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toyybox · 6 months ago

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Spiderwebs #35: Valentine

Masterlist

content: intimate whumper, carewhumper, some suggestive themes (No explicit content)

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Another day, another hotel. They left in the morning. Heather shook him awake at five o’clock sharp. He packed his things, despite his complaints and fatigue, and he made himself comfortable in the car. The roads blurred together. He tried to look out for signs, the name of a city or even a new state, but found none.

The new hotel was somewhat nicer. They didn’t have a free breakfast, or a minifridge, but they did have a television and a larger fridge, plus a small chandelier in the room—for whatever reason—as well as free soap samples in the bathroom. Rosehip scented. Jackie kept a few in his pocket, then collapsed onto the bed. It was much more comfortable-looking. The fabric was hazel-coloured and smelled like laundry detergent.

Heather’s mood was slightly better, or she had learned to hide her emotions more thoroughly. She did not say anything, only sat on the swivel chair and stared at the painting on the wall. It was a river scene. Probably Venice. Gondolas and lanterns glowing yellow over flat waters, with a stilted house or two in the background. The painting was real, not printed out, and Jackie could even make out the thick, textured strokes of acrylic on its surface.

Jackie sat up. “Do you like this one?”

“Which one?”

“The hotel.”

“It’s fine.” She shifted her gaze to look out the window instead. It wasn’t floor-length, like the last window, but it was long. The sky had darkened somewhat. According to the clock on the wall, it was half-past six.

“Where are we?”

“Bellevue.”

“Oh, I’ve gone to Bellevue before.” This was a lie—Jackie never had the money to travel—but he really needed something to talk about. He didn’t want to look uncultured. Anyway, he knew enough about the city. “They have a botanical garden.”

“I’m not a botanist.”

“Yeah, but we could still go there. Just visit.”

“We could.” But she said nothing else on the matter.

Jackie sighed. “What are we going to do, then?”

“Nothing. Stay here.” She finally turned her head to look at him. “Are you bored?”

“A little.”

“Read a book. Or go to sleep.”

There were two beds. That was an option, but not an appealing one. He didn’t want to sleep. He wasn’t fatigued anymore, just restless.

So he took out his book instead. He stared at the pages. He turned a few pages. He rolled over onto his back, so he could hold up the book and read that way. He rolled back onto his stomach. He sat up. He got off the bed, and read while walking in languid circles. He sat on the sofa. He sat on the floor—also carpet, also dark brown, but thicker. He stood up and leaned against the wall. He sat back down on the bed.

And then he glanced at the clock. Two minutes had passed.

“You get bored very easily,” Heather said.

He put the book down. “I’m not a gentle soul like you.”

“Well, then.” She laced her hands together. “I’m bored too.”

“Can we go to the garden, then?”

“No. It’s too risky.” She unlaced her hands. “What did you do all day, back in the basement? Other than reading and drawing.”

“I went to sleep.”

“Nothing else?”

“Sometimes I would bang my head against the wall?”

“Thanks for the suggestion.” She paused. “I could take up smoking.”

Jackie let out a mock gasp. “Heather!”

“What?” She smiled a little. “I have good lungs.”

“Yeah, but I don’t. I’ll be coughing all the time.”

“Didn’t you buy cigarettes?”

“And look where that got me. What about the T.V.?”

The television stared silently at them both, startled out of its easy background role. It wasn’t a flatscreen, but boxy ones had a wry charm of their own. How odd, that such a sleek hotel should contain such an anachronism. It was big enough to watch from the bed, at least. The remote lay beside it, blocky and black, beside a flyer with all the hotel service numbers.

“That’s a fair point.” She stood up and took the remote. The television flickered on with the push of a button. There were a few channel numbers inlaid yellow-on-blue, plus an option for movies.

“Interesting,” Heather said in a rather flat tone.

“There’s nothing else to do. We might as well, yeah?”

“What? Watch the news?”

Jackie scoffed. “No, silly. Watch a movie. Don’t tell me that biochemists don’t watch movies.”

“I watch movies.” She walked over and shoved the remote into his hands. “Of course I watch movies. I’m not some kind of recluse.”

“Oh, do you? Name one movie.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She turned off the lights, then curled up on the bed beside him. “Just hurry up and pick something.”

He clicked through the options. Nothing very interesting. Jackie only liked depressing French films in black-and-white, but hotels didn’t usually offer those. There were a few slasher flicks, though. Perhaps the blood would appeal to Heather.

“How about Saw?” he asked.

“No, it’s unrealistic. You’d die of sepsis before any of the stupid traps.”

“Okay, how about Halloween Three?”

“It’s not even October.”

“Alright, alright, Texas Chainsaw Massacre?”

She made a face at him.

“What? You love chainsaw massacres.”

“Too soon, Jackie.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. What if we watch Psycho?”

She shrugged. “Fine.”

He didn’t care much for horror movies either, but it was better in comparison to everything else. Psycho was a classic, at least. Or so he had heard. As the introduction played, Jackie was still bored, but he was glad the room wasn’t dead quiet anymore.

His gaze wandered away from the movie, towards Heather beside him. In the light of the television, neon and always awake, she looked so different. He followed the motion of her eyelids, the way her eyelashes dipped as she blinked, the light reflecting against them in a waxy line then scattering apart.

He did not deserve anybody’s affection, least of all Heather’s. He was unable to even let go of what was hurting him, unable to rip the arrow from his chest—still, he would do anything for her. He had gouged his own heart out, and he would do it again. That had to mean something. He wasn’t completely useless, was he?

Heather wasn’t actually watching the movie, and neither was he. She stared at the floor, bit at the edge of her lip, and he stared at her. He was happy, but something caught in his chest and welled up in his throat. He got the strange urge to lean against her. Press up against her shoulder. Put his head there, breathe in and out, let everything else fade away…

Well, this was all foreign to him. He didn't know what to say, how to act. He knew how to behave and talk politely, but there was no skill in that. Nobody had ever wanted him like this before.

Heather was different. She kept him around. She wanted him to stay.

That’s because she kidnapped you, idiot.

Yes. Maybe it was delusion. Maybe it was pareidolia, to see patterns where there were none. But he could pretend. They could smooth that uneven detail over. They could forgive and forget and let live, just leave it be and let it go. And to be wanted was to be wanted; the legality of it was irrelevant.

He wasn’t sure what to do now. He couldn’t ask her outright. No, he had lost enough dignity already. He moved a little closer to her on the bed. Not enough to touch her, but close enough that they could touch if she wanted, hypothetically, possibly, maybe, to touch.

She turned her head towards him. Her hair shifted around her shoulders, spilling over them like woven silk, or like they were carved from marble, in perfect sheafs and sections. That familiar gaze seared into him, still distant and piercing, but not so cold anymore.

Someone was screaming on the television. The sound was distorted, cut through by static. It was some kind of brutal death, he was sure, judging from the sounds. The flash of a blade, the splash of water against linoleum, what could have been a fresh splatter of flesh.

Jackie leaned a little closer—still not close enough to touch, no, of course not. He’d understand if Heather shoved him away and started gagging. He’d be a little offended if she gagged, obviously…

“Stop.”

He flinched back at once. “Sorry, I—”

“I didn’t tell you to move. Stop moving. Stay there.”

Heather was not as shy as he was. She closed the gap between them with fluid ease, wrapped her arms around him and settled in the crook of his neck and shoulder. He wondered if she had more experience than him, to put it that way. She made this look easy.

He tried not to be so tense, tried to follow her lead. Jackie hadn’t been held in so long. It was supposed to be relaxing, but he was too occupied with making sure he didn’t screw it up. It was imperative that he did everything right. Heather already had enough reason to hate him.

“Hm?” She shifted her head. Her hair grazed the back of his neck. “Something wrong?”

“No.”

Someone was monologuing on the television. He couldn’t make out any of the words. Something serious, maybe a confession or a heated confrontation.

“Do you want me to let go?” she murmured. “You can ask me to stop, you know.”

“No, this is okay.” He shut his eyes. “I’m okay.”

“Why is your heart beating so fast?”

“I’m sorry.”

She sighed, a low and weary sound. “Don’t say that.”

“Sorry—“ He cut himself off. “I won’t.”

“That’s not what I meant. Say what you want. I don’t care. Apologize, if you want. But I wish you would…”

She didn’t finish her request. Instead, she placed a hand on his chest, where his heart buzzed so incessantly, betraying him, under the thick, solid black sweater he had borrowed from her.

He didn’t know what she wished for, but he knew he would give it to her. He wasn’t stupid; he was aware she could change her mind. He needed whatever brief protection her love offered, if it meant receiving her affection, her kindness. Such blunt terms would not bother him. All relationships were just company for company, tooth for tooth, an eye for an eye. The price was heavier here, perhaps, but it was still a simple one.

Heather pushed him down onto the bed. Slow, steady, the steady pace she had with the scalpel and saw. His eyes fluttered open. He remembered the metal pressure against his insides, against his stomach, his bones, a wound deeper than his flesh and nerves. He swallowed, and the thought died.

Exchange, give and take. That was all. That was… all. That was it, and he didn’t need to worry. He would be fine with that. He didn’t resist, let her push him down. The fabric was soft under his head.

Heather looked down at him, a watcher from above, indecipherable as always, still studying him.

He hesitated. She was waiting. He was supposed to say something, or do something, but his words faltered to a harsh blank.

She did not wait forever. She laid down beside him, nestled close and held him tight. The fabric shifted underneath them. A shiver clawed up his spine, but he remained perfectly still.

Now he could feel her heart beating as well. Hard, heavy beats, as unyielding as wrought metal. Her breath feathered up against his neck. The tang of orange blossoms filled up his lungs like sand and cement, a cloying citrus smell. The television muttered and murmured, but he barely heard it. His face was feeling flushed. He was painfully aware of each and every part of her, the curve of her shoulders, the precise pressure of her arms. The tension coiled with each exhale and inhale, wound up and up in his chest, grew thick in the back of his throat. But Heather was content to just lie there, so he was too.

The sky outside the window shone white-speckled black. Night had already fallen. It was unbearably cold out on the street, Jackie was certain, but he was inside and safe and warm. Not safe, necessarily, not yet, not quite… but he was inside and warm. Two out of three wasn’t so bad. And he wasn’t alone. It made him want to cry.

Heather closed her eyes. He didn’t see this happen, but he felt the butterfly-wing motion of her eyelashes pushing against his skin, grazing him like the spill of her hair.

It was easy to forget that constant heaviness in his chest. It was easy to just give up, give into it for one night. He was wanted here and it was going to be okay.

Their silence stagnated. The stars flickered, dim against the city’s brash lights. He closed his eyes.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl @lthrboy @whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation @creppersfunpalooza

@vidawhump

#whump writing #whump #Spiderwebs toyybox #my writing #intimate whumper #carewhumper #💔💔💔#Jackieeee :(

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pushing500 · 1 year ago

Note

Sorry if this has been asked before, or if you've already shown it, but could you share your mod list?

I sure can! However, due to my technological ineptness and inability to figure out how to export a proper fancy crisp mod list, this list has been hand-typed with my own brief and probably unhelpful descriptions of what each mod does (if I can remember or comprehend it, that is).

There are about 180 mods, give or take, so it's a long list. I'll pop it under here for anybody who wants to check them out:

This is in the current load order

Harmony (a framework one I think)

Vanilla Backgrounds Expanded (this is just cool for loading screens etc.)

HugsLib (I think this is also framework one)

JecsTools (I think this is also framework one)

Vanilla Expanded Framework (I'm near-certain this is a framework one, based on the name)

A Dog Said… Animal Prosthetics (animal bionics wooo)

LBE’s A Dog Said Easy Patcher (to add bionic compatibility with all the modded animals woooo)

Better ModMismatch Window (for if I do ever feel the need to mess with the modlist)

RT Fuse (I don’t like the zzzzt events)

[GMT] Trading Spot (to stop stupid traders walking in my house)

[NL] Facial Animation - WIP (they make funny faces :3)

Let’s Have a Cat! (I like cats)

Humanoid Alien Races (Aliens are cool)

Tree People (Continued) (because non-human colonists are awesome)

[ATW] House Decor (for aesthetic purposes)

Little Green Men - Legacy (Aliens are cool)

Vanilla Backstories Expanded (adds new and fun backstories for colonists)

Vanilla Animals Expanded (I insist on having a huge selection of pets)

Vanilla Animals Expanded - Royal Animals (more pets heehee)

More Persona Traits (this is why Xanxalbur the persona zeushammer is so cool)

Vanilla Ideology Expanded - Dryads (more gauranlen tree stuff)

Vanilla Base Generation Expanded (makes enemy bases on caravan trips more fun)

Vanilla Achievements Expanded (sometimes it gives me a serotonin)

Vanilla Races Expanded - Custom Icons (good for xenotypes and biotech stuff)

Dubs Bad Hygiene (bathrooms cool)

Hospitality (easy to make friends with other factions if you run a hotel)

Android Tiers Reforged (heehoo robots cool)

[AP] Lovin’ Reworked (Irwin and Connie are both AWFUL in bed, if you were curious 😳)

Vanilla Races Expanded - Phytokin (magic tree people very fun)

Vanilla Races Expanded - Saurid (dinosaur people wooooo!)

Vanilla Fishing Expanded (a good way to keep Wookshys distracted)

ReGrowth: Core (I don’t remember what this does but the thumbnail is cool and I assume it’s a framework mod)

Vanilla Plants Expanded (more farm stuff hooray!)

Vanilla Textures Expanded - [NL] Facial Animation (why my colonists have such cute lil’ faces)

Vanilla Plants Expanded - More Plants (even MORE farm stuff!!)

Vanilla Persona Weapons Expanded (more skins for persona weapons- another reason Xanxalbur the persona zeushammer is so awesome)

Vanilla Nutrient Paste Expanded (mmmmm yummy goo)

More Descriptive Words and Names (adds more descriptive words and names)

Ebbbs (horrible eldritch goo creatures my beloved)

Floordrawings (adds more floordrawings for kids to draw)

Horse Breeds - Skin Variations (horses very fun!!)

Vanilla Hair Retextured (helps vanilla hair look a bit nicer)

Trait and Backstory Icons (gives traits and backstories cute lil’ icons next to ‘em)

Geological Landforms (cool new map gens)

Biome Transitions (if your map tile is next to a different biome they can mix together at the edges)

Cactacae (Continued) (because non-human colonists are awesome)

NamesGalore (adds new names for people and stuff)

NamesGaloreLatin (adds new names for people and stuff but in Latin this time)

Character Editor (I wanted to start with at least one animakin colonist)

Vanilla Animals Expanded - Caves (I have a pet cave bear now called Witch)

Strong Bridge (makes bridges strong)

Roo’s Dreadlock Hairstyles (Irwin’s hair is from this one)

[SBV] Recreational Drum Use (I like drums and so would my colonists if they had them)

River’s Tribal Shoes (don’t want to get prickles in your feet)

Romance on The Rim (they have to get their daily smooches or they’ll be sad)

Pawn Name Variety (I like them to have lots of different name options)

Vanilla Furniture Expanded - Architect (adds new building stuff)

Camera+ (for taking better screenshots)

Vanilla Cooking Expanded (expands the cooking)

Vanilla Psycasts Expanded (expands the psycasts)

Biomes! Core (the framework for more biomes mods)

Biomes! Islands (in case I wanted to reenact the movie Castaway)

Alpha Animals (even more pets!)

Vanilla Ideology Expanded - Memes and Structures (lots of cool ideology stuff)

Simple Sidearms (every colonist needs MANY WEAPONS)

Doors Expanded (adds new doors)

A Rimworld of Magic (I don’t use this heaps in the current game but it is very cool)

Anima Gear (I could make stuff out of anima grass if I felt like doing the research for it)

Sexuality Traits (every pawn has a specific sexuality, instead of defaulting to 'straight' unless explicitly stated otherwise)

Vanilla Outposts Expanded (I could go make outpost camps if I wanted)

CM Color Coded Mood Bar (helpful for spotting incoming mental breaks)

Avoid Friendly Fire (you think they would be smart enough to know not to walk in front of the guns but noooo)

Vanilla Brewing Expanded (alcohol woo)

Vanilla Brewing Expanded - Coffees and Teas (coffee and tea woo)

Vanilla Furniture Expanded - Power (adds new power sources)

Vanilla Factions Expanded - Mechanoids (scary robots)

Vanilla Weapons Expanded (can never have too many weapons)

Vanilla Factions Expanded - Medieval (more factions to make friends with)

Giddy Up! Core (framework for riding animals)

Giddy Up! Battle Mounts (ride animals into battle)

Giddy Up! Ride and Roll (ride animals around doing daily tasks)

Giddy Up! Caravans (ride animals on caravan trips)

Megafauna (biiiiiig pets!!)

Vanilla Plants Expanded - Succulents (for making the colony look pretty)

Biomes! Prehistoric (dinosaurs :3)

Vanilla Genetics Expanded (I don’t use this a lot but re-reading the description makes me think I should because it looks like a lot of fun)

Vanilla Genetics Expanded - More Lab Stuff (presumably adds “more lab stuff” to the aforementioned mod)

Vanilla Furniture Expanded - Security (more defense stuff)

[FSF] Complex Jobs (Legacy Version) (splits jobs into smaller subsections)

Snap Out! (slap pawns out of their mental breaks)

Wall Light (wall light my beloved)

Standalone Hot Spring (geothermal power boring and ugly, hot spring FAR better use of steam geysers)

Vanilla Ideology Expanded - Splits and Schisms (the one that meant Wookshys could start his stupid sub-cult)

Allow Tool (easier to forbid and unforbid items)

Minify Everything (sometimes picking up whole sections of brick wall is okay)

Replace Stuff (so I can build stone walls on top of wood walls without un-freezing the freezer, etc.)

Mod Manager (I have lots of mods to manage)

Interaction Bubbles (to see what mean stuff Irwin is saying to his friends each day)

Polyamory Beds (Vanilla Edition) (tempted to use this in all my guest rooms)

Haul to Stack (so they don’t clutter the freezer with individual piles of food instead of one big pile)

Pick Up and Haul (pawns can carry more than one thing at a time)

While You’re Up / PUAH+ (pawns will carry stuff while they’re on their way to and fro)

Giddy Up! Add On: Saddles (saddles don’t do anything they just look nice)

Roo’s Royalty Hairstyles (fancy hair)

Roo’s Accessory Hairstyles (Wendy’s hair was from this mod R.I.P.)

Rainbow’s Hair Mod (I like lots of options)

ResearchPal - Forked (I’ve always played with this mod and it’s hard to adjust without it)

Tilled Soil (it’s not cheating it’s just farming)

VGP Garden Resources (it’s a lovely day on the Rimworld and you are growing uranium in your garden)

More Faction Interaction (Continued) (I wanna be friends with EVERYONE!!)

Rim of Madness - Bones (skulls for the skull throne and all that jazz)

Anthro Race (because non-human colonists are awesome)

Alpha Mythology (adds mythological creatures to the Rimworld)

Vanilla Weapons Expanded - Laser (adds laser weapons)

Vanilla Factions Expanded - Pirates (love me some pirates)

Alpha Biomes (can never have enough biomes)

All The “Vanilla Storytellers Expanded” mods, but I have literally never used them due to my firm standing as a Randy Random purist

Vanilla Ideology Expanded - Relics and Artifacts (adds new relics and artifacts for your ideology)

Vanilla Ideology Expanded - Icons and Symbols (easier to customise your ideology)

Vanilla Weapons Expanded - Heavy (adds heavy weapons)

Vanilla Weapons Expanded - Non-Lethal (for when you REALLY wanna recruit someone)

Erin’s Cottage Collection (everything looks so cozy ❤️)

Euglena Framework (idk mate)

Euglena Expanded - Implant (idk mate)

Vanilla Factions Expanded - Empire (adds more Empire stuff)

ReGrowth: Tropical (adds new tropical plants and stuff I think)

Vanilla Furniture Expanded (the core bit)

Vanilla Textures Expanded - Variations (I don’t want everything looking so uniform! There’s like twelve different people building the chairs; they’re gonna look different)

Vanilla Fishing Expanded - Xtra Fish (more fish to distract Wookshys)

Vanilla Textures Expanded (makes stuff look sharper and crisper)

Euglena Expanded - Euglena Xenotype (tree people go brrrr)

Vanilla Furniture Expanded - Props and Decor (more props and decor)

Vanilla Weapons Expanded - Quickdraw (adds quickdraw weapons)

Vanilla Weapons Expanded - Coilguns (adds coilguns)

Vanilla Factions Expanded - Settlers (like cowboys and stuff I think)

Vanilla Weapons Expanded - Frontier (weapons for cowboys and stuff)

Vanilla Expanded - Ideology Patches (for patching things up to Ideology I guess)

Vanilla Expanded - Royalty Patches (for patching things up to Royalty I guess)

Vanilla Furniture Expanded - Spacer (cool spaceship style furniture)

Vanilla Furniture Expanded - Medical (my hospital is VERY cool)

Vanilla Weapons Expanded - Tribal (adds more tribal weapons)

Vanilla Weapons Expanded - Makeshift (adds makeshift weapons)

Vanilla Cooking Expanded - Sushi (if my colonists weren’t mostly vegetarian we could make sushi with all the fish Wookshys catches)

Vanilla Animals Expanded - Endangered (gonna start a conservation project)

Vanilla Cooking Expanded - Stews (I don’t know I had this one installed. Are vegetarian stews a thing? Probably not)

Vanilla Furniture Expanded - Art (I’m something of an artist myself)

Vanilla Furniture Expanded - Farming (for farm furniture I guess)

Vanilla Furniture Expanded - Production (makes for very nice workshops)

Vanilla Apparel Expanded - Accessories (adds fun utility items)

Vanilla Social Interactions Expanded (new social interactions for fun and interesting storytelling)

Vanilla Factions Expanded - Insectoids (bugs. ew.)

Vanilla Factions Expanded - Vikings (adds vikings)

Vanilla Weapons Expanded - Grenades (adds more grenades)

Vanilla Traits Expanded (I love hoarding traits)

Vanilla Events Expanded (more events)

Vanilla Apparell Expanded (more clothes)

Erin’s Cat Overhaul (I like cats)

Vanilla Armour Expanded (adds more armour)

Erin’s Hairstyles - Redux (There’s never enough hairstyle variety)

Rimsenal - Hair Pack (more hairstyles lmao)

Vanilla Hair Expanded (more hair)

Gradient Hair (so your colonists can have frosted tips I guess)

Vanilla Ideology Expanded - Hats and Rags (adds new ideology clothes)

Tabula Rasa (idk mate)

What’s That Mod? (tells you what mod stuff is from. VERY USEFUL)

LightsOut (pawns turn lights off when not using them)

RPG Style Inventory Revamped (better inventory layout)

RPG Traits+ (more traits haha)

Sand Castles (colonists can build sandcastles for recreation if there happens to be sand around)

Bundle of Traits (give me ALL THE TRAITS)

More Religious Origins (more ideology stuff)

Optimisation: Meats C# Edition (all meat is just “raw meat” unless it’s specifically “human meat” or “insect meat”, so it can all be stacked together easily)

Prisoners Don’t Have Keys (they gotta bash their way out if they want to escape)

Rational Romance 2 (Continued) (more romance-y stuff)

More Ideological Words (just makes random generation a bit easier and more interesting)

Roo’s Glasses Hairstyles (Debby’s hair is from this one)

Tau Armory (my favourite WH40k faction)

Somewhere in here is also the "Toddlers" mod for when Baby Kaznove comes along, but I added it after I'd typed up the whole list, and now I don't know where it fits in. Sorry about that!)

#asks #rimworld #gracie plays #rimworld mods #gracie's rimworld modlist #I did post the modlist here before but it was in a reblog of a reblog I think #So it's probably good to stick it here for people who feel like seeing how drastically I change my game haha #There's lots more mods I want to use #But I don't like loading new mods partway through a game #It always stresses me out so I'll wait until the next colony #Thank you for your ask!!#Sorry the list is probably incomprehensable #That's on me #Have a glorious day!! xoxo

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rui-drawsbox · 2 years ago

Note

Ehe, my shower was quick and so was my brain, episode three is about to hit your inbox at max speed.

Also I might take a crack at drawing weapons for the knights if I finish my history essay tomorrow, so we’ll see lmao.

After last time, Arashi is about to have so much fun, and so is Shu :):):):)

So we start with Tsukasa actually

its him in class and we hear his internal monologue

He’s questioning what the hell he saw and trying to figure out what class that girl he saw transform is in (he’s walking around during this cuz it’s lunch time at this point and like the scenery would be nicer for animation if he was walking lmao + nicer if my dumbass wants to draw him)

he actually does find Arashi + the besties (no Izumi tho) but he’s too shy to approach them so he just watches them

hes mostly focusing on listening in and looking at that makeup brush that he saw turn into a sword

then he feels a hand on his shoulder

he turns to look behind him and, “Sena?”

izumi is kind of pissed lmao, cuz he found someone spying on his friends 🥰🥰 aww ge cares about them

anyways Tsukasa tries to explain himself but Izumi doesn’t want to hear it and try’s to drag him away, until Leo spots him.

“SENA!!!” At this point Leo is bolting toward him to drag him over to lunch 🥰🥰🥰🏳️‍🌈 love wins: Izumi joins them for lunch + Tsukasa now

These mfers tease Izumi about making a new friend and he’s like “no this is just some weird kid that I found watching you guys”

Ritsu makes a joke about Tsukasa watching them cuz he has a crush on one of them, Tsukasa denies cuz, I mean it’s Tsukasa. The bullying continues <<33

Lunch ends like normal, school goes on

the next day is much of the same

Arashi invites Mika to lunch, he hesitates and then declines

Arashi catches on to his hesitation but decides to change the subject cuz she can tell that it might be a bit of a sensitive topic for him and she doesn’t want to press

she changes the topic to Mika’s friends, and in a panic without anyone else to mention he says “Shu Itsuki”

We then cut to Leo’s class for a bit.

Shu asks to borrow Izumi’s glass pen for a moment so he can write something down, Izumi gets furious and almost punches the guy

then we cut back to Mika and Arashi.

Arashi is like “really??? That guy??? Oh my god you could do so much better” but she doesn’t say this out loud she just thinks it <<33

she only knows him from Izumi’s complaints <<33

Mika can kind of tell that she doesn’t like Shu and immediately starts verbally defending him like a Reddit user defending his favorite anime woman.

Arashi is like “chill for a moment please, I just don’t know him that well, I’m sure he’s a wonderful person once you get to know him :)” (Lmao 💀 with my plans for this outline ma’am you’ll know him a bit too well by the end of this)

Mika is like “yeah <<33” before realizing he’s supposed to be keeping his distance from Shu at school and immediately going onto the “well I don’t know him that well either, he’s just in the craft club with me, he’s just really nice sometimes”

Arashi drops the convo there and decides to show Mika some pictures of the cat

Mika likes cats so she invites him on a friendly study date at her house so he can see the kitty and they can do homework together

Mika, after a bit of hesitation, and also thinking about the pros and cons of listening to Shu vs playing with a kitty, decides that Shu won’t be too mad if he goes to play with the kitty. Also he reasons that Shu would want him to blend in well and get good grades so a study date with a cute girl who he happens to be friendly with can’t hurt.

anyways when they do get back to the house the study date is going well expect for the fact that the cat doesn’t like Mika very much, in fact his hands are scratched to hell and back.

Arashi helps him bandage them up but as they’re doing that they hear a loud bang from outside the bathroom

Arashi has the makeup brush in her pocket so she’s ready to transform if it’s another one of the dolls

she tells Mika to stay in the bathroom and to lock the door if he hears screaming, Mika is like “???😰😰😰☹️😨???” About this

arashi gets back to her room to find it being rummaged through by a bunch of little porcelain dolls. Like the creepy Victorian kind.

all of them turn in sync when she opens the door and after a second they lunge at her to grab the makeup brush.

Arashi transforms and yells for Mika to lock the door.

She fights off the horde of dolls, detransforms and then rushes back to the bathroom to check on Mika

He’s fine btw, just worried about Arashi

she tells him that everything’s fine and it was just the neighbors dog that got in again so she had to escort the dog out cuz the dog isn’t friendly to people other than the dogs own family and her family

Arashi asks if Mika wants her to walk him home, Mika declines and thanks her for the offer before leaving

Arashi texts her friends about what just happened

anyways we cut to a dimly lit mansion, it’s quiet and the only sound is the sound of a sewing machine and the frustrated sighs of the man using it.

The man methodically weaves golden thread into wine red fabric, his work is as delicate as it is precise, practically perfect to the untrained eye, and impressive to one who knows what to look for.

The dolls around him move about his work shop, carrying supplies, organizing shelves, dancing at his whims with the simple flick of the golden strings tied to his finger tips.

the air in the room changes and life sized doll clad in wine red with a frilly veil obscuring his face materializes across the room from his master.

he reports the intel he has found, and the man stirs from his work at the news.

“Another magical knight? And you’re sure the cat was with her?” The man allows his strings to flow freely toward the doll, enveloping his frame in a warm golden glow. “Well, there’s no need for you to bring the cat anymore, if she can transform already then there’s no point. That cat is useless to us now. We need that makeup brush. Make sure your dolls get it next time.”

the doll nods and waits for further instruction.

when he is given none, and is dismissed he stops kneeling and leaves the room.

the man who is sewing (the audience can’t see his face btw) sits back down at his machine and grumbles about there now being two headaches to deal with.

I’m having too much fun with this ✨✨✨

Imma try and draw the weapons tomorrow if I have time, if not, I’m off from school on Monday so I’ll just have my history course work which means I’ll have time <<33

Hello there! Everyone's ready for their weekly Magical Knights AU?! No?! I dont care let's gO

ok tbh the whole sequence has been in my head non stop so i had to animate it, and this time i made a storyboard! who knew that actually planning things beforehand made it easier!

i swear in krita it looked better

i know its in 144p i cant do anything about it sobs

now Mika defending Shu's image like his fav waifu is so canon to me. Is like IzumiP's trying to clean his image in any hate post about him adfkash

Shu VS Izumi who has the worst image 100% real no fake (goes wrong)

and im so jealous of mika for going to a study date w arashi fr i want to live that dream sobs

Also Arashi's cat just knowing that Mika's is not to be trusted is so good, like lil kitty knows things. Poor Mika's hands tho

fake screencap! i took the bathroom from a 3d printer site, hope that's not illegal akjdfsa

anyways Mika would be hearing how some loUD crashes and tumps and shi and then when he goes out there's nothing broken (by miracle), not suspicious at all nono

and Arashi offering to walk him home, what a gentlewoman 🥰🥰

also Shu and Mika living in a mansion?? so true?? Shu robbed a bank before the main story?? definitely. still it would be so funny if it's just a medium apartament and is just very well decorated--

take this as a promo poster btw i just like the compo a lot--

nOW i have this idea of the little dolls walking all over the house but not in the floor cuz that would be annoying when Shu/Mika walk, so they have these wood planks in the walls like the ones for cats!

that's all for today! seeya in huh,, dunno! ill see if i procrastinate less!!! :))

#tbh whenever izumi says something about makoto i just close my eyes and ignore it #also that picture in shu's drawing is def stealed from somewhere #my favorite part of this chapter was the arashi locking mika in the bathroom for probably 10 mins and then the two of them being like nothi #g happend #we love anime logic <33 #rui draw smth #ensemble stars #enstars #ensemble stars fanart #arashi narukami #(omg magical girl arashi)#mika kagehira #shu itsuki #izumi sena #tsukasa suou #leo tsukinaga #ritsu sakuma #enstars magical knights au

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wreywrites · 1 year ago

Text

Tiger Shark

Part 3: The Crown

Chapter 20

****note from Wrey- this one's pretty heavy****

We don’t talk about the drawing contest. It was a little too soul baring. But we do start spending more time together, acting like real neighbors who don’t actively avoid each other. The closer my Victory Tour gets, the more time we spend together. There are speeches to write—a general, use-it-in-every-district speech, and then short, personalized additions for the districts whose tributes I was allies with—and emotions to deal with. And I finally understand what Finnick was really talking about with the shark that stops swimming forward. I get bogged down in the speeches, distracted in fragmented memories, Stitch’s laugh, Elsie’s unflappable demeanor, Mako’s face lighting up when we opened a parachute basket to find cinnamon rolls. I fade out all the time, so much so that there are whole days I can’t account for. I can’t fall asleep. I can’t concentrate. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

Finnick, who started this endeavor with a very teacher-y attitude, soon gives up. When I fall asleep on the couch in the middle of writing a speech, he drapes a blanket over me and lets me sleep. On the days when I don’t want to think about any of it, he doesn’t make me. Instead we read or play marbles. Sometimes I don’t write, I just talk. And then, a week before we are due to leave on the Victory Tour, he hands me a stack of notecards, labeled by district.

“I just listened to what you said when you were in a talking mood, and eventually I got them cobbled together.” He smiles a little. “You do still have to read them out loud though, so… we should probably practice that.”

I nod, but can’t bring myself to do it that day. Instead, I sit on Finnick’s couch, wrapped in a blanket, playing a very slow and half-hearted game of solitaire. I sit there all afternoon. I don’t move when Finnick gets up and makes supper. He brings me a plate, and I push the shrimp and noodles around for an hour. Then we go back to sitting in silence.

At midnight, Finnick stands up. “Come on.”

I look up.

“If we achieve nothing else today, I’m making you get a good night’s sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” I mumble.

“Yes you are.”

I shake my head.

“Annie, I am still your mentor. You have to trust that in this instance, I know what’s best for you, and I am still trying to keep you alive, and I am helping.” And then he picks me up over one shoulder and walks upstairs.

I don’t bother resisting. It takes too much energy, too much concentration.

I notice vaguely that he has nicer pillows in his spare bedroom than we do. Except after he tucks me in, Finnick crawls into bed next to me and I have the oddly emotionless realization that this is his room. There might not even be pillows in the spare bedrooms here. What company would he have to ever be prepared for?

“Once when I was little, my mom was teaching me how to fillet fish. She had me up on a stool next to the kitchen counter, and she usually cut them up so fast, but that day she was being really methodical and slow and talking me through what she was doing. And then I blinked, and she’d cut her finger off at the knuckle.”

Laying on my back, I turn my head to look at him. “Please tell me you didn’t eat the fish.”

He smiles. “Better, she’d been planning it for days and had only very convincingly pretended to cut her finger off. She laughed and laughed, and I was traumatized. I had nightmares about it for a week. She felt so bad. But looking back… that’s just a good joke right there. And so well executed.”

I roll onto my side. I suspect these stories will require more reaction than the usual fare.

“Another time, she was trying to teach me how to tie my shoes—believe it or not, there was once a time when I couldn’t even tie a square knot—but I was so convinced I couldn’t do it, that finally one day she showed me how to do it, and helped me tie them, then untied them and made me do it myself. I got so frustrated when I couldn’t, so she agreed to keep tying them for me. But then she tied a knot and tugged on it to tighten it, and it just fell apart. She did it again, and the same thing happened, and the fourth time she just dissolved into tears and said she was sorry but she’d forgotten how to tie shoes and now I’d never have my shoelaces tied again. And I felt so bad that I’d done this to my mom that pretty soon I was comforting her and telling her it would be okay and that I thought I could remember how to do it, and then I tied my shoes. And that was when my fascination with knots started. Of course I found out years later when I realized that she’d been tying her own shoes just fine all that time that my mom had lied to me, but again, in hindsight, it’s a good joke and apparently a great way to teach your kid how to tie his shoes.”

I pull the blanket up to my chin and nod.

“And when I was eight, my dad gave me my first trident, which ended up being the trident I used to kill all those seagulls for Beck a few years later…”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I wake up the next morning, sunlight streaming in through the window, curled up next to Finnick, who is snoring. I have to leave.

I don’t get far.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I come around in a closet full of coats that aren’t mine. Somewhere, a door slams.

“Annie?” The shout echoes through the house. “Annie?”

I wonder how long it has been. A while.

“Annie?” The shouts are closer. I wish I knew where I was. Then I would know how to leave, how to escape without encountering anyone. I shrink back into a corner of the closet, wrap my arms around my knees, close my eyes.

The door opens.

“Annie!”

There is a hand on my shoulder. I try to escape, to scramble backwards, to run, but stupidly, I have already backed myself into a corner. I should know better than this.

Finnick’s hand is still on my shoulder. “Annie, it’s alright.”

“No!” I lurch for the door, pushing past him. “I can’t! It’s not-! Stop!” I yank my arm away from the fingers around my wrist. There. I am free to leave, to run, to… to what?

We stare at each other.

He opens his mouth.

“Don’t.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re going to say, and I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I used to be happy! Do you understand? Happy!”

I get no reaction, so I keep going. “I had a normal life! Friends, neighbors, family! I had Mako! I’d never killed anyone and I didn’t want to and all I did was go to school and go to work and live my life! And now everyone treats me differently! They look at me differently, and they think I don’t notice but I do! And every day I wake up and the first thing I feel is guilty! Because I came back and no one else did! Not Zalea, not Merritt, not Elsie or Stitch, and not Mako! And every day I have to live with that! And sometimes I don’t completely hate myself and I think I’m getting better, but then there’s this-” I gesture wildly, “-I don’t even know what this is, but it makes me feel even more guilty, and what am I supposed to do? Just live with it? I-”

Something snaps. “You think I haven’t gone through all that too? That I’m not right there with you, drowning in guilt and what-ifs? This is life now! There’s nothing else we can do with it! I would love nothing more than to curl up and die and be done with it, but that’s not an option! I will not be the shark that drowns!”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

My house is quiet. I sit in the downstairs study and read the speeches on the notecards and whatever happens happens. It takes me a whole day to get through them. And then I spend another whole day getting through them again. Part of me thinks it is good that the personal speeches will be at the beginning, in Eleven, Ten, and Eight. But then I remember that the last speech will be in Four. And I remember that I will then spend Districts Seven through One knowing what the families of my allies look like, how they react to what I say about their children, how they look at me when they see me with a crown on my head, when it could have been their child instead. And I have lost Finnick. Dad does his best, but he’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t know what I’m going through, so he can only do so much. I don’t hold it against him. I can’t. None of this is his fault.

The week passes in a haze. And then my prep team arrives.

They are all joyful screams and laughter, hugging me and telling me how much they’ve missed me. I can’t even work up the energy to respond. Even Marius looks happy to see me, but rearranging my face into any semblance of a smile is too much effort. They dress me and curl my hair and paint my nails and talk and sometimes I nod, but mostly I sit, staring into the space in front of me. I am drowning.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

We get on the train the next morning. Mags is not there, and for the first time, I come to terms with the knowledge that Finnick was my mentor, and it is Finnick I am stuck with. I haven’t even seen him since our shouting match. And now we are on the train together. At least Casca, Marius, and the Preps are there. They create a sort of buffer between the two of us.

Finnick is back to his old self. He talks and laughs with everyone. This makes it easier to ignore him. I can spend the day in my room and come out only when I am so hungry I can’t stand it.

The train goes on all day, stopping only to refuel. I read the District Twelve speech over and over until I have it memorized. I wonder if I will be able to muster up any emotion at all when I read it. I probably should, but I doubt I will. I barely sleep that night, much to the horror of the prep team. It turns out I have looked terrible and sleep-deprived for a while now, and one more sleepless night has made it that much worse. They combat the circles under my eyes with lots of makeup.

All Marius has to say is, “At least we know you don’t have any food stuck between your teeth.” He’s not wrong.

The speech in Twelve goes about as well as I expected it to. I am flat, barely there, and I fade out for a good thirty seconds somewhere in the middle. The only good thing about this is that I have successfully matched the mood of Twelve. They have a reputation for the most lackluster parties because they are the poorest district and they never have anyone to celebrate. The bigger, richer districts have actual parties, but it is because they know that if they didn’t win this year, they probably will next year. Twelve doesn’t have that kind of hope, or that kind of budget. Add to that the fact that the boy from Twelve would have won if I had just drowned ten minutes earlier, and they are downright sullen. But so am I, so I doubt it matters.

We get back on the train and depart for Eleven. The mood is much more subdued than it was yesterday, even than this morning when there was perhaps still a faint ray of hope that I would be able to pull myself out of whatever this is. But I haven’t. I can’t. I am drowning.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I don’t even remember what happens in Eleven. One of the Preps tells me my little speech about Zalea was beautiful. I make a mental note to thank Finnick for writing it, then I remember Finnick and I aren’t talking to each other.

At some point it occurs to me that Mako would not be happy about what I’ve become. But what does it matter? He’s dead. He has no say over my life, if I can even call this existence a life.

In Ten, I read my regular speech, then I look at the families. Elsie’s mom looks just like her. Merritt… with Merritt’s family stands another man, who looks as worn down, depressed, and terrible as I feel. It is Alvan. Alvan, who is too young to be Merritt’s father, but could quite feasibly be his uncle. Who must be his uncle, from the resemblance between him and the older man who can only be Merritt’s father. I read two sentences from the speech, and then I crack.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

We are back on the train. I am in my bed, covered by a pile of blankets. I can hear the voices, the screaming, the sounds of death. I am the one screaming.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

We are still on the train. There is a doctor standing next to my bed, looking at a notepad. He is talking to someone I can’t see without moving my head. Moving my head is too much work.

“She’s fine, physically. Maybe a little underfed, but there’s nothing we can do if she’s decided she won’t eat. Mentally, though…”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

We are back in Four. I am in my room in my house. I am still piled with blankets. I force myself to look around. This can’t be right. I’m supposed to be in… Nine? I wonder what day it is. I wonder if the Victory Tour is over, if we finished it and I just don’t remember, if I lived through it the way I’ve lived through so much, just drifting through in a haze. I roll onto my side and see him, asleep in a chair.

Finnick.

After a very long time, he wakes with a start, reaching for anything to use as a weapon. Then he takes a deep breath, visibly calming down. He looks at me and his face floods with relief. “I thought you weren’t going to wake up.”

“What?” I rasp. It must have been quite a while since we were in Ten. I sound like I haven’t talked in weeks.

“The doctor said you just shut down. Gave up. Something like that. They said they couldn’t help you, because you didn’t want to be helped. So all we could do was bring you back here and hope for the best.” He stands up. “Your dad told me to call him when you woke up and he’d come home and trade me.”

“Wait!”

He stops.

“Please stay.”

I am amazed when he obeys, sitting back down.

“What happened?”

“They cancelled the rest of the tour.”

“What?”

“Yeah. It was live. Everyone in Ten, and everyone who happened to be watching at home… they all saw it.”

“How’d they spin it?”

“Said you were sick. Had been for a while, but you were trying to soldier through for the districts because you knew how much they loved seeing their victors. You know, the usual pack of lies. Anyway, they said it finally just caught up to you and you were hallucinating because of the fever and then you passed out, and they sent you back to Four so the doctors could treat you at home.”

“What really happened?”

He takes a deep breath. “I think you noticed Alvan. And then I don’t know what went through that mind of yours because historically I’ve been bad at figuring that out, but you just… screamed. Like somebody was ripping it out of you. One of the Peacekeepers tried to help you, get you off the stage and inside, and you put up a good fight. So I stepped in and… helped. And we were walking you into the Justice Building when you just dropped. That was when they got a doctor and sent us on our way to the Capitol. We were there for…” he pauses, thinking about it, “…four days. You woke up once and went crazy on them. Attacked one of the doctors,” Finnick smiles a little. “You almost broke out of the med center. They had to send me after you.”

“Bet you enjoyed that.”

“Maybe a little. It’s been a while since I had a good fight.”

I smile.

“After that they kept you under while they ran every test they could think of and pumped you full of fluids and all that fun stuff. And when they decided there wasn’t anything wrong with you they could fix, they just announced that your illness was much more serious than anyone thought and that you were being sent back to Four for treatment and that the Tour was cancelled.”

“Oh.”

“The doctors wanted to make sure you weren’t faking, so they… they called everyone they could think of. Guess they all gave satisfactory answers because when they finally asked me about it, they believed me.”

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth.”

“That I was getting better and then the very idea of having to do the tour set me off?”

“I told them it happens all the time. Not usually this bad, but sometimes pretty bad.”

“But it doesn’t happen all the time. Or, it didn’t, I guess.”

He gives me a strange look. “It happens all the time. You don’t always go as far as hiding in a closet for four hours and not remembering any of it—most of the time we’re eating, or talking, or playing a game, or reading, and you look up and your eyes slide out of focus and you’re not there anymore. And it’s not for long, only a second or two. Sometimes you’re even still talking, but some part of you just steps out for a bit, then comes right back in.”

“Oh.”

He chews his lip and takes a long breath. “Annie… I’m sorry. About a lot of things.”

“It’s-”

“Don’t say it’s okay, because it isn’t. Just hear me out. Please.”

I nod.

“I don’t know how to help you. It is all I want to do, but I can’t. I barely got myself through being a victor, and I have no idea how to do it for you. I am trying my best, but it’s not enough and I’m so frustrated and sad and… sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you got reaped, I’m sorry Mako got reaped with you. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more while you were in the arena. I’m sorry you had to come out alone. I’m sorry you had to sit on stage alone and watch your Games. I’m sorry you had to come home and try to fit back into your old life even though it was impossible. I’m sorry I… about that night at my house.”

I should say something, but I don’t.

“When I woke up I knew… that was the best I’d slept in years, and I knew it was a mistake. And I was going to apologize, but you weren’t there. So I went to find you to apologize. To make it right, right away, because I knew what you were thinking. I knew how complicated it had to feel. I went to your house, and you weren’t there. I asked Mags and she hadn’t seen you, and neither had Beck, and neither had the old guys fishing at the pier. I went to your old house. You weren’t there. I went to your dad’s office on the docks and he hadn’t heard from you since the morning before. By the time I got back to my house I was… Annie, I was scared out of my mind. Four hours, that’s how long I’d been looking for you, and when I finally did find you, I was so relieved that you were there and alive and hadn’t, I don’t know, walked yourself off the pier or something because you couldn’t take it anymore, and I was so scared that you had snapped and you would just be a shell walking around going through the motions… I forgot why it was so important that I find you.”

He trails off. I don’t know how to respond to all that, but it does come with some concerning new information. “I was gone for four hours?”

He nods. “Honestly it might’ve been longer. It was a little over four hours from the time I woke up to when I found you hiding in the closet in my third spare bedroom.”

And I don’t remember any of it. “I had no idea. I thought it was, I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes, half an hour.” Wow. “I’m sorry I… lost it on you.”

“No need to apologize. We maybe should have had that discussion sooner. You had a lot of stuff to get out.”

I nod. “I just… I never felt like I could tell anyone how I was feeling or what I was going through because they’d try to help, and I didn’t want anyone to help, I just wanted them to listen and not look at me like I was going crazy. And I didn’t realize until after that it was always you. But being around you makes me feel guilty. Like I shouldn’t feel the way I feel when you’re around.” I stop. I just said that out loud. Now I really do want to walk off the pier.

But Finnick is smiling. A very small smile, but also a very genuine one. “I won’t tell anyone your little secret. And don’t worry, you snuck up on me too.” And with that, he stands and leaves the room. I hear him go downstairs and begin rattling around in the kitchen.

What does that mean? I snuck up on him? I’m good at a lot of things, but sneaking my six-foot, red-headed self around has never been one of them.

Finnick comes back in a few minutes later with an entire pot of coffee in one hand and two mugs in the other. He hands me the one that is already full.

“I know you’re crazy and don’t like coffee, so I made you hot chocolate. And I am going to drink this whole pot by myself.” He pours himself a cup. “Called your dad. He’ll be here as soon as he can. Said he was going to pick up chocolate rolls on the way.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Finnick does indeed drink the whole pot of coffee. He is on the last cup when Dad gets home, dripping with winter rain but triumphantly carrying a box of chocolate rolls. These he drops unceremoniously on Finnick’s lap when he enters the room and wraps me in a hug.

“I was so worried. So worried. Please don’t do that again.”

I nod into his shoulder.

“I know you can’t help it, but… Annie, we want to help you, if only you’ll let us.”

I nod again. “I know. But it’s hard.”

My father puts his hands on my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “I know. I know I can’t ever fathom what you went through and what it did to you and how you feel at any given time. But I can be here for you. Okay?”

I smile a little. “Okay.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I am supposed to be on bedrest, so we all stay in my room eating all the chocolate rolls until suppertime. Then Dad goes down and makes a quick meal of rice and clams and a new pot of coffee, which I sense is a point of contention between him and Finnick, and then brings it all upstairs so we can eat together. After supper, he asks if I want him to stay home from work the next day.

I shake my head. “Just because my life is completely upside-down doesn’t mean yours needs to be. Besides, somebody has to tell the crew I’m still alive and on the mend.”

Dad nods. “They’ve been worried about you. Wanted to come visit, but I told them to wait until you were ready for that much company.”

I nod. My crew is a lot to handle. “Thanks. Tell them to give me a few days and then we’ll see what we can do.”

He smiles. “That I can do. Now, I’m going to go to bed. One of the crews is short-handed, so yours truly gets to do some real work tomorrow.”

I wait until I hear his bedroom door close to turn to Finnick. “Will you stay?”

Finnick nods, pouring another cup of coffee. “As long as you want.”

****

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Tag List:

@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider @anakins-ride-or-die

#wrey writes #the hunger games #thg: tiger shark #annie cresta #finnick odair #dissociation #ptsd #it gets better after this i promise

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fallingstarnovel · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter Nine

"Uh, hi," Evan said.

Ashlin didn't say anything in return, so Evan barrelled on nervously.

"I'm Evan. I should have introduced myself, haha... um. Did you... overhear...?"

Ashlin slowly nodded. Her pale eyes were bloodshot and bleary, which gave them a filmy, glossed over kind of look. Maybe Evan could convince her she was having auditory hallucinations due to lack of sleep?

"It's nice to meet you," he added, because awkward silences made him compulsively want to fill them.

"I recognise you," Ashlin said, eyebrows drawing together.

Evan nodded eagerly. "We're in the same class as Aliya. I've seen you there too."

"No. I've seen you in my dreams."

...

Evan deflated in his chair. Why couldn't he make friends with normal people? "Oh. That's... nice."

"I saw you making a cup of coffee."

Time came to a standstill, digging its feet into the ground and refusing to go no further. Evan went perfectly still. When he next spoke, it was casual, obviously so. "What do you mean?"

Instead of answering him, Ashlin picked up a pen and started drawing on the paper beneath her, tracing circles around circles in long black loops. "I don't think it means anything. It's just a dream I had. There's nothing special about making a cup of coffee."

"Oh," Evan said, like his hands weren't gripping onto the chair beneath him, white knuckled. He forced them to relax. "That's a boring dream to have about someone."

"Isn't it interesting?" she continued. "You looked so unhappy. Stirring and stirring and stirring..."

Evan felt his breath catching sharp in his chest. "Have we met before?"

Ashlin considered this, giving him another filmy look. "No. No, we've never met. Oh, you look unhappy again. I have a nicer dream if you want it."

Warily, Evan nodded. Ashlin began drawing more intensely, hand swirling around and around on the paper, though she wasn't even looking at it.

"I saw night walking through a meadow wearing her cloak of stars. You were following behind her, your eyes glass, on three legs, too afraid to touch. I saw you gather the courage and pluck a star right off her cloak." She yawned, her head drooping. "And then I saw you put it to your mouth. Did you eat it or did you kiss it? It was so interesting... I just wanted to keep watching..."

With that, her head fell on the desk again. Evan jumped in surprise.

Did she just fall asleep again? Just like that? And did that even count as a nicer dream?

He poked her, but she just murmured and let out a long breath from her nose. It was then Evan realised his hands were shaking.

It was fine. It was just a weird dream this girl had! Obviously she ate too much cheese before bed time. Or she was on shrooms.

It felt rude to leave her there alone, especially when Aliya had booked out the study room, and it wasn't like she was disturbing him, so Evan ended up staying there and getting some work done after all. It was better to focus on his studies than to think about... literally anything else.

Evan could not stop thinking about it.

He did literally the bare minimum of work, before bailing and heading to the nearest café for something sugary.

Ashlin's words kept knocking around his head and catching him off guard. Not just her weird dreams – though they were scary enough – but everything else too. Like the fact that there was a simple solution all along.

While he waited in line for a pastry and some hot chocolate, he sent off a text to Ruth.

> hey ruth sorry to bother you! i just had a quick question

The response took a little while this time. Evan was already sitting at a table with his order when Ruth finally replied.

You're not bothering me. <

> heh sorry

> but um anyway, question!

> today i heard that curse marks can get removed through being blessed, is that true?

Another long gap. Evan drank his cocoa and ate his pastry and didn't feel any better for it when Ruth next replied.

Sometimes. Where did you hear this? <

> well this is actually a very funny story!

> you're going to laugh

> i accidentally ended up studying with the demon from yesterday

These responses were very quick.

Did she hurt you. <

I am not laughing. <

Did she hurt you in any way. <

> no it was fine!! don't freak out, sorry, i probably should have opened with the fact nothing bad happened...

> but anyway yeah, blessing! why didn't we try that out last night?

> we should give it a go, right?

It might not work. <

> let's try anyway. i mean, i thought being blessed was a good thing! so even if it doesn't work at least i'll be full of good vibes and stuff!

> maybe we can try it out tonight?

There was a long delay, so long that Evan had finished his drink and left the café by the time he got the response.

Something came up. I can't come over tonight. <

Oh. Oh.

Well, that was fine. Evan blinked down at his phone, firmly ignoring his first reaction – which was childish and stupid, and tasted a little like betrayal.

> haha that's fine! maybe another night then :)

I'm sorry. <

> why are you apologising haha? these things happen, don't feel guilty!!!

I said I would be there for you. <

He did say that, didn’t he? But even Evan didn’t take it that seriously. He knew better than to expect someone to actually be there as much as they said they would be. Life was too complicated - something more important always came up. Always.

Anyway.

Since Ruth was busy, Evan could entertain himself. And he didn’t need an angel to bless him! There were churches full of people who could give blessings, right?

His mind made up, Evan pulled out his phone and started looking up nearby churches to visit.

Evan hovered in front of the church doors, too hesitant to actually cross the boundary and enter past the threshold. The doors were huge, made of old black wood, and were studded with iron nails - they looked like they were designed to withstand a siege.

There was a smaller door cut into the wood that visitors could enter through. Inside was too dark to see. Evan listened, but he couldn’t hear a sermon or a service or whatever.

He just had to go in, find a priest, and ask for a blessing.

…

He couldn’t do it.

It was too embarrassing, and there was a huge chance that whoever he tried to tell about his curse mark would think he was insane. Curse marks? Angels? Demons studying in the library?

His own memories of going to church were vague and unhelpful. Hard wooden pews, his feet dangling in the air, and an unbelievably tall vicar droning in the pulpit about… something to do with a ribbon wrapped around an orange. He wanted to eat the communion wafers because they looked like biscuits, but he was never allowed.

Not helpful at all. He should have paid more attention back then. Now he had an actual, practical reason to listen!

But Evan had never been back to church, not for a long time.

He took a deep breath and edged through the door, entering into the cool, dark interior. The inside was… surprisingly modern. Light wooden floors and caramel wood pews with pleasant cushions. Spotlighting on the dais and the pulpit.

A horrible electric thrill ran down his back, congealing over where he knew the mark was. It tingled and sparked, like it knew it was in dangerous territory.

Evan swallowed, and crept forward a step. There were one or two people sitting in pews, heads bowed in silent prayer. Before he met Ruth, Evan would have felt terrible coming into somewhere like this, where people were actively worshipping, while being somewhat indifferent to the concept of God. Like he was a sinister interloper hiding in a flock of sheep.

Now, though, he had rather pressing and deeply personal reasons to be here.

Evan started sweating as he tried to figure out his next move. He really didn’t feel like he was supposed to go deeper into the church, as if the closer he got to the pulpit, the stronger the feeling of imposter syndrome would be.

When an older woman in a dark shirt with a customary white dog collar appeared out of a nearby door, Evan made accidental eye contact with her and immediately regretted it. She smiled at him and made her way over - but Evan took a few steps back. Old, uncomfortable feelings were pressing down on him again, things he felt long long before he came to university.

“You look a little lost,” she said kindly.

Evan tried to make his mouth work. “No, I’m… I need… Can you…?”

As her smile turned into a confused frown, Evan flinched, before hurriedly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away. He spilled out of the church and onto the pavement, strangely out of breath and flushed red with mortification.

The sun seemed very bright out here compared to inside. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice that he was about to bump into someone until it was too late: he and the stranger went sprawling.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted out on autopilot. “Shit, are you okay - wait, you!”

The stranger he had knocked over was no one other than… hm. Evan had forgotten their name. Tree? Rock? Branch? No, it was probably Rock, right?

Rock was lying on the ground. When they saw Evan, they scrambled to their feet, eyes darting around nervously. “Hey,” they said, laughing awkwardly. “Evan. Didn’t see you coming out of… church.”

Their voice lilted curiously as they saw the doorway Evan just rocketed out of. Feeling very self conscious about the woman inside, Evan darted back onto his feet and held out a hand to steady Rock. “Yeah, I was trying to get blessed.”

Rock blinked. “… what? Why?”

“Because of this stupid tattoo,” he blurted out, and then sighed. “Someone told me to try blessing it, and now that I say it out loud, it sounds weird as hell.”

Rock slowly shook their head. “No, it doesn’t sound stupid at all. The tattoo you were asking me about, right?”

“Right.” Evan tried not to crumble with embarrassment. He probably sounded half crazy. “I thought about asking the vicar here, but I got a little nervous. They’d probably just tell me to stop pulling a weird prank on them if I asked.”

Rock was looking at Evan with a searching gaze, their eyes roaming over his face. They frowned for a second, before seeming to realise something.

“I know a priest,” they said hesitantly. “Someone who has experience with… well, it’s a curse mark, isn’t it?”

“Apparently,” Evan said helplessly. “I still don’t think it’s real, but I trust the person who told me. Wait, you know about curse marks?!”

Rock nodded. “You’re right to be cautious. It may be an ordinary tattoo. But let’s just say I’ve witnessed a curse before. I know they’re real. And this priest can tell us if it’s something you need to worry about or not.”

Taken aback, Evan looked at Rock with new eyes. He thought he was the only person who had experienced the supernatural, and yet Rock was apparently totally up to speed with the concept of curses. What the fuck? Was everyone around him getting cursed or blessed or followed by devils all the time, and he was just too oblivious to notice?

It was possible. After all, he point blank tried to tell Aliya that her study buddy was a demon, and she still didn’t get it. Was he just like that before an angel came along and opened his eyes to the truly abnormal things happening all around him?

“Okay,” he said hesitantly. “If you could, I would really appreciate seeing a priest. Does he. Does he have experience with. Um. Demons and stuff.”

Rock nodded. “Yes. Lots of experience. He travels around doing exorcisms and sermons, all hush because Big Church hates him. You know how it is.”

Evan, who did absolutely not know how it was, nodded and pretended he understood. “Well, lead the way.”

Rock guided them both through the city, down the sloping roads to what Evan recognised as one of the night club quarters. Now in day time, it was quiet and seedy, hemmed in by tall buildings with oppressively uninteresting entrances.

At night, this place was wall to wall with drunk students and youthful locals who wanted to find cheap booze and loud music. Or so Evan had heard.

Rock stopped outside of what might have been a shop front a long time ago. Evan looked up and examined the peeling name painted above the dusty windows.

“… the Blue Angel?” he said quizzically.

Rock shrugged. “Gotta let your clientele know where you are somehow, right?”

They knocked on the door. After a long minute, there was a rattle, and then the door creaked open. An older woman peered at them, her wrinkled mouth pursing in disapproval, but then she stepped aside.

She gave a particularly dirty look to Evan, letting out a judgemental sniff when he walked past. She disappeared into the gloom, leaving them alone in an empty bar that smelled of stale beer and alcopops. The floors were horribly sticky. It felt like they were loathe to let shoes leave their surface, clinging on with disgusting tenacity.

Bemused, Evan swapped a look with Rock, who just chuckled. “You should see this place on a Monday night. Pandaemonium. Alright, follow me.”

Crossing the room, they went down a very steep set of stairs into a basement with a low ceiling. Evidently this place, as damp as it was, was also busy on Monday nights, because there was another bar and a DJ booth crammed into the gloom. The smell was even worse down here, like old hops and vinegar and eggy vomit. The substance that made the floor so sticky also appeared to be on the walls and ceilings, making them shine like a watery cave. Evan swore he spotted stalactites forming in corners of the room.

It was dark, but Rock didn’t seem unnerved. They confidently opened another door, with another set of stairs behind it. There were several signs saying “keep out” and “staff only”, which they ignored.

Jogging down the stairs, the eggy smell got worse, like stagnant water. Evan surreptitiously held his nose. “Are you sure he’s down here?”

“He’s always down here,” Rock replied confidently. “When you need him, he’s always down here. He just kind of knows.”

Perhaps it was a mistake following this person he barely met at a party he didn’t remember to a nightclub he had never visited to see a priest who was definitely banned from every church in the country. Evan was starting to get second thoughts, and he was considering politely excusing himself, when the stairs finally ended. There was another door. Rock rapped on it, and someone inside coughed and yelled, “come in lad”.

Feeling socially obliged to enter, Evan stepped through the door and into a small, dark room. A fluorescent office light flickered above, casting a harsh greenish glow on the only inhabitant of the room. It was a man, maybe in his sixties, with a patchy yellowing beard poking out from his strange cowl. He looked like he might have fallen out of a sixteenth century plague pit, if only he weren’t wearing a grubby pair of white trainers and sweatpants that had seen better days.

Notably, he wasn’t wearing a cross or a dog collar. Evan wondered if this was what priests looked like on their days off.

Rock peered from behind Evan, patting him on the shoulder before scurrying into the room.

“Listen, we’ve got a poor guy here with a big fuck off curse on his bum.”

Evan turned red. “It’s not on my-!”

The old man raised his eyebrows. “Does he now. And why hasn’t he been dealt with yet?”

“Because it’s…” Rock said, before coming to a nervous halt. “Evan, do you mind showing him?”

Maybe it wasn’t too late to go home. But fine. He needed this fixed, and he’d done worse for the doctor, so Evan undid his belt and lowered his jeans just enough to show off the tattoo on his lower back.

The old man whistled. “Bit extreme. Someone really wanted this particular little shit.”

“Hey!” Evan said, but they ignored him. Tree said, urgently, “yeah. Someone did. Someone we both know did.”

Since he was facing away from them, Evan thought they had both gone silent, but when he turned back around, they were staring at each other with the telltale wide eyed look of a pair that had been in the middle of an intense whispered conversation.

“Bugger,” said the old man, and then, “shit me. You’re not really doing it, are you?”

“You fucking kidding? He’d kill me,” Rock said, looking both excited and terrified. “No way I’m claiming that, either way. But a mark like that. What do you reckon he’d pay for its safe return?”

The old man huffed, and spat, and then grinned. “Fine. But you didn’t talk to me. And I want tax. I’m investing.”

“Fine. Deal. So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah yeah, keep your hair on.”

Evan had very much lost the plot. “You know what? This has been lovely, but I think I’m going to head out.”

Rock and the old man stared at him. The only door into the room slammed shut, and the light flickered overhead. Evan suddenly felt like something had stuck the soles of his shoes to the floor.

Oh no. He really should have just gone to that nice, normal church. Even if they laughed at him, he had a feeling he’d be in a better position than he was right now.

“Don’t worry lad,” said the old man, leering with a dreadful tombstone tooth smile, “there’ll be someone to catch you at the bottom. So don’t bite through your tongue. They always bites through their tongue.”

Evan stared at him in bewilderment, and then at Rock. “What’s going on? What are you…”

Rock’s eyes were gleaming. There was a low susurration, the light flickered again, and then a trap door opened up underneath Evan’s feet.

Rock and the old man vanished from sight as Evan dropped like a stone into the void below the floor.

He fell for a very long time.

author’s note: this really happened to me actually

Previous Chapter | Contents | Next Chapter

#chapter

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sharusjournal · 9 months ago

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what i am learning about love 💌

I had always thought love was supposed to be passionate and intense. selfless consuming all or nothing. never faltering. never questioning. that it had to last forever. no mistakes no wrongdoings. just rainbows and sunshine. just the silver lining part. that everything could be overcome and forgiven. always go back to each other. I read a lot of wattpad books if that helps explain things.

But I'm learning that love in simple terms is really and truly just about consideration. That is the highest form of it and the purest form of it. The passion dies down a little. Everyday life carries on despite it. The bad stuff comes into the picture. The flaws of yourself and another person. What’s left is The patience. The prioritising. In the most seemingly insignificant and smallest of things. In the things that you can do yourself or things you would’ve never thought to do but things that… make you feel seen. Make your life easier. Make you feel cared for. Taking care of you in those small moments is so intimate and tender.

It’s my dad driving hours and hours because I’m sick just to hand deliver my mum’s special soup that she woke up early to make for me. It’s him never telling me about his struggles never complaining about the hard work he does solely for his family. It’s him making sure I have enough spending money and nothing to worry about, when hes not even sure if theres enough to pay the bills. Its him feeding me a peeled orange without me ever even saying I wanted an orange. It’s him being kind to me believing in me even when I let him down. Its him in the background making sure Im okay without ever explicitly calling me or asking me.

It's my mum crying every time I have to go back for uni. It’s her discovering royal mail special delivery and cooking a month’s worth of food to send to me. It’s her buying new clothes for us when her coat has a zipper that’s long been broken and pockets coming off the seams. It’s her coming to my flat and washing my dishes and sweeping the floor before her shoes are even off. It’s her asking every night if I ate. How Im feeling. That I should sleep early. Her endless stories and advice and wisdom. It’s her making me feel so safe and cared for everytime I come home. Her making me feel like im still her loved daughter even if im miles away.

It’s my sister that would make hand written letters and drawings for me everytime I came home to comfort me. Its her making me laugh and being silly so we forget about the hard stuff. Her letting me share her bed. Her things. Her telling her friends about me. Being proud of me. Her copying me. Stealing my clothes. Her coming to me and telling me all the little details of her day. Calling me ugly and stupid but never really meaning it. I think.

It’s my brother that seems so aloof and unbothered, but would secretly pay attention to everytime my mum cried. Who would secretly tell me. Who would be a little nicer to her that day. Who would offer his savings money when I’m joking about being a broke student. It’s him carrying the bottom of my saree when it was in a puddle without me realising. Him working extra hard just so he can beat my grades. ( Because he thinks so highly of me obviously)

It’s my friends being so invested and supportive of my exams and my studies that they would cry on my behalf. My friends that believed in me more than I believed in myself. My friends that would dress up and show up for my first holiday alone… even when they don’t even celebrate it. Who would drive for hours just to make my life a bit easier. My friends that wouldn’t let me pay for things… just because. Them wanting to spend time with me. Wanting to see me to do nothing together. It’s my friends who show up with flowers and tiramisu because they know I love them. My friends who run to buy me plasters when I say my shoes hurt. My friends that walk me home. My friends that wait for me to get home. My friends that would call me and let me cry. That would just listen. That would understand why I’m not replying. My friends that would defend me to the death. The absences that I feel so deeply.

I’m reflecting a lot on all these people in my life. It makes me cry my eyes out. Obviously, its not all great and we argue and disagree and do hurtful things. We’re completely different people, its almost inevitable that there will be things that don’t go so well. But I’m learning that doesn’t automatically means that’s not love. It might be a difference in how you communicate. How you show things. How you grew up. It might not be. But itt might. I don’t know that part is still a little complicated for me. I think the essence of it is that I cannot be more grateful for them.

That’s not to say I don’t still believe in a passionate consuming forever love. I do because I think I do. But Ive just grown to appreciate that theres different types of love. And some of them are stronger and long standing and more important to me than romantic love could ever come close to.

Anyway. Im going to hold these people a little bit tighter. Reminisce on the memories a bit harder. And try more and more to show up and show love and always always be mindful about how I act. I have always found it hard to be expressive. I compliment them I say supportive things. I try to spend more time with them and be present in the time I spend with them. I buy them presents. A lot of presents. Yeah never mind actually the only way I show love is by giving people things I think. I need to work on being more physically affectionate. Ive never really been comfortable with it but I don’t want it to be something I regret not doing enough of. I have also never told my family or friends that I love them. Not properly anyway. Maybe written on a birthday card. I want to get better at it. This whole love thing. I want to be someone who gives out love freely and generously. Without being offended when it doesn’t come back. I want to be like all those people I talked about.

#love #valentines day #reflections #spilled thoughts #nostalgia #thoughts #friendship #aesthetic

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christmas-shenanigans · 11 months ago

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Session 2: Sat 9 December 2023

Slightly late start due to Yours Truly sitting here waiting for their phone to ring instead of checking Discord. Lol. And off we go!

Cheese jokes and then some WhatsApp mute button japery. And now we’re off for real this time. Mialee and Wee Jock catch us up, yay! They had a much nicer journey than we did, possibly thanks to us clearing a path for them.

“Who’s the new girl? And the goblin?” Wee Jock asks as they arrive. Valeros is walking off to the north as they arrive. Skabb grabs his ankles. It is early morning by this point, and we see this off in the trees, which is clearly what Valeros is looking at:

She sees him looking at her and runs off; he follows and so do we. We think he might have been entranced. There is a flash of light - and Valeros stops. The nymph steps into a tree and disappears. Valeros announces that he can’t see. Halbrecht will give him a look over to see if there’s anything he can do about the blindness. We all wrack our brains to see if we know anything about nymphs; they can do an ability called Blinding Beauty. Well, that tracks.

Halbrecht casts Restoration on Valeros.

“Get out of our woods!” someone shouts in Sylvan. Rude. Wee Jock pretends to knock down a tree with his hammer. Something appears…

Skabb tells them we are just passing through. Wee Jock asks where the goblin village is.

Why so angry, friend? asks Skabb.

These are our woods, we don’t want you here.

We’re trying to go north to the gobbo village.

Leave now, we are told. We’re trying to!

We scooch past, keeping an eye on the thing as we go. They apparently don’t attack.

The rest of the day is uneventful. As evening draws in we hear wolves howling in the distance. We make camp, in spite of the wolves seeming closer to us. Wee Jock suggests we stay bunched together. We do that, and ready attacks. Valeros can’t see, but he’s happy because the cold ‘makes him look taut’.

The wolves approach, and Skabb sees these two:

Halbrecht and Zorya ready actions, and Zorya recalls knowledge about wolves. They could be a number of things (barghests, dire wolves…) but she’s not sure.

(There’s a lot of Gloucestershire accented “‘Ello my love!” but I miss the context.)

A wolf appears - Halbrecht looses his Divine Lance and Zorya crits with her composite shortbow for 17 damage!

The wolf lunges at Halbrecht and tries to get him in its jaws. He takes 8 piercing damage from its teeth as it snatches him up. The other wolf appears…

It attacks Wee Jock with a 26; he doesn’t need to check his character sheet for that. Oh fuck there’s a third! It grabs Skabb in its mouth. And another giant wolf…

This one takes an action to seek out Zorya, but she crits her stealth check. Not today, bitch! (She forgot about her sneak attack damage… she rolls it now for another 8 damage. “Howdy doodis?” she asks optimistically, but is disappointed.)

Skabb makes an escape attempt, rolling a 14. She wants to cast Pummeling Rubble down the neck of the wolf holding her:

It is ruled that she can’t aim it down its neck, even though a wolf full of rocks would be hilarious, so she retracts the spell. She does Burning Hands instead. It crits its save. Skabb just sort of… settles in.

We hear a voice in our heads. We are heading for the goblin village, yes? “Ow,” we reply. If we bring them the head of the chief goblin they will spare us.

Zorya tries to reply to one of them to tell it that we don’t negotiate with terrorists, but the wolf just seems confused. So they’re being controlled…? Another wolf, this one with glowing eyes, approaches and says “You can have a minute to think.”

Mialee takes a shot for a 31. She gets sneak attack damage, too! She makes a Stealth check; dirty 20.

Wee Jock is being gently chewed. He considers sliding down the wolf’s throat and doing damage with his warhammer. He Rages, but there’s no button on his character sheet for that. He has the Titan Wrestler feat though, he realises, and sets about beating the wolf around the head. (I am told to tell him off; I do, even though I’m not sure why. There must be a reason.)

Halbrecht does Searing Light, quote, “because it’s exciting”. He casts it into the mouth of the wolf holding him. There’s a discussion about flanking and whether Wee Jock can do that from inside the mouth of another wolf. The wolf drops Halbrecht and he uses his last action to hit it with his hammer. There are a lot of red numbers.

Zorya makes a break for it and climbs a tree, taking a shot at one of the wolves from in the branches. Luckily none of them are able to attack her as she goes. Halbrecht’s wolf attacks him again and gets him back in its mouth. It then shakes the fuck out of him:

He rolls too low on his save, tries to insist that he adds 12 to everything he rolls, is universally disbelieved and takes his 9 damage.

Skabb’s wolf does the same thing; she rolls a 28 and only takes half damage. The wolf shakes her twice more, and she fails the next two saves. Wee Jock’s wolf does the same, but it rolls low damage so the little sack of scar tissue probably doesn’t even notice.

A wolf goes over to Zorya’s tree and leaps - snatching her up into its jaws. “Ah shit.”

Skabb casts Vomit Swarm and crits:

Then Grabby Cat flies into the ear of the wolf with the glowing eyes. She asks it why it wants to eat the gobbo.

Nasty goblin chief killed lots and lots of my kin, she is told. She has a little chat with it, tries to persuade it that it doesn’t want to continue this attack. It responds by running up to the wolf holding Wee Jock in its jaws and attacking the gnome. And again.

Mialee wants to shoot the one with the gold eyes, but goes for the one holding Wee Jock instead. It drops him! She shoots it again, and kills it! She re-hides. DM: “Wise.”

Wee Jock, still raging, moves on to the next closest enemy as is his tradition. He will continue in this vein until they are dead or he is. The next closest happens to be the golden-eyed one. Does Rage add five to his attack at all? No, but the next attack is better. His third is also bad. He asks for a Hero Point to re-roll it. Then asks for a Hero Point for having the ballsiness to ask for a Hero Point, and gets one! He uses it to attack again, but rolls even worse. Next turn he is going to grapple it by the legs.

Halbrecht has to put his cheese down for his turn. He’s used a lot of his spells now. He does Spiritual Weapon. If it hits it will do 6 damage. “My spells are rubbish, [DM].” It does apparently just hit, though, there is no attack roll or saving throw. He uses his last action to Heal himself.

Zorya wriggles out of her wolf’s mouth, shimmies back up the tree and hides. “Acrobatics? I’m good at that.” She rolls a 26. Skabb: “She’s a cocky little shit, this girl.”

A wolf bites at Wee Jock and grabs hold, and shakes him. He fails the save, but only takes half damage. (He’s still not even close to his favourite hit point.)

Grabby Cat tells the glowy-eyed wolf that we have a magic acorn… She makes a Diplomacy check of 16. It tells her to show it the acorn; She flies over to Skabb to take it, then flies back to the wolf and show it. The wolf howls, and the rest of them drop those of us who are in their mouths. If they see us again, they will eat us. They are bound to honour this, but only once.

We do some healing, and make camp. Wee Jock wants to sacrifice some trees. So he does. He hadn’t finished.

We consult the map and continue on. Skabb smells something delicious; the rest of us smell something disgusting. We hear terrible, tone-deaf singing as well as we approach Pinereek:

The goblins catch sight of us and start scurrying around the town and pulling up ladders; we hear a gong sound and a balcony opens, and this gentleman appears:

“Well, daughter, what do you bring to my village?” he says to Skabb in goblin.

“Ugly friends!” she replies.

He points at Wee Jock. “Scouts say this one a hiss-fittler.” He points at the rest of us, expressing various concerns about our behaviour. We promise (lying) to behave.

He will let us go and see the witch. He points to a hut, out of which purple smoke is pouring from the chimney. Skabb offers Zorya and Mialee a silver piece each to behave. They reluctantly agree.

Wee Jock displays a middle finger, as evidence that they aren’t crossed as he also promises to behave.

The door swings open as we approach, and this appears:

She addresses Skabb as daughter, as well! She calls for her “ugly apprentice”, who also appears:

They insult Zorya for a while and nearly get stabbed, but then Skabb changes the subject to ask them to help cure Valeros’ blindness. (Zorya makes up her mind to steal at least one thing from here before they leave.)

They take out some foul-smelling gunk and tell him to put it in his eyes. He says it smells like it’s going to make him ugly! They tell him not to worry. Smooth skins (?) couldn’t be uglier if they tried! Skabb finds this hilarious, and slaps the stuff on Valeros’s face.

We ask about the sorceress.

Valeros asks who teaches the wise ones magic. He is too old and too boy to be taught magic. Skabb is small and young and girl. She needs a kayak. (I think?)

She must pass a trial to meet the kayak. We must all do it together. There’s a fun game for us to play!

We take her hideous apprentice with us, she will take us to a cave outside which is a guardian made of ice. Defeat the guardian and we can meet the kayak.

The group is warned to keep an eye on Zorya and make sure she doesn’t steal anything. They are watching her like a hawk; “You are all underestimating how good I am at stealing things.”

What will we need to take with us? Skabb asks her to take us to a good place to get provisions, and we leave it there for tonight. Wee Jock wants to know if he can have something made of cold iron, in case we run into any more fey. “Something blunt. Basically a hammer.” He must find something delicious from the woods as payment.

We must also bring some familiars with us, Klipp Klopp and Yhaaki:

... Okay fine, if we must.

#dnd #pathfinder #christmas special

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landinoandco · 3 years ago

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An Unlikely Grand Prix

Daniel Ricciardo x reader

Warnings: flufffff

Word count: 2.1k

Requests are open :)

The Belgium Grand Prix was one that was highly anticipated - not only did it mark the end of the summer break and start to the second part of the season but it also promised some quality racing with its high speed corners.

You and Daniel were sitting in your hotel room on Sunday morning, a drink of coffee in your hand and a vitamin smoothie in his, your laptop open in front of you as you made some edits to the latest version of your book. You were an author and about to finish the final edit of your new novel.

“Have you seen the weather forecast for today?” He asked, leaning onto his forearms. You looked over your laptop lid and nodded, taking off your glasses.

“I have, you better be careful. It was bad enough in qualifying yesterday - “ You paused, saving your work and closing your laptop down. “I don’t care what people say - wet races always make me nervous. They shouldn’t have sent you out in Q3, it was hard to watch.”

A silence fell between the both of you, Daniel watched with a softness in his eyes. He knew exactly how you felt and he loved how supportive you were of him. You were his biggest fan and he could not be more thankful for it - you were there for him every weekend through rain and sunshine and through good races and bad races. You knew him better than anyone.

“I will be as careful as I can -” He reached across the table and took your hand in his. “I really feel like I’m getting somewhere though - P4.” He exclaimed, a smile flashing across his handsome features. You brushed your thumb over his hand.

“It was a really good lap - especially given the weather.” You agreed.

You moved your gaze to the window - the steady sound of rain hitting the hotel window filled the room.

“It’s definitely going to be a tense one.” Daniel muttered, pushing his chair back and getting up. You followed and made your way to the door, shrugging on your coat as you went.

The rain was pouring down as though the heavens above had opened - Daniel held an umbrella above both of you, sheltering you from the downpour. Members from different teams raced around the paddock to dry shelter - the buzz of conversation could already be heard from the grandstand in front of the pitlane. You admired the dedication of the fans; it was far from just a shower and for those exposed without even the slightest of cover would be drenched to the bone even by now and the grand prix was far from starting.

You looked over to Dan, his eyes twinkling and a spring in his step told you that he was looking forward to today’s race. His eyes flickered down to meet your gaze, bumping his shoulder into yours causing you to chuckle.

It was incredible to think about all of the things you two had managed to fit into 3 (going on 4) years. You met each other on the top of Table Mountain in Cape Town, you were there plotting for your next novel and Daniel was there hiking with his friends…

You were sat on a rock, looking out to the city of Cape Town tucked away under the mountain range - you were out in South Africa on an escape from the cramped conditions of London. You had a deadline quickly approaching to come up with a plot for your next book and as of that moment you still weren’t any closer to coming up with the next bestseller. Sure, you had ideas but they were yet to set a light a fire of motivation in you.

You had zoned out, your gaze attached to a bird soaring across the landscape ahead of you when a sudden voice pulled you swiftly out.

“Whatchu’ writing about?” The man asked, his tone was bright and as you looked over at him you saw the beaming smile stretched across his features. His eyes showed a confident but kind manner, brown curls stuck to his forehead and the beginnings of a beard covered the bottom half of his face.

“If I knew, I would tell you.” You quipped back, turning to face the man in order to see him properly. He had a muscular physique, no doubt a sportsman - you had thought at the time - an explosion of colour seeping out from his shorts caught your eye as you clocked the tattoos; they weren’t the only ones either as little drawings were littered over his hands and arms.

“Nice tattoos.” You complimented, nodding over to him. If it was at all possible, his smile grew larger and he put his fist out.

“I’m Daniel, by the way, Daniel Ricciardo.”

The rest was history - an adventure packed history. One filled with enough adrenaline to last you for the rest of your existence. The introductions had also prompted your next plot idea so the following week when you had returned to London you turned it into your agent - who had immediately loved the outline you had presented.

A few hours later and the start of the Belgium grand prix was approaching but still the track was resembling more of a spa - ironically - than a safe and functional track. Dan walked in from the drivers parade and shivered - his coat having provided no cover.

Frowning, you got up and handed him a towel, “What are the conditions like?” Nerves laced your tone. Dan sat down, shrugging, “They’re what we expected them to be like but it’s really rough. If we can even see 6 feet ahead it would be a miracle.”

A miracle was something they were all desperate for and before they knew it the race had been red flagged - deemed too dangerous to race so all of the teams were in their garages coming up with ways to entertain themselves.

You had made your way out of the McLaren garage to join Daniel who was wandering up and down the pitlane looking for a way to cause havoc.

You crept up to him and grabbed his shoulders and shouted: “boo,” in his ear causing him to jump up in shock and scream. You and many witnesses were doubled over in laughter as the Australian held his hand to his chest.

“I just came to say -” You started, “That you looked like you were about to do something mischievous and I wanted in on whatever your plan was.”

Dan looked at you with complete adoration in his eyes, a lopsided grin formed on his face. At that moment, he had never loved you more. It was a strange feeling that he couldn’t quite describe - it was just one he felt warming up his entire body. One thing he had always adored about you was the way you understood him - at the beginning of the relationship he knew you had found it hard to deal with his childish, devil may care attitude. As soon as you relaxed more around him, you two became more comfortable with one another - you decided to try his way of living. Letting fate take you to your next adventure and enjoying the unpredictability of it all. From your first adrenaline seeking adventure Dan had managed to persuade you to join him in - he knew he had found his partner in crime. Most importantly, Dan had taught you a way of living that was more enjoyable, a way of living that allowed you to get more out of life and push your comfort zone right to the limit.

“I have a few ideas.” He smirked, then grabbed your hand twirling you around as though you were ballroom dancing.

“What are you doing?” You giggled, the corners of your eyes crinkled as he pulled you into his chest, guiding one of your hands to rest on his shoulder as he grasped the other in his and held them up as though you were dancing the waltz; finally placing his hand on your waist.

“I don’t suppose you would have seen it but in 2015, the American qualifying was cancelled due to rain and to pass the time I danced with my teammate. I figured I would make a tradition of it.” He explained, twirling you around again.

“Did Lando not want to dance with you?” You questioned, the corners of your lips quirked up. Daniel stopped and took a step back. For a moment you thought you had said something wrong but then a spray of water splashed up the front of your coat. Gasping, you wiped the water from your face and Daniel’s smug smile came into focus. You looked down to where he was standing and saw a gaping hole that had now filled up with water.

“You little-” You had begun, a smile betraying you entirely as it crept upon your features. You wanted to pretend to be angry but he had caught you off guard.

“I thought that you would be a nicer dance partner - but apparently not.” He retorted, biting down on his lip in an attempt to stifle his laughter at your facial expressions. You looked at him and then down at the puddle, back at Daniel and then decided what your next move would be; before you could however he had picked you up over his shoulder, spinning around happily.

“Daniel-” You protested, having to close your eyes to avoid feeling motion sick. You heard him chortle then give in as you felt your two feet touch the ground once again. You pouted at him, strands of hair now stuck to your forehead - it was a sight to behold. Daniel’s heart skipped a beat, his breath becoming shallower as he brushed the loose strands of hair from your face. He had decided at that moment that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, he was ready to start the next chapter of his life with you. It would be a brand new adventure and probably the scariest yet.

“Marry me.” He mumbled, brushing his thumb over your cheek. He froze, an idea sparked, turning on his heel he fled in the direction of the McLaren garage.

Your eyebrows drew together in confusion, your heart thumping against your ribs. Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you glanced around you only to realise the whole of the pitlane and grandstand of fans had fallen silent - watching on in anticipation. Had they heard what he had said? How could they have, Daniel had muttered so quietly even you had struggled to hear the words that tumbled from his lips. Little did you know, a camera had caught every moment and you were now the sole focus as you waited for Daniel to come back.

Moments later and he was running out of the McLaren garage, something in his left hand. You squinted to get a better look, from where you were standing all you could see was a flash of blue - but as he came closer you realised what he was holding was in fact a Haribo packet.

Your hands flew to cover your mouth, you knew exactly what he was about to do. You were fighting back tears of joy as he opened the haribo packet and pulled out a gummy ring, got down on one knee and said: “Marry me. Our new adventure, just you and me. My partner in crime.”

Tears ran down your cheeks as you nodded fervently, words appearing to fail you. You flung your arms around his neck. There was an eruption of cheer from around you, as fans whistled and clapped and fellow teams called out in congratulations.

You placed a hand either side of Daniel’s face, tears shone in his eyes. To most a gummy ring would seem immature - laughable even but to you, it confirmed to you how much you loved the man standing in front of you. The gummy ring he had presented to you meant so much more than being a Haribo. It represented you both as a couple. A love that was unconditional and would never get old and yet whilst you both would age - the love you had for one another would stay youthful, unpredictable and exciting.

You were more than ready to start the next chapter of your adventure with the man you loved most.

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normally-alexis · 4 years ago

Text

||Choked up

Pairings - Wilbur x Reader

Warnings - Heavily implied NSFW, Gore-related topics, knife kinks, spitting kink, Pain kink.

Summary - Nights before L'manburg was destroyed and Wilbur went insane you meet up with him and stay over.

Word Count: 1927

L'manburg was pretty much peaceful even though Dream and everybody else didn't want it on the server. It wasn't really bothering anybody so far even though some people, it's mainly just a place to get out of the tough rules of the smp.

You hadn't got into much trouble since you were partially on dream smp's side even though you switch sides pretty often. Whichever side would win you would switch to that side because you didn't want to pick sides you'd be a villain in either's eyes.

Hanging out with Tommy was fun even though he was three years younger than you. It wasn't weird since you both had a strong relationship with Wilbur and Philza. Philza was a father figure to all of you even though you weren't in the slightest related.

Growing up with Wilbur and Techno as best friends was pretty amazing, they taught you a few things throughout your teenage years. Philza before adopting Tommy was nicer to the three of you manly you and Techno.

Being the only female was different, you didn't have special perks as a kid, you were treated like a boy just with fewer responsibilities. Thinking back from when you were a kid towards now it was very rare for people to have kids on the smp. People just adopted children when you think about it.

Techno wasn't really in the Dream smp anymore he was with Philza somewhere out there. Tommy and Tubbo were kids and nobody really wanted them to do anything, they were still sorta young so they just joined L'manburg.

Nothing to stress about at the moment, still being one of the youngest adults of the smp gave you very few privileges. You had to take advantage of them while they lasted at the moment. Since it wasn't safe to live in L'manburg or on the Dream smp you had a bunker underground.

Why wasn't it safe? Anybody who picks sides cannot change that side, if you were on L'manburg's side you would be a big target considering you did have a private association with Dream.

You were underground sorting out some armor and some blueprints, you always have to move a lot if anybody ever saw you so why not be prepared? You kept sketching and erasing multiple times until you age up and burnt it.

The smoke was pretty bad to inhale so you move to an area where there wasn't much smoke at. It's pretty much clouding up the bunker and you start coughing, it's not that bad so you grab a potion and throw it on the burning blueprints.

It's not clouded up anymore even though you could have let it burn out. You drop your armor and weapons on the ground because you wouldn't be needing it at the moment. making your way over to your seat you sit down and look at all the notes in your notebook.

Flipping through the pages seeing if you found any notes you probably had written but most likely forgot were noted down. You stop at a page because it wasn't remembered from last time, it's a note from an anonymous person saying to come to the back of L'manburg.

You look back to see if anybody's there even though there's clearly nobody there. It must have been written early when you had left out. You push your chair out and then stand up, You take a moment and hesitate to think if you should do it or not.

It's a win and lose situation but what's life without a few risks? You leave from the seating of the area and walk over towards the ladder. Before climbing up the ladder you turn the lights off not wanting to draw any unwanted attention.

You grab onto the ladder and push yourself up placing your legs on the ladder, you climb up the ladder. Once you reach the top you push the top open and the trap door was forced open, you place one hand on the ground and place another hand on the ground.

You push yourself up and get on the top of the surface part of the ground. You take a small breathe and close the top. You push yourself up from off of the ground, you knew where L'manburg was since it was a pretty often visit.

You move throughout all the leaves and in vines, it's pretty normal to walk through it all. A few thoughts crossed your mind thinking about it, Dream wouldn't try contacting you that way he'd just catch you in the middle of the Dream smp and pull you to the side.

Thinking about meeting in L'manburg it would only be Tommy, Tubbo, Wilbur, Eret, Fundy, or Niki. It's not really Important who invited you but you really did want to know. You walk over to the area of the Dream smp and pass Tommy's house. It's pretty abandoned but you didn't bother starring at it too long.

You walk past it and walk towards the bridge that usually leads to L'manburg, you stop for a moment and hear a singing noise. It's not anywhere in sight per say but it's loud enough to hear. It's within the walls beside you and you put your ear on the wall.

It's more of a humming sound, you remove your ear from the wall and roam your hands along it. You hit a button along the wall not surprised but the wall opens up and the humming is more clear.

You enter inside of the cobblestone room not really expecting anything. The floor made a little sound when you entered inside of the room. You look on the ground and there's a few blood clots on the floor and some guts along with it.

You cover your mouth backing yourself backing into the corner. You sorta had a dislike of blood, not Hemophobia but it wasn't your favorite to be in a room filled with something dead. You look up and see Wilbur finishing cutting something up.

He already heard you since you had entered the room. He turns around and removes his gloves which were stained with blood. It's not a human thankfully but it's a dead animal, still very uncomfortable in this situation.

Wilbur looks up at you not very surprised up at the moment, " What's wrong?" The whole display itself was wrong. You uncover your mouth smelling all the disgusting rotting corpses, "You're killing animals and letting them rot," How is he not disgusted? You roam around the room seeing more dead animals.

Wilbur tries explaining himself while coming towards you, but you get very distracted by all the blood splatter on the ground and much more graphic stuff. You weren't looking at him meaning that he knew your attention wasn't on his apology.

He grabs your hair and tugs on it making you shift your attention at him. Pulling and tugging on your hair really hurt because it's like being forced by Wilbur. As tough as you seemed whenever you had armor on being without armor is a completely different story.

"What's wrong tell me, you had a lot of nerve coming from somebody who would fuck literally anybody attractive enough," It's very weak of you to get degraded by somebody who doesn't even know how to defend himself.

"Or anybody who even found you attractive," You knew your worth but whenever somebody tells you something about criticizing yourself you'd just believe it and fix yourself. Was he right? You can't answer that yourself.

You had gone pretty silent and it causes Wilbur to get more aggressive with you. He knees your in your stomach not damaging your internal organs but it just made you feel weak and you tremble on your knees.

You grip onto your stomach squeezing it together, He's treating you like complete shit. He stops kneeing you and he pinches your cheek practically teasing you. You weren't even supposed to be meeting Wilbur at the moment.

Responding would get you in trouble and not responding would get you in more trouble. He's very agitated at the moment and he grabs the pocket knife from his pocket putting it towards your thigh.

"Can I Carve our Initials on your thigh," He asks you, You weren't too fond of punishment but you did like the attention being craved. You nod your head slightly and he removes his hand from your hair.

He grabs onto your thigh and you fall down stinging your back. He slowly starts carving your initials on your thigh, you don't make the loud noises you want to because he'll just end up cursing you out.

You wanted to curse so badly even though you liked it when he inflicted the pain, But why was it only acceptable when he did it. He was only done carving the 'W' halfway, you flinch and he messes up.

It a swerved 'W' and it looks very crossed out, He's upset with you and gets up from squatting. You try communicating with him, "Wilbur?" He's not necessarily listening to blocking out the thoughts.

He puts his foot in between your legs pushing it further near your shorts, His shoes against your clit. You can't tell what his original thoughts are, before you can even react he kicks you in your side. You fall on your face gripping onto your lower half, it's like a period without the loose blood clots.

He squats down and grabs onto your hair pulling you up making you look up at him, "Such a slut aren't you darling?" He spits on your face and it drips off of your face on the ground, is this really who you were such a despite slut that you would let a man do this to you?

Most definitely, you try smiling at him but it's a half-smile since you were in pain. "You holding up good slut?" He asks while looking you in your eyes, you nod as a response and try getting off of your sides.

You weren't damaged that badly you could always heal from it... He lets go of your hair once you were stable enough to stay on your knees. He takes his belt off and takes his pants down, he places the belt around your neck and ties it.

He takes his boxers off and grabs his dick which was already erected due to sadism. "C'mon slut, suck," He tugs on the end of the belt and you put your mouth on his dick, following rules in such a bad position in your life. Never would you have thought you would be sucking off Wilbur..

You take it slow at first not wanting to rush it since you weren't experienced as much, you mainly focus on the tip of his cock and rub your tongue over and over on his slit. Whenever he feels like he would release something he tugged on the belt making you gag on him.

It was hard to take him and focus on not being choked up by his belt, He's not the strongest of keeping his moans in. He climaxes inside of your mouth and some gets on your cheek, He wipes the semen off of your face.

"Is this okay darling?" he kisses your cheek and helps you clean yourself up, at least he did aftercare..

#wilbur soot smut #dsmp smut #x reader #mcyt x reader smut #mcyt smut #dream smp smut

787 notes · View notes

blisschi · 3 years ago

Note

Hi, can i request a zhongli x male reader angst to fluff hanahaki au where male reader was a God a long time ago who died to hanahaki because of zhongli and guizhong, but male reader is resurrected as a mortal and zhongli sees them again

Hey! I'm not completely sure if that is what you meant nonnie, but this idea was stuck in my head for a while now and I just had to write it! It's certainly not one of my best pieces but.. I hope you like it.. 💕

🌸In another life🌸

Pairing: Zhongli x Hanahaki! M! Reader

Warnings: Major Character Death, Angst to Fluff..? I think.. It's really bittersweet.

Notes: u_u ... I can't english

Zhongli turned his head towards the storyteller, who clearly caught his attention with the words that just left his mouth. Although for most people it was unknown, forgotten, Zhongli never forgot a single event in the story he started.

"Once upon a time, there was a young god who loved every creature in Tayvat."

He lowered the cup that he was holding, focusing his attention on the words of the story.

They always started out the same.

"The god that loved every creature in Tayvat, the same god that would offer everything to everyone by his love, lost life."

They always ended the same way.

Zhongli closed his eyes and took a deep breath, remembering the moment he met the young man with a smile on his face.

The man told him that he was visiting Liyue out of sheer curiosity, and that he was coming back to it out of curiosity as well.

"Do you think I could be any kind of a threat to you?" You laughed softly, turning your head towards your friend. Although you were a weak god and you were far from strong, somehow the Geo Archon decided to devote a moment of his attention to you. The moment that sprouted into feeling.

Morax smiled slightly and walked closer to you, gazing out at the sea of clouds.

"Things that are dangerous, not often have to look like a threat."

Just like love.

Love can be beautiful, but won't it turn into poison in the blink of an eye as soon as you lose control of it?

Like flowers, can delight with their amazing charm, when their roots must dig into the very center of the heart, almost breaking it.

"He taught him to understand."

"The young god introduced himself by the name [Y / N]. He befriended Rex Lapis, despite different views and observations." The storyteller continued.

Zhongli looked down at his cup, half full of tea. His mind was full of the thoughts he always chose to leave to himself. He thought that from the mortals, he probably would never hear this name again.

Morax sighed softly, smiling as you pulled his hand along the fields of flowers. He never really understood why you loved them so much, but he could accept that the time you spent with them made you feel relaxed.

"You have some really beautiful plants here, you know?" You laughed as you let go of his hand and ran to one of the trees, immediately sitting under it. The other male calmly approached you and watched as one of the butterflies sat on your finger.

Maybe it was your charm that all creatures loved so much? Until then, he was unable to answer this question. Why did he choose to protect you? Is it because he really thought you were a dear friend to him? Maybe it was because you seemed so vulnerable and weak, just making him feel pity.

You lifted your hand up, showing the creature to your friend. It's wings were golden that gleamed like the light of the setting sun.

"It's so small. but it was not afraid to sit on my finger.. just like I was not afraid to make contact with you, Morax." Glistening pupils looked at you now, taking their attention away from the butterfly. "If you wanted to, I would have been lying underground a long time ago. If you only thought that I was a threat.. ha.."

You laughed softly as you watched the butterfly fly away from your sight.

"You wouldn't hesitate to attack me, would you?"

"He taught him to look up to the future."

Sometimes being weak has its advantages. Not everyone sees you as their enemy, the stronger will usually ignore you, or offer help caused by feelings of pity. Pity over your existence and weakness.

Where do you see this land in a few hundred years, Morax? It was one of your first questions to him that he had to think seriously about. Of course, he cared about Liyue, but admittedly he never thought about what everything would look like in the future.

Will he still dominate these beautiful landscapes? Will he still be able to be called their Archon?

"He taught him to take care."

Zhongli smiled, closing his eyes. He would never have thought it would end this way. True, his life was not over, but the divine era certainly came to an end. People, although weak - will cope.

A soft laugh broke the silence in the room as you ran one hand through the god's hair. This was one of those days where you spent time together, without any worries. You gently braided Morax's hair, smiling to yourself.

"Maybe you should wear this hairstyle more often?" You asked, gently tangling some pieces of flowers into his hair. He just closed his eyes and relaxed in the feeling of your touch. Your hands always seemed extremely delicate. "No? The great god who rules over all Liyue doesn't have time to spend a few minutes making a hairstyle?"

"I didn't say anything." The man sighed and turned to face you. "Why should I worry about a trivial thing like my hair?"

You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head slightly, apparently surprised by his answer.

"Isn't it nicer to look at Liyue when everything is in its place?" You asked, getting up from the ground and placing both of your hands on his shoulders. "If you take care of every smallest element.. eventually these elements will fit together and create perfection.. No matter if it is the perfect weapon.. power.. or hairstyle.."

You were happy watching your friend become attached to more people. At first you enjoyed it, you thought you helped him open up to the world. On your journey together, you met a large number of amazing beings, but suddenly one goddess appeared that seemed to take the person dearest to you away.

"The young god taught him feelings that Rex Lapis did not understand before. He helped him open up to new things, to new people."

Zhongli gritted his teeth as he remembered the rest of the story. Even though you taught him so much, he still understood so little back then.

"[Y / N] had feelings for Morax stronger than to any other being. But it was not his will that made the love strong." The storyteller continued, drawing the attention of more people. "For one-sided love is the strongest. For one-sided love hurts the most."

Goddess of dust, beautiful and gentle, good-hearted and wise. She was a weak god, just like you, maybe that was why Morax had paid more attention to her back then? Maybe he forgot that in fact your strenght was nothing, but his presence near you. He spent every free moment with the goddess. You dreamt that he could give you more attention, but apparently it was not given to you.

You taught him so much and all he offered you was jealousy. Jealousy was eating you from the inside as you saw the goddess slowly pull Morax towards her. It hurt your heart when you had the opportunity to meet a man less and less. But you yourself didn't have the heart to stop it all, because you knew that this goddess meant well for him.

You understood that it was easy to fall in love with someone like him.

"The years passed, the gods drifted apart. The young god was helping Rex Lapis to understand the newer and newer feelings that the goddess had helped him to experience this time."

You understood that you are not the only one who deserves this feeling to be returned.

Zhongli shook his head and opened his eyes, staring at his reflection in the already cold tea. If he knew you thought so.. If he knew he was slowly breaking your heart while spending time with the goddess, it would have all ended differently.

Anyway, it never came out of his mouth that they were 'just friends', it never came out of his mouth that they were something more..

Zhongli clenched his fist, remembering your last moments with him. He remembered your tears, your painful, but smiling face.

"Over time, his feelings did not diminish, but bloomed like the flower buds that he admired so much on his first visit to Liyue. The feeling became unbearable, breaking his heart, hurting him, making him even weaker. The young god then wanted the feeling of love to become something alien to him. "

He remembered you asking him to tell you one of the old stories that he once told you at the beginning of your friendship.

"Why do you suddenly want to hear it? I must say, it's not one of the most interesting ones.."

You laughed quietly, but apart from the laughter, a choked cough escaped your mouth, which you tried to hide with all your might.

"It just.. this story really brings me good memories.. remember? You told it to me when we were sitting under the same tree.. years ago.."

Morax closed his eyes and leaned against the tree, staring up at the sky.

"Well then.."

Zhongli stared at his hands placed on the table in front of him. If he himself lost his life, would he be able to meet you again?

"It was their last meeting. The young god left after him nothing but flowers, which slowly choked him from the inside. Rex Lapis never lost the abilities he had received from his friend. Rex Lapis never forgot, he carried his feelings to the end. One can only hope that after the death of the God of Geo, the two met again."

"Master Zhongli, right?" A soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts, making him look up at the person that called his name. "Can I sit here?"

A joyful smile on the face of a stranger, unusually similar to the smile of a young god who left this world many years ago. The same gaze, that looked at his face with love and affection.

Zhongli nodded slightly, not taking his eyes away from the face of the newly met person.

"I see you here a lot, so I figured I'd introduce myself!" The male laughed, painting a smile on Zhongli's face as he reached towards the consultant. "[Y/N]."

"Maybe in another life, they'll be happy together'."

695 notes · View notes

whumperooni · 4 years ago

Note

Mr.Natsuo being your teacher and you purposely flirt with other boys as wear really short skirts in his class to make him ✨jealous ✨and horny , he asks to see you after class and you get fucked on his table 🥺🥺 Sorry I’m on my period and I’m going feral 😃

No, no- never apologize for this! It makes me feral too ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ Natsuo Sensei, please come get this pussy ♡

tags/warnings: teacher/student relationship, teacher kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, manipulation, improvised gags

A/N: I wrote Natsuo a bit more rough than I normally do, but I think it turned out okay;;; I also abused the words professor, doctor, sensei, and teacher;;;;

But. Ya know.

Enjoy! ♡

You were fucked the moment you walked into his classroom. Introduction to Human Anatomy and Physiology. 2:30 pm, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Led by Doctor Natsuo Todoroki. An insert into your schedule that seemed harmless enough. Interesting, surely. Something you were a little worried about- what if you turned out squeamish despite your love for all things horror and gore?- and something that would just fill your first semester of college. Harmless. Routine for your major. Nothing to give you any sort of fuss or throw you into a flustered little mess. Or, so you thought. Honestly, you hadn’t given much thought to what your professor might be like. You were more worried over having to share a dorm room with a stranger, if you could handle your class load, how hard it might be to adjust being away from home and all you’ve ever known. You suppose your mind’s eye might have conjured a vague image of a wrinkled and wizened old man with a stern gaze and whitened hair. You suppose you might have faintly imagined Doctor Todoroki to be a tired geezer in a lab coat and faded sweater vest. You suppose you might have had the predetermined, unconscious notion that your professor would be intelligent, elderly, stern and, well, someone who you would only think about in terms of being someone to give you tests and homework and lectures. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to find a smiling, young man with a handsome face and thick thighs, big arms. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to lock eyes with your professor and immediately go weak in the knees under a stormy gaze and a sunshine smile. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to only have your breath snatched away, your cheeks flared with a flush, your heart forced into a thundering staccato. You didn’t think that Doctor Todoroki would be hot. But, oh god- oh god- he’s gorgeous. Doctor Todoroki- well, Doctor Natsuo or even professor; he seems to prefer those much more than his family name- is, honestly, a living, breathing wet dream. He’s hot. He’s kind. He’s friendly. He’s funny. He’s perfect. The class that you thought would be only mildly interesting turns out to be your favorite. How could it not be when you’re blessed with a full hour of delicious eye candy, a teacher that’s so generous with his praise and has your spine tingling whenever he says your name? He’s so friendly and he’s so polite, too. The way he calls you Miss is a little old fashioned, sure, but it sends your mind reeling and your cheeks flushing- quick fantasies zipping through your thoughts as your thighs involuntarily push together. Your crush springs up from the moment you see him and it only gets stronger with each passing day. Little accidental brushes against you, the smiles he sends your way, the scent of his cologne whenever he leans over your table to correct an answer, the way his praise rings in your ears late at night- it all sends you spiraling. You’ve never had a crush quite like this before. Certainly not on a teacher. You want him, though. Oh, god, do you want him. Your roommate is the unfortunate one that has to hear you whine and moan over him- you’re much too embarrassed to admit your crush to your friends back home or any of your family; they’d be sure to scold you, to call you foolish and chide that you’re a silly little girl. She understands it, at least. That helps, keeps you from being too ashamed. “I mean, it’s no surprise you’ve got a thing for him,” she muses. “He’s young. He’s hot. Anyone would get a little crush.” You don’t like that thought, really. You don’t want to think about others lusting after your sensei. “Why not try shooting your shot?” At your scandalized look, she huffs and shrugs, rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on,” she scoffs. “No need to be such a good girl. Professors hook up with their students all the time. You just gotta be discreet.” “I can’t,” you protest- shaking your head and pulling your knees up to your chest. “And it’s not like he- he doesn’t see me in that kind of way.” “You don’t know that,” she counters with a click of her tongue. Another huff leaves her and it’s easy to see that her patience with the situation is waning. “Either feel it out or get over it or find someone else to moon over. There’s no point in moping and stewing.” You’re not moping. You’re just- you’re just- Okay, you’re mooning over him like she said. But you’re not moping. It’s just- it’s such a new situation for you. You’ve always had crushes on your peers- never anyone older than you by more than a year or two, never anyone in a position of authority over you. A taboo situation like this has never been your cup of tea- you’ve always been a good, sensible girl. Crushes on teachers have never been something you thought to entertain. But now? Well, now... You bite your lip and eye your reflection, nervously touch up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. It’s light and simple but pretty and sweet. Stalking Professor Natsuo’s social medias helped you gain the insight that he seems to prefer his women more natural and cute, innocent looking- all glossy lips and doe eyed, fluttering lashes with just the barest hint of mascara and blush. The false lashes might be a bit too much, but they make you look even more doll like and, that too, is something he seems to like. Pretty. Simple. Doll like. Sweet. Young. You think you’ve managed to put that look together rather nicely. The pleated skirt- just shy of rising above your knees- and the soft cardigan help, too, and, really, you don’t think you’ve ever looked quite so innocent before- even when you were a wide eyed, straight A, pure and untouched student back in high school. ...god, what are you doing? A groan leaves you and you nearly scrub the makeup from your face, nearly rip off the skirt and switch it out for the leggings you have stuffed inside your backpack. Nearly. You don’t think that this is really going to work. You don’t think that this is really going to draw any sort of reaction from him. And, well, maybe that’s what you need? Maybe you need to truly see that it’s a fruitless desire- maybe then it’ll shrivel up and away and you’ll be free from your sinful fantasies, free from the desire that has your head spinning. And, well, it’s been a while since you’ve dressed up a little, too- the rigors of college have had you leaning more toward comfort than style, have kept you too tired and busy to give time to makeup and skirts and a polished appearance. It feels kind of nice being all cute and attractive instead of frumpy and disheveled. ...you’re not going to change. You deserve to feel nice and you’re dying- desperate- to see how your professor will react to you looking nicer than the tired lump you usually display. Just act normal, you tell yourself as you head toward the class- clutching your textbooks tight to your chest. Don’t be too hopeful. Don’t be too excited. Don’t get disappointed. Just- just think of it as an experiment. That’s all it is, right? Just an experiment! You’re just putting a hypothesis to a test! (What a load of crap. It does help to calm your fluttering, nervous heart, though) You swallow as you approach the room and take a deep breath to steady yourself, bite your lip as you eye the open door. You can hear him rustling around and you know that the others will be around soon- you can’t just keep standing there like a dumbstruck, coltish fool. Another swallow, another deep breath. You walk into the room and fix a nervous smile on your face, chirp out a nearly stuttered “Good afternoon, Professor.” He’s faced away from you- broad back greeting your vision as he scrawls something across the blackboard. His head turns, though, and you get to hear an absent “good afternoon” replied back, you get to watch his gaze fall on you. His hand pauses. His snowy lashes blink once, twice, three times. Surprise flickers over his face- evident enough that you can catch it without doubt. His eyes flick down and back up so quickly that you almost miss it, dart away whenever your smile shrugs off its nervousness and grows ever so sweetly. You sit yourself down front and center- right in front of your sensei’s desk. He doesn’t look back at you as you organize your books and gear. He doesn’t look back at you as you primly cross your ankles and rest them to the side, drag a curious, studious gaze along his back. You had hoped for a response, but you hadn’t really expected it- Professor Natsuo has been kinder and more friendly and open than your other teachers, yes, but he’s still been professional. He’s never crossed any boundaries and you’ve never see him give another student the once over. This is...promising. Your cheeks stay flushed as the other students file in, but your anxiousness is gone away. Sure, that little look doesn’t really mean anything but now you’re...well. Now you’re curious. Desperate and needy for some validation of your silly little fantasies, but curious too. Could you...would he...? You wet your lips, unthinking, and keep your eyes on Doctor Natsuo throughout the class- analyzing his behavior, absorbing his words, taking in how his gaze finds you a bit more often than it usually does. Interesting. Encouraging. The next day you wear a skirt that’s a little bit shorter, don sweet mary janes and ankle socks decorated in lacy frills. Steel grey eyes dart to your legs more than once during the class and you even catch your professor tracing his eyes over your hips when he thinks you’re not looking- his reflection in the shining convex mirror hanging above your dissection table showing guilt, an almost nervous tilt to his lips. Oh, you’ve got him. But how do you proceed...? Your worries and frets and protests over taboo desires are long gone- they got dashed away with the first blink of his long lashes, with the first glance over he had given you. Really, you should feel ashamed over discarding your morals so easily, but it’s an exciting situation, isn’t it? It’s nothing you would ever think to find yourself in. But college is all about new, exciting situations, right? It’s about taking chances. God, you hope this is really a chance for you- you’ve never had the opportunity to play a coy game like this before. It’s...fun. High school would have been a lot more interesting if you had known this kind of thrill. You come home smiling ear to ear after a successful attempt at making Doctor Natsuo blush. (A sway of your hips, a flit of your slowly shortening skirts, a coo of his name as you thanked him for such an interesting lesson, a sweet smile and your fingers daring to skim ever so lightly and quickly over his wrist as you walked out of the classroom) The smile on your face has your roommate’s brow quirking, but one look at your outfit has her lips pulling into a smirk- something near gloating on her face. “You shooting your shot?” she asks, already knowing the answer. “Something like that.” You plop down on your bed, smile waning but still present- content as you let yourself get comfortable. She doesn’t offer any more conversation and you’re okay with that- mind fixating instead on how you could possibly further things with your sought after teacher. Things are good, for now- much better than you had ever thought they would be. The little forays into flirtation have been fun, exciting and they’ve even helped boost your confidence- something you hadn’t realized was sorely needed. It’s been fun. And it stays fun- the short skirts, the girly lilt you find yourself injecting into your voice, the soft makeup and sweet perfume, the way you always leave the class with wet panties and a vibrating exciting buzzing through you, the way your teacher’s eyes can’t help but dart over you, the way he breathes in just a bit deep when you get a little too close, the way he swallows whenever you so lightly purr his name- it all stays fun. Fun, but...frustrating. After a while it gets frustrating. Because he doesn’t do anything, not really. He stays a proper, good teacher- something you give props to him for- and he never returns your gentle flirtations, the subtle and silent invitations you push his way. He’s so...professional. It’s kind of a turn on- kind of. It’s mostly just...frustrating. You find your lips dipping into a pout more and more, find yourself sulky and downtrodden. Sure, this has been fun and interesting but you...you want more. You want him. You need him. You’ve needed him for so long it seems. You find your muffled ministrations in the shower getting more and more frantic- your fingers pumping into your cunt relentlessly but giving you none of the relief you seek. When you are able to cum, it’s always with a whimper of sensei or doctor or professor- sometimes even a daring Natsuo. You get restless and impatient, desperate and a little hopeless. If your teacher senses or sees that, he doesn’t say anything- in fact, his gaze seems to avert from the feverish look in your eyes, he seems to pull away from your bold, reckless attempts to get closer to him. That hurts. That makes you angry. That makes you feel stupid. But he still wants you- or, at least, he still finds you tempting. You know he does- he can’t hide the way his eyes fall on you whenever you walk into the room, he can’t hide the quick glances he lays over you when he thinks no one else can see. You see his hesitance and want. You see it. ...if he’s not going to act on his desires, if he’s going to resist, then you’re going to kick things up a notch- someone has to; you can’t live with this stalemate any longer. It’s not a punishment, not really- it’s just throwing in his face what he’s missing out on. (My, whenever did you become so reckless and cruel? When did you become so desperate?) The ratio of boys to girls in the class is quite staggering- something one would think the university wouldn’t allow for fear of lawsuits. There are three boys for each girl- ambitious, studious, virginal, frantically horny things with expectations piled high on their shoulders and stress wracking their every thoughts. (It wouldn’t be unfair to say they you’re just like them- just sans the virginal part, double the stressed and horny part to make up for it) They’re good boys, for the most part- friendly and tired, nice but none of them quite to your taste or striking enough to jar your fixation from your sensei. Some of them are even handsome- which makes this a lot easier. “Oh, you brought me coffee? Thank you so much, Dai-chan! You’re so sweet!” The kiss you lay upon your classmate’s cheek makes him blush and fluster. It also makes your dear teacher stare- eyes wide and brow furrowed when you flick your gaze his way, his lips twitching as if he’s not sure if he wants to frown or not. The soft giggle you let out does bring a frown- something that deepens whenever one of the other boys comes over to grab your attention, try his hand. You should have thought of using them earlier on- they’ve been eager enough to try to flirt this whole time. Doctor Natsuo, for his part, doesn’t say or do anything- of course he doesn’t. But his usually happy temperament turns a bit tense, a little sour. He doesn’t lash out, not really, but you can see the way his teeth grit and his brow puckers whenever one of the boys dares to lay their hand on your arm, the small of your back. Good, you think- vicious and bitter, sour yourself. Get jealous. “What the fuck is up with Todoroki lately?” “Dude, did you hear how he snapped at Araka?” “Do you think something happened? He seems...stressed.” Your classmates trade hushed whispers as they flee the room, but you don’t think to join them- you stay quiet and soak in their quiet gossip, smile sharply without a look back to your grimacing, frustrated sensei. Just a little more. At this point, you’re not even sure what you want from him- an admittance of his own desires, him hurting and annoyed? You don’t know. You just want something to happen- you need something to break this little silent game apart. You think and think and think over what could raise the situation to the breaking point and, finally, you settle on something simple. The night before your Thursday class, you invite over one of your classmates- Eita; one of the more attractive ones, one of the less nervous ones. Your roommate is gracious enough to stay away (thanks to your offer of money for booze and weed and help with her homework) and you have the room all to yourself. Three beers and some easy flirtations, just a few small touches- that’s all it takes to get what you’re after. You don’t let him fuck you- he’s not worth it, nowhere near what you want- but you let him fumble his hands over you, are kind enough to wrap your hand around his cock while his lips frantically roam and suck over your neck. You don’t let him come until you’re absolutely sure that you have what you want. It reduces him to a whining mess- which, hey, is honestly kind of cute. You rebuff his sweet offers to “return the favor” and send him off with a kiss to the cheek, spend the rest of your night nursing a glass of wine and silently brooding- mind tired and body exhausted, your desires so restless. The next day you dress in a pleated, short skirt that just barely skims the middle of your thighs and fix your hair into a cute little updo, don your now signature mary janes and pull on a brand new pair of knee high socks. The sly comments you get throughout the day are annoying, but easily ignored. You’re impatient through the morning and it only gets worse as Doctor Natsuo’s class creeps closer. You spend the day jittering your leg and biting your lip, checking your phone every few moments and huffing to yourself, clutching at your arms and trying not to pace up and down the school’s halls. Finally- finally- it’s time for your favorite class. You have to force yourself to walk slowly toward it. You have to breathe in deep to quiet your pounding heart, to still your trembling hands. This has to spur something on. You walk into the classroom- skirt swaying, lips hiding your anticipation behind a smile. You ignore Professor Natsuo and make your way to Eita’s desk, plant your elbows on it and rest your chin in your hand, arch your hips up so your teacher can be teased by the sight of your soft thighs and curves, taunted by how just an inch or two of fabric prevents your panties from being flashed. (Is he looking? He has to be looking. He better be looking.) “Eita-kun,” you coo, sweet and loud enough for others to hear, “I had such a good time last night. We should do it again.” Eita’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush. You might enjoy it if you weren’t so distracted by the noise of a coffee cup slamming down and clattering on the desk behind you, if your breathing didn’t hitch so sharply at the fault in your sensei’s composure. Slowly, you straighten yourself to standing and turn around. Professor Natsuo’s face is red and flustered- jealous- when you look and his eyes are narrowed at you, his coffee spilled on the desk. You offer him a sweet blink and a sweeter smile, tilt your head so he can see the blossomed bruise tinting your throat pewter and mauve, a stormy and swirling blue. His eyes widen, his gaze darts behind you. Your smile grows. How do you like that, sensei? Your hands tremble just a little- from nerves, from excitement, from aching anticipation- and you clasp them behind your back to hide them from his gaze, lean forward and peer over his desk. “Are you okay, sir?” you ask him- chirping and so very sweet. “Do you need help cleaning that up?” He stares at you- disbelieving and still so evident in his shock, his envy. Some strangled noise chokes its way up and out of his throat whenever you flutter your lashes his way and smug amusement gathers in you as you watch his jaw tighten, his teeth grit as he tries to gather his composure once more. “No. Sit.” Oh. You’ve never heard him sound like that before. So authoritative, so stern. So hot. It’s your turn to let out a noise- something soft and almost curious, accompanied by flushed cheeks. You obey your teacher and sit down without a fuss- thighs pressing together and already growing damp, lip bitten and eyes half-shut as you watch him silently clean up the coffee. He doesn’t look at you throughout the whole lesson. He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t call on you. He doesn’t smile or laugh or joke around. He’s...cold throughout the class- words iced over and posture rigid, his face holding no warmth at all. You gulp as you listen to him lecture and squirm in your seat- nerves starting to gather and grow despite the way you’re still so very wet between your thighs. You had wanted something to happen. You were determined to force anything to happen. But maybe- maybe you miscalculated. Maybe you fucked up. It’s something of a relief when the class ends. Usually, you like to linger for a few moments, like to stay just a bit longer than necessary so you can grab your teacher’s attention with a question or some sort of compliment over the lesson. Today, though? Today you shoot up from your seat without delay, begin to gather all your supplies as quickly as you can. At least...at least until he says your name. It’s firm, just a little icy. You stiffen at the sound and gulp, look back at him with wide eyes and a nervous smile. Before hearing your name part from your teacher’s lips would send you flying high, but right now...right now your skin is tingling with a giddy apprehension, your fingertips are trembling as you search his face for any hint of what’s to come. “I need to have a word with you,” Doctor Natsuo tells you- eyes boring into yours and keeping you frozen where you stand. “I, um,” you try to weakly protest, “I have to get to my next class...” “It won’t take long.” If he catches your wince, he doesn’t react to it. Professor Natsuo simply leans against his desk as the rest of the students file out- arms folded over his chest, sleeves rolled up to display thick forearms. And you? You stay rooted to the spot- heart pounding and eyes still wide, cheeks flushed and thighs damp. When the last student leaves, Professor Natsuo walks over to the door and closes it shut. Click. W-Wait- did he just- “D-Doctor Natsuo?” you squeak out. “What are you- what are you doing?” “I think I should be asking that question.” Oh, shit. Your teacher turns around slowly and the look he gives you takes your breath away. He looks angry and frustrated. He looks pissed. Pissed, but there’s- there’s something more- there’s- “What-” He takes a step toward you, you take a step back. “- do you think you’re doing, young lady?” The whimper that leaves you is equal parts anxious and needy- soft and unwanted. You probably shouldn’t find the growl in his words so hot. Your knees probably shouldn’t knock together and your pussy shouldn’t throb at the snap of young lady. But it’s- you didn’t expect him to be like this. But you- it’s- A tremble wracks through you and Professor Natsuo takes another step toward you. You bump against his desk whenever you stumble back and flinch at the wood that slams into your lower back, gasp and whimper once more when big hands fall to the table on both your sides, when your teacher brackets your trembling form and keeps you enclosed and captive. His eyes are narrowed. His cheeks are flushed. His cologne smells so nice up close, his height has your lashes fluttering and your breathing shuddering as you’re forced to tilt your head back to look up at him with wide eyes. “S- Sir?” “Don’t sir me,” he snaps, crowding closer to you. “I’ve lost my patience with you playing coy.” He’s lost his patience? Your mouth opens to shoot off something probably very stupid, but the words die as a big, cool hand finds your throat and forces your head to a tilt. The touch is beyond expected, has you crying out softly and gripping onto his shirt, almost hyperventilating. The pin prick retraction of your pupils is dramatic and so is your whimpering exhales but, god, this is not what you had expected. “You’ve been toying with me for weeks now,” Doctor Natsuo growls out, his fingers digging into the hickey on your neck. “All your short skirts and little touches, your shameless flirtations- you’ve been trying to drive me mad, haven’t you?” “Pr- Professor,” you whimper out, thighs rubbing together and a moan threatening to sound. “I just- I just wanted-” “You just wanted some attention,” he huffs out- his other hand gripping at your waist and his knee knocking your legs apart. “You wanted to see what would break me, right? That’s why you came in flaunting this today.” Your teacher’s thigh slots between yours and his fingers push deeper into your bruised flesh, his stormy eyes narrow and take in the way you shudder, how your cheeks flush even darker and your eyes start to turn just a bit glossy. A mewl leaves you- embarrassing and so needy, so helpless- and you whine softly after, try to turn your head away so he can’t see the way all your bravado and confidence is melting away into your selfish, needy, hopeless desires. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he demands- forcing your face back to him. He doesn’t look angry now- just frustrated- and your stuttered little gasp only makes his teeth grit, the way your thighs squeeze his makes his breath in sharp and deep. “Go on- tell me.” You- you can’t. You can’t deny him, can’t lie. Not now that things have finally boiled over, not now that he’s finally confronting you. Not now that you’re about to come just from the feeling of his thigh pressing against your soaked cunt. Not now that you’re so close to moaning and falling into a pleading, begging thing. “I- I had to,” you whine. “You weren’t- you wouldn’t-” “Tch.” The grip on your neck tightens and leaves you whimpering, leaves your fingers curling even tighter into your teacher’s shirt. “I was trying to be a good teacher,” Professor Natsuo grits out. “I was trying to keep from taking advantage of you.” Take advantage of you? You would laugh if it weren’t for your wettening lashes, the way your hips are aching and tightening from trying not to grind over your sensei’s thigh. “Sensei-” “Did you fuck him?” he interrupts- fingers dragging over your hickey and hand gripping your hip tighter, pulling you closer and making you whimper, tremble as your cunt is made to glide over his leg. “Don’t tell me after all this time you settled for a boy like that?” You shake your head the best you can- almost frantic with it, flushed and vaguely angry he would even insinuate that you would hook up with someone after you’ve put in so much effort toward him. “N- No! I wanted- I didn’t want- didn’t want him,” you whine, hips jerking despite yourself, a mewl leaving you whenever your teacher’s breath catches. “Sensei, please-” “Fuck.” The groan that leaves him has your lashes fluttering, your lips parting with a soft whine. The hand on your neck moves to your scalp and buries thick fingers in your hair, messes up your updo and sends your hairtie flying. He ignores the protesting noise that leaves you and looks down at you instead- eyes dark with a need that mirrors your own, nostrils flaring as his breathing turns heavy. “You are so naughty,” Doctor Natsuo growls- one hand curling his fingers into your hair, the other smoothing down your waist and to your spread legs. “Filthy little thing.” Filthy? You’re not- you’re not- The hand at your waist moves to loosen his tie and you whimper when he pops open his top button, when he shifts his hips forward and you feel his cock hard on your thigh. “Pl- please, sensei,” you breathe out in a beg- unplanned and so thoughtless, even overwhelmed. “I- I’ll be good! I won’t tell! I just want- I need-” You cut yourself off with a whine and rock against his thigh, look up at him with your wet lashes and flushed cheeks. He groans whenever you whimper and you clutch at him tighter, try to press against him. “I need you, sensei,” you plead- so soft and so desperate. “I need you. I- I promise I’ll be good. I just- I just-” You whimper once more and he groans, grips your waist and sits you on the table rough enough to make all his pens rattle and shake. He slots himself between your spread legs and buries his fingers back into your hair, presses his mouth against yours so fast and hard that it makes your whole world screech to a screaming halt. Your eyes widen and then slam shut, your body goes limp as you whimper and tremble from the way his tongue traces over your bottom lip. You allow your mouth to open and your teacher groans over it, slips his tongue inside and forces you to bend back as he presses closer toward you. Whenever he pulls his head back from yours, there’s a glistening of spit on his lips, a flush to his cheeks. You squirm under his gaze- suddenly so shy, suddenly so flustered- and whine as he stares down at you, arch your back and gasp whenever he forces your head to the side once more and presses his lips to your throat. It hurts when his teeth dig into the already tender, bruised flesh but it sends your mind reeling, has you mewling and reaching to scratch at his back. “Y- Yes! Please! Cover it! Make that mark yours!” The words fly out fast and without any thought, the begging comes from a place you didn’t realize existed within you. You don’t even realize that you mewled such a thing out until your teacher is groaning against your neck, until he’s muttering a, “Fuck- that’s a good girl” right against your throat. If you weren’t so swept up in the situation, you might feel embarrassed. But, you’re not- you’re just gasping and flushed and made even more needy from the praise, from the way your sensei’s hands drag down your sides to grip your waist. Tears blur your vision and a stuttered breath has you shaking, your nails digging deep into soft fabric and clawing over a broad back. “Doctor Natsuo please!” Another groan from your teacher and his hand slips under your skirt, his fingers push your soaked panties to the side and dip into your sopping cunt. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he growls, curling two thick digits and making you cry out. “Hey- shh, shh. Be good. You promised you were going to be good.” Be good? Oh, fuck, you wanna be good. You bite your lip as your teacher fucks his fingers deep inside you and try so, so, so hard to stay nice and quiet and good. He watches you as you try to muffle your whimper behind your hand and you shake from the way he licks his lips, from the way his lashes lower and his gaze turns approving. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbles. “Good girl. Fuck- turn over.” Professor Natsuo backs away and you can’t quite bite back your whine whenever his fingers leave, can’t quite inject any gracefulness in the way you scramble to comply. He yanks you back whenever you’re on your stomach- has your knees knocking against his desk and your hips arching up. There’s no warning when he grabs the plush flesh of your ass and spreads your cheeks wide. Your face flushes and a soft noise leaves you, your thighs press together as you squirm and whimper. “Cute,” he murmurs, squeezing your butt roughly. “Even better than I imagined.” Imagined? Oh- oh. He- he thought of you. He fantasized about you. Sensei- sensei got off to you. Your cunny clenches and your teacher groans- low and deep and accompanied by the sound of a zipper being pulled down. When you look back over your shoulder at him, his fingers are undoing his tie and you’re left blinking in confusion as he wraps each end around his palms. “Professor...?” “Open your mouth.” You do so without hesitation- lips falling open and fingers curling against the wood of the desk. Professor Natsuo slips his tie between your lips and you whine as it digs into your cheeks, shudder whenever he gives it a tight tug. “Now be a good student for your sensei,” he instructs, gathering the tie in one hand and pulling out his cock with the other. “Quiet and good.” You nod the best you can, but it’s a promise you can’t quite keep whenever his cock nestles between your cunt’s lips, whenever the tip eases into your hole and then slams fully in. You cry out- spit wetting your teacher’s silk tie and his hand laying heavy across your ass, your head getting yanked back whenever he jerks on the tie. “What did I say?” He said- he said to be quiet and good. You have to be quiet and good. A muffled whimper leaves you and you rock your hips back, squeeze around your sensei’s cock with the softest little whine. He groans and his hips pap against you, his dick drives in deep enough to have your toes curling and your lashes fluttering. He’s- he’s big. Bigger than you thought he’d be. Bigger than you dared to imagine. The stretch is- it’s so much. But you’re so wet. You’re so needy. Tiny, strangled whimpers leave you as your professor falls into a rhythm and you shudder, do your best to fuck your hips back against him. That stops whenever he grips your waist with a grunt and you whine softly, still and let your teacher fuck you how he pleases. You take it and you love it, get pushed close to orgasm faster than ever before. You almost collapse when you come on his cock and you hiccup out a whine of pleasure, a muffled mewl of his name. Doctor Natsuo groans as your gummy insides spasm around him and his grip becomes bruising, his rocks get faster- harder. Feels so good! Feels so good! Sensei’s dick feels so good! “Shen- shensay!” “Oh, fuck- god- you’re so tight, baby. Good girl- you like sensei’s cock deep inside you? Is this what you wanted?” You whimper and nod- cheek scrubbing against the desk, cunt gripping his cock like a vice. He grunts and grabs onto your hips, forces your head up and back as the tie drags you and forces your back to arch in a tight, painful angle. Still feels good, though. Still feels like everything you wanted. You want- need- so much more. “Shoulda done this sooner,” your teacher groans out. “Shoulda- fuck!” He slams in you deep enough to have your eyes rolling back, hard enough to have your whole body shaking and your nails clawing across his desk. “C’mon, c’mon- take it- take it! Sensei is- Sensei is gonna fill you up- gonna give that needy cunt what it needs!” He’s gonna- he’s gonna- oh, god! Doctor Natsuo fucks into you faster and faster- the movements jarring you against the desk and making it rock, the jab of his cock rushing you to the height of pleasure again. You cry out as he slams into you- the tie falling from your lips as he drops it and forces you back onto the desk, slides his arms under you and grips your shoulders, fucks into you rough and deep and so, so perfectly. Warmth floods inside your pussy and you whimper as you’re filled with your sensei’s seed, twitch and come on his cock again- lashes fluttering and teeth digging into your lip to muffle your whine, honeyed insides milking his dick as if you need more. You do need more- you do. How could you have ever imagined one time would be enough to satisfy your fantasies? Your teacher pants and grinds into you- hot breath fanning over your cheek and his cock sliding out with a wet pop whenever he draws his hips back. You whimper at the loss but mewl when his fingers draw up your slit, slide back and down onto your knees as exhaustion slips over you. Fuck...fuck, did that just happen? A touch to your cheek has you looking up and you blink hazily at your sensei’s flushed cheeks, the shining and wet cock that he stuffs inside his trousers. “Satisfied?” he asks, slightly breathless and a groan hiding in his voice. “Going to be a good girl now? No more teasing sensei?” You nod, not quite thinking over the action or processing the words, only close your eyes when the slightest smile flits across his lips, when his fingers brush over your cheek and his gaze goes heavy lidded. “Sensei...” His fingers glance over your jawline and down low, stroke over your new hickey and bring a mewl. With your eyes closed, you can’t see the way his expression ripples with something hesitant and something curious, something...greedy. Strong hands help you up from the floor and you shudder as your legs tremble, press against his chest and look up at him with heavy eyes, a yearning that you can’t quite hide. He strokes your hair and it’s...nice. Unexpected from the way he reacted before, so very welcome. “...I was harsh with you.” The apologetic tone is also unexpected. Your professor seems to almost fluster, hesitates as he strokes your hair again and allows his grey gaze to look over your flushed cheeks and parted lips, the desire that you can’t quite hide. “...you were a good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and making you flush even more. “...you gonna keep being good? Not tell?” Of course you’re not going to tell. Of course you’re not going to risk this. You nod without any hesitation and you’re graced with a smile, another kiss that has you wanting to melt against him. “Then in that case...” You blink and watch as he breathes in deep, tilt your head as your heart begins to flutter in your chest. “Come over tonight. I can give you what you want properly.” He wants...he wants you to come over? He wants to fuck you again? You could swear it’s almost a smirk that forms on his face whenever your eyes widen and your breath catches. “I- I...yes, please.” He hums and he steps away- leaving you to stumble slightly and look at him in wonder, an unending adoration that you had pretended wasn’t underneath all your lust for him. “Good. But for now...” Sensei takes a deep breath and then he smiles at you- this time a bit wry, a little amused. “You’re going to be late for your next class.” Next class? Oh- oh shit! A squeak escapes you and you hurry to gather up all your stuff, shove your books in your arms and race toward the door. “Hey.” You freeze as you grab onto the doorknob and nearly tumble into it, look back toward your sensei. “I want you to call me Natsuo when we’re alone.” He- he what? Oh. Oh. You open your mouth, but the trilling of the bell cuts you off and you’re left only with the time to nod and flush, mumble out a soft, “Yes, sir” before you have to rush out the room. You head toward your next class with weak legs and cheeks red from where your sensei’s tie pulled deep into your skin, hair a mess and your teacher’s- Natsuo’s- cum dripping down your thighs. You smile as you rush off to your next class- happy and fucked, eager to see what Natsuo has in store for you later that night.

#natsuo todoroki x reader #rooni's shit #tw breeding kink #Anonymous

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years ago

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Socks

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: toxic relationships, small mentions of death, gaslighting, fighting, and miscarriage

Word Count: 4k (literally exactly 4k, I’m kinda proud)

A/N: Based on the song “1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back” by Olivia Rodrigo as suggested by @vancityfire13, I hope this meets all your hopes and expectations <3 also technically this is my first prompt from someone who’s not me??!

You met Wanda at the library. Your legs crossed, eyebrows scrunched, and bottom lip caught between your teeth, you’d settled in the familiar corner of the library's world languages section. That area was always quiet, which you’d found out after many trips to the library as a kid. When the occasional patron did wander through, perusing the shelves, sometimes they brought family or friends, weaving together sounds and syllables that had to be from another language. It was the only sound you’d tolerate while you were immersed in your reading. Well, to be fully honest, you loved it, wondering what the hushed voices were saying, what stories they were telling. So Wanda’s English was a jarring wake-up call.

“I like your socks.” Her eyes flashed to your ankles, leaving you wondering if she was more drawn to the sky blue color or the characters covering it.

You’d noticed the brunette walking the aisles about ten minutes ago. Unlike most, she ran her fingers along the worn spines, seeming only half-interested in what the titles read.

“Thanks.” Your voice was cold, unwelcoming. She gave you a terse nod before heading off, her footsteps silent against the worn carpet. You thought she was gone.

A week later, you were back at your spot. You’d finally finished the work you’d been putting off for weeks, just about to reward yourself with a reread of Little Women, a book you’d read an uncountable number of times since you were a child. She was an unwelcome interruption.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but-”

“I was looking for a book for my brother. His name is Pietro. Was Pietro. There was a Sokovian fairytale he always loved. Begged my mother to read it to us every night. He could recite it by memory by the time he was five, knew every word. I thought I did too.” Your eyes traced down the curve of her spine. Your mother would have scolded you for standing so poorly.

“I’m sorry for your loss” was all you said, your lips forming a tight line when you finished.

“I couldn’t- I can’t remember the title.”

“I can try to help you find it?” You weren’t sure why you offered, maybe the lost look in her eyes, the growing strength of her accent as she talked, or the way her fingers traced her empty palms. No one should leave a library empty-handed.

“Do you speak Sokovian?” The corners of her eyes creased as you shook your head.

“I suppose you won’t be much help then, will you?” Her words held no bite, only the sadness of a stranger who was trying to hold herself together, her emotions threatening to unravel her at the weakened seams. You matched her facial expression out of sympathy, but she was gone before you had a chance to apologize.

“Do you like Disney?” she had asked you. Her eyes were back on your ankles. You were wearing the same socks as when the two of you first met. You were milliseconds away from answering, your tongue already against the roof of your mouth, ready to shut down the conversation immediately afterward. But then you noticed the way her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers always moving, almost like they were dancing. You sighed. You should be nicer; she’d really done nothing wrong.

“It’s alright.” Your shoulders raised and dropped, your answer purposefully vague. “Did you manage to find the book?” The darkening of her eyes was enough to tell you that, no, she hadn’t found it. “What’s the main character’s name?” Her gaze followed you as you pulled out your laptop.

“Boleslav,” she answered finally. Her gaze was timid, unsure. Why were you helping her? You’d been so closed off before.

“Do you know any major points of the story? The names of the other characters?” Before she could answer, you eyed the pillow that sat next to you. She took a seat.

The two of you poured over Google, eventually finding the story and its location in the library. But by that point, you were too wrapped up in your findings on the Internet to get up. Too wrapped up in each other.

---

Wanda insisted she make it up to you, for finding the book for her.

“For helping me find my brother,” she insisted, pulling you out of the library. If she was anyone else, you would have responded by saying that she could make it up to you by leaving you alone with your books, but she wasn’t anyone else. So you let her tug you out of the building, Mirabelle, the librarian, giving you a wink upon seeing you leaving the building with someone else, soft smiles gracing your faces.

You thought she would’ve brought you to coffee, but it seemed you hadn’t yet developed the ability to understand her. She brought you to the city, a small store on the corner. Socks lined the walls, the different colors and patterns flooding your vision.

“Your Disney ones looked old.” You half-nodded as you scanned the store, your hand going limp in hers. You remembered learning about rods and cones in class ages ago, not quite remembering what each one did but remembering that one of them was involved in seeing colors. Those—whatever they were called—must’ve been on overdrive.

You picked one pair for her, and she, one for you. You wore those socks constantly, slipping them over your feet the second they were out of the wash. You never told Wanda about it, but you didn’t have to; her eyes fell to your ankles every time she saw you, a small smile on her face. You didn’t know if you did it for her reaction or simply because you loved them. Maybe it was both.

---

Wanda drew you into her world. Some might have used the word “yanked” given how quickly your relationship moved. But that made it sound involuntary, as if she’d forced you to move in with her when she’d asked you exactly eight months after your first date. And if you’d known she had powers when you first met her, you might’ve agreed. Maybe she’d entranced you and now you were stuck with her, even if you didn’t really want to be.

But the truth was that you did, you wanted to be with her every second you could. And though magic never left her hands when she was with you, even her name was magic, the way those two syllables rang beautifully in the air as she formally introduced herself for the first time. She spoke English when she talked to you, but you swore that whatever left her mouth was a language of her own, so elegant, sweet, and charming in a way that no English speaker could replicate.

But, one night, her words twisted into daggers, punctuated syllables sharpening into dangerous ends, the beginning of each sentence like a handle she grabbed and used to hurt you further, twist until it was lodged as deeply into your chest as it could go.

You weren’t sure what you did to make it happen. Maybe it was just a bad night. She was drunk, after all, home from some party with the Avengers that you hadn’t gone to. The two of you had talked it over before, though, both agreeing that it was too soon in your relationship to attend anything where it’d be publicly released, which was why you were confused about why she was cursing you out for abandoning her, not being there when you needed her.

You promised that you’d be sure to go next time. Wanda just turned around, dismissing you without another word. You weren’t sure what was worse, the silence or her words. She somehow missed the tears that streamed down your face.

The next day, she knocked on your door. This time, she was the one in tears, the rate at which they fell only increasing when she saw how puffy your eyes were.

“I- I’m sorry,” she bumbled, the sounds tumbling out of her mouth like a barrel coming down the Niagara Falls. She couldn’t have stopped them if she tried. You watched her struggle through an apology, something about her insecurities being magnified as she saw all the other couples around her seemingly happy. She just wanted that. And even though her speech was much more clumsy than the usual effortless diction you were used to hearing from her, you allowed her words to draw you in, provide you shelter from the horrors you’d experienced yesterday, when your heart raced and blood rushed your ears and your palms were so sweaty you couldn’t get a grip on anything. You allowed her arms to draw you in, make you feel safe. You allowed her to bring you home.

---

Wanda saw a side of you that no one had ever seen before. Scratch that, Wanda saw all of you. Where others would’ve looked away or missed the true meaning of your words, she dug deeper. You lived your whole life with a mask on, swapping one out for another to appease those around you. Wanda took them all off.

But she didn’t force them off; she made you want to take them off. You were the one who peeled them off one by one, the experience being extremely unnerving every time you revealed that much more of yourself to her, but you always found yourself relieved at the end. Because she accepted you, she loved you.

Right?

---

You called her once, during a mission. It was something the two of you had been doing ever since you started dating. You would ask how she was doing, make sure she was okay, and she’d do the same for you. Of course, when her missions were off-the-grid you didn’t call, but if the two of you were allowed to stay in contact, she insisted that you guys do so.

“I have to make sure my love is okay,” she’d murmured, just before she left for her first mission since the two of you started your relationship. She was holding you in her arms as the two of you swayed back and forth. Your feet were bare for once, the cold kitchen tile underfoot grounding the both of you. Neither of you had wanted to let go; your hands were clasped firmly together around her waist, and hers rested on top of yours. But eventually, the incessant honking from Tony became too much, and the two of you reluctantly moved apart.

“I’ll call you the second I can, yeah? And make sure you call me in the morning when you wake up.”

“I will,” you nodded as Wanda’s hand came up to brush against your cheek.

But somehow she’d forgotten about your agreement, and nothing but annoyance filled your ear, the phone pressed up against it.

“Y/N, I really don’t have time for this right now.” You sucked in a breath, her tone an instant reminder of that night she’d yelled at you. But that was so long ago. And you hadn’t done anything; there wasn’t a party you’d missed since then, not a moment since then that you’d let her feel alone. Or was there?

“I- I’m sorry,” you stuttered. “Should I call you back later?” All you got was a sigh, doubt and panic filling your chest in the momentary silence.

“We’ll see. Goodbye, milaya.” There was barely a pause in between her voice and the disconnect tone. You weren’t sure if the pet name was sincere or a habit leftover from the good times.

Were you still in the good times?

What went wrong?

Where did you go wrong?

She came back from the mission, and all was well again. She spun you around and around, her melodious giggles filling your ears and causing the corners of your mouth to lift. But you couldn’t help your brows from cinching inwards, wondering where this Wanda had been when you’d called. Was it just another fluke, or maybe something you’d imagined?

“I love you, printsessa, so, so much,” Wanda whispered. You loved the way her smooth voice filled your ears, made you feel whole again. Maybe it was the kitchen? Was that the place she felt safe, the place where she felt like she could love you fully? Maybe that’s why she seemed so closed off during the mission. When you didn’t respond, too lost in thought, she spoke up again.

“Detka, d’you know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me? I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Her eyes sparkled. No red mist emerged from her fingertips, but you swore Wanda’s essence was magic in and of itself. How could you ever deny her?

You surrendered.

“I love you too. More than anything in the world.”

---

The next day, Wanda woke you up with excitement filling her voice, insisting that you come with her to the compound to pick up some of the things she’d left behind.

“I want to show you off,” she’d laughed as she rolled you over.

“We’ve already met, babe. They love me, you’ve said so yourself,” you groaned. She shook her head as she corralled you into the bathroom.

“You haven’t met all of them! Now c’mon, let’s go!” You agreed, and she was right, there were lots of new people there.

“You must be Y/N, right?” You nodded as you shook the man’s hand.

“I’m Clint. I’ve heard, um, lots about you. And your socks.” The two of you laughed at his joke, but something about his chuckle was off. His smile never quite reached his eyes. Wanda whisked you off too soon for you to figure out why though, bringing you over to a rather large man. No, god, he’s a god. Thor, he said. His name is Thor.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you’d responded.

“The love of my life,” Wanda sighed, her voice wispy and dreamy. The god’s eyebrows had raised at that.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you then, Y/N. I didn’t know Wanda was so fortunate as to have a love so strong.” Sometimes you had to remind yourself of that too. “You are very lucky, my friend.” Am I?

You exchanged jokes with Natasha, learned of some of Bruce and Tony’s new projects, listened to stories of Thor’s childhood adventures on Asgard; the night went well. Until it didn’t.

You were yanked into a mostly empty room, the door quickly shut behind you. Was that a flash of red you’d seen in the corner of your eye?

“What did you do?” someone hissed. The voice was familiar, but by this point, you weren’t sure if it filled you with dread or joy when you heard it. Was that part of the excitement of your relationship, trying to figure out the complexities of it all, trying to predict which version of your lover you’d get this time?

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I didn’t do anything, Wanda, I swear!”

“Then why is Clint telling me to break up with you? What did you say to him?” Your head shook, your whole body shook. This was news to you.

“I didn’t say anything. Please, Wan-”

“How am I supposed to believe that, Y/N? Do you really think he’d just make that up out of nowhere?” You tried to find the words, the ones you should say, the ones she’d want you to say. You had nothing. The witch’s anger grew, her hands slamming down on her sides. “God, Y/N! It’s like sometimes I don’t even know who you are!”

But wait, that was how you felt. Wasn’t it? Or had you dreamed that up too? What had you done?

“Wanda, I promise I didn’t do anything. I’ve been friendly to him all night.”

“So you expect me to believe he’s lying, then.” Your eyes fell to her chest, its rise and fall rapid but deep, going up and down several times before she spoke again. “Y/N, he named his child after my brother. Why would he lie to me?” You could do nothing, say nothing to fix this. You weren’t sure exactly what you did, but you’d messed up. Again.

“Maybe he’s right, then.” Her hand ran through her hair, the brown locks that you loved to twist around your own fingers, play with as she laid in your lap, a show playing in the background. You missed those times.

But weren’t you just doing that last night?

You weren’t sure. It seemed like so long ago.

---

Weeks, months, even a year passed. Wanda had apologized for that night at the compound. She’d also apologized for the countless number of other times the two of you had fought since then. But it was okay, you’d thought, because for all those arguments was an equal number of moments where the two of you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe, slow-danced at 3 AM, used your hairbrushes as microphones to sing concerts for your millions of fans. At least, you thought it was an equal number. Did number matter anyway?

Wanda went from being your girlfriend, to being your fiancé, to being your wife. Like Thor had said, you were “very lucky.” You are very lucky. Because right now, you’re looking down at the stick in your hand, and there are two lines, not one. The two of you had done something so many couldn’t; that was a huge blessing. And now you had to tell Wanda.

Finding the box was harder than you thought, but the other part was much easier. All you had to do was go to the store Wanda had taken you to all that time ago, the small store on the corner. And when the brunette lifted open the lid to find a pair of socks so tiny they could only be for one thing, one person, one baby, she knew. She was ecstatic. You were relieved.

Four weeks. Four weeks later from that day was the worst day of your life. Just as quickly as the baby had come, it had gone. He or she was gone. Was it your fault? The doctor had been quick to shut those thoughts down, insisting that there were many factors that could’ve caused the miscarriage, but you certainly weren’t one of them.

But Wanda didn’t talk to you for a whole week, spending the nights in the guest bedroom to avoid you. It was the longest the two of you had gone without speaking. That had to mean something, right?

It did. It meant that it shouldn’t have been a surprise when you came home from work the following Monday to find half of the things missing. All of her things.

The box was still there, though; you saw it out of the corner of your eye. It sat on top of a cabinet, the two socks poking out of the top.

The two of you had fallen in love with those tiny socks faster than you’d fallen in love with each other. They held so much love, so much promise. But now they were empty, devoid of anything they might’ve held just hours before. They were nothing more than a painful reminder of what could have been, what should have been. Meanwhile, your own socks were still on, the same ones Wanda had given to you on your first date. You weren’t sure you could take them off if you tried. Was that a reminder too? Did it have significance?

The ticking of the clock suddenly caught your attention. You had been standing at the doorway for thirty minutes, but what were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to go somewhere? Where would you go? Wanda was gone, not leaving any clue as to where she could’ve run off to, and you were alone.

When was the last time you’d been truly alone?

Didn’t you use to like being alone?

You grabbed your keys. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but whatever it was, you wouldn’t find it here.

You push open the door, always the one on the right. Walk twenty or so steps through the entrance, turn left. Take another left, then walk-

It was different. Completely different. The shelves weren’t the same color, metal had been swapped for wood, the carpet was new; what had happened?

“Y/N, sweetie, is that you?” Mirabelle’s voice. At least she was still here. You turned to face her, taking in her wrinkled face, the tortoiseshell glasses that had been perched on her nose since you met her as a child. “Oh my goodness, it is! We haven’t seen you in ages. We were all so worried.”

“Wha- what happened to the library?” Her kind smile flipped, her lips separated with their corners turning downwards.

“We got a renovation at the end of last year, honey. Didn’t you see it on the news?”

“Right,” you nodded, swallowing again, trying to push down the lump that had been growing in your throat for over an hour. “Um, where’s the world languages section?”

“Upstairs, love. Take two rights and you’ll see it. Enjoy your visit, okay?” You nodded again, pressing your lips into a wavering smile that Mirabelle accepted.

You found the section easily enough, pushing yourself into one of the beanbags that crowded the floor. It was quiet—you supposed not many people came to the library on a late Tuesday afternoon—but something was missing.

No, that wasn’t it. Nothing was missing. Everything had changed, and you couldn’t settle yourself no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t recognize the white walls or the large windows that surrounded you. You couldn’t recognize the book in your shaking hands; the title read “Little Women,” but it lacked the comfort and familiarity it once brought you. You couldn’t recognize the artwork that hung on the walls, the large signs suspended from the ceiling.

You caught a reflection in the shiny metal of a book cart that lay several feet away from you.

You couldn’t recognize yourself.

When you finally left the library, Mirabelle frowned as she watched you exit the doors, not stopping to check out a book like you always did. No one should ever leave a library empty-handed. You’d forgotten that too.

---

She came back less than a week later, her cheeks tear-stained and her eyes rimmed with red as she stumbled her way through an apology.

“It was a mistake, detka, I promise. I made such an awful mistake, and I’ll never forgive myself. I won’t blame you if you don’t forgive me either.” You stared at her, neither your eyes nor your mouth moving as you tried to take in what she was saying, tried to come up with an adequate response.

Which had changed more, the library or you?

“Please, you’re the only thing that matters in my life. I can’t lose you.” The melody of her once-full voice was broken, the chords fragmented and notes falling out of tune. It was as broken as you’d felt for the past few days. Maybe she understood. But you couldn’t think anymore because you were suddenly in her arms again, her tears soaking your shirt as she sobbed.

The library had been renovated, its modernity and welcoming environment being a major improvement to the once somewhat dilapidated building. You had slipped, your feet wrapped in the socks Wanda had given you as you stumbled down the dark, crooked hallway of your life, trying desperately to get a hand on the wall, grab a solid footing.

You had two options: save yourself or fall.

“Please, Y/N, please. Promise you’ll stay.”

You fell backwards, your head being the first to slam into the floor.

“Of course I’ll stay, Wan. I’d never leave you.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever get up. After all, changed or not, what’s a library without its books? Who are you without her?

-----

🏷 : @007giu

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

Text

Hvítr gown, nýr life (Ubbe x Reader)

This is my contribution to @geekandbooknerd 2k followers challenge! Congrats again, my dear!

My prompt was: "People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but it's the way you live your life that matters." - Cassandra Clare, City of Glass.

Couple notes for this fic- Bjorn & Torvi are still together because reasons. Italics mean speakers are using Old Norse.

The title means ‘White Gown, New Life’ in Old Norse.

Also, this is my first time writing Ubbe so.... hopefully its not OOC?

Words: 4800

Warnings: one or two swear words. implied sex. I think that’s it???

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius

"You cannot truly be considering this!" Bjorn thundered in the small, enclosed room.

Ubbe observed his elder brother- a man he had aspired to be like his whole childhood, a man he still looked up too, regardless of his faults. "Of course I am."

Bjorn slammed his hand on the wooden table, making it shake, as his voice shook like thunder in the room. "You are throwing your future away!"

"I am protecting our future!" Ubbe snapped, finally rising to his feet, irritation leaking into his tone. He met Bjorn's incensed blue eyes with his own resolute gaze. "We need allies, alliances, everything to make father's dream come true. If this is the price I must pay to fulfill Ragnar's dream, then I will gladly do it. It is not about me. It's for our people."

After a long, tense moment, Lagertha pushed off the wall she and Torvi were leaning against. Gliding closer, she moved to stand in front of Ubbe, tears swimming in her eyes. Gently, she cupped his cheeks. "Your father would be so proud of you, Ubbe. I pray the gods bless you with happiness in this."

"Thank you, Lagertha." Relief swelled in Ubbe's chest. If he had Lagertha's support, he knew Bjorn would come around.

Since they fled Kattegat and came to England, he had watched the shieldmaiden age before his eyes. He could not help but wonder if her soul yearned for Valhalla and to be reunited with Ragnar. Not that he could blame her. To hear her speak of Ragnar and his approval of Ubbe's actions, it only further solidified his choice.

Torvi spoke up, surprising him. "I think Ubbe should do it." When Bjorn opened his mouth to interject, she snapped her gaze over to her husband. "This is his decision, Ubbe. He has asked for our advice but it is up to him. We need security and this, though we don't trust them, this can provide that security."

Bjorn huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine! Do what you want!"

"Thank you." Ubbe softly said, looking at all the family he had left in this world. "I'll go inform King Alfred now."

With a firm stride, he left the quarters they had been given in Wessex. After some time trying to locate the young king, a passing servant was able to tell him Alfred's location. Thankfully the king was in his private study, reviewing petitions from the worker's guild. The guards at the door allowed Ubbe entrance only after the king called out to allow him entrance. With a look of unrestrained animosity, almost begging him to give them a reason to throw him out, the guards opened the door for him to pass. Ubbe nodded his thanks, but never removed his hand from the sword at his side until the door closed behind him.

Straightening in his chair, Alfred looked up from the papers spread out over his desk. "Good afternoon, Ubbe. I suspect you have sought me out because you have an answer for my proposition."

"I do, your highness." Ubbe paused, knowing how his life was going to irrevocably change once he answered. "And I will accept. I will take a Saxon wife to further the alliance between us."

"I am greatly pleased by your decision." The dark-haired man pushed away from his desk. He moved to a nearby table to pour them both a cup of wine, something these Saxons seemed to favor, as he continued speaking. "Alliances must be built on trust and understanding. A political marriage certainly helps solidify that trust."

Ubbe received the cup, missing the taste of ale from his homeland. After taking a small sip, he stared at Alfred. "So what do we do now? Do I meet some potentials or is there a matchmaker?"

"No, I already have someone picked out for you. My cousin." Alfred answered without hesitation before pausing in contemplation. "What your father and my grandfather would think of this arrangement….our families tied by blood."

"Yeah…. What is her name?"

"My cousin? Lady Y/N. Fear not, she comes from a well-respected family and with a substantial dowry. She has spent most of her life at a nunnery, so there is no fear of her virtue being tainted."

"Great." Ubbe sighed out. Though he knew Alfred meant all that to be reassuring….it felt anything but.

*****

It was not until almost a month later, Ubbe met his intended bride; with the wedding set for three days after her arrival. Apparently King Alfred and some of the Saxon noblemen were keen on the arranged marriage happening as soon as possible.

Ubbe stood off to the side in the throne room. With his hair freshly braided and pulled back and wearing one of his nicer tunics, he hoped he appeared princely. Even if by Saxon standards, he knew he fell woefully short. Lagertha had given him a nod of approval as they waited in the throne room. Though outwardly he kept his face passive and calm, his insides twisted into knots and his hands were clammy.

"Are you still certain about this, brother?" Bjorn clapped Ubbe on the shoulder as he whispered, eyeing the Saxons standing around.

The flaxen-haired Viking glanced over at King Alfred, who sat on his throne, talking in hushed tones to one of his advisors while his mother looked on with a sour expression.

Ubbe answered solemnly. "Aye, we need this alliance."

With a grunt, Bjorn removed his hand but stayed at his brother's side. Something Ubbe appreciated. Although Bjorn had no issue airing his thoughts on this foolish alliance and how Ubbe was making a mistake in regards to choosing a wife again, he kept his complaints behind closed doors. In front of the Saxons, they presented an united front.

The large doors to the throne room opened with a groan. All eyes turned to witness as a sole figure cautiously yet gracefully walked forward, head held high and hands clasped in front of her.

"Cousin!" King Alfred exclaimed, rising from his throne, arms spread wide. Immediately, he descended the few stairs with a fond smile on his face. "Your presence has been missed here at court."

The woman dipped into an elegant curtsey, her dress gliding around her like water. "You are far too kind, my king."

As King Alfred embraced his cousin in a warm hug, Ubbe could only stare in shock. Standing there in a deep red gown, the woman looked like a goddess. Ubbe had prepared himself mentally for his intended bride to be marginally pretty like most of these Saxon women, but someone he easily overlooked. Not her though. Without even saying a word to him, he felt beguiled by her. It was more than just her physical beauty, it was in the way she carried herself, with grace and a nobility. It reminded him distantly of his mother. A woman who knew her place and dignity. This woman, his intended bride, was truly stunning. He could not help but wonder if the true reason for her prolonged residence at a nunnery was not because of piety but to preserve and protect her. Something he was suddenly immensely grateful for.

"This is your betrothed." Alfred walked her over to where the Vikings stood, at the bottom of the steps leading to his throne. With a pleased smile on his face, he introduced the two. "Ubbe, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, this is my cousin, Lady Y/N."

She curtsied to him, her movements so graceful like they were part of a dance. When she spoke, he was further enchanted, for even her voice was beautiful. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Ubbe."

"It's just Ubbe. Since we are to be married, we can skip the formalities."

A coy smile played on her lips. "As you wish….Ubbe."

"Excellent." King Alfred beamed. "Perhaps a walk in the gardens to better acquaint yourselves would be desirable?"

Before Ubbe could whole-heartedly agree, wishing to learn more about his intended bride, a sickly-sweet voice interrupted.

"Y/N has only just arrived. We have wedding plans to finalize and she must try on her dress." Princess Judith interrupted, wrapping an arm through her niece's while pointedly ignoring the Vikings. "Maybe another time, but I am sure y/n will be quite busy with preparations. Come, my dear."

With that, she swept her niece out of the throne room as if the Vikings had the plague and she refused to breathe the same air as them. But before y/n disappeared, she peeked over her shoulder and met Ubbe's gaze with a tender smile teasing her lips, then disappeared from view.

"There is much to finalize and my mother wants to ensure the wedding will go smoothly. You and y/n will have time after the wedding to become acquainted." Alfred said, studying the direction his mother and cousin vanished. With a sigh, he pulled his gaze back to Ubbe. "Now that introductions are made, I have matters with the clergy to attend to."

Ubbe barely paid attention when Alfred walked away, returning to his throne and listening to some priests whine about something petty.

A bump of a shoulder against his own drew Ubbe's attention back from thinking about y/n.

Bjorn leaned over to whisper conspiracingly in his ear. "Well, at least you won't have a problem bedding her."

*****

The wedding ceremony was outlandish and dragged on for entirely too long. Between the many prayers of the priests and the rigid formality of everything, Ubbe was ready to draw his sword and spill some Christian blood, just to break up the monotony. Even Lagertha appeared ready to fall asleep from where she stood.

The only aspect that kept his attention was his bride. Watching her walk down the aisle, he almost swallowed his tongue, leaving him gaping at her in a slack-jawed awe as she slowly approached. In her flowing wedding dress, a crown of flowers in her hair and eyes alight, she appeared ethereal. Standing in his nicest tunic and pants, he knew he paled in comparison to her, but he did not mind.

When the priests tried to forcefully convince Ubbe to dress in Saxon clothing for the wedding, he not-so-subtly threatened to decapitate them if they mentioned it once more. He was a Viking and would dress as such. Besides this was to be a physical representation of an alliance between Saxon and Viking, it would make no sense for him to dress as a Saxon.

Thankfully Alfred agreed with his thoughts, so the clergy kept any further comments to themselves.

Once the wedding concluded with Ubbe and y/n proclaimed man and wife, the couple was escorted to the celebration. The following feast was beyond lavish, with drink and food in overflowing abundance. To his dismay, Ubbe found himself unable to converse with his new bride. Either Alfred was introducing him to someone new, some nobleman pestered him with questions or worst of all, Judith purposefully continued to make excuses that pulled y/n away. When their eyes met, he could see the apology in them, which lightened the stone in his heart.

As the feast progressed, Ubbe found as more time passed, the more his gaze drifted to his bride. The gods had truly blessed him with this marriage. Watching her, he was captivated. Although, he found his hand frequently shifting to reach for the hilt of his sword no longer strapped to his side. All the appreciative or lustful looks she received from other men did not go unnoticed, and if one of them tried to lay a hand on his new wife, he would not be held accountable for his actions. His fists could be just as deadly as any weapon.

Finally, the time was called for the bedding ceremony.

Alfred and some of the clergy explained to Ubbe what happened during a bedding ceremony when he was learning about the wedding's customs and the vows he would have to recite. To say the Ragnarsson was shocked was an understatement. It sounded barbaric…. and him and his people were called the heathens. But he understood the need to maintain protocol for building the alliance and the trust of the Saxons.

So that was how he found himself walking down a corridor with Bjorn at his side, while the feast and celebrations continued on without him.

"Are you sure about this?"

Ubbe rolled his eyes at his elder brother, his stride never faltering. "You did not have to agree to it."

Bjorn scoffed, keeping pace. "And miss out on all the fun?"

The two brothers laughed, the sound loosening some of the tension in the bridegroom's body. When Alfred told Ubbe he needed a witness to represent his people at the bedding ceremony, Bjorn was the only option. When Ubbe initially told his brother about the tradition and asked for Bjorn's presence, the hulking Viking had doubled-over in laughter, followed by making several crude comments about the need to instruct Ubbe on how to properly bed a woman. The discussion ended in a brotherly tussel but Bjorn agreed.

Especially when Ubbe explained his plan.

The bedroom was in the wing of the royal families' rooms. Since y/n was related by blood, she was given a room there whenever she came to visit and naturally, this meant it was where the marriage would be consummated. Several candles were lit but the bedroom was kept dim to give an illusion of privacy. A quick glance at the bed made Ubbe raise an eyebrow at the generous size and the curtains draped around it. A fire burned in the fireplace providing warmth in the bedroom, a sharp contrast to the stern, cold faces of the clergy who waited.

The bishop who married them stood off to the side with two other clergy, all in their robes and barely suppressed looks of disgust on the priests' faces. Two female attendees fussed over y/n, clearly everyone waiting for Ubbe and Bjorn. Once again, Ubbe had to force himself to keep his eyes from staying glued to his new wife. She stood there in a thick robe, with her hair falling about her shoulders loosely, free from the bridal veil. Her gaze jumped from Ubbe to the clergy and back as she nibbled on her bottom lip, clearly nervous about what was to occur next. Cheekily, he sent her a quick wink, hoping that would help settle her nerves. If the blush that grew on her cheeks said anything, at least she was not repulsed by him.

The bishop stepped forward. "Are you prepared to consummate your marriage to Lady Y/N before God and man?"

"I am." Ubbe defiantly met the man's eyes.

"Then by the power given to me by the Holy Church, let the two become one in the sight of God and these witnesses and the marriage shall be complete." With that, the man drew their strange cross sign in the air and stepped back to rejoin his fellow clergy.

The two attendees helped y/n out of her heavy robe, revealing a thin, white nightgown that seemed to only enhance her beauty and innocence. Desire thrummed in his blood at the sight of her, but Ubbe ignored the sensation for the moment. The heavy robe was laid on a nearby chair and the two women left the room with a quick curtsy, leaving only the men and y/n.

After a shared look with Bjorn, Ubbe walked over to his new bride, keeping his movements slow so as to not startle her. Her hands were clasped before her, but even as he approached, he could see the faint tremble in them. Her gaze never strayed from the floor. The confidence seen previously in her seemed to have melted away into anxiety, making him think of a skittish colt. He could not help but wonder what changed, if it was due to him or what was supposed to occur between them.

Standing before her, he gently reached out to take her soft hands in his own larger, calloused ones, pleased when she did not flinch at his touch. Although her gaze remained downward.

"Are you alright?" He whispered, aware of the four pairs of eyes watching their every move.

"Of….of course, my lord husband."

"Remember, I told you to call me by my name."

That caused her head to snap up and meet his gaze. Now he could see the tears welling up in her eyes and her swollen bottom lip from constantly worrying it.

"It'll be alright." He tugged her bottom lip from between her teeth. The way her breath hitched at the intimate touch made his heart pound. He gave her hands in his, a quick squeeze. "Trust me, yeah?"

After a moment, she gave a faint nod, still eyeing him warily but appearing less like she wanted to flee, mutely squeezing his hands back.

A voice broke the stillness in the room, immediately causing her to tense again.

"The two of you must proceed to the bed to finalize the union. We do not have all night to wait for confirmation of her virginity and consummation." One of the priests drawled with an apparent undertone of disdain.

"Then it is a good thing you don't have to wait any longer." Ubbe retorted, narrowing his eyes at the priest. The man huffed but a quiet rebuke from the bishop had the priest pressing his lips together. With one final, assessing scan, the flaxen-haired Viking shifted, pulling his new bride into his side and wrapping an arm around her waist. He felt her tense against him but ignored it to stare at the three clergy with a mocking smirk. "Bjorn."

At the sound of his name, his brother moved from leaning against the doorframe. A scowl on his face, and with the shadows cast over him, made him appear more looming and menacing. "Everybody out."

The three clergy looked back and forth between the two Viking brothers, clearly confused and intimidated.

"You can't….we must witness…."

"I SAID EVERYBODY OUT!" Bjorn roared, pulling the axe from his side and waving it in the air. "OR DO I NEED TO SPLIT YOUR SKULL TO HELP MY WORDS REACH YOUR TINY BRAINS?!"

The three scrambled, eyes wide in terror, tripping over their long robes in a pathetic attempt to reach the door faster. The bishop turned around, hands grasping the golden cross hanging from his neck. "King….King Alfred will hear of this." He stuttered out in feigned confidence.

A deafening war cry from Bjorn practically shook the room in answer. That was enough to silence the bishop and have him flee, following his companions.

At Bjorn's roar, y/n began shaking like a leaf, her hands tightly holding onto Ubbe's arm wrapped around her. He further pulled her against him, providing shelter from his brother's fury. Even as the room fell back into silence, he could still feel her trembling in his arms. He prayed to the gods that this did not darken her view of him and cause her to fear him.

Once the room cleared and the pounding footfalls of the clergy could no longer be heard, Bjorn turned around with a grin, scratching the back of his neck with his axe. "You know Alfred will be upset when he finds out."

Ubbe smirked. "We can't let him have everything he wants, yeah?"

That made Bjorn chuckle. "I'll go guard the door." He pointed his axe at Ubbe, still grinning. "You owe me for this."

"Scaring priests shitless isn't enough for you?"

Bjorn scoffed. "I can do that whenever I like."

"We'll name our firstborn after you."

Bjorn waved him off, opening the wooden door and stepping out. When the door closed, the echoing sound seemed to fill the empty space in the room.

Ubbe peeked down at the woman in his arms. "Are you alright?"

"Your brother….is….frightening."

"Aye, don't tell him that though. It would only inflate his ego more."

Once he was certain she was steady on her feet and would not faint, he pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her head before striding away to the other side of the bedroom. Quickly he pulled off his tunic and boots, tossing them onto a nearby chair and then flopped onto the massive bed in only his pants. If nothing else could be said for tonight, he knew he would sleep well. The bed was comfortable, even rivaling his own bed back in Kattegat. With a pleased groan, he tucked an arm under his head and settled under the covers. A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, his eyelids sliding closed. Even though he felt like he spent most of the day standing around and kneeling for the wedding, it was still tedious and draining. Thank the gods it was over.

"Um, my lord…."

"Ubbe." He interrupted, lips twitching in amusement. "Or husband. Whichever you prefer."

"Ah, Ubbe….are we not….?" Her hesitant voice trailed off, but the unspoken question lingered in the air.

He snorted. "I have no plans to force myself upon you just to appease your priests and bishop."

"But we must consummate the marriage."

"I will only have sex with you if you desire me as your husband and not just to fulfill an obligation."

The following, prolonged silence caused him to open his eyes and look over at his new wife. It was apparent she had not moved from where he left her. He expected to see fear on her lovely face or revulsion at the idea of her ever willingly wanting him to touch her. Instead, she seemed to be studying him with a mixture of curiosity and respect. That confident woman he had previously met, making a reappearance.

After holding her gaze for a moment, he patted the bed next to him. "Come lay down. I doubt standing there all night will be pleasant."

With a soft smile, she stepped over and crawled under the covers, but maintained an arm’s length distance between them. They both laid on their backs, together yet alone. The only sounds were of the crackling fire and their breathing.

Before he realized it, Ubbe found himself speaking, filling the silence with his babbling but strangely felt he needed to share these thoughts with the woman beside him, the woman whose life was now tied to him, whether she wanted it to be or not.

"I doubt this is the marriage you were dreaming of as a little girl. Probably expected some prince or lord….not a Viking. Your people only see us as heathens, as barbaric devils, at least that's what one of the noblemen said. That we cannot stop the evil and destruction we cause because we are possessed." He snorted, rubbing a hand down his face. After a deep breath, he turned his head to look at her, amazed to find her already watching him. His tone softened as he continued. "I'm sorry you were forced into this marriage. I know it might not mean much to you but I vow I won't ever physically harm you or force myself upon you. After all the wedding ceremonies, you can return to the nunnery if that is what you want."

Her eyes widened momentarily, then drifted away as she worried her lip once again. As he waited for her to speak, his gaze traveled over her face, taking in the small details that until now he had not been able to observe. It would be a blatant lie to say he did not desire to lie with her, to touch and taste her. The current state of his manhood was evidence enough of how simply gazing at her beauty affected him. He made a vow to her. If nothing else, he hoped they could be friendly to one another.

To his shock, she rolled onto her side, facing him completely, hands tucked under her cheek. Without hesitation, he mirrored her action, but kept his head cradled on his arm.

"I have not traveled much," she quietly said, almost shyly, "but there is one thing I've learned through my studies and the observation of others. People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but it's the way you live your life that matters." She paused as if choosing her next words carefully. "I do not think you are a barbaric devil or….or possessed. I think…."

"What?"

"I think you are very brave and strong. Not many would seek an alliance with those that fervently claim them as an enemy….nor be kind to a simple noblewoman."

He smirked, finding himself charmed by her honesty. Carefully, he reached over and brushed a thumb over her cheek. "You are no simple noblewoman, my lady."

"If you are just Ubbe, then I request you call me, y/n."

An unexpected, loud banging on the door startled them both. Y/n gasped and rushed to sit up against the headboard, eyes wide with fright. Ubbe immediately pushed himself up, making sure to put himself between his wife and the door, unsheathing a dagger he had subtly slipped under his pillow.

"Are you two done yet? Some ugly priest out here wants to know!" Bjorn shouted through the door.

Ubbe groaned, putting the dagger away, before calling back. "No! This woman is insatiable! Tell the priest to come back in the morning! Hopefully I can still walk!"

A harsh bark of laughter preceded loud arguing, which could be heard through the door. Raised voices crept underneath the door frame, the loudest being that of Bjorn. Ubbe stayed perched on the bed, to assist his brother if the need called for it. No matter what Alfred or those whiny clergy ordered, no one would be witnessing any consummation of his. Ever. Eventually, the voices dwindled like a dying flame until only silence could be heard from outside. Ubbe figured Bjorn must have won the argument, or used enough threats of bodily harm, since no one entered the bedroom.

The dagger returned to its sheath under his pillow. A habit he had since childhood. A glance to his side showed his wife still shifted as far away from the door as possible, hands clutching the sheets in a tight grip. He reached a hand out to her. "It's alright. Bjorn won't let anyone in."

She took his hand, still eyeing the door warily. "What did you say to him?"

"Ah, nothing important. Just to keep the priests away."

"Ok."

"We should go to sleep. Today has been long." He stated after he coaxed her back under the covers and no longer sent glances towards the door. Only after she was settled did he relax. Laying on his back, an arm behind his head, his eyes closed almost instantly. He could hear her shuffling occasionally but he paid it no mind. Sleep slinked into his mind, hovering on the edges.

"Ubbe…." A barely-heard whisper pulled him from the brink of sleep.

"Yes?"

"What if….what if I want to."

"Mmmm?"

"Um, fulfill our marital duties."

Well, that got his attention. He turned his head to the side, noting how her gaze traced over his bare chest slowly then lifted to meet his gaze. "Are you asking me to have sex with you?"

"Yes." She bit her bottom lip, even as her eyes never strayed from him.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Hmmm….well, I may be convinced but….you have to kiss me first."

Cautiously yet deliberately, she scooted closer until they lay side by side. In a graceful movement, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his in an innocent, chaste kiss. Her lips were softer than even the pillow beneath him and by the gods, she was going to be his undoing. After a moment, she leaned back, gazing down at him with a nervous yet endearing smile. Before he could say anything, to encourage or instruct, her lips descended on his once again, but this time hungrily. His initial surprise transitioned to a carnal satisfaction when a soft moan slipped out of her after he tugged on her bottom lip. Their mouths connected with a needy kiss, sending a jolt of electricity through him. All thoughts of sleep forgotten.

Suddenly, he flipped them over, pinning her underneath him, taking charge of their love-making. She giggled at the abrupt action but that was quickly silenced by his mouth crashing against hers and thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

As she kissed him back passionately, he wondered if maybe this marriage was not such a bad idea. If the way her lips eagerly sought his, her hands gripped onto biceps as if to keep her steady, her back arched as he trailed open-mouth kisses down her neck….maybe the marriage could be more than just political.

Soon enough, all thoughts vanished from his mind that were not related in regards to exploring the exquisite body of his Saxon wife and listening to her moan his name repeatedly.

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe x reader #ubbe x you #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson x reader #vikings bjorn #torvi vikings #lagertha #alfred the great #king alfred #hayleys2k #mzwrites

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years ago

Note

Oh god please, more cheating and angst (hoodie? Tim? 👀👀👀) Idk u just write it so good and my aching heart feels better oddly because of it. I fuckn love angst djsjsjjdjdjd

Full Moon and Being A Horrible Person

[Masky X F!Reader]

[Warnings: language, physical cheating]

[AN: i love angst too]

The full moon makes us do weird things, it’s been well documented. From the people bouncing off the walls to inducing labor, all the way to making us make questionable decisions, the full moon is to blame, not him.

It was a full moon when he caught the eyes of a woman with dark, sweet chocolate colored eyes. She looked so beautiful under the lights of the bar, yellow illuminating her skin like it was gold.

She’d been flirting with him across the bar the entire night. Wry smiles, tapping her fingernails against the glass, twirling her dark hair and giggling when he caught her eyes and by extension, her attention.

“You know Reader isn’t gonna be happy with your behavior,” Hoodie had lightly chided him before downing more of his beer. “Why don’t you let me take over? I haven’t-”

“No,” Tim laughed, pushing at his best friend’s shoulder. “It’s harmless flirting,” he finished, watching Hoodie’s expression from the corner of his eye.

“If Reader was doing this, would you consider it harmless flirting?”

Kate excused herself from her conversation with one of the ladies from the booth behind the table she and her group shared, then turned her attention to her group leader. “He has a point,” she said, grinning when Hoodie leaned over the table to high-five her.

Tim rolled his eyes and began to lazily swish his drink. “It’s nothing, I promise.”

“You mean to say you haven’t emptied your balls in a few weeks and you’re desperate,” Hoodie deadpans, breaking his blank expression when Kate loudly laughs.

“Again, he has a point,” Kate smirked. “C’mon, let Hoodie or Toby take this one. Neither of them are in relationships and are less likely to get attached.”

Tim raises a brow at Kate. “Attached? What does that mean?”

Hoodie shares a look with the woman across from him who nods at him to explain what exactly she means. “She uh,” Hoodie awkwardly sips at his beer before biting the bullet completely. “C’mon man, you have an addictive personality. Pills, cigarettes, Reader…” He trails off before Tim hisses and punches Hoodie’s shoulder, roughly. Hoodie only barks a laugh and raises his hand up in submission. “I’m right, I’m always right!” He manages to choke out through remaining giggles.

“Can we just drop it for now?” Tim growls.

Kate rolls her eyes and then pulls a face to Hoodie, who stifles his laughter just barely before she turns back to her conversation with the ladies from the booth behind her. She’s up and out of her seat following a group of them to the other side of the bar, giggling and laughing as a woman with short pink hair holds her hand and weaves her through the crowds.

Hoodie feigns innocence before standing up. “I’m gonna find Tobes, who knows what he’s doing. Tearing up the dance floor, maybe?”

Tim watches as his best friend shuffles out from his seat, beer still in hand as he disappears into the sea of people. He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. His dark eyes scan the bustling room full of bright, rainbow colored strobe lights and too loud music only to catch a glimpse of the full moon outside. It’s tinged pink, and seems to blossom the longer he looks at it. Due to where they’re currently at in the city, he can’t see the stars - much too much light pollution. A sigh is about to escape his lips when he feels a hand brushing over his, pulling him from the light of the full moon and onto the woman he’d been flirting quietly with all night.

“Never thought I’d get you alone,” she says, voice sweet like honey and smoother than silk.

Tim thinks about his words, his group’s chiding before mentally shrugging off all responsibilities. “I know, right?” He replies, voice low and deep, something charming and sweet.

She grins like the Cheshire Cat before playfully biting her lip. “I’m just passing through here,” she begins, “maybe we could… Have a few more drinks then head back to my hotel room?”

Tim feels a slight blush come to his cheeks before swallowing it back down. He smirks, leaning into her presence. “I’d love nothing more.”

The two of them knock back a few more drinks, the woman mostly choosing fruity things and Tim sticking to whiskey. Their touches become more and more bold, and their words more lusty and obscene by the moment. He has her sit on his lap and he whispers all the nasty things he wants to do to her and she gobbles it up, giggles and soft licks to the shell of his ear driving him up a wall.

And then, he follows her to her hotel. It’s a tangle of lips smashing against lips, hearts beating in sync and hands grabbing in the most inappropriate of places. Her clothes lie on the floor before getting covered up by his, her body following in suit.

Tim takes her. He drinks her in full and has her seeing the stars that were once only gazed upon by you. He touches her in ways you’ve never been touched and allows her to touch him in ways he’d always claimed were ‘too much’ for him.

When the deed is done, he’s cuddling her much like he would cuddle you, cigarette in his mouth and bliss on his face.

Tim stayed the night.

The next morning, he’s so groggy that he doesn’t even realize he’s still got her lipstick stains on his skin. He gets back in his car (failing to realize his group had to either walk back to the temp or hitch with someone else), and heads back to the only true home he’d ever considered.

It’s a few hours to your place, but he makes it, and that’s all that matters. Your car isn’t in the driveway, so he lets himself in. A quiet stumble to the bathroom and he sees he looks like a mess. The weight of what he did to you begins to sink in.

Tim turns the shower on and strips off his clothing - the clothes still linger with her perfume before he hops in and begins to furiously scrub at his skin. Tears well in his eyes. How could he do that to you? What kind of common sense was he lacking in that moment?

He continues to scrub, slowly coming to the realization that he’s going to do whatever it takes to hide this from you - you can never know. It was the light of the full moon, people always act crazy when the moon is in that phase, and he was drunk, like really drunk.

Excuses, excuses.

The water stops right when he hears the front door open. He hears your voice. You’re greeting him sweetly, like you always do.

He takes in a deep breath. You can never know.

It was only inevitable that you’d find out, though he’s surprised you went as long as you did without knowing. Tim hid it from you for months, and he probably could’ve kept it longer if he didn’t come with you to Target when you asked. You’d always been a fan of late night store runs, and he hadn’t gone on one with you in a while… What harm could it possibly do?

A lot. A lot of harm that surfaced the truth.

“I should’ve cuffed you when I had a chance!” The woman giggled as she came up beside you as you looked at the early Halloween decorations.

You raised a brow. “Excuse me?” You looked over to your boyfriend, whose face had gone pale. “I think you have the wrong…”

“You’re a lucky girl, y’know that?” She continued, brushing off your words. “He took me to the moon.” Her voice was so sultry and decadent. “Hope he takes you to the moon as well,” she says, her fingers trailing Tim’s arm.

He pulls away from her. “W...Who are you?” He says, attempting to sound confused.

The woman pulls a face before looking in between the two of you, her dark eyes glancing and putting together the pieces. Instead of being embarrassed or ashamed, she chuckles and begins to take off again. “I did you a favor, honey,” she calls over her shoulder, hips swaying as she turns down another aisle.

You don’t want to admit it, but now you know why Tim’s been so weird lately and nicer than usual. Sure, Tim is a sweet guy, but his behavior the past few months has been OVERLY nice, and now you know why. “What was that?” You ask, eyes narrowing and tears welling.

“Nothing, let’s just pay and get out-”

“I wanna go home.”

Tim moves to rest his hand on your shoulder, but you recoil as if you’d been burned.

A huge argument ensued when the two of you got back into the car, lots of harsh words were traded. He tried reasoning with you, he tried telling you how much he loved you, he tried everything in his power but he’d ruined a good thing.

You ended up pulling over on the side of the road, slamming the breaks, tears in your eyes and turned to him. “Give me the key to my house.”

“What? No-”

“Give. Me. The. Key. Tim,” you hiss, punctuating every word with stronger venom. You held your hand out.

Tim sighs deeply and reaches into his pocket, pinching the bridge of his nose as you harshly snatch the key from his awaiting hand. “It’s not like that, you know I love you-”

“Is that what you’re calling it? Cheating on me and then lying about it for months?” You rhetorically ask, growling and seething further and further. You feel rage wracking your system as it exhausts you further and further. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because if you do, you’ll melt.

“I’m telling you, it was to protect you,” he attempts again. “Let’s just, let’s just go home and-”

“Get the fuck out of my car,” you say, drawing in every remaining and residual strength you have as hot tears scald your cheeks.

“You don’t mean that-”

“I do.”

“Reader, baby please-”

“Get the fuck out of my car,” you repeat. You squeeze your eyes shut, shake your head and then turn back to the road. “Do it before I do something stupid.”

Tim feels his heart shatter, cracking on impact as it falls deeper and deeper. He shakily runs his fingers through his hair before sliding out of your car, slamming the door shut and watches as you drive off and out of his life. He wants to scream, or cry, maybe both at the same time? He’s not entirely sure yet. He just knows his world is crashing down and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He betrayed your trust and broke your heart all for one singular night of passion.

The emotionally distraught man looks up at the moon, finding no solace that it’s full again.

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