#i was clutching my pearls and clenched throughout this

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

size matters • l.c.

Pairing: lee chan x afab!reader Genres: major smut (minors PLS dni!), losers + idiots + besties to lovers Warnings: *deep breath* MONSTER COCK CHAN, swearing, love me some switch action, reader does not use specified pronouns but refers to their pussy as "she", reader also wears a skirt, pet names, alcohol and goofy drunk antics, bad humor, use of "whore/slut", tons of dirty talk, they're kinda pervs, mentions of toys, masturbation (fem), hints to past sexual partners, mentions of oral (male), actual oral (fem. receiving), car sex (kind of), condoms, fingering (fem. receiving), WAP lmao and squirting, bantering, degradation, wee bit praise, unprotected/protected MESSY sex, underwear play (??? lmao), precum play (??), edging, face-riding, groping/manhandling, objectification, reverse cowgirl position, bulge kink, slapping/spanking, possession, almost choking, biting, tears and crying, a bit of overstim and if i missed smth lmk sdfjkajdf WC: 8.3k A/N: this started out purely self-indulgent as usual and reads like a bad pornhwa but it's also nana month so a happy early birthday to @bitchlessdino because i will be asleep when the clock actually strikes 12 tomorrow! and bc i will dedicate all chan content to the loml! this is like my 3rd longest fic on this blog and 4th longest fic ever and it's just utter filth and smut... hate it here. i always get into a crazy headspace when i write for this man. i hope y'all enjoy my delusions before i retire out of shame 😬

"I'm worried my dick's too big."

Laughter bubbles in your chest at the same time the beer you'd just taken a swig of swishes around in your mouth. It's so like your best friend to say something stupid. Especially when your mouth is full.

He frowns in mild annoyance as you rock back and forth with mirth, struggling not to spit out your drink and make a mess. But also trying to refrain from choking. Because if you die, you sure as hell will find a way to make sure everyone knows that a dumbo and his terrible concern over having a big cock drove you to your demise in such an unfortunate manner.

And no one wants that.

"I dunno what's so funny," the man in question irritably gripes, "but for god's sake, calm down and swallow."

Though it ends up that Chan is the one gulping first. Ears burning and eyes widening when you wiggle your brows deviously and do as he says. Sticking your tongue out for good measure — just for proof that yes, you did swallow —  but he's quickly whipping his gaze away. Head turning to the side as if that does anything to hide the embarrassing look overtaking his expression. 

He thinks you'll back off, hoping the nervous twiddling of his fingers will deter further teasing. But he should really know better. The telltale signs are littered across the table in front of him and even overpower your usual sweet scent when you lean close into his personal space.

"So, you like it when someone swallows versus spits for you, Channie?"

"You're drunk."

"So are you." 

Because that's what happens every movie night. The two of you enjoy too many beers after a feel-good show and start talking nonsense.

"Yeah, and we're having a very serious conversation right now. A drunk one. But still, serious."

You purse your lips. "You're bluffing. No way you're complaining about the hugeness of your dick. 'Cause no one does that."

"It's not like I'm trying to boast or even insecure, I'm just worried."

"Worried about what?" you snort and push at his shoulder. "There'd be no reason to worry if you know how to use it. In the end, size doesn't matter at all."

Chan quirks an eyebrow, side-eyeing you. "At all?" 

"If your technique is good, it shouldn't matter as long as everyone feels satisfied. You know, you just gotta hit that one spot…" 

You start doing hand motions to demonstrate your point that seem wildly inappropriate and are honestly so drunkenly uncoordinated to the point that Chan not only feels compelled to stop you but doubts anyone would feel good from that. Then again, he's never really managed to partake in sloppy sex, so who knows? 

He grabs your hands to still them and though you no longer move, you protest. "What? You'll have 'em seeing and feeling stars! To be honest… you prolly will too if ya try your best."

"You know, I do know how to pleasure someone. It's not really an issue once I'm inside, it's just getting there that's kind of a problem."

"Channie, are you secretly a virgin?" You lay your head on his shoulder, hand running down his forearm and weaving your fingers between his. "Issokay if you are."

"You know I'm not!"

"Well, yeah I guess you're a bit of a whore. Still love you no matter what."

Chan chokes out your name in frustration. "All I'm saying is that I have a huge cock and I'm sad about it!"

"And you keep saying I'm drunk. Look, you're valid in being… upset about having a fat dick even if I don't understand. Just telling you that sometimes a ton of prep is helpful and even a decent amount of lube. No shame in that. Not everyone's built to take a large-ass, whopping cock." And then you mumble extremely quietly, "If it's even that big."

Unfortunately, he hears you and scoffs. Popping his shoulder up to gently shove you off him. Though that only causes you to grasp for his sweatpant-clad thigh and hold onto it for dear support in your half-drunken stupor. The perverted part of both your brains flash to your hand squeezing tightly around something else; the unmistakable heat of said something else radiating towards the closest part of your hand and causing a hot rush to flare across your entire body.

Or maybe that's just the alcohol.

Doesn't stop you from shamelessly ogling what you can only presume to be his bulge, gray fabric stretched over his groin and straining against muscular thighs. 

"Are you flaccid right now?"

"What's it to you?"

"Just curious. Thinking about my different dildo sizes."

He balks at that. "Pl-please don't."

"Yeah, not sure I wanna compare what your dick would realistically feel inside me," you admit even if you find it difficult to tear your hungry eyes away to take in Chan's mortified expression. 

"Can we stop talking about my personal parts now?" he squeaks out and you shoot him a dubious side-eye even though you do easily acquiesce.

"With pleasure. Speaking of which…"

Chan's hushed groan of "Oh dear" goes ignored even after you drape an arm on the back of the couch behind his head, lay the other across his chest, and splay your legs over his lap. Your lips end up leaving a sticky residue on his cheek, neck, and ear as you graciously whisper your own sex secret — the spontaneous topic of tonight — to him. 

"Only my bullet vibe has the ability to make me squirt. None of the others, not even the thirteen-inch one with suction ridges. So yeah, hm… size doesn't matter, does it Channie?"

"I dunno a single dick attached to a human body that can vibrate or has suctioning functions."

"Then you should try harder."

He apologizes for having such blatant ignorance about the matter and then eventually you end up falling asleep together. 

Limbs tangled and wrapped around one another just like every other night you doze off with the comfort of the other's body warmth. And like usual, you and Chan peer at each other with eyelids heavy from sleep and goofy but comforting smiles — merely inches apart when the sun's rays sneak a peek through the blinds to shine onto your faces. Because everything's normal and just right between the two of you. 

Like always.

Except it's not.

All you can think about is your best friend's dumb, gargantuan cock and his weird embarrassment about it. If you didn't know Chan as well as you do, you might think he was just using that as an excuse to get into your pants but you know better. He's genuinely perturbed over his too-big dick! 

You let out a sigh. Warm breath fans the tip of your ear while large hands lay on your hips, ringed fingers teasing the bare skin revealed by the daring crop top you decided to wear tonight.

"Am I boring you, baby?"

"Kind of," you admit, displeased that you weren't enjoying the usual thrill of grinding on the dancefloor with a hot man. Turning around to face said man, you purse your lips. "How would you feel if you had a big dick, Cheol?"

He raises an eyebrow in the self-assured way only the Choi Seungcheol can. "Shouldn't you be asking what it's like possessing the largest dick of the century?"

"Not helping, I'm not talking about big dick energy."

"That's not what you said when it was shoved halfway down your throat."

"Can't say much if I'm sucking someone off, you dolt. And I said you made my jaw hurt 'cause you're a guy that likes it rough, not 'cause I thought your dick was overly huge."

"Brat," Seungcheol says rather affectionately, "so whose humongous cock are you taking tonight?"

Your eyes wander over his shoulder to the bar, the same place he noticed your gaze strayed towards all night. A glee-filled smirk is on your face when you meet his eyes again though you only casually state with a shrug, "An absolute loser's."

"Wasn't aware it was self-pleasure night, sweetheart," he jokingly snorts, nudging you in that direction before you can get too mad at him. But not without delivering a playful slap on your ass as a 'good luck to charm' to send you on your way. "Go get 'em, Tiger!"

The cocky bastard must think you're after Soonyoung tonight, who greets you by placing a polite kiss on the cheek and a casual side hug. Though he looks hella fine tonight with slicked-back hair and donning the signature head-turning 'leather jacket, silver jewelry' fit that Seungcheol is sporting, he's not who you have in mind.

You squeeze him back though, always ready to return the affection you receive. "Rare to not see you dancing, tough crowd tonight?"

"Nah, I just have my priorities set." He angles his head toward the bartender who sneaks subtle glances at the two of you as if to distinguish what intentions you had approaching such a striking man. 

That they just so happen to have their eyes on. Luckily Soonyoung does too.

"Ah, well, so do I!" 

Never one to want to get stuck between two people and cause a potential misunderstanding, you pat him on the arm, wink encouragingly at the bartender, and skip away to find the person who's been occupying your mind for the past few days in a very different way like crazy.

Chan hasn't moved from where you last caught sight of him — in the corner of the bar nursing the same glass of bourbon for far too long. There's distinctly more water in it from the rapidly melting ice ball than alcohol but you still ease it out of his grasp. Taking a sip only to wrinkle your nose in disgust.

Your best friend observes your expression with a bemused one of his own after you hand it back, lip gloss staining the rim. A far cry from the darkened, sultry stare that followed as you moved from one gyrating body to the next. You wonder how you've never noticed it before. But then again, you yourself have never thought about him in that kind of way until now. 

While momentarily lost in your thoughts, Chan's working on getting the attention of Soonyoung's flirt target to order your favorite drink. But you place a hand on his arm, squeezing the firm muscle beneath your fingertips. 

"I wanna go home."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just feel like leaving."

He shakes his head. "You looked like you were having a good time."

"Ooh… are you jealous?"

"Hah, jealous? No. Concerned that someone did something you didn't like? Yeah."

"There will be," you tug him by the open collar of the flannel he's wearing so you're nose-to-nose, "if he doesn't take me back to his place right now."

His eyebrows raise, eyes widening as they drop down to the pouty curve of your lips. You swear he even peers at your cleavage with the tiniest of squints before finishing what little bit of liquor is left, standing, and pulling you along with him outside.

Walking to his car parked by the sidewalk is truly a breath of fresh air, the chill of the evening breeze and city noises rushing by helps bring Chan back down to earth. No longer on the crazy high fueled by the hypnotic, seductive thrall of the nightclub's booming bass that adds to him being wholly entranced by your teasing allure. 

Now it's just you and him. Simple as usual, getting ready to drive around.

"You want to go to my place?"

"Yeah."

He starts the engine, checking the side mirror to estimate when there will be an available opening to pull out. "Whaddya wanna do, stop somewhere for snacks?"

"Sure. Maybe condoms too."

"I'm sorry, what?" It's a good thing the car's still in park when his foot stomps on the gas pedal out of shock, revving the engine and making you both jump. "Why?"

Chan even goes as far as to steal a glance over his shoulder at the backseat. As if you had miraculously snuck in someone from the club that you were planning to fuck and he didn't know about it. 

There's no one there, of course.

"Why… are we picking up… condoms?" he repeats. "I um, I have a bunch of unopened boxes i-if you need them."

"You do? Good."

"Uh, can you at least let me know how many are used so I don't suddenly run out?"

Your eyebrows raise though he doesn't even dare look at you. "Do you think you'll cum that much?"

"Pardon?! N-no, I only have a surplus because I bought them in bulk!"

"I thought you weren't having sex a lot because you have such a big cock. One that rarely goes inside anyone."

His hands cover his face. "I'm saying it's fine if you want to use them!"

"Gee, thanks. You want me to make condom balloon animals or something?"

One brown eye glares at you between fingers. "… If you're into that."

"I bet extra large ones would make brilliant animal balloons but that's a sad waste when they could go around a dick instead. I mean it can't be easy for you to find ones that don't break. Whatever, at least you have a ton. And as you know I'm on the pill."

He has to know. He has to ask. "Are you confused or is it just me?"

"Clearly, because I don't know why you think I'd be into filling condoms with air and not cock."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but — I mean like there's no way — but are you implying that you want to… you know, with me…?"

"Whaddya mean 'no way'? Fuck yeah, I wanna fuck you! Sorry, was that not clear?" 

Chan chokes on his saliva and has a brief hacking fit. "No?!" 

"Damn, uh… my bad. Sorry, I thought it was super obvious. Simply put, I can't get the thought of you out of my mind or my pussy, so yeah. We should totally bang. Have sex and all that. Only if you want to obviously. No hard feelings if not."

Oh god, yes he does. Since he now knows that you can squirt, let alone with something as small as a little bullet vibrator, all he can think about is what would happen if he teased your cunt with the thick head of his cock. It's been driving him absolutely feral and fueled a rather ugly feeling when he saw Seungcheol all over you earlier. 

But now that he knows you want him? Maybe just as much as he wants you? Explicitly? 

He starts driving in an attempt to help collect himself. You're at ease, able to read him well and know he'll need some time to process and organize his thoughts. So, you wait in silence while he does just that, and when he speaks again his voice is low, laced with utter desire.

"You've been thinking about me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Your pussy has too?"

"Mhm, Channie… she's been crying for you like crazy."

"Fuck," he mutters and grips the steering wheel tightly to avoid swerving into the berm. He rasps out in a desperate beg, "C-can you touch yourself for me? Let me hear how loud she is?"

And you sweetly oblige with a hushed, "Of course," and can't lift your miniskirt up faster than you do now, pushing the drenched thong underneath to the side. Your clit's been buzzing nonstop ever since he whined about his big cock and you got to glimpse the outline of it. And with him now sitting beside you as your thumb rubs at the tiny nub, pointer fingers dipping in and out of your clenching hole, you both let out groans — you at the thrilling sensation and him at the insanely filthy sounds.

Chan steals a moment to take in the sight when he switches lanes, loving the way your tongue lolls past glossy lips that part to release little whimpers of pleasure. It's unlikely you'll squirt right now. But there's still a slick sheen of arousal glistening on your thighs so he holds onto the sick twist of hope that a trace will be left behind. He's pleased and licks his lips but has to swiftly pay attention to the road again, especially when your head rolls to the side, eyelashes pleadingly fluttering at him.

He needs to get home fast. Now.

The car fills with the sloppy noises of you playing with your cunt which grows wetter and wetter by the second. The air is heavy and oozes sex, the compact space growing more humid as you work and rile up your pussy, yourself, and the man beside you. You keep easing up to that delicious edge but never fully dipping over it, making sure to continue growing needier and more wanton until the blurry scenery rushing past the windows half-registers as familiar in your already fucked-out state of mind.

"Wanna get a feel of your cock," you whine out with no shame at how pitiful it sounds. "Gotta know how many fingers to stuff inside to stretch myself out for the real thing."

The way he spits out your name like a curse word makes your gummy walls contract tightly, emitting a moist suctioning sound when you pull your fingers out and bully them back in. 

"No. You have to wait."

"Don't wanna! Been waiting long enough."

"So fuckin' needy," he taunts as if he's not panting heavily with his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "I don't think they'll come even close to opening up that tiny hole of yours effectively for my dick. But size doesn't matter, so whatever. Right, sweetheart?"

You cuss him out jokingly while working knuckle-deep inside your cunt. Humping against your palm and pulling at your nipples with the other hand underneath your top when he rolls to a stop at an empty four-way in the neighborhood. 

He swats your arm out and away, curiously sweeping his own fingers across your damp folds that flinch at the sudden contact but still mourn the devastating loss of being filled before he slaps at them. Chan grins like a total heathen at the way your hips jolt upon impact, growing more and more delirious at the way droplets of your arousal splash out at the action.

"If you cum by rubbing yourself on that seat — no hands — before I pull in the driveway, I'll let you touch me to mentally prep yourself before we get inside. Before I get inside you." His words are enunciated with a smirk that drops after bringing soaked fingers to his lips — eyelids fluttering with a grunt at your taste eagerly licked clean with his tongue. "God, do you know how delicious you are? Need you to sit on my face at some point, wanna drown in that sloppy pussy."

His dirty talk could be enough to finish you off, you belatedly realize. The earlier command to rut your aching clit against the scratchy fabric to soothe it makes you thrillingly feel like a depraved whore. 

"You're a fuckin' perv, Chan," you growl out as if you aren't doing exactly what he asked on instinct and loving how he's talking to you. How good he is at making you feel divine.

"Yeah? But I want something to remember this by."

"Sick," you snarl through gritted teeth like the knowledge of him thinking about this moment every time he gets in his car and looks at the passenger seat isn't getting you off even more. Bonus points if he jerks off to it. You act like it's not the catalyst to you coming undone, blaming it fully on the bump of the asphalt connecting to the concrete driveway hitting your hard nub just right — absolutely defiling his poor car with your arousal. "Sick in the head."

Neither one of you care. 

In fact, Chan's so pleased he ignores the words you both know you don't mean. Grabbing the hand you buried deep within your hole, but then chose to use it to grip at the console while following his command, and guides it to his mouth. Happily repeating the same thing he did to his own, maintaining eye contact as he tongues at your fingertips. Pupils dilating with how addicted he's become to your taste. Growing more and more eager to have it straight from the source in the very near future. 

Then he places your spit-coated fingers where his cock strains against dark jeans. A darker, damp spot on the denim signifies how much precum the tip is leaking, begging to be released. He squeezes the hand sandwiched between his and the hardening length, shallowly thrusting up into your palm so you can completely grope at its mouth-watering, jaw-aching girth. 

"Feel that?" he goads, "that's gonna have to fit inside your tight cunt."

Your eyes nearly cross at the realization. And of course, your pussy forlornly clenches around nothing, dripping out more arousal to add to the already soiled mess beneath you. 

Oh, you cannot wait.

He wasn't lying, positive every single finger stuffing your hole couldn't compare to the size you just felt beneath those very appendages. Tears collect at your lash line, already anticipating the sheer amount of pleasure you know you'll be feeling with a very warm and real dick. And he's not even anywhere inside of you yet!

Chan coos and wipes the tear that escapes to your cheek. Then he gets out of the car and comes around to the other side to help you walk since your legs are weak and shaking — for more than one reason. That's fine because it gives him almost a weird sense of pride and an excuse to grind and grope at you as he pleases while unlocking the front door. Surprisingly, both of you are giggling together as if you're naughty teens again, always up to no good. It feels strangely wholesome, a light sense of relief blooming and filling your entire body.

Until you're on the other side of the door and those feelings morph back into something carnal. More primal. And Chan must feel it too because you swear he growls when pinning you against the wall. 

"You'll let me eat you out, right? 'Course you will." 

Now it's your turn to feel perverse satisfaction, watching as his lip trembles at the very thought of getting denied such a treat. Feeling the man's absolute desperation through the fingertips that dig into your hips and slightly hike up the already ridiculously short skirt you're wearing.

"C'mon bestie, please."

"… You did not bestie-zone me right now."

"I — " Chan hesitates and you fear the reality of the situation has hit him. That he'll back out and leave you a yearning mess like this. But then he leans in close to whisper hotly against your ear, "What, you want me to call you something like baby?"

Your hum of consideration encourages him to continue, palms sliding down the sides of your bare thighs and lowering himself at a pace that matches the syllables of each word leaving his mouth. Keeping eye contact with you the whole time as a mischievous smirk lights up his stupidly handsome face. 

"Darling? Babe? Lovely sweetheart? Or…" His voice gets thicker, more gravelly until he's finally on his knees and peering up at you. "A vixen? Seductress? Little whore? My slut?"

His hands sneak upwards again, pausing when they're hidden under the pleat of your skirt. 

"Still, you'll always be my dear best friend." He acknowledges and for some reason, it fills you with a comforting sense of reassurance.

And then he waits, hoping — praying — to get your permission.

The coy way you lift up the skirt in no way matches the cute grin you flash at him. Biting your pointer finger as you reveal your pretty pussy for Chan, its puffy lips spread by the continually soaked thong stuck between them. His eyes flick almost nervously away from yours to get a look, letting out a strangled moan at the sight. 

Automatically drawn like a bee to honey. His heart thumps anxiously when your fingers bury in his bangs to yank at them, halting him just short of being able to stick his tongue out for a taste that he already misses. He whines, fully surrounded by the heady scent of your arousal and unable to feast. But you have something to tell him first.

"You can't make me cum."

"What? Why? Need to stretch — "

"No. I already spent hours practicing with my thirteen-inch, so it'll be fine. We're doing this so you know what the telltale signs are when I'm about to cum when this," you briefly release his hair so manicured nails can pet the outside of your glistening wet cunt, "is wrapped around your dick." You smile when he moans quietly at the revelation and you tug lightly again at silky strands, eager to hear more before you absolutely break him. "And don't you want to see me squirt?"

"God, yes."

You shove his face between your inner thighs. "Then this'll help, baby boy. So, don't you dare let me cum unless it's on your cock."

Chan really can't protest against what you call him and honestly wouldn't want to because that would mean leaving the delectable meal he's finally being allowed to dine on. Though your thong remains in the way, he uses it to his advantage. Sucking all the wetness out of it with a hearty groan of appreciation, pushing it back between your folds, and running his tongue that put it there in zig-zag motions along the sorry excuse for fabric. Then repeating the same motions on either side of the bare supple pussy lips that clench at every nibble, suck, and brush on them.

It isn't very long until he gets frustrated by its restrictions though, feeling outrageous at how jealous he's getting of a piece of cloth that gets to wrap around your cunt all the time. Like you can read his mind, you pull him off with breathless laughter at his inevitable moan of sadness and mumble words of reassurance that you're doing it for his benefit.

He can't really hear with the rush of adrenaline roaring in his ears but he surely sees how you rip the offending thong away. It tears easily, falling apart at its most sodden point. And finally, your pussy is truly bare all for him and he rushes to dive back in. Slurping and sucking at your drenched hole like a dehydrated man finding an oasis in the desert.

Again, Chan's intentions were to leave you weak with the magic his mouth and tongue could work but you don't really allow him. His neck's cranked at an awkward angle as you continue to grip at his hair and smother his lips and tongue with your cunt, sloppy ruts back and forth causing your clit to catch and bump against his nose. He doesn't mind even if he's ninety-nine percent positive this is how you'd get off on one of your toys — no, he definitely has not imagined that — but he's not complaining.

There's something in the way that you're utterly using him like he's nothing but an object for your ultimate pleasure. It has the blood rushing down to swell up his cock even more. And maybe he's willingly happy to do so. Offering his body for your pleasure, making sure to stiffen his tongue so it will hit part of your clit as you move and grind all over his face. 

It's kinda hot. He also might be enjoying this a little too much.

And just as his eyes roll up for the umpteenth time out of delicious, delirious dizziness, he feels it. 

The buildup must have been when you started humping his chin shamelessly, slamming down harshly enough that he's sure he'll have bruises to show off. Settling more and more of your weight forward to arch your back, breasts heavy as they follow gravity, and your nipples visibly poke through the crop top's thin material. 

Your hips jerk up and away a few times, the subtle wiggle in them certainly has your ass jiggling cutely. He also notes how your "ah" moans turn to "mhms", positive you're biting your lip with closed eyes and a pleased grin. By now the hands tangling in his hair have made their way to the back of his head and Chan knows one thing for sure.

You're on the brink of climaxing.

And as much as he wants you to make more of a mess on his face, he's a little afraid of what you might do — or might not do — so he obediently, but regretfully backs away and sinks down to sit on his heels. Pathetic, the way he has to simply watch like a good boy as your slit flutters above him and you release the death grip hold you had on his poor hair.

Once all of your weight is supported by the wall again, you slide down it to plop on the floor. A sheepish grin on your face as you praise him for doing such a great job, reveling in what a sexy, fucked-out look he's wearing — mussed-up hair, swollen lips, and a shiny mix of sweat and arousal decorating his face as his eyes struggle to refocus while he catches his breath.

He embarrassingly thinks you might kiss him when you lean in. Only to jolt with surprise at your hand slipping into his back pocket and he flinches after you squeeze at his well-shaped ass with a naughty giggle. 

"A souvenir," you murmur in his ear and he feels the spongy ball of your torn thong when he stands like it's a gold coin weighing down his jeans.

"Can't believe you ripped those yourself."

"Can't believe you didn't rip them."

"Didn't wanna ruin them," he admits because he'd honestly feel bad. Though you shoot him a funny look that he doesn't quite understand as he assists your wobbling frame on the walk to the bedroom.

"Dude, you've already ruined so many, what's one more pair?"

"Huh?"

It's amazing how serious you are when you ask, "Don't you remember how wet I've been getting thinking about your dumb cock? Almost ran out of panties to wear."

With that admission, Chan is immediately rushing you down the hallway and has you on his bed at record speed. It's so comical that you have no choice but to once again fall into that giggly headspace like earlier as you help one another strip each other's clothes off.

"God, why are you like this? Such a fucking little tease."

"You love it."

"Hm, yeah," he looks at you with such tenderness, "guess I do."

You verbally agree even as you grab at his wrist before he can throw his boxers to the ground. "Hand 'em over. It's only fair if you have mine," you point out when he raises an eyebrow.

"Someone's full of surprises."

"Well, somebody's loved all of them so I'm sure he'll like this one too."

Though he falls onto his back easily when you push him down, he can't help but raise concern. "I get that you… practiced, but wouldn't a better position be with me on top? You'll like — "

"And I get that you liked being used like a dildo, baby boy." 

You miss the chagrined look that rapidly spreads across Chan's pretty face at the callout. But that's okay because you turn around to throw a leg over and straddle his prone body, staring at your prize of the night — the fattest dick you've been fantasizing about in the flesh.

"Thanks for these, by the way." You send a wink at him over your shoulder, waving the boxers that dangle off your pointer finger. "Need something to bite onto," you add and moan when you deliberately let your tongue meet the salty patch of precum smeared on them before clamping the black cloth between your teeth.

His heavy cock jerks up, already overwhelmed by everything you're doing. His hips follow suit, also lifting once the feeling of your dripping cunt soaks his abs as you sit and press him back against the bed and reach a hand out. He groans, clutching at the blanket when your palm rubs at the sensitive skin. You marvel at how your decently sized fingers fail to fully wrap around the entire girth.

It already weighs a ton laying against the hand you're using and struggling to prop it up. Shining in all its glory from the excess that's leaked and coated it thoroughly. You seem happy to add to it and Chan's eyes widen at the couple of clear globs of arousal that drip out of your cunt, aided by two free fingers spreading your pussy lips and contracting your inner walls to squeeze them out. And then you sink a little lower, kissing the tip of his cock with your clit before rubbing the thick head between your folds.

"You're… you're so w-wet, mhm, fuck!" He's already on the brink of tears and this is just the beginning. And the gasping man might've just let out a sob at the sight of both of your hands shaking, clasped around his dick as you position it at the right angle and slowly ease the tip inside. "God, 'n so soft," he fucking gargles out due to how much he's drooling.

You're no better off. The saliva that's pooling in your mouth at the delightful ache and burn has completely saturated his boxers. They do nothing to muffle your moans that only grow higher in pitch with the few additional inches you attempt to take, a little more each time. But at least you won't grind your teeth together, plus you're buried in the taste and scent of Chan's essence. Even more so as you topple forward, nails digging into his shins.

It's almost humiliating. How you've ended up face-planting into the mattress and your hips take on a mind of their own, humping up and down midair yet still on the top of his cock. Circling and gyrating as they attempt to both run away and plop firmly up and down onto the hard, thick length begging to fully bury into your tight cunt that's slowly widening to accommodate. 

Luckily, it's not like Chan can make fun of or even blame you, focusing everything he can on not thrusting up into your wet heat on his own accord right now out of consideration. The man understands it's a stretch, a painful one at that.

He doesn't mind staying mildly distracted. There's so much to take in. Ogling the way your ass bounces and jiggles, pornographic sound effects of his cock absolutely bullying your pussy as it squelches in and out. Filling the room with nasty noises audio porn wishes it could truly replicate amid both of your pants, moans, groans, and whines.

It feels like forever until his length has finally made its home within your squishy walls that welcome it inside with a multitude of affectionate squeezes. But honestly, that barely lasts because your hips refuse to let up and once the stretch no longer burns as much and instead melts into mind-numbing pleasure, all you can do is ride him into delirium. And Chan fucking loves it, continuing to watch how your ass reverberates with each downward slam accompanied by the sting of ass cheeks slapping against his stomach over and over again.

"S-so slutty f'me, b-best friend actin' like a whore on my dick."

"Ah, mm… cock… your cock! It's makin' me act slutty!"

"Yeah? You like being my slutty best friend, baby?"

You lug your head onto the leg you'd been riddling with love bites and salivating all over after spitting out his ruined boxers, looking tearfully in his direction. Cross-eyed with a goofy smile on your face at how fucked-out you've become as your clit grinds against his squishy balls that tighten, firm, and fill up with each thud of your hips. 

"Mhm… yeah."

"You gonna be my slutty baby from now on?"

"Ohhh, touch me Channie… please!"

"Since y-you asked so nicely." He squeezes at your ass cheek though it's quickly wrenched out of his grasp because you can't stop moving. "But I… I asked you a question." And then his palm flies out, skin meeting skin in a loud crack against your other cheek. As if it's actually a punishment. "My pretty whore's too fucked out to answer, h-huh?"

"Mhmph! More… more!"

A gasp leaves your mouth and impossibly, your hips only speed up before they suddenly halt. Practically screaming at this point with how good your best friend's cock is buried so deeply and fully seated inside as you somehow manage to sit up with inhuman strength. 

Oh, but your darling Channie knows why.

He lazily grins, empty mind now playing all the signs through his head along to the same moments happening in real-time. You have a death grip on his thighs, certain he'd really impale you in a morbid way if you lose your hold as you bounce haphazardly. How nice, he decides to aid you — giving into the urges to thrust up into your suffocating little cunt whenever you rise up so you constantly remain stuffed full every single time.

Your back does its arch thing and he runs a hand down the curve, pushing down ever so gently as he takes over. It's his turn for a slapping assault, his balls returning the favor on your tender clit that pokes and rubs at them, egging on the brutal pace you started in the first place.

"Gonna squeeze the life outta me," and you clench even tighter around him so that even the air in his lungs is sucked out by the squeeze of your cunt. "You wanna murder me with that sweet pussy of yours? Choke the life outta me, sweetheart? Like the well-behaved little whore that you are?"

Chants of "yes, yes, yes" fall in between salacious moans of "mhms" and "fuck Channie, so good" and it fuels Chan into true unleashed feral mode. The addition of the white ring forming at the base of his cock in no way, shape, or form is helping to reign him in at all. He presses appreciative bruises into the skin of your hips, aiding your sore and tired legs with the powerful strength of his arms.

"A creamer too… oh my god, what can't your cunt do baby, fuck — so freakin' perfect."

"All… all for you!"

Chan laughs and it's mean, a petulant frown causing your lips to jut out at his mocking tone. "For me? You gonna be a-all mine from now on? Let me be the only one t-to stretch this sweet hole out?"

Ongoing cries of "yes" mixes and slurs with "yours" but it's enough for him, especially when you manage to moan out with a promise that you're definitely his slutty whore and will only be his forever.

That pleases him, an elated grumble rumbling in his chest. "Gonna fill 'er up real good and you'll swallow me whole baby. Feel me for days, drippin' outta — ah, shit!" 

His voice cracks, the hands assisting your movements haul your hips up and then down, anchoring them firmly against his pelvis. You peer over your shoulder at him in utter dismay at suddenly being empty. His missed cock trembling without your warmth, flopping hot and hard against your stomach. Granting a helpful outside visual of how deep it can drill up into your cunt. But that's kind of useless when you already experienced it first-hand, so all you can do is send Chan a weepy glare.

"S-sorry babe, we just, I should probably… " His eyes dart to the unopened drawer of his nightstand. "Gonna throw a condom on."

You let out a scoff of disbelief and discontent, surly brat behavior poking through. "Doesn't matter, wanna feel you fill me up. 'N then squirt it all out, won't matter anyways."

"That's not how it works."

Chan's grateful the usual post-nut clarity somehow hit before. It's still awful timing and might have been a complete mood killer but you're both so worked up — you in particular — it doesn't seem to matter. Even as he nudges you off while reaching for a package, you back up and try to grind against his cock to change his mind. But you reluctantly give up, especially when he ends up reacting with a harsher hiss more from rolling the latex down the sensitive length than your plump ass rubbing it. 

You're honestly a little offended. 

He hushes and tries to soothe you. Fumbling with the slick mess around your gaping hole and dipping inside occasionally with one hand as he works on the condom. But you know for a fact you've been ruined because you barely feel a thing after your cunt's been stretched out for and filled specifically with his huge cock. 

Now you just wish he'd ultimately finish the job of ruining you. Oh, and maybe continue some more after. And a lot. 

You grimace because you're able to think too much. And then Chan's finally all ready to go and your cheek is suddenly pressed into the rumpled sheets, nipples brushing deliciously against them. You're pushed onto your forearms and he helps widen your knees at a spread angle so your pussy is fully presentable and gapingly accessible. 

"Good thing I'm flexible." 

"Yeah," Chan licks his lips, "just as I'd expect from my sweet slut." 

"You gonna fill this slut up then, Channie or — " 

You're cute off by the squeal at his cock ramming back inside of where it belongs. Meanwhile, he chuckles darkly, running a hand through sweaty bangs as he tries to distribute weight solidly with how he's risen to his knees. Finding little support from the mattress to support the onslaught of powerful thrusts in and out of your pussy and discovers a better method with a tight hold of your hips where his hands instinctively fall. 

"Best way to shut a whore up is to fuck them." He clicks his tongue in disapproval because you're nuzzling face-first into the bed, muffling the sounds that drive him crazy. "Doesn't mean I don't wanna hear you moan f'me, baby."

What he doesn't know is you're trying to find something to bite into that won't end up being your poor tongue. 

To manhandle you as he sees fit, Chan's fingers slip down to splay around where your vocal cords lie. Thumb digging beneath your jawline into the soft fleshy skin of your neck. Teasing you with a not-quite-there chokehold that causes you to pulsate around the cock sliding in and out with little resistance thanks to the help of the slick that pools endlessly out of your core. 

Then he's turning your head to the side to watch your eyelids flutter rapidly. Noticing how your jaw is clenched, teeth practically gnashing at each push into you that now relentlessly strokes that bundle of nerves. Taking pity, he lends a finger. Prying open your mouth and not caring when you bite down on it with a ferocity that could break skin — that's what he offered it for anyways — though it will definitely leave behind bruising indents that'll take days to heal. 

But he wouldn't care if you ended up breaking his bones too. With the way he's driving his dick over and over into you like a madman, he possibly could break something by that alone. The new position benefits the both of you greatly, granting him a better angle to reach deep and you find comfort in the way his body lays against yours. Pressing you down further into the bed, the weight comforting.

Even through the latex, he can feel the little bump of nerves his tip brushes against that's just rough enough to make him shiver. He purposefully aims his pelvis to be able to hit it each time. The lone arm at your hip wraps around your abdomen and he moans at how he can feel the bulge of skin pressed against his forearm from the size of the monster dick within you. 

It drives him feral, punctuating each sharp thrust with a praising hiss of, "Best. fuckin'. pussy. ever!"

And then it's happening. You can literally see the tightly-wound knot unraveling. Can feel as it loosens while your cunt suctions around his cock in a hard, vice-like grip. You cling around him, refusing to let him leave your warmth for a second. Not even daring to let him slide even a bit out. Though he wouldn't even think of it. As the mental ties come undone in your brain, so does your body — plummeting over and free-falling off the cliff of pleasure.

White flashes across your vision as your body writhes and shakes beneath Chan. Overcome by how fucking amazing it feels to be so full with the devastatingly huge dick of the person you care about the most tearing apart your insides. You're sobbing, tears drenching your face and where it lays. 

Chan's praising you through it all, complimenting how good you are for him, how perfect everything about you is, and how only you — his bestest, sluttiest, sweetest friend — could take him so well.

"Fuckin' knew you would be the one," he confesses and presses a kiss against your neck. It's so tender, full of love and gentleness despite how his hips cruelly still haven't let up, and it makes you wail even louder. "Ever since you smiled at me. Now, c'mon sweetheart 'n give it all to me. Show's only just gettin' started."

He's guiding you through the most intense orgasm you've ever had as it spirals from a crashing wave into a soon-to-be gushing waterfall. Yes, you've squirted before. But never with such a delightful buildup like this. And he knows you can take it, knows it's what you want as he coaches himself to hold off from his own finale. You let out a hearty moan, shaking at the overstimulation and feeling him twitch repeatedly inside. Almost as if his dick itself is begging for your release so it can do the same.

Your body listens and obeys, utterly charmed by your best friend's cock. Not like that would change the impending fate bound to happen anyway. Your cunt expels him out with a spray that splashes against his abs and drips down his thighs. Chan swears and grabs his length that bobs in the air upon being freed, fingers holding the condom tightly at the base like a makeshift cock ring. 

Furiously jerking off just a little bit to reach completion and then he's emptying what feels like a life's worth into the poor condom that can barely contain it. Unlike your pussy that would take it all if given the chance. It inflates, ballooning out and filling up with so much cum it's threatening to pop. As if it wasn't working overtime, straining around the sheer size of his cock.

It's so full and heavy, gravity weighing it down to flop against your folds that squirt out a tiny bit more upon contact that has your legs seizing. Your lower body — now growing numb — was somehow still sustained by Chan's insane one-arm strength until he flops onto you. Bringing you both down onto the wet mess on the bed.

"Get off, you're heavy," you grouch though a dumb smile lights up your blissed-out face.

He laughs breathlessly and rolls onto his side, bringing you into his arms and looking at you with stars in his eyes. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent you never want to be without now that you've been fully encompassed by it in such an intimate manner. So you wait, feeling the way your hearts both beat rapidly and he takes a deep breath. Chest expanding as his lungs fill with much-needed air after so much exertion. 

Anticipation brims from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes when Chan finally asks, "Hey, do you still think size doesn't matter?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. Definitely not the question you were expecting.

There's a lively spark still dancing in his tired eyes and you match it with a playful smile. "I'm not really sure, I think you'll have to prove it to me a few more times."

"Suppose there's still a lot of condoms we can't let go to waste."

"Aw, you don't want me to make you some balloon animals?"

"That offer is tempting but…" Sneaky hands tickle the swell below your breasts and you giggle, half-heartedly batting him away. "Not as much as you are."

"And you know… there's still a lot of chances to confirm some things while we test out whose theory is right."

"Confirm what, my dear? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I've already staked my claim on what's mine." It's embarrassing how easily Chan can read you, a know-it-all smirk on his face as he cups your warm cheek oh-so-lovingly. "My slutty bestie's the only one who can take my cock like a champ, there's no way I'm letting you go now."

It's even more embarrassing that your heart and sore hole flutter at crude words that totally shouldn't make you feel like a silly fool in love. But because you are, it only makes you fall harder.

"So, you're mine now too?"

"If that's okay with you."

And of course, it's okay with you, you verbally affirm. Feeling his smile against your own when he leans in to kiss you. You'll confirm later that size really doesn't matter.  After all, you just happen to be lucky that your bestie-now-turned-boyfriend has a huge cock to complement the equally huge amount of love he has stored for you in his heart.

onlyseokmins: June 2023 ©

[siriusmydeer]

sirus smut please !

something where they’re like in a secret relationship and nobody know so someone flirts with y/n and sirus gets jealous and possessive but y/n is bratty cos she want the relationship to be public so then he leaves her with a bunch of hickies to show everyone she’s his

or something along those lines 🙈😹😹

his girl

sirius black x fem!reader

summary: sirius gets jealous after evan rosier is caught flirting with you.

word count: 2.0k

warnings: possession kink, kissing, penetration, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dom!sirius, sub!reader, borderline humiliation kink, possessive marking, fingering, exhibitionism, borderline voyerism, mentions of sirius’ family, daddy kink, swearing, bratty!reader, mentions of relationship self doubt/insecurity, hair pulling, one degration, mentions of bad stereotypes.

the great hall was staggeringly boisterous, the teachers facepalming at the noise. every murmur from students flowing through your ear drums hastily, while your eyes glimpsed around the crevices of the great-hall for a certain vermillion-clad gryffindor.

you were well aware you wouldn’t have the gallantry to strike a conversation with him but his mere presence was comforting as you idly spoke to your friends. your irises effortlessly catching the shades of umber, navy, emerald and finally famous-scarlet red. 

but, sirius had yet to arrive to the great hall. you creased your brows in deliberation for a moment on where he could be rather than the great hall, the sly jab on your shoulder becoming known as you turned around the face... evan rosier? you had never had a prominent conversation with the boy, rather just a good morning or a subtle head nod.

it was a mere conversation really, just talk of potions and a bit of charms. but mid conversation, the eldest black brother happened to waltz into the deafening hall where everyone had been munching away, his pearly irises catching a glimpse of your standing figure along with a male one, a scene of what looking like some unkempt, filthy slytherin pushing a lock of hair out of his girlfriends face. 

it was a simple gesture really, to yourself at least; just something friendly from a house mate. but to sirius it was like the slytherin boy was almost aching to get into your knickers. to every schoolmates knowledge, you were single and so was sirius, the both of you not even being associated with each other.

the thought of someone even mentioning sirius with a slytherin would’ve been foolish and illiterate. so sirius as a bachelor was extremely alluring to the peering eyes of hogwarts who were almost desperate to even strike a conversation up with sirius before taking it farther. 

after the intentions were abundant in sirius’ mind he made the overused and reoccurring comment that he had to return to his mates. but even then, there weren't running suspicions that sirius black, true womanizer of hogwarts himself, had a girlfriend. 

he almost felt rageful that another male had been flirting with you, he wasn't shocked of course; you were elegant, the way your hair ravished in the wind, your prominent and opulent features of your face were striking. so he couldn't truly blame anyone for wanting to strike up a ‘conversation’ with you in final efforts to go on a date with them after your polite declines, but sirius could sure be bitter and resentful with anyone who tried.

the gryffindor strode over to the two slytherins, the apple in his eye and the filthy prick. his intentions clear in his mind without rationalizing what your unyielding mind might think of his dramatic reactions.

“oi, sorry to interrupt. just got to steal y/n away for a moment, just some questions on the transfiguration homework.” he tenaciously spoke in a quick pace with a grasp on your forearm, your brows wrinkled at the thought of any transfiguration homework you might've been assigned. 

but, in-fact, there was no transfiguration homework. 

“would you like to explain to me as to why you childishly pulled me away from my conversation, you know that's rude sirius” you puffed at his hast pace throughout the hallways until he had found an uncrowded and more private corridor. 

“would you like to explain to me why evan rosier is flirting with my girl?” he inquired back dramatically, you percerviered his behaviour with an eyeroll and a sigh emitting from your lips whilst you crossed your arms in irritation.

“ahh, that's just it. maybe its because he doesn't know i’m your girl , or anyone for that matter. because what,” you annoyingly jabbered in question, moving your hand to shell around your ear in his direction once you continued to speak, “sirius black doesn't want the school to know he’s in a relationship with.. a slytherin.” you spoke dramatically to prove your point further, removing your hand from your ear and back to be crossed with your other arm.

a scowl carved in his face at your insinuation that he was ashamed to be dating you, when rather that wasn’t the case at all. it was partially due to the fact that he didn't fancy for his family to pry in his private life as he was the only walking gryffindor in the noble house of black. he was privy to their obnoxious behaviour in sticking themselves in other peoples business, and rather minding their noses to themselves. 

but as time continued he was also becoming aware to your petty behaviours at the knowledge that he might've been reluctant and abashed to be with you; the colour you were addressed in the, hues of viridescent, something labeled in the eyes of the hogwarts as malicious and evil. rather than your personality that he had truly undressed as quick-witted, diligent and versatile. 

“alright then, i guess i’ll be showing those pricks who you belong too.” he murmured under his breath whilst shaking the nob of the sterling silver broom closet, your eyes narrowed why he was attempting to open a broom closet in the moment of your conversation.

your question throughly answered by the hostile grip he had on the crevice of your waist, your back almost instantaneously rubbed against the, now closed, oak wood door. the heavy breathing prominent in the small confined space at the touch of his lips on your jugular.

the suckle of his lips was enough for you to grasp onto his forearm that had been hanging in the air from his hand pressed against the door, your body slightly writhing against his chest at his sealed lips on the base of your jugular.

the recurrent bobbing in your throat was extrusive, your mouth emitting minuscule mewls from his extensive afflictions onto your flesh. the small bloom of scarlet now forming onto your skin from the modest graze of his pearled teeth.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he chided in remark lowly into the shell of your ear before grasping on the curvature of your jaw, his lips suctioning at the centre of your throat; prominent to anyone who would even glance in your direction and being able to glimpse and vermillion how imbedded into your skin.

his nimble fingers jerking onto the small lace against your hip, the glide of the flimsy material of your underwear now clutched against your thighs. his palm remainingly clutched onto the nape of your neck to anchor you against the wall, his opposite fingers dancing north onto the planes of your thighs.

his lips still suctioning across the dermis of your flesh, the pad of his middle finger now pressed onto your swollen clit. the swirl of his fingers emitting a gasp from your throat, his very touch having your hips bucking into the smoothness of his palm.

the graze of his teeth against your pulse point causing you to whimper into the poorly ventilated air of the closet. the pads of his finger sultry dragging down to the folds of your cunt, throughly encasing your cunt around his fingers inside of your walls whilst he was diligently turning your skin to the light hue of maroon from his lips.

“please, please daddy— need you, need you so bad.” you trembled through a jutted lip, your pleas for him extraordinarily clear but your words almost incoherent from the duration jumbled sentence.

“needy baby, you are.” he chastised, removing his hands from the warmth of your cunt; as the feeling of emptiness was abrupt it spewed a whine from your throat. in elation of your sexual yearning, the clutter of his belt hit the stone frigid tiling of the closet along with his ashen slacks; the feeling of his prick erected from the desperate mumbles you had spoken now free from his boxers.

the drag of his cock through your folds had enough effect onto your edged nervous system was tempting, the quiver in your legs and the tremble in your throat from the recurrent whines in anticipation was enticing to him.

the raise of your leg that was bound to his hip was so desirable he wished to see the scene in third person, he could bet billions of galleons on how desperate you looked for him just by the grasp of your fingers onto the dress shirt wrapped around his waist.

his prick was able to collect the dribbling arousal from your cunt, managing to push himself into the depths of your cunt with one roll of his hips. the exceeding breath you took at the collision between his cock and you g-spot was extraordinary.

the pacing moment he took for you to adjust was almost nothing when his hips succeed in a sultry recurrent grinding motion. you wailed at the stimulation of his palms kneading the flesh of your backside between his fingers whilst his hips without falter pulsed into the crevices of your clenched walls.

at his diligent and unwavering thrusts a low and interminable moan escaped the apex of your lips, your mind in a blear, unable to determine anything besides the male that had been promptly fucking your cunt with wavering students just outside.

the groan of pleasure purging from his mouth directly onto the swollen flesh of your neck, the vibrational signals scattering onto your nerves at his decree. his lips directly pressed onto the searing flesh of the side of your jugular whispering the fine words, “i’m going to breed you like my bitch, understand puppy?” sirius inquired.

you whimpered at his precise words onto your skin, the hast nod of your head almost pressing against his flushed cheek. your cunt ever so extremely sensitive you could feel every crawling vein on the thickness of his girth, the intensity of his thrusts only continuing when you were on the brink of your release.

“wanna cum daddy, please let me.” you whimpered into the carnal aroma that was scattered across every atom of air of the confined space, a growing plea for permission to finish going straight to his mind whilst he continued thrust inside of you.

“alright puppy, wanna cum with you. gonna fill you with m’babies, yeah?” he tantalizing questioned, apprehensive to the fact that you would blearily nod in submission to him, and him only.

which is exactly what you did.

the root of your hair nearly painful from his infliction at the grasp on your tresses, suddenly painting your walls with thick ribbons of his pallid, ivory seed. your over-broiled and spilt release occurring right before his own, at the churning meld of euphoric elation on every pending nerve into your blood stream.

his fervidly slipped out from your cunt, fleetly tucking himself away and grasping onto the black flimsy material of your knickers that had been sprawled against your left ankle, now promptly gliding them over your limbs and onto the waistline of your hips; your ashen coloured skirt covering your knickers but scarcely covering the swell of your bum, considering the hem work that had been done since the first semester of the school year.

his release promptly spilling out of your cunt and a small dribble subtle on your thighs, but exceedingly more prominent as it oozed from your lace knickers. you were utterly bewildered at the tap of his fingers against your bottom as he ushered you out of the closet you had spent your previous venereal moments in.

“you wanted everyone to know, hmm? this is what you asked for.” he stated with a smirk at the slight humiliation you were bound to endure at the glinting eyes of hogwarts viewing at the marks almost tattooed into your jugular.

as you wobbled over to the great hall not many people paid any mind to sirius’ hand beckoning you around, besides the same green clad slytherin that had been his trifling pursuits for you, his eyes enlarged at the marks ridden over your flesh.

“oh fuck me.” you muttered under your breath as more people started to glance around the great hall, at the never to be bound together couple standing together in the centre of the great hall.

“already did.”

taglist: @falling-loki @ronbrokemyheart @aricela @inglourious-imagines @kirascottage @five-cups-of-coffee @myloveforluna @abbott27 @hufflepuffsfordraco @slytherclawbitch

[thecheesiestcheese23]

the will to live ( was only a whisper before i went )

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR TECHNO'S PHIL'S QUACKITY'S AND SAM'S LORE STREAM

Rumors were hard to ignore.

They spread around, scattered in the wind as more and more people started to believe its faulty truth.

Rumors were hard to ignore, especially when the truth started to leak out. Technoblade had been gone for three months. Three months too long, in Phil’s opinion, but there was nothing he could do now. All he would do was wait and hope that Techno would be able to survive in the prison.

However, Phil would not worry so much if he didn’t know one key factor.

Techno was at one life. He had foolishly lost two of them in hypixel when he was a kid, too cocky and too confident for his own good. One misstep and one swing later, he rested at two lives. One faulty move and one arrow later, he was on his last life. He had learned enough from his mistakes, he told Phil one day, and he made sure to never make them again. He hid it from the rest of the world, joking around and acting as if he was still at three lives, rushing into battle at a moment’s notice.

Phil knew the possibilities of Techno coming back to him alive, and he knew that Techno knew that too. He had seen it in his eyes and in the way he moved, had seen right through him as if he were looking through ice. But he had let him go with a forced smile and a promise that they would see each other again, no matter how long that may be.

A will was placed in his hands with a promise to not open it for three months, but those three months had come and gone, and now the will rested in Phil’s hand, waiting to be opened and read.

Dear Philza Minecraft, the will began with.

I am going to the prison to visit Dream and make sure he’s alright. If I do not return within a few days, activate the pearl I left in our book club’s meeting room.

Of course, their pearl stasis chamber, how could Phil have forgotten? A laugh bubbled up and out of his throat, relief flooding through his body. There was hope after all, and a chance of getting Techno safely back to the Arctic. Not wasting a second more, Phil threw on his coat and ran outside, his wings taking flight.

His wings beat against the harsh winds, snow entangling itself between his feathers and his hair, clutching on for dear life at the speed he flew. Not soon enough, he was at the entrance of the stronghold. He barreled down the lava and landed in the water that rested below. He skidded on the ice, sliding through the corridors as he made his way through all the twists and turns.

He finally made his way to the portal room, hope coursing through his veins as he made his way to where Techno’s seat was and-

Oh.

The pearl was gone.

And with that, Philza broke, collapsing on the stone floor. Cries of anguish echoed throughout the empty room, never to be full again. At least then no one was there to witness him break. Techno was gone- gone for good this time.

And Phil had a strange feeling that even if the pearl was there, it would only teleport back Techno’s remains.

If the pearl is gone, well, it was nice knowing you. Look after the others for me when I’m gone.

____________________

I left my valuables in a barrel hidden in the top floor’s ceiling and a chest under the stone in a corner of that one weird room under the house with the potions. Distribute them as you see fit. Please keep Steve and the foxes well-fed, the wolves can be released into the wilderness.

Steve was curled up on his owner's bed, the bed creaking against his weight. He whined, nose burying itself between his paws.

The foxes pulled at their leads, searching for the one with pink hair and kind words, but to no avail.

Yipping sounded throughout the forest, the once blood-hounds exploring the forest. They searched all around, but could not find the one they had gone to war with.

Tell Ranboo and Niki that they’re stronger than they know.

A knock sounded throughout the near-empty mansion, causing Ranboo to jump. He recognized the pattern of the knocks, a grin forming on his face.

“Phil! You startled me-” Ranboo smiled at the other as he opened the door, but it slipped off of his face as his gaze landed on Phil.

Phil’s hair was ruffled and dried tear tracks covered his face. He avoided eye contact as he spoke, voice wavering.

“Techno’s gone.”

____________________

Niki was working away at her city, beads of sweat forming on her face as she moved objects around. Her city was coming together nicely, and she just needed to put some finishing touches to complete it.

However, she was interrupted by a knock at the entrance. She looked up in curiosity, recognizing the pattern as Phil’s.

“Phil! How nice of you to visit-” She said as she climbed up the staircase, coming face-to-face with Phil. She paused as she took his appearance in. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head wordlessly, “Techno’s gone.”

Tell Tommy that I hope he finds what he’s looking for, whatever that is.

The day was calm with a slight breeze rustling through the trees, a perfect day for Tommy to bring Shroud out.

“Remember what I taught you, big man, stay close to me, don’t wander off, if you see anyone, anyone at all, you alert me, and if I get into trouble, you run all the way back home and hide, okay?”

“Okay!” Shroud happily chirped from where they sat. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Tommy clutched Shroud’s hand, opening the door to reveal Philza, hand raised like he was about to knock.

“Philza Minecraft.” Tommy said, voice cold. He gestured at Shroud to leave the room, which they reluctantly did. “What do you want?”

“It’s about Techno.” Phil looked defeated as he spoke.

Tommy’s heart started to hammer in his chest as a pit started to form in his gut. If Phil was coming to him about Techno- then something was horribly wrong.

“What’s wrong with Techno?” He demanded.

“He’s gone.”

Phil, I’m glad I met you in this life.

“Where is he?”

The Warden looked up from where he sat, not surprised to see Phil’s face.

“Philza, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you here to the prison?”

“You know full well why I’m here, and I’m only going to ask once more. Where is Technoblade?” Phil spat out, rage coursing through his veins.

The Warden remained silent, the only sound filling the room being keys typing away.

“Listen, if you don’t give him to me, I’ll destroy this prison bit by bit until all that’s left of it is its charred remains.”

“You want him so bad? Fine.” With that, The Warden typed some words into the computer, and a circular tube similar to a coffin appeared out of the wall.

His heart dropped as he saw the tube, mind screaming as he dared to look at what was inside. He didn’t want to confirm his suspicions- but something urged his body to peer into the tube.

It was Techno’s body, scarred and burnt but still recognizable. He knew that Techno was dead, but confirming it just hurt so much more. “Who.” His voice was quiet, almost muted.

“Quackity.” The Warden simply said, eyes focused on the computer. “He’s in Las Nevadas.”

Phil wordlessly nodded, carefully picking up his body and cradling him in his arms. “Thank you,” with that, Philza walked outside and took off, tears slipping down his face.

For you, the world.

Techno’s grave was placed atop of the mountain.

The gravestone was carved with care, with the prettiest flowers blooming above it.

Five people came to his grave.

Ranboo mourned the loss of his mentor, and at the missed chance of showing Techno his family. He was sure that Michal would have loved Techno, even if the other was cold towards children. Techno’s axe was clenched tightly in his hand, his tears and the snow burning his skin, but he found that he didn’t have the energy to care.

Tubbo stood from afar when he visited, fists at his side as he felt both anger and sadness at the one six feet below. His mind screamed at the other for hurting him, for taking his childhood away so soon, but yet his body stood still as if he was made of stone.

Niki visited when she was sure no one was there, and she cried. She screamed at Techno for leaving and screamed at the world for taking her friend away too soon. She cried and yelled for what seemed like ages until her throat was sore and it felt like she swallowed shards of glass.

Tommy visited when it was still day out, allumins clutched tightly in his hand. He wordlessly planted them in the ground, dirt and tears staining his shirt. When he left, the Axe of Peace rested next to Techno’s grave.

Philza visited last, his feet dragging in the snow. He sat there in front of the grave, mind numb. He didn’t know how long he sat there but he knew that when he got up, it was day once more. Phil didn’t want the world if Techno wasn’t going to be in it, but he knew that Techno would want him to move on.

But there was something he had to do first.

____________________

Clouds of smoke filled the air as a fire raged on Las Nevadas. Three people stood in front of the fire, gazing at the sight before them. Quackity laid dead beneath their feet.

“For Techno.” Phil said.

“For Techno.” They echoed.

I love you.

[just-a-creep-babe]

HABIT nsfw please

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

Part one

Eheheh I would’ve edited this further but it’s been in my drafts for sooo long I kinda just wanna release it 😅

Warning: contains dub-con

You stumble through the threshold, clutching your stomach, feeling the wet warmth of your own blood staining your shirt

You’re alive

Exhausted and nearly mortally wounded but very much alive

A cough rakes its way up your throat and you spit out the taste of pennies on the floor

You need a shower

Your body’s slow and sluggish, and everything hurts as you take it one step at a time up the stairs

Down the hall you go, all the way to the bathroom

You close the door and lock it behind you, an early morning sun peaking through the windows so you’ve no need to flick the lights on

You reach out to turn on the shower but your legs buckle beneath you, muscles sore and overworked, and you collapse in a bloody, filthy heap on the ground

You can’t help it anymore

You break down crying

•••

A few hours later, after a warm shower that’s left you with some semblance of normalcy, you’re clean and snug in bed

You fall into a deep, blissfully empty sleep

When you wake up, your room’s drenched in darkness

You must’ve slept through the whole day

But then you feel it—a pressure on your eyes, wrapping around your head, and the taste of something foreign in your mouth

Your ankles and wrists are subjected to an identical force tying them down

Panic flitters through your sore body, mind reeling, seething with one word, one name

Habit

Thinking of the devil; you hear him chuckle

His touch meets the bare skin of your leg, and you have to hold back a shudder

“I have to say, I’m impressed, little (y/n)~” he purrs

Your heart jumps as he glides his hand up, up, all the way to your thighs, fingers fanning out, feeling the smooth goosebump-ridden flesh of your skin

“I didn’t expect you to survive. You’re stronger than I thought,” he continues

You jerk in your bonds as he reaches the hem of your tank top, slowly bundling up the fabric

His mouth is warm, breath hot as he grazes his teeth just below your navel

You whimper and whine beneath him

This can’t be happening

“I respect that, little rabbit,” he murmurs, “But it doesn’t change what you did… and I don’t like keeping dishonest pets”

You’re breathing heavily through your nose, chest shuddering, heaving with muffled gasps

His thumb rubs circles into your hips, touching you almost unbearably softly

“The only reason…” he brushes a finger between your legs, “I’m letting you stay…is because you still have some use to me”

You yank against the ties around your ankles but you’re utterly helpless

He hushes you, tutting

You‘re a prey beneath a predator

A stronger, faster, hungry predator

You loathe how fitting his nickname is for you

Your heart’s beating a mile a minute, breaths short and frantic as you uselessly writhe in your restrains—pathetic little rabbit

“And I think, with the right training, we could easily fix that little disobedience streak you’ve got going, hm?”

You shake your head, swallowing thickly, nearly trembling beneath his touch

His fingers return to stroke through the damp fabric of your panties, and you hate how your body’s betraying you, your sex already warming in anticipation

“Mmh, and look at that, already nice and wet for me~”

His voice is deep and gravelly as he cups your heat, rubbing the pad of his thumb over your clit

“So here’s the deal, little rabbit. You give me what I want when I want it, and in return, I’ll still let you stay here, with that pretty little head still attached to your body—lucky you~”

You bite back a mewl as he tugs the material of your panties to the side, revealing your glistening cunt perfectly on display for him to sink a finger between hot, puffy folds

“In fact, I think I’m feeling so generous—“

He sharply twists his finger and your back arches, hips bucking as a sickeningly filthy moan slips from your gagged mouth

“That I’ll even give you a chance to leave all of this behind, (y/n). All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll let you go. How does that sound, hm?”

You know he’s just toying with you, and it’s absolutely aggravating, but you’re desperate and hopeless and you fall for the bait anyways

Squirming and jerking, you try to beg through the gag, but all that comes out is a muffled jumble of words

He chuckles at your naïveté and pushes another digit into your welcoming heat

“What’s that? Are you trying to say something? Speak now or forever hold you peace, little bunny~” he snickers

Your walls pulse around him, legs tensing as your incoherent pleads grow louder and more frantic

He nestles his thumb against your pearl again, slowly rubbing side to side and your body reacts infuriatingly well to his ministrations

“Aw, it looks like you wanna stay with little ol’ me after all. I’m flattered~”

He jams his fingers into you and it has your toes curling, muscles seizing with a scream bubbling from your throat

Your eyebrows knit together as he pumps his fingers out before cramming them back into you in one harsh motion

You squeeze your eyes shut, tears welling as you try to withhold countless scattered moans because he feels so fucking good

“Atta girl~” he breaths huskily, and just the sound of him has you clenching madly again

He doesn’t hold himself back from fucking you on his fingers faster and harder

Every push of his digits hits something magical inside your drenched spongy walls

Your back arches again, legs and arms tensing against the restraints, trying to kick yourself free from the overwhelming stimulus he keeps forcing into you

With your sight taken from you, every little touch is so much more intense

It’s like your nerves are burning—a mind-numbing ecstasy taking command of your entire form

You can already feel your orgasm encroaching, the sensation building like a heady drug completely consuming you

“Good little bunny~ I can already feel you tightening up around me. Surely, you won’t cum that fast, will you?”

Much to your chagrin, his mocking coos somehow only make you warmer

The chorus of whiney moans and desperate mewls dripping from your gagged lips become a symphony blurred by the adrenaline pounding in your ears

When all of a sudden, the wet warmth of his mouth tugs at your nipples, and it becomes too much to handle

Your body lurches—toes curling, hands balling into fists—but even throughout the bliss of your orgasm, he doesn’t stop slamming his fingers into the depths of your drooling cunt

Your thighs shake either side of him, a pathetic scream wrenching its way from your throat

You want to tell him to stop—dear god, he has to stop, it’s way too much—but even if you weren’t bound and gagged, with the way he keeps fucking you so thoroughly, you can’t seem to do anything but jerk and cry out ceaselessly

His fingers brush against a spot and your entire form goes rigid, like you’ve lost complete control of your body

You scream

You’ve only ever heard of what it felt like—never once did you think you’d actually experience it

But there’s no mistaking the way your cunt gushes out with a surge of unimaginable pleasure

All of your senses are taken over all at once by the same deafening sensation crashing through you

You don’t know how long it lasts, but by the time he finally pulls his fingers free, you’re breathless and utterly wrecked

Part of you is thankful for the blindfold now; you’d be mortified to see his arms and chest glistening with your arousal

“Mmh… not bad, bunny~”

You cringe, trying to drown out what sounds like him lapping at your slick on his fingers

“Looks like I made the right decision in keeping you alive after all”

Your heart drops at the unmistakable clanging of a belt being unbuckled

“Don’t think I’m already done with you for the night. After all, it’s only fair that you owe me”

[btssmutficslovingfan01]

Omegaverse Horny

Summary: You’re conveniently left alone with your crush who also happens to be an alpha. What happens when your heat strikes and all you can do is listen to your instincts?

Words: 2.9k

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Producer! Namjoon, Camerawoman! reader, breeding kink, knotting, unprotected sex, Alpha/Omega/Beta Dynamics, Big dick Joon (his cock can grow), Y/n is omega-horny

A/N: Happy belated b-day Joon!  🥳 🥳 🥳 I wrote this on a whim, completely unplanned. 

“You’re doing it wrong. You’re supposed to staple it like this.”

“Oh-oh. I’m sorry producer-nim. Today’s shooting was hard. The head cameraman made me redo shots and my arm is all numb from holding it in one place for so long.” 

You vent to the dimpled man as he gazes at you with familiar golden eyes. His wolf is calling to you, you can almost hear him from within, playfully tugging at your wolf’s ears. Alphas and omegas are supposed to be the best mates after all. 

The newest laws were placed about a year ago, to ensure that Omegas weren’t mistreated, because of your infamous reputation for being weak and just breeding holes for your alphas’ knots.

Werewolves have existed in human culture for hundreds of years now, the two integrating fully in peace since humans were just dormant werewolves, technically. They were what you would call “betas,” and these people do not have a heat or a rut as strong as alphas and omegas possess. Unfortunately, they also cannot help inner wolves with their heat, since their Hydes are in a state of comatose. A dead Hyde means they can never reproduce with a wolf. Which is why most betas stick to other betas.

Alphas and omegas have been pretty equal in numbers as of late, enabling most werewolves to have one mate. Before, in 2010, numbers of omegas were so scarce that some alphas had to latch onto omegas in groups, sharing that poor soul until they all successfully knotted them.

Luckily, this reduced the primal urge to be greedy in alphas and made polyamory much accepted in the werewolf community. Betas turned a blind eye to it since in the eyes of society, it was a sin. Especially for women, since most of the time, omega women were being shared by throngs of alpha males. Alpha women were also sharing omega males and it went on like that for any other combinations. 

Now, society has reached a point where breeding is less for reproduction purposes as it is for the thrill of sex. Still, if a werewolf is mated, of course, they’d want to impregnate their partner with pups.

And boy did you have hopes for your crush, Namjoon. He aided you through most of your heats when you were locked in your bedroom alone with just a pile of cock-shaped sex toys.

You were too shy to ask him out on a date, much less ask him to fuck you senseless. You couldn’t even admit that you had a crush on him to his face! You were the weakest omega there ever was.

“Why didn’t he just make you use the crane?” He snaps you back to the real world as you feel a strange liquid pooling down in your pants. You weren’t due for your period, it finished about a week ago. What could this be? The sudden wave of pain in your gut strikes, making you stumble forward and grab onto the desk. “Oh god, are you okay?” Namjoon runs towards you, his sweet scent of pine filling your nose and making your omega whine. His eyes turn a darker shade of yellow, as he peers down at your figure with a frown. “Your scent...why do you smell so sweet little omega?” You bite back a groan as you clutch your stomach, a wave of arousal coursing through your entire body before you turn to look at him.

“M’ sorry alpha. Just didn’t think it would come so soon.” 

“On the floor, sweet. I need to breed you.” A carnal rush of adrenaline kicks in, your heart beating erratically quickly as your crush takes dominion of the situation.

“Why do you wanna do that? I haven’t even told you about how I feel yet…” Your words slur as you drop to the floor, kicking off your ankle boots as Namjoon crawls over you with need. He has an unnatural glow as he leans over you, his lips ghosting your neck as he mutters something under his breath.

“I thought it was obvious, little one. I’m sorry but with your scent, I can’t let you walk out of here without at least knotting you first. My wolf won’t allow it.” You understand, your wolf is just screaming “BREED,” but you’re just barely restraining yourself, helplessly listening to your alpha’s commands. It’s just a state of mind that you can’t control, like your period, or breathing, or another natural function that just happens with no explanation.

“What are you waiting for alpha? Aren’t you gonna knot me?” Namjoon curses under his breath as you press your lips against his in a hasty kiss as if he would run away if you didn’t take action. He kisses back just as aggressively, shoving you back into the floor as he tugs at your clothes and they come off with ease. He takes off his shirt in turn, revealing his glorious abs as he glows in the fluorescent light from the studio. You were currently on the set of an idol-based drama, on the interior of a room made to look like a dance practice room. So there were mirrors and barres and the entire set stretched till the ceiling.

No one could interrupt you here, since shooting wrapped up a long time ago and you were supposed to stay back with Namjoon to sort through and pick the final shots for the project. You were too wrapped up in each other to care about your work now, you still had about five hours to go.

“J-Joon!” You moan out his name, scratching his back with your claw-like nails as he sucks your nipples harshly through his teeth. Your lower body is shuddering, arousal coating your clit as Namjoon casts away your skirt and panties. 

“Mmm smells so good.” Without hesitation, he laps at your folds, your entire body shuddering with desire and a grin spreading across your face as you bite back a moan.

“Namjoon,” You moan again, as he delivers kitten licks to your core and swirls his tongue around your pearl before coating your hole in spit. He spits on your clit, the cold saliva making you tense up but loosened up your pussy so he could fuck you as he wanted. “Don’t hold back.” Your omega squeaks as Joon pushes himself in with no warning, your entire body thrashing beneath him as you climax all too quickly.

“Ahhhhh, you’re squeezing me. This little omega pussy is taking my cock so well.” Your inner walls clamp down on him as he moves quickly, his speed decreasing in response to your weak body’s reaction. Your body couldn’t simply take a big dick like his so easily if it wasn’t for your heat releasing extra fluids. Thanks to that, Namjoon was able to slide his generous length into your narrow hole. You were so tiny compared to him, the only thing that was “big” about you was your breasts.

Namjoon rips off your shirt next, and then he unhooks your bra and tosses it aside before squeezing your breasts between his warm hands and inhaling your delectable scent. He was wholeheartedly ready to devour you, but his wolf was not going to let him do anything else if he did not fill you with his knot.

You knew the day would come when you turn to an alpha to satisfy your needs and fuck you until you’re pregnant with his pups, but this was happening all too fast. You were unmarried, unhinged, and practically bouncing off the walls. You’ve never even had sex. You were a virgin, so stupid and silly for thinking things would work out for the last 26 years of your pathetic life.

“Joon.” You call out his name, eyes glazed over with lust as he crawls between your legs, and in all his naked glory, he thrusts his unsheathed cock into your sopping hole. Salacious sounds of cock and pussy echo throughout the room, sweat dripping from his forehead as he pushes in and pulls out, his cock covered in your essence, a putrid stench of cum clinging to his perfectly shaped mushroom tip. However, it smells like the best thing in the world to him.

“Take my knot little omega, I’m gonna fuck my knot into you. Just remember, you’ll feel a little bit of pain and once I start I can’t stop so tell me.” You’re in too deep to stop. Your eyes bore into each other as you nod, giving a small “yes,” before allowing Joon to let his wolf take over. “Wanna bite. Smell so good...mmm I bet you’ll look even prettier with your belly swollen with my pups.” You can tell the person speaking isn’t your Joon. It’s his wolf, the one who dictates the more...animalistic decisions for Namjoon. You know it’s him because of the deep rich quality of his voice. Joon doesn’t use a deep voice at all, now that you think about it. You’ve read about it too, the wolf is the only one who can knot you.

“Alpha, your cock is so big..” You trail off, muscles tightening as your core clenches around the exceptionally big dick. Was it always this big or did it just grow? Must be your imagination. Either way, you’re ready to take his knot. At least, every ounce of your wolf is screaming for you to take it. You have a lot more control than your wolf, so luckily it is safer for you to be out while your wolf watches from the sidelines. Mating is something one should not take lightly, and while you may be on your heat, your mind is still clear enough for you to make rational decisions.

It’s just that this time ‘round, you’re horny and your crush just so conveniently happened to be at the same place at the same time. Plus, he seems to be into the whole thing. A man that doesn’t run from you? You weren’t ugly, you weren’t gorgeous. You were just slightly prettier than the average girl. That’s it.

“Stop crying. Your sole purpose is to take my knot, so take it. I know you can, sweet omega. You’re all slicked up for me,” He gathers your slick up with his fingers, before pushing it up your slit and making you buck your hips against his hardening cock as the next wave of arousal pulses through you. His cock is rigid, and all you can do is bite back your screams as your alpha moves slightly. “Shit, at this rate I’m gonna rip you apart.” Namjoon looks down in worry, as he sees that his cock isn’t moving the way he wants it to go. Sometimes men are so humorous as sometimes they are blessed with large assets but they have no clue on how to use it. You loved how he would sometimes take control of his body again, since his wolf was more aggressive and you just really needed reassurance again before he proceeded to fuck his knot into you. 

The affection is present in his voice as he apologizes for moving a bit too quickly, as you can feel every inch of him deep in your hole. You didn’t think his dick could reach so many inches, and neither did you have knowledge of your body being able to handle the stretch without a single drop of blood. You were surprised the floor was still clean considering you and Joon had leaked a lot. Whatever didn’t go in your pussy landed on the floor. You were going to have to use a mop..

“I’m okay, just please knot me already so we can get to work. My heat won’t let me off.” Namjoon growls underneath his breath as you shift beneath him, your thighs beginning to ache as the man readjusts your position so that both your thighs were wrapped around his hips.

“I know how you feel. My wolf won’t let me do anything else if I don’t take care of you. It’s my duty, as an alpha,” He groans, sensations of your clenching heat wrapping around his cock overwhelming his alpha hyde. His wolf growls for more, as Namjoon fingers your velvety folds and you watch him through the mirror as he rubs your clit in circles at the same time as he thrusts his cock into you at a relatively fast pace. He’s sped up, since you were keeping up with him. “Oh my god, it’s coming. I’m gonna fill you-” Before he could get another word in, a small squeal leaves your lips.

You were being knotted, truly knotted as his gunky cum gets embedded in your womb, your entrance covered in glistening alpha-slick as he marks you on your neck, biting down on a spot that’s only reserved for mates. Technically, any wolves that do the deed are considered mates, but this mark shows commitment, that you are bound to another wolf by more than just a physical tether. 

You knew he liked you more than just a quick fuck. Your omega bows to him, as you quickly get to work on licking his neck too, like the gentle omega you are, you mark his neck too, as softly and painlessly as possible. The golden-eyed alpha smiles at you before covering his retracting penis with his hands. You simply grin at him, too blinded by your affection for him to notice his shrinking penis.

“It’s a normal bodily function. I know how knotting works. Although, I don’t think I’m pregnant. I had a birth control implant placed a year ago in case anything went wrong and I was in danger. You know, small omega, big city.”

Instead of reacting how other alphas normally would, your crush just presses the most gentle, feathery kiss on your forehead. You feel your nipples harden again from the memory of his touch. He lets out a low, sexy chuckle before turning to grab his clothes from the ground.

“Sorry I couldn’t take you out to dinner first. As much as I like wining and dining my women, your heat backed me into a corner. I couldn’t ignore my wolf either, since you were a needy omega who could only be relieved by the help of an alpha.” You blush, as he throws you your clothes as well so you could get changed and finish working.

“Don’t be. Maybe this was supposed to happen one way or another. I mean, how long do you think I would’ve lasted if you continued teasing me so rudely?” Now it’s Namjoon’s turn to be confused. He has no recollection of such a memory, he never intended to tease you with any of his actions in the past.

“Pardon? I don’t understand.” You frown at his feigned innocence. He knew you had a crush on him, so he purposely did all those things.

“Oh, you know what you were doing. “Dropping your papers” so you could pick them up, showing off that nice ass to the entire world. Damn, were you trying to kill me?”

“Actually-”

“And don’t get me started on all those times you raced by my desk so you could get a paperclip. The way you reached up to the top shelf was sinful. With muscles like those, you could do a lot more than carrying boxes, my dear,” He stopped trying to talk in between your rant since you were too busy thirsting over him as he kept his arms folded. “Fuck, I’m getting wet just thinking about how you would sometimes pat your thighs while you worked. It’s so fucking sexy for an alpha to be so built. You’re just a hunk, aren’t you? So hopelessly hot.” After your rant is over, Joon just folds his arms and asks,

“Are you done?” 

“Yes.”

“All of those things you mentioned were because of my clumsiness. While you thought I was doing them on purpose, I did drop my papers, and break the paperclips at my desk so I had to get new ones, and the patting thighs thing is a nervous habit. I just don’t get how you made it all sexual in your mind.” You weren’t embarrassed, no. Omegas are sexual creatures, perhaps more sexual than alphas. When you’re horny, it’s a lot more than just getting turned on by a single alpha male. In addition to Joon, the running water from a tap can burst your bundle of nerves, the cameras can make you think about all of the dirty things you could do in front of it, and when you mark up scripts, you can’t help but imagine all kinds of dirty scenarios for the PG-rated scenes you shoot.

“I don’t know, I guess I was just omega-horny.”

“What’s that?” You shrug as he grabs your jacket and you lead him to the PC so you could pick final shots.

“You could guess from the name. Omegas are horny in general. Maybe not all, but I’m one of the ones that get turned on by anything and everything. You better not take advantage of it.” Namjoon smiles sweetly before stealing one last kiss from you.

“Don’t you mean I should take full advantage of it? Use you like my little knothole? Didn’t you say you liked being knotted?” You turn fully red as Namjoon scratches his head in confusion.

“What, did I say something wrong?”

“Nope, I’m just horny.”

[cognacdelights]

the long & winding country roads

my outer banks masterlist

add yourself to my taglist

summary: whilst on a spontaneous drive down the long and winding country roads of north carolina, jj maybank can’t seem to keep his wandering, sinful hands off the playful little miss sat beside him in the passenger seat.

warnings: cursing. dirty talk. sexual content. unprotected sex. semi-public sex. 

The ceaseless, Mid-July sun had reached it’s peak in the cloudless, indigo heavens, relentlessly beating down on the meandering labyrinth of conifer-lined dirt roads that expanded the length and breadth of the scenic, coastal state. A gentle, mechanical hum filled the sweltering, muggy haze that had settled amongst the winding back roads - his heavy, boot-clad foot pressed ever so lightly against the precarious accelerator pedal, holding a comfortable speed which well-exceeded the sign-posted limit. A refreshing, tepid draught caught itself within the tousled, wind-swept locks of her cascading, natural waves as an invigorating surge of adrenaline tugged at the corners of her full, gloss-glazed lips to form an exhilarated, devilish smile.

Her exposed knee rested against the camouflage-printed fabric of his cargo shorts - as his attentive, calloused palm subconsciously placed itself on the glistening, sun-kissed plains of her mid-thigh. The soft, compassionate warmth of his skin against hers compelled her luminous, wanderlust-filled eyes to tear themselves from the picturesque landscape of the open road before her, and fixate on the scuffed, swollen knuckles that resided in her lap. Gently, she ran the velvet-like pad of her thumb across the dry, half-healed scabs and the purple-hued tinge that decorated his rough skin - reminiscing the jealousy-fuelled events of the previous weekend. JJ Maybank had always been possessive of his vibrant, social butterfly of a girlfriend; it was merely a natural instinct when her bewitching allure and sultry magnetism was somewhat of a mating call to the hormone-riddled boys of Kildare Island. Evidently, his well-trained fists were his only defence when the brazenly insolent boys came knocking, answering her oblivious calls.

His grasp, although tender and affectionate, tightened around the soft sun-drenched flesh of her thigh - his chewed-up, unclipped nails digging ever so slightly into the love-marked plains. The thrill of the ardent gesture sent an intoxicating wave of desire throughout her petite, sundress-clad silhouette, forcing her back to subconsciously arch against the crimson, sun-bleached leather of the passenger seat. A haughty, wicked smirk etched itself into the foundations of his fair, stubble-lined features as the delicate pads of his fingertips sensed her yearning body shifting beneath his warm, tantalising touch. Excruciatingly slowly, he began to trail his over-worked fingertips along the voluptuous, tanned lengths of her thighs - his concentrated, cobalt eyes never once veering from the winding, country road before him that was framed exquisitely by the silt-splattered glass of the windscreen.

Reaching the salaciously lacy boundaries of her muted, pastel-pink thong, his teasing digits caressed the delicately sensitive nerves of her flourishing heat through the intricately-patterned fabric. A low, almost inaudible drawl of delight crept to the surface from the depths of her throat, disrupting the otherwise monotonous purring of the old, yet carefully maintained, engine. He began tracing languid, meticulous stripes along the length of her dampening folds - before utilising his masterful thumb, drawing taunting circles against the acute bud of nerves of her clit. The sensational friction of the dew-doused fabric rubbing against her throbbing, intimate heat - guided by the pressure of his skilfully devious fingertips - pulled a louder, more amorous whine from behind the plump, peach-tinted confines of her lips.

After what had felt like an everlasting, agonising eternity of teasing, JJ slipped his audacious digits beneath the rose-coloured, juice-soaked lace. At first his tantalising, tender paws continued their previous caressing motions, painting affectionately ardent strokes against her sensitive skin as he coated his meaty, ring-clad fingers with her pearl-like juices. An ungodly, pleasure-filled moan dissipated into the lukewarm breeze as he forcefully thrust his dew-soaked fingers into her hankering, heavenly hole - curling them in an expertly cavalier fashion against her pleasure point. His impatient, fervent pace increased with each vehement thrust, as his dauntlessly nimble fingertips ventured deeper into her sumptuous warmth - masterfully tending to her acute nerves with an abrupt yet cadenced rhythm.

Her dainty, fragile hands clutched desperately at the searing leather of the passenger seat - her manicured, periwinkle nails grazing harshly against the structured material - as an unholy symphony of lust-filled expletives and enraptured whines projected throughout the vacant, isolated road from her sinful lips. His dark, cerulean eyes flickered to her unravelling silhouette, taking a brief, fleeting second to marvel at the glorious sight of his two fingers pounding in and out of her divine pussy in an over-zealous frenzy. As he returned his intense, focused gaze back to the narrow, tree-lined dirt road before him, he felt the familiar, adrenaline-inducing clenching of her core around his manic digits. His poised length stood to attention, pressing painfully and uncomfortably hard against the tight constraints of his signature cargo shorts, a smug, satisfied smile upturning the corners of his thin lips, “not yet, princess. I want you to cum around my cock.”

With his seductively commanding words uttered, he withdrew his frenzied fingers from the enticing warmth of her core - forcing a helplessly neglected, withdrawal-filled whine to claw against the back of her throat. She peered upwards at the stiff-jawed blonde with her luminous, pleading doe eyes, watching intently as he contently sucked the saccharine juices from his drenched fingers. Going against his lustful demands, out of a pure and carnal desire to orgasm, her petite hands wandered beneath the floating hemline of her scandalously-short sundress. Out of the corner of his fervid eyes, he caught her swift, disobedient movements. He abruptly coaxed her defiant, wandering hands away from the yearning depths of her intimate heat with a hasty, reprimanding slap, “I said, not yet.”

“Then pull over, or something,” her enraptured, desire-filled tone whined in response to his seemingly impossible, agonising demands, “I need to get off.” The heavy sole of his worn-in, scuffed-up combat boot pressed gently against the mud-covered metal of the break pedal, slowing the speeding vehicle to an almost stop. Feeding the torn, leather steering wheel through the calloused plains of his palms, he turned the battered and bruised vehicle down a barely-used farm lane - the roadway marked solely by the two dirt tire tracks leading into the grassy, forest-like abyss. Once completely out of sight and concealed by the untamed, over-grown foliage of the surrounding woods, he cut off the purring engine.

She wasted no time; the second that the melodic, mechanical humming of the engine ceased, she clambered over the neutral-set gear stick and into the comfortable perch of his lap. Her already-bruised knees rested naturally against the well-worn, crimson leather as her luscious, gloss-coated lips instinctively found his. The embrace was ardent and impassioned as his impatient, lecherous hands delved beneath her loose-fitting sundress and lasciviously cupped her voluptuous, bare ass cheeks, gripping onto them tightly. A lustrous moan vibrated against his thin, chapped lips as their hankering, hungry mouths moved together as one in a synchronised display of sheer, salacious yearning - the teasing tips of her manicured fingers running themselves through the unruly knots of his tousled, blonde locks and mischievously tugging at the curled ends.

Growing both bored of mindlessly toying with the dishevelled ends of his sandy waves and ever more eager to feel his pulsing, hardened length inside her aching core, she trailed her dainty, devilish hands down his shirt-clad chest - her perfectly-shaped, lavender-painted nails grazing against the aftershave-stained cotton. They came to rest at the shining, metal buckle of his belt, forcing the faded, tan leather free of the troublesome clasp. His low, raspy tone mumbled a barrage of incoherent compliments as her nimble, delicate fingers fiddled with the zip of his cargo shorts, tugging it down the rusted tracks. She gently palmed his poised, erect length through the thin fabric of his boxers in a salacious retaliation to his earlier reluctance to allow her to reach her euphoric high - however, the lascivious longing that had consumed her throbbing, soaking heat forced her to relent.

Pushing the pre-cum-stained fabric from obstructing her path, his painfully hard dick brushed against the hickey-littered plains of her sun-kissed inner thigh. One dainty, delicate hand coiled around the base of his pulsing span - caressing his length with a few, ardent strokes as the other pushed aside the now excruciatingly damp fabric of her lacy, rose-coloured thong. She positioned his cum-coated tip at the very edge of her thirsting, pearl-drowned entrance, her curvaceous hips moving ever so slightly backwards and forwards to create a euphoric friction between his poised head and her sensitive folds. Sultry whines spilled from her full, peach-glazed lips at the skin to skin contact - relishing in the intense wave of pleasure that overwhelmed her petite silhouette.

His eager, authoritative fingertips pushed down against her sensuous hips, as he yearned for nothing more than to feel the lascivious heat of her soaking, touch-starved pussy clamping around his achingly erect dick. On command, she lowered herself leisurely down his rigid span - a sensual, melodic moan resonating throughout the almost vintage car and bouncing off the dirt-splattered windows. Unchaste, carnal grunts subconsciously spewed from the depths of his throat as she found a steady, rhythmic pace. Her dainty, delicate hands instinctively balled into tight, vice-like fists around the crumpled cotton of his slogan-print t-shirt as her glimmering, glazed-over eyes fluttered closed, basking in the fierce surge of impassioned bliss that wholly consumed her ethereal frame.

Her clear-painted toes curled and her sun-drenched back arched out of pure, ecstasy as his gluttonous, pining hips bucked fervently up to meet with her own - the very tip of his masterful, rigid dick amorously caressing her elusive pleasure point. An angelic harmony of salacious curse words, enraptured whines and lascivious moans proceeded to echo amongst the small, confined space - only spurring the two enthralled teens on in their enamored, fervent embrace with one another. An elated gasp joined her sinful symphony as the rough pad of his thumb began to trace sloppy, hurried figures of eight against her swollen clit in a lustful frenzy, intensifying the blissful exhilaration that coursed through her veins like a high-voltage electrical current.

As the telltale knot of euphoria began to entangle itself within the pit of her stomach - her clothed, love-marked hips began to pick up their pace once more, rapidly riding his hardened span as though her life completely and utterly depended on it. The tight, heavenly clenching of her pre-cum-coated walls swaddling his achingly rigid length signalled her impending orgasm to the indigo-eyed, blonde-haired boy who took it upon himself to increase the pace of their ardent bucks and enamored thrusts by guiding her voluptuous hips against his. His named rolled off her tongue as though it was a sweet, seductive whisper of a foreign language as she couldn’t resist the inevitable any longer; an intense, ecstatic wave of pleasure hit her with the weight of a tonne of bricks as she continued to roll her salacious hips in cadence with his - allowing the hypnotising phenomenon to wash over her.

It was only a mere, several seconds later that she felt the fervid warmth of his hot, creamy cum spurting against the delicate walls of her intimate heat and she was once again throw head first into an exhilarating spiral of intense elation. However, this tidal wave of euphoria was cut drastically short. The emphatic pounding of a heavy, clenched fist against the condensation-laced glass abruptly sobered her disoriented senses. Staring through the fogged-over, dirt-splattered glass was the dark, apathetic eyes of Officer Shoupe - a concoction shock, horror and disgust contorting his ageing, weathered features.

“Shit,” she cursed lowly, the thick droplets of cum tickling against her sun-drenched, hickey-marked thighs as it seeped from between her delicate folds and left a sticky, meandering trail beneath her low-cut sundress, “that’s my dad.”

TAGLIST: @bellaguarneri @drewsephsmiles @spilledtee @outrbanks @ilovejjmaybank @outerbxmalia @parkerpetertingle @milamaybank @jjtheangel @shawnssongs @jayjaymaebank @jjouterbanks @jjcultmain @summerintheobx @rudyypankow @captainpogue @poguelifesurfshop @letsgofullkook @o-b-x @kiarascarreras @maybankslut​ @jjs--whore​ @jiaraendgame

[spoiler1001]

Lucien laid next to Caleb, his tail waving in the air. Caleb was sleeping, his breath shaking. The air smelled of cinnamon and hazelnut. It was comforting. The fireplace was lit and warm. Yasha sat on the couch nearby, keeping watch and making sure Caleb was ok. Lucien played with Caleb's hair, musing. Lucien had a thought: a blue comb or pin would look dazzling on him.

Caleb still held the bead in his hands. He was clutching the bead so hard, his knuckles were white.

Lucien felt something to his side and liked up, instinctively leaning over Caleb to protect him.

"You look tired." Yasha's voice was soft. "You aren't taking care of yourself."

"There are more important things at the moment. I'm no longer…unbound by my responsibility." Lucien relaxed and looked up. "That freedom was your friend, so…"

"So you don't think you can be that person again." Yasha took a step towards Lucien. "We could promise you things like before but-"

"Empty promises. I thought about using that little bead." Lucien ran his thumb against Caleb's cheek. "But I still have this….everything. It would just be an extra piece that I can't worry about."

"Are you scared?" Yasha asked.

Lucien laughed. "Fear was something that left me years ago."

"Do you trust your teachers?"

"I trust my family."

Caleb stirred in his sleep. Lucien looked at Caleb's face. He was relaxed. Lucien started to purr softly, just to soothe him.

"Did you want us here? When you realized?" Yasha leaned towards him.

"I don't know. The only reason you are here is that your employer was hoping I would go through you all to get to her."

"And she was right. At the time." Lucien looked at the glowing bead. "Now… I find myself being pulled to all of you. If things were different, I would have left everything and ran with you."

"You still can."

"And live like Fjord? He got attacked just for being on a boat. I can't just look over my shoulder for however long I live." Lucien ran his fingers through his hair. "I will do this. I have to."

"No, you don't." Yasha shook her head.

"Whatever your plan is, I don't want to know. I just want this done." Lucien smiled. "I earned my place as the nonagon. I earned this power. I suffered through every lesson to get here."

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

Caleb woke up pressed into Lucien's chest. Caleb could feel a thick scar under his shirt. His hands were still clean, holding the bead. Looking around. It was just the two of them. He jumped a bit. The memory of the night before clashing with-

"You're ok. I didn't hurt you." Lucien pulled away.

Caleb looked at him. "Why did you stay with me? Cree-"

"Cree went behind my back. I wanted my new travel companions safe." Lucien cupped Caleb's cheek.

"But you aren't Mollymauk. You have no loyalty to me." Caleb tucked the pearl into a hidden chest pocket.

"I have loyalties to you, with the fact that you are traveling with me and that you want to travel with me." Lucien pulled away. "We should be heading to Aeor soon."

"Lucien… I heard you with Yasha last night. If we could see to it that responsibility was taken care of, would you be interested in traveling with us?"

"What would you be planning if I said yes." Lucien raised an eyebrow.

"You would just have to trust me." Caleb wrapped his arms around himself. His eyes were bright, full of ideas, and plans. It made Lucien's mood light up.

Lucien chuckled and patted Caleb on the chest. "I trust that your plan won't be boring." He stepped out of Caleb's room.

Caleb just smiled. "Life with us never is."

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

Lucien hummed an old show tune, waiting by the exit, with the other Tombtakers. His tail was moving throughout the air in a slow, easy-going way. He had his back to the wall, eyes closed. The other group was talking about something quite intently. Lucien wanted to know what they were talking about, but he wasn't a part of the group anymore.

Eventually, the group walked out to the main room, one by one.

"Are you ready to go to get this started?" Lucien asked.

Caleb looked Lucien in the eyes. "We would rather not do this but we understand what must be done." 

"Wonderful." Lucien smiled. Caleb clenched his jaw. 

Jester frowned, whispering a prayer that sounded familiar. Lucien picked some words in infernal, but it wasn't his business. The group was overall serious. Air seemed to freeze around them despite the tower being warm. Lucien grabbed Caleb's arm and pulled him towards the door. 

"We don't have a moment to lose." Lucien hummed. Caleb adjusted his straps and went outside. 

Outside was cold. Lucien shivered and felt anxiety fall into his stomach. It wouldn't leave him. He wanted to turn around and go someplace warmer. The tower was extremely tempting until Caleb called it back. Lucien was facing his destiny. He was…

He was scared. It was cold and he had no idea what he was doing. All of his lessons from the deities that taught him from birth was coming to a close. There was one more lesson. One more trial. His magic rang out and his nerves were on fire. He was tempted to take his heavy coat off, but it was still cold, so that was a bad idea. Caleb watched him with empty eyes.

The chamber that he was needed in was hollow. There were icicles and stones from the ceiling. Everyone's breath was visible. Cold pressed down on Lucien. He was getting squeezed. Yasha stood by the entrance, Beau with her. They gripped their weapons, ready for a fight. The tombtakers stood towards the back, giving their Nonagon space. Lucien's tail was swinging back and forth, nearly missing Caleb's hand. Caleb's hair was easily tied back, chunks of coming to the front of his face. Ice crystals were forming in the corner of his eyes, before vanishing.

Whispers of the wills of his teachers filled Lucien's ears. He took a deep breath, followed by another one. 

"Place the crystals. Opposite ends of the room. We should start now." Lucien dropped his coat to lessen the restrictions of his spell. He was wearing a white silk vest, unbuttoned all the way down to his belly button, and tucked into high waisted pants. Caleb took a sharp breath. Lucien almost smiled. His hair was untied, dipping loosely down to his shoulder blades. Caleb just grabbed a strap at his waist, his knuckles turning white. Caleb shouldn't be there, but Lucien's tail found its way around Caleb's wrist. Caduceus stood by the Tombtakers. Jester had something shiny in her hands, and she stood by Fjord, her tail wrapping around his leg and tears in her eyes. Lucien hummed and began his spell. Caleb's pulse quickened. 

One of his eyes flashed. Then another, then the rest. Lucien was glowing bright red. Even Mollymauk's tattoos seemed to shimmer. 

Caleb pulled a small dragger out of his waist scabbard. 

Lucien was pulled inward. A caring but monotone voice spoke to him. 

Lucien. Of all the lessons, this might be the one that stuck the hardest. The other Nonagons never let love be their power. You have loyalties. Your final lesson, the source of all of your power: 

The chamber grew hot with the near-black ooze of old blood seeping through the walls. There were screams of anguish and blissful laughter. Lucien made a noise that was a mixture of both. His eyes turned jet black, the color leaking into the veins around the eyes. The scar on his chest opened a bit. Lucien expected an attack from his teachers but they hesitated. 

"Sacrifice…" Lucien whispered. The words echoed between the Tombtakers. 

He turned to look at Caleb. Caleb had tears in his eyes. His hands were clasped around a dagger, shaking. 

"Look at you, Mr. Caleb… moving on from failing to break into a hospital." Lucien chuckled. Caleb let out a choked sob. The blade sunk into his heart. Right on target. Lucien pulled Caleb into an embrace, pulling the blade deeper. "It's ok. You always knew the way to my heart. It will get better." Lucien whispered. His tail squeezing Caleb's hand before going slack. One eye went out. Then another, then the rest. The tombtakers watched as the ooze burned and the oppressive aura faded. 

Caleb sank to his knees, pulling Lucien closer to him, keeping him warm. Jester ran up, summoning the diamond. The Tombtakers took a step forward, but Caleb stabbed the wand into the ground. And Caduceus cast something, making them all freeze. Caleb summoned the tower around them. Jester ran to the door and took a step forward. 

Caleb was just, cradling Lucien. Caleb pulled out a bead. It was no longer glowing. 

"Is that-" Jester asked. 

Caleb nodded. "He remembered." 

"We can bring him back in one piece." Jester nodded. 

Caleb nodded and Yasha knelt next to him. Caleb stepped away. "I'm...I have to leave."

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

Lucien opened his eyes. Yasha had his head in her lap. "...Yasha, you look radiant as ever." 

"You remember us. But who are you?" Yasha brushed the hair out of Lucien's face. 

"I- you saved me. I am your friend and ally." Lucien sat up, looking around. "Where's Caleb." 

"He's… not ok." Jester wiped the tears from her eyes. "He had to-" 

"I was going to die anyway, but because you came along, I succeeded. I'm free to be Mollymauk again." Lucien pulled off his shirt. And brushed off the dried blood. "I'm gonna check on him."

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

Caleb laid on his couch, a familiar tapestry wrapped around him. He stared at his fireplace in thought. 

"I should thank you. Because of what you did, I could be brought back." Lucien's smooth voice filled the room. Caleb didn't react. Lucien took a step closer. "Is it ok if I sleep here tonight?" 

"Do you still sleep naked?" Caleb sat up straight, still clinging to the tapestry. 

"Only if you want me to." Lucien smiled and placed a kiss on Caleb's forehead. "But there's time for that later. Sleep now." 

Caleb slept clinging to Lucien, his head on the other's chest. Lucien slept in Caleb's robe with his tail wrapped around Caleb's foot.

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

@saveyurisnecktie these are the main scenes I can remember but there may be more lol

Beizi Hill:

The boy acknowledged the order and reached out again. But the darkness made him clumsy, and with Xie Lian's long locks tied cleanly behind his back, his first contact wasn't with the man's hair. Instead, his fingers met the skin of Xie Lian's chest -- skin that was soft and supple with a light mist of sweat. Xie Lian was already in torment from that touch when the boy accidentally brushed something sensitive. It was like a bolt of lightning jolted through his chest. Pleasure spread throughout his whole body, forcing a soft moan from him.

From the extra with the statues:

"Hmm?" Hua Cheng replied lazily as he settled his arm over Xie Lian's chest. Once something particular was in his clutches, his fingers began to twiddle and toy with it. "What about it?"

From the amnesia extra:

San Lang noticed his stare. "You like this?" Raising his long, slender, fair fingers, he gently caught the coral pearl and gave it a squeeze. As Xie Lian watched him, for some reason he felt a sudden pinch on his chest -- as if he'd also just been squeezed...somewhere. He jerked backward, a large movement that attracted the attention of several nearby patrons. San Lang nonchalantly looked up and asked, sounding shocked, "Daozhang, what's the matter?" He extended a hand as though to offer assistance. But of course Xie Lian didn't take it, and he quickly sat back down properly. "No-- it's nothing. That bead..." "Oh." The smile playing on San Lang's lips was undiminished. "This bead?" He started toying with the brilliant coral pearl with increased fervor and continued with a smile. "This was a gift from my beloved spouse. What do you think of it, Daozhang?" "...Uh--" Xie Lian was gagged into momentary silence. "It's...very nice, very nice." He had no idea what he was saying, none at all. The hands he'd settled into his lap were clenched into fists, and he felt like he was sitting on needles. This stranger in red was clearly just playing with that pretty, delicate bead -- it was a simple act. And yet Xie Lian could sense an undercurrent of lasciviousness. It was like the jewel he held between his fingers and rubbed so slowly, so gently, wasn't a red pearl at all but some sensitive part of his body. Xie Lian felt his face grow inexplicably hot, and his breathing turned harsh. He was in a miserable state.

See what I mean? 😅😅

For being a book without any explicit sex scenes TGCF sure does want us to know how sensitive Xie Lian's nipples are, huh?

[kat-hawke]

Descried

(Following [Found])

Sprawled across the surface of the desk as the echoes of the wall clock ticked away with every passing second. The bottle of whiskey emptied long ago, knocked to its side by the outstretched arm, the accompanying glass still ensnared within Kat's fingers as she lay face down upon books of dark knowledge. Exhaustion winning the battle, she fell asleep in the middle of her studies.

The pinch of shadow-laced pain startled Kat into waking, knocking the bottle to the floor in the process. Her left hand locked up with shadowy wisps as Seraanna's voice penetrated the blissful silence.

"He… is found."

"Where?" The Director responded without hesitation, the mental clutch of the void-tainted pearl within the mind strong enough to choke the light from the Cathedral.

"...beyond Lakeshire, within the ruined keep." Seraanna's tone was less - distinct - than it been in their days-earlier contact.

"Do not allow the wards to deceive you," the shadow-laced thoughts continued, "they exist only to dissuade and are weak before the determined." 

The elf paused, and Kat took the opportunity to remove the hair from her eyes and close the various books on her desk. A pocket mirror used to check her complexion, sneering at the void-tainted left eye.

"Another has found him and was slain by his hand." Seraa continues. "Your Grimm knows he has been seen, but I feel it is other than righteous... force that he suspects."

Within her fingers, the mirror snapped shut and tossed into an upper drawer.

"He has never taken an apprentice or pupils throughout the years. Minions and lackeys that worship him as a cult, sure, but..." Kat's thought trailed off, mulling over the new information.

"Elaborate," her tone sounded more of an instruction than an inquiry to do so.

"I offer my aid, but I am not yours to command," Seraa gently reminded with a faintly amused tone.

"The other presented himself as more - an equal. Seeking an ally? Advantage? He laughed as Uvexius took his life, the soul abdicating as if - expected. My own Sight was then noted, but I have evaded greater eyes." 

"Grimm may think he has been seen; but neither I nor the other could be mistaken for harbingers of the Alliance."

"Interesting..." Kat overlooks the gentle reminder and focuses on the details of interest.

"Doubtful Grimm would see any as an equal, nor would he wish to change deities- assuming he has one. This renovation has lasted years, and not even the Cult of the Damned are seen near him."

She stood from the desk and was pacing from wall to wall now. The thumb was circling the side of her forefinger in the air before her chest as her eyes shifted over the floorboards.

"Then your efforts are made simpler. No other minds of note, nor acolytes or worshippers. Only the dull thoughts of the risen dead, and Grimm within his lair littered with word and formulae and parts for his crafting." 

As their exchange lengthened, Kat's senses began to shift, picking up subtle details of Seraanna's environment as she spoke. Her pacing paused to run one hand over the back of the other arm as if she could feel the armchair where the elf was nested. This new development sparked concern and discomfort, shifting her focus to curtailing the blooming connection, nearly missing the rest of Seraa's offered insight.

"Yet if it is that he feels threat, either of his slain visitor or of my own Sight, then how might he act? Is he one to bide his time, or to act all the sooner and more fiercely?" The priestess' mind seemed to ask the question of herself as much as Kat. "A conundrum for the Director's discernment. Mmm, Kat?"

The direct use of her name came like a snap of fingers to the face, and attention shifted back to the telepathic conversation.

"He has always been...unpredictable in such regards. Ranging from leveling entire homes to going aground for months. I'm willing to wager on him remaining on his current path. All things considered."

"You have your quarry then. The aid which you asked, granted. And I? I am here, in distant retreat." 

The sense of the study flourished again briefly, obviously at the forefront of Seraanna's thoughts. 

"I will require rest before I make my return, Kat. Unless it is that passage awaits me in nearby port? The village below has offered adequate welcome, though I fear I am an uncommon visitor. But this? This room is comfort enough. I will rest here."

Kat's jaw clenched at the mention of the village, teeth grinding in anger as the elf admitted to wandering beyond the walls of the study. An unpredicted complication, one she assumed would evolve into a problem as the isolated hamlet did not know the Ren'dorei.

"It's a week at sea," she answered, "more if the weather fights. You will find no passage in the port."

The study's ambient sense receded in a calm quiet, replaced by the sensation of vast waters, still and dark, between them.

"Did you believe I would merely fade into some convenient shadow when your task was complete?" came the soft question. "Three full nights have I extended my Sight at your asking. Broken only by rest upon a couch in a room without doors, and a single meal purchased with my own coin from the village below." 

The waters of Seraana's mind remained still and dark. "Sanctuary was asked, not exile. And I am no other's tool to be carelessly discarded once my usefulness is past." 

"Do not begrudge mere rest, Kat."

"Oh, there very well is a door," Kat sneered in a raw form of sarcasm.

"Rest is not what vexes me, Seraanna, nor did I believe you do without. You wanted sanctuary, and it was granted. Venturing into the village was not part of the agreement. You are no exile; this is not Silvermoon. If additional stipulations were required, you needed only to ask. I am not at fault for what you did or did not negotiate."

"Neither, dear Kat, was such forbidden. Do not fault me," Seraa echoed, "for stipulations, you failed to place."

In the physical realm, Kat scoffed and rolled her eyes in frustration. To be challenged in such a way was uncommon as she became familiar with many folding beneath her ire, intimidated into submission.

With a deep breath, the frustration subsided, and a faint smile touched the Director's lips. Her eyes focused on a tiny hourglass at the corner of the desk, where dark matter swirled within the lower chamber.

"Smarter than you look," Kat conceded, "something I am not accustomed to these days."

"I find that I am often estimated poorly. The elf," an echo of distaste from Seraa in the term, "with her whispered words and placid demeanor. Certainly she is some wilting flower, in need of another's strong arm and sharp blade." Amusement rippled across the calm. 

"It is not without use." 

"Are we agreed, then?" Seraanna circled back.

"Agreed?" Kat repeated. "I never contested your desire to remain and rest, only disapproved of the journey to the village below." 

"Unless you mean the implication that men think women to be delicate beings in need of saving when we manage fine without them? In which case, yes, we are agreed."

"And of my own case, no few women," Seraa casually amended. "Though the pattern does tend as you describe it." 

"Then tell me where I might find a warm meal, and I shall avoid your further disapproval. And that somewhere you possess wine, and not only this wretched whiskey."

"Seeks wine but calls the whiskey wretched?" Kat mocked with humor. "Deplorable, to seek smashed and rotted grapes...but as you wish. The villagers have already been made aware of your presence, and if you care that much for Gilnean cuisine, then help yourself. There is also the manor in which you are currently within. The choice of food will be much the same as the tavern but better in quality."

"The door that opens to nothing, Kat?" Seraanna questioned. "I might open a rift from the study to the ground seen below, and knock at the manor door. But I am uncertain if any would answer, no matter give welcome to one such as I knocking unexpected."

Reaching out to pluck the hourglass as the elf spoke, Kat turned the instrument over in her fingers, watching as the dark energy within rushed through the bottleneck into the empty bottom half. Remaining silent and focused as Seraanna resumed the conversation without pause.

"And be assured. I did not speak of from where I came, nor did I enter the village from the direction of the manor. Although the matron at the inn," Seraa remarked with another faded ripple of amusement, "proclaimed me the most interesting thing she had seen in three moons."

Silence fell across the connection now, and Kat waited, a single finger tapping on the desktop as she stared at the hourglass. Nearly a minute passed before the shadows within the glass vessel dissipated, and the sensation of fright pulled on a distant thread within her soul.

The corner of painted lips lifted in a smirk as the Ren'dorei found what she requested.

"Try not to scare the child. She is not fortified as you and I. Her mind is...delicate."

The hourglass spun over again yet remained empty. As if she waited for it to fill on its own accord.

"I am no stranger... to delicate things," Seraa murmured across the dark waters of their connection.

Kat pursed her lips with a quick arch in her brow before severing the tether between them. The arrangement was now becoming a calculated gamble with unpredictable outcomes, a risk she found herself willing to take to foster trust.

( @longveil​​ )

[chasing-classics]

Welcome to the Slaughterhouse (2/3) Miguel x Reader x Angel

Warnings: violence, mentions of abuse and non-consensual sex

Pairing(s): Angel Reyes x Reader, Miguel Galindo x Reader

A/N: I don’t plan on this becoming a series, more like a three-part mini story. I received a few messages asking if there would be a second part to ‘Welcome to the Slaughterhouse’ and instantly the idea of where I wanted the story to go and how it would end started formulating in my head. There will be one more installment of this mini-series and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Your past with Miguel is explained in further detail along with how you reunited with Angel. Later, the dinner table becomes the lion’s den as certain truths are brought to light.

PART 1 , PART 3

Can you turn the page into something new The fantasies of burdened beasts But kings and queens won't even dream of peace

You had known fear throughout your entire life. The fear of whether it would be a ‘’good day’’ in the sense that your mother would be passed out on the couch from how much liquor was in her system or if it would be a ‘’bad day’’ and she’d throw the glass at your head while screaming incoherently. Most of the time it was the latter. You had known fear for Angel when was mourning the loss of his mother and Ezekiel was locked up and that fear increased little by little for every beer he drank to cope with his own pain. The fear that he’d end up like your mother, or worse; that you’d lose him to the in an accident due to drinking. When he joined the club, fear lingered at the possibilities of him getting hurt or getting locked up like his brother. Fear was present when you two slowly began drifting away from each other, life taking the both of you down different paths. And fear was most definitely present throughout your entire marriage to Miguel.

When you and Miguel had first started dating, he kept his family business very much hidden from you, only talking about his father and mother and the brother he never had a chance to meet. It wasn’t until after you walked down the aisle and he put that extravagant block of a diamond ring on your finger that he revealed the dark truths about the cartel. It was absolutely a power play, and Miguel craved power. He knew you had no family, no one to really turn to when things would go bad in the marriage. And, like how it was when your mother was alive, most of the days were bad.

You loved Miguel in the beginning. You craved stability and here was this beautiful, charming man ready to provide that and more. You fell for him, going into the relationship with all of these hopes and dreams for the future. Once upon a time he truly loved you too. You were beautiful and pure and so intelligent. You were damaged in similar ways he was given your family history, and he craved you all the more for it. But somewhere along the line that love transformed and manifested into something ugly; possession. He craved control. Control over his money, over the cartel, the MC, and control over you. After the first time he put his hands on you, he had burst into tears and cradled you like you were the most fragile thing in the universe. He swore it he would never do it again, and he seemed so sincere and you loved him so much you believed him. You didn’t want to end up like your parents, you wanted a happy home with a loving husbands and a couple of kids running around. So, you stayed.

The second time it happened you dashed to your room and began packing your bags. You remember your body shaking in absolute anger. You loved Miguel, but you would never tolerate him laying hands on you. ‘It’s over Miguel,’ you seethed, throwing your wedding ring across the bedroom floor. You remembered stumbling onto the tiled floor, clutching your cheek and in pure shock that he had actually punched you. He bent down to your level, scoffing at your words and completely filled with this rage you did not believe possible for a human being to possess. ‘Where are you going to go? You have nowhere, nothing, no one waiting for you outside this house. I own you, querida, and if you want to challenge that notion I’ll put a bullet in your skull to get the point across,’ you vividly recall him telling you as he held your jaw in his iron grip. At that point it was no longer empty threats or hurtful words being thrown at you; that was a promise. That was the first night he forced himself on you and you were never more grateful that Nestor took pity on you and drove you to get a plan b pill and renew your birth control the next morning. When you emerged from the clinic you were filled with the sudden instinct to turn to your left. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was pure coincidence, but as you waited for Nestor to pull the car around you froze when your e/c eyes locked with familiar brown ones.

The sound of Angel saying your name after years of no contact instantly filled you with millions of memories that had been suppressed and buried under the nightmare you lived in with Miguel. Nostalgia fluttered through your entire being like a swarm of butterflies. You could still remember how it felt embracing him on the sidewalk, the smell of cigarettes and his cologne comforting you. Coco and Gilly having the decency to give you both the privacy you clearly needed. Angel took one look at you and knew life had not been kind. Under your pearl necklace, huge wedding ring and designer dress Angel knew you weren’t ok. He knew you were living in constant fear based off the dark circle under your eyes and the fact that you were wearing a coat over your dress despite the blazing Santo Padre sun in the middle of summer. He knew someone was doing horrible things to you, he just didn’t know it was Miguel-fucking-Galindo who now had the Mayans under his control as well.

From that day forward, every chance you got you took it to meet with Angel in secret. At first it had been purely innocent, just two former lovers meeting up and catching up. Life had not been kind to you, but you were relieved that Angel’s had somewhat approved. You learned that EZ was going to be released soon, you were slowly introduced to Gilly and Coco when Angel knew he could trust them. You had learned that he had a fling with Adelita, the woman who was hellbent on bringing Miguel down. The look of jealousy on your face validated what Angel had secretly been hoping for since the moment you two reunited; you still loved him. Neither of you expected to wind up in bed, Angel holding you to his chest as his release flowed out of you. Neither of you expected to fall back into love after fate had brought you back together. Neither of you knew this was going to be the night you’d die.

Everything happened so fast. One minute you were sitting at the dinner table, gaping in and out like a fish out of water at the double realization that not only did your husband know you were seeing Angel, but the two were related by blood. Nestor handed Miguel a manila folder, to which Miguel threw in yours’ and Angel’s direction. You briefly glanced at the spilled documents, noticing the highlighted portions. A 99% match that the Reyes brothers and Miguel were half-siblings. Photos of you and Angel in intimate embraces. You felt Angel freeze next to you and saw out of the corner of your eye that EZ gripping his steak knife. Bishop opened his mouth to speak, and suddenly the rabid wolf awoken in your husband. Miguel leapt over the table, pressing your face against the dinner table, gun pressed against your temple.

Angel snarled and stood instantly, Nestor appearing behind him and holding his gun to the back of Angel’s head. You heard the Mayans shouting profanities and Bishop trying to diffuse the situation.

‘’Let’s just calm the fuck down-,’’ Bish tried, sweat forming on his forehead due to the tension in the room.

‘’Calm down? This disgusting slut, MY WIFE, has been spreading her legs for this lowlife vermin scum,’’ you flinched as the cool barrel of the gun dug into your skin, crying out when Miguel yanked you up by your neck, holding you against his chest as you claws at his hand in a futile attempt to gain some air.

Your eyes fell upon Angel, tears blurring your vision as his jaw was clenched, struggling to control his temper as he glared daggers at your husband. He was shaking in rage and you never thought you’d see Angel so angry.

‘’I wonder, mi amor, have you fucked every man here? Hm? Are you wet at the thought of them running a train on you?’’ Miguel hissed in your ear, the hand that was wrapped around your neck violently cupped your sex through your dress, a sob escaping your lips.

‘’Hey, hey there’s no need for this. We can talk. Just put the gun down,’’ Bishop struggled with his words, trying to maintain some sort of control so that yours’ and Angel’s brains didn’t end up spread along the table. EZ’s breathing was labored, the knife still in his hand as he mentally weighed his options. Coco’s hawkish eyes were looking at Nestor’s gun.

‘’Talk? Oh no, we’re past talking,’’ Miguel laughed humorlessly, cocking the pistol.

The gun pressed against your head was removed as Miguel stretched his arm out to aim at Angel.

‘’I’m going to make you watch me kill him and when I’m done dealing with you, you’ll be begging me for death,’’ Miguel whispered. He then turned his attention to Angel.

‘’Any words, little brother?’’

‘’I love you,’’ Angel declared. You nodded your head as your heart was pounding through your chest. ‘’I love you too.’’

 BOOM!

 You screamed as blood splattered across your face, the thud of the body crashing into the table, taking the silverware and tablecloth along with it. You jumped at the noise it had made. You shakily turned around, standing on wobbly legs as you stared at the body of your husband. Instantly, you knew the lifeless look in his eyes would never be erased from your memory for as long as you lived. You turned your attention behind you, panting from the excruciating fear.

 ‘’Took you long enough,’’ you sighed, running a trembling hand down your face.

 ‘’My apologies, we needed to wait for the right moment,’’ the figure sighed, emerging from one of the columns in your dining room, her footsteps echoing throughout the grand dining room.

Adelita’s eyes surveyed the scene as a couple of members of Los Olvidados entered the room, guns in hand and ready for anything.

 You then both turned to Nestor, who withdrew his gun, eyes not leaving Miguel’s lifeless body as he struggled to process his emotions. He nodded his head, finally turning to you.

‘’We’re even.’’

You nodded your head in agreement.

‘’What the FUCK just happened?!’’ you sighed as EZ’s shouts echoed throughout the otherwise silent mansion.

 And someday he might lose his crown In time these chains that hold me down would set me free

[zhonglishrine]

God is Good and never Evil

Pairing: Reader x Fyodor Dostoevsky  Word Counts: 5k  Note: There’s a lot of heavy context in this with religion and too much unnecessarily  philosophy talk of Good and Evil. Originally from my fanfic that I have unpublished and now were revised as stand alone one-shot instead. Credits to my friends Negin, Mel and @soukokuwu​ for helping me proofread this one and everyone else who helped me with the definition of Good and Evil!

He always thought that he was complicated and no one could understand him. It might be difficult, yes, but not impossible, if you could catch up to the level of his intelligence. But that might also prove to be challenging, as no one actually knows what goes in that genius head but Fyodor himself. He appeared hard to predict and read, and trying to figure him out will only wear you out in futile attempts as he is always three steps ahead of everything, and that’s how he believed himself to be: superior and above everyone else.

Where was he?

Just as you were running out of places to look, you figured out where he might be. If he wasn’t in his private library reading his massive collection of books, then he would be inside his music room, spending time alone with his mind while playing his dear cello. He always spends his time thinking about various things; about the world he wants to cleanse and simple things that he came across in his martyr. You know your dear Fedya, he is an excessively meticulous man- perfection is what he always strives for and no mistakes are permitted. Sometimes when in doubt he would go back just to make sure everything went according to plan. Despite his overbearing confidence, he bites his thumb until it bleeds, and the gnawing exhaustion shown on his face when he is deprived of sleep after staying awake for several days straight, lets you know how fragile he still is. 

After all, no matter how grandiose his claims are to you and how ridiculous they might sound, he is still a mortal being. No God would bleed and no God would need rest like he does, because isn’t God supposed to be all perfect? He still has his limits, though you always want to remind him not to push his frail body too much. How little he would bite off his loaf of bread, simply adequate to satiate his hunger and no more, his body emaciated day by day with the little care he put. However, Fyodor doesn't like it when he is reminded of those petty things, and so most of the time he prefers to be left alone. No words are spoken on the topic, but you know; he doesn’t need to explain every single basic detail for you to know. He knows what he is doing and needs no mothering from you or anyone else. He can actually be a bit childish and immature sometimes, and that's a trait he didn’t even realize he had; flaws that he didn’t want to admit but you noticed.

He is still a young man, too young to shoulder all the rest of the world’s sin, but he took the matter into his own hands and let it be soaked and tainted in blood of his sacrifices and fallen victims within his act of mercy. 

Entering his room, a tray in your hands with a glass and ferrous sulfate tablets for him to take, you carefully tread your steps forward, not making any audible noise to disturb his moment of quietude. 

The tranquil and calm tune overflows like an external heartbeat with each rhythm, and the volume crescendo in sweet vibrations octave to your hearing ears. His nimble and deft movements on the instrument play ever so gracefully, creating the heavenly sounds that soothe your quivering heart. 

There are no words present, but every dance of his slender fingers on each string manifest their own poetry, and it guides you to an ode to his own universe. He changes his pace and tone, sometimes quick and sometimes it becoming slow, his eyes shut closed as his delicate hand moves the bow, scraping the hair against the string as he angles it differently. His raven tresses draped around his pale complexion follow his movements as he tilts his head with the tempo, his legs spread and toes curling the more he gets into it. He was in his own world and he is sending you an auditory message through your mind, telling you the unspoken journey he has gone through in his pilgrimage, inviting you to join him sail over the oceans of tunes that filled the grandeur ambiance in rapt silence, like he was the captain of his ship and you were his crew.

When it is faint and low – he is feeling sorrow and sadness.

When it is heavy and strong – he is feeling regret and remorse. 

When it is high-pitched and piercing – he is feeling angry and furious.

When it is gentle and soft – he is feeling bliss and a sense of gratefulness.

There are so many emotions he conveys through the cello that rests against his frame on his left shoulder, as if he was lamenting alone from the exuberant song that he orchestrates. Akin to how waves would crash through the shore and saturate every breach lying within the grains of sand, it rushes to fill your hollow soul. This tide continues to flourish, seeping into your veins and healing you like a divine medicine with the superfluous melody as you continue to watch and listen in great trance, almost as though you were spellbound by it. There's just something about how Fyodor can make it sing and scream so beautifully it’s so painful to hear.

Just what is this...?

Why...why have you started to cry...?

Your hand clutches at your chest, clenching down. Why does it hammer so painfully inside your ribcage? It was as if the music was the exact voice that you have long since lost. Your throat burns in quietness and your vision becomes blurry with a dot of crystal pearl, until it drops and becomes a small rivulet staining your cheek. In the equilibrium of each note he plays, it tells a different story. A story that you felt as if you were a part of it. From the beginning of birth, soft and calm, it portrays the innocence of a newborn baby that you are. Then, it starts to pace up slightly, the progress of your life. As you grow, you face struggle and hardship in life, and it starts to go faster. A lot of details then take place, you experience a variety of emotions like a crashing wave, you make a decision and you sin through your voyage. And at the end, it becomes slow again, life becomes slower and the flame that ignites you starts to dim until it eventually extinguishes as you take your last breath.

Just like the music that grows ever so faint, it eventually fades by the end of the bow that caresses against the string before it departs.

Fyodor opens his eyelids, revealing a pool of his violet orbs with a crescent shaped illumination within, soon after a stillness encompassing the air with serenity. He flutters his lashes, his gaze landing on you as you still stand with a tray in your hand before him. Your glossy eyes sparkle like rubies before the dull brightness of the candlelight, and you simply keep on staring at him with never-ending tears. At this, Fyodor curves the corner of his lips to form a thin smile, then speaking to break the silence, "Tell me... what do you think of Good and Evil?"

Fumbling with your thoughts, you thrive to answer the sudden inquiry with your muddled mind. Fyodor plays another classical piece of music to fill the gap in the meanwhile. Perhaps it was from Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev, Rachmaninoff or from someone else entirely. You weren’t sure which one, since he knew many different famous composers, but that is not important to guess right now. 

"Good is..." You begin, ransacking your brain to formulate your thought and remember what the definition of the concept is. There are many standards for good and evil around the world as noted by philosophers throughout history, and it differs with each religion that exists, but for the basic definition of it, then they are almost about the same. It is akin to two notes in the same symphony. Each thing in nature changes according to the opposites; like hard ice melts into water which is then soft, the combination resulting in a harmonious whole. Just like how it is in music, harmony results from the combination of low and high notes, while in our universe harmony flows from the combination of the opposites that are good and evil. 

"Having the moral and compassion to do the right thing. And evil is the opposite, it is wicked and in all immoral sense.” 

Fyodor raises his brow slightly, hearing rather a short reply from you. "But if I do evil deeds for the greater goods of mankind, what does that make me? Do you think evil is not necessary after all?" He counters your statement, and you know exactly what he means by it, as he planned to wipe away all ability users from this world. Regardless of races, genders, and ages. There could be an innocent child that never did any bad deed, there could be an old man waiting for his last breath, there could be a woman who never knows they have the ability. Regardless of the sacrifices he shall make; he will still make his goal come true without any sparing mercy and treat them all equally. Like plucking the weeds before they grow wild in his garden or trim the one that has wilt.  

“I am not sure about that. But isn't evil supposed to only bring harm?”

Fyodor subtly chuckled, and you were unsure whether he agreed or not.

“Then I will have to ask you something. Do you like scorpions and snakes?”

Again, when he is in the mood to indulge himself with these sorts of discussions and questions, he always asks the strangest thing and you always have to dissect the meaning behind it, whether he was thinking about it or it is just something random that crossed his mind. 

“Well, I don’t really dislike them. But they are poisonous and dangerous if not handled carefully.”

“True, that is the most logical thing to think. However, that wasn’t it at all.” 

“May I know what you mean by that?” 

Pressing the topic further, he scrapes his bow in a deep thought, a few seconds elapsed in his silence.

“Scorpions and serpents are poisonous indeed. But are they really good or evil, for they are existing beings? Yes, a scorpion is evil in relation to man; as is a serpent; but in relation to themselves they are not evil, for their poison is their weapon, and by their sting they defend themselves."

Fyodor remembers that he has read the quote somewhere when he did his research before. He had a deep fascination to learn through different religions there in this world. What makes it interesting for him is how every single religion has its own God and belief but none of them can prove their God exists. At the very least for him, that’s the conclusion he came to. That is why at one point, he thought that if there is no God then he would become one himself. His God complex didn’t just develop in one night, it took him many, many days and nights searching for his answer and he found none after seeing the world at its demise and the despair it has.

Interesting thing about what he just said is that, Good and Evil is the embodiment of how his ability is. Still, it was a mystery to you, but you have seen how it works when Fyodor touches someone and they drop dead and fall to his feet, just by the tip of his fingers. Crime and Punishment that is neither good or evil. In the eyes of someone he might have seen as someone dangerous with that ability, a demon clocked in angel disguise, but neither can they judge which one is his true nature.

And if all people aren’t good or evil and they're just people that sometimes do cruel things because they have to, you wonder what that makes him if that was the case.

The evil one?

A demon?

Or... a Savior?

"So your intentions...define itself with what good and evil is as long as you know."

He hums, "Care to elaborate it?"

"I... l think it depends on our belief, the interpretation of our choice. Good and Evil is a paradoxical concept that is inherent in human nature, but man has to be rational with them. People are inherently “evil” while society's perspective of good comes from sustained effort. It is a very humane construct because it has to do with morals, and pretty much because no other animal has this compass. There are several concepts of good and evil, first is the collective good or evil, in which society dictates what is what. This however, differs for each individual, depending on their own moral compasses so they may agree or disagree with society. It helps maintain societal structure, but at the same time, good and evil can be viewed as pretty nonexistent simply because it is a social construct.” 

He listens to your explanation as his hand never stops from playing the instrument. Again, you continue.

“But such trivial concepts are just definitions pun on abstract concepts. There is no line between good and evil. It's only the perspective that defines how something is seen, close to how war is portrayed by the winner in a way and by the loser in another way. That's why in some cases, murder can be good. Because in the eyes of a murderer, it's always good. Even the people that do charity sometimes do it to feel good themselves and beliefs say that itself is a sin therefore a bad thing. Since everything came and was given birth by God itself. He is the one that creates everything, all things that are good. But good things alone can be evil if one indulges too much in it and evil things can be good as long as we stay away from it... but purely based on intention is not all right either, for mere intention cannot make a bad act good. But a bad act performed in good faith can be excused but it cannot be classified as a good act either."

Based on your answer, he took his time to assess and ask you the next inquiry that piqued his interest.

"So, you do believe in God's existence too?"

"I..." You ponder for a moment before answering, your tongue somehow feels somewhat dry with the said inquiry. "I am not sure... there can be one, and there can be none. It depends on the reality we see, and the faith we held or the religion we have. I'm sorry if my answer is vague..."

"Hmm. It's fine, I don't blame you. I understand." He assures you and arches his head upward, exposing the bulb of his Adam's apple that was visible on his exposed neck. In this moment, he relished the time when someone was engaging in his long spiel.

"The good want power, but to weep barren tears. The powerful goodness want: worse need for them. The wise want love; and those who love want wisdom."

Fyodor says in soft oration, quoting a line from Percy Bysshe Shelley. "In the Garden of Eden, God creates an apple and forbids Adam and Eve to eat it. He is who all-knowing, know that one of them would eat it, but yet he still created man in immature form, created man that will end up resorting to eating it, created the talking snakes knowing it would coerce man into eating it, even already predicting it and going as far as to plan on what state would come after they did. Now which decision was good and evil? Was it a good thing to eat the apple if a man knows that was good for them? Or was it evil to go against the God that created them because they were tempted by the very snake He created?" 

Although it seems as if he is asking you, the question was more so directed to himself, so you do not speak to answer him. He continues again with a solemn voice, Fyodor shifting his head again and now staring at the floor, "Sadly, since the beginning, humans are already reigned by sinful nature. They know the consequences of their actions, yet they still can not resist and repel the radiance from the fruit itself; to taste the knowledge of Good and Evil. They then bring chaos to this world, staining the land with corruption from their deadly vices and tyranny. You have seen how foolish humans can be, haven't you? The futile war that you fought, the countless meaningless bloodshed that you witnessed, all because the stupidity that was bred from humanity itself as they keep repeating the same history."

Casting your gaze down into your reflection on the surface of water, there are faint memories flashing by from when you were a soldier. Though not very vivid, the vague image is still there, flickering at the back of your mind in a blaze; the image of mangled bodies, blown apart children, blood running into gutters, rain of missiles dropping like flies on the ground and explosions everywhere blowing up like fireworks. You were there in the front lines, fighting for your own people, for their peace and nation, ready to sacrifice your life. But that was all a fleeting memory of your past; you do not need it anymore. Albeit, there is this simmering feeling that stirs within the deepest recess of your heart, a raging feeling of being betrayed and being cast aside and locked down for years. All because of fear. A fear that came from the fruit of knowledge itself that you were a dangerous ability user. With the said knowledge also comes power, with power comes corruption, and with corruption comes evil; where power becomes absolute, so does evil. War is like a disease festered inside man's heart, and it spreads like a plague and wildfire. Yet sometimes, it’s a necessary one, when the conflict could not be resolved in a peaceful way and war was unavoidable. Then, was it a good thing if it involves mass sacrifice? In a world where the hierarchy of power and different classes of society exist, could man settle the conflict without getting into argument, without evil influence their judgment and without discrimination between their different views and opinions?

Even up until today, there's no ending for human suffering and pain. Left and right you can hear the screaming silent voice cry out for Justice, with a voice pregnant with tears, broken hearts and despair, and the blood of innocents that was spilled when the world's leader moved their piece on the world map like playing a game of simple chess against their opponent. From the first World's War, the Holocaust, systemic genocide, gulags, famine, earthquakes, disease and so forth. All were rooted from the cause of Evil. And Evil first entered the world because Adam and Eve ate the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, which God had forbidden them.

"But... if God did not create the apple in the first place... then would Good and Evil cease to exist?" 

Fyodor scrapes one long tune, he closed one eye from your question with another thin smile.

"A predictable nuance that one would think of if we were to avoid all the root of origin. If we put the blame to God itself by essentially placing all blame on Him, then it will prevent the problem of humanity blaming each other. But the problem of evil is the problem of accounting for evil in a world created by an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good God. It seems that if the creator has these attributes, there would be no evil in the world. But there is evil in the world. Thus, there is reason to believe that an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good creator does not exist." He says with a scoffing voice, "It is therefore natural to think of God's commandment forbidding Man to eat of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge as ironic since God Himself had planted this very same tree in the garden. If God hadn't placed the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil in the Garden of Eden in the first place, Adam and Eve wouldn't have sinned and the world's problems would be moot." He changes his bow pace to create a different tune, "If God exists then, he is testing the virtue and the faith of man by placing the tree in the garden. Then, a man by their own free will may choose their decision to choose between Good and Evil. Back to my question earlier, man could choose to obey the commandment and choose to do Good, or man could choose to disobey the commandment and choose to do Evil. However, if both choices ceased from existence, then humans will truly be free from their sins. But that would mean that people would have no choice to do evil, since evil is completely being erased. And without the choice of doing good, people will be happy not because they are happy, but because there is no longer the choice to be sad. They will only experience positive emotions, because the concept of suffering and pain has been removed and taken away from them. But would that really be a bad thing if one wishes to continue feeling happy without all the negative emotions? And would that be a bad thing if one will not make any evil deeds anymore? The line between good and wrong is distinctly thin after all as you said, as human is stupid to differentiate between what is Good and Evil for them." Fyodor gives the answer then counter it back with his question.

"However, wouldn't that be a blissful world if there was no Good and Evil? Ivan is the perfect example for that concept of being robbed from his negative emotion to be in a state of eternal bliss without any suffering had the apple never been created in the first place, and he would do all Evil simply because he does not see it as Evil since Evil does no longer exist in him." And he, as though acting as God, praised his own creation in delight and fervor that it reflects in his eyes. "You said it yourself that the Good and Evil interpretation is based on what we believe. That isn't exactly wrong now, is it?"

You remain silent to think about it for a moment. Then, with or without it, the world is still fated to be doomed. Evil is still created through man's misuse of his own power to act. He gets into evil of his own. Man misuses his discretion to act under pressure of his desires and satisfaction of his sentiments. That is why man is a sinful creature. With their own carnal desire, they will end up destroying each other even knowing the outcome and aware that they were being controlled by their own avarice. Simply, a foolish human being as he always stated. 

Fyodor finishes playing the cello and the music fades from your ears. You instantly feel like you miss hearing it once he has done. 

"Ah, pardon me for making you listen to my long ramble, you can put that on the table, I will get to it later." He gestured to the tray you held since the start that has few tablets and glass of translucent water. However, you knew better than anyone else that he might get engrossed into his work later on and forgot to take it so you have to be stricter. 

"It's fine... but Ivan would be mad at me if he knows you haven't taken your pills..." You reply back with an even tone, but your hand was quivering from the intense feeling whirling like a torrent inside your heart from listening to his soliloquy, unsure how to feel. You love listening to his voice, and you were trying to digest every word he says. Each time you listen to his long speeches, it's like he is telling you a bedtime story, but with heavy context related to his ideologies. It always left you to think with your own reasoning. Fyodor took notice of that, and he rested the cello on its stand. He gestures to you to come closer to him and your feet move on their own as if he has a magnetic force to command you so. 

"Make me," He said with a small smirk adorned his visage.

You creased your eyebrow in confusion at first, "Sorry...?"

"Make me so I can take those pills." He repeated again, now with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"How do I make you?" Your question was anything but innocent. However, for him, that just gives him a chance to tease. A moment he would rarely display.

"Here, I'll make it easy for you." He took the pill from your hand. "Now..." And he guides it to put it on his tongue as he parts his mouth. "Make me swallow it."

Faint blush erupted across your cheeks, and your usual straight expression slightly flustered. Seeing you that way, he merely chuckled. "Hmm? What are you waiting for? Didn't you say Ivan would be mad if I didn't take my pills yet?"

"Ah, yes... that is true." Gulping and with your shaky hand, you place the tray at the nearest desk, taking the glass to sip an amount of water hesitantly. Your eyes dart everywhere as you don’t know how to proceed and avoid eye contact with him as you close your eyes, leaning closer to his face inch by each with your heart beating loudly. You can smell his lavender scent; you didn't know whether it was from his shampoo or his perfume, but nevertheless it invites and guides  you. You then open your eyes again, seeing he was looking at you with such an amused expression when you felt his warm lips collide as he drank the water from your mouth, your whole face beginning to heat up again and how you wish you could disintegrate by embarrassment right now. Fyodor tucks the strands of your hair behind, and the lump from his throat swallowed both the pill and the water you transferred to him directly. His tongue sweeps across your moisten lips and he tugges it teasingly in between, nibbling it softly. You relish it as much as you can, desperately craving the affection he gives you for some more. 

He broke the kiss, gazing at your flushed face as he lifts your chin to prevent you from looking elsewhere with a small chuckle, "Now, that isn't so hard, isn't it?" 

How you hate it that he could pull this confidently without getting flustered as you are. All the more reason when he is enjoying it. But you can never resist him, can you? Not after he has taken so much space inside your heart.

"F... Fyodor..." Your lips tremble calling after his name, there was desperation laced in your voice, a need in your eyes. He looks into you with an adoring unadulterated gaze. 

"Hmm?"

"May I...?"

"What? Oh? You mean that..." Understanding what you want from him, Fyodor spread his arms widely. "Alright, you may as you wish." 

Enveloped by his frame dearly with his consent, your hands hug his warm body and you rest your head against his solid chest, hearing the rhythmic beat of his heart. Although he plays such beautiful music with his cello, there's no music that ever sounds better than this. You feel his warmth spread on you, and when he returns and gives you a hug back, placing his hand at the back of your spine and he begins to stroke it, your heart swells with happiness. His touch is like a remedy to your starved soul, and it wasn't frequent that you get the chance to be with him this way since he was rarely present at the base. 

Fyodor is indeed a strange man, and his mind is always complicated to understand. You never know or could tell what he was thinking. He is no God like Prometheus, not son of Lapetus and Themis. Not the champion of mankind known for his wily intelligence, who stole fire from Zeus and the gods and gave it to mortals. He is just he, a human named Fyodor Dostoevsky. A man who is acting in the place of God to carry the Good and Evil in this world. To bring salvation and destruction that humanity needs. He took the burden and huge responsibility on his own. That is something that you do admire him greatly. Albeit feeling a bit sad that you could do nothing but can only watch his back.

When he talks, you love to listen and take every detail in. You take a breath in and take in his scent again, calming you, feeling safe to be with him despite the reputation he has. Fyodor is not a man that is a fan of great affection; skin contact with another human being is a foreign concept to him. His ability could be activated at any moment if he so desires it, and then you would die in his arm in serenity. He would cleanse you off from your sin without any pain that torments you further. But he let you savor and indulge the solace he could provide you for now, as he did not dislike the company you have provided him as well. Strange as it may sound to him, he now secretly craves for the attention you give to him, as if he is the only center in your life and you are the only one for him, his dorogaya. How you wish you could stay like this with him forever.

However, you know, forever is a grand wish to have, as there is never a good thing that will last forever as it is with evil in this world.  Until the end, he will stand alone, just like God he aspired to be.

[sickficenthusiast]

Bloody Aspirations (an angstfic).

I used an angsty prompt from here on tumblr and I wrote this all in like a few hours and I can barely hold my eyes open anymore so I hope y’all enjoy whatever this is lmao. TW for descriptions of death (don’t worry it’s not permanent or anything).

Her hand is the only thing her senses become aware of as they fuzzily come back into focus, and then it's the lances of pain flaring out from and around the multiple bullet wounds bubbling a bloom of crushed poppies down past her ribs, collecting in an already spacious pool beneath her. Before she could regain herself too deeply, Pearl clenched her hand within Helen's, as if afraid if she didn't she would get away from her somehow, but that wasn't to be realised.

  The sky cast a perpetual veil of rain down toward the quiet earth, creating the only tangible sound Pearl was capable of hearing, as if the world had fallen asleep to its ethereal calmitive song, as she presumably had as well. All from the back of her throat to the base of her lips felt warm, frothing, metallic sludge rising up from her collapsing lungs and running down her chin and deeply bruised cheek to the grass under her head. Her insides felt as if they had been trimmed in velvet, also as if they had come to an absolute standstill. She couldn't get a full breath in without stabbing pain driving itself through her chest, and a broken, gurgling whine of delirious anxiety frothed about in the base of her throat, the ensuing tears indistinguishable from the pouring rain above them both.

  "He..." her voice viscerally sputtered around the blood filling her failing airways, warbling adrenaline causing a louder whimper of anguish-riddled agony to rip free of her, blowing from her mouth in a way which couldn't be reversed. She shallowly coughed out productive rasps which brought further outpourings of frothing blood to dribble free of her mouth, the thundering world before her pulsing in and out of her already blurring focus, cracks running through it showing her that her glasses had been broken. Something even thicker worked its way up her throat, streaming from it without pause in trails down both cheeks. She gasped in panicky bursts of bloody air, even this panic felt beneath a layer of indistinction, softened somehow by this sense of peace she had never felt mimicked in all her years. But it was a terrible peace, one that just proved to stress her further. She was dying. She was dying and she wasn't ready. Fuck, she wasn't ready, she couldn't go yet, not here, not lying beneath this frigid sheet of showering rain, not where no one knew where they were. Their friends knew nothing of what had happened, how would they be notified of this, what about their goddaughter, how would any of them fare? And removed from them, she didn't know how to die. She had no idea and yet her body somehow knew, this was pre-programmed in her after all. Pearl knew she could feel her soulmate's hand clutched in her own, but she'd made not a sound since she had regained herself, was she really even there at all? Her dying mind could just be giving her some form of comfort to see herself out within, what if she really was alone, dying all alone on the side of the road, unable to see Helen one last time, to tell her how much she was loved and how much she was sorry for leaving her? She couldn't do this alone, God she couldn't do it at all!

  "Pearl..."

That simple word had Pearl dissolving into further exhausted hysterics, the choked off voice of her love right beside her. She wasn't alone, Helen was here with her. Oh God, had that meant that she was dying too? Now if she thought intently, she vaguely remembered the slurs being thrown at the both of them, before her body became emblazoned in bullets. The shots had continued even after they weren't meeting her any longer, and could hear Helen's awful screams after she herself had hit the ground, a similar thudding sounding beside her not long afterwards. They had both been shot, she remembered now, the way their hands had been holding each other too telling of their sinful fucking god-hating love for those homophobic bastards to handle. They were both going to die for their love, and she supposed if there was to be a way to go, why not make it for something you stand for. Perhaps this was just to hold your lover's hand while walking, but even this inconsequential sentiment was too much for those fuckers to handle, and certainly was bigger than it initially appeared.  

Pearl gently smacked her damp lips as her streaming eyes drooped, dizzy radio-fuzz billowing throughout her head. Every time she went to speak her mouth opened uselessly, a gurgling noise of intent leaving it in place of words. It took a great many tries before she could clear the mass of blood in her throat enough to rasp out a simple,

"Helen?" She fought to regain her failing breath as her hand was suddenly clenched even harder, although this wasn't a great increase, Helen coughing an eerily similar cough before responding in a expired voice much like her own,

"Don't be scared, love."

Her voice reeked of softened grief, and Pearl recognised the tone all too well. This was the voice Helen used to comfort a dying patient, to ease them onto the other side as best she could. Now it was being used on her. Fuck, this couldn't be happening, God or whoever was up there please save them both. But a heavenly idea of salvation is to be forever within its company, so to ask of Them to save them, that would more than likely come in the form of bringing them both to the other side. But this wasn't right, they were still so relatively young, their entire lives laid before them, together through every single moment. But it would appear that they had prematurely reached the end of their time, and to look at the possibility of anything After, truth would be kept upon their word: they truly would be together forever, neither having to be without the other for a moment.

"'m scared, Helen, wha's happ'nin'?" Pearl heard Helen give a hybrid between a chuckle and a sob, before answering her with tears clearly lurking beneath the folds,

"Leaving."

"'m no' read'y."

"Don't think anyone ever is."

With every moment passing and every word Helen said, the panic was loosening in Pearl's chest, giving way somewhat for the peace to envelope her more completely, encase her within a warming gel-like substance as the world lost its solidity little by little. All that seemed to exist in this space with her was her wife, her hand and her voice, and that suited her just fine. Speaking becoming harder with every passing second, she mumbled wetly,

"Are we dying?" Helen gave a slight sob in response, before responding restrainedly,

"Baby girl, I love you."

  Pearl rolled her head somewhat to the side to vaguely see Helen sprawled on her side beside her, blood soaking through the entirety of the shirt covering her torso, the same crimson froth gathering at her mouth as Pearl saw how intensely, yet silently, she had been crying. There was a horrific distance behind her reddened eyes, seemingly trying everything within her power to stay awake. Despite how this broke Pearl's heart, she could do nothing to show this.

"I can't go first, just see her out. She doesn't deserve to die alone."

That had been Helen to speak, but her mouth didn't physically open, and Pearl moaned a tiny sound of confusion at this organic buffering, slurring out the last words she was to ever utter,

"I...love...you Helen, it's...been an honour, I...'m leaving..." She would try to talk over and over after this, but the process had begun. She was dying, and speech came first. A tremulous inhale sounded beside her, a gasping sob permeating it, before Helen choked out,

"'been the best honour, babe, biggest I can imagine. You're such a good girl, I'm right here baby and I'm not leaving, you...you go right ahead, Pearl, I'll, I'll g-g-guide you away."

Pearl's eyes fell closed at her words, her mouth gently hanging open as the peace choked her soul, the world losing all permanance save for her hand. She was floating now, suspended in a warm space, quiet except for the broken beauty of her wife's voice. Even the festering, blazing pain of her wounds faded to nothing, as if vanished entirely. As Helen spoke to her, her mind reeled with memories rich with the essence of them, and their friends. Their found family. Every instance of their happiness played out before her eyes anew, seemingly playing on mute as Helen was the only sound existing in her world,

"you're doing beautifully my love, I'm not going anywhere, you can let go for me, I'll meet you there. Wilson is waiting for us both, and, and Perry, our parents, everyone's waiting. You can let go, I've got you. Let go, love. Pearl, let go."

Pearl was then suddenly yanked from her body in one fatal swoop, floating above the scene with that same peace still accompanying her, still working within the process, but Helen's tone had changed. Now she was violently sobbing, audibly panicking as grief and impending death swept over side-by-side.

  "Oh God, whyyyyy! Pearl no, I can't do this alone I can't, please come back I can't do this oh God please bring her back I need her please I-" the only reason she found any pause in her tirade was the choking of blood that flooded hard against her windpipe, spluttering a bubbly spattering of blood up over her chin, trailing down it to her weakly heaving chest. Pearl couldn't move now at all, and as soon as she was able, Helen continued,

"Please I'm scared, please, Pearl, bringg, bring, ba'..." Her words weakened with every syllable. She aspirated blood for the final time, going completely limp.

It was after witnessing that heartbreaking scene that she could do nothing to assist in, Pearl awoke, finding herself rocketing upwards into a sitting position, a screaming sob se had been too far gone to expell leaving her mouth as Helen's dying words replayed over and over in her ears. She thrashed wildly in an almost demented manner, continuing to scream out her lungs until the adrenaline set nausea into motion, an she gulped back the sickly urges and lowered her face down into her hands, breaking into tears as Helen screamed and hit the ground beside her.

  "Pearl? Oh God, sweetheart, you're alright, you're okay I promise." That was Helen. She was okay. Pearl felt her strong, yet gentle arms wrap around her rocking form, and immediately turned her face into her chest and clung to her, feeling her and smelling her and hearing her. They were both okay, neither of them had been shot, and they weren't dying. She felt so incredibly ill, she stifled the urge to hiccup and tried to get as close to her wife as humanly possible, as the alternative was too frightful to comprehend in her mind.

  "Helen, oh fucking God you're okay!" she exclaimed through her violent tears, "it was awful, just awful babe, we were both shot and, and we died but you let me die first so I wouldn't be alone but, but, but, but, but, but you were alone and I heard everything and you were panicking and, and I couldn't help, and, oh fuck you can't ever die Helen I can't handle it! I watched it just now, I can't ever again I love you, I love you I love you I love you, baby I love you!"

"Easy lovie, easy," Helen cut in with her emotions clearly audible, "shhhh sh sh sh. You're right, I'm okay. Nothing is happening right now, we're in bed all safe and all sound, I promise you. I promise you with all I am that we're safe." As Helen spoke she cupped the back of Pearl's head and calmingly rubbed her other hand up and down the curve of her back, and little by little, just like in the dream, Pearl's panic lessened, until all it was was her exhausted crying, as she rested against Helen's chest and leaned into her every touch. Things really were okay, she wasn't lying. No one would hurt them. Helen was telling the truth. Pearl kissed her neck with the touch of barely a stolen breath, as she listened to Helen's continued words,

"Baby may I?" Her hand was suddenly felt against her forehead, leaning into this movement as Helen remarked sympathetically,

"oh, my poor love! You're melting, that feels like one nasty fever you have! Probably caused your nightmare and everything."

Now that she mentioned it, Pearl was feeling as if that was the case, a heavy pounding present in her head and an unsteady trembling within her aching bones. She had no idea where she would have picked this up from, but it was regardless undeniable, and she would take this reality over the alternative she had experienced that night a million times over. She barely felt the kiss breathed against her forehead, before she became aware of Helen pulling the blankets back up over her, easing her down against the mattress.

"That yucky dream is over, baby girl, now just let me take care of you, I'll try and make you feel better. I'll be right back, I'm just gonna grab some stuff that should help, you'll be okay for a minute?" Pearl nodded as her eyelids drooped, feeling herself dropping off quite quick now that the initial panic had dissipated, and as Helen got up to retrieve what she needed, she smiled, grateful to be on this side of things now. They really were okay, and as soon as she shaken whatever had caused this whole mess, she would do well to ensure Helen knew just how much she appreciated her, and how much she was grateful that, even in dreams, Helen would insist she go before herself, even in dreams ensuring Pearl was okay over everything else. If she could be a quarter of that kind of woman, Pearl would be happy.

[theredknightstruggler]

A Bitter Sunrise

    The sun sat just under the horizon on this early morning in Grizzly Hills, the sound of birds starting to fill the air as the temperature began to rise. In a pocket of the Hills there laid a cabin of honest condition; hand-chopped, sanded, weathered. A deep rumbling interrupts the peace of the waking birds that chirped in the treetops above the cabin’s roof and a pitch black rift tears open forcefully about 10 feet from the front door. It grew wider in moments and out came the Red Knight atop his Deathcharger. It’s hooves clopped against the green grass and the tear that brought the pair through began to close quietly. Shards of ice hung down from the Knight’s armor as well as large clumps of snow frozen to his form, but he seemed unphased. He dismounted the steed with haste and paced towards the front door of the cabin with urgency.

    Morddred grabs the handle of the door, but hesitates as his attention is brought to the side of the cabin. He noticed two fresh graves that weren’t there when he had left a few days prior. “Hm.” He rumbled out before pushing open the door to an empty cabin. “Agatha?” He called out. There was no response save for the creaking of the log cabin’s uneven floorboards. The Knight’s boots thudded against the floor towards the open bedroom and his gaze was brought down to a piece of parchment and used quill that sat in the center of Agatha’s desk. As he finished reading the last sentence in the letter he was interrupted by the sound of his Deathcharger screeching. The hair on the back of Mord’s neck stood up and he maneuvered out of the cabin in a few long strides until he stopped at the bottom step on the porch where his eyes narrowed on a semi-circle of hooded figures.

    “Your essence was all over this place when I came by earlier...Axe-Wielder.” A long fanged said as it grinned towards the Red Knight. The acolytes flanking the larger figure in the center all had their eyes on Morddred and the rune-axe that was strapped to his backside with a hunger beyond starvation exhuming from their glares. The clopping of the Deathcharger’s hooves could be heard off in the distance as it retreated. “Where is she?...” Mord barked out in an aggravated tone. His rise in emotion began to melt off the snow and ice that clung to his armor and with that the runes decorating the trim of saronite plate flickered to a bright red from their dull slumber. “You know where she’s going. You sensed it.” The center figure replied. He continued, “Your existence is spared this one time axe-wielder, but do not get content with my...generosity.” A full row of pearl white serrated teeth smiled widely in the darkness of his hood. “You’ll be a much more substantial meal in the coming weeks...and now that I know your face; You. Cannot. Hide.” His voice danced on those last three words while he opened up his arms from their crossed position. The acolytes to each side of him began to drift away into ash that scattered to the wind, but the center figure remained. 

   “This place, this...continent. Its great, you know. Everywhere you go there is something in common.” The hooded figure knelt down and pressed his clawed hand to the grass, “There is death. Everywhere. A land of graveyards...” His voice trailed off and the amused grin fading from his hidden face. The glow of his eyes slumped in an annoyed manner, “You’re no fun. You don’t even whimper or plead.” The Red Knights hands were clenched tightly as his flaring crimson orbs glared intensely at the hooded figure. There was no need for words or facial expressions to feel what emotions the Knight was projecting. “And your presence is exhausting.” The figure hissed. “A parting gift.” The creature’s hand held out an open palm as it stood up, causing a sudden explosion of earth and rock to open up between the two. A grotesque hand of meat, bone, and rotten flesh gripped the edge of the chasm that had formed and pulled its lumbering body up and out.  The hooded figure began to crumble away into ash before the dust of the eruption settled, leaving the Red Knight to deal with the amalgamation before him. 

   The stench of several dozen corpses filled the air with a thick miasma the longer the creature existed, but to the Knight it was just another reason to eliminate it. A familiar face stuck out from the side of what was presumably the head of the creature and it resembled that off a boy he saw often that would come for herbs from Agatha. Half of the child’s face was nothing but mangled flesh and the other half was in mid-rot. Across the chest of the animated corpse-pile stuck out the deceased mother of the boy with her pregnant stomach bloated beyond normalcy. Half of her face was melted into the congealed flesh while her other half gazed blankly with the frozen fear she felt upon death. “Abomination.” The Knight growled out and was met with an ear-piercing roar coming from the open maw of the melted flesh, spewing bits of guts and bile that sizzled upon contact with the saronite plate. “You will not stand between her and I.” The knight calmly reached up to the chains that kept his pauldron’s maws closed and unlatched each one. A low hiss escaped the slightly open maws as if they were exhaling. Saronite began to stretch and morph beyond its normal appearance, many smooth edges becoming jagged along with his helmet completely closing.  Morddred reached for the hilt of Dreyrugr to free the rune-axe from its sheathed prison and hauled the hunk of metal against his shoulder with a firm, lowered stance. 

    A gurgling belch  erupts from the amalgamation as it swings a long limb of connected tissue towards the Red Knight in the form of a blade made from bone. The Knight braced himself by widening his stance, but rather than retaliate with a swing from his axe, he would hurl Dreyrugr in one fluid motion towards the creature’s midsection. The runeaxe hummed through the air until it reached its target and was embedded within the melted tissue at the center of the creature’s form. The force of the blow caused an explosion of flesh out the backside and created a gaping hole on the animated tissue’s flank. Morddred felt the bladed limb coming towards him slam heavily into his right pauldron, making him stagger a step backwards. He reaches up and grabs the flesh of the limb trying to cut through his armor and grips it tight enough to spatter blood out across the once green grass below. A deep rumbling growls in his throat as all of his effort is put into pushing against the downward strike. Bone and tissue begins to rip and tear as the Knight’s struggle overwhelms the amalgamations raw strength. Its limb snaps backwards and hangs limp for a moment before its retracted back into its melted torso. Morddred made a lumbering dash towards Dreyrugr that was continuously feeding on the life essence powering the creature. His boot slams into the melted face of one of the victims in the pile and he grabs the runeaxe’s hilt firmly with his right hand. The Knight’s left hand plunges into the tissue to get a firm grip before the creature could try to pull him off, giving him time to rip Dreyrugr away from its greedy feeding. Morddred looked upward at the melted collection of heads that glared down at him from up top, narrowing his crimson eyes with focus.

    He knew what he had to do. The Red Knight swung the free’d runeaxe vertically to embed it a few more feet above to begin his ascent. His boots and free hand helped him along the way to hold him in place with each swing of his runeaxe. The creature had recovered a portion of its broken limb and immediately grabbed at Mord’s right boot. He held firm to Dreyrugr’s hilt to fight against the limb that tried to pull him to his demise. A firm thump mashes against the fleshy limb as his he slams his left boot into the tissue over and over again. Each strike sends ripples throughout the slightly gelatinous skin of the creature, weakening its grip on the Knight’s boot until he was able  to finally pull himself further up and out of the retreating limb’s grasp. He was nearing the top after three more vertical strikes with the final strike splitting into the familar boy’s face. Morddred pulled himself to stand atop what he determined was the creature’s neck, his boots firmly planted into the flesh that made up the neck and backside he stood on. He rips Dreyrugr from the boy’s face and rears it over his head with both hands to slam it downward into the hunk of neck-flesh at his feet. The Knight was only able to get one more swing into the gored flesh before a series of tendrils formed together and slammed into Mord’s grip on his runeaxe, causing him to lose his grip and send the weapon rolling down the creature’s backside. With a forceful inhale through his nostrils he brings a closed fist above his head and slams down into the partially torn outer layer he had struck at before. Right, left, right, left; each closed fist took its turn pummeling down into the softening flesh. Each strike sent more ripples throughout the gurgling creature’s form from the force coming from those fists.        

     After a good dozen hits the Knight could see the glow he was looking for that shined from deep within the layers of flesh. A black stone glowed brightly in Mord’s face as he peered inward, his head turning to the left and right to release a few cracks. The runes across his armor started to fade in brightness, starting at his boots and stopping at his right fist that was now raised. All the energy once pulsating over his whole form was now concentrated into this last strike. He growled with effort and slammed downward. *THUMP* The trees and grass were coated in a splattering of seperated flesh and the Knight was sent flying to the ground a good twenty feet below, but in his hand was clutched the stone powering the amalgamation of flesh. Without the stone to keep the flesh bound together the creature would begin to fall apart into a liquefied pool of sludge. Morddred slammed into the uneven ground with enough force to embed himself a good foot or two below the surface. The glow from his eyes vanished as the impact knocked him out for a time. 

    When he came to his armor had shifted back to its smoother appearance and his hand remained clutched around the black stone he ripped free. Sunlight hugged the faceplate of his helmet, his eyes flickering back open to see the sunrise off in the distance as parts of him remained embedded in the dirt. It took a few turns and shifting, but Morddred freed himself from the ground and stood to his feet. He inhales slowly through his nose and exhaled out through his mouth, releasing his thoughts from the battle that took place. “I’m coming, Agatha.” He said to himself with his gaze focused on the bright sunrise. The Red Knight would stuff the black stone into a satchel on his belt for safekeeping and his gaze would turn to Dreyrugr that writhed on the ground in hunger for all the life essence splattered everywhere. Mord reached out with an open palm and called back his runeaxe despite its hunger. It hummed through the air, being caught in his right hand and was slid back into its sheath beneath the Knight’s cloak. He turned towards the direction of Icecrown where he could clearly see the opening in the sky, his steady stride pacing him as he collected his thoughts. There was no rest for him until imbalance was corrected. There was no rest for him until she was safe.  

    The Red Knight made no stops and  only the sunlight accompanied him against his backside. It was going to be a long journey, one he knew he would have to struggle through, but to him this is how he’s survived. There is no growth without challenge and no balance without a keeper.

            @agathascytheel​

[weeping-petals]

Players of the Game

A New Game - Part 3

Word Count - 4,382

After a long night of searching, the Crystal Gems finally locate Steven. Alarmed by the child’s state, Garnet rushed in to apprehend Spinel. At long last, the game will end.

The temple of Chalcedony Forest, beneath a moon splashed night. The trees underwent the process of petrification to create the towering castle-like structure, now stood frozen; purpose unfulfilled, and robbed of the timbers natural state. Somewhere during the war, construction was abandoned; despite this, the forest continued its methodical work of bending and stretching to fashion the edifice. Though it did not know what it was to become, and in that peril of existence only budded a structure devoid of cohesion.

 The Crystal Gems emerged from a portion of the thicket which was predominantly calcified trees. Towards the tower, the malformed timber formed miles of layered and splint slates, encircled like a winding maze. It was easy enough to navigate, and offered cover for their approach. They scouted the perimeter, but could not identify movement of indication of where Spinel had gotten to. If she was even here.

 “Do you see anything?” Pearl directed to Garnet. Aside from the half moon hovering in the sky, it was dark. They didn’t need their gems to define surroundings, and much of the glossy material abundant refracted illumination. They navigated the broken passages, creeping among and beneath breaches in walls and debris.

 Garnet, as she had been since they started, was silent. Something hot and irritated was brewing, an unspoken argument and plotting. She looked at Pearl briefly, before turning to resume the lead. Pearl and Amethyst exchanged a look.

 “Stay close,” Garnet reminded. “Spinel will likely already be here, which gives her the element of surprise. We’ll approach with the utmost caution.” She held out her hand before Amethyst could scamper away. “There’s no telling what she might do with Steven.”

 Pearl shivered. She took the liberty to draw one spear form her gem, and sided in close with Amethyst.

 “This place is ginormous,” Amethyst grumbled. She climbed atop a cracked wall and gave their surroundings a sharp examination. “We’re never gonna find’em unless we splint.”

 “No,” Pearl hissed. “One of us can barely handle Spinel. If we stand a chance, it will be a taunt collaboration leaving her no opportunity to recover.” Amethyst opened her mouth to retort, but Pearl anticipated her next argument. “For Steven’s sake. We can manage this.”

 “I can’t believe we’re doing this again,” Amethyst huffed. “Why couldn’t she have stayed gone?”

 “You don’t know what you’re saying,” Pearl murmured. “She should’ve—” As Amethyst said, Spinel should have been gone. At least, after all these years it was what they presumed. They felt safe in the complacency. How wrong they were. How it haunted them now.

 For several excruciating hours, they explored the exterior province of the pillar. Numerous entrances presented themselves dotting the base and low level of the tower, some fitted with incomplete ramps or disintegrating staircases. Many sustained extensive damage and folded inward, misshapen entirely. Several entries held gem sensitive lamps, which activated upon their fleeting exploration. This indicated to Pearl that nothing had passed within for a while. Likewise, all inhabitants present would be alerted to intrusion.

 Through the brief scouting, Amethyst ooed and awed at the interior architect polished by time. “Steven’s gonna love this place. Y’think?”

 Garnet didn’t reply, but continued. Amethyst and Pearl followed, forgoing commentary. At one point, Garnet thought it wise to hand the cheeseburger backpack to Pearl, for safe storage. The items inside would be useful to Steven, once they liberated him from Spinel. There was no telling what would happen, but they knew for certain an altercation with Spinel would be unavoidable. But they would take him back, it was only a matter of locating him.

 A dipping pathway wound its way into a low space beneath the pillar, among splint petri-wood. When they breached the yawning entrance – many times their size – Garnet put her arms out.

 Throughout the wall and ceiling, roots knotted and twisted. The illuminars was active within the chamber, glittering across the mineral laced plant life. Aside from the lamps, it was not immediately apparent if something still lurked within. The chamber was expansive, walls and ceiling eroded.

 Pearl gripped the spear sloped beside her leg. “This must be where she came through. Amethyst,” she grated, struggling to keep her voice low. “Stay down.”

 Amethyst bounced between crumbling wall intermixed with the reformed tree. “We want her to show herself, don’t we—”

 Garnet lashed out her arm and snared Amethyst, she hoisted the small gem backwards. “No. We need to find Steven first. I see a passage, over there.” She indicated, and began on that direction.

 The opening lay behind a massive, and shattered crystal. Each scaled the obstacle laying directly on the slope, which would bring them to the suspended level. Lamps didn’t activate in the corridor, a benefit for them. Extending from the minor strip, they exited into another open expanse which resembled a stoney courtyard. Vague structures erupted from the floor and ceiling, calcified vine-knots hovered beneath the ceiling. Trees bent or stood choppy and gnarled, formed partially into structures like pillars or statues.

 Stealthy and silent, the trio wove through the ruble. They picked their way down a series of steps, but jarred to a halt when Garnet went tense. Pearl spied immediately what gripped her attention, and she brought a hand to her face.

 The movement was foremost noteworthy, dipping behind crushed chalcedony. Those pigtails were incriminating, and belonged to no other.

 Garnet launched from beside the others and landed heavily atop a collapsed twine of roots. It was worse than she suspected, and every fiber of her existence sparked. “Steven!”

 “Oh-ho, look who’s here.” Spinel sneered. In the gloom, her eyes and grin glittered in traditional cutouts. Sinister and spiteful. “You’ve gotten better at hide-and-seek. Too easy for you, I see.”

 Beneath her on the ground, lay Steven. He was curled up in a tight ball and trembling.

 For the first time in hours, Garnet radiated with unrefined emotion. Her fists clenched and her shoulders quivered. “I won’t let you get away with this.” She threw herself at Spinel, arms outstretched and gauntlets formed. In response, Spinel retreated within tight backward flips, entire body a slinky which slipped through narrow crevices. Garnet pursued, crushing rock and tossing obstacles. Up until a last clump of crystal revealed the illusive gem, but Spinel was coiled and waiting; she swung her body around and bowled Garnet down with an oversized fist.

 Garnet hit the floor and tumbled. She came to a halt and momentarily, checked that Steven was still moving and reassure that Spinel hadn’t followed with a counter. It took a brief glance, then she rebounded, gauntlets connecting with a slate Spinel ducked behind. Chalcedony burst into fragments and powder, but there was no sign of the lanky nuisance.

 A barrage of cackles lashed downward, while Spinel came sloping hard on her extended arms. Outstretched legs collided with Garnet, and sent her flying.

 “Pearl! Check Steven!” Garnet slammed into the underside of a suspended platform.

 Pearl didn’t need a second prompt. She was already crouched beside the boy, Amethyst on the other side. “Oh my stars! Steven!” She dismissed her spear and collected the small child in her arms, holding him close.

 “Is he all right?” Amethyst choked. Her gem alit, to give them a better view. And for comfort. “Is he… breathing?” They winced. Pearl clutched Steven tighter.

 Garnet burst from the rock, and managed to collide with Spinel. The two clashed hand-to-hand, or hand and coil; Spinel pinned one of Garnet’s arms in a tight bind, while her other hand grappled with the wrist of the taller gem. Both crashed, forming a thick plum of dust and sparkles.

 “Ugh! She needs help,” Amethyst barked. But Steven…. “Is he okay? What happened to him?”

 “I don’t know! He’s unconscious! He—” Pearl squeaked. she pressed her head to Steven chest. “H-he’s…. Y-yes. He’s doing that thing. The breathing!” She could almost poof, most of Steven was intact. “His heart is beating, but it’s so slow! If she’s done anything—” Another collision, she shrank over Steven. Garnet hurtled through a clump of stoney roots. “Don’t just sit there! Go help!”

 “Why should I?” Amethyst countered, more puzzled than annoyed. “Someone has to stay by Stevey!” She didn’t want to admit why Pearl should go.

 Reluctantly, Pearl gave Steven a hug. “Please be okay.” She set the child on Amethyst knees and stood, summoning duel spears.

 In this time, Spinel was swinging up and through the suspended chunks of rock, using the near and long range to its fullest. It had been so-so long since she was allowed to move. She was competent in repelling a rock thrown her way, or sling a chunk of chalcedony back at Garnet – whom leapt after, using the obstacles to keep sharp on Spinel’s movements. The other was fueled by rage and, and something more personal.

 But under no circumstance could she allow Garnet to get a good solid grip of her body.

 It did happen that Garnet snagged a firm hold of one leg and attempted to heave Spinel through the air, like a lasso. Spinel’s reaction to getting swept aside, was coil her remaining leg and both arms against her side before impacting a wall; cushioning her form. She hooked Garnet with the ensnared boot and recalled the leg, hauling the tall gem at herself with devastating speed. With one arm still coiled, Spinel’s fist inflated, and she reared back for a punch to shame all punches.

 If not for Pearl skipping across hovering platforms, both spears aimed. Spinel caught view of the pearl gem glinting and rebounded, before the bolts could land a hit. This meant she had to release Garnet and regroup her limbs. She hoisted into a clump of roots, tangled in the ceiling.

 “Boo-hoo!” she hailed down. “Feared the worst, didja? Felicitations! You saved your precious lil grub! You’re the heroes of today! HAH! Beating the ever-gleaming silt out of me won’t make any a one of you a better protector!” She grinned ear-to-ear (so to speak).

 Garnet recovered midfall. She landed on a detached mass of crystal, an estimated meter from Pearl racing across the structure. “Up you go.” She extended her arms, allowing the feathery Pearl to leap onto her wrist and race across her shoulders. Garnet swung back and launched Pearl with force.

 “I’m always game for a good trouncing.” Spinel harked. She twisted her body against the natty teethers and sprung, whirling like a top. She aimed directly for Pearl, and if she could blast through to smite Garnet, plus two—

 Out of nowhere, a rock smashed into the side of Spinel’s unprotected head and she plunged. Pearl was so taken she nearly missed her opening. The spear thrusted and connected, but barely.

 “WHOOOO!” Amethyst shot her arms high. “How does that taste, getting socked for a change? Chalk one up for the Army-thest! I still owe you!” She shut up when Steven groaned. “Shoot, sorry.”

 “Am’thest….”

 “Can you hear me? Don’t move,” she whispered, leaning closer. “You’re safe. I got you.”

 “Wha…?”

 How many years since she fell? A decade. A thousand. What was one thousand? She could wait an eternity, and then some. It felt like an eternity, being lost and forgotten. Discarded. Just like when she was left in the garden. The years departed, stars faded, and the world continued moving onward without her.

 Spinel fell void of control and orientation. Pearl had gotten very close. VERY-VERY CLOSE. All and undone, body a tangled mess, she couldn’t summon back her limbs, and felt disconnected from them. This left no brace for the fall, and no recollection of where solid surface would begin. She did the next best thing, looped arms and knees in bundles over her chest. If anything, she must protect her gemstone. She saw what happened to—

 It worked mostly. Spinel barely secured her torso, before she crashed into a slope and skidded. Luckily, her unrestrained spin-cycle eased out fast. No damage, she didn’t think, aside from her physical form getting shaken and her body still a knotted mess. She managed to flip herself over, and over again; she wouldn’t be surprised if she was inside out.

 A primal battle cry tore through the chamber, announcing – drat! – Garnet descending, gauntlets clasped tight into a gigantic club.

 Drat-drat-DOUBLE DRAT!

 Garnet missed by a breath, when Spinel flopped over. The Spinel was a withering mass, twisting and slithering over and around. This was it. This was the prime opportunity they had been seeking, when Spinel would be at her weakest.

 “I’ll hold her!” Pearl dashed forward, racing in from the side to recover the scant opportune moment.

 It was apparent Spinel realized what was happening, given how fast the gem scuttled behind a chunk of crystal embedded in chalcedony. Pearl landed adjacent and rushed in, a spear primed. The crystal barrier erupted, chalcedony chunks disintegrated under Garnet’s reckless pursuit. On the fringe, Pearl kept in check scouting for the bright colors of the wily gem. There came more natural barricades of stone and more chalcedony, a boot scuttling on the cusp of their peripheral. At long last, Spinel was revealed, still unraveled. Garnet chucked a sizable piece of crystal, but Spinel blocked it with one of her own – the two pieces collided midair and burst.

 From the dust hurtled Spinel, and she locked arms with Garnet, despite her limbs being a jangly mess. Something in Spinel’s expression nearly made Garnet stutter. Almost.

 “Always need to get the last word in. Doutcha?” Spinel accused.

 An opening laid out and backside exposed fully, Pearl shot in swinging one spear for the anticipated proximity of Spinel’s chest. Spinel narrowly evaded, whipped around and smashed Garnet into Pearl. The force sent Pearl pinwheeling, more unfortunately, Spinel was unable to loosen her hold off Garnet.

 “Couldn’t leave me alone!” Spinel spat. “No loose ends! No unfinished business!” She got her legs mostly recalled, and bucked Garnet in the chest. “No untidy, unorganized packages!”

 “You know perfectly well why we couldn’t let you off on your own!” Garnet thundered back. Spinel untangled her arms and abruptly kicked Garnet away. But the taller, and stronger gem, recovered instantly and barreled forward. She snared Spinel around the torso and tugged her close. “Not one of us wanted to do you this way. You deserved BETTER! But you left no alternatives!”

 “Could’ve… fooled me.” Garnet squeezed, and Spinel’s physical form shimmed under the strain. In a panic, Spinel’s limbs bent and arched in exaggerated patterns. Until at last, Spinel looped one arm around her waist, over and over.

 At first Garnet thought nothing of it, and only expected Spinel to protect her gem out of instinct. Yet, the coil tightened, and Spinel’s other arm found a solid hold, elsewhere. Pearl called a warning, but Garnet dismissed it, as Spinel’s projected light form glittered. Any moment.

 A wide grin met her, and then she knew something had gone wrong.

 Spinel wrenched free, a zipping tornado. Flung aside, Garnet careened across the wreckage strewn across the courtyard.

 During this, Pearl moved in deftly. She leapt high and fired a bolt from her spear, aiming for the unguarded top of Spinel’s head. This time, when the distinguishing bark of the bolt went off, Spinel wretched aside.

 Pearl alit on a high platform a distance above Spinel and observed, calculating the next move. Spinel was looking exhausted and perplexed by now. She no longer held homefield advantage, and the Crystal Gems would not relent until they dealt with her properly. There would be—

 “Guys! Stop!” Steven ducked and wove around the ruble rooted to the floor, and waved his arms. Amethyst was close on his heels, eyes massive and laced with panic. “Stop fighting! Wait!”

 Spinel went loose bodily, arms flopping to the ground as she threw back her head. She began laughing.

 “Steven! Find cover!” Garnet barked. She reacted and moved, rather define the most beneficial scenario. Steven was their priority, his safety above all could not be jeopardized. She sprang to him, but was immediately barred by Spinel’s stretched arms, extended like duel clothesline.

 “Don’t! Steven! You’re gonna get in their way!” Amethyst caught him in her arms and tried to haul him back. However, Steven was putting up a massive fight for his stature.

 “Spinel! Please! Stop! You promised!”

 Spinel dove off her perch, catching Pearl within midleap. She caught the staff, and heaved Pearl against her extending legs. “Nothing mentioned about not defending MYSELF!” Pearl lost her grip on the weapon, and the two dropped; Pearl stunned by the blow, while Spinel did a skillful twirl with the staff, winding up with the stolen weapon. Spinel concluded by whirling the spear toward Amethyst. And Steven.

 The barbed lashes of a whip snagged on the staff, halting its intent.

 At the last moment, Garnet skid out and caught Pearl before she hit the ground. Beside her, Spinel got her arms nestled below herself quick enough to cushion the impact; her legs swung up, spinning, and knocked Garnet aside.

 Spinel sprang out of the maneuver, somersaulting her retreat by several paces. She came to set herself upon a splint pillar, arms jagged at her sides. No opening left for an attack. She took survey of the Crystal Gems – Amethyst poised on top of Steven, holding him down with a foot, with duel whips at hand – Pearl was recovered, barely – and Garnet—

 “Give it up! We don’t want to fight you!” She was closing in, gauntlets at the ready. The gem stalked steady and rigid, up the incline primed to conclude this conflict.

 “You think you have the right, to lock me away!” Spinel screeched. “Like I’m some sort of… of… MONSTER!” She cackled. “That’s what you think of me! All along! No one ever said it, but ya’ll thought it. Didn’t you?” More laughter ensued, hard and grating. “Hilarious. I always thought you were different! I actually thought YOU saw me different. It really puts things into perspective, doughn’t?”

 “GAR-NIT!” Steven was trying to crawl out from under Amethyst’s foot. The lilac gem gave up, and had to restrain Steven with her arms and brute force. “Don’t hurt her!”

 “Are you kidding me?” Amethyst hissed. “You’re worried about that hostile hula-hoop!”

 “But she’s not a monster,” Steven whined, trying to shove Amethyst off. “You guys are just mean!” This caused Amethyst to gasp.

 “You brought this on yourself!” Garnet proclaimed, before sprinting through the last meter. She drew back a fist and took the swing. Unexpectedly, Spinel didn’t budge. Garnet hit with full force, plowing them off the pillar and through a slate of grafting tree roots with crystal brackets. The unstoppable drive met and unmovable force, and somewhere in the wreckage the dust cleared out.

 Spinel only survived her form poofing, by using her knees as a brace and coiling her arms over Garnet’s shoulders and wrists, robbing the battle laced gem of intensity. Garnet could not move.

 “I am so tired of hearing you say THAT!” Spinel snarled, baring her teeth. “Everyone can make mistakes, anyone can change. BUT NOT ME! Never! I’m not—” Her tirade cut off. And Garnet had an idea why.

 Pearl swooped in, directly above the alcove formed in the assault. Spinel looked directly into Garnet’s shades, and the reaction was instantaneous. The coils unraveled from Garnet, allowing Spinel freedom to whip around and snag Pearl by her waist. This time Pearl shot the bolt, dismissing the fact that Garnet was too close. Spinel coiled her limbs up and made to leap, but withdrew attention from Garnet for five milli-seconds too long.

 Garnet hauled Spinel back down, and the lithe gem took the bolt right in the shoulder. Still, the recoil knocked the gem from Garnet’s grip, and the unraveled gem skidded across the floor.

 A few feet from Garnet’s poise, Pearl landed and regrouped. “That wasn’t enough?” she posed, summoning a replacement staff.

 “A direct hit would be effective,” Garnet proclaimed. “This time, we won’t relent.”

 Spinel got to her feet and shook the glitter from her body. A chunk was missing from her angular shoulder. She looked from Garnet, to Pearl, and scowled. The region of the courtyard was all but flattened, utterly ruined. They wouldn’t leave. She shouldn’t be surprised. She slammed her fists against the ground:

 “I don’t want to play anymore.”

 While Garnet and Pearl rallied up for the oncoming assault, Spinel pivoted and sprang away. She was thrown near enough a back passage, which led deeper into the temple structure. They could search for her, play hide-and-seek all they liked, but she already knew the pathway out. She cast a look back over her shoulder, before straightening her shape and zipping out of view.

 “After her!” Garnet bellowed. She was about to initiate the chase, but a light grip trounced the thought. She turned to Pearl, but couldn’t meet the gems eyes.

 “I think… we’ve done enough.” Pearl’s spears were already dismissed, and after some surface examination Garnet could grasp why. Pearl was ragged, her superficial style in tatters. It wasn’t overlooked that Pearl had pushed herself to limits, and would continue to expend herself. If it meant protecting Steven. Speaking of which….

 Steven scurried to them, climbing over the demolished shards of chalcedony and stone. “Why did you hurt her? Why were you fighting!” He demanded. Promptly slipping and falling face flat before he crested the steep incline.

 “Oh cheeze whiz, be careful,” Amethyst huffed. She didn’t appear overtly concerned, and only nudged Steven with her foot while he tried to get up.

 “Why?” Pearl squawked. “WHY? Because she hurt you. Oh no!” She sprang to Steven and crouched down. “Are you all right? Any breaks? Do you have a fever? A scraped knee?”

 “No-no-no— Stop!” Steven pushed Pearl away. She relented the probing, but held his shoulders. “Nothing happened!”

 “You were dead,” Amethyst rebuked. She raised her arms and crinkled her fingers. “And she was hovering over you, like a vulture. It was seriously creepy.”

 “I wasn’t dead!” Steven insisted, stamping his foot. He looked to Garnet, silent and observing. Or eternally screaming. “I just… uh. I guess I fell asleep.” He rubbed his eye with a fist and yawned. The whole ordeal and then walking took its toll. Then, there was getting awoke suddenly in the midst of a brawl, with his favorite people fighting what he considered to be a new friend.

 “Asleep?” Pearl yelped. “How is it possible that you fell asleep. No-no, Steven. You must be mistaken, she must’ve—”

 “I fell asleep,” again he stated, but with force. “She told me to be quiet, but I was telling her about Tapioca Ninjas, then it got a lil fuzzy. Does she have a power that puts people to sleep? Or gems?”

 “Naw, that woul’da had made her real useful if she did,” Amethyst grumbled. “You might be right, though. All this walking, getting kidnapped, mugged. You had a full day on the clock. Ready for another?”

 “Uhh….” For the first time, Steven cast his eyes around, taking in the far spaced segments left intact, despite the rumble. Much of the walls and apparent sculpted fortifications crumbled, dried plants vaporized, and ash dusted the floor. “What is this place?”

 Pearl shook a bit from her accusatory stance, and alit her gem so that Steven could have a better view of the area. “The Chalcedony Temple, sculpted by the forest, with the forest.”

 “Ooh,” Steven ooed. “Yeah! We reached the temple, I remember! But she was super skittish about getting too close.” He wandered away from the others, onto more stable ground – Pearl kept close, just in case. He wasn’t really watching where he was going. “She was gonna leave me, but—” He cut off, and looked to the group.

 At last, Garnet became animate. “It’s time we return to the Crystal Temple. You’ve had an exciting day, and we don’t want to wait around for Spinel to recover. Now we know what damaged the warp pad, and what caused this temple to become active. Spinel is a problem we must work toward fixing.” She looked to Pearl, who could’ve been intermixed by disappointment and relief. “But at a later time.”

 “After all that?” Amethyst griped. “We’re gonna leave? We can’t just not fix this, and let her do whatever! This isn’t a good idea.”

 “This will have to wait,” Garnet admitted. “That’s all for now, we can discuss this later once we’re safe, and Steven is secure. We have a long walk back to the functioning warp pad.”

 Amethyst audibly groaned and departed the group. “That was the nearest wardpad. This will take forever, and it’s her fault!”

 “Wait! Amethyst! Stay with the group.” Pearl hurried after her, and immediately the two began a bicker.

 When they were out of range, Garnet spoke up. “Steven. Are you really okay?” He looked up at Garnet.

 “Um. Yes?”

 “Don’t lie. If you need anything, Pearl has your back… pack. Don’t hesitate. We’ll always be there for you.”

 “I know,” Steven uttered. “I’m telling the truth, she didn’t hurt me or anything.”

 “I do not disbelieve you. C’mon.” Garnet shook off the gauntlets and plucked up Steven. While springing down the incline and ruble, she mentioned, “We’re glad you’re okay. And, I’m sorry we were so careless.”

 “Hmm? I don’t think you were careless.” And with vigor, “You weren’t. I mean, she didn’t go easy on you.” He was quiet, until Garnet set him down. For a moment they stood, Garnet waiting on him to say something and Steven uncertain if he could ask. He looked back the way they came, and the gaping passage from the chamber. He had so many questions.

 “Will you tell me about her?”

 At first, Garnet was silent. She glanced back the way Steven did. “Let’s get out of this forest first. I think… she is done, for the time, but I don’t want to take the chances.”

  Steven nodded, mildly serious. But he would not let this go. Likewise, he had a feeling Garnet wouldn’t leave him in the dark, regarding the strange gem. This wasn’t something that could be ignored or left alone.

[triforceangel13]

The Promise Ch. 10 (A SidLink Story)

Chapter 10: Happily Never After

Accepting Sidon's proposal had seemed to have flicked a switch within his people. He was sure it was a combination of things from his time being there, the help of the zora child, and then finally the treaty, but he was glad to see the change in attitude. Many acknowledged him, calling him even “Sir Link” as the greeted him.

He had a feeling they believed he was getting married for the sake of the treaty only but he and Sidon both knew deep down what the actual truth was.

Link was giving them a chance and he could feel that he was starting to feel something even more with the more time they spent together.

There had even been a close call earlier or something rather flustering which now had a little awkwardness between them. Link had visited the king in his study once more and kissing had ensued.

But before Link had known was his body was doing, he was pushing into him, kissing him deeper, and giving in to all the desires his mind was brewing up.

If it wasn't for Sidon's shock of wanting to do something like this but in a rather more proper way Link would have been bent over the desk then and there.

Never had Link thought that such passion would spark between them but it had. It was something they both wished for which had been made very clear by their actions but there was one thing that was brought up that they had agreed upon.

Until they were wed they were not to partake in any of that. It was more appropriate for the two of them despite the burning between them would be hard to sate.

Though because of this it had made sleeping in the same room as the king a tad difficult. Once the news had been announced of their wedding the Zoras did not hesitate to move Link's things into Sidon's bed chambers but had purposely put his bed on the other side of the room to show that they wouldn't be sleeping with one another.

Sidon usually slept in the pool of water but there was a rather large bed on the other side that would clearly fit the two of them and leave plenty of room to spare.

It made temptation hard to ignore.

Sidon had left the room earlier than he had been though not without stopping and waking him with a kiss on the forehead.

His lips still lingered against his skin a while after as Link laid in his bed. He couldn't believe this had happened. Coming to the Domain he had every intention on telling him that he was not about to be his husband but now he was expected to meet with some of the Zoran elders to discuss plans for the wedding they would be having soon.

And yet throughout all of this he hadn't thought about his home back in Kakariko. He honestly felt guilty for not sending much in the ways of letters to his home and friends. It was like they just disappeared from his mind.

After the meeting he would be sure to send something out to them.

“The meeting...” Link sighed heavily. Every time he thought about the meeting with the elders he grew nervous. Sidon was going to be busy with his own work on the first meeting with the council. They scared him enough when he was with the king but now he would be by himself. He just hoped he would be able to hold his own.

The bedroom door opened causing Link to startle, pulling the blanket up to cover himself, having slept in his underwear that night. Thankfully it was only Sidon.

“It's just me,” Sidon said as he stepped into the room, a tray of food in his hands, closing the door behind him. “I thought perhaps you'd want breakfast in bed before you were to be sent to the wolves, I mean seeing the council.”

“Yes actually, thank you,” Link said, setting the blanket down and grinning as the tray was set on his lap.

“It was also my excuse to be able to try to talk to you about how to handle those men. They can be a bit hard to handle by yourself.”

Link clutched the blankets, nodding his head a little bit, nerves obviously getting the best of him despite he knew Sidon was only trying to help.

*

Link clutched the bundle of papers to his chest, his blue eyes gazing up at the doors of the meeting room. Voices were heard on the other side of the door, the room already awaiting for his arrival. Sidon had given him plenty of advice but he still had his doubts about being able to talk to them.

He just had also had to remember that they had accepted that Link had wanted to get married to the king. That had to prove for something.

“Go on. You can do it. I believe in you,” Sidon said to Link, lightly patting his behind and pushing him towards the door.

Link clutched the papers tighter, pushing into the room, glancing back at Sidon as he gave him a large grin of encouragement.

Link gave a small nod, letting the door close behind him as he stepped to the table and had all eyes on him.

“Morning gentlemen,” He addressed them, not taking the seat at the head of the table. Instead he chose to stand as he spread the papers out on the table for them to see.

Their conversation died down, quickly acknowledging Link.

“Shall we start? We have a lot to go over and a lot of other things to do,” Link said, pushing the first piece of paper to them. “This is the guest list that I have that I would request they be able to come. It's only a few but they are Hylian and would need accommodations to stay here, a few of them are elderly.”

He kept his eyes hard as he looked to them, one looking as if he was about to protest but Muzu, the leader of the council, nodded his head.

“I'm sure we can do that,” he replied to Link.

Link's shoulders relaxed. Perhaps this would be a little easier than he had first thought. He took up the next piece of paper, setting it on the table when the door to the room pushed open.

“I'm sorry to interrupt but, Link may I speak with you?” came Mipha's voice. Link paused, the confidence he felt deflating from him.

“Sure. Excuse me,” he said to the council, following after Mipha out into the hall. She let out a sigh as pressed a rolled up piece of parchment into his hand.

“This just arrived for you,” she said grimly. Link quickly took it, unrolling it slowly as he read that words that put a sinking feeling into his stomach.

There had been a large fire. A fire that had burned down his home and most of Kakriko Village. The whereabouts of his family as well as the children were unknown as of the sending of this letter. There was no indication either of whom had sent it.

“I don't understand...” Link mumbled, looking to Mipha. “Who would do such a thing? They hadn't done anything.”

Mipha let out a sigh. “I don't think it was on purpose Link. Brush fires occur in that area quite often. I'm sure they're alright.”

Link slowly shook his head. “I've been so selfish.”

“Selfish? How? For what you're doing for my people I would not call that selfish at all,” Mipha said, resting her hand on his arm. Link shook his head.

“I was supposed to protect them. That was a promise I made and I had left. I was supposed to come here and tell your brother no and instead I-”

“Fell in love,” Mipha finished for him. Link looked up at her, a light flush coming to his cheeks as she spoke the truth. He had fallen in love. He had fallen hard for the prince. He had buried feelings from when he was a boy and just being with him this past month had sparked something deep inside of him that he didn't want to leave in risk of losing these feelings. It was more than just a little crush from when he was a kid. He had relearned much of Sidon and he didn't want to let go what he had finally gotten between them.

“I have to go find them,” he said, taking a step towards the main gates. Mipha quickly grabbed hold of his arm.

“Wait,” she said to him, Link turning quickly on her with panic.

“But I-” “Wait till tomorrow morning, alright? I'll have all the preparations made for you to return home and find your family,” she said. “You should start bright and early so you have plenty of daylight to get there.”

Link hesitated but let out a defeated sigh, giving a small nod.

*

“Sidon, please, say something,” Link begged his fiance, kneeling down on the side of the bed where the king sat, a frown on his face. Link was becoming hateful of when there was a frown on his face. And he was the cause of it yet again.

He wanted to see Sidon smile, be happy and yet he was bringing him so much heartache once more. But he had to do this. He had to find his family.

The king let out a sigh, resting his hand on Link's cheek, his eyes sad causing Link's heart to clench in his chest.

“I'm just sad my pearl,” Sidon said softly, letting his hand fall as Link leaned into it. “We were just starting our lives together and you have to leave.”

“But I-”

“I know Link. They are your family. Family is important. If this was Mipha I would be doing the same thing to go looking for her,” Sidon interjected quickly. Link sat up on his knees, resting his arms on Sidon's knees as he looked up at him.

“I'm glad you understand...” he said softly.

Sidon touched his head again and sighed. “It's just that...How will I know that you'll come back? How do I know that you won't just stay out there?”

He was right. There was nothing keeping Link from staying there with his family again and just go back to the life that he'd always known. But there was one thing. There was one thing that was keeping him planted there.

And that thing, or person rather, was the Zora before him.

An idea sparked in his mind then and he pushed himself up to his feet, cupping Sidon's cheeks in his hands to have the king look to him.

“There is one thing that will make sure that I'll come back,” Link said softly, slowly climbing onto his lap with a small flush on his cheeks.

“What is that?” he asked, his hands resting on his hips.

“Marry me. Right here, right now,” Link said to him.

“Marry? But Link how-”

“You're the king. Why wouldn't you be able to marry people without a priest?”

Sidon was quiet a moment and then sighed as he leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I don't know the specifics of that but it would make me feel better.”

“And that way I have a reason to come back. My husband will be here waiting for me,” Link beamed, sitting back a bit, waiting patiently.

“Do you Link take me as your husband under the eyes of Hylia and to become the new queen of Zora's Domain?”

“I do,” Link said softly, grinning widely. “Do you King Sidon take me as your husband under the eyes of Hylia and to rule by my side?”

Sidon took hold of his hand and brushed his lips against the back of it. “I do my love. With the power within me as being the king I announce us...wed.”

Link beamed and pushed himself quickly into Sidon's arms, kissing his lips deeply. Sure this wasn't the ideal wedding he had envisioned but given the circumstances he didn't mind at all.

Sidon held him against his body, his hand sliding slowly running down his back, pausing at the waist band of his trousers.

Link slowly broke the kiss, his lips swollen again. That look was in Link's eyes again. Just kissing Sidon was becoming dangerous.

“Sidon...I am officially yours now,” Link mumbled against his lips. “Now that I am officially your husband, there is something that I wish for you to do.”

A large grin came across his face and he kissed his head again. “You do have a point my pearl. I am officially yours, your are mine.”

Link took hold of his hand and rest it against his face, blue eyes gazing up at him. “Make me fully as yours, Sidon.”

The king did not have to be told twice and the two fell down onto the bed.

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@dansiere said: “ the memories hurt the most, I know. And it will feel like you cannot breathe but... what matters is that you... -- you have to stay on top of it, Connie. ”

          Since Connie had STARTED, more or less LIVING AT the beach house, they started a TRADITION of WATCHING the CHEESIEST MOVIES Connie ( && Greg could find. ) Sometimes she’d set up VOICE CHATS so she && Steven would watch a movie / TV show together, ALONE, in her MAKESHIFT BEDROOM. Tonight it was a BLACK && WHITE MOVIE, but Connie was DAZED && UNABLE to FOCUS ON IT, Connie could NEVER seem to QUIET her MIND, ( or RELAX her body ) sometimes it would get so LOUD, even around Steven, ( SWEET, SOFT, CALM, Steven ) she was always THINKING / PLANNING / WATCHING for THREATS-  always being TWENTY STEPS AHEAD of ANYTHING / EVERYTHING && EVERYONE at all times. 

          She should be STUDYING, honestly, CAUGHT UP on her SUMMER READING &&--- thoughts cut short by a sudden COLD CHILL in the air, the room DRAINED of all COLOR / GROWING into hues of WHITE / GREY / BLACK. The taste of blood FILLED her mouth. No no no no no please- ‘ MY DARLING LITTLE STARLIGHT, ‘ She went STIFF, a TIGHTENING in her shoulders && down her spine, her CONSCIOUSNESS started FLICKERING IN && OUT, SUBMERGING her BRAIN with SINISTER FLASHBACKS / MEMORIES in a NIGHTMARISH kind of SLOW MOTION. A c h i l l TRICKLED DOWN her spine like ice water, a GHOST OF A WHISPER in her ear. ‘ YOU CAN’T HIDE FOREVER. ‘  THIN, BONY FINGERS curl around her shoulders, nails STABBING into tender flesh, breath on the back of her neck as COLD AS DEATH, himself. She’s not here she's not here she's not here ! SNAP OUT OF IT ! 

          Please… Pl- Tears well up in her eyes, BLURRING her vision with a WATERY HAZE, chest TIGHTENING with FOREBODING that SPREADS throughout her body like a FOREST FIRE. && a few, SLUGGISH SECONDS / it seems to LAST an ETERNITY, she’s PARALYZED, ROOTED to the floor. She QUICKLY excused herself, handing the bowl of POPCORN onto Peridot’s lap, standing up on legs made of RUBBER. ❝ Would you like us to pause the movie, Connie ? ❞ Pearl asked. The brunette gave a small wave of her hand. ❝ No, It’s okay. I’ve seen this a million times. ❞

‘ DID YOU HAVE FUN ? ‘ 

          The WORLD is CRUMBLING under her, bits CRACKING, PIECES BREAKING OFF, the EARTH is SWALLOWING her, PANIC / FEAR grips her, RIPPING her beating heart from her chest, blood turns to ICE WATER in her veins. Everything is BEGINNING to sound MUFFLED / DROWNED OUT, VOICES fading, shaking hands- curling fingers into TIGHT balls, digging nail into CALLOUSED PALMS. She makes it into the bathroom before her WORLD is totally SWALLOWED UP, TREMBLING fingers reach for the LIGHT SWITCH, a BURST of DIM LIGHT floods to life, STUDYING herself in the MIRROR, fingers DIGGING into the COLD PORCELAIN of the sink, NAUSEA washes over her. 

‘ THIS LITTLE GAME OF YOURS IS OVER. ‘ 

          BLINDING WHITE LIGHT, room GLOWING, LONG, JET BLACK TALONS, reaching out towards her, only to PLUCK Steven OFF THE GROUND, an ECHOING, SING-SONG VOICE. ‘ IT’S TIME TO COME OUT, PINK. ‘ The echoes of her voice FLOOD her mind, she’s back there, the COLD HANDS of her mentor WRAPPED TIGHTLY around her, fingers against her mouth, nails DIGGING, PAINFULLY into her cheeks. Making her teeth ache with the need to BITE DOWN. Watching HELPLESSLY / PITIFULLY / USELESSLY as his GEM is RIPPED / TORN OUT so easily out of his stomach, his PAINED EXPRESSION, ( a GAPING HOLE, blood spilling onto MARBLE FLOORS && coating PURE WHITE SKIN a DEEP CRIMSON. ) sweat && tears rolling down pale, hollowed cheeks, a SCREAM trapped between CLENCHED teeth. A COLD HORROR ripples through her stomach. 

          Then he’s FALLING FALLING FALLING FALLING, heart POUNDING in her ears. PINK LIGHT washing out the WHITE, ‘ ST- STEVEN ! ‘ His COLD, DYING BODY is heavy in her arms, skin GRAYING && ICE COLD against shaking hands, his BEGGING && PLEADING WHIMPERS, his TEARS STAINING her jacket. THICK, RICH, BLOOD oozing from the gaping hole where his GEM should be. She’ll never FORGET the COPPER TINGE of blood on her tongue, SICKENINGLY DRY, SWEET METALLIC TASTE / SCENT, vile pungency that SMOTHERED her SENSES && SUFFOCATES the air from her lungs. && no amount of HOW MANY TIMES she brushed her teeth / DRINKING MOUTHWASH like it was WATER, it won’t seem to LEAVE. It lingers in her nose, a lump in the back of her throat that she can NEVER swallow down. Had there really been blood ? No. No. He hadn’t bled. Had he ? 

She’s going CRAZY.

          Her eyes were WILD / UNSEEING, && she struggled to hold herself together. ‘ NOW TO DISPOSE OF- ‘ An ANIMALISTIC SCREAM / DISGUSTING, THROAT-SCRAPING SOB, curling a TREMBLING hand into a fist && SMASHING it AGAINST the BATHROOM MIRROR, again again again again-  SHATTERING her GEM, silencing her MOCKING LAUGHTER && SING-SONG VOICE once && for all; a jolt of ADRENALINE surging through her veins. It was better than any HIGH she’d ever EXPERIENCED. Blood FLOODING down her knuckles, broken glass FALLING Like STARS. She STUMBLES BACK, a HITCHED, UGLY sob escapes between CLENCHED TEETH, falling against the wall, the MIRROR was just a SLIP of the LIGHT that was all. Just her stupid MIND PLAYING TRICKS, showing her FLASHES of things she thought she had CONTROL OVER. No, that she DID have control over ! She wasn’t Steven, the gems, Lars... ANYONE. She didn’t FALL APART. The sound of fists THUNDERING DOWN against the THIN WOODEN DOOR, shaking it, ❝ What was that, Connie ? Did you hurt yourself ? ❞ 

          ❝ Unlock the door. We need to get the glass out before it can cause permanent damage. ❞ A MONOTONE VOICE ( Garnet ) spoke through the HAZE of ERRATIC of Pearl, Bismuth && Peridot. Of course, her FUTURE VISION saw a GLIMPSE of what could / would HAPPEN... Did she see she FLASHBACKS ? Shit ! Scrubbing a hand through dark curls, getting blood in her hair, biting the INSIDE of her cheek. ❝ Her hand ?! ❞ A SHRILL / PANICKED voice, shouts over all the other voices, a prickle of IRRITATION crawls under her skin... Pearl. That’s her MOTHERLY TONE, the same one she’s HEARD whenever it INVOLVES Steven. ❝ What happened to her hand ?! ❞ Before the TALLER GEM can open her mouth to REMEASURE Pearl that EVERYTHING IS OKAY. Connie braces herself against the wall, legs SHAKING like she were a NEWBORN LAMB.

          ❝ I’m not going to sat idly by when one of my babies is hurt !! ❞ The PORCELAIN GEM is about to KICK THE DOOR IN, when SUDDENLY it BURST OPEN. Then the panic let loose && she began CLUMSILY RUNNING / PUSHING PAST the gems && YANKING the door open almost HARD ENOUGH to BREAK the front door off its hinges, bare feet against WOODEN FLOORS, chest BURNING, the smell of SALT WATER, tears STINGING her eyes. DROPPING heavily onto the beach, catching her breath as the wet sand crunched beneath her. Fingers CLUTCHING / TWISTING her shirt, HEART threatening to BURST from her ribs. Is she DYING ? Why is her chest so TIGHT ? Dread is CREEPING UP her spine, SQUIRMING between her ribs, making its HOME in her heart. 

          Heat CRAWLS across her skin && a RUSH of UNKNOWN FEELINGS, of something STIRRING to life, like someone LIT a MATCH inside her && FLAMES engulfed her, SWALLOWING her, urgent && molten. SHAME festers in the pit of her stomach. A shaky breath in through her mouth && back out her nose, calm down. It’s okay. Everything passes in a blur. Soon Connie found herself sitting in the sand, watching the tide ROLLING IN. Connie doesn’t REMEMBER how she ENDED UP sitting on the beach, it’s GROWING COLDER / the sun is being SWALLOWED by the sea, the sky BURNING yellow, orange && red. She chooses to IGNORE the footsteps, she already knows who it is.

PEARL.

          SHRUGGING OFF her COMMENT. ( Garnet must have told her... ) She was okay, she was MANAGING, could FUNCTION just fine. She wasn’t going to FALL APART like Steven had. She’s too NUMB / DRAINED to even bother CARING why Pearl is standing there AWKWARDLY, hands FUMBLING in front of her. Almost like she’s WORRIED / FEARFUL that at any MINUTE Connie would JUMP UP && SHATTER her gem like the MIRROR sitting in SHARDS in the sink. ( && EMBEDDED in her knuckles. ) She doesn’t want Pearl’s HELP, her LACKLUSTER ADVICE that Connie’s read from SELF HELP BOOKS. SHUT THE FUCK UP, PEARL ! Is what she wants to say / to SCREAM- lingering on her tongue, between clenched teeth && choking sobs. 

          Begging to be set FREE. But Connie KNOWS she’s NEVER going to let those HORRIBLE, STUPID, TRUTHS crawl from a weakened tongue && TREMBLING lips. ❝ I- ❞ She swallows heavily, shoulders SHAKING. ❝ I’m not Steven. I don’t need to be babied ! ❞ Words are COMING OUT more && more AGGRESSIVELY, more FRANTIC. It's almost SICKENING how the BITTERNESS is SLIPPING IN, invading her heart. Cheeks flushed SCARLET with UNBRIDLED RAGE, teeth CLENCHED && chest HEAVING, gasping breath.

          This SICKENINGLY SWEET, OVERBEARING ( S ) MOTHER. Who was CARING, voice DRIPPING with CONCERN, WIDE, DOE LIKE EYES- shimmering with a NEED to HELP / to PROTECT. Who seemed to want to CODDLE her like a NEWBORN BABY. It leaves a BITTERSWEET TASTE that fills her mouth, like SWALLOWING a HOT BED OF COALS, BURNING her from the INSIDE OUT. She wants to SCREAM. The brunette glare DAGGERS at the gem before turning her ATTENTION back towards the ocean. Biting back the URGE to just start LAUGHING ( or start CRYING ) in her face, JEALOUSY crept up her spine, Steven had gotten the Pearl she should’ve gotten. ( He needed that SIDE OF HER more than you ! You asked for this when you CHOOSE to pick up a sword. ) A LINGERING urge to PUSH HER AWAY && close herself off from those feelings. 

           Because she doesn't know how to handle it, because she NEVER heard those words from Pearl before. ( Steven’s SOFT HEARTED, LOVING Pearl ) so it feels ODD / UNNATURAL / UNCOMFORTABLE when she does, this is WORSE than hearing a  HARSH LECTURE from her ( or her MOTHER ), but this was coming from the mouth of a NICE, CARING Pearl. Her WORDS of RECURRENCE felt like a SLAP across the face now. It sat her TEETH ON EDGE. Connie felt a familiar TWIST of JEALOUSY in her HEART, acid rushed up her throat, this wasn’t the same Pearl who TRAINED her to DIE for the boy she LOVED / the son of a DIAMOND. She was RUTHLESS, COLD, CALCULATED, Pearl / The Renegade would NEVER TALK to Steven THE WAY she SPOKE to her on the SKY ARENA. Had she wanted to think Steven ( Pearl ) was to BLAME ? Was she REALLY that jealous of her BEST FRIEND ? No, of course not… right ? ...Right ?

          Head SWIMMING with an awful ball of anger that sat HEAVILY atop her heart, she was DRUNK ON it. The words ‘ The memories hurt the most, I know. ‘ pounded in her skull as fast as her  rapid / frantic, HEARTBEAT, ‘ But… what matters is that you… — ‘ it just kept REPEATING itself OVER && OVER as every WORD from Pearl CRAWLED under her skin, surged in her veins. This was becoming as close to an APOLOGY Connie knew she’d ever get from Pearl ( from any of the gems. ) ‘ You have to stay on top of it, Connie.’ The hair on the back of her neck rose, mouth dry. Why did she KEEP talking ? She LOVED the SOUND OF her own VOICE, Connie knew Pearl could talk for HOURS ON END without taking a single breath ( not that she needed to breath. ) Hands balled into fists at her sides. ❝ I said I’m fine… I have this… myself under control, what happened in the bathroom was just a slip up. I should probably cut back on the coffee. ❞ She won’t. 

          Yet another L I E gracing her lips. it was GROWING harder each day to DISTINGUISH the LIES from the TRUTH. How would EVERYONE know ? All she does is LIE LIE LIE LIE- LYING to Steven, Pearl, friends, her own PARENTS. LYING TO HERSELF. All fake smiles && forced laughter so no one sees how BROKEN INSIDE she really is. But keep lying. It’s what you're GOOD at. The PHRASE - ‘ I’M FINE. ‘ Turns BITTER, ROTTEN on her tongue, MASHING the words between teeth, swallowing them down a BLEEDING, RAW throat. But over TIME those words STARTED to sound HOLLOW, DEVOID of any MEANING / WORTHLESS words that fall EFFORTLESSLY from lips each time the phrases are SPOKEN to life again.

‘ Are you okay ? ‘

‘ You look tired. Have you been sleeping ? ‘

Or her FAVORITE- ‘ I’m here if you need to talk. ‘ No, you’re NOT !  

          Silence creeps across the two, chocolate hues watch with GLAZED OVER eyes, tears drying on cheeks, CRIMSON DROPLETS roll down her hand && laid on wet sand, the tide SWALLOWS UP the blood, like she never EXISTED, just another drop in THE ENDLESS && vast DEEP BLUE. Glancing up from her bleeding hands, towards the water, waves crashing, tickling her bare feet, soaking the bottom of her shorts. For a SPLIT SECOND Connie’s mind FLICKERS, GLITCHING- taking her back to the SECOND TIME she almost LOST HER LIFE from DROWNING. 

          Oh, how UNFORGIVING the sea ( Lapis ) is / was, the cold, HARSHNESS of it, the salty taste of water filling her lungs / a BUBBLE wrapped around her head. The MEMORY fills her with a SOUR TASTE of DREAD in the back of her throat, a PIN-PRICK of TRANQUILITY lingers in the back of her SKULL- whispering SWEET NOTHINGS like the VOICE of a LOVER. She didn’t see her LIFE FLASH BEFORE HER EYES like how its always described in BOOKS or MOVIES. It was just this LIFELESS, HEAVY WEIGHT was lifted from her shoulders && she could finally BREATHE ( METAPHORICALLY ) for the first time in her life. A inky BLACKNESS, muffled voices && the slowing of her HEART BEAT.

          After all the VEIL between LIFE && DEATH is PAPER THIN, having ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE on that fateful day she PLUMMETED to the BOTTOM of the SEA in a PINK BUBBLE all those years ago. She’s been greeting THE GRIM REAPER with open arms / the two were like OLD FRIENDS. ( waiting / longing with BATED BREATH for his KISS OF DEATH. ) She no longer FEARED it. Feared H I M. It gave her COMFORT knowing the sea would SOMEDAY, once again claim her BODY, cradling her SOUL && taking her HOME. She WISHES those THOUGHTS scared her. ( She still gets this TWINGE of ANXIETY when she has to shower or goes to the pool ) but that DEEP LONGING for the cold embrace of saltwater in her BURNING lungs && WEIGHTLESS FEELING, unburdened by the BATTLEFIELD that is her life. The UNENDING WAR in her BROKEN MIND.

          She WISHED Lapis ( White Diamond / Topaz / Jasper ) had KILLED her, she would have GIVEN her own life for STEVEN. The boy she LOVED so much her HEART ACHES, flutters between her rib cage. && like Pearl with PINK DIAMOND- she would do it without thought for herself. Steven was her life, her EVERYTHING. Her FIRST FRIEND / LOVING BOYFRIEND. ( FOLLOWING in Pearls PATHETIC, CLINGING, FOOTSTEPS with DEEPLY ROOTED NEED for a LOVER who would GIVE themselves up in a HEARTBEAT whether it's to SELFISHLY turn to STARDUST / BECOME A BLACK-HOLE && create a NEW, BRIGHTER STAR CHILD, made from LOVE && TRAGEDY / to self-sacrifice himself to the ENEMY GEMS thinking it's the right thing. PUSHING PUSHING PUSHING PUSHING THEM HER AWAY. Like he ALWAYS DOES ! )

          Keeping her gaze straight, tears simmering in RED RIMMED eyes, mouth set in a TIGHT FROWN. A small hiss through gritted teeth, pulling a slightly bigger shard out. She doesn’t want to talk about it, && doesn't want to think about HER. About any of it. She feels like she’s SUFFOCATING, she’s been DROWNING for years && no one seems to hear her CRIES, her pleading screams. Thrashing && trying to keep herself afloat in an ENDLESS VOID OF NOTHINGNESS, emptiness. So she built a GRAVEYARD inside her GUT, she’s been BURYING the DYING && ROTTING CORPSES of HERSELF in THE DIRT for YEARS. The WEAKNESS, FEAR, LONELINESS, her slowly crumbling MENTAL STATE, everything she deemed unfit to FIGHT by && PROTECT Steven. 

          She needs to be the PERFECT BEST FRIEND / GIRLFRIEND, STRAIGHT A STUDENT, QUIET / OBEDIENT DAUGHTER, PERFECT SWORD FIGHTER. So many DIFFERENT PEOPLE for everyone in her life. ( The one who can SHATTER White Diamond ! ) Needs to be SMARTER, STRONGER, SCARIER. She needs to be what THEY ( he ! ) need her to be. && she’s ready to bury her SOUL for it. COUGHING UP black dirt && swallowing STONES / where no words reach the surface, crying out for HELP even though she's not sure she even WANTS / NEEDS or DESERVES it.

She knows she doesn't.

          With a head FILLED with GHOSTS, parts of herself that refuse to stay BURIED IN THE GROUND, crawling, UGLY, BEGGING, LITTLE THINGS / mouths open in SILENT SCREAMS. Clawing, ripping with BLOODY, BROKEN nails TRYING to rip OPEN her throat && FREE THEMSELVES from this PRISON she’s BUILT in her HEART. ❝ It’s not a big deal, really. ❞ Biting down hard on her bottom lip to STIFLE the sob TRAPPED in her throat, don’t cry ! Don’t you DARE cry ! ❝ I just need to get over myself. It was one little memory, nothing to worry about, Ma’am. ❞ She forces a TIGHT SMILE, a laugh BUBBLES UP from a dry throat, wincing as she pulls the last bit of GLASS from her WOUNDED HAND. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LEAVE IT BE. 

          This STORM has been BUILDING UP inside her for years, on the cusp of her CHILDHOOD she’d been BRANDED with a METAPHORICAL SCARLET LETTER against TENDER SKIN with the ROLE OF ADULTHOOD, while still SEEN / TREATED like a HELPLESS CHILD. && in the AFTERMATH wears her TRAUMA like a NECKLACE of RUSTED CHAINS, wrapped TIGHTLY around a soft throat && slumping shoulders, GROWING heavier with each YEAR. A GALAXY / RAINBOW of bruises peppered her hand && DARK CRUSTED BLOOD RINGED around her knuckles. 

          The LOUD ACHE was COMFORTING && SAFE, Connie UNDERSTOOD IT- the PAIN, the BUDDING ANGER. Flexing her left hand to make sure her fingers weren’t BROKEN. Chocolate hues glance down at the BLOOD STAINED GLASS, with slow, steady fingers, she picks up the bits && stuffs them into her pocket so she can THROW IT away in the beach house. ( Couldn’t risk a SEAGULL getting injured because of her MISTAKE / OUTBURST ) curling inward, pulling, shaking legs to her chest.

          TERRIFIED of opening PANDORA’S BOX && letting all those GHOSTS && ROTTING CORPSES of herself, her TRAUMA out. But it keeps LEAKING OUT through the CRACKS, ( NIGHTMARES, smashing the bathroom mirror, && so much more it HURT her head to even THINK about them ) she’s SCARED that she’ll NEVER be able to UNTANGLE IT, it'll come RUSHING OUT like WATER in an OVERFLOWING SINK. So she keeps PUSHING IT DOWN, filling up that GRAVEYARD. 

          TELL ME IT GETS EASIER ? That she won’t always feel this TIGHTENING IN her chest, PANIC flooding her VEINS when she hears the name WHITE DIAMOND, that even just WALKING around Beach City makes her want to RIP her skin off. That she can’t take a SHOWER without having a PANIC ATTACK for an HOUR… PLEASE SHE NEEDS TO HEAR THAT ! She needs to hear from the ADULTS in her life to say SORRY. SORRY SORRY SORRY- Steven ALWAYS SAYS he’s SORRY, even if it’s not his FAULT ( it’s NEVER his fucking fault ! )

‘ WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU HERE IS FOREVER ! ‘