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womanlives · 1 year ago

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THE WHOLE-ASS SCOOP ON D&D/FAERUN MCMERCE.

Ever incite an all-out street war in Waterdeep between two of its premier criminal organizations and then get fuckin’ yoinked by a nautiloid into oblivion before they can flay you alive? No? Forget I asked.

What about Athkatla? Heard of the City of Coin? Biggest city in the wealthiest country of Faerûn. It’s old as balls, with an even richer history, to boot. Who gives a fuck. Here’s what you need to know: don’t cast arcane magic without a permit, remember to pay your protection fees to the Shadow Thieves, and money is all that matters. In Athkatla, anything goes. Slavery, lewdness — you name it. It’s only a crime if you can’t buy your way out of it. No, seriously. The people here pay to break the law.

Fuckin’ degenerates.

And you? You’re just another mistake from one of dozens of River District brothels: a half-elf brat with far too many freckles and nothing and no one in your corner — not even a name. Life in the slums is, unsurprisingly, shit. See, street urchins in the River District have two career options: play it smart, or die. Or get trawled up by the slavers. But we try not to think about door number three.

Anyway, you go for the former. Your plan: accumulate as much value as quickly as possible. Money, skills, whatever it takes to stay out of the slavers’ sights. You watch your small, squalor-filled world with intense blue eyes. Eventually you decide your best bet is those people who collect protection money from the brothel every fortnight. The Shadow Thieves.

All things considered, they’re not so bad as far as criminal organizations go. Sure, they’ll slit you neck to navel if you fuck up, but at least they’ll wait for you to fuck up first. Not like the Zhentarim, who’ll cut you down because they like the look of your boots — but that’s a different story.

Turns out the Shadow Thieves love exploiting nurturing young talent. In exchange for bits and baubles, a man with wizened, wrinkled skin teaches little nobodies like yourself the basics. Stealth, sleight-of-hand. Second-story work for the gifted. A little bit of knife-fighting. And for those who have talent, he teaches the very barest-boned magic, too — the arcane kind. Forbidden, maybe, unless it’s used in the service of the Thieves. You call him Leatherbones. He calls you Dispensable.

I mean. He’s not wrong.

For years, you work for Leatherbones. He’s a harsh teacher, and he doesn’t come cheap. You team up with a couple other kids so you can meet his quotas and patch up the punishments. One in particular takes you under his wing: a human boy roughly four or so years your senior. Hard to tell; everyone’s so malnourished. He covers for your mistakes, protects you from the worst Athkatla can dish out, becomes your whole world, then disappears when you’re fourteen years old. When you ask Leatherbones about it, you get a half-assed excuse about Boy rising through the ranks. Good luck finding him. The Shadow Thieves are nothing if not secretive.

So you steal a scroll of Detect Thoughts from the Cowled Wizards — yeah, you can see where this is going — and read Leatherbones’ mind. Cheeky little pup, indeed.

You get caught, of course. Idiot. You don’t learn where Boy went, but you do learn Leatherbones has other gigs off to the side. Nasty ones. Guild protocol says he has every right to kill you. He opts to turn a profit instead, selling you off to a contact in Waterdeep. You know you’re bound for nowhere good, but the roads are nothing if not dangerous. And it’s a long-ass trip. You wait until you’re in Waterdeep’s streets before whispering your favorite magic words, changing your face, and slipping off into the night.

By luck or fate, you’re picked up off the street by a whore named Chastity. Turns out she runs an all-female gang called the Flaming Roses. Operating as a splinter group of the Xanathar Guild, the Roses specialize in a particular kind of thievery: secrets. There’s only eight of you in the gang, but your reputation as information-brokers is rock-solid. The Roses use every trick in the book to sell a mere whisper for hundreds of gold.

This, you excel at. The Roses tutor you, refine you. Name you. Spiteful creature that you are, Mercy is all too fitting. They promise never to abandon you, and you give them what remains of your nasty little heart. Life continues, and for the first time, it’s good.

Here’s the problem, though you don’t know it yet. Some secrets are not meant to be stolen. And some lines are not meant to be crossed.

See, years down the road, you fuck the wrong person. Not you specifically — your family. One night you’re all celebrating a heist in your hideout when the Zhentarim bust in with nastiest weapons you’ve ever seen in your goddamn life. By the time you realize what’s happening, they’ve set the place ablaze and they’re forcing you to your knees and breaking your legs. Each time they scream something: tell me what you know. Each time the only response your sisters can give is, Nothing, we don’t know anything, she doesn’t know anything, let her go.

They kill your sisters one by one. Then, fires roaring around you, the leader of the raid — a man with rot-eyes and a hook nose — bends down and gives you an order. Tell me what you know.

You beg him not to kill you, because you don’t want to die alone. That’s it. That’s all you know. He smiles. For the first time his eyes come alive. It’s the scariest thing you’ll ever see. Then he pats you on the cheek, stands up, and leaves you there with broken legs to burn in the ashes of your dying home.

Hurts. Hurts so much. This is the only time you will ever wish yourself dead.

No such luck. A little gnome sent by your boss’ boss’ boss comes running to your rescue and pulls your body from the fire. His name is Dinklegus — Dinks, for short — and he saves your worthless life, because the rest of the bodies are too damaged to speak to in death, or revive. He loads you up in a cart and hightails it out of Waterdeep, heading for Baldur’s gate. Halfway through, you succumb to infection and die on the road. He slaps a revivify your head, tells you to suck it up and that you owe the Guild upwards of one-thousand gold for that scroll, and keeps on going.

So you put yourself back together, bit by bit. But you think you put yourself back together wrong.

As soon as you get to Baldur’s Gate, you’re thrust into yet another den of schemes and sneaks. This one’s run by a tough lady called Nine-Fingers Keene, who’s surrounded by women that each contemplate how they would kill you. Not a strong opener. You’re whole now — mostly — but your wounds are still jagged, and fresh, and raw. So when Nine-Fingers tells you that all along your family was working for her, you lock your jaw and decide you’ll never trust anyone again.

Then she sits down next to you and gives you an order. Tell me what you know.

You realize it, then. You are only as useful as the secrets in your skull. And, tragically for you, everyone seems to believe you know far more than you think you do.

You have to get out of here. Dinks’ rescue, the revivify, all of it — it wasn’t for you. It was for whatever your family was plotting. These people aren’t your friends. It’s Athkatla all over again. Once they realize you have no value, they’ll toss you in the trash or sell you for a copper on the street.

Besides, you have other plans. Namely raining hellfire down on every goddamn person who was there the night you should have died. You make up some half-baked excuse about being tired from travel and promise to write down all you know. Then you ask when you can go back to Waterdeep.

There’s the slightest hesitation from Nine-Fingers Keene. She feeds you some bullshit line about how you need to rest and recover. How about we let the clerics take care of those nasty scars of yours, hmm?

Bitch.

The Guild gives you lodging — what a coincidence your room happens to be under constant surveillance — and leaves you be with some blank pages and several pots of ink. You doodle dickbutts and bide your time and just when you think it’s as hopeless as they come, the unlikeliest ally arrives. Good old Dinklegus. Who woulda thought.

Here’s the deal. He’ll get you out. But he wants in on your plot to topple the motherfuckers who brought you so low. Easiest decision of your life. Is he playing you? Yeah, probably. You assume everyone is, now, but so long as he gets you out, you don’t give a fuck. You’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it.

He slips you a sending stone to keep in contact, some salami for the road (what a sweetheart), and tells you he’ll make a distraction at dusk. The rest is up to you.

Weeks later and you’re back in Waterdeep: a familiar place with a brand-new face. It takes years to re-establish your footing, but the Roses taught you well. You carefully craft several identities from scratch, each affiliated with one of the gangs in the area. It’s about a 50/50 split between the Zhentarim and the Xanathar Guild, and gods do those motherfuckers hate each other almost as much as you hate them. The Zhentarim in particular are a bitch to infiltrate, but goddamn if it isn’t worth it.

If only you were half as clever as you think you are. Your fuckup is inevitable. You let slip the wrong secret to the wrong Zhent. When your pieces start to fall, they fall like dynamite and dominoes. One cover blown, then another — before you know it, there’s war in the streets of Waterdeep between the Xanathar and the Zhentarim. You would be delighted, if your three titular false-faces hadn’t been exposed and you weren’t suddenly on the run for your life. Boo fuckin’ hoo. When are you not?

They’ll kill you dead this time if they catch you. You don’t mind that so much, but you’ve got unfinished business, see. Heads to collect. The man with the rot-eyes is still out there. Smash cut to a desperate escape through back-alleys and dead-end streets. Smash cut to the sky opening and a nautiloid pouring through, tentacles lashing out from over rain-soaked roofs. Smash cut to the mind flayers, the parasite. The insertion. The crash.

Well, aren’t you just fucked.

#mercy/hc.#mercy/bg3.#slavery tw #death tw #me :handshake: me #making everything longwinded as FUCK

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musashi · 3 months ago

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alcoholic dyke here and i think a lot of nuance has been lost in this conversation.

i've been here for all of it (i don't know if you have, OP, so forgive me if this sounds condescending at all) and i pretty much watched it happen and was annoyed and upset the whole time, 'cause you are fundamentally correct--being marginalized is a hell all its own, that is the root of why we have higher death and addiction and suicide and mental illness rates. i don't think anyone was ever insinuating otherwise, at least not anywhere i've seen it.

but from what i saw on this website & other online spaces vaguely adjacent, it went like this:

this post was made:

2. young queerfolk, alcoholics, disabled queers (with both physical & sensory sensitivities), and many other groups that fell in agreement with this for their own personal reasons added onto the sentiment. at the time (over a decade ago, give or take?) it was not the norm to have many other options besides 1. bar/nightclub or 2. GSA, if you were lucky enough to have one at your school/university.

3. of these groups that showed support for this sentiment were sex-repulsed asexual people who felt uncomfortable with the sexual nature & unspoken pressure to 'hook up' at gay bars & night clubs.

4. around 2014, exclusionists on this website decided that it was trendy to violently abuse asexuals & aromantics for clout. every single thing the aroace community did on tumblr was met with meangirl backlash at best and relentless vitriol at worst. this more or less destroyed the aroace community and it has still not recovered to this day.

5. one of the most potent forms of propaganda leveled at the ace community was malicious reframing of sex-repulsion as a concept. the sex-repulsed ace is, obviously, just minding their own business and living their truth--but exclusionists intentionally framed them as virulent, homophobic prudes who went around telling the ~real~ queers where they were and were not allowed to have their Gross Faggot Sex, etc etc.

6. one of the most effective ways they propagandized this was by out-of-context circulation of posts like the one i posted above.

(and, occasionally, actual psy-ops where users would pretend to be asexuals and intentionally post cringey, anti-sex, anti-kink, homophobic nonsense and of course the 'no internet skepticism skills' website believed it)

7. posts like this stopped being read in good faith. seeing a post like the above, tumblr users before the ace discourse instilled brainrot in half this website would see it and think "yeah! it would be awesome if we had more options." after the ace discourse, the reaction a lot of those same people would have would be more like "i cannot believe the cringey aces on this website are still acting like gay bars and night clubs are depraved sex dens full of rambunctious horny dykes. they don't even know how homophobic they are."

8. miraculously, eventually, the ace discourse freaks all either 1. moved onto bi/pan lesbians (and so far are doing a pretty shit job) or 2. were run off the site/out of communities because people unpacked shit and realized they were on the wrong side of things.

9. arguments in defense of the original point came back out of the woodwork. "now that the ace discourse has died down, can we please fucking get back to rallying for more queer spaces other than bars and clubs? the autistics, the mobility aid users, the children and teenagers, the sex-repulsed asexuals, and the alcoholics deserve options for community too."

10. presumably, these posts are circulating now, because they make good points.

i don't think any queer alcoholic is going to genuinely say that gay bars are the reason we have a higher alcoholism rate. we have that because society wants us dead and you have to find a way to survive knowing that. but 1. the alcohol companies know that and intentionally prey on us, see them setting up their rainbow floats at pride every year and 2. the lack of sober queer spaces makes it hard, often nigh impossible to stay clean and sober. it's hard enough to stay clean and sober as a cishet, alcoholics bleed friends like fucking crazy when we make the choice to stay sober or even just cut back. 12 step programs are largely bunk, but repeated studies have shown that the reason they work on accident is because they are a social space where addicts can find community without the pressure to use.

so if cishets struggle that hard, we struggle much harder. and, yes, the lack of sober queer spaces is a huge part of that. back in 2014, we addicts on tumblr were largely laughed out of every room we entered, every point of discourse we tried to spur on. i got a multitude of pretty violent threats on here back then for talking openly about intoxication culture and how addiction was a disability. and that was before the ace discourse ramped up.

so i think probably what's happening is queer addicts are finally feeling emboldened again to discuss this and perhaps some nuance is being lost in the many, MANY layers of telephone over the years. perhaps some of them are remembering the shitty discourse and how they were swept under the rug and persecuted as homophobes/apologists because they, for their own reasons, dared to share similar opinions with asexuals in 2014.

no, going to a gay bar doesn't turn queers into alkies, but it sure as shit is a lot easier to not die of alcohol poisoning at age 27 when you have the choice to walk into a social club or a cafe instead of a bar.

alcoholism is a problem in the lgbt community yes but there's something weird and mentally disconnecting about trying to say that's because there's too many gay nightclubs or whatever instead of the reality that being lgbt is just genuinely oppressive and will push people to maladaptive coping mechanisms. like did we forget that people become alcoholics for a multitude of more reasons than because they went to a club once

#wendy rambles #god i went through 37 flashbacks writing this. don't ask me what i've seen.#even in the notes of THIS POST people are still #repeating anti-ace discourse points from 2014 #stuff that never existed in any capacity #and was implanted in their heads by some no-life 20 something #with a fake blog called like asexy-winchesters-in-the-tardis-with-cake

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semi-imaginary-place · 6 months ago

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ffxiv 5.0 shadowbringers

this is the problem with playing 5.0 over the course of a year. how does the rejoining restore zodiak to full power?

and the other timeline, is that past or future. or of the awoken g'raha his loved ones were also in the past, a past that cid labored for.

why did emet-selch recreate amurot. there's other options like intimidation but given how sentimental and emo(in the original sense of emotional) shadowbringers has been I think it's because he wants to be understood, he wants at least one person to have seen his pain. so then at the capital he recreates the final days and end of the world making himself relive his trauma because he never left except this time he gets to show someone else.

just like taking the crystal exarch ostentatiously serves a purpose of torturing knowledge of the rift and time travel from him but I can't help but wonder if it was also to act as bait for the player character. afterall emy clearly wanted us to see amurot.

dungeon time

woops not so much creation magic gone wrong so much as the entire star is falling apart and people cant control having fear

ah i ran off the edge. this dungeon has too much moving around. i don't like moving i keep dying. I had to redo this 3 times, it's time to start doing dungeons as tank instead of dps.

emy sure love yapping. been practicing that villian monologue? why bother taunting the party that they aren't worthy.

back to the recurring theme of sacrifice. been wondering what the writers have been getting at with emy's sacrifice being framed as bad but "the good guys" like cid prime or ardbert (g'raha's is a neutral) have sacrifices framed as good, and it seems to boil to down to sacrifice of the self vs. sacrifice of others. like the player character's will to continue despite that pushing themself will turn them into the worst sin eater ever is framed as noble where as some of the other sacrifices aren't. Sacrificing all the source and shards' lives to restore the ancient is framed as bad. But ironworks sacrificing their timeline to restore the world is a positive.

so pc went from 8/14 to 9/14 (7 rejoinings + source + ardbert) see this is why i had that earlier discussion on whether umbral calamities should have redistributed across the shards or only to the source. because 1/14 making the difference between being overtaken by the light is a little ridiculous. 57% to 64% isnt some massive jump. if that's all it took others with the blessing of light should have been able to handle 1 light warden or split 1 light warden among many people. pc is such a special little child. Going from 1/7 to 2/7 (14% to 28%) is a bigger deal doubling the amount.

huh they put crystal exarch here just to justify this being a trial. "heroes beyond the rift" uh huh. why would you waste energy summoning a bunch of randos. it's established to be extremely draining to summon even 1 person. it's also established that crystal exarchs weakens the further from and the longer he is away from the crystal tower and it's been a while

See there's an easy narrative fix to this that but the writers chose not to pick this option. It's established there's 14 shards so they could have written it that there are 13 other wols running around in parallel lives, and every player is from a different shard from each other. but instead they made the shard be different worlds.

an axe instead of a sword this time. im not even going to bother sorting through the auracite stuff. Like break into shards and pierce hades but then its one big one an dhe crushes it what.

what I've been saying this whole time. Why not use it up or chuck it into the void. If the light aether would just reform sin eaters why not convert it. Mch literally has a little bix that does that. Or just use it like what happens here.

aw you get to say good morning to g'raha. and they got rid on that in the eng localization! so he doesn't get to mirror good morning back at you!

yeah how did we all get up. water pressure is a thing. oh right return spell is canon. but we swam up anyways. no way they should have been able to swim back. they should have just feo ul ex machina'd as usual. oh the halo on mt. gulg is physical i thought i was light. i've too use to european religious art. narrator changed from ardbert to g'raha. they wanted to do the classic sunrise after a long night thing except the whole premise of shb was to flip that on its head. it's been "big battle yay yay night sky" this whole time, weird time to break the pattern.

cylva got left behind once again

I can see why people like shb. in general it's better written than sb like the hard pivot from ala mhigo to doma was atrocious. But I might like sb better. 5.0 had a lot of little writing problems which most people probably didn't notice but I had to turn my brain off pretty often. there's quite a few moments that feel forced, the writers clearing want to make a Moment but it doesn't quite make sense. reminds me a bit of octopath traveler 1 actually like i can see what the writers of both are going for but they're just stretching the justifications and plausibility a little too far so if i don't think about the details it's a nice story but the more i think about it the more problems there are. or another way to put it the outline is fine the elevator pitch is great, but the details and execution and actual writing leave something to be desired. i enjoyed it but not because of msq so much as it's really fun to run around as a bunny boy, the same reason i enjoyed arr. The writing is indeed better but I'm not sure I'd call it good yet, 5.0 does have it's moments, but I think the biggest different between 2.0 and 5.0 is that shb is much flashier, it's showy and with fun animations and voice acting and actual cutscenes and has modern music just on the showmanship aspect and production value of course people are going to like it more. It also has fleshed out storylines. But looking at the flaws on shb no wonder ffxvi is a trainwreck, but a flashy trainwreck.

#ffxiv #ffxiv 5.0

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animalcrossing-blogg · 1 year ago

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are any of these your original posts? if not, please stop uploading other people's content.

Well... yeah. I can't lie... a chunk of the photos I've posted are mine or my friends. While I'd rather not have to prove myself to the anon ask, I can point out each individual screenshot from me or someone I know if I needed to.

When they're not mine I never take credit and it says very clearly on my account that I will remove or add credit to photos on request if the owner is unhappy.

If I really wanted to get into the technicality of it (this is where law class finally helps me) all photos I use, excluding art, could be used without any 'credit' due to the content being a screenshot of Nintendo brand products that's free to use (mostly) for us lot. So I don't even owe the courtesy of offering removal... of course, I would never not do that - that would just be ridiculously rude. I will always provide the option of removal, no matter the reason. What Im saying is there's, by technicality, no obligation if you want to be literal about it.

All the photos that I dont take myself are pulled from my Pinterest. My special interest is Animal Crossing and I have (as of rn) 5,924 Animal Crossing pins and by no means the time to hunt down each individual owner. And for many of the photos I use, especially the ones from old games, there is the issue of being unable to track down the original poster.... it's not even like Im bad at this... I edit the Animal Crossing Wiki, so you know I can produce sources. Its just that sometimes that source is beyond your reach. That doesn't mean Im not going to post the pretty Animal Crossing photo from 2015 or the meme that got a chuckle out of me. If I see a meme on Pinterest that originated from Tumblr then I don't save it or use it, Ill just find the original.

Finally, art is something that I respect a lot as an artist, so I hesitate to post any art if I don't have the source available to me. You might notice a distinct lack of art on this blog at a baseline and that's because of this concern.

I gotta be honest here man, unless you're the owner of every post Ive ever made then Im not just gonna stop posting. Im at no point claiming to own all these photos, but a good chunk of them are screenshots from old games, with owners who don't even exist in the ac world anymore. Many new screenshots include a handy-dandy watermark which I never remove and in the worst-case scenario most posts can be, at the least, traced back to my Pinterest.

Im not going to stop posting memes, screenshots and the occasional irl AC craft because Anonymous said it was bad. If you have a personal issue because I used something of yours I encourage you to just contact me directly and I can remove it, but until that point please have a nice day.

TL:DR - No. I dont own everything I post and I don't even claim to own everything but yeah a chunk ARE mine or my friends. I dont post art, memes never come from a direct source please be serious, sometimes posts are so old there is no credit and if nobody ever reshared the photos from 2020 and before I think we would be living in a dark and sad timeline. I want to live in Animal Crossing every day, I have given 15 years of my life to this game and you can either join me in loving the vast recorded history of the game or go about your day enjoying your life in your own way, away from me.

If it really is truly a bother, Im happy to place a link to my Pinterest somewhere obvious on my blog so people can see for themselves where I get all this from, if not my own town.

#askacb #Anonymous #animal crossing #hopefully this doesnt come off as rude #im autistic as hell idk how to talk #but I stand by posting fun screenshots #oneday when im a master blogger with thousands of photos of my own Ill ONLY post MY photos and then you guys wont even be able to escape me #how about that?

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galactichelium · 2 years ago

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A bit of a ramble below the cut 😭 Didn't intend for it to be anywhere near this long, but there's just a Lot of layers to this that I wanted to talk through

I feel really bad irt not often adding IDs to my art because like. I want to, but, ironically, my disabilities (my chronic pain which is especially bad in my hands, and also tbh autism and ADHD doesn't make it easier either, with trying to find the right words to describe things + ADHD brain fog) make it incredibly difficult to add it myself a lot of the time. This is made even worse by the fact that my two options for writing an ID are either right after I've made the drawing to post later (usually night time for me, within an hour or two of me going to bed), or right as I'm posting it. Neither are ideal as well, for the first one, I'd obviously be in more pain after just drawing. And for the second one, because of timezone stuff, I usually aim to post my art around my 8 - 9 am (5 - 6 pm EST). Unfortunately, due to the nature of my chronic pain, with it getting worse with inactivity, this is when my pain would be at its worst. After just sleeping. I take my pain meds in the morning with breakfast also, so they would be at their least effective around this time. I've also changed pain meds so now they're slow release, they don't immediately kick in anymore.

I used to add alt text more often, but it's really hard to get the energy to do it anymore when I know it's not only incredibly difficult to think of the words to do it, but also difficult to do the active process of typing it all up. Not that it wasn't difficult back then, I still struggled with thinking of words, but now there's more things at play. It was easier to get the energy when that was the only problem.

I know this is kind of ironic, as this post already has more words than an ID would. But truth is, I've already had to stop a couple of times to crack my knuckles and stretch my hands. This is still easier than doing an ID, because I don't need to struggle as much with thinking of the right words, but, still does make my hands hurt. Like, honestly, back when I was more frequently doing IDs, the fact that I'd need to do an ID actually stopped me from drawing ideas I had a couple of times, because I knew it would be too difficult to describe. I wish it was easier, I really do.

HOWEVER. I was planning on trying to my art 1 - 2 hours later. Bc while 5 - 6 pm is good with teens in mind, I think there's less of them in the HS fandom now. And now that I'm a little older, I think I'd want my audience to skew a little older anyway. Not that I'd be posting anything that'd be inappropriate on that blog, but more, most of my drawings have queer themes that are confusing on purpose in them, and I don't trust young teens to have the best ideas around it. However having said that I might end up starting a sideblog for more risky art, as nowadays I feel it'd be much easier to express queerness in that way, but that's unrelated lmfao. But yeah. Posting 1 - 2 hours later might make it a bit easier to do IDs also, because both my pain meds and my ADHD meds should've kicked in by then.

Funnily enough, I started writing this post right after taking them (a little under an hour ago now), and I was still struggling with thinking of words and typing those words. But of course it ended up being quite extensive, so clearly those problems have been helped lmfao. But, as expected, I'm now in a bit of pain, so now I'll probably rb like 1 or 2 posts and then just watch YouTube for a bit SDJGKSGD

#Iron text

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wheelsup · 3 years ago

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kissing lessons

summary: one of your classic movie nights with spencer turns into a learning opportunity

A/N: this is really fluffy, but the whole story centers around kissing. use your own judgement! i’d say it’s at worst 16+

category: spencer reid x gn!reader, fluff (with a bit of spice) best friends to lovers (sorta)

warnings: just kissing, a brief implication at the end

word count: 3k

Occasionally, the team will spend an extra night in their hotel before heading home from a case. Be it due to poor weather conditions, or the fact that your case wrapped in the dead of night, the reasons for flying don’t ever matter. Because the majority of the times when you have to stay that extra night, you and Spencer have sleepovers.

The routine is pretty much the same. You’ll stock up on gas station snacks – sour peach rings for Spencer, salted microwave popcorn for you – and reconvene in one of your hotel rooms. Preferably, whichever of you got the better deal that week – a bigger tv, a room further away from the ice machine. And you’d rent the cheapest movie available on-demand, the options spanning from low-budget sci-fi to poorly written rom-coms. That night, the viewing fell under the latter category.

Spencer perched at the foot of your bed with both feet tucked under his legs, criss-cross style, while you laid against the headboard to watch. Every now and then, you tossed out your commentary and he’d ignore it. He always says you’re too critical of movies and you’re of the belief that he’s too forgiving.

“I don’t think they should end up together,” you mumbled, words slurring around your mouthful of popcorn. You pulled a face right as the movie approached the romantic climax, after spending the past ninety minutes actively rooting against the couple. Spencer ignored you, pretending to be engrossed in the movie to spite your disparagement of it. “They both suck.”

You groaned, slumped further against the pillows, and shoved your sock-clad toes under Spencer’s left thigh in a call for attention. He jumped at the intrusion, but ultimately, your efforts were futile.

And then the big kiss commenced, and your booing finally piqued his interest. “Gross! I feel bad for people who kiss like that.”

A small bell went off in his head and he took a curious glance at you over his shoulder.

“What do you mean?” he asked. He stopped chewing and the piece of candy in his mouth pushed out his cheek, giving him an adorably innocent look. His brows scrunched in the middle and his nose had a tiny crinkle in it, utterly confused.

You scoffed and matched his expression. “Are you serious?” You jerked your head in the direction of the television and Spencer whipped his head back, squinting. He couldn’t figure out what you were pointing out, what it was that was so obviously wrong to you. “Spencer, he’s swallowing her chin!”

Oh. He hadn’t noticed.

Feeling dumb, he muttered, “I thought that’s how you’re supposed to kiss…” It wasn’t the deepest confession to admit to you that he lacked some knowledge when it came to kissing, but he still refused to look at you as he said it.

“Spencer, please tell me you haven’t been kissing people like that.” You narrowed your eyes at the back of his head, sitting up straighter in bed. He shrugged and lowered his head, focusing on his snack as his fingers dug into the packet of gummy rings in his lap.

He popped another piece into his mouth, pretending to be occupied with eating so as to avoid your prying. “I dunno.”

It didn’t occur to you until that moment that Spencer might have learned everything he knows about kissing – among other things – solely through watching movies. How else could he look at that and think it’s normal? And you’re left wondering if he’s ever even practiced it with another living human. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, but unfortunately, that only heightened your interest. You had to know.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” You kept your voice low, your tone implying that you were ready to exchange this secret with him. You wouldn’t judge him if he admitted he hadn’t.

He scoffed loudly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you’re positive he rolled his eyes too. “Yeah, of course.” Then quietly, he added on, “But it was only like… for four seconds.”

You nodded thoughtfully, considering how this new piece of information adjusted your existing view of Spencer. For some reason, you couldn’t tell if you actually expected him to be experienced or not.

He didn’t exactly scream that he’d… gotten around, for lack of better words, but you’re still surprised to learn that he’s barely done it at all. You supposed he was objectively cute, that maybe you could see it if he weren’t your best friend. And yeah, he’s a little awkward, but he’s smart and kind, so he has three great things going for him, and you’re surprised more people haven’t swooped him up yet.

Your lips curled down in thought, brows raised in curiosity. “And was it good?” It was a genuine enough question, because you’ve never really thought about Spencer Reid and kissing in the same sentence before. As it turned out, there was a lot of missing information relating to those two things.

“I don’t know! I didn’t get, like, a feedback form,” he grunted, angling his shoulder even further away from you. If you could’ve seen him, you’d notice his face boiling and turning red with heat. All this inquiring made him think harder about his … talents … than he’s ever had to before, and he’s not a fan.

You were prepared to do some more digging when the slump in his back made you feel a tinge of guilt. It was your fault he looked so defeated. You pressed too hard, disregarding his boundaries just because you wanted to know more. And now, he was wondering if there was something wrong with him, because you wouldn’t leave it alone.

He barely noticed as you swung your feet from under his thigh and rocked onto your knees, leaning forward to nudge his shoulder with your palm. It hauled his attention out of his thoughts and back into the room. You wanted to apologize, but instead you settled with “I’m sure you’re fine, Spence.”

He nodded unconvincingly. By the glow of the screen, you could see he was still gnawing on the inside of his cheek, focusing his eyes as he played with a loose hangnail on one of his fingers. It made you feel even worse. “Are you actually worried about it?” you asked, laden with concern.

“What if I am bad at it?” He whispered, like saying it too loud would make it true. “And that’s why it’s only happened once?”

A large exhale puffed out of your nose as you weighed your options.

You could go back to your original plan and apologize for setting him down this path of doubt. But that wouldn’t do anything to stop him from worrying, anyway. You could tell him there’s no correlation between the way he kisses and how frequently it’s happened; that you’re sure the reason isn’t because he’s bad. But you don’t know that for sure.

So, fuck it, you thought, grabbing a fistful of his pajama shirt and tugging him closer to you roughly, pressing your lips onto his.

This way, you’d at least have an informed opinion to be able to tell him if he was good or bad.

His lips were softer than you expected – not that you’d thought about them often, they’re just impossibly softer than they look – and invitingly warm. But they were completely stiff.

You could tell he was trying to kiss you back by the way his mouth ferociously moved over yours. He was trying to be a passionate, engaged partner, but he forgot about the aspect of tenderness.

His lips felt like two solid objects just sliding around on your face. They didn’t move in any sort of accordance with yours. There was no push and pull, your lips didn’t mesh perfectly together to form a solitary unit as they moved in unison.

It felt more like his lips were your opponent, putting up an attack and defense play against the actions of your own.

You pulled away, resisting a giggle at his bewildered face. “You’re not so terrible,” you swipe the corner of your mouth, smudged with Spencer’s flavored chapstick, “But it could use some work.”

He was at a loss for words, mouth gaping open as his eyes darted around the room and all over you. Maybe he’d find an explanation for what just happened carved into the walls somewhere or written across your forehead.

What happened was that you kissed him. And he was a little bit bad. Simple as that.

“I-I wasn’t ready!” he stammered, chucking up his hands defensively. He’d process the fact that he’d just made out with his best friend at a later time, right now the bigger concern was the slight cringed look on your face. He sulked and folded his arms.“What was so bad about it?”

“Well,” you scratched the back of your ear, trying to gauge if he’d react well to getting some advice, “my first tip would be to relax your lips.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“And don’t think too hard. You should react to what’s happening in the moment, not worrying about what your next move is gonna be.” You could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to envision what that would play out like in a real situation. “You wanna try again?” you offered, figuring he’d learn much faster if he was more hands-on about it.

He nodded, and you leaned in close, waiting for him to go for it. His heart quickened under the pressure of performance, eyes screwing shut as he closed the gap. His mouth smashed into yours as he dove in hard. It was toeing on the side of too harsh, but you let that one slide in hopes it was just a byproduct of his nerves.

You had to tap his knee to remind him to relax, and he loosened some of the tension he had in his lips. He slotted his between yours, allowing them to be pliable to your movements and remembering to react, not plan.

He moved his mouth leisurely against yours, trying to match your pressure and pacing. They actually started moving in time with yours at some point. The kiss took on a shape of its own as he started getting out of his head, letting himself enjoy the kiss for what it was in that exact moment.

It was already better than before. Leaps and bounds better. But then he tried to deepen it, building on its intensity but adding more… something into it. You couldn’t even tell what it was he was trying to do.

“Okay, second tip…” you inhaled sharply, pushing him off of you with a palm against his chest. Whatever it was, it needed to stop. “You kinda do this thing like… where you’re blowing air into my mouth?” You scrunched your nose, punctuating your dislike. “That feels weird. Don’t do that. If anything, do the opposite.”

“I’m supposed to suck the air out of your mouth?” His face contorted, voice already slightly exasperated. He barely understood what the air thing was that you claimed he did. He didn’t realize in the process of trying to add pressure to the kiss, he was just forcibly blowing against your mouth.

“Not literally, no.” You laughed a little, rubbing your palm in a comforting pattern on his chest.”But you can use your lips to suck on mine, or my tongue… just nothing involving the exchange of breath. We’re not in CPR training.”

He eased up a little with your joke, adjusting to your advice he gave it another try. After a few moments, he latched onto your bottom lip with his own, sucking it softly into his mouth. “Yeah, like that,” you mumbled against him, voice pitching high in encouragement. He sucked on it with a little more greed, holding it for a second, then eased up, varying the pressure of his movements just like you did before.

You made a mental note to praise him for that at a later time, deciding to instead part your lips to see if he’d venture into further experimentation.

He caught on quickly. He parted them further, prodding his tongue against them as you opened to allow him entry. Just as you started to really enjoy it, he ran his tongue over the inside of your mouth, moving it fast and roughly like he was a washing machine.

“Stop,” you grimaced, tearing away quickly. You had to swipe your hand over your mouth to get rid of the excess saliva that really shouldn’t have been an issue in the first place, given how brief the frenching was. “Your tongue is way too aggressive.”

Overwhelmed, he tilted his head to the ceiling and let out a frustrated grunt, slapping his hands down to the top of his thighs.

There were too many factors to worry about. He had no idea how you looked at him with a straight face and told him not to think too much when there were a million things he needed to remember all at once; he needed to vary his moves to keep it interesting, but make sure he’s not ruining the flow by changing things up too much, and to be gentle but not timid.

All of this was second nature to you, but it was brand new to Spencer. Could you really blame him for not getting the hang of it right away? You decided to stop your list of critiques short for this round to spare him. He’d get there eventually, but not if he felt discouraged too soon.

“I don’t see why people like it in the first place,” he huffed, his head returning to it’s normal posture. In Spencer’s eyes, there truly wasn’t any appeal to kissing with tongue; it looked sloppy and unnecessary, and as you’d just confirmed, it actually was.

You thought about his statement for a second. There’s a certain allure to it, and you didn’t know how to describe it to him. So instead you cupped his cheeks in both your palms and slid your mouth over his again. As his jaw slacked its tension, you slowly pushed your tongue past his lips and gently pressed it against his own before swirling them together.

You sighed softly into his mouth, running your fingers through his hair and tugging carefully at the ends. He made a small noise against you, something like a whimper, and you swallowed the vibrations of it. As you retreated, you captured his bottom lip between your teeth and gave it a light, teasing tug. You soothed it again with your lips before releasing it, a proud giggle forming in your chest as Spencer chased after your lips as you broke apart.

“That’s why.” You smirked at the dazed look on his face. His eyelids remained closed longer than necessary, still feeling the ghost of your mouth on his and a tingle where your fingers were in his hair.

“Oh.” His voice came out meek as he slowly came back to reality, brows wrinkling up his forehead as he opened his eyes.

He put both his palms down on the mattress, one laying flat on either side of you, and dove forward to resume the kiss right where you left it. A surprised squeak left you as his mouth collided with yours with an insatiable hunger. You brought one hand back to his hair, and he was a goner.

He unfolded his legs from under himself and shuffled onto his knees, following his hands until he practically crawled into your lap. Each of his legs hooked onto either side of your thighs as he hovered over your lap, leaning his body entirely into yours.

The physics of it didn’t hold up; he’s taller than you are, and his chest was too heavy for you to carry. The balance was off center and it sent you tumbling back onto the mattress, bringing him down with you until his chest laid on yours.

It was the perfect force – the weight of him on top of you. He tasted like peach candy and sour sugar, and you found yourself craving more of it.

You shuffled higher up the mattress, giving him space to stretch out his body as he followed yours. One of his hands found your waist, gripping tightly, while he placed the other on the mattress beside your head, using it to steady himself. Sliding your legs out from under him, you wrapped them on the outside of his hips, using them to pull him closer down to you.

It only broke off in moments when both of you absolutely needed to get air, gasping as you pulled apart for brief reprieve before colliding again. He followed every word of your advice, getting better with each passing second until he exceeded expectations by leaps and bounds.

Your fingers weaved through his hair, passionately tugging the wavy strands to angle him against you and igniting his nerves under your touch. A soft moan leaves him and you’re encouraged to tighten your grip on them. His hips bucked reactively at the sensation, and he quickly pulled back, a slight embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. He got too carried away.

You took in his flushed face and swollen, kiss-bruised lips. They’d turned a shade of red brighter than you’ve ever seen them, and it was all you could do not to dive for them again as his tongue sweeped over them, soothing the burning heat you’d left on them.

Before he could apologize for his eagerness, you nudged your nose against his, your smile skimming against his lips. “So what else don’t you know how to do?”

☆

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whatanoof · 4 years ago

Text

A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #sex pollen #pining fools #pining #fluff #feelings #smut

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yhwhsdaughter · 3 years ago

Text

pairing: trevor belmont x fem reader

content: forced vampirism, monster slaying, main character death, pining, angst, mention of animal death, usage of the word ‘assault’ to refer vampires feeding on reader

- this was meant as platonic soulmates but it can be seen as romantic too

“It hurts…”

Feet dragging across the rocky ground, you heard screeches of pain from behind, though they soon diminished. You could only focus on the pulsing sensation at the side of your neck; it was like fire rushing through your veins.

Preoccupied with your agony, Belmont was able to sneak up. He raised his whip, ready to kill off the last of the creatures when you suddenly turned, and with glossy eyes you said, “Help me…”

The whip managed to leave a thin horizontal line across your cheek as he pulled back, causing blood to drip out slowly. Now illuminated by the moon, Belmont saw the damage on you. Skin exposed by the ripped clothes showed multiple bite marks. Blood stained the corner of your lips.

She’s been infected..

Belmont didn’t see a monster but a scared woman who’d just been assaulted by vampires. He knew what she’d turn into, but he couldn’t kill her… not when she looked at him like this. Sunrise was approaching so he had to act fast.

Draping his cloak onto your form, Belmont proceeded to carry you into the nearest building, which so happened to be where the carnage had occurred. Upon recognizing the place, you began to panic, shaking and looking at him with distrust. “You’re safe. I killed every last of those bloodsuckers.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, in that shitty stinking room. Eventually tiredness overcame your senses; Belmont felt weight settle on his shoulder. He wonder how a vampire could look so innocent whilst sleeping.

“Hungry…”

You felt parched; it felt like your throat had dried up, barely able to utter a word.

“I know.”

A rabbit was placed in front of you. Blinking at it, you directed a confused glance at the man. “I’m—this is.. for me?” He nodded. Taking the animal with traces of disgust, you raised it to your mouth. Blood gushed into your mouth; feeding made a horrible slurping that would certainly haunt you but there was relief amongst those troubling feelings.

You gulped every last drop, draining the poor creature of its life. Still, your hunger and thirst weren’t satiated. Biting your lip, you pondered on the next move. Because this man had saved you, daring to kill him or even feed off him seemed… rude. Not to mention, he seemed way stronger than you in terms of experience. Prior to this, you were a regular citizen. Maybe you could run away?

“Here.”

Trevor could see your turmoil. Most vampires needed to drain at least one human every time they fed—if they were being generous. They could survive weeks without blood but it made them weaker. Besides, it was older vampires who had this kind of self control. Newborns tended to be more unstable.

“Just take it before I change my mind.”

You did as told, though you were still unsure. Hesitating, you licked your lips before nearing towards the vein on his wrist.

Trevor let out a grunt when your fangs pierced him. Although you tried to be gentle, it was an uncomfortable feeling nonetheless. As he became lightheaded and you full, the mouth that was attached to his wrist removed itself with a ‘pop’.

After making sure he was alright, you asked for his name. “Trevor. Trevor Belmont.”

“Oh..”

“……”

“Oh! I’m (Name) (Surname).”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

“It’s dangerous.”

“I still-still want to go!”

The last remnants of sun were gone. Ever since your first encounter with the rugged monster hunter, you refused to part from him, following the latter like a lost puppy.

“I’m not much of a fighter.. b-but watch this!”

On cue, you punched the nearest tree, cracking it and making a sizable hole. You looked back proudly towards Trevor; except when you tried to pull your hand out, you were having difficulty.

“Ah. It’s stuck.”

Trevor couldn’t help but chuckle, walking away, clearly amused with your display of power. You pulled harder, “Hold on! Don’t leave me alone! It’s scary..” you muttered the last part while chasing after him. Despite being a creature of the night, the world and its evils still frightened you.

At the sound of a branch snapping, you yelped, grabbing a piece of Trevor’s cloak for security.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Belmont when you punched a head clean off, practically decapitating one of the attackers. He might have been seriously injured if you had not intervened.

“Trevor.”

Gazing at you under the moonlight, he saw the hunger in your eyes as you held a man whom was still alive but struggling. His neck was exposed. Even so, you waited.

The Belmont turned away, giving you privacy to feed.

He knew that by allowing you to live, you would continue to take blood from others. Normally he wouldn’t feel soft towards a monster but whenever he thought of you, it was different.

His guilt was lessened when you drank from scum. Before putting the lives of innocents in danger, he would offer his own.

“Are you done?”

The corpse of the man was dropped unceremoniously as you joined Trevor, a light skip to your step.

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Despite adopting a nighttime lifestyle, Trevor was still human and had to conduct business during daylight hours.

He’d left your lodgings, which was an abandoned cottage, for a while. Nobody really passed through there anyway, so he thought you were safe. Worst came to worse, you could handle yourself. But as your self proclaimed protector, Trevor felt uneasy leaving you alone.

Maybe he should’ve listened to his gut because when he arrived, the door was wide open with dirty footprints leading in all the way to your coffin.

Two men had opened it—staring at the peaceful expression on your face, unaware that they were here to end you. To them it was obvious what you were. Even with that frilly white dress that made you look somewhat angelic, they couldn’t be fooled. As they raised their weapons to strike, Trevor used his whip. His sudden entrance startled them but it gave you the chance to wake up.

Eyes snapping open, you jumped onto the other man, taking both of you to the ground. His screams echoed shortly as you tore into his throat. The remaining one had no chance; Trevor left the room, closing the door on his way out, killing the light that entered and cutting off the way to escape.

Left alone with your prey, a smile crept up your face.

When you opened the door again, the dress which decorated your body was now stained red. There was hardly a clean piece on the material. Even so, you greeted Trevor with a hug.

“Trevor..”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“M-me too..”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Forty years passed in the blink of an eye.

“You should retire.”

“Belmonts don’t retire. The only rest they get is when they’re dead.”

“Well I don’t want you to die.”

“I have to, someday.”

“No you don’t.”

It’s been like this for the past few years; Trevor was sixty now. His body didn’t look that of an aging man, but the expression on his face did. He’d seen too much and as time passed, it was harder to fight monsters by himself.

Of course you’d noticed that and suggested turning him. It was an ongoing discussion; Trevor didn’t fancy the idea of living an eternal life but the thought of leaving this earth without you was disheartening. He didn’t say it but the situation tore him apart.

There was also the fact that he was too old for you; forty years to be exact. You’d maintained your youth, looking lovely as ever. His doubts were shot down when you immediately said that you didn’t care about that.

“I just want you.”

He always kept pushing the conversation away and you were patient. Trevor supposed that you could’ve taken him by force if you wanted and when he inquired, you told him it would be like violating him, robbing him of the choice you were never given.

As understanding as you were; the time would come for him to decide and confront you about it.

That time was now.

He should have been more careful, but there was nothing to be done about it now. Trevor watched as the sun slowly descended. Would you make it here before he passed? Would he die without seeing you one last time?

When you woke night had already fallen. Trevor wasn’t home; he’d been late plenty of times before but this occasion felt different.

Upon stepping outside, the smell of blood hit you. It reeked, staining the very air. You immediately recognized the source—how could you not? You’d fed from Trevor countless times.

Rushing in that direction, you prayed to whatever entity was listening to keep Trevor safe. The world and its gods could condemn you, but not him.

Not him.

You found him sprawled on a big rock, a creature hovering over his crumpled figure. Without thinking, you tore it to pieces. Blood rained as his mangled body flew to various parts of the forest.

“Trevor!!!”

He let out a groan, which would’ve made you sigh in relief but his visible injuries proved otherwise. You were no doctor and even if you could carry him into town, it would be too late. There was no other option. If you didn’t do anything, you might lose him.

“Trevor. Let me do it.”

Still conscious enough to reply, “I don’t want to become—”

“A monster?”

“I cannot become what I sought to destroy..”

Tears escaped your eyes, blurring the image of the person whom you treasure most. “Please.. please please please..! Don’t leave me alone!”

You begged, knowing it was unfair to pressure him in such way but you couldn’t bare the thought of existing if he wasn’t present. He was your salvation, your companion…your world. And yet, he was being robbed from you.

So soon… It’s too soon!

You always imagined Trevor living well into old age, spending the remainder of his life with you, being happy. He was destined to die peacefully, not like this. Not in this shitty place, by the hands of a shitty monster!

“I can’t. I’m sorry..”

Grabbing his hands, you lowered your forehead on them, crying your heart out. It was unfair. Life was unfair.

“Kiss me.”

Despite the pain that he was in, Trevor found it in himself to smile. For you. “Kiss me one last time.” Tears dropped slowly as you heard him. Shaking your head; you couldn’t kill him.

“I want it to be you..”

His words struck a chord.

Lifting him by the neck in a gentle manner, you pushed the collar of his shirt aside, exposing his carotid. As you bit into his familiar skin once more, your other hand caressed him, trying to make this goodbye as painless as possible.

With every sip you took, tears fell down.

I love you! I love you! I love you!

His warm hand turned cold.

You held him in your arms like he once did to you, with the outmost care, with the love he deserved.

Since Trevor didn’t say where he wanted his body to be buried, you chose the nicest spot. It was a secluded place where it wouldn’t be dug up by animals or people—but not so hidden either.

Whilst cleaning the blood that covered his body and face, you found a piece of cloth with writing on it. Staring at it, you recognized the Belmont insignia. Turning the material, you managed to read the words…

Take this. Go to Alucard.

Trevor must’ve written that in his final moments; probably in case he didn’t make it before you arrived. The letters were sloppy because of the blood but you could read it well.

Clutching it to your chest, you sobbed until the light of day began to burn. For a moment you wished to stay there and disappear. Perhaps you could join Trevor.

Together even in death..

─── ☾☼☽ ───

The journey was rather long.

Looming in all its glory, Castle Dracula. You looked at the last piece of your beloved, holding it tighter in your hand.

“Okay. Let’s meet this Alucard.”

#trevor belmont #castlevania trevor #trevor x reader #trevor x you #trevor x y/n #castlevania #castlevania x reader #castlevania x you #castlevania x y/n #alucard #alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard x y/n #vampire

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junowritings · 3 years ago

Note

Hello there mighty one!

May I request the bois reacting to fem!reader carrying tyem 'princess' style?

Reader looks week, skinny she looks like they don't have that much muscles. (Ironically they radiate big_D energy). She carries them like they don't weight that much. (+ Bonus points if reader acts like it's a normal thing!)

Be it a bet or one of the boys got injured or something else but reader ends up carrying them. That's literally it lol

Thank you ahead! ❤️💓

OH MAN THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SORRY! I had so much fun with this and I really hope that it was well worth the wait thank you so much for requesting!

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Riddle

♡ Honestly, you get a serious kick out of surprising people with your strength. Everyone always underestimates you, thinking that you’re too scrawny to pick up a chair much less even try picking up a person. You always protest about it, but unless someone actually wants you to show off just how strong you are you rarely get the chance to show off just how strong you are. Your fellow students would lose it if they found out just how easy it was to get swept off of their feet - you yanked Ace up into your arms once when he made the mistake of teasing you about it, giving him a little hoist into the air for good measure and cracking up at the shocked wheeze he let out at how easily you lifted him. Needless to say you’re pretty strong even if you don’t look it.

♡ You’d been lying if you said you hadn’t at least been a tiny bit tempted to carry Riddle around if only to see how he reacts - just thinking about the priceless look on his face was an amusing thought, but it remained as thoughts because as funny as it would be you value the life of yourself and your fellow classmates over the idea. It just so happens that thanks to a certain series of events, you actually get the chance to see the scenario play out in real life, surprisingly through no fault of your own.

♡ There’s certain times of the day where the crowds of students around Night Raven College swell and dissipate depending on where you are. In the middle of the day the rush is arguably the worst to anyone hoping not to get lost within a swarm of students bustling from their classrooms. It’s the period right before lunch actually starts, and whilst you should technically be in class right now, you’d all gotten enough done that you were allowed out a few minutes earlier than usual. Frankly you were more than happy for the extra minutes - it meant a few precious moments where you could tear through the hallways and get to the cafeteria to nab a snack before the main crowds started clogging up the exits as they did everytime the lunch period rolls in.

♡ You’re humming around a mouthful of the sweet treat you’d snagged from the days menu when you cross paths with Riddle, and though he doesn’t look too chuffed about you eating food outside of the appropriate dining hall he doesn’t call you out on it. You two fall into stride retreating down the hallway from where you’d first entered; it seems that you’re both heading towards the same area and you don’t mind the company so it suits you just fine to spend a little time with the dorm leader before going your respective ways for the next class. The peace doesn’t last for very long - soon enough the rest of the classes are being let out, and you’re suddenly reminded of why you were rushing to get away from the dining hall in the first place.

♡ All you see is the dinner rush crowd making a mad dash to the cafeteria and you act without thinking. You just know that Riddle would step in to enforce at least some kind of order to the pandemonium, but even if he could scare the crowd into stopping they’re still going to barge right over the two of you at this rate, and you’d rather avoid having the ghosts scraping either one of you off of the hallway floor. You’d much rather suffer through getting reamed out by Riddle for the stunt you’re about to pull than getting trampled by a stampede of students with no sense of personal space. When you mutter a quick “sorry!” Riddle gives you a confused look, which turns baffled when you toss your snack for him to catch in order to free up your hands (he catches it, thankfully - you don’t wanna make the journey back to buy a new one.)

♡ It’s a swift motion - all Riddle feels is your hands grabbing hold of him and suddenly the world is spinning and he finds himself pulled right up into your arms as you race back the way you’d come. His shout falls deaf on your ears in favor of the curses you’re chanting under your breath as you run, shifting the dorm leader around in your arms till you find a good enough position that he’s not going to fall out of your hold as you pick up your pace.

♡ You’re fast, and strong enough that carrying Riddle is no chore at all - you could probably do this under normal circumstances with no problem, not that you’d probably get the chance to after this. That little fact can be stewed over later, you decide, instead focusing on finding a place to get out of the way of the crowds. It isn’t long before you find an open classroom, and no sooner have you skidded through the doorway do you watch the student horde race past, completely oblivious to the pair of you. You let out a breathy laugh, more than a little relieved as you lean up against the doorframe and finally cast your gaze down to the boy in your arms.

♡ Yep, you were right about the priceless expression.

♡ Okay, so maybe the sudden grab and dash had left the dorm leader looking a little more...disheveled than usual, if the popped collar and skewed strands of hair from where his head had been pressed against your chest are any indication. You’re guessing that he’s still reeling from the fact that you’ve hoisted him up and carried him away like a princess as though he weighs nothing, because he doesn’t immediately start chewing you out about your little escape. His face is beginning to flush though, reaching the midpoint between pink and that signature red that’s close enough to match his hair; you certainly don’t make things any better when you move him around in your arms again, lifting him up a little more as your head ducks down.

♡ Riddle bristles, stuttering whatever planned retort he’d had only to freeze when he realizes you’re leaning towards the snack he’s managed to hold onto as you’d run. Your teeth snag its corner and you let out a triumphant “ha!” that’s muffled as you ease back up to finish off your self-proclaimed reward. It’s at that moment a soft cough turns both of your attention to the rest of the classroom, where several loitering students give the pair of you curious looks at the display. That finally kicks things back into gear, and you narrowly avoid dropping Riddle with how hard he wriggles out of your grip, working quickly to act as though the whole thing never happened which earns him an amused snort as you resolve to finish off your snack whilst he fixes his collar.

Leona

♡ Food has become a very effective bargaining chip when it comes to bets with your fellow students. You’re pretty sure placing monetary bets would get you in trouble if you were caught by one of the staff (especially Crewel, you don’t think anyone can handle his punishments more than once), and with all the maintenance going into your dorm betting money just isn’t an option you’re interested in. Food on the other hand is always in the ballpark, and with the limited edition dishes that pop onto the cafeteria menu throughout the year, alongside some of the phenomenal cooks amongst the student body, there’s no shortage of food bribes to use as a motive to get things done.

♡ Your strength has come into play on more than one occasion, because it either leads to people trying to call a bluff and wanting you to prove yourself, or they wanna see just how strong you are. You certainly don’t mind thanks to the little rewards your feats manage to net you, plus it makes for an interesting point of conversation when you’re bored. It’s boredom that leads to the following conversation with Cater during break - being outside the only real entertainment is walking around, talking to other students that cross your path, or just lounging around till the break’s over.

♡ You’d been walking around with Cater for a while before the appeal of watching the scenery faded and you elected to find some place to sit. You’re leaning against his shoulder watching him text and swipe through his pictures to pass the time; soon enough an image of you shows up and you snort at the picture of you holding up Deuce by his legs. It was taken a while ago, and the telltale shit eating grin on your face is a testament of how amusing the whole situation had been; seeing it now sparks up the same conversation you’d had at the time - can you really pick up anyone with no problem?

♡ Eager to jump at the opportunity for entertainment, the two of you turn your eyes across the field, where Cater takes to pointing people out. Epel? Easy, but wouldn’t be too happy about it. Kalim? You’ve done it before and it went pretty well minus the fact that his enthusiasm made him damn near slip out of your arms. You answer yes to most of the people he points out to you, until his gaze lands on someone lounging under the treeline and he points them out to you. Following his line of sight, you catch sight of Leona and the two of you share a look as you huff and say that yeah, of course you could pick that big lug up!

♡ Cater asking you to actually prove it wasn’t what you expected, and you give him a doubtful glance trying to gauge if he’s joking or not. Turns out he’s not, and at your hesitation he offers a bribe to convince you, and at the mention of one of Trey’s signature tarts you visibly perk up. He doesn’t even have to pull out the treat from his bag before you’re up onto your feet and jogging right over to the treeline, shooting him a confident grin over your shoulder as you approach the sleeping lion.

♡ To be honest, you probably would have tried this at some point anyway, but Trey’s tarts are a hell of an incentive to do it right now, and it’s the driving force that steels your resolve as you approach him. You know that he notices you - you’re not exactly quiet, and while he doesn’t open his eyes or turn to look at you his ears twitch in your direction at the sound of your footfalls coming towards him. It’s only when you squat down beside him that he cracks an eye open and lets out an inquisitive grumble asking you what you’re doing.

♡ You only tell him not to worry, but that just makes him more wary given that every time you’ve said that before it’s definitely cause for concern. You end up proving him right to be wary when you shuffle close enough to actually touch him and slot your hands under his back, promptly hefting him up from his once comfortable spot beneath the shade and into your arms.

♡ Leona jolts in response and you narrowly avoid an elbow to the ribs at how he squirms about at the sudden position change; his ears are pressed flat against his head and he squares you with a scathing look as he orders you to put him back down, calling you a brat for good measure. You only huff at the dorm leader and strengthen your hold on him, making sure to keep one hand safely cradling his back as you spin around to show Cater your latest catch. There’s no missing the amusement in Cater’s face as he makes a poor attempt to hide his snicker with one hand as he holds up his phone to snap a picture commemorating the moment.

♡ Seeing the camera you flash a smile and a thumbs up with some careful maneuvering of the man in your arms, quickly returning your hands back to him when he hisses and shifts again. It’s probably not the wisest idea to hold onto him for very long, and you can tell Leona’s none too pleased by suddenly being picked up from the spot he was comfortable in, so you don’t keep him up for very long before you amble back over to the trees, setting him down as gently as you can without accidentally pulling in his tail as you pull away. This time his elbow makes a solid hit against your hip on the way down and you end up dropping him the rest of the way, keeling over with a pained wheeze as the pair of you topple none too gracefully to the ground, devolving into complaints and groans at the turn of events.

Azul

♡ It’s not entirely unheard of for Azul to stay behind in some of the classrooms once classes have concluded. Whilst the Monstro lounge is the ideal location to get things done, sometimes the patrons get too rambunctious for his liking and he prefers a little bit of peace and quiet while he works on the day’s schoolwork. The classrooms are perfect for this as most students are all too eager to filter out and go about their own business, leaving the rooms empty for people to mill in and out of as they please.

♡ He works uninterrupted for the most part, only pulling his attention away from the papers spread out across his desk to look towards the door, hearing the chatter of passing students outside though they only last a brief moment before their voices filter off and disappear as they move away from the classroom. These momentary distractions come and go so the school work is almost completely finished by the time any notable interruptions actually come this way. Unfortunately when they do it almost immediately stops him in his tracks; there’s a slam on the wall leading out to the hallway, and Azul jolts in his seat as he hears something slide up the wall getting higher and higher before it’s finally revealed.

♡ Azul watches Floyd’s head poke up from one of the overhead windows, and that’s enough to get him to pause mid writing as the pair lock eyes. Now, the Leech twins are tall, taller than most of the students in Octavinelle, but there’s no way that he should be visible so it's reasonable to assume that he couldn’t manage the height without the help of a step-ladder. That step-ladder theory goes out of the window when Floyd’s head drifts over to the far side of the window, and the Leech twin flashes his dorm leader a toothy grin and a wave for good measure as he drifts backwards and forwards in a way that looks...off.

♡ It’s bizarre, but not the weirdest thing that Azul’s seen Floyd do so whilst he does marvel at the sight for a moment or two he tries to return back to his work - tries being the key word here. Floyd makes an effort to peer through the glass, calling down to someone as he leans closer towards the window. That leads to the twin nearly slamming his head into the glass and a hand flies up to stop the would-be injury as he looks down out of the window's line of sight.

♡Floyd’s stance totters and momentarily his head ducks out of view as though he’s dropped. That’s enough to get the dorm leader to his feet to finally investigate, and he rises from his desk and works his way over to the door, letting out a sigh as he slides open the door and prepares himself for whatever trouble is going to be on the other side. Sure enough Floyd’s leaning up against the wall, greeting Azul when he steps out into the doorway. Floyd’s not the only one there though - there’s a few miscellaneous students milling around the Octavinelle students, but the main point of interest is the person standing right below Floyd, arms wrapped around his knees and keeping him up in the air as they twirl around to face Azul without even a tremble in their grip.

♡ The grin you offer him is similar to Floyds, brimming with amusement as you move your grip to offer a wave, shifting your weight around so as to not drop the boy in your arms as you do so. The raised brow and inquisitive look only makes you grin wider before a tap on your shoulder brings your attention back to the person you’re holding. Azul watches Floyd motion for you to lower him which you do without issue, and once you do the younger Leech twin leans down to whisper something in your ear. He doesn’t catch what he’s saying, but when two pairs of eyes suddenly square him with a scheming look he knows all too well he takes a cautionary step backwards, folding his arms across his chest.

♡ You drop Floyd the rest of the way and turn your sights on Azul, beginning to approach him with open arms and a deceptively warm smile as you call out his name. Now he knows that you’re up to something, and moves to take another step away when you suddenly dart to close the distance and pull him towards you. There’s no hesitation in the way that you quite literally sweep the dorm leader off of his feet, tucking him close to your chest as your arms move to rest along his back and the crook of his knees - you’re carrying him like a princess, and from the wide grin on your face this was clearly the impromptu plan you’d been given by that mischievous twin.

♡ Azul splutters, completely speechless at how effortlessly you’re able to sweep him off of the floor and into your arms, and he becomes acutely aware of just how many eyes are on him as you cradle him to your body making sure that he doesn’t fall. Your strength is no joke, and you make a small show of it by twirling around, catching his hat in the process when the action causes it to topple off of his head and placing it neatly back on his head by the time you come to a stop. For a second you could almost say he looks pleasantly amused beyond the initial surprise, which only makes it all the more entertaining for you.

♡ But then Floyd steps forward and goes to take him from your arms and Azul’s desperately patting you until you finally relent your grip and allow him to stand back onto his feet. You and Floyd share a conspiratory giggle as you watch Azul straighten his outfit back out and step out of the reach of the both of you, giving the pair of you a wide berth in case you decide to try sweeping him off of his feet again.

Kalim

♡ Your strength makes you perfect for doing heavy lifting tasks when the time calls for it. Moving things from one place to another has been the jobs left for the more physically strong students, so despite your otherwise unassuming appearance you’re usually the first person people come to when there’s any kind of heavy lifting to be done. You’ve been a huge help at events as a result, and more often than not the other students leave the cleanup to you, confident in your abilities to get things back to where they need to go.

♡ This particular cleanup task had taken quite a while, but with some diligent work and a couple snack breaks you and your friends had narrowed down the leftover mess, packing what could fit into the boxes provided so that they’d be easier to transport. When the inevitable question of which people were going to take what came up you were quick to step in, offering that it’d be no problem at all for you to handle this yourself - it was late anyways, so you’re sure everyone was eager to get back to their rooms for the night. It took a little convincing, but soon enough you’re left alone with the necessary keys and wishes for good luck with the work.

♡ You’d planned to take care of this task by yourself, reasoning that two or three trips should get the job done. You’d actually finished the first trip and was making your way out with the last couple of boxes when you cross paths with Kalim, who upon recognizing your face peeking out from behind the impromptu cardboard tower all but jumps in to help. Any protests fall on deaf ears, as once Kalim’s decided on something like helping you out he’s not gonna stop until it’s done.

♡ Before long he’s taken about a third of the boxes off of your hands (he tried to bargain for more but you were set on carrying the heavier stuff) and the pair of you are off to get them off to the right destination. Kalim fills the silence with conversation as he leads the way, which given the fact you’re the one who actually knows where storage is, ends up with you having to tug him in the right direction more than once before he charges down a wrong corridor. Despite that though the two of you make good progress, and you end up getting there faster than the initial first trip, and within a few minutes you’re nearing the storage room, albeit from a different direction than last time.

♡ You’re shifting about the boxes in your arms to fish through your pocket for the storage room keys with your free hand when you realize you’re getting close. Kalim skips ahead of you as you rummage for the keys, giving you an easygoing smile over his shoulder urging you to catch up. You feign a sigh of exasperation but move to pick up your pace which only prompts Kalim to charge on ahead aiming to get to the door first, still with that easy-going smile.

♡ That smile disappears in an instant however, as when you next blink, Kalim disappears from your field of vision and your heart drops at the sound of something scattering across the floor. Ditching your effort to find the keys, you race to catch up, stopping just short at the top of the stairs and looking down to where Kalim’s sat at the bottom, shaking off the dizziness from the fall. It’s fortunately only a few steps but you still rush to close the distance, hastily placing your bags onto the floor as you kneel down beside the dorm leader to check if he’s alright.

♡ Upon seeing your concern Kalim grins and makes a point to tell you that he’s fine, hoping to ease your worries. This time the sigh you let out is one of relief and you rise back to your feet, offering out your hand to pull him up with a playful jab to watch where he’s going next time. Kalim laughs and takes your hand, but the moment he gets to his feet he yelps and leans to one side, easing up off of one foot. He must have hurt it in the fall and your expression drops watching his smile falter, brows creasing in clear discomfort.

♡ Kalim’s still reassuring you he’s fine despite the fact that he’s visibly doing his best to put as little weight on his one foot as possible. You aren’t convinced in the slightest, and after a few seconds of him talking you’ve had enough; he doesn’t notice you nodding to yourself as you roll up your sleeves, but he does catch your mutter of “Don’t worry - I’ve got this.” as you step forward and place a hand on his back.

♡ You move carefully so as to not agitate the leg more than you have to, tucking your free hand under his knees and easing him off of his feet until you’re carrying his full weight, keeping him upright like it’s nothing at all. Kalim, for what it’s worth, is captivated by the strength, but he’s more focused on asking if you’re really okay with carrying him - he’s fine, he swears! (he’s not). Paying no heed to that, you nudge the boxes over to the side of the hallway with your legs, leaving them in a messy but contained pile to avoid anyone tripping on them while you’re gone. They can be sorted later, is your excuse as you start walking - he’s going straight to the infirmary, and then back to his dorm, the boxes can wait a little longer.

♡ He squirms a bit, but that’s only so that he can wrap his arms around your neck, bringing his head close to your shoulder. Kalim knows that he’s not gonna convince you otherwise, so why not enjoy the ride while it lasts? Besides, it’s nice to feel weightless sometimes! And he’s so sincere when he gushes about how strong you are that you can’t help but preen under the compliments, boasting a little about how you’ll have to properly show off just how strong you are. Some other time though, because as nice as pleasant as it is carrying the dorm leader around, you can do that just as easily once he’s been seen by the school nurse.

Vil

♡ You may not look like you’re that strong but looks can be deceiving. You’re more built than a lot of people realize - sure, it may not look like that to others, but these uniforms do a damn better job of hiding your strength than one might think. Friends and those who have seen it for themselves know that you’re strong, and Vil is one of them; you make no show of hiding that fact, because why would you? It’s something you’re proud of, and you use it to your advantage whenever the chance calls for it, and Vil’s not one to stop you from doing so.

♡ You also don’t shy away from challenges either, if anything they’re one of your weaknesses. Confident in your strength, any time someone questions it you’re eager to jump right in and prove them otherwise. Usually they’re arguments you’ve heard a hundred times before, the same old story as far as you’re concerned, that doesn’t mean the comments don’t tick you off though. Scrawny scrapper this, all bark and no bite that, it gets on your nerves that just because you don’t look that strong they immediately assume that you’re just weak.

♡ It’s a sore topic, and as such Vil can usually pinpoint the trouble that brews as a result of such challenges because of the way you react to such jeers. He’s attempted to ease your anger about it in the past, or at least told you to go easy on said challengers lest you get sent to Crewel’s office again, and for what it’s worth you’ve made fair progress in brushing off most comments.

♡ This time it appears that brushing them off isn’t quite so easy. Your voice can be heard even before you storm into the main hall accompanied by another student, and your planned curse filters off into a hiss to just leave it when you catch sight of Vil out of the corner of your eye. The student however doesn’t let up, and the dorm head soon catches wind of what this is about when he hears “Strong? Seriously? Pff, do you even have any muscles?” Vil can see the way your lip curls back into a snarl, and he turns his full attention to the scene just waiting for the inevitable show of strength you’re about to pull off. You do this every time without fail, and it’s only proven when you snap.

♡ “Oh yeah? Well, do you think someone without muscles can do this?” Vil’s halfway through taking stock of all of the items not bolted to the floor when you spin around and stride over to him, the confident shout of “Vil!” being one of the few warnings that he gets before you’re standing before him and wrapping your arms around him. It’s quick and smoother than he thought it’d be, and were this not the first time you’ve attempted this trick on him Vil could swear you’ve practised this before. Granted, you stumble a little near the end, but that’s more so because you overestimated the swoop of pulling him up into your arms and knocked your hip into a table in the process. Besides that it’s an otherwise practised landing, and suddenly Vil finds himself swept up into a bridal carry by a pair of surprisingly firm arms.

♡ You spin back around, triumphant grin on your face as you heft Vil up even higher, like a child proudly showing off their prize to anyone watching. True, you’re strong, and there’s not a moment that Vil feels like he’s going to fall out of your arms when you’re holding him, but the lack of warning and the abruptness of being hoisted up as though he weighs nothing more than a bag of feathers makes for a jarring situation. Your shout of “Ha! Believe me now?” doesn’t make the situation much better, and Vil has to rub his temples to stop the incoming stress lines at the amount of eyes you’ve drawn to your little display in the process of your shouting.

♡ Whatever challenge had been posed seems to have been sated by your show of strength, as the student throws up their hands in a mock-surrender as they concede, shrugging off the surprise that Vil can see clear as day on their faces. Clearly, they weren’t expecting you to be so brazen about showing off, but you’ve never been one to clam up when there’s a point to be made.

♡ Satisfied, you let out a huff and drop down onto one of the nearby chairs, shaking your head as you grumble “Can you believe that guy? Teach him not to doubt me next time.” It seems you’ve neglected to remember exactly who you picked up, and Vil’s swift to remind you with a soft cough to direct your attention back towards him. You look down at the dorm leader still firmly settled in your arms, lips pursing as you exhale a breath to mask your obvious realization upon meeting eyes with him.

♡ Muttering an apology, you gradually release your grip, giving him ample time to rise back to his feet and you let out a nervous chuckle when he folds his arms across his chest and gives you a stern gaze. Thankfully you’re let off with a chide of giving someone a warning the next time you decide to pick them up, but he doesn’t miss your grin as you parrot back “Next time?”

Idia

♡ Idia had gotten hurt. Those are the only words you needed to hear before you dropped everything and raced over to his bedroom, already thinking of the worst case scenarios. I mean, for a guy who spends the majority of time in his room there’s only so many ways he can get hurt, and none of them are a pleasing thought so you do your best to quash the thoughts till you actually get there to see him for yourself.

♡ When you first step inside his room nothing’s out of the ordinary, as far as you’re aware nothing’s been destroyed and besides the usual controlled chaos everything seems to have been moved out of place. Idia’s even sat at his computer chair which isn’t an unusual sight, though as you get closer you realize he’s got one of his legs pulled up against his chest, hands cradling his foot with a sour expression that morphs into discomfort each time he makes a move to roll the appendage to one side. That sour look doesn’t dissipate when he notices you, but he does jump a bit when you announce your presence by rounding the chair and leaning onto the one arm, leaning down as you ask what happened.

♡ You’ve gathered that he’s hurt his foot, you just don’t know how and as he hunches over even more in his chair you perk up, noting his reluctance. He doesn’t tell you, not at first, but with a bit of prodding he eventually caves that maybe he kind of accidentally got his feet tangled up in the wires under his gaming desk and got yanked right out of his chair when he’d finally pushed himself away from his computer. He hadn’t thought anything of it (besides the obvious embarrassment of getting tripped up in the first place) but the moment he’d tried to stand up it was clear that something had rolled the wrong way, which is precisely what led to him huddled up in his chair glaring daggers at the injured foot as though that’s going to magically fix the injury sustained.

♡ Admittedly, the image of the whole scenario would have made you laugh, but for the sake of your friend (and the fact that he glowers at you when your lip trembles trying to fight back a chuckle) you don’t, instead giving the simmering dorm leader a comforting pat on the shoulder reassuring him that he’ll be fine. Chances are it’s just sore from landing the wrong way - you’ll know for sure once he gets seen by the nurse.

♡ However, when you tell him that he hunkers down, insisting that he’s not budging; it’ll be fine if he just sleeps it off, is his argument, adding that it’s not like he can go anywhere since he’d rather stay put - what’s he gonna do, hop the whole way to the infirmary? Obviously not.

♡ You frown at his stubbornness, but give a determined huff as you hop off of the arm of the chair with a “fine.”. Idia’s surprised that you’re not fighting his decision more, but that surprise lasts but a moment until you lean down and promptly pluck the dorm leader right out of his seat. He just about chokes on his words and twists about in your arms, but you don’t even bat an eye at it as you shift him around until you’re cradling him close to your chest, eventually just settling on a princess carry for the sake of simplicity.

♡ When Idia cries out, asking what you’re doing, you merely shrug and offer “Since you can’t walk, I’ll carry you.” as your explanation. He balks at the notion, but doesn’t really have a leg to stand on when you pull him even closer to you, holding firm to make sure he doesn’t fall.

♡ His hair tickles your nose each time he shifts about in your arms, which you promptly pat back down as gently as you can as you move towards the door, nudging it open with your hip until you can slide the pair of you through the gap. You make a point of ignoring his protest of staying put until he finally relents and settles into you, arms folded across his chest as he leans back. His hair frames his face like he’s trying to hide in the thick blue flames, but even you don’t miss the fact that his expression, once twisted in discomfort, eases up into something more comfortable now that the pressure’s off of his injured foot.

Malleus

♡ You’d like to think that you’re pretty strong, stronger than people give you credit for at least. And you also like to think that your strength is appreciated by the people who know about your carefully honed skill. Lilia is one such person, as he seems to be particularly amused by just how easily you’re able to heft and move things about, be it both objects and people. He’s especially entertained when it’s people, and it’s because of your penchant for carrying people around to show off that you end up with the third-year student bundled up in your arms as you travel through the Diasomnia dorm.

♡ The only indication the others have of the event is when you promptly come striding into the room, arms wrapped around Lilia's waist and hoisting him effortlessly up into the air as you enter. Malleus looks up from what he’s doing to watch the curious display, and upon spotting the fae you shift Lilia's weight to release one hand and wave, grinning as you swivel around and begin moving towards his direction. You’re keeping the Diasomnia student upright with ease, showing no signs of fatigue or strain as you carry him around, coming to stand behind the sofa that Malleus is sitting on and leaning over with a nonchalant question about what he’s doing.

♡ Malleus raises a brow, unsure whether to answer you or ask what exactly you’re doing with Lilia first. Before he can decide however Lilia gives you a gentle nudge to be let down and you take the hint, proceeding to lean over the sofa and drop him none-too-gently onto the seat beside Malleus. The cushions bounce when he lands on them, and though disheveled from all the carrying and the drop, Lilia looks thoroughly entertained by the whole ordeal,

♡ You catch Malleus glancing between you and Lilia, and though you couldn’t hazard a guess as to what he’s thinking you lean forward and chuckle, jokingly asking “Want me to try you next?” as you rest your arms on the back of the sofa. The smile on your face falters a little when you don’t immediately get a response, locking eyes with him for a few seconds too long. When he nods you have to fight every muscle in your face not to look surprised, and you don’t trust your voice to get the words out in response, instead returning the gesture with a blank nod of your own.

♡ The last thing you expected was for him to agree, but you’re never one to back down from a challenge and soon enough you’re standing face to face with the dragon prince once he stands up and rounds the sofa so that you’re standing in front of each other. You’re doing the mental maths in your head as you size up the dorm head. It’s not picking him up that’s gonna be a problem - you’re pretty sure the Leech twins weigh more than him and you’ve been able to carry both at the same time once before (when Floyd wasn’t intentionally wriggling around in your arms that is.) It’s figuring out the best way to carry him that’s the problem; you’re not sure a fireman carry would be the most dignified look for the dorm head, and just giving him a piggyback probably wouldn’t be too effective if you want to avoid knocking his head against something while you’re running around.

♡ It takes a moment but you don’t leave Malleus standing there for very long before you take a step forward, moving to place a hand on his back while reiterating if it’s okay for you to still do this. The noise of confirmation steels your resolve and in the next moment you quite literally sweep Malleus off of his feet and into the air, landing safely in your arms; he lets out a sharp inhale at the sudden action, but is more surprised at the fact that you’re able to carry him with such ease, even flashing him a confident grin as you begin to sidle around the room, making sure that he remains firmly tucked in your arms as you do so.

♡ The experience is interesting, to say the least - Malleus isn’t uncomfortable, if anything it’s actually rather nice to feel so weightless in someone’s arms. Not to mention it’s not something Malleus has been able to recently experience, so . You on the other hand are having a great time with it; you get used to carrying him quickly, and despite the initial worry of getting stabbed in the face with his horns you realize there’s nothing to worry about - it’s going pretty well.

♡ That is until Sebek enters the room and spots you cradling the young lord in your arms, and he shouts loud enough that you all whip around to face him. You’re undeterred by the shout, if anything you just assume that the first year wants a turn so you gently place Malleus back onto his feet, giving his uniform a cursory once over to make sure he’s okay before you back away. Malleus gives you an inquisitive look, watching you as you skip away, racing over to where Sebek’s standing with arms outstretched ready to scoop him into your arms, laughing when the student all but dives out of your reach the moment you approach him.

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waheelawhisperer · 2 years ago

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Heinously belated thanks for that 'sensei dragon dad's lectures seem misaimed' breakdown. While the narrative will obviously never circle back to it, I fail to see how the strategy Yang whipped up to stop Adam really maps with any of that 'don't fall back on your semblance. Also never ever take a hit you can help, getting clipped means you're Not Dodging Enough' talk. If anything, tanking Bull Boy's shit right up to the point of aura loss seems to flat out circular-file Tai's main talking point.

Yeah, I think the narrative is pretty much done with that specific bit of Tai's advice, outside of maybe some short scene where Tai says something like "You're fighting a lot smarter now, you've really improved, I'm so proud of you" or whatever. Maybe he'll mentor Yang more in the future, who knows, but I think the book closed pretty firmly on this particular storyline once the Adam fight was over with. We get a pretty self-contained arc here with a natural conclusion: Tai gives his advice, we see Yang start to put it into practice with both her fights and interpersonal dealings in Volume 5, and then it culminates in Volume 6 with her defeat of an opponent she'd previously lost to. There's not really anywhere else left for this storyline to go at this point without weakening its impact or taking resources away from other important beats, at least in my opinion. Not gonna pretend I'm a huge fan of this whole thing, but I get what the writers were going for and I think they've accomplished it well enough that I got the message.

I don't think Tai's advice ever meant that Yang should never come into contact with an opponent unless she's striking them. Blocking is an integral part of many martial arts. Boxing is one of those, and boxing/kickboxing is the basis of Yang's style. We know Tai trained her from Ruby's line in Volume 3, Episode 1 and the fact that he's the one working with her in Volume 4, and also because Tai mentoring Yang is a nice parallel to Qrow training Ruby. He wouldn't have taught her a style where blocking and parrying were so important if he thought dodging was the only defensive option to use ever.

That said, Tai's fighting style is based on Jeet Kune Do, and Jeet Kune Do utilizes a principle known as the "stop hit", wherein the practitioner intercepts an opponent's attack with one of their own. This is an incredibly difficult defensive technique to master and I think it's what Tai is trying to get Yang to accomplish, though I can't be sure without knowing how well the writers understand martial arts and the philosophies behind them.

Generally, blocking is the "worst" defense in martial arts because it uses more energy and carries the highest risk of injury, while parrying/redirecting an attack uses less energy, is less likely to get you hurt, and is more likely to leave your opponent off balance, and of course dodging means you won't get hurt at all, but blocking is still a vital technique and inherently valuable. The fact that Yang uses it regularly is not a flaw she needs to overcome, it's an integral part of her style and one she applies effectively over and over throughout the series.

The best defense, of course, is a good offense, hence the concept of the stop hit. Many martial arts emphasize this idea, including Jeet Kune Do, and Yang and Qrow both take it to heart, fighting aggressively and doing their best to deny their opponents the opportunity to attack. Qrow's fight with Tyrian in Volume 4 is a great example of this - up until the unarmed combat sequence about halfway through the fight, Qrow is constantly pressuring Tyrian and keeping him on the defensive as much as possible. Based on all this, I don't think Tai's advice was ever meant to convey that "blocking is bad" or that Yang shouldn't use an established and valid defensive technique for its intended purpose, I think he was trying to say that Yang shouldn't deliberately take hits to charge her Semblance (which she doesn't until the Adam fight, she just makes use of any charge she gains incidentally by blocking or just straight-up getting hit by an opponent that breaks through her defenses, but whatever). Honestly, I think that whole scene in Volume 4 was a bit of a mess meant to progress Yang's storyline as quickly as possible so the writers could focus on Ren's backstory instead of a title character who got the short end of the stick for a good four Volumes.

I still think the "don't fall back on your Semblance" part is freaking hilarious because Yang basically did everything Tai didn't want her to do (deliberately took a hit to charge her Semblance, built her plan around using it to finish her opponent off when previously she'd relied more on technique, banked everything on an attack that would've left her screwed if it didn't work, etc.) and it was the right thing to do in that specific instance. Adam was emotionally compromised and thus easy to goad into attacking in a way that left him vulnerable, and Yang took advantage of that in very strategic fashion despite her own pain, anger, fear, and trauma. She's so incredibly strong and I hate the way so many people fail to see that and just think of her as "the dumb one" or "the brute" or "the bitchy one".

I'll never stop laughing at the way Yang basically won that fight by completely disregarding Tai's textual advice despite the narrative clearly wanting us to believe that what Tai said to her was instrumental in her victory, not gonna lie. You're right that what the story wants us to believe and what we actually see during the fight do not map at all, but I don't really think the fact that her Aura breaks at the end of the fight really has anything to do with Tai's advice or the validity thereof. I think it's more that she's facing a very fast and aggressive opponent (many of Adam's attacks come out very quickly and without much telegraphing during that fight) and thus can't be expected to effortlessly dodge every attack. She still dodges effectively (just like she always has...), but blocking is a key aspect of her base fighting style, and in many cases she doesn't have a choice but to block against Adam because blocking is faster and requires less movement than a full-body dodge, so I don't think she's deliberately tanking his hits outside of the setup for her final blow or that this runs counter to Tai's advice. I just think she's facing a highly dangerous opponent and had to pull out everything she had to win.

I'll get to the other asks in my box either after or as part of the post on why Team RWBY was justified in not trusting Ironwood, which should hopefully be coming this weekend, since they touch on subjects that I'll discuss in that post. As always, thanks for reading.

#rwby #analysis #yang xiao long #taiyang xiao long

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aio-rya · 4 years ago

Text

Heartslabyul Kabedon Headcanons

Fem!Reader SO x Heartslabyul

「Requested by: Anon」

Ace ♥️

・You know this boy is a mess. He's always in a rush, not necessarily because of school but to make disaster along Deuce and you; the trouble trio. And finding a way to avoid punishments. That's exactly what's getting on your way for this plan.

・You have tried many, really, many times to do it and each one of them you fail or fall or get caught by Deuce. You must make Ace being quiet and that's an impossible task; until today when he was feeding the flamingoes alone.

・You jumped into him on his way back to the dorm building, clinging onto his tired back, falling over him and pinning him down to the floor. Yeah, you caught him into the less conventional way, somehow the angle you chose was perfect to make him unable to move —almost.

・He could swear he heard the flash of a camera between the sound of your laugh. As you made fun of him, he spotted a weak point in your position and used it to turn positions, holding you against the floor as you stopped laughing to realise he won this round.

・"C'mon, sweetie, keep on laughing", he mocked with a cocky smirk, though you could keep on laughing just by the sight of his pink clothes, you pouted. You started complaining about how hard was to catch him off guard and alone just to fail, not just that, to be humiliated by him!

・Successfully, you made him feel guilty. Even so, he wouldn't move, he will just keep you there and apologise –unfortunately for you, he knew very well how your mind worked and he knew you were not really sad. So, Ace assure it would be very easy for him to catch you off guard now that he used your own move against you.

・He can be a bitch when he wants to, that's why you asked Deuce to send you the pic he took of Ace on his pink clothes with you. Every single time he tries to pin you into a wall, you show him the evidence and blackmail him with that. You'll post it on Magicam if he dare to do that again.

Deuce ♠️

・You expected him to be shy, flushed, quiet, speechless; to get red as a tomato as you mischievously giggled at him and talked about your intentions with a teasing tone even though these were completely innocent. Oh, how wrong you got it! You did it with your best intention, unintentionally awakening his badass mood.

・You didn't even got the chance to make his back touch the wall, you had barely gripped his hands when he escaped from your touch, held your waist and pulled you against his chest, turning around to slam his free arm into the wall. The shocked one were you.

・Well, that doesn't mean he weren't surprised. In fact, he blushed when he realised it was you who tried to attack him from behind. Deucey is not a rough or teasing person, but the way you reacted to your own trick was too much for him, you looked so cute and defenseless. The mischievous was him, smirking at you after the impression.

・His payback was sweeter than you could have imagined, a torture though: thickles. Yeah, he pressed you against the wall and started moving his fingers on your sides ans your stomach, sometimes messing with your neck, but never letting you take a break. Laughter after laughter until some small tears fell from your eyes, he stopped to hug you.

・"Make some noise next time, just your steps or something like that. I don't want to hurt you with my defensive reflexes", he says with soft voice, lending you a handkerchief to dry your eyes and clean your sweat. It was so romantic, you were surprised he was one of those guys. Don't get fooled by his kindness, you still owe him an explanation.

・That's exactly what you do, explain. Yes, some way because you wanted him to know what was the original plan on surprising him all of a sudden. Also, there was the fact that he was not letting you go until he knew the reason why he almost hurted his SO.

・Rest assure. He will keep in mind what you have done today. He's not the kind of person who seeks for revenge, he is actually the kind of person who enjoys learning from others and helping others learn from him. And now, my dear, you are going to learn why is bad teasing on Deuce's bad guy side.

Cater ♦️

・Nice moment you chose to take your phone out for a selfie, Diamond! Your movements were perfect, silent, extremely well planned to be ruined by his phone camera! But, of course, you didn't realise about it and that's why things ended up like this...

・How? You may ask. Well, you're sitting over one of the Light Music Club's stools, leaning your back against the wall as your lover's arms lay at each side of your head, hands on the surface behind you. A huge, pleased smile on his face staring at your blushed self, holding his phone on one of his hands.

・"My, my! How daring of you! Jumping into me from behind~", he laughs melodically, winking at you as cheerful as always. His method for making you talk is just asking. Yeah, easy, right? And you bend. He's just so lovely.

・You confess to him that you waited patiently behind the door until Lilia and Kalim left to surprise you. He has been so busy to visit you, so it was time for you to come to him. He just laughs and agrees with you, it was a nice movement he will definitely keep in mind.

・But you are both cheerful and playful with each other, pranks are never missing in this relationship and this moment deserves its own reminder. The photo he took when you were about to jump into him —let's just say it wasn't your best angle. And it was indeed his payback.

・Ace and Deuce will make fun of you for a long, long time thanks to Cay's post. Specially since he catches your body against the wall every single time you visit his dorm... Without failing.

Trey ♣️

・You over thought about attempting it, there wasn't a chance you could catch him, at least not without a sense of silence and discretion. Your lover was a clever and wary man, every movement must be precise and flawless —in fact, they were. Until you stumbled.

・There wouldn't have been any trouble, unless you have chosen the worst possible location: the kitchen. So, maybe your fall could have been stopped by the imminent weight of Trey's body on the wall helping you to trap him perfectly between your arms but now, he was holding you since you tried to pin him into the kitchen's bar. You felt even smaller.

・"Are you all right?", he will ask with concern. Your affirmative answer relieves him, slowly letting you go until he realise you are not supposed to be in his dorm, or in the kitchen. His grip around you strengthen as he "gently" ask what brought you there; he knows you as well as you know him, there's no way you could lie to get out of this. He discovered immediately you were planning something.

・The interrogation was not completely necessary, Trey's eyes had that power of persuasion which made you speak immediately. Yes, you could try resisting but it would not be a very smart alternative; so, when he took his glasses away and placed them behind you, there was nothing to do on it. You started explaining the situation, giving him and advantage since now you were the one between his arms.

・Oh, no. You are being pressed against the fridge door now without any option than looking back at him, that was a dirty move of him, wasn't it ? He has now another good reason for scolding you, not only the place but the true intention behind your deeds. With a deep breath and severe voice, he asks for an excuse for not applying any punishment on you.

・You beg to him not to forbid you of entering to that room of the Dorm, he knows how much you love baking with him on your free time, or helping him with the food for Unbirthday Parties. He could not be so evil with you, less when you use that puppy eyes of yours, a weakness he have always had on you.

・He seems to forgive you, becoming insistent about giving you a farewell kiss. It's not like him to be that insistent on affectionate greetings but you give in... Just to get an awful, still hilarious surprise: he used his Doodle Suit on you to change the taste of the kiss into the food you hate the most. Sweet revenge.

Riddle ♔

・His immediate reaction would be flushing. An intense crimson staining his face as he was looking for an answer inside his memory, searching over the 810 Rules of the Queen of Hearts in vain since none of them stated how to react when your lover trapped you over a wall.

・To be honest, you though you have broken him. He just stared into the void as you blushed in front of him, retracting your arms to set him free. Did you scare him that much with your sudden action? Well, not really since he held your arms before you could separate from him. A smirk slowly appearing on his face.

・You didn't even realise when he made you give an elegant turn so now you were at his mercy. Still, the blush remained on his skin as he found your actions lovely, but now he was delighted with your confused expression as your move resulted against you.

・He lifted his head, watching from above, leaning over you dangerously near to your lips, passing off them to whisper in your ear. "Where you trying to misbehave, my beloved rose?", he ask with a teasing tone as he pronounced your nickname. "You know my beliefs about breaking the rules", he continues, placing his finger under your chin and his hand behind your back to make you straighten and avoiding you looking away.

・For a second, just a second, you are truly intimidated. He's always a gentleman, though he loves games and that was the reason why you did this in first place —you're aware that he was teasing you. From one second to another, you giggled and your eyes softened, throwing your arms into his neck, burying your face into his coat to silence your laughter.

・Well, you knew he had been busy and worried so you tried to surprise him. In the end, you made him get a bit relaxed, he followed your game as you tried to turn places, he kept refusing to let you go. The fun of the moment relied on how you managed to make him laugh.

・"It's off with your head, darling", he laughs in a mischievous tone, caressing your cheek before walking away. Oh, no, he was planning his payback. Yes, he would never "chop" off your head, as a couple, that sentence was part of your intimate code and you knew that meant... You had to be careful and watch your back. Riddle will pin you into the wall when you less expected so and he won't be "gentle".

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