I was in his position,” Hero cut Flynn off. Flynn’s smirk grew wider as he took another step closer, dipping his head conspiratorially.

“Now you can be,” said Flynn with a wide gesture of his hands. Hero followed his hand to the cell door that they happened to be right beside. Hero was keenly aware that Flynn was backing them towards the door the whole time. “Even just for the intellectual stimulation if nothing else.”

“Go fuck yourself, Flynn. I’m not willingly walking into the Lion’s den.”

Flynn’s eyelids fell half over his eyes. “It is less dignified to be dragged, Hero, but if you insist.”

Flynn made a grab for Hero’s arm but they dodged at the last minute, turning to shoulder Flynn out of the way. Flynn didn’t so much as budge from their spot. Instead he caught Hero by the strap of their scabbard and yanked them into Flynn’s chest.

“The hard way, wonderful. I wouldn’t expect any less of you Hero,” Flynn said, wrapping an arm over Hero's chest and keeping them close as they stepped out of the cell, pushing Hero forward with their own body weight. “Let's go introduce you to Supervillain.”

*~*~*~*~*

The Orphanage, or, the tag-list: @princess-bubble-blossom @morning-star-whump

[sizebrained]

It's So Hot, Can We Go To The Pool? Part 1

Ok, this is the very first thing I've ever shared in terms of G/t writing so be kind.

I hit Tumblr's max length every post, sorry not sorry. I retconned this from when I first wrote it to make Ben bigger than I originally thought. Muwahaha. Also Hazel's haircolor.

It's meant to be an intro that takes place in the middle when everyone's dynamics were already established.

Content Warning: Adult themes, somewhat suggestive romantic/sexual interests. Mentions of nudity, war, death, danger, terror, injury, PTSD, and panic attacks. But also fluff.

***

The condo was eerily quiet, but that suited Ben just fine. The air inside it, however, felt heavy and still. Ben could do without that on such a hot July day. The air inside was so heavy and still because the building’s air conditioning system was broken, and it was supposed to be brand new.

“Top of the line” the realtor had told him. “Top of the line” was doing absolutely nothing for him now.

The single oversized ceiling fan in the main living space helped, but not much when the air was this humid. Ben looked up at the fan whirring as fast as it could manage to try and cool the air. He guessed that if he were to jump, he could slap it to help it along.

But he figured that he would more likely just break it, given the state of the “top of the line” air conditioning. And he couldn’t jump like he used to anyway. Well actually he just wasn't sure…

He really missed moving his body like he used to before the accident. Almost half a year on crutches was awful. But his older sister, Sam, told him that he shouldn’t be pushing himself.

She insisted that he needed a few more months of physical therapy with her before he tried to pull any stunts. He figured jumping up to slap a ceiling fan counted as a stunt. Especially one that was hanging from the ceiling 10 feet up.

But standing 7'3" inches tall, it didn't seem that high to Ben. With his reach and vertical leap, Ben knew he could have probably done it a year ago. But that was before the car accident. His basketball days are over now thanks to that wreck.

The thought made him bend over and absentmindedly rub his left knee cap with a sigh. It was like he was developing some kind of nervous tick.

His long fingers took turns gently tracing his surgery scars. Even with the surgeon’s best efforts, Ben still thought he looked like they had used a lawnmower on him. It made him self-conscious about his body, which he already had enough of before adding surgery scars to the mix. His lower back, shoulders, arms, and some parts of his legs already took the brunt of his big body's rapid expansion over the years leaving stretch marks from his growth. At least the stitches from his latest procedure had dissolved and were no longer itching him.

Lost in his own train of thought, Ben had carelessly bent down at the waist to play with his scars. This made the massive college student’s whole upper body tilt forward at an angle.

“Mind what you are doing, please!!!” shouted a small voice from his left shoulder. It was said in a gentle tone, instead of annoyed as someone would expect given the result of Ben's thoughtless movement. Something about her British accent always made Ben think Mary Poppins was living with him.

The voice came from a tiny, young looking woman who was shorter than any one of Ben’s long fingers. Even his thumb was bigger than her. She was standing with the front of her body facing the profile of his face many times larger than her own.

Dangling away from his body, the tiny figure was clutching the shoulder fabric of the arm closest to her in the grip of one tiny hand. She was pulling on it hard enough so that the top of the cotton fabric actually lifted up off of his skin.

Ben was much darker compared to her own pale complexion, made even lighter by so many years indoors. And she stood just over 3 and a half inches tall making Ben 30 times her height.

She shifted her position and braced her feet flat against the front of the massive human’s collarbone. A long tail swished back and forth vigorously behind her, helping her steady and balance.

One hand came to rest on her hip as if to emphasize her point. She looked like she was purposefully striking a pose. It was as if she was a great pirate captain measuring the wind speed for a ship sailing across the open ocean.

But instead of such a majestic scene, the reality was far less adventurous. They were both simply waiting together for Ben’s sister and Hazel’s sibling, named Cob, to return from the store. Hazel had been perched on the top of Ben's one shoulder and rather than climb to his back, she decided to hang on till he was upright agian. The plan was for all of them to try to go to the nearly empty, and supposedly luxury, building’s pool. Ben and his passenger were a terribly sweaty and annoyed mess.

Ben still hadn’t adjusted to moving differently when he she was on him, and he worried that he may never at this rate. It put more effort onto her to compensate for his lack of continued awareness, but she didn’t seem to mind.

She relished the chance to have a human to climb on again after Mary and Jack’s passing, and Ben was like the Mount Everest of humans. She enjoyed the challenge.

Given how nimble she was, there was never a real risk of her falling from her perch. Instead, she was more concerned with his obsession over his body.

It was true that the tiny woman was very annoyed today, and her tail swished in a way that looked it. But she was not annoyed at Ben, almost never at Ben. It was becoming harder to ignore or admit, but he was occupying more space for her and not just in a physical sense. It was the heat. It was never hot like this back home. And even though she’d lived in America for most of her life now, she always considered England her real home. And it never got hot like this there.

From her spot dangling on Ben’s left shoulder, she took a look again at his knee, way, way down. Scars were nothing new for her. She’d seen far worse after four years in a war hospital during what would eventually be called World War II. But Ben had kept it wrapped in bandages at her suggestion to keep himself from itching and scratching at the sutures.

She was amazed to learn they’d invented stitches that would dissolve. She wished they had those back when she was nursing. Having to remove them once a wound had healed was novel for Hazel, at first. But by the end of the war, she reckoned that she had cut through and removed hundreds of yards of stitching from humans. She could always do it far quicker than Mary, the human nurse and her companion, ever could. It was a skill that gave her a sense of pride. That she could do so little else at her size in such a place made her relish some superior skill.

Mary, ever stoic, simply reminded the tiny woman with a tail that the stitches were a lot bigger and easier compared to her. So she shouldn’t get too big of a head over it. Still the human nurse was glad for all the help she could get on her shifts in the war hospital, no matter how small the help may be.

Seeing Ben’s healed scars now in the open, she was interested by how different the angles of the incisions were compared to what they would have back then. Although if pilots like Mary's husband, Jack, had suffered injuries like Ben -- they would have had just amputated.

She was surprised that she hadn’t noticed it before, but then again he had kept them covered. Plus, Ben’s size had the habit of sometimes making her freeze up and miss minor details.

That he had such an effect on her was the only thing that did annoy her about the enormous human. She knew he would never hurt her. Generations of her kind had ingrained in instinct into her, she felt a constant warning that Ben was too big and must be a threat.

The hours Ben spent during their first meeting proved the opposite, despite his size. He could also be incredibly delicate. It took so long getting her unstuck from that glue trap and he was so flustered and gentlemanly about it.

He made joke after joke about the situation to make both of them feel better. And he was more embarrassed by having to, ultimately, cut off some of her clothes with a pair of scissors than she had been.

Nudity, at least her own, never really phased her. That it so flustered him to see her in a state of nature was all the evidence she ever needed to trust him. Although as her feelings about him changed that started to as well.

But still, he was just so…big. It was like the word was invented with Ben in mind. Her natural impulses to flee had certainly gotten better with more time and exposure to him. But he was still so utterly gigantic even when compared to any humans she’d previously encountered in her life. And he was so fast, it reminded Hazel of herself.

The Professor always hobbled around with a cane, and Mary wasn’t the most graceful human she’d seen. Mary’s husband, Jack, who was an American pilot during the war, also moved around rather slowly and deliberately having lost both a leg and his eyesight during the war. She still marveled at how Ben could move like that being so enormous, even when he had been on crutches for most of the past several months with his injury.

“Oh Hazel! Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry…” Ben blinked furiously out of his own thoughts. Replying quickly and sheepishly, he gave up on touching his reconstructed knee and stood back upright.

This pleased the little, tailed woman named Hazel, but she found herself on the backfoot again when Ben brought one huge up to his left shoulder as if to catch her. He opened his hand to extend his fingers, straightening them out.

The span of each of his hands from the thumb to the pinky was four times Hazel’s size. His hand got measured once to potentially be drafted to the NBA. He thought it was weird to get measured like he was a farm animal.

Hazel didn't care about his exact dimensions. Just that, however many inches the hand was, it was large enough to block her whole view.

Hazel’s sharp featured face fell under the shadow of his hand as Ben made a literal wall for the small woman, more as reassurance for himself. She wasn’t going to fall, and she especially wasn’t going to fall now that he had stood up straight again leveling out his shoulder. She resumed her former position on top of it.

It had been decades since she had lost her footing, and even then it wasn’t her fault. Hazel sighed as she waited for Ben to figure out for himself why she would find his well meaning gesture bothersome.

She could have just told him, but she took her old Professor’s old approach of a Socratic method, favoring questions over providing answers as a form of instruction.

She took the time to remember the last time she had fallen. A bomb the size of a normal human, not Ben, went through the roof and several upper floors of the makeshift hospital’s building. Then it exploded. It was the loudest thing she had ever heard. Her ears rang for hours afterwards.

Lately as he started acting more like what she imagined his old self was like before the accident, she thought Ben was getting close to being the second loudest thing she’d ever heard. Even his whispered apology just now was enough to make his voice rumble through the whole of her body. It was especially noticeable when she was this close to his throat.

Every time the giant human spoke while she was this close, it sent vibrations up through the soles of her feet into her whole body. No human she’d encountered, not even Mary’s husband, had quite the same effect. Hazel always noticed the absence of it when talking with other humans or her family. Now that she was used to it, she found she would yearn for the sensation.

For a human, Ben was just so…so much. It was concerning at times. All humans were large but something about Ben’s enormous size was especially noticeable today. Conceptually, she understood what being over 7 feet tall meant. But for all intents and purposes, he might as well have told her he was 100 feet tall like the old oak trees on the Professor’s country estate.

Sometimes Hazel felt like she was a human who had been accustomed to riding horses their entire life, to all of a sudden find their preferred stead was replaced with an elephant.

Hazel had only seen an elephant once when Mary had taken her to a circus in the late 1950’s. It was the biggest creature she had ever seen. Ben was the second biggest, followed by his absent sister. That Ben’s sister had still not returned with Hazel’s own sibling, who had accompanied the human shopping, also annoyed Hazel right now.

Maybe it was just the heat making her snippy. She was annoyed at herself, that her inconvenience overtook her patience. She couldn’t stand to wait in front of his mammoth hand any longer.

“It’s fine. It’s fine. Just be more mindful please. Remember, you have a passenger. And I appreciate the gesture but it’s truly unnecessary…” She chastised him tenderly.

To Ben, even when she looked mad or annoyed she never sounded like it. He loved her accent, except that it made her sound older than she looked. Hazel reached out casually and patted the closest spot of his palm a few times in reassurance. Ben could just barely feel it. Hazel’s own outstretched hand wouldn’t even cover one of his fingernails. The boy was just so…big.

Ben lowered his own hand, closing his fingers inwards towards his palm tightening them so his knuckles cracked. Another tick of his. Hazel hated when he did that.

Hazel let go of his shirt and took a few steps back towards the center of his shoulder again. She wiped her brow feeling as if her body was making its own pool while they waited. Even the bandana she used to contain her long curly hair, and keep it out of her face, was soaked through. It was also exceptionally frizzy in this heat and humidity. The state of her hair also annoyed her.

Hazel pulled off her bandana causing her hair to nearly stand on end when it was released. Ben thought it made her look like a dandelion about to blow away if there was a breeze. But he dared not share that thought with her and risk annoying her further.

Now on the top of Ben’s once again flat shoulder, she pulled up the sliver of fabric that rested across his powerful tendon to pat her face dry.

“Pardon me.” Hazel said while Ben watched in silent amusement. It was nice to see her be less formal than he was used to her being. The heat must really be getting to her.

Hazel wrung out her bandana several times with her strong hands, the droplets barely registering as they fell onto Ben’s enormous shirt. She shook it out a few times, before rewrapping it around her head with a loud, haughty huff. It was still damp. The annoyances seemed to never end for her today.

“It is just that…I cannot see a thing when you do that you know?” She said with a slight upturn of her chin to peer at the side of his face.

“Have they returned yet?” she asked while trying to stand on her tiptoes to look out the window for herself as if she wasn’t already high enough.

“Nope. Not that I can see…” Ben said slowly.

Ben took a turn peering down through the window. The kitchen’s large single pane of glass over the sink gave him a clear view of most of the building’s parking lot. He realized that the motion made him start to lean again and he raised his hand again instinctively.

But he caught himself and lowered it quickly before he was verbally slapped by Hazel, if you could even call her admonitions something that harsh. Hazel saw him correct himself and nodded ever so slightly in silent approval.

Sam almost always parked in one of the handicap spots when she took Ben’s car. The novelty of getting to park so close to entrances spoke to her lazy core. It was quite a source of contention between them with Ben rightfully worried about someone who may actually need to use a handicap spot.

Sam promised that she would only park in a handicap space when there was an abundance of them, but that wasn’t enough for Ben. Hazel thought they could bicker over it for some time and it seemed like Sam did it on purpose.

The last time they fought over it, Hazel turned out to be correct. She was doing it on purpose in the hopes of forcing him to drive himself finally. Sam finally snapped at her little brother that if he was so concerned about her doing it, then he needed to start driving again so she couldn’t do it.

It was Sam’s unsubtle way of trying to force him to get back into a car again. But Ben had refused to even get into a car ever since his accident. Even the elevator made him jumpy now. Despite being on crutches for several months, he would still painstakingly hop up the stairs with the crutches tucked under an arm rather than feel trapped in a metal box again.

There was an entire row of more than a dozen handicap spots right in the front of Ben’s new luxury condo building. Sam usually left it parked in one of them, hoping to lure her brother into it again somehow.

As far as Ben knew, there was only one occupant who needed it because of her wheelchair. She was a rather nice woman in her late 30’s who lived four levels below him. Ben thinks her name was Susan...maybe. He was terrible with names but always remembered faces. His sister was the same, but just called everyone “Babe” to as a workaround, even with him.

Ben saw that his neighbor, maybe Susan, had parked in her preferred handicap spot right next to the ramp into the building. The rest were empty, meaning Ben’s sister and Hazel’s sibling Cob had yet to return.

“Is the store not just two of your blocks away from here? Could they not have just walked?” Hazel asked annoyed.

She still wasn't used to how quick a walk somewhere could be when she hitched a ride on Ben and guessed his older sister was nearly as fast. Sam wasn’t as big as Ben, but she wasn’t that much smaller.

Ben turned his head to look at Hazel perched on the wide expanse of his left shoulder. He could just make her out in his peripheral vision. If he took a second to really focus he could even make out her little features.

He was amazed by how strikingly beautiful she looked. Few of the human teachers that he had seemed like they could rival her knowledge looked like her. Although he guessed Hazel had a bit of an unfair advantage being over a hundred years old. She'd probably kill at trivia...except for any sports categories. But if she was on the same team as Sam, they'd be unstoppable.

Right now, Ben thought she looked annoyed. And sweaty. But he was too. Ben pinched the front of his tank top between two fingers and pulled it away from his body. He then did it again over and over so it started to flap. The flapping wafted cooler air up and down his body. When the air hit Hazel like a light breeze she smiled in grateful relief.

Ben felt a sense of accomplishment over the change in her face. He would leap on any chance he could get to make her more comfortable with him. Hopefully, this helped make up for his hand mistake earlier.

Ben pulled out his phone from the pocket in his shorts with his other hand to check his texts. He saw no missed calls or texts from his sister and only his several unanswered ones left. She always left him on “read.” Each text asked what was taking so long with increasing impatience.

“She probably ran into someone from work or they’re still out joyriding. You know Cob never turns down the chance to ride in a…”

Ben was about to say car, when he was interrupted by the familiar sound of his own pulling in faster than it should into the parking lot. Thankfully, the parking lot was almost always empty.

Out of the 50 plus units in the building, less than 10 had been bought so far leaving the rest of the building unoccupied. It meant there was lots of space in the parking lot, which Sam fully intended to really explore.

Ben and Hazel watched as Sam curved left then right, finally turning in a tight circle several times that left tire marks on the asphalt. Relieved from Ben’s shirt breeze, it was Hazel turn to see Ben be the one who looked annoyed for a change.

The car finally parked in one of the many handicap spots causing Ben to grumble in disapproval and shake Hazel’s whole body so much that her teeth chattered. Sam emerged then walked to open back of the car and pick up several large shopping bags in both hands.

“Oh that’s why…they went fucking shopping. Again. She was just there yesterday what could she possibly need now.” Ben said, agitated, still flapping his shirt for Hazel. In fact, he sped up the motion a bit making the artificial breeze sway Hazel’s clothes and hair.

Even from the 10th floor, Ben could tell Sam was wearing a bathing suit now. But she had left in shorts and a t-shirt. She was also wearing a wide brimmed straw hat like she was going to the beach. Hazel saw them now as well, but she could not tell where Cob was holding onto Sam. She guessed maybe the hat?

“Language!” Hazel said, lifting her leg to stomp a foot down on his shoulder in protest. Hazel thought she may never get used to the casual swearing of this generation of humans.

Ben only made another grumbling noise in acknowledgement, shaking her whole body up to the teeth again. He wondered how much of a bill she had run up on his credit card. Not that it mattered after the settlement, probably, but like the handicap parking it was the principle of it. Sam seemed to find excuses to buy all kinds of junk when it was his money.

Ben turned his body slowly away from the window and stopped flapping his shirt. The shirt breeze was replaced by the rustle of wind sweeping past his should as as he took long barefoot strides across the condo.

“Do you think they still want to go to the pool? That took longer than I thought it would.” Hazel asked him while peering over her shoulder at a clock on the wall in the kitchen.

She steadied herself, bending her knees slightly and swaying along with Ben as he walked. Her tail resumed swishing again, helping her keep her balance while he moved.

“Yea but would you and Cob really want to go down to the pool again?” Ben asked concern, sneaking a glance at her on his shoulder.

“I don’t love the idea of you just floating in a body of water that big or sitting on the ledge. One of those birds could get you.” Ben said ominously.

He walked over to his front door. On the wall next to it was a large monitor and several buttons. He pressed one button to buzz his sister into the building. She had his key and he didn’t need to do it, but pressing the button activated a camera that filled up the wall monitor with a view of the lobby.

Ben and Hazel saw her bounding up the flight of stairs in the lobby two at a time towards the elevators. She looked like the Grinch stealing Whoville’s Christmas presents in the night. 

“I could just get a big bowl and put some ice cubes in there for the two of you while Sam and I go down.” Ben offered thinking out loud.

Hazel’s annoyed expression returned. The idea of floating in one of his large, used popcorn bowls was more unappealing than continuing to sweat in the condo. Cob would probably love it though.

Ben unlocked the door while he spoke. Then he took a few steps back to rest his butt on the wide back of the sectional couch. The sectional took up most of the living room. He bought the biggest one they made so that Ben could lay on it fully outstretched wherever he wanted.

The movers who delivered it were expecting a place with lots of people or kids. Instead, they were shocked to see just one giant person on crutches who had to bend down so that he could see them under the top of the door frame. Ben couldn’t wait for them to finish and go. One of them was a big fan.

One half of the couch faced the tv while the other faced a wall of windows and the wide balcony after that. Ben crossed his arms over his chest, waiting on the back of the couch and facing the front door with the balcony behind him. He was trying to look as annoyed as he could muster. Hazel missed the breeze from his shirt. She hoped he may resume flapping his shirt to make it return.

“Thank you, but no I do not think I will be going popcorn swimming today. Do you not think that one of those large bags your sister is hauling up here contains some ingenious item that will allow Cob and I to fully enjoy the pool with the two of you.” Hazel asked with a sarcastic emphasis on “ingenious.”

Like the popcorn bowl idea she knew they often meant well. But Ben and Sam could often do or suggest things that were demeaning and patronizing for someone her age. It didn’t seem to bother Cob as much. Hopefully their tagging along and input helped Sam buy something that stood a chance of being useful.

If it wasn’t for Sam’s shopping trips, Ben’s new space would likely still be as empty and filled with echoes as when he first moved in. While Ben was annoyed by her spending, Hazel appreciated the clutter from Sam’s trips. Hazel loathes nothing more than clean, wide open spaces with nowhere to hide and no human objects to use for improvisation.

***

End Pt 1

[bpsmuts]

After Dark - Jennie

Jennie x Male Reader

Words: 895

Summary: Your girlfriend and you decide to have some fun after a night out

After an adventurous night out with your girlfriend, you both arrive at her apartment. Jennie opens the door and you take her jacket while she walks into the kitchen to fix herself another drink.

After hanging up both jackets, you make your way to the kitchen and hug her from behind, leaving kisses on her neck as she replies with a slight moan.

"I think I'm ready for bed" You say to Jennie whilst still hugging her from behind. "Aww, come on Y/N" Jennie pouts as she turns around and pecks your lips.

She places her hands on your chest and kisses you again, this time deepening the kiss and getting closer to you. "I can feel that you still have some energy in you" Jennie mutters with her lips still pressed against yours.

Her hand slowly glides over your stomach towards your crotch, feeling the bulge that you've developed. Jennie breaks the kiss and looks at you with a big smile "Let's have some fun baby!".

Now being turned on as well, you pick up your girlfriend and walk into the living room, where you sit down with her on your lap and start to kiss her more roughly.

Your hands start to explore her body, moving from her hips up towards cupping her breasts, resulting in a moan from Jennie. You break the kiss in order for her to take off her shirt and bra, leaving her upper body exposed for your viewing pleasure.

"Like what you see?" Jennie asks you while smiling, before kissing you again. This time, you start to circle around her nipples, making your girlfriend moan once again.

You break the kiss, but continue to kiss her neck, making your way down towards her breasts. "Ahh Y/N" is all that Jennie can say as you begin to suck on her left nipple.

Jennie starts to grind on your crotch as you continue to cup her other breast with your left hand.

You stop sucking and make your way back towards her lips, moving your hand towards her core. "Okay, my turn!" Jennie says before you can even reach her pants.

She gets up from your lap and undoes your pants, while you take off your shirt. She then takes off her own pants, leaving both of you fully naked.

She ogles at your body for a moment, before kneeling in front of you. She started by stroking your length slowly as she looked into your eyes.

"God, you're hot Jen" is all that you could get out, as she started to take your tip into her mouth. Of all the girlfriends you've ever had, Jennie was by far the best one at giving blowjobs.

Jennie continued to suck your dick, as she moved her own hands towards her core to pleasure herself.

It didn't take long for her to be so worked up, that she begged you to fuck her. "What's the magic word?" You teased her. "Please. Please fuck me Y/N. I need you inside me" Jennie begged you.

You oblige and stand up "You want to take it into the bedroom?" you ask Jennie, who immediately got up and swiftly walked into her bedroom, pulling you behind her.

Entering the bedroom, you throw Jennie onto her bed and climb on top of her, kissing her lips. "Y/N, please!" Jennie mutters.

You move your head towards her folds, teasing her clit with your tongue. "Oh.. Oh God" Jennie whimpers softly. After teasing her clit, you finally slide your dick into her wet cunt.

Jennie lifts her hips as you push your length all the way into her. Grabbing the sheets and closing her eyes, Jennie lets out soft and cute moans.

You start to kiss her as you pick up the speed, silencing her moans. Her soft lips are too addicting to not kiss and so you continue licking and kissing her lips, letting the "Oh's" and "Ah's" escape from her.

She wraps her arms around you as you continue to hump her, causing Jennie to give of whines of pleasure. You know there's nothing in the world that she likes more than having sex with you, so once her lips part while moaning, you use the opportunity to invade her mouth with your tongue.

While your thrusts seem aimless, you still manage to hit the right spots and soon enough you can feel Jennie's walls closing around you.

"Ahh Y/N.. I'm getting close.. Please.." Jennie yells. You keep up the pace and start to suck on her nipples again. "Almost there, Please.. Baby.."

Jennie shrieks loudly, as she reaches her climax and her walls contract even further around your cock. Hearing the pleasure in her voice, you feel yourself getting closer to your high as well.

Not wanting to impregnate your girlfriend, you pull out of her and jerk off until you reach your orgasm. Jennie continues to pleasure herself, drawing circles around her clit and extending her orgasm.

Seeing each other get off, results in you shooting your cum right on her midriff and hitting her tits slightly. Panting heavily, you collapse next to her.

"That was amazing" you say to Jennie under heavy breaths.

"See, good thing you didn't go to bed right away" she replies with a cheeky smile. "Round 2 tomorrow?".

"Definitely!" You reply, still out of breath.

[caroldantops]

heat lightning

ship: monica rambeau x reader

summary/request:  monica deals with having to see carol again. you help distract her. (inspired by this ask, but is much softer than expected)

word count: 858

warnings: smut (18+ only), fluff and a tiny hint of angst from monica, vaginal fingering (reader receiving), lil bit of marking kink

please do not mark with community label - warnings are listed above and smut is under the cut.

masterlist | ao3 link

“I just don’t understand why she’s acting like she did nothing wrong.” Monica slams the fridge shut. You flinch at the sudden noise, and she gives you an apologetic look. She’s been like this since she got home. Since she saw Carol again for the first time in who knows how many years. “Like, I get it. Duty calls. The universe needs a hero. But you’re telling me she can show up to fight Thanos, but making a trip to visit us when mom was…Sorry. I know you’re tired of hearing it.”

“Monica,” you reach out for her from your spot sitting on the counter. She moves to stand between your legs, wrapping her arms around your waist. You’re only wearing underwear and one of her S.W.O.R.D. t-shirts, so it’s easy for her to rub circles into your sides with her thumbs, a soothing motion that’s almost second nature to her. “You know I’m here for you for anything, right?”

“Of course. Of course, I know that.”

“And that includes listening to you vent about Carol for the umpteenth time. But…” Monica sighs, knowing what’s coming. Fury’s already lectured her on being civil. “You two are linked whether you like it or not, now. So, until we figure out what the hell is going on, you’re gonna have to play nice.”

“I know, babe. I’m not gonna drag it out.”

“I didn’t think you would, but I just have to say it. Look on the bright side, maybe you’ll have a wonderfully teary reconciliation.”

Monica rolls her eyes, shoving your shoulder a bit as she steps out of your arms. She seems at least a little more at ease now - or at the very least not slamming things anymore. You follow her like a lost puppy as she moves into the living room to the couch. She raises an eyebrow at you as you wait for her to sit down before you straddle her lap, plopping yourself down on her plush thighs.

“Can I help you?”

“What? Can’t I innocently sit in my girlfriend's lap?”

“Knowing you, no.”

“I just thought that you might want a nice distraction,” you mumble, dipping your head to press your lips against Monica’s jaw. She sighs, hands coming up to glide up your bare thighs. You kiss your way up to her lips and whisper against them. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” she whispers back, capturing her lips with her own. You groan against her mouth as she deepens the kiss, tongue swiping into your mouth. Monica allows you to have the upper hand for a few minutes, moaning as you suck on her tongue and nibble at her bottom lips. All of that control quickly leaves as soon as her hand cups you over your underwear, smiling into the kiss as she plays with the damp material. “Wet for me already?”

You manage to nod as she rubs up and down along your slit, admiring how quickly you start soaking through the fabric. “More…”

“Someone’s greedy.”

Before you can react, Monica maneuvers so that you’re pinned against the couch, staring up at her. She tugs down your underwear and pulls your shirt up over your tits, leaving open mouthed kisses in her wake before latching onto one of your nipples. You yelp as she bites down, tugging in a way that makes your back arch. Suddenly, she’s pushing two fingers inside of you, curling them just right so you jerk your hips against her.

Monica’s quieter than usual today, not praising you through each thrust like she normally would. She’s instead hyper focused on leaving bruises and bite marks all over your chest and stomach, marking you as her own. She grinds herself against your thigh as she works you up, flustered moans lost against your skin. At some point the heat from your bodies moving together is too much for her to stay clothed, so she pauses to tug off her clothes and finally pulls your shirt over your head and tosses them on the floor.

It doesn’t take much time for her to squeeze a third, and then fourth, finger into you, pausing only to admire the way that you’re soaking her hand with each push and pull of her digits inside of you.

Your climax comes slowly, instead of crashing waves it creeps up and fades gently like the tide against sand. Monica stops leaving bruises over your body so she can kiss you again, sighing as she cums against your thigh from the sight of you falling apart and clenching around her fingers.

You both pant into each others’ mouths as she slumps against you, body melting against yours. You rub her back, tracing shapes along her skin. Monica is so quiet that you almost think that she’s fallen asleep, but her lips kissing your neck tell you otherwise.

“Thanks,” she mumbles against you.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Being good to me.”

“Any time,” you smile, kissing her temple. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Great. You order food, I’ll pick a show to watch?”

“Fine, but no sitcoms.”

“I know, I know.”

[talk-danmei-to-me]

Hellooooo! For Danfic club (try and pry that name out of my cold dead hands!) I'd like to request...you can pick either...or both lol

1- Hualian AU, canon divergent, feat. 'The young soldier' Hua Cheng fucking the aphrodisiac's effect out of Xie Lian. Clumsy but rough sex please! Bottomlian!

2- Wangxian, canon divergent. Madam Lan lives and how it changes Lan Wangji as a person. Set in cloud recesses study arc. Maybe wangxian happen during the lectures? I want Madam Lan to be an amazing mom as well as someone who teases tf outta wangxian whenever she notices them making eyes at each other not knowing its a crush. She's their much needed braincell. Smut happening preferred, bottomxian please!

I am a massive fan of sex pollen, so I went with option 1... apologies I did tamper with the prompt a little to age up Hua Cheng. He's in his Wu Ming era rather than Hong Hong-er. Also any excuse to sneak in a bit of creep Jun Wu. Thanks for the prompt and enjoy!

...

'Abstinence is a waste of your time now, don't you think?'

The question haunted Xie Lian as his body succumbed to the effects of the pink hazy smoke White No-Face had blown into his lungs before he vanished. His body burned and his cock ached with unfulfilled need. Xie Lian panted beneath his mask, his breath hot and damp against his skin. Somehow, though his cultivation path demanded abstinence, it wasn't the first time he'd felt such an all consuming lust. His heart sank as he realised he'd been infected with Land of the Tender again.

Last time, his robes had been made of the purest silks. Now, they were rough fabric that caused delicious friction against his sensitive body every time he moved.

Xie Lian fumbled with the ties of his robe until he was able to tear them from his shoulders, they pooled on the ground. The cool air did nothing to soothe the heat raging within his body. What had he done last time... unable to hold his body up anymore he dropped to the floor. His eyes landed on his sword, propped against the wall across from him. Last time he'd stabbed himself. This time, Xie Lian had been stabbed too many times to bear another. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

'Your Highness!' Wu Ming rushed over to join Xie Lian on the floor. His masked face followed his gaze, 'You can't stab yourself this time. I won't let you.'

If Xie Lian had his wits, he would've found Wu Ming's words strange. Yet all he truly heard was that he wouldn't have to stab himself. His body turned pliant under Wu Ming's touch as he lifted him up and placed him in a sitting position. Despite the aphrodisiac burning up Xie Lian's body, Wu Ming's fingertips felt even more scalding. He rolled a nipple beneath his thumb and electricity coursed through Xie Lian's body. His hips bucked up of their own accord and a wanton moan escaped his lips. In a move that was almost tentative, Wu Ming raked his nails across Xie Lian's chest. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Xie Lian had already abandoned so many things, what hardship would it be to abandon one more? As Wu Ming explored his upper body, Xie Lian wrapped his fingers around his leaking cock and began to stroke himself.

He only managed a couple of strokes before Wu Ming's grasp tightened around his wrist, 'Your Highness, allow me.'

Unable to resist, Xie Lian dropped his hand and allowed Wu Ming to do whatever he wanted with him. Wu Ming's touch was clumsy at first, he gripped him too tightly, stroked him too aggressively. The Land of the Tender only served to increase the pleasure. The pain adding to the overall ecstasy Xie Lian felt from Wu Ming's ministrations. The mask on his face threatened to suffocate him as his breath hitched and his heart raced. With his free hand, Wu Ming curled a finger around the edge of the mask to remove it. An obstinate move, though Xie Lian had to admit, it was more comfortable. Without the mask, air could fill his lungs with abandon. His moans felt even more satisfying.

'Tell me what you want,' Wu Ming said, his pace turning frantic as he worked Xie Lian closer and closer to his first climax of the night.

'Anything... everything... make it stop hurting,' Xie Lian forced out between frantic pants.

Wu Ming nodded, toyed with Xie Lian's nipples with one hand as the other worked him until his release splattered across his stomach.

Xie Lian's moans of relief echoed around their hideout, but his cock remained half hard. He looked up at Wu Ming in a daze, 'More,' he begged.

Wu Ming wiped up the evidence of Xie Lian's climax, capturing it between his fingers before he flipped him over. Xie Lian gasped as his cock pressed against the mud floor. His body moved of his own accord and he rolled his hips against the floor seeking the friction that would bring him relief.

Suddenly an arm wrapped around his hips pinning him in place, 'Your Highness, allow me. Do not sully yourself this way.'

Xie Lian stilled and Wu Ming eased a finger within his entrance. His body jolted from the intrusion. He whimpered as Wu Ming added another finger, stretching his body for an unknown purpose. As Wu Ming's fingers pistoned within him Xie Lian found the burning sensation melding into a desire to be filled properly.

'Inside...' he gasped, 'put it inside.'

Wu Ming stilled in his actions, the second he withdrew his fingers, Xie Lian rolled over to see him better. Cautiously, he held his legs out of the way and offered Wu Ming his hole. After a moments fumbling to release his own cock, Wu Ming lined himself up and pushed inside. He set a punishing pace, thrusting into him with abandon, giving Xie Lian no time to think before his cock hit his prostate. Xie Lian gasped and moaned as Wu Ming embraced him, his mask dug into his shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise as they moved together in perfect rhythm, chasing relief. Xie Lian would be marked with the proof of what they had done long after the aphrodisiac had left his system. Wu Ming continued to fuck him into the floor as white clouded Xie Lian's vision. He felt the effects of the aphrodisiac start to fade as he was finally sated. He felt Wu Ming's cock throbbing within him as he hurtled towards his own release and wrapped his legs around him, holding him in place.

'Your Highness,' Wu Ming gasped.

'Inside,' Xie Lian said, digging his heels into  the crook of Wu Ming's back to punctuate his sentence.

Wu Ming nodded before he recklessly thrust into him, his moans deafening beside Xie Lian's ear as he spilled himself inside.