#maybe i should stop pushing myself to do things every day
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
part of me really loves having friends and being in a community, and the other part feels exhausted from interacting with people and wants to ghost everyone and move cities
#maybe i should stop pushing myself to do things every day#also maybe things will feel better as the seasons change#i always have a really hard time over the summer#anyways :)#it's also probably from going from having 0 friends and not interacting with people for several years straight#and immediately going to having dozens of people knowing me and talking to me and asking for help with things because i know what im doing#i love them i love being able to do things and i am drained and exhausted#my work trips really cannot come soon enough#i thought some more about it#the part that's actually stressing me out is people from highschool reappearing in my life against my will#not just into my life in general#but the specific part that i have curated to myself and built community in#i stopped talking to people from highschool for a reason#there's literally only one person I'm in contact with and she went to a different school (i love her she's wonderful and im so proud of her)#it's not even anything bad it's just really weird and uncomfortable for me and part of my brain just wants to cease to exist
3 notes
¡
View notes
Text
siiiiiiigh
#i am in fact a grown adult who is still incapable of talking about their feelings and thoughts to people so I'll just rant here#my relationship with my mother is. so weird. it's not always bad but it always ends up bad for one reason or another#she can be perfectly civil and i'll still be irritated. other times i do try to tolerate it and engage and she ends up saying something#upsetting to me either way.#i don't want to keep being rude to her i don't want to get mad and annoyed all the time but i just can't stop. it's always like this#and i hate myself for it and i hate her and i hate everything about it#today i was leaving for work and she was like. i'll take the trash out of your room and i told her not to do it. she kept insisting and i#had to raise my voice at her to maybe get the point across to get her not to touch anything#and yes my room is a fucking mess and it is something to be embarrassed of. i just feel so fucking tired all time time and i keep tellin#myself that i will clean it this time for sure and then i don't. most of the time it's my mother taking care of it without my permission#and i am grateful for it bc nobody likes living in a mess... but i also fucking hate it because it makes me feel even more worthless#i just can't get rid of the feeling of shame. no matter what i do.#and back to the mother thing. i told her that if she touches anything i will go to her room and throw out anything that isn't nailed down#even though objectively i have no reason to oppose her helping me#but i also fucking hate it#maybe being rude is the only way to get it across. but also i get irritated about anything so easily#i feel shittier and shittier every day. had there been an easy and painless way of killing myself i would have done it already#and despite how much i want to blame this on a disorder or lack of access to medication. there is no magic pill that would fix me is there#i'm just a shitty person who cannot get it together despite everything being handed to me#i'm literally bad at anything and everything. i'm not even a good blogger lmao#people have it much worse in life and still do better. me? i'm useless. there's no helping it. i should have died from covid or something#nobody will save me. nobody cares enough. besides one person whom i push away because i can't stand her and i don't even know why đ#if i stop messaging people first most of them would forget about me#i am alone. a lonely person in a messy room desperately trying to be entertaining so someone will pay a little bit of attention to me.#not to mention the geopolitics#i won't even go there. i hate the possibility that people might see it mentioned and give me shit for it#one more thing that is apparently my fault. directly or indirectly#all i want is to leave this country. spend the day with someone who cares for me like an actual friend. and then shoot myself so i don't#have to go back#sealene.txt
5 notes
¡
View notes
Text
I kind of want to do a temperature blanket, but I don't care about the temperature, so I'm trying to think of something along the same format that's not as boring as temperature. I'm thinking maybe moon phases? I considered sunrise and sunset time, but it would require a lot of yarn and I'm not sure exactly how I would format it. Any ideas?
#i love knitting. its very calming#and i can do other things like listen to podcasts or music or watch a show while i do it#(it kills my hands because i was stupid when i first started knitting but we dont talk about that)#if you knit please don't push yourself too hard. take breaks. stretch your hands every few rows#ive made two blankets and a scarf and right now im working on a boanket for myself#the two blankets were for my best friend and my sibling. the scarf was for my girlfriend#now im working on a blanket thats just for me#because i realized i should probably stop or really limit my knitting after this#i really fucked up my hands tbh and i like using sign language and playing instruments so i dont want to make them worse#but a blanket like a temperature blanket is only one or two rows per day#its nice and limited knitting so i think i can manage that#but i dont know what to do!#i really do like the idea of moon phases because i love the moon :)#but im not sure. and id like a couple more ideas#my gf recommended tv show genres because im always watching a tv show#but rn im watching two game shows and a crime drama#maybe podcast genres? i love listening to podcasts because im alone so much at my job#and i usually dont listen to more than one at once#oh thats a cool idea#anyway lmk if you have any other ideas#love yall bye
2 notes
¡
View notes
Text
(y/n) gifting Geto sweets against the bad taste of curses
Pairing: Geto x reader
Word Count: 1,1k
Synopsis: Being used to the fact that nobody seems to care about how awful curses taste, Suguru Geto is absolutely blown away when you start noticing and bringing him candy after each and every mission.
Warnings: (y/n) has a really bubbly personality in this, pure fluff and no Geto going berserk
Thank you anon for your cute request đ¤
âOh, there you are! I searched everywhere for you!â, you shout cheerfully, your steps hollering down the dark alley.
Suguru would recognize that oh so sweet voice out of a million, his heartbeat picking up in an instant. Itâs you. Youâre really here.
âWhat are you doing here, (y/n)?â, he questions softly.
âWell, I donât know. I had to steal myself away since Yaga-sensei strictly forbid me to run after you again while youâre on a mission. He said something about getting hurt or killedâŚBut that doesnât stop me! I brought you something salty to eat!â, you announce proudly, stretching out your hand with a little package inside it.
âDid you really come all the way here just to give me that? You donât have to gift me something to eat. And on top, you donât need to get yourself in danger for something unimportant like that.â
âOh, but itâs not unimportant! After all, swallowing those curses doesnât taste good, right?â
His gaze meets yours. Suguru never talked with anyone about the breath-taking disgusting taste these things left in his mouth for hours, how it takes all his strength to not throw them back up in an instant. After all, no one ever asked him about this. It seems like it has always been enough that he was able to absorb them for everyone else.
âWhy would you think that?â
But howâŚhow on earth do you know? Even though Suguru talks with you a lot about everything and everyone, he never talked about this with you. Hell, not even with Satoru.
âThat face you make afterwards, scrunching your eyes just the tiniest bit while pressing your lips together. And I mean, what would curses taste like? Certainly not like sugar and candy, right? And I guess itâs like garlic: youâll have the taste in your mouth for hours! But at least garlic tastes good when used right. Man, I really want some garlic noodles right now⌠Are you in the mood to grab something to eat? I know youâre quite busy, but-â
Suguru canât help but stare at you, the foul taste left on his tongue pushed into the background. You with your bubbly personality made of pure gold. You, who came all the way here just to give him something to eat. You, the only person walking on this earth who ever took the time to think about how it must feel to swallow a curse.
Just you.
âItâs like eating a vomit-soaked rag. Thatâs what they taste like.â
Your doe eyes dart towards him, reflecting nothing but compassion. Before he is able to think straight youâre standing right in front of him, hand pressing the little package into his much larger one.
âNo one should have to taste something like this on a regular basis. But maybeâŚOh, I have an idea! Letâs make a pact.â
âA pact?â, he repeats in disbelief.
What are you up to? And why is your smile suddenly as bright as the sun?
âA pact! I promise to always have something to eat for you when you tell me about your missions in exchange!â, you announce proudly.
âThis doesnât seem fair to me at all. You donât have to follow after me just to give me something nice to eat.â
It seems so crazy, almost unbelievable to him that another human being would be willing to sacrifice its precious time for him. Donât you understand that this promise would mean traveling after him every day and night multiple times? Donât you understand that you are too good for that? Especially you, the ray of sunshine at Jujutsu High. You, the girl everyone talks about, the girl that even Nanami secretly adores. Why would someone like you take special care of him?
âWhat isnât fair is that you have to go through something like this every single time. I really admire you, Suguru. Just the smell of something disgusting makes me gag. Just thinking about eating something that tastes so horrible multiple times a dayâŚYou really are a hero! And every hero deserves some sweets! Oh waitâŚAre you actually into sweets? I can bring you something salty as well.â
âSatoru prefers sweets-â
âBut Iâm not asking about Satoruâ, you interrupt him immediately.
âIâm asking about you.â
He isnât able to respond. No, Suguru is absolutely captivated by your kind smile and the way you still hold onto his hand, the package in his palm feeling sweaty just by one look into your innocent eyes.
YouâŚyou really noticed. And not only that, you really do care about him.
âGo ahead, take a bite! I wonder what you think. I was never really a fan of salty snacks, but these ones are really goodâ, you explain all too excited.
Hesitantly, he rips open the package and allows himself to get a taste. Oh, this feels like heaven on earth, the saltiness of what seems like crackers hunting away the stinging taste of vomit in his mouth. But what intrigues him the most is you. How you stand in front of him, swaying back and forth in excitement while your eyes follow every move of his mouth, literally glowing in joy.
âThese are really goodâ, he finally confesses.
âThank you, (y/n). Now everything just tastes good.â
And so it did every following mission. Instead of feeling disgusted by only the sight of a curse, Suguru somehow feelâŚexcitement. Excitement because swallowing a curse means meeting you afterwards. Excitement because heâll get to taste a new sort of candy or sweets almost every single day. Excitement because slowly but surely, he fell head over heels for your striking sight.
âThose are a speciality around here! I heard some of the others talk about that shop yesterday and thought you might want to try it as well.â
The candy melts on his tongue right away, making him wonder what you taste like while your pretty mouth happily keeps on telling him everything about that shop. It is so easy to get lost in your sight, lost in your talking, last in your personality.
â(y/n).â
He takes a step forward, putting the other piece of candy you handed him over in his pocket. Your eyes widen in the most delicate way, cheeks turning rosy just by one glimpse into the chocolate brown ocean of his eyes.
You always loved the taste of sweets on your tongue, how your nerves began to tingle just the slightest bit. But in this moment, you realized that tasting Suguru Geto was way better than that. He wraps his arms around you gently, pressing his lips against yours ever so slightly. You feel like fainting, flying, giggling. What a precious man he is, how long you imagined how it must feel to kiss your secret crush. But oh, the reality is so much better.
âI love you more than any candy on this planet.â
Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @itsmonicabc
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk scenarios#jjk fluff#geto suguru#jjk getou#jjk geto#geto x reader#jujutsu geto#geto x you#geto x y/n#geto x female reader#getou suguru x reader#suguru geto#suguru x reader#suguru x you#geto#suguru x y/n#jujutsu kaisen shibuya arc#shibuya#jjk shibuya incident#jjk comfort#jjk season 2#jjk season two
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Diet Diaries
Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam
Monday March 21st-
Andy:
I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I donât care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldnât get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I donât know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly Iâm just hoping if he ate more like me heâll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just canât go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! Iâm sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~
Steve:
Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now Iâve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve donât lose tho. Lil twinkâs gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass Iâm gonna make him match my macros if Iâve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! Iâve gotta make Andy give up. Iâm gonna go so hard on him heâll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then heâll stop bitching any time I donât fucking shower every time I get back home.Â
Tuesday March 22nd-
Andy:
My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I donât know how anyone could consistently eat as much as heâs telling me to. Iâm so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, Iâm sure he doesnât eat like this. Heâs just trying to break me but Iâm not going to let him win this easy.
Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didnât think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and Iâm not even exercising. I will say that now that Iâm eating so much, I donât hate the idea of going to the gym. Itâs been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe Iâll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~
Steve:
Fuck! I am so tired of Andyâs pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didnât even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. Iâm abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckinâ bitch-ass salads and oats.
Eatinâ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. Iâll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so heâll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. Iâll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.
Wednesday March 23rd-
Andrew:
Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than Iâve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I donât know but Iâm so excited! Itâs like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those âbrosâ say~ I hope heâs got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! Iâm a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though Iâm ready to go! Hope we have some fun!
Steven:
That bitchâs fuckinâ fru fru salads are ruining my PRâs for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when Iâm so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with him even if Iâm not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasnât even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like heâs been doing it his whole life! Itâs like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but heâs just I just need this fuckinâ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldnât hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.
Thursday March 24th-
Andrew:Â
Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Stevenâs diet is absolutely killer! I donât know how itâs working so well but man I couldnât care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Stevenâs face that I was acing it! I guess Iâll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, itâs not like Iâm any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y���know? Iâve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Canât use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!
OH! Also totally weird, Iâve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! Iâm not complaining though, itâs not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!
Steven:
God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! Heâs clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasnât been a problem this week, itâs like Iâm not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever itâll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. Weâre halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! Itâs like heâs literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! Heâs never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all heâs suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so itâs not like he doesnât know it.Â
It was a little surprising actually, cause I wouldâve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, itâs like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man thatâs kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while Iâm still on his chickenshit diet.
Friday March 25th-
Steven:
Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! Itâs just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesnât matter what it was, I canât stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off⌠That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.
I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I canât believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly heâs totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrewâs credit his diet ain't too bad either. Iâd never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. Iâm not even doing skincare or anything but itâs like Iâve been on a routine for years, itâs crazy! Itâs still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..
Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and couldâve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like Iâve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe Iâll go see if heâs still at the gym~
Andrew:
Fuuuuck dude lol. I shouldâve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Donât know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like Iâm just busting out new PRâs! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isnât cutting it anymore. Maybe Stevenâd be down for a clothes swap, Iâve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows heâll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You shouldâve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but Iâm not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. Iâm not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.
Mm, saying that though, I def didnât hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)
Saturday March 26th-
Stevie:
Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what itâs like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what heâs doing, and thank god my dick isnât showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-
Ugh! I didnât even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He wouldâve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didnât see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. Heâs such an ass!Â
I still have a boner now actually, itâs his B.O. driving me actually crazy! Itâs like I canât think near him if heâs going to stink this bad god.. Oh, heâs doing pullups on the door frame fuck. Heâs supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck itâs getting even bigger. Iâm supposed to be the strong one right? Itâs not, fuck. This isnât right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-
And Drew:
Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldnât resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he canât even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since Iâm sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didnât even remember they were his. Â
Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didnât take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. Heâll get the chance soon enough though >:) God itâs a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesnât need to shave anymore, donât want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! Iâve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. Itâs like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he canât help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if Iâm going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. Heâll be riding my cock any second now.
Sunday March 27th-
Stevie:
Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing Iâve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and Iâd thank him ugh! Heâs just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ Iâll need to keep myself pretty so he wonât get tired of me hehe! Not that itâll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I donât even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I canât imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ Heâs staring at my ass right now so I guess itâs time for another round! Canât thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he Iâve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drewâs ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~
Drew:
My little bitch is so tight, fuck. Iâm surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or weâll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Wonât hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like heâll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope heâs ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and heâll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Canât be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck heâs chilled out finally, though I guess my cockâll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of itâs about that time again. Hope heâs ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Confessions Series - Part 1: Overheard [Genshin Impact Male Characters]
Note: Welp I had the itch to write again so here I am. Though sleep deprived because baby keeps waking up every 3 hours to feed... I wanted to do this haha. Based on @soulprompts âI love youâ prompts. What other character should I do?
Warnings:Â havenât written in a while please excuse and tell me about pronoun slips, Iâm sleep deprived, not proofread, some are just concepts of liking someone, having a crush on them, while some are full blown love confessions. SOME ARE ANGSTY, chose only the male characters I wanted to write for instead of forcing myself to do all of them.
Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader Â
Other works in this series: (Part 2 - Description)
Scenario:Â Talking to a friend about how you feel about him. Unbeknownst to you, he was listening, hidden round the corner. What does he do?
Aether
âHeâs sweet,â You simply answer when asked what you like about Aether. âI mean, heâs a simple guy. Heâs not a mystery, itâs not hard to read him nor to get along with him. I guess thatâs one of the reasons why a lot of people like him.âÂ
âUhuh,â your friend drawls, their head lazily resting on their hand. âbut you donât just like Aether. You seriously LIKE him,âÂ
Youâre rendered speechless by the statement for a second, tripping over your first words, âWell--I mean--â and as if realizing youâre making a fool of yourself by speaking in garbles, you recover. âYeah, I guess...â You donât know why you admit to it, but itâs not like your friend didnât already know.
What he does:
Is tempted to immediately walk up to you and reconfirm the conversation.
Stops himself for a minute and replays the whole conversation in his head, probably once, twice and maybe a third time.
Second guesses himself, but when he finally goes through all possible options, he realizes thereâs no mistaking the overheard confession.
All the while, Paimon is nagging him to go talk to you. âYou didnât hear wrong! Stop thinking too much, hurry and go!â Ends up being pushed out into the open by his flying companion.
âErm...Ahemâ he coughs into his fist. âI...didnât mean to eavesdrop...Y/N, sorry, but... can we continue this conversation somewhere else? Somewhere...a little more private?â and the shy smile he gives you is a tell tale sign that he had most likely felt the same.
Albedo
âHis schedule is always busy. He has his hands full with Klee, on top of all the work he needs to do,â was your excuse to your friend when asked why you havenât confessed to the alchemist yet. âI donât think Albedo has time for this type of thing, you know? He doesnât need a distraction.â
What he does:
His logical side agrees that he doesnât need a distraction.
But the other part of him doesnât mind if its you.
Pauses for a moment, thinks about it for a second, before confronting you about it just minutes later.
â...Schedules can be made flexible, Y/N,â you jump at his sudden voice. âJust as distractions...can sometimes be a good thing,â Albedo stretches a hand out to you. â...Care to test how good of one you can be to me?âÂ
Alhaitham
âY/N, Alhaitham is FAR from stupid. Thereâs no way he hasnât figured out that you have a crush on him,â
âShush!!â You swerve around to your friend, ducking a little, as if that would help you become invisible. âPeople could be listening, besides, if thatâs true, then itâs even worse. It means that he knows, and probably has no interest in me, so letâs just forget about it, ok?âÂ
What he does:
..................................No he doesnât know. Sure heâs smart but............he could be dense when it came to these things. That, or he just didnât know what to do.
Does not confront you about it immediately. In fact he turns around and walks away without being spotted, opting to think about his next steps instead of just rushing into the conversation.
Lo and behold a few days later heâll show up in front of you with his usual stoic expression.
âY/N,â he starts, and you freeze on the spot, looking up at him, blinking.Â
âY-Yes?â You havenât seen nor heard from him in days and as usual, you attributed it to him being busy. Little did you know that he had been mulling over how to talk to you.
âI heard your conversation with (your friend) the other day,â straightforward was his answer to everything, even in this particular situation.Â
It takes you a few seconds to internalize his words. Youâre not even sure which conversation he means. You talk to (your friend) a lot. Your brows start to furrow in confusion, until he clarifies.Â
â...I wouldnât say that I completely have no interest in you,â he starts, and your shoulders tense up, now realizing which conversation it was. You could feel your cheeks start to burn, all you wanted to do was run away.Â
Alhaitham holds back a sigh, â...Anyway, here is no place to talk about this... Iâll meet you at Puspa Cafe tonight, if youâre free,âÂ
Youâre FAR from stupid too, and knew exactly what he was trying to do.
Ayato
âBesides why would the Lord Commissioner even look at someone like me?â you hiss at your friend who was trying to persuade you that Ayato also had the hots for you. It just seemed a little delusional to you.
âHe takes the chance to rile you up every time he sees you. Heâs obviously doing it on purpose,â your friend counters. You roll your eyes up to high heaven.
âHe does that to everyone...â you conclude, knowing that Ayato had the habit of--though you donât know if intentionally--giving his servants a scare.Â
âAlright, alright, you donât have to be so jealous,â your friend quips back, you send them a quick glare before going back to doing your own work.
What he does:
Doesnât even bat an eye. Smirks as he hears the whole story.Â
Confidently reveals his presence to the two of you, chuckling.
âJealousy doesnât usually paint a beautiful colour,â he starts, the overly pleasant smile on his face. You straighten up immediately, eyes changing into saucers when you realize he had heard the whole thing. You open your mouth to explain, but he beats you to it.
âBut I must say it looks a little different on you, Y/N, almost charming,â The side of his lip quirks up the slightest bit into a subtle grin. You bite your lip, there he is again trying to rile you up, maybe (your friend) was right.Â
â...Is there anything I can do for you Lord Commissioner?â you ask, trying to stray away from the subject. He only chuckles.Â
âYouâll find that there are a LOT of things you can do for me, Y/N. Start by accompanying me to tea, hm?â He wasnât really asking, it was almost a command.Â
You wished your friend snickering on the side would just shut up.
Cyno
â...Heâs a little intimidating donât you think? I donât know why you like him so much,â your friend comments, slacking off on their pile of paperwork. You roll your eyes at them.Â
âMaybe because he works hard, unlike other people,â you shake your head a little.Â
âAs General Mahamatra heâs supposed to work hard. Just admit that you have weird tastes.â your friend counters, still procrastinating on their share of work.
âOkay, so what if heâs a little vicious in his ways? Heâs just doing his job. Now, it would help me if you started doing yours as well,âÂ
What he does:
Doesnât know what to do.
Stands hidden for quite a long time. The subject has already moved on and away from him.
Torn between revealing himself now or later.Â
Canât think properly so exits from the situation and comes back later that same day, when youâre still working with your friend.
As he approaches your table, your friend notices him first. (Your friend) nudges you with their elbow, tilting their chin up to let you know that someone was approaching.Â
You pick your head up, and feel yourself go rigid when you see that itâs Cyno. At first you think to yourself that he might not be here to talk to you, maybe heâs just about to walk by...but he stops in front of your table and youâre left to wordlessly look up at him.
Thereâs a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever.
â...I value the high praise that you give me,â he starts and you immediately want to duck under the table and hide.
He heard.Â
âO-Oh, G-General Mahamatra, you heard that...Itâs...nothing, hard work deserves to be praised...â you avert your gaze down to the papers you were working on, pretending to continue and be busy with them.Â
There was an awkward pause, your eyes darting up towards him for a second, checking if he was still looking at you, before breaking away again and furiously flipping through papers.
â...Do you want to play some TCG?âÂ
âHuh?â You end up with an incredulous look on your face, trying to gauge if he was serious. His face is still blank, but the usual tenseness in the way he carried himself gave way for a barely seen relaxation. It was hard to spot, but it was there.Â
You ended up sighing a little in what you could only describe as relief, giving him a lopsided smile. âSure, but go easy on me, I havenât played in a while,â
âThatâs fine. Perhaps a daily practice session will do you good,â
Dainsleif
âMysterious, aloof, disappears into thin air... A man like that? You probably should stay away, Y/N. You donât know what he dabbles in,â (Your friend) warns, looking at you with genuine concern.Â
âPerhaps he has some secrets...but I donât think heâs a bad guy at all. Iâve spent some time conversing with Dainsleif here and there,â you continue to wipe the tables, not noticing that the man you were talking about had long entered the tavern already and was now standing behind the two of you.
âAt least heâs handsome, thereâs that,â (Your friend) adds.Â
âSure, but thatâs not the only reason I like him,â you laugh.
What he does:
Wonders if he heard the conversation right and overanalyzes what you mean by âlikeâ him.
Either way it stirs a strange emotion in him, one that he hadnât felt in a long, long time.
Prefers to get things over with and thinks thereâs no harm in confronting you immediately.
You hear someone clear their throat behind you. Thinking that it was a customer you turn around with a pleasant smile, only for it to slowly dwindle down into a shocked expression.
Dainsleif.
âY/N,â he nods his head towards you casually. You gulp, force a smile, and nod back. âHi, youâre early today,â just as your friend slips away from the conversation. Dainsleif doesnât even spare them a glance.
He doesnât have much to say about your comment of him being early. He doesnât particularly know why he was early today either. Perhaps...fate would have him hear the conversation between you and (Your friend).
âYes, well, it looks like there were benefits to being early today,â he meets you eye to eye, the intensity in his gaze almost makes you blush from your neck all the way up to the top of your head, but you fought the giddiness back.Â
â...What can I get you?â thereâs a shiver that threatens to run up your spine, wondering if your deflection was successful. Dainsleif closes his eyes momentarily, before opening them with a strange sense of courage.Â
âYour company,â
Diluc
âItâs been years,â (Your friend) says, the two of you looking up at the massive oak tree of Windrise. They glance at you from the side of their eye before continuing. âAre you still in love with Diluc?â
Thereâs a breeze that passes, almost melancholic, and partly whispered of sorrow. â...I donât think Iâll ever stop loving him.â You pick your hand up to rub at your arm. âJean, Kaeya, Diluc and I...So many things have changed since we were kids...but I donât think that spot for Diluc will ever go away,â
âDoes he know, at least?â (Your friend) asks and you half scoff.Â
âIâm not sure, I get the feeling he does, but doesnât act on it. Which is why...maybe the only way to solve this emptiness is to leave Mondstadt altogether.âÂ
âOut of sight, out of mind huh?â (Your friend) claps your back, and turns around to start walking away with you.
What he does:
Internally a mess of emotions. Doesnât know where to start.Â
but heâs just standing there and heâs stuck watching (your friend) and you turn around to come face to face with him.Â
He looks at you, a wave of memories and emotions flashing through his mind all at once, it almost overwhelms him.Â
âD-Diluc,â you stutter, heart freezing in your chest. You see him take a steadying breath in, prying his gaze away from you and over to (Your friend).
â(Your friend), could you give us a minute?â he asks. (Your friend) obliges, passing you a quick glance before going ahead on their own. Another breeze runs by, ruffling his long red hair.Â
â...I didnât mean for you to hear that,â you start, and yet he doesnât say anything, prompting you to continue talking. â...You donât have to think about it too much, itâs just silly--â
âI wasnât sure,â he cuts you off, eyes drawn to the ground now. âI wasnât sure...if you really felt that way.âÂ
The statement somehow exasperates you. âYou werenât sure? All those times I stayed by your side when everyone else left--â then it hits you. âOr were you scared, Diluc?â
The quick grimace in his expression tells you the answer. His reply comes a few seconds later, âI was, I still am,â but he picks his head up, and finally looks you straight in the eye. â...but this time...â his fists clench on his side. âThis time give me the chance to show you how much I really care about you,â
He was not going to lose you too.
Itto
âSeriously?! Itto? Arataki Itto? Are you for real?â (Your friend) announces to nearly half of the food stall, the other customers swerving around to look at the two of you.Â
"Oh, say it a bit louder why donât you?â You roll your eyes at your friend and continue eating.â
âSorry. I just--Out of all the people you could choose, your huge crush is on that big brute??â your can tell by the look on your friendâs face that they think you have weird tastes.
What he does:
Butts in without even thinking of the conversation. Has no clue whatâs going on.
âCrush?!â
You and your friend startle, swerving around to see none other than the oni with his hands on his hips. âY/N?! You planning on crushing me?!â then he guffaws with laughter, slapping his knees in the process. âYeah right, youâre no match for me!â
Your previously gaped open mouth slowly closes and your shoulders relax, sighing. Youâre a little disappointed he doesnât get it at all. Your friend shakes their head with a long sigh. âYou stupid oaf, we donât mean it that way...âÂ
Ittoâs head tilts sideways, a genuinely confused look on his face. âNo? Then... Watcha all talkin about?âÂ
You grab your friendâs arm and pull them forward the slightest bit. âItâs not important! Actually, we better get going--â
âY/N has a CRUSH on you, idiot! Y/N LIKES you!â Your friend explodes, patience long gone.Â
Itto blinks at the confession, his eyes darts towards you, â...Oh,â then thereâs the slight tugging at his chest, he canât help but beam and smile silly. âYeah? Youâre not too bad yourself Y/N! I like you too!â
Youâre not sure if he really understood the confession in its entirety.Â
Kaeya
âItâs all just fun and games with Kaeya. It doesnât mean anything,â you laugh sheepishly, yet you rub the back of your neck a little.
â...Do you want it to be just fun and games?â your friend chides, and thereâs a moment of silence. The two of you just sitting there already knowing the answer, itâs almost uncomfortable, until your friend sighs.Â
â...Letâs change the subject,âÂ
What he does:Â
responds immediately. Will not wait a second longer to come out of his hiding place and ask about what he just heard.
âHow about letâs not?â Kaeya emerges out of nowhere, slipping into the seat next to you at the cafe. His poise is confident and instantly his head lazily places itself into the palm of his hand, gaze lingering at you.Â
âSnowflake, I had no idea you felt like that,â his voice is smooth like ice and you bite your lip to keep yourself from saying something stupid.
â...I didnât say anything though?â you countered, trying to evade the conversation. Your friend watches on with interest.Â
âSilence speaks volumes, Y/N,â Kaeya scoots even closer to you, your shoulders touching each other. However, he maneuvers his arm around to lay on the seat behind you. âSo if youâre opposed to what Iâm about to do, better speak up,â
He leans closer, inch by inch, he waits for you to say something.
You stay silent.
He grins.
Scaramouche
âHat guy? Heâs brutal. But who am I to comment on your tastes, Y/N. Youâve always been weird,â (Your friend) chides, watching as you go over the bookshelf again.Â
âStop calling him that,â You murmur under your breath, more focused on finding the right book for your research. âThatâs not his only distinctive feature, you know,â you continue, still engrossed in looking for a book.
âOh? What else are his âdistinctive featuresâ?â (Your friend) drawls, rolling their eyes.Â
You hum a little, then plop on the ground cross-legged, wanting to get a better look on the last row of books of the Akademiyaâs library. â...His eyes,â you simply answer. âTheyâre a beautiful shade of violet-blue...Heâs always glaring at someone half of the time but he actually has very pretty eyes,âÂ
Thereâs silence and you finally get the peace you need to concentrate. However, that silence is broken by a voice that you know all too well.
What he does:
is amused.
thinks its cute pathetic.
will still look angry but will have a hard time actually being angry.
will be cocky.
âMy eyes, huh?â
Itâs hard to completely turn around in your sitting position, so you do the best you can to turn, side eye landing on Scaramoucheâs form. He has his arms crossed as usual, but thereâs a smug smirk on his face. âDidnât know it was that fascinating to you, bookeater,â
It was supposed to be an insulting nickname for you, who always had your nose in a book, but you took no offense to it at all.
You didnât know what to say, so you continued staring at him. He being the anti-social person that he was, just stared back. There was a big gap of silence before he felt that it was becoming too awkward.Â
â...Whatâre you looking for?â he blurted out.
â...A book...â
âAre you stupid? Of course youâre looking for a book. I meant whatâs the title?â There his usual sneer was back again and he unfolded his arms to look at you unimpressively.Â
â...A History of Inazuma: Volume 2...â you meekly replied, slowly realizing that he actually heard you praising him.
âYouâre in the wrong section,â the exasperated sigh he gives out causes you to wince, and you turn away back to the bookshelf as if to shield you from all this embarrassment.Â
âIf itâs about Inazuma, you should just be asking me,â you blink as your peripheral catches sight of an outstretched hand. You tilt your head to see that heâs offering his hand, but his face is blank.
â...Well? Come on. I donât have all day,â
You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling, something about the way he said it sounds threatening, but also slightly playful. But thatâs just the way he was.Â
You accept his hand, and he pulls you up easily.
Xiao
âOh so thatâs why youâre coming over more frequently...â (Your friend) grins, and you wave your hands around to tell them to quiet down. Adepti had good hearing after all.
âWell, Iâm also coming over cause Verr Goldet needs more help these days in the kitchen. You guys are getting so much customers these days that Yanxiao has a hard time by himself,â
âUhhuuhhhhhh, sure...was it also Verr Goldet who told you to try and master the Almond Tofu recipe from Yanxiao? Cause youâre awfully hell bent on trying to learn that recipe, according to Yanxiao,âÂ
You fall silent, feeling heat crawling up your neck. âI--â You start, searching for an excuse, but realized there was no escaping this one. âI just want to do something nice for Xiao, thatâs all,â you innocently quip. âI...I know I canât help him much, but maybe just cooking his favourite dish will help, even a little,â
(Your friend) smiles a little, knowing that the adepti probably heard everything. âThatâs nice of you, Y/N. You must care about him a lot,âÂ
What he does:
once upon a time he would do absolutely nothing. because getting involved with humans is something he shouldnât do.
But now he bides his time, and observes if itâs safe to open up.Â
He wouldnât outright thank you at first, but heâll slowly show up in front of you a little more everyday.
Heâs rather awkward, so at first he only nods his head as thanks when you leave the bowl of almond tofu on the ledge.
Eventually when he realizes youâre not going to stop cooking for him he goes the extra mile to do something simple for you too.
He places a stalk of your favourite flower on the ledge, right before you come to put down his bowl of almond tofu.Â
Iâve published The Ruthless Prince (Reader x Scaramouche) on paperback. Check it out here:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BVD1VVFP
Consider supporting me to read some exclusive fics:
https://ko-fi.com/primofate
buymeacoffee.com/lenaprimofate
Masterlist
https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/653296890583154688/masterlist-for-mobile-version-main-links
#alhaitham x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact#diluc x reader#genshin impact angst#genshin impact fluff#scaramouche x reader#cyno x reader#ayato x reader#genshin impact fanfiction
4K notes
¡
View notes
Text
ꎊ, ć§çŠĺ
ˇă ⸝[midnight practices...]
Genre: smut, teacher's pet, coach!Sunghoon x iceskater!Malereader.
C/w: Sunghoon being possessively perverted, feminization, bottom reader, fingering, oral (sunghoon giving). ďź Tw: Curses, manipulation, victimization, crying.
A/N: I don't consider myself the best at writing smut, so that's why this is so simple.
â°âž I still haven't finished writing the stories that I have planned to upload in a few days.
ďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźż
The sound of skates scraping the ice echoed across the empty rink as you completed the last lap, your cheeks and nose completely red from the cold. Your breathing was heavy and your muscles burned from the effort, but there was something else weighing on his mind.
Sunghoon, your coach, was watching you from the edge, ogling you from the warm-up, his gaze seeming to pierce the ice and get right to you.
As you headed to the locker room, you felt the chill of the air on his hot skin. As you took off your jacket and gloves, you heard the door open and close behind you.
Sunghoon had entered, his presence always imposing, his figure casting a shadow that covered everything.
"You did a good job today," Sunghoon said, his voice soft, almost like a whisper. There was a certain intensity in his gaze, a hunger that you had learned to recognize and fear.
âThank you, hyung,â you responded with a smile, trying to keep your voice steady. But your hands were shaking slightly as you removed the protections and slowly sat down on the wood bench.
Sunghoon approached slowly, his expression changing to a warm smile, but his eyes were those of a wolf stalking its prey. "[...], there is something I have wanted to tell you." His hand reached out, caressing one of your cheeks, before sliding up to your neck.
"What is it?" you asked, looking up to meet his eyes, you searched for a way to ignore the electric shock that Sunghoon's touch sent through your body.
You knew you should pull away, that you should say no, but something in you craved that forbidden touch, his lips kissing every part of your body would always be your favorite sin.
Sunghoon tilted his head, intensifying his gaze, fixated on you. "I've noticed you're distracted lately," he commented, his tone deceptively gentle."Your performance on the court has gone down. And I know it's because of that little friend of yours who's done using you."
You gulped, your defenses slowly crumbling, while he sounded worried, his words weren't the best. Sunghoon always knew how to get inside your head, how to find your weak points, in every sense of the word. "Yeah, it's been kind of hard..." you admitted, looking down.
Sunghoon smiled, a gesture that felt more predatory than sympathetic. "I know what you need, [...]. You need to forget all that. You need to stop worrying about things that don't matter." He said passing his knee between your legs, making you open them easily.
âBut hyung, I'm not sure this is right,â you said as you noticed his growing erection, your voice shaky as you fought the desire to surrender to Sunghoon's touch. "Maybe I should leave before... before something else happens."
You didn't want to admit it, but you felt like with every encounter, something was pushing you closer to falling in love with him, something you knew shouldn't happen.
"Do you want to leave?" Sunghoon interrupted you, his tone more like a challenge than a question. "Fine, but then you won't be coming back again and I doubt you want that, [...]"
The words hit you like a slap. The possibility of losing everything you had built terrified you more than anything, and Sunghoon knew it. "No, I don't want that," you finally muttered, your resistance breaking.
Sunghoon leaned in, bringing his face closer to yours to the point where your lips were constantly brushing, pressing a soft but insistent kiss against your lips.
His skillful hands began to work, slipping under your shirt and slowly lifting it up, setting it to your side, enjoying every centimeter of skin that he was revealing with his fingertips.
"I'm not just doing this because I want to help you, [...]," he said between kisses, his lips moving with calculated precision, biting your lower lip between moments. "I do it because I love you and because you're mine."
You closed your eyes, trying to block out the words as you lightly rested your hands on his shoulders, Sunghoon's touch stronger than your will. "But...what about your wife? s-she's pregnant" you tried to protest, though your voice sounded weak even to your own ears.
Sunghoon let out a soft laugh, a sound that was not entirely pleasant. "She has nothing to do with us. This moment is ours alone," he stated, his voice confident as his hands moved to your pants, decisively tearing them and your underwear apart, getting rid of them in one swift motion.
Sunghoon began to mark his way up your neck, then down to your bare chest, marking his territory with hot kisses and small bites on your nipples. A couple of gasps took over your mouth, your body responding to every touch, every whispered word Sunghoon said in your ear.
His fingers focused on caressing and squeezing your nipples, while he was in charge of kissing and noticeably marking your neck, the most sensitive areas of you. You could only moan unconsciously near his ear as you looked for a way to push him, with your eyes closed.
As soon as you regained your senses and sight, you saw your teacher on his knees, running his hands over your waist briefly.
Sunghoon was lowering his lips past your belly, his hands were firm, separating your legs in the best way, leaving your semi-erect cock in view, With the skill of a master who knows his apprentice well, he let out a soft laugh. "Do you realize how perfect you are because of me?" Sunghoon whispered as his lips grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, planting searing kisses that left a trail of heat in their wake. "Let me enjoy what I've harvested, okay?
You couldn't help but let out a moan when Sunghoon continued his exploration, lowering his head slightly just to lick your balls, his mouth moving towards your member quickly, almost instantly enveloping your glans with his lips.
The feeling of his tongue moving in circles against your tip sent waves of pleasure through your body, causing your little flesh to finish erecting, releasing a bit of precum.
Sunghoon used his tongue skillfully, the way he put your member inside his mouth was making you go blank, Your hands were squeezing the wood of the bench and your stomach only knew how to contract from the sensation.
Every movement was calculated, every touch measured to elicit maximum pleasure, like an artist who knows exactly how to pluck each string to pluck the perfect note.
Unexpectedly, Sunghoon laid you down on the bench, giving him greater access to your body. Without wasting any time, he inserted two of his fingers inside you without warning, pretending it was his big meat by the way he started pounding into you.
Tears began to flood your eyes and begin to overflow down your cheeks, the way he moved his head up and down and his tongue moved in a circular motion at the same time, one of his hands gently massaging your balls and the other sinking to the depths of you, managing to caress your sweet spot with his middle finger, it was what had you writhing on the bench.
Your back was arched and your moans were muffled, you were nowhere near reaching your first orgasm, you were so close that it had you rolling your eyes.
In a matter of seconds Sunghoon stopped, retreating slightly with an enigmatic smile. You gasped in discontent, your body shaking from a mix of frustration and unfulfilled desire. âHyung, pleaseâŚâ you begged, your voice so broken with longing and crying.
"First you tell me you don't want this, and now you're begging me like a fucking cock whore. Who understands you?" Sunghoon asked, his eyes shining with a mixture of superiority and cruel delight. "No matter how much you try to hide it, [...], you will always like to have me around. You ask for it just with the way you look at me."
While you were struggling to breathe, you were searching for the words necessary to excuse the reason for your prayers towards him, but you only remained speechless when you felt his fingers enter suddenly, again pretending that these were his fat member, which you never missed after each practice.
Your body lay caught in a storm of sensations as Sunghoon teased your hole and cock, giving you pleasure but denying you the relief you so desperately needed.
The torture continued when, as he moved his tongue over your tip, he made thrusts with his fingers, moving them like scissors near your innocent spot. Time seemed to stop as your teacher kept you on edge, his words full of manipulation, love and hate echoing in your head.
Finally, when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, Sunghoon intensified his attention. His tongue moved with lethal precision, his lips wrapping around your glans and slowly sinking his head, pressing your tip against the roof of his mouth.
You felt on cloud nine every time you heard his fingers grind hard against your skin and the way he made a kind of hook with his fingers every time he caressed your sweet prostate, Your legs trembled with poverty and your tears constantly slid down your face.
The heat of Sunghoon's mouth and the expert movement of his tongue combined wave after wave of pleasure that spread through every cell of your body, causing you to arch your back and let out a gasp, cumming steadily into his mouth.
Each spasm was a mix of sharp pleasure and painful sweetness, with Sunghoon enjoying the absolute control he had over you, causing spasms that seemed to have no end.
Even after the wave of orgasms had passed, Sunghoon continued to suck, his tongue moving like a wave over every corner of your member, prolonging your hypersensitivity, until your tearful sobs, completely overwhelmed, begged him to stop.
A sly smile formed on the taller man's face, stopping the movement of his fingers and tongue, slowly removing your small dick from his cavity.
When he finally pulled out, Sunghoon wiped the corners of his mouth with a satisfied gesture, wearing the shirt he had taken off you at the beginning, his gaze fixed on you, who lay exhausted and vulnerable on the bench. "I hope that can help you focus tomorrow," Sunghoon said, his voice a mix of authority and disdain. "Don't disappoint me, or I'll have to get another apprentice, and believe me, I really like having this internship with just you, [...]."
You could barely respond with a moan, your mind was completely clouded by the experience, your body continued to shake with post-orgasm.
You stared at nothing, running your hands all over your body, especially over your stomach, watching as Sunghoon stood up and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the empty locker room.
Just before the door closed, you heard a clicking sound, as if Sunghoon had finished recording something.
The idea came to you strongly, filling you with a mixture of fear and vulnerability.
When you were left alone in the silence of the locker room, you finally felt the weight of the situation fall on you. Each encounter with Sunghoon plunged you deeper into an abyss you didn't know how to escape, trapped between desire and guilt.
You had uncertainty digging into your mind, thinking quietly, "What if he's been recording this whole time? What am I going to do if he decides to use it against me?"
ďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźżďźż
ëŠëި ! đă
¤â¸ťă
¤ I was having a mental battle, deciding whether to upload it or not. I promise to update more often.
ěě´ëě´ !ă
¤â¸ťă
¤I'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <â (â  ̄â ︜â  ̄â )â >
All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara.
#sunghoon x male reader#sunghoon#x male reader#kpop x male reader#x male smut#enhypen x male reader#enhypen scenarios#đđŁđđđĄđ¨đ§đ˘đľ3��ďšă
¤đđđ
đđşđ˝đžđ˝.#enhypen smut#enhypen#enhypen sunghoon#sub male reader#kpop x male reader smut#x male reader smut
692 notes
¡
View notes
Text
wrong twin? (miya atsumu x reader)
summary: you have a massive crush on miya osamu. so the plan is to get closer to him through his twin brother. itâs genius. itâs bound to work. right?
word count: 3008
warnings: fem!reader, fluff, slight angst, swearing, maybe a dash of humor, atsumu being atsumu, him and reader bicker a lot
tags: @keiva1000
When you handed in your application to join the Inarizaki High School volleyball club as manager, you had a very clear agenda in mind, but nobody needed to know about that. You had a good knowledge of volleyball, you had good organizational skills, and you were responsible. They accepted your application in a heartbeat, and were none the wiser of your true intentions behind joining the team.
It was only when you cornered their blond setter after practice one day that you actually said the words out loud.
âYa want me to do what?â He raised an eyebrow, shoving his volleyball shoes into his backpack.
âHelp me get close to him!â You whispered in a conspiratorial tone, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to you two. Your eyes lingered on Osamu where he was helping Gin clean up. âYouâre his twin brother. Youâre closest to him. If we hang out more, that would inevitably mean I get to hang out with Osamu more too. And we can become friends. Eventually, I will get him to fall in love with me.â
Atsumu stared at you with a very distinct âwhat the fuckâ look, but you stared right back, determined.
âYer insane.â He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his way to the gym door. You followed behind.
âPlease, Atsumu!â You begged, following him out of the gym and down the path leading out of the school.
âNo!â He responded, not looking back at you. âYa wanna get close to him, just go talk to him! Why ya gotta drag me into yer crazy schemes?!â
âI canât just go talk to him, it would be creepy! I need a way into his circle.â
Atsumu gave you another look. âOh yeah, what yer saying right now isnât creepy at all.â Sarcasm dripped from his words.
You huffed, scowling at the back of his blond head. Your eyes caught the lights of the corner convenience store, and you felt an idea forming.
âI will buy you an after-practice snack every day for a year.â
Atsumu stopped short, looking back at you. âYer beinâ serious?â
You gestured to the store up ahead. âWe could start right now. I have money on me.â
His answering grin meant you had a deal.
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ
When you joined the twins for lunch the next day at Atsumuâs desk, Osamu raised an eyebrow.
âIt was my idea.â Atsumu explained. âSheâs cool so I said we should hang out more.â
Osamu seemed to buy it, shrugging and giving you a welcoming little smile. You felt yourself flush, giddy as you pulled up a chair and sat down next to Atsumu, opposite to his brother.
âOh sweet, are those pancake rolls?â Osamu asked when you opened your bento. You nodded eagerly.
âI made them myself!â You replied, pushing the box closer to him. âWanna try?â
You knew Osamu liked food (okay, maybe you had stalked him a little), and even though you sucked at cooking, you had meticulously made your lunch today for this very reason. You couldnât help your grin when Osamu bit into a roll and moaned at the taste, saying it was delicious. You could feel how hot your face was, even the tips of your ears felt warm. Atsumu rolled his eyes in your periphery but you paid him no mind, striking up a conversation with his brother instead.
âYer like a different person around him.â Atsumu commented later that evening, when you were sitting on the curb outside the convenience store and he was chowing down on a pork bun you had bought him. The rest of the team had gone ahead, most of them too tired to stop for a snack and just wanting to get to bed as soon as possible.
You sighed and shrugged. âI donât know what to tell you. He makes me feel things.â
Atsumu chewed for a little bit, watching you stare at the moth circling the streetlight.
âGross.â
You slapped him hard on the bicep at that, making him let out an âow!â. He pouted at you as he rubbed his arm, while all you did was roll your eyes in return.
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ
Lunch became a normal thing with the twins after that. You would wake up at 5am, cook something new that you thought Osamu might appreciate, and you would watch him devour it, praising you for how good it was. One time, Atsumu had gotten curious and tried to reach for a piece of onigiri, making you smack his hand away. He yelped and clutched it.
âWhat was that for?!â
âYou already get a snack out of me every day, Miya. Keep your paws off my lunch.â
Osamu had snickered at that, and your heart had skipped at the sound, effectively forgetting Atsumu even existed as your focus shifted entirely to his brother. Atsumu grumbled but complied, saying something about ââs probably not that good anywayâ. You paid him no mind.
You got to know Osamu a lot better during your little lunch sessions. He didnât talk as much as his brother, but he was perceptive, and a great listener. He seemed to balance out Atsumu perfectly, and you could see how close they actually were. You would often giggle at their banter, witnessing the many foul names they would call each other, but knowing they didnât mean it at the end of the day.
You often went to their house, under the guise of tutoring Atsumu. At first, Atsumu had told you no one would buy it, but you were adamant to try. And you were right. When you told Osamu why you were there, he snorted in response.
âFigures. This dumb fuck needs all the help he can get.â
Atsumu had yelled and tried to swat at his brother, but Osamu expertly dodged him. You had laughed at their antics.
Your study sessions were often spent with you stealing glances at Osamu from the dining table where you and Atsumu were located. He wouldnât stick around much, preferring to camp out in their shared bedroom, but you still appreciated every glimpse that you got of him when he wandered down to the kitchen for a snack. Atsumu would nudge you with his knee under the table.
âBe a little less obvious, will ya?â
You stuck a middle finger in his face in response. He grabbed your hand and twisted it a bit, just enough to make you yelp and try to push him away.
âTsumu, you jerk! Let go!â
âSay sorry!â
âOver my dead body!â
Osamu had to break you two apart sometimes, while you glared at each other from either side of him.
At practice, you would stay late when they needed help perfecting their quick attack, throwing balls so Atsumu could set them for Osamu. On the way back, you would buy Atsumu his daily snack and offer to pay for Osamuâs as well, which he always refused.
âUnlike this tool, Iâm not shameless enough to let someone else pay fer me.â
âHey!â
With every passing day, you felt that you were getting closer and closer to Osamu. Where you had barely exchanged words before, you two could hold long conversations now, and you especially loved when you ganged up to shit on Atsumu, who would be overdramatic as hell about the insults and act like he just got shot. You couldnât remember the last time you had laughed so much.
Then, Osamu got a girlfriend.
You didnât learn about it until you saw a girl at the gym on one random Wednesday. You had raised an eyebrow at her, watching as she looked around for something.
âCan I help you?â
She shook her head. âIâm just looking for Osamu. He left some stuff at my place last night.â
Your brain short circuited. Her place? Last night?
Then he ran over to her. Greeted her and thanked her for bringing his stuff. And then he kissed her.
You were mentally tuned out of practice for the rest of the evening.
When Atsumu walked up to you after practice so you could make your usual trip to the convenience store, you had just silently followed him. You had bought him some yakusoba bread, and you sat on the curb, waiting to walk home after he finished eating.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â You finally asked.
Atsumu sighed in return. âDidnât want ya to get hurt.â
You turned to look at him. His attention was on the bread. âDid you expect me to never find out?â
He shook his head. âI was hopinâ to tell ya after practice. Just couldnât think of the words.â
For some reason, you felt anger boil up inside you. You stood up abruptly. Atsumu paused his chewing to look up at you.
âI donât need you to coddle me, Tsumu.â You grit out. âThat was not the deal.â
Atsumu didnât seem fazed by your tone. âSit down.â
You glared at him. âIâm going home.â
When you turned to leave, you were stopped by his hand reaching up to clutch at the hem of your jacket, pulling you back.
âI know yer hurtinâ. Just sit.â
You donât know why that did it. Tears that had been building up all during practice were set free, rolling down your cheeks. Silently, you sat back down next to him. He didnât talk as you cried, only shuffling closer until his side was pressed to yours. An unexpected comfort came to you with the contact. You leaned on him, resting your head on your knees, shoulders shaking.
When you had calmed down enough, you wiped your face with your sleeves, sitting up straighter. Atsumu extended his bread to you. You raised an eyebrow.
âWhen have you ever shared with me before?â
He rolled his eyes. âYa want it or not?â
The bread seemed to melt in your mouth. Food did make you feel a bit better, but your mind was still on Osamu.
ââM sorry yer scheme didnât work out.â
You laughed a bit, taking another bite. âWhen you call it a scheme, it makes me think it was bound to fail from the start.â
Atsumu shook his head. âNah. Ya made an effort. I respect that.â He stretched his legs in front of him, leaning back on his hands. âYer a real catch. Yer smart and yer pretty. Samuâs blind ta not see that.â
You giggled, nudging Atsumu a bit. âCareful, Tsum-tsum. I might think you were falling for me.â
If your emotions werenât so over the place, and if you hadnât just tired yourself out from crying so much, you wouldâve noticed how the older Miyaâs eyes softened.
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ
Getting over Osamu wasnât easy. Especially after having chased after him for so many months. It didnât help that his little girlfriend seemed to come around more often, sometimes joining the team during practice. At times like those, you tried to stay as far away from her and Osamu, and that often meant you would find comfort in Atsumu, the only person who knew about your crush.
âWhat does he see in her anyway?â You voiced out loud, watching her laugh at something Osamu had said. You were sitting on a bench outside the gym with Atsumu, watching the two interact on the other side of the path. The rest of the team still werenât done with their run. As usual, the twins were the first ones to reach the school.
Atsumu ran a towel over his neck, setting his water bottle down next to him. âYa need ta get over him.â
You rolled your eyes. âEasy for you to say. Youâve never loved anything except volleyball.â
âDamn right. Has volleyball ever betrayed me? No. So suck it.â
You dug your elbow into his side, making him yelp and grab your head, pushing you away. His hand was massive and covered over half your face, and you struggled to get him off, digging your nails into his forearm.
âTsumu, you asshole-â
You didnât even notice when Osamu stared at the two of you, too absorbed in your little squabble.
So yeah, getting over Osamu wasnât easy, but having Atsumu around helped a ton. Everytime he would see your eyes linger on Osamu too long, he would make some sort of comment, or change the subject, just trying to get your attention anywhere else. Too many times, he would physically grab you and turn you away from his twin, saying something along the lines of how you should be looking at the âbetter twinâ instead.
âSorry but which one of you decided to dye their hair the color of piss?â
âItâs blond!â
âYou ever heard of toner, dumbass?â
And you would grab his hair, messing it up and tugging at it a bit, giggling when he whined about you ruining his âhairstyleâ. You also knew that Atsumu would kill anyone else who dared touch his hair, and the fact made your heart skip a bit. It also made you think, and once the gears in your head started turning, there was no going back.
Now that the fog of your infatuation with Osamu was lifting a bit, you seemed to notice his twin more. You would watch how Atsumu seemed to almost shield you from anything that reminded you of Osamu. How he had made it a habit after that one evening to always share half his snack with you, no matter how small it was. He would often say out of pocket shit, but rather than annoying you, it seemed to endear you more. It was like these little quips were a part of his charm, and you would giggle along instead of telling him to shut up.
He was awfully touchy too. You suppose he had always been, and you had just never thought about it. But now it seemed like none of his moves went unnoticed by you. He had a habit of gripping your head with one hand and turning your face to his when you werenât paying attention. It used to annoy the crap out of you but now it made you pause and blink, meeting his caramel colored eyes. He would nudge you and poke you, he would drape an arm over your shoulders and whine about how tired he was. And your cheeks would warm up every time. You were forced to admit it.
You had a thing for Atsumu.
Deep down, you cursed at your luck, almost laughing in incredulity. What a joke this was, having a crush on both twins. But you knew that this was different. You knew this wasnât just a silly crush.
Atsumu was more. He had always been more.
âTsumu?â
He hummed in response, indicating he was listening, even if he was busy stuffing a chocolate bar into his mouth. You two were in your usual place, sitting on the curb outside the convenience store, lit up only by the light of the store behind you and the lamp post across the street. You watched his profile, the way his jaw moved when he chewed, his eyes trained before him, his undercut, and his dyed hair falling over his forehead slightly.
He was so painfully attractive. And you had never noticed.
He looked at you finally when you didnât speak, raising an eyebrow.
âEverythinâ okay?â
You nodded hastily, turning away from him. You heard him pause, wrapping up what was left of his chocolate and placing it next to him before shuffling closer to you.
âYer lyinâ. What is it?â
You let out a laugh, shaking your head. âYou can read me so well.â
He shrugged in response, draping his arm over your shoulder. You closed your eyes, mentally accepting how the action now made you feel.
âI did spend the whole year hearinâ ya whine about yer feelings, so yeah. I can read ya pretty well.â
You sighed, turning your head to look at him. At this proximity, you could see the brown swirling in his eyes, and it reminded you of milk chocolate. You were nearly nose to nose with him, and you werenât nervous at all. With Osamu, you would always be on edge. Your insides would squirm, your heart would race, and oftentimes, you would stumble over your words.
With Atsumu, you felt every muscle in your body relax when he touched you. Despite his chaotic personality and his crude language, Atsumu was so tuned in when it came to you. When you needed it, he was as calm as they come. There was such unprecedented comfort in his presence. When you were around him, it felt like everything would be okay.
âI love you.â
It came out of you involuntarily at that moment. But you werenât scared to tell him. You should have been, but one look at him this close and all your fears were melting away. When Atsumu gave you a little smile, you couldnât help but return it.
âI love ya too, sweets.â
His kiss was expected. Soft, slow, perfect. His lips were plush and warm, and he tasted like the chocolate he had just been eating. His arm around your shoulder tightened, and his other hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your head enough to deepen the kiss. You felt your head buzz, your hands fisting at the front of his shirt and trying to pull him closer, though it was impossible.
You whined in protest when he ended the kiss, making him chuckle slightly. The sound made your lips twitch up a bit, and you ran your eyes all over his face. He hummed in approval.
âThere it is.â
You blinked. âWhat?â
He traced your cheekbone with his thumb. âYa know how long Iâve wanted ya to look at me like that and not Samu?â
Right. Samu. You had forgotten about him completely the moment Atsumuâs lips touched yours. The thought made you giggle and pull at his jacket collar to tug him close, until his lips were meeting yours again.
#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu fluff#miya atsumu angst#miya atsumu x you#miya atsumu x y/n#miya atsumu fanfic#miya atsumu imagine#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu fluff#hq fluff#friends to lovers#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu imagines
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
I found a nice plant in a bog last year, like a reed with a tuft of very soft cotton at the top (bless you English, I just looked up "plant that grows in a bog and looks like cotton" and the English language replied "bog cotton, duh") (in French it's called linaigrette, which should be a small bird), and I was very charmed by the look of it and decided to try to pirate it so I would have some on my land. I plucked one fluffy reed and kept it on my windowsill so I wouldn't forget to return.
Of course, when I returned a few days later with a shovel and a bucket, I couldn't find the bog cotton again. Or the bog. It was a small swamp-y area in a very vast plateau with few landmarks, so it's possible I got turned around, but also, things tend to disappear around here sometimes, like the footpath that leads to the stream, only to reappear a few weeks later. I very much felt like I was in the correct location and the bog wasn't, but okay. Since I didn't trust myself to tell the normal reeds from the cotton-y ones in other seasons, I decided I'd come back around the same time next year.
I've had the linaigrette in my egg spiral in the kitchen this whole time as a memento, and I finally resumed my quest today. I left my car in the exact same spot where I'd left it the previous two times, just before the road gets squiggly for no apparent reason:
I climbed the hill and behind it were just miles and miles of estives (summer cow pastures) with sometimes a barn here and there with a mobile milking parlour. My plan was to follow every rivulet I came across, since I was looking for a watery area.
I picked a barn as a landmark to find my car again, and off we went.
Finding reeds wasn't difficult, but none of them had cotton tufts...
Pandolf was extremely aware that we were looking for something, but he wasn't sure what. Here he is digging in the mud with his paw, looking invested in this treasure hunt.
Sometimes he would stop with one paw poised in the air and his whole body pointed forwards like an English setter who just smelled a pheasant in a Heywood Hardy painting and it was always for cow herds. If I squinted and squinted I could be sure to find a cow on the horizon, the size of an antâI think Pan was a bit disappointed when he realised I never followed up on the cows he smelled, and it probably wasn't cows we were looking for.
(zoom x400 in case you can't see this cow standing apart from her herd like a sentinel)
I tried to amuse him by giving him little challenges here and there, like climbing on big rocks because he likes rocks. He likes being congratulated even more, though, and if I didn't insist that he actually climb on the rock he would just sort of run towards it and push himself off of it like a swimmer doing a flip turn at the wall to run back to me even faster (for pats). (Had to turn off the sound in the video because the wind was loud, so I subtitled our dialogue)
Some challenges he politely declined to do. I like how despite being very eager to please he sometimes gives me very clear "no thank you"s when I tell him to do something that sounds absurd to him. We found a little waterfall that went down a slope like a mud toboggan and I said "down!" to tell him to slide down that thing and he was like
Our strategy of following water paid off, because look what we found eventually!!
I had a very hard time digging up one clump of reeds with some roots; the bog was holding on to its cotton for dear life. Every time I opened a hole in the mud with my shovel with a horrible sucking noise, the bog would immediately close on itself again with an even stronger vacuum. It also tried to eat my boots, repeatedly. When I moved around the reeds I was trying to steal I had to take my foot out of my boot, stand on one leg like a heron and put the tip of my shovel under the sole of the boot to pry it up. But after maybe 20min of effort, the bog finally let go of one muddy clump of reeds in a loud, dejected SLURP and I was able to put it in my bucket. It was about 10x heavier than I expected so the walk back to my car was slow!
(One thing to keep in mind if you're going to wrestle a swamp for half an hour, is that you're going to end up looking and smelling like a swamp creature. I had to stop at the post office to send a parcel and I really regretted not doing it earlier. It's funny because the post office lady is always like "no, don't worry, come in!! <3" when you show up on rainy days apologising for your muddy shoes, but when I arrived today and asked her from the entrance if I should just throw my parcel at her rather than go in, with my socks making a pitiful plop-plop sound in my boots as I walked, and mud freckles all over my face from aggressive shovelling, and overall looking like a gravedigger, she took one look at me and went "... yes, throw it.")
The good news is, I didn't get lost returning from the swamp to my car, and had no trouble finding my barn-landmark again, and there were new animals there, a nice mule with a retinue of small ponies.
She was friendly at first but then soured on me when I refused to let her sniff and maybe taste the reeds I'd had so much trouble digging up, and then she wouldn't let me approach her ponies.
One of the ponies approached Pandolf, and I told him to stand stillâwe've been working on "reste lĂ !" (stay there) for a while and it's hard because he's so friendly and exuberant, so I was very proud of him when he stood there frozen as a marble statue, waiting for the pony to come closer. The pony ended up stopping at a prudent distance and stretching his neck out to try and sniff Pandolf, it was very cute.
That's the end of the quest for bog cotton! Here it is now, transplanted to the swamp-y part of my pasture, I hope it'll like it here.
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
âHide me hide me hide me hide me hide me.â
Nico blinks, watching blankly as Will ducks under his arm, situating himself behind the door and peeking around it. When Nico doesnât move, he cranes his neck to look at him, face urgent, and says, âClose it, dude, hurry up!
âSolace!â
âFuck,â Will curses.
Nico blinks again. He squints across the common, trying to suss out what Willâs staring at. It doesnât take long. Sheâs hard to miss, especially in full armour.
âAre youâŚhiding from Clarisse?â
âAm I hiding from ââ He scoffs. âNo, Iâm just behind this door for fun. Fucking obviously Iâm hiding from Clarisse, Nico, now get with the program and close the damn ââ
âSolace!â
Both of them jump. When Nico looks, Clarisse is already way closer than she should be. Before he can process enough to slam the door, and heedless of Willâs increasingly-harried oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods fuck fuck fuck fuck, Clarisse is closer, and closer, and then suddenly sheâs barging inside, pushing Nico aside like itâs not his damn cabin.
Will groans. âAw, come on, Clarisse!â
She doesnât bother to humour him with words, choosing instead to grab him by the collar and drag him bodily out. Will does not make it easy, going completely limp and getting his clothes grass-stained beyond belief, because Clarisse tugs him along like a sled behind her, bouncing over every stone. Nico follows, on the grounds that itâs not being nosy if Will dragged him into it technically.
âYou have siblings! You have a boyfriend!â
âAnd yet Iâm choosing you,â Clarisse says easily. âIâve already told Chiron. Itâs a done deal, weatherboy. Youâre chariot racing with me.â
Will groans, trying in vain to squirm out of Clarisseâs grip. âThere is no reason for me to be your partner in the stupid chariot race, I am a healer, I am at camp to heal ââ
She shakes him a little to shut him up. âAll the more reason. You focus too much on one thing, brat. All you do is heal and study like a big nerd. You need to get out of your comfort zone.â
âUm, no way. Iâm very comfortable in it. Thatâs why itâs called a comfort zone.â
âYou could use some training,â Nico pipes up, and the betrayed look Will gives him would be more effective at making him feel bad if it wasnât so funny. âLast time I tried to teach you how to use a sword you almost sliced off your own face, so.â
Clarisse looks at him with appraisal. âMaybe you do have some sense in you, di Angelo.â
Nico chooses to take that as the compliment it is.
âUgh,â Will says dramatically, and finally manages to wrench out of Clarisseâs grip in order to embed the appropriate level of drama in his face-down flop to the floor.
Clarisse kicks him. âYouâre pathetic.â
âUgh.â
Notably, he stops protesting. She kicks him again, affectionately this time, and stomps away.
âââ
âIf I work myself into another coma, I donât have to chariot race,â Will says gleefully, shoving the bottles of nectar Nico hands him onto a shelf. Heâs been buzzing around the infirmary all day, healing things he is meant to be healing with a band-aid and a stop being a clumsy dumbass, dumbass with hymns and salves. âIâm gonna try to cure cancer again.â
Kayla, walking by, reaches out and smacks him. âTry it and Iâm crack your country CDs in half.â
Will turns to her, opening his mouth â
âEvery single one of them,â she stresses, green eyes narrowed.
â and closes it again, huffing.
âIâll find a way,â he says glumly.
Nico pats him delicately on the back. âThere, there.â A pause. âI mean, personally, I canât wait to watch you fall out of a chariot.â
The look Will shoots him is nothing short of wounded. âYou think Iâm so uncoordinated Iâm gonna fall out of the chariot?â
âGracefully!â assures Austin from across the infirmary, smiling supportively. He grins brightly when they turn to look, nose scrunching with the force of his smile. âIâm sure!â
Willâs scowl twitches in the face of his brotherâs blind enthusiasm. (It is impossible not to be endeared by Austin. He is genuinely the sweetest kid in the entire universe. Nico even gets, to his horror, the occasional urge to squish him. Gently.) He sighs.
âThanks, Austin.â
âOf course! Love you Will!â
The twitching scowl melts into a full smile. âLove you too, kiddo.â
âââ
Watching chariot race practices, very quickly, becomes Nicoâs favourite pastime.
He sees, now, why Achilles would bring them up, unprompted, wistful look in his eye, every time Nico visited. Thereâs a beauty in the rawness of it; the whipping winds, wild horses. Squealing wheels and bending axels, open-backed and inches from death at all time. Dangerous, exhilarating. Humanity, at itâs most thrilling and old â some of the first tools, the first domestic animals, the first machines, all at once. Itâs pure, raw excitement.
Also, Will falls out of the chariot, like, eight whole times. And thereâs nothing funnier than watching him lose his shit at a splintered pile of wood that was once a carriage, helmet thrown to the ground in a fit of rage, accent so thick heâs literally incomprehensible. Nico never gets to see him like this. His stomach actually hurts from laughter on several occasions.
Slowly, though, he starts to get the hang of it. Heâs smart â incredibly so â and when he stops spending half his time complaining, and the other half pouting, he actually gets pretty decent. Heâs fast, after all, and quick to observe, to respond; the other teams struggle to land hits on him, in practice runs, and sabotage is difficult when your opponent seems to have an almost prophetic gift to see things coming.
He canât, however, steel himself to hit back.
And therein lies the trouble.
âFor fuckâs sake, Will, Iâm not asking you to kill anybody,â Clarrise snaps. âYou need to get your head in the game!â
Willâs shoulders curl defensively. âI know! Iâm trying! Itâs just ââ He kicks at their broken wheel, in two clean pieces on the ground. âDo no harm.â
âDo some harm. Or Iâm gonna kick your ass.â
Will brightens. âAnd then ask somebody else to be your partner?â
âNo, and then make you my partner forever.â
âOh.â
Willâs sullen face is hard to look at. Heâs got those big, puppy dog eyes, round and sad and pouty. Not even Clarisse is immune. (And certainly not Nico, who finds himself halfway off the spectatorâs stands and jogging to the tracks before he wonders what exactly, the fresh fuck, he is doing, and sprints right back.)
âShit, Solace, donât look like I killed your goddamn mother.â She cuffs him on the shoulder, sending him sprawling with a muffled oof. âWeâll figure it out. Letâs go again.â
Accepting the spare chariot someone wheels towards her, she pulls herself up, making space for Will to do the same. He doesnât get on immediately, still looking miserable, but concedes eventually.
His forearms look kind of nice when he grips onto the rails for dear life, Nico notices. From a totally objective perspective.
The four practicing teams guide their horses to the starting line, running a few last minute checks. To avoid spilling any secrets or strategies, everyone uses the same practice-issue wooden chariot and wears the same armour, but itâs still obvious whoâs who.
The Hephaestus teamâs chariot, despite being standard issue, gleams like itâs brand-new. The wood is polished and looks to be altered, barely; a carved groove here, a sharper wing there. Nothing that could really be considered an upgrade, but definitely making the whole thing look smoother. The spears they hold promise a plethora of untold ability hidden within.
The Hermes chariot looks deceptively beat up. Thereâs a chunk missing from the top of the left side, and one of the wheels appears to be just slightly out of alignment. Upon careful inspection, though, Nico can see clear, hollow tubing attached along the rails and open to the back â definitely a quick rig of some sort. Base (not acid, Cecil had happily lectured him on the benefits of using a base rather than an acid when dissolving anything from steel to human flesh), if Nico has to guess, or maybe Greek fire.
The Aphrodite-Iris chariot doesnât have to do much to look great. The whole thing seems to coast gracefully to the beginner line, and neither charioteer looks particularly bothered or preoccupied with the competition â if Nico recalls correctly, and he does, their goal is to win through âgay audacityâ, which Nico does not understand but supports wholeheartedly.
Will and Clarisseâs chariot, by comparison, is pretty run-of-the-mill. They havenât done much training with the Ares horses or the Apollo flying chariot, because Clarisse is primarily concerned with training Will â she knows the equipment is fine.
Lacy, standing at the edge of the track, puts a sparkly pink whistle to her lips and blows loudly. Itâs not nearly as loud as one of Willâs sonic whistles, but it does the trick, and the teams are off in a blur of movement; Will and Clarisse in the lead, Hephaestus behind them, Aphrodite-Iris in third, and Hermes lagging slightly behind.
As they turn their first corner, positions largely unchanging, Nico hears footsteps from his left â Lou Ellen smiles at him as she climbs the stand, settling into the space he makes next to him.
âWhatâd I miss?â she asks, brushing dust off her hands.
He shrugs. âNot much. They were in the lead the last practice round, too, but on the last lap Hermes caught up.â He gestures to the heap that was once their practice chariot. âJulia had her sword at their wheels. They were on the inner ring, nowhere to move; the only way to get rid of them would have been to knock her arm, probably dislocate her shoulder. Will couldnât do it.â
Lou Ellen winces. âAh.â
Thereâs a ripping sound, followed by cackling â the Hermes chariot has finally made use of their hasty rigging, setting off an explosion behind them that rockets them forward. It has the added bonus of shaking the ground, slightly, unsettling the other drivers for just barely long enough for them to pull into third place. Far ahead, still in first, Nico can see Clarisse yelling instructions at Will, although he canât hear what they are. His grip on the rail has tightened.
âWhy,â starts Nico carefully, and based on Lou Ellenâs pinched face she knows exactly where heâs going, âdoes she make him â well, you know.â
Lou Ellen is silent for a good long while, watching the practice chariot race with eyes that arenât paying attention. Hermes is gaining, but Hephaestus is gaining faster.
âClarisse has always liked Will,â she says eventually. She meets Nicoâs incredulous expression, snorting. âWell, as much as Clarisse can like people. I got here way after he did, so I donât have any more details there than you do, but heâs never been afraid of her, and she likes that. Heâs never been mean to her, either. I mean, I know she can be a bully, but people arenât exactly light on her, to be fair.â
The Aphrodite-Iris chariot turns out to have some tricks up its sleeve â it starts to glow; barely at first, but quickly blinding. At its crux, everyone has to look away, allowing them to pull into first.
Well, except that Will doesnât seem nearly as staggered as everyone else. In fact, he doesnât look bothered at all â for the first time that Nico has seen, thereâs something like competition pulling a crooked smile on his face. He stares straight at the still-too-bright chariot, reigns wrapped around his arms as he yanks them forward.
âIs that why she drags him away sometimes?â Nico asks. âTo train?â
âSomething like that. Most of his training was with ââ she falters. âWell, you know who. Medicine and some archery.â
Theyâre both quiet for a while. Neither of them ever knew Lee or Michael well, if at all, but over time Nico has found himself almost clamming up at the mere thought of them, the way one might tiptoe around an authority figure when they have something to hide. Forbidden subjects, where before Nico simply didnât think of them often.
âYou canât just not train, though,â Lou Ellen murmurs, eyes trained on the chariots. Hephaestus throws one of their spears, lodging it in the spokes of the Aphrodite-Iris chariot. They come to a very abrupt and very screechy halt, knocking them out of the race in any real capacity. âNot at Camp Half-Blood. She taught him hand-to-hand because she was the only one strong enough to physically drag him to the arena. Everyone else gave up after the first few tantrums â I think she was kind of amused by the challenge. Or something.â
âOr something,â Nico agrees. Privately, he thinks that there is something about Will Solace that makes you want to protect him. Not frailty â he is not by any means incapable â but something about his smile, his genuineness. The stubborn belief that people are good and kind and worthy of everything he has to give. A naivety, except someone whoâs been through what he has (what they all have) cannot be naive â his hope in the world is hard-earned and well-won. It makes people want to protect his hold on it, by any means necessary.
Even, Nico reasons, ornery old fuckers like Clarisse LaRue.
The three remaining chariots start the last leg of the race â Apollo-Ares, barely squeezing out in front; then Hephaestus, quickly gaining; and finally Hermes, lagging slightly but not to be discarded. As they round the bend, Nico watches as Clarisse cuffs Will briefly on the arm, clearly proud. This is the farthest theyâve made in first so far, after two weeks of training. Will, reigns safely transferred back to Clarisse, beams at her â bright enough that Nico can see it from dozens of yards away.
With sudden, calculated speed, the Hephaestus chariot surges forward.
As if coordinated, Nico and Lou Ellen inhale sharply, leaning forward. He sees the scattered few other campers so the same in his peripherals, watching with single minded focus as the chariot levels exactly with Will and Clarisse. Nico eyes the spear nervously â of all weapons, theyâre the easiest for Will to dodge, to fight off. More impersonal.
But the sons of the smartest god around would know that.
For at least a hundred feet, nothing happens. Ares-Apollo and Hephaestus stay neck in neck, every urge forward matched, every pesky road-blocking stone avoided. The finish line is dangerously close, but no one pulls ahead, nothing changes. Four shoulders remain tense, four helmets stare resolutely forward.
Then, in a quick movement, the taller Hephaestus charioteer hands the spear off to the shorter, swiftly taking the reigns, and the shorter lunges â aiming right for Willâs shoulder. Willâs quick, though, and has his own spear poised to parry in an instant. Thereâs a barely perceptible nudge from Clarisse, and then Willâs eyes harden, and he lifts his spear to jab right back, needle-thin tip gleaming in the late afternoon sun, right for the chink in the charioteerâs armour and then â
The charioteer rips their helmet off, dropping it at their feet.
Itâs Harley.
Hephaestusâ darling; hell, the campâs darling. One of their youngest and brightest, with big, mischievous brown eyes, contagious smiles, endless enthusiasm. Cute, clumsy Harley, the only one of Hephaestusâ children Will doesnât have to nag to get treated, who walks dutifully over the infirmary every time he gets so much as a second-degree burn and treats each one of Willâs overcautious instructions with utmost seriousness. Who Will sends away each time with an affectionate kiss on the forehead and a prized purple sucker â who Will, frankly, favours. Who Will would never, in a million years, even consider hurting.
A dirty trick by the Hephaestus cabin.
But an effective one.
Immediately, Will flinches back, spear dropping from his hand and splintering under thundering hooves and spinning wheels. Without a second of hesitation, Harley launches his spear in the same move as before â sticking it in the wheelâs spokes, inertia sending the charioteerâs sprawling, knocking them out of the race.
Except, maybe itâs different when the chariots are so close. Or maybe the chariot was faulty to begin with. Because as soon as the spear gets wedged, the fragile floor of the chariot seems to implode â sending Will and Clarisse under the still-moving machine, instead of flying over. The horses, disoriented from the sudden change, rip free of their harness, adding more force to the already precarious tumble.
Thereâs a sharp, sickening crack, so loud Nico can hear it as if itâs next to him. In the brief nanosecond immediately afterwords, he closes his eyes, sending a prayer to his father: please be the axle. Please be the axle. Please be the axle.
As the Hephaestus and Hermes chariots rocket past the finish line, Clarisse lets out a shrill, blood-curdling scream.
âââ
Nicoâs off the bench and halfway towards the crashed chariot before he can blink. Heâs not the only one â he processes, barely, everyone elseâs quick convergence, including the remaining charioteers â but heâs there first, diving into the wreckage seconds before anyone else is close enough.
Thereâs not a lot of actual debris, chariots being as small as they are, but the dust cloud from the track is so huge and the pieces of wood are so splintered that it feels like there is. As the dust settles, and he kicks some debris out of the way, he starts to see the shape of Will, kneeling, in front of a prone Clarisse and an ever-growing pool of blood.
Thereâs a bone sticking straight out of her thigh.
As the rest of the campers converge upon them, Will looks up and meets Nicoâs eyes. His own blue eyes are dark, steely â determined, but afraid.
âI donât have time,â is the only thing out of his mouth before he braces both hands on Clarisseâs leg, immediately starting to sing urgent hymns.
Nico understands.
âLou, Julia, Chiara,â he barks, taking charge in absence of Willâs voice. The three girls snap forward to him immediately. âSprint the the infirmary and tell them what happened. Austinâs on duty â make sure he doesnât come with you, we need him to prep a surgical suite. Send everyone else and send them fast. Bring a stretcher.â
He turns to the Hephaestus kids. âJake, Harley, start clearing the debris to make space. Damien, join them; move the big stuff first, small stuff is secondary. We need a space for Will to work and a space to lay the stretcher. Jen, Butch, Lacy ââ
He barks off a list of orders, doing his best to channel the commands heâs watched Will give dozens and dozens of times. In minutes, he has the track cleared, Willâs medical bag dragged over from the stands, and everyone who is not helping stabilize out to the infirmary to help as needed.
As soon as thereâs an opening, he rushes over to Will and Clarisse, kneeling by her head.
âHelp is coming,â he promises, watching the glow dim and flicker in time with the rhythm of Willâs chanting. The bleeding has slowed, marginally, but he can tell from the volume of blood alone that this was an arterial hit. Itâs going to take more than Willâs raw healing power, although there is a lot of it, to keep Clarisse alive and keep her leg functioning in recovery. He needs tools, he needs nectar and ambrosia; he needs the surgery suite. He needs time.
âIs it helpful for me to knock her out?â
Clarisse, of course, is still conscious. Barely â and in so much pain Nico will be surprised if sheâs processing anything at all â but enough that every few seconds she lets out an agonised shout of pain, writhing and flinching so hard Will has to focus on steadying her as much as healing her.
Without breaking his song, eyes still trained on the injury, Will nods. Nico breathes, squaring his shoulders, then shuffled forward to rest Clarisseâs head gently in his lap, fingers pressed to her temples. He presses, hard enough to feel the beat of her heart â weak â through his fingertips, and squeezes his eyes shut.
Heâs no son of Hypnos, but dreams are the Underworldâs domain. Are his domain, as heir and prince of the Underworld, in every way that matters, that can be counted.
He lets himself sink into careful limbo; body in physical space, mind and soul elsewhere. Not too much â heâs no use if he falls unconscious â but enough to slip into Clarisseâs mindscape, step into her subconscious.
The whole place bleeds white, hot anguish.
Nico stumbles when he first walks in, nauseous despite being nothing but his own mind. Itâs been a while since heâs experienced this kind of pain, his own or not, and he has to consciously beat back memories of brimstone and rot; liquid fire, endless red, red, red.
âClarisse?â he calls, softly as he dares.
She doesnât respond. Heâs not sure she knows how to respond, even if she could. Cautious of the memory and emotion swirling around him, he steps forward. If he focuses, her anguish is pointed â is central. She will be at the centre of it.
He has volunteered, but heâs not sure he wants to follow.
Steeling himself, he shoulders through swirling masses of pain, of hurt, of fear. Itâs blisteringly hot, and feels not unlike the sandstorm he was once stranded within, in the middle of the New Mexico desert four years ago. His face prickles; heâs blinded.
He trudges forward.
âClarisse? Clarisse! Can you hear me? Itâs Nico!â
Desperately and uselessly, he wishes he had more practice. Will has offered, the few times heâs needed to anaesthetize someone, but for the most time Nico has foolishly declined. Why on Earth he would pass up a much easier mindscape to navigate through in preparation for something like this is a mystery to him. Fuck.
âClarisse! Try to â focus on me, can you hear me?â
He forces himself forward, a few more â well, thereâs no distance in a mindscape, nothing measurable, anyway. He forces himself to look up, braving the assault to his face, and try to scan his surroundings. The swirling mass is more centralized, now, almost hurricane-like and conal. Heâs closer than he was before, but if he can only findâŚ
He looks up, and almost cries in relief: weak against the roaring storm, but still present, is a flickering, golden light. A very familiar light. Nico squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting out his own energy in an uncoordinated mass â boy, is that going to be uncomfortable to extract later â and flails wildly until he finally feels the warmth of Willâs energy entangling with his own, grounding him. He opens his eyes, and suddenly everything is clearer.
Clarisse kneels in the centre of her mindscape, hands pressed tightly to her ears, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.
âHey,â Nico murmurs, kneeling in front of her. It takes a few seconds, and a few moments of gentle coaxing, before she looks up.
âIt hurts,â she croaks.
Sheâs more vulnerable than heâs ever seen her â eyes brown and big and wet, pained, face twisted and chin trembling and achingly, unbelievably young. She is nineteen years old, but in that moment she appears almost childlike. The years of warriorâs hardness has abandoned her; she is armourless.
Nico swallows the lump in his throat. âI know.â
âHelp me. Please.â
âCome here, Clarisse.â He reaches out and wraps a gentle hand around hers, tugging her close. The knee jerk discomfort at close contact is barely a flicker â he is so entwined in her right now that her fear has started to bleed into his; her rawness. He needs this comfort almost as much as she does. Right now she is a person, in agony, and so is he, and it is unbearable.
He holds her until the pain slowly stops.
âââ
Will is in the surgical suite for seven straight hours.
âBed,â Nico says softly, rising up to meet him as he exits. It says something about how exhausted he is that he doesnât even protest, letting Nico place a hand on the small of his back and guide him past the on-call room, past the patient cots, past the Big House living room couches, past Cabin 7. He leads him across the common and right into Cabin 13, with its double beds and blackout curtains, with its insulated, soundproof walls. With Nico.
He helps him out of his bloodstained scrubs, peeling them off his skin and tossing them directly into a trash can. Heâd guide him to the shower, usually, but thereâs a â glassiness, to his eyes, that there usually isnât after surgery. Nico chooses instead to skip it, guiding him into the sweatpants he left behind the last time he was here and an oversized The Doors t-shirt of Nicoâs, and then to the spare bed he always uses, across from Nicoâs. He peels the covers back for him like heâs a child, tucking him in, brushing the hair out of his eyes. Heâs asleep in minutes, curled tightly around a pillow, furrowed crease not leaving the space between his eyebrows, even in sleep. Nico smooths it away with his thumb.
âGoodnight, Will,â he murmurs, brushing the backs of his knuckles across his forehead.
He watches him sleep far past what is normal, and then slips back out of the cabin.
âââ
âOn the bright side,â Will says, squeezing the hand that has left to leave Clarisseâs arm, âyouâre free from your chariot race obligation! As am I!â
Predictably, she only glowers.
âNot a chance, Solace,â she rasps.
Will helpfully gets her a glass of water, fussing over her blankets while she drinks until she bats him away. Chris watches the whole thing with great amusement, shoulders brushing Nicoâs.
âHeâs a mother hen, isnât he,â he comments, tilting his head in Willâs direction, who narrowly avoids having his fingers bitten off trying to feed her a square of ambrosia.
Nico snorts. âYeah.â He watches the fussing for a few more seconds, making note of Willâs shaking hands, his shakier smile. âHeâs guilty.â
âHe didnât do anything. She doesnât blame him.â
Nico meets his dark look, mouth twisted in understanding. They both know this logic is futile.
âYeah, well, someone tell him that.â
âWill â stop it.â In a startlingly quick move for someone on as much morphine as she is, Clarisse darts out and clutches Willâs fluttering hands. He hesitates, wondering if itâs worth it to pull out of her hold and possibly jostle her leg. âIâm fine. And youâre still charioting.â
âYouâre not fine,â Will frowns, conveniently ignoring the part of the sentence he doesnât want to deal with. âYour femur snapped in half and tore through your femoral artery on its way out of your leg. Youâre going to be on bedrest for a week at least, and itâll be tender for a good long while besides. Thatâs what we in the medical business call a Big Fucking Deal.â
She tightens her hold, staring at him until he finally meets her eyes.
âWill.â She narrows her eyes. âYou are still participating in the chariot race. Iâm not asking.â
âItâll have to wait until youâre better,â he says lightly. âBesides, weâre focusing on you right now.â
Nico can see in her face when she decides to switch strategies.
âOkay,â she says, stubborn glean in her eye, âthen Iâm asking you, as a personal request, to stay in the race. Or else Iâll drag myself onto a goddamn horse myself, killing myself in the process, and that will be on your head.â
The tactic works.
Will scowls. âYou canât tell me what to do.â
Clarisse doesnât bother repeating herself, letting go of his wrists and readjusting her blankets.
âI am done talking now. I believe itâs time for morphine-induced unconsciousness. Please remember that I took down a drakon with my own bare hands; it is well within my abilities to drag myself out of heroin-haze and onto a chariot with no legs, let alone one. Good talk.â
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she leans back on her pillows and passes out. Genuinely, actually passes out â not closes her eyes, not behind to fall asleep; she is unconscious. Snores ring through the air.
âWell,â Chris says carefully, unfolding his arms. âIt might be time to let Clarisse rest for a while.â
Will, healer that he is, cannot exactly argue with that. Will, drama queen that he is, decides to make his fury known by stomping out of the room, a feat in flip-flips possible by him alone.
âShe is so infuriating!â he shouts the second theyâre in the main room, startling several people. He either doesnât notice or doesnât care. âI put effort in! I failed! She canât even â itâs not even about spending time together, obviously, since I still have to do it! What does she want from me?!â
Chris, like Nico, has wisely decided to let the hypothetical questions remain hypothetical and stay silent, lest his fury be turned onto them. Ten minutes into Willâs rant, Chris excuses himself to go sit by Clarisse. Nico waves him off.
âWill,â Nico suggests the next time he takes a breath, âletâs maybe go for a walk.â He glances at the group of wide-eyed patients. âI think youâre scaring people.â
Deflating, Will nods, following Nico out the door. âYeah. Yeah, letâs go for a walk.â
The fresh air probably doesnât fix things, per se, but as they lap around the cabins, Will seems to droop further and further, curling in on himself. The anger recedes from his features.
âI feel really shitty,â he admits softly. âJust, like, generally.â
Nico softens like a goddamn slab of ice cream on hot pavement. For the second time in three days, he opens his arms in offering, although this time itâs significantly less difficult.
âCome here.â
Without even a beat of hesitation, Will collapses into him, arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin. Nico fights the urge to wince â Will, usually, takes quite a bit of pride in his height. He likes to be the one to wrap around people, not the other way around. Nico has been indoctrinated into Will-affection, in the time since the Giant War, and if Will is the one curling into him, seeking comfort, than he is struggling.
Nico hates it when Will struggles. He always feels out of his depth.
âThere, there,â he hedges, feeling a good bit like an NPC. âItâll be okay.â
Will makes a small, wounded noise. âYou donât know that.â
âUm, yes I do, I know everything forever. Iâve never been wrong even one time in my life.â
His awkward attempt at lightening the mood is rewarded by Willâs laugh. Itâs slight, and nowhere near the brightness it usually is, but itâs there and itâs genuine and thatâs all Nico wanted, really.
âYou good?â Nico asks softly, squeezing his arms.
Will nods. âYes.â He hesitates. âCan I stay here a little longer?â
Nico wraps his arms impossibly tighter, aching at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.
âAs long as you need.â
âââ
The last practice before the chariot race is nowhere near as fun to watch as the others. In fact, itâs not fun at all.
Clarisse, casted and upright, appoints her brother Sherman to race in her place, much to both his and Willâs very vocal complaints. Willâs, because he still doesnât want to race at all and especially not now that Clarisse is out of the running, and Shermanâs because, well, when isnât Sherman complaining about having to breathe the same air as someone or whatever.
Clarisse silences both of them with a glare. âDo it,â she orders.
They comply, stomping over to their practice chariot.
The practice race is awful. Nico is surprised, frankly, that they managed to finish at all, as badly behind as they managed. He could practically hear their squabbling all the way from the stands. For as much as Will is generally easy to get along with, heâs impossible when heâs stubborn, and worse when heâs petulant. He takes every command from Sherman like itâs a personal offence, and Sherman, being who he is, does too. Every shout to veer right or deflect an attack somehow sounds like a jab at Willâs speed, or a remark about his general intelligence. When they stomp off the track, helmets thrown in a heap with the rickety chariot, Nico is almost relieved.
âWeâre going to lose, tomorrow, and I canât wait,â hisses Will darkly, fists curled at his sides.
Nico watches him warily. âYouâre not even going to try?â
âWhat, so he can remind me that even when Iâm trying Iâm a useless idiot? Not a chance.â
Nico has to almost jog to keep up with him, striding as powerfully as he is. Heâs not even sure where heâs going â he seems to be, mostly, going away from the track and from Sherman, wherever that may be.
âYouâre not a useless idiot,â Nico offers, when some of the stormcloud has lessened its hold on Willâs usually sunny face. âNobody thinks youâre a useless idiot.â
Will closes his eyes, sighing. âI know.â
âAnd Sherman is just a generally grouchy person.â
âI know.â
âIt feels very, very weird to be the optimistic and comforting one, right now.â
Will snorts, finally meeting his eyes. âI know.â He flops onto the ground, cheek resting in his knees, and pats the space next to him. Nico sits much more delicately. âIâm sorry Iâve been such an asshole lately.â
âYouâve been stressed,â Nico points out. âA little assholery is warranted.â
âIâm still sorry.â
Nico knocks their shoulders together. âI forgive you, then.â
Will smiles. âThank you.â
For a while they sit in comfortable silence, watching the hustle and bustle of camp. Willâs presence is a comforting one, even though Nico can feel the turmoil leeching off of him. Strangely because of that, actually â sometimes Nico feels like heâs the only one who struggles out of the two of them. Will spends so much of his time smiling and joking and lecturing, hands on his hips, that Nico had almost forgotten that he doesnât know what the hell heâs doing, either. Heâs just good at faking it.
âIâll be watching, tomorrow.â He bites his lip. âAnd I wonât, like, bring pom-poms, or anything, but Iâll be cheering you on.â
Will grins tiredly. âSilently and in your head?â
âUh-huh.â
His smile softens considerably, melting into something almost shy, before he turns back to face forward.
âWell, then, damn. I guess Iâll have to try.â
âââ
On the morning of the chariot race, Will acts like Nico is escorting him to his goddamn execution.
âIt is a race that will last a maximum of twenty minutes,â Nico says with no small amount of exasperation, âincluding prep time.â
Will looks no less grim. âA twenty minutes that will never be returned to me.â
Nico rolls his eyes and decides to stop humouring him.
He drops him off at his chariot with a quick pat on the shoulder, jogging back to the stands. Theyâre full, today, as expected, with every camper and countless others cramped into the minimal space. Nico looks at the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, and is about to consider breaking his promise and fleeing back to his cabin before he sees a doodled-on hand stick in the air, waving wildly. He exhales in relief and heads over to sit in the spot Kayla and Austin have cleared between them.
âHow miserable is he?â Kayla asks brightly, tapping her purple shoes. âHe left before we woke up this morning. Assumedly to sprint around camp a few times like a feral cat.â
âPretty miserable,â Nico answers. He reaches over to pat Austinâs head when he rests on his shoulder, knowing heâs nervous even if he tries not to show it. âA lot of it is self-induced, though. Like, yeah, Sherman is going to be a dick and itâs going to be stressful, but I feel like, in the grand scheme of things, this is among the least stressful things heâs ever been forced to deal with.â
âThere was that one time he had to remove a brain tumour in the middle of the forest,â Austin muses. âI think that was probably pretty stressful for him.â
Nico opens his mouth. He closes it again.
âDemigod life is a nightmare,â he settles on eventually.
âHear, hear,â both siblings mutter.
They lapse into silence as they turn back to the racetrack, evaluating the turnout.
Competition will be hefty.
Sherman has finally arrived, Ares horses in tow. The garish things look almost wrong next to the brightness off the flying Apollo chariot, but that may just be the tension between the teamâs charioteers thatâs so potent it seems to warp the air around them. Nico is vaguely surprised that theyâre managing to stand so civilly next to each other, even if they could not be more visibly uncomfortable. Will, at least, tries for a smile, which drops immediately when Sherman mutters something too quiet to be picked up this far.
Nico sighs. This is going to be hard to watch.
There are about twenty other chariots lines up. Hermes, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite-Iris, like at practice, but Athena is competing too, as well as Nike, as per usual, and Tyche. In fact Nico, and by extension Hades, is one of the few cabins not participating â everyone else seems primed and ready for a chance of laurels and extra dessert. And, of course, settling personal rivalries via bloodshed, et cetera, et cetera.
The biggest competition, if Nico had to quantify it, will be Hephaestus, tricky as they were during practice; Athena, for obvious reasons; and Will and Sherman themselves will be their own worst enemy. He canât tell if it would be better for them to fail out early to avoid racketing tension up further, or last close to the end to keep things at a healthy simmer.
In the end, it doesnât matter. The second warning whistle goes off, and the chariots rush to the starting line â Will and Sherman at third position, Demeter to their left, Dionysus-Hypnos to their right. The stands go silent, the charioteers get in position, and with a sharp, shrill whistle, theyâre off.
The first few seconds, as always, are chaotic.
In the ground with the settling dust are three separate chariots, including, surprisingly, Hermes, whose rigging backfired and sent their entire chariot up in smoke. They are luckily unharmed due to their unusually well-prepared fireproof armour, but neither Julia nor Connor seem too pleased about being out so soon.
The rest of the race continues on without them. Athena has a decent stretch of first place, but Nike is following fast. Behind them, barely a hairâs breadth of distance, is Will and Sherman, rocketing forward smoothly. Unlike Clarisse, Sherman does not care for giving Will any learning opportunities â despite the horses being Aresâ, Will is on the reigns. Sherman is armed with his sword and his spear, slashing and jabbing at anyone who gets too close. Neither Ares or Apollo is big on tricks, not like some of the craftier cabins, but together theyâre fast and strong and make a formidable opponent.
Or, well, they would. If they were working together, rather than two people simply being in the same chariot.
They cross into the second lap, Will guiding them across the innermost ring to move them up past Nike. Theyâre gaining on Athena, now, but that wonât be an easy task â challenging the campâs wisest never is.
Kayla hisses through her teeth. âShit.â She purses her lip at the trailing Nike chariot â theyâre gaining, and theyâre seething. Damien â at least Nico thinks itâs Damien, itâs hard to tell with the helmets â has an arsenal of throwing knives poised in his left hand, and as his teammate steers them steady, he takes aim. Nico has to resist the urge to shout a warning.
As the short knife sails towards the reigns wrapped around Willâs hands, though, aim ringing true, Willâs spine goes ramrod straight. Almost as if he can feel it. With an eighth of a second to spare, he shifts and jerks his hands out of the way, avoiding the knife and managing, somehow, to stay on track.
With a skill and ferocity that has Nicoâs jaw brushing his toes, Will dodges all eight of the knives lobbed in his direction. In one memorable manoeuvre, he rips his left hand from the reigns, holding them in his teeth, and uses it to shove Sherman down behind the wall of the chariot right before a knife would have lodged itself in his uncovered cheek. Out of weapons, he steers their chariot right next to Nike, allowing Sherman to sever their reigns and send them rolling to a sad, victory-less stop.
Without pausing to look behind them, they race on.
Athenaâs chariot has a lead, but their chariot is built for stability, not speed. Theyâve accounted for every possible sabotage and built accordingly. They have not accounted for, however, stubbornness and sheer force of Will. The Ares-Apollo chariot gains on them, helmets glinting, skeletal horses gaining faster, faster, faster. Both Sherman and Malcom, Nico believes, have their spears drawn, ready, as the space between them gets smaller and smaller, to fight barbarically for first â for honour.
Nico doubts even Rachel, powers of prophecy fully restored, could predict what happens next.
Either too furious to accept a loss or simply deciding to throw the game, one of the Nike charioteers crawls out from their carriage, darting onto the live track. They scan the ground, looking for something. When they stand in the dead centre of the track, body perfectly tense, gripping something glinting in their hand, Nico gets it.
Austin gasps, nails digging into Nicoâs arm. âOh, no.â
Before anyone can say anything, they take aim. They measure once, twice, and then let the knife loose with deadly precision, knife cutting through the air with ease and hurdling with impossible power towards to two finalists chariots.
If the knife hits the Athena chariot, it will slice clean through the axle. Architectural wonder it may be, the chariot cannot withstand Celestial bronze at terminal velocity, and it will give, and the chariot will crumple. In an effort to lesson the chariotâs load, the Athena charioteers have largely forgone armour. Their fall will be painful and disastrous; as deadly as Clarisseâs, if not moreso. A hit to the Ares-Apollo chariot will be similarly as race-ending, but both Will and Sherman are in full armour. It will be bruising, but not deadly. They will lose, but they will survive.
All they need to do to win is shift, just slightly, so that the knife hits the Athena chariot.
Will, like with all the others before it, seems to feel this knife coming. Unlike the others, he glances backwards, looking at the knife, looking back at the Athena chariot. Sherman follows his gaze, and seems to realize what Will has calculated a split second after he does. He shouts something â presumably an order to move, to shift, to sabotage.
Will hesitates.
The knife hits the Ares-Apollo chariot, slicing through the left wheel.
It careens around, unbalanced, dragged into a heap by untethered horses.
The Athena chariot pulls forward to victory, the remaining functioning chariots quickly following.
The Ares-Apollo canon is left broken and humiliated only a few feet from victory, the almost-first-place.
âââ
As soon as they come off the track, things get messy. Both Will and Sherman are covered in dirt and grime, striped with grease from the broken wheels, bleeding sluggishly from various scraps. Sherman has his non-flailing hand clamped to an oozing wound on the side of his neck, and Will is limping.
ââand I cannot fucking believe you, Solace! All I asked for was effort!â
âOh, forgive me,â Will says sarcastically, finally close enough to hear. âIn the hustle and bustle of being shot at, I made a couple errors.â
âThat gonna be your attitude in battle? âOh, sorry, there was a monster chasing me so I lost all focus âââ
âBattles are not usually fought on a chariot going a hundred fucking miles per hour!â
âThatâs no excuse! You need to be ââ
âWhat, Sherman, fucking what? What indisputable flaw do I have, oh great one, that needs to be so desperately remedied?â
Itâs startling when Willâs composure cracks. When he goes from bitey and sarcastic, eye-rolling from his usual distance, to right in Shermanâs face. Itâs eerie to see him at his full height, no slouching, reminding anyone watching that yeah, actually, their laidback medic is six-two, strong, capable, in more ways than what theyâre used to.
Sherman, in usual Ares kid fashion, doesnât even flinch.
âYour reflexes, for starters,â he says coolly. âNo matter what you do, Solace, youâre always one second too fucking late.â
A collective gasp ricochets through the gathered campers. The tension rackets up so rapidly that Nico coughs, lungs suddenly constricted. Will rears back so violently Nico is half-convinced Sherman actual punched him.
Sherman, for his part, seems to realise heâs crossed some kind of line. The cold look on his face twists into a scowl, uncomfortable and apologetic at once. âLook, Will, I just mean ââ
âYou donât get to say that to me.â
Willâs quiet voice seems to echo through the entirety of the valley, cutting through laboured breathing of charioteers, pegasus neighing, even the crashing of the waves in the distant shore â everything goes silent.
Nico likes to think he knows Will pretty well. He knows what he sounds like when heâs giggly, watching his siblings argue about nothing; when heâs excitable, rambling about his newest obsession; when he canât choose between amused and stern at whatever dumb thing Nico has gotten himself into. He knows what he sounds like when heâs exhausted, too, overworked and done with everything; when heâs annoyed, when heâs hurt and sad.
But heâs never heard Will sound so dangerous.
âOf all people.â His words are articulated, deliberate. The usual warmth of his eyes is gone. Heâs completely still in a way he never is outside of surgery â no shaking in his perpetually trembling hands, no bounce to his curls, none of the constant energy that seems to constantly exude off him. Still, cold. Icy. âYou do not get to talk to me about being one second too late.â
Sherman looks stricken. Guilt is written across each of his features, and for a second he steps back â as if afraid.
âWill, I ââ
The son of Apollo turns without another word, striding over to the distant tree line and disappearing into the woods. No one chases after him.
No one even moves.
âââ
Predictably, the silence does not last long.
âYou fucking idiot!â Clarisse explodes, the second Will is out of eyesight. She bats Chrisâs hand away from her, and he, surprisingly, lets her go easily â his usually understanding face has hardened. She hobbles towards her brother, remarkably quick with her clunky cast, and starts truly tearing into him. âI asked you to do one fucking thing! One!â
Sherman quickly gets defensive under the scrutiny. âWell, you didnât make it fucking easy! Just because heâs your protege doesnât mean heâs my fucking problem ââ
Nico doesnât stick around to listen to their argument. He searches around the gathered crowd until he meets Kaylaâs eyes, flicking his head towards the woods. She nods frantically. Knowing heâll make sure they have privacy, he takes off, aiming for the same place Will went, barely slowing down once he enters the forest.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
âWill?â he calls, well aware heâs not going to get an answer. âWhere are you?â
While thereâs definitely no response from Will, he damn near jumps out of his skin when a dryad melts from her tree, shuffling towards him.
âBlond boy?â she asks, leaning close so he can hear her whisper. âTall? Crying?â
Nico swallows. Fuck. âYeah.â
âHeaded down southeast, ways past Zeusâ fist.â
âThank you,â he says, hoping she understands how much he means it.
She nods, then disappears back into her tree.
Following her directions, Nico jogs down beaten paths, heading in the direction that he is vaguely sure is southeast and mostly praying that heâll find Will eventually. He shouldnât have that much of a head start, since Nico left maybe five minutes after he did, but who knows. Willâs fast, and sometimes this forest seems bigger than it really is. Itâs easy to get lost.
He searches for what feels like hours, and might actually be hours; sky darkening as the sun disappears into the lake. The temperature drops significantly. Nico is hoping that he wonât be spending the night sleeping in the dirt when he hears sniffling.
Heart pounding, he freezes, focusing on the sound. Itâs muffled, sobs choked-off and sound hidden behind cupped hands. The echo sounds strange, too; itâs close, that much is obvious, but Nico almost canât tell if itâs coming from the left or the right. Truthfully, it doesnât sound like either.
On impulse, he looks up. Almost invisible in the branches of a large oak tree is Will, stained clothes blending in with the scratchy bark, leaves covering the rest of him.
Except, perhaps fittingly, his bright, golden hair.
Worried that calling out to him might startle him right off the tree, Nico begins to climb. Heâs not great at climbing â he doesnât have a natural sense of what is and isnât a good foothold â but oak trees are easy. Every half-step has a branch, and this tree is old enough that the branches are thick, sturdy. Heâs twenty feet up before he even realizes, barely breaking a sweat.
He pauses a few feet shy of his target, straightening until heâs standing on an almost flat branch, arm looped tightly around the trunk.
âWill.â
Will startles. He looks around frantically, struggling in the dark, until his bloodshot eyes finally land on Nico. He bursts into more tears, shoulders shaking as he sobs.
Alarmed, Nico crawls all the way up.
âWoah, Will, breathe, vita, breathe ââ
Heâs not sure what tree-sobbing etiquette is, but regular sobbing etiquette often involves some kind of comforting physical touch, so he goes with that. And Will, he knows, likes to be crowded, likes to be almost suffocated with the sights and touch and smells of other people, to remind him heâs not alone, even if he feels it. So Nico scoots as closely as he dares, legs wrapped around the branch, and slides one arm around Willâs back, one against his chest, and tugs him closely.
Will comes easily.
With a bit of manoeuvring, heâs tucked under Nicoâs chin, shoulders hunched and shaking, enveloped entirely in Nicoâs arms. He can feel a wet spot growing on his left sleeve, and honestly he should be at least a little bit disgusted, but he barely even notices. Heâs too busy fighting the lump in his own throat, blinking back his own tears.
âItâs gonna be okay,â he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Willâs curls. âLet it out, Will. Youâre allowed.â
Will wails, a deep, choking, broken sound, and Nico loses the battle with his own tears. Heâs never heard Will like this. Heâs never heard anyone like this, except himself, in the echo of this same forest, years ago. It hurts like biting ice.
âIt hurts, theyâre gone, theyâre gone, and I hate them, I hate them so much ââ he heaves, dragging in breath like it cost him to say it, like part of his soul was dragged out of his vocal chords â âand I hate myself for hating them, I hate, theyâre gone, Iâm never ââ
He dissolves into sobs, again, words breaking into nothing understandable, crying around the same repetitions over and over again. Nico hides his crumpling face in Willâs hair, wincing at every broken cry, every hitched breath, every moaned word. His heart feels like itâs breaking into a million fractals. Heâs never felt so out of depth in his life.
âLet it out,â he whispers again, for a lack of anything else to say. âLet it out, sweetheart, let it out.â
For a long time, Nico had no one to hold him.
When he lost Bianca, he was by himself. And when he thought he had someone to guide him, someone to fix him, he was wrong â he was vulnerable and easy to manipulate. He had no one to hold him until he was too bitter and too closed off to let himself fall apart, anyway, and losing Bianca stayed somewhere rotten inside him, a bruise that never, ever stopped aching.
Until Will.
Last December he had cracked like an egg. He hadnât meant to â it wasnât even in the back of his mind â but heâd opened the door to Willâs smiling face on the morning, cold and sad as it was, and just started bawling. Some part of him, some deep, buried part, stomped itâs way from the prison Nico had kept it in and took the hell over, yanking open the floodgates, forcing him to expel every last drop of shadowy, strangling pain that had stayed inside him so long. He thought he was going to die. His entire body shook and jerked like a rowboat in a deep ocean storm, and it had been Willâs lighthouse, his endless, light eyes, his warm hands, his firm hold that had held him steady until heâd dragged himself out to the other side. It was and is the most painful thing heâd ever done in his life. And the most important.
He doesnât think Will has had anyone to hold him, before, either. Not âtil right this moment. Not Chiron, not his mother, and certainly not an older sibling. Will has been running on empty for as long as Nico has known him. Longer.
âLet it out,â Nico whispers again, and holds him tighter.
âââ
By the time either of them move again, itâs pale, early morning, and theyâre damp from the dew and Willâs tears. Nico is as stiff as the tree heâs sitting on, but doesnât dare say a word about it.
âI donât want to go back,â Will croaks, the first either of them have spoken in hours.
Nico tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, resting a gentle hand on his cheek. âOkay.â
âWe canât stay here forever.â
âWe can stay a while.â Nico pulls away slightly, just enough so that he can cradle Willâs face in both hands, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. âI mean it, Will. As long as you need.â
âWhat if Iâll never have enough time?â
âThen Iâll stay with you until time runs out.â He presses a tentative, careful kiss to the centre of his freckled forehead; staying when Will shudders, leaning into it. Against his skin, he murmurs, âBut youâll have enough time, vita. Youâre the strongest person I know.â
âI donât want to be strong.â
âSo donât, I gotcha.â He presses another kiss slightly above the first, and another, resting again at the crown of his head. âBut you can be.â
They stay like that until Nicoâs face starts to go numb, and even then he doesnât go far, shifting so his cheek lays on the top of Willâs skull. He ignores the slight tickle of his curls against his nose, focusing instead on the brand of his hands on his waist, the shakey but constant inhales, holds, exhales, again, again, again.
âClarisse is my friend,â Will starts. âShe was as important to me as â as Cass, before the war.â
Nico hums. âBut she betrayed you.â
âAll of us.â
âAnd you resent her for it, a little.â
Will nods. âItâs disgusting.â
âItâs human, Will, Christ.â He moves them around so theyâre both sitting facing each other, Nicoâs eyes firmly meeting Willâs. âI will never fully forgive Percy for letting Bianca die. Never. Itâs not fair to him, and I love him anyway, and I am choosing to move past it. But I will carry that burden. Am I disgusting for that?â
Will glances away. âNo.â
âWill, you â look at me.â
He does.
âClarisse actively chose her pride over her people. So did the rest of her cabin. Sheâs not fully responsible for that choice, and the blame, as always, lands on Kronosâ shoulders, but ââ Nico laughs, a bitter, defeated sound. âOut of all of us, you lost the most. No one lost as many as Apollo. No one burned as many shrouds. Youâre allowed to be hurt, allowed to be angry.â
âI forgave them,â Will admits. âI did it publicly and called off the stupid rivalry right after the war. It was the first thing I did as head counsellor.â
âTrying to do what Michael would have done?â
âAre you kidding me, he ââ Will scoffs, swiping at the tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. âIf Michael were alive, and he found out I forgave them after what happened to Lee, too Diana â he would have been furious. He would stop speaking to me. If I was trying to be like Michael, I mightâve refused them treatment.â
Nico tries to imagine that for a second â Will refusing anyone treatment. It makes something sour uncurl in his stomach, something unsettling.
âYou would never refuse someone treatment. I didnât even â I didnât think you guys were allowed.â
Will shrugs. âThere are no rules to our practice. I just never made refusal an option, and the kids are too young to know any different.â
âThe kidsâ â as if Kayla and Austin arenât as old or older than Will was when he was in charge, when he held the bashed pieces of his brotherâs brain as it oozed out of his skull. As he sat, exhausted, hands shaking, next to Nico, and embroidered twelve shrouds. As if Yan and Gracie are his, rather than Apolloâs.
âYou forgave them so your siblings wouldnât grow up bitter,â Nico realises. âOh, gods, Will.â
He shrugs again, picking at his nails. âFor me too. Grudges arenât healthy.â He tries for a teasing smile. âYouâd know.â
âI would.â Nico tries to smile back. Itâs easier than he thought it would be, although it fades back into something serious quickly. He reaches out, linking his hands with Willâs to stop him picking before he bleeds. âYou can be selfish sometimes, you know.â
âNot in front of anyone.â
âYouâre admitting it in front of me,â Nico points out.
Will hesitates. âThatâs â different.â
âHow?â
âYou get it.â He looks down, voice quiet. âYou get me. I can ââ He meets Nicoâs eyes again, a kind of helpless smile on his face. âI dunno. Youâre safe. Youâre okay with me, even when Iâm ugly.â
âEven then,â Nico echoes quietly. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Willâs ear again, even though none were loose. His fingertips linger, and the skin under his touch warms. âEspecially then.â
âYou can, too, you know, I lo ââ
âI know.â
Will exhales in relief. âGood.â
He slumps forward until his forehead rests on the swell of Nicoâs shoulder, breaths warming the air between them. Nico tries to match his rhythm â in, out, in, out. Hold. Out, in.
âCan we â hide here, for a little bit? Just a little longer.â
âOf course,â Nico murmurs, squeezing his wrists. âIâll hide you as long as you need.â
#HOLY SHIT THIS OVERTOOK MY ENTIRE LIFE FOR LIKE SEVEN HOURS#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#hoo#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#nico di angelo#will solace#nico di angelo & will solace#nico di angelo/will solace#will/nico#nico/will#will solace angst#will solace & clarisse larue#character study#angst and humor#longpost#solangelo#my writing#angry will solace#and righteously so#is this a nico study disguised as a will study or a will study disguised as a nico study?#who knows#not me
697 notes
¡
View notes
Text
sirius black x girlfriend!reader who doesn't give up on him even when he gives up on himself
You had always heard stories about Sirius Blackâthe heartthrob, the prankster, the arrogant Gryffindor with a wild charm that girls swooned over and boys admired. But that wasn't the Sirius you had come to know. No, the real Sirius was so much more than the façade he wore like armor. He was fragile in ways people couldn't see. He apologized when he dropped a plate, even though you never cared. He flinched when someone raised their voice, his dark eyes clouding with memories he never spoke about.
The nightmares⌠oh, those were the worst. You'd wake to find him trembling, his breaths uneven, soaked in cold sweat as he mumbled Regulusâs nameâhis brother who haunted him even in his dreams. Youâd hold him through it, tracing circles on his back, murmuring soft reassurances until he fell back asleep. But you knew deep down, the nightmares never truly ended.
Sirius was envious, too, though he'd never admit it out loud. You could see it in the way he looked at James, his best friend who had the perfect life. A loving girlfriend, doting parents who would never lay a hand on him, a family that cherished him for exactly who he was. It was the kind of life Sirius had been denied, and every time James flashed that easy smile, Sirius would clench his jaw, just for a second. You could see the flicker of jealousy cross his face, and it broke your heart.
Tonight was one of those nights. He had barely spoken to you all day, his walls higher than usual, and now he was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the floor. The shadows in the room seemed to stretch toward him, enveloping him in a darkness you desperately wanted to pull him out of.
You cautiously sat beside him, the air between you thick with tension. "Sirius?" you asked softly, not sure how to approach the storm brewing inside him.
He didnât look at you, didnât even acknowledge you were there. His fingers were digging into his palms, white-knuckled, as if he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.
"Sirius, please talk to me."
âI can never do anything right, can I?â he muttered, his voice low, almost detached.
You blinked, caught off guard. âWhat are you talking about?â
His eyes finally met yours, and the pain there was so raw it made your chest tighten. âEverything I touch, I ruin. My family, Regulus, even you⌠youâre better off without me.â
âThatâs not trueââ
âIt is true!â His voice cracked, frustration leaking into every syllable. He shot up from the couch, pacing the room like a caged animal. âJames has everything! Heâs got the perfect bloody life, and I canât even keep my own brother from hating me!â
You stood, stepping toward him, but he recoiled, his expression a twisted mix of anger and hurt.
âIâm a mess, love. I donât deserve you. You should be with someone who doesnâtââ he gestured wildly to himself, ââcome with all this baggage. Someone who doesnât drag you into their nightmares.â
Your heart ached seeing him like this, so vulnerable, yet trying so hard to push you away. "I won't ever give up on you, I promise."
He scoffed bitterly, running a hand through his tangled hair. "That's funny, cause I gave up on myself a long time ago."
You swallowed the lump in your throat, refusing to let the tears blur your vision. âWell, I havenât. And Iâm not going to. So, stop trying to push me away.â
He let out a hollow laugh, his back turned to you. âIâm just tired⌠Iâm tired of pretending like everythingâs fine when itâs not. Iâm tired of being this broken thing you feel like you have to fix.â
âI donât think youâre broken.â
He turned to face you, disbelief written all over his face. âHow can you even say that? Look at me! My own parents hated me, theyââ His voice wavered, and for the briefest moment, you saw the scared boy beneath the bravado. âThey hit me because I wasnât enough. And maybe they were right. Maybe Iâm just⌠a disappointment.â
You stepped forward, your hands trembling as you reached for him. "If you're letting this hurt you, you're just making them win. Don't give them that power, Sirius. You're better than that."
He shook his head, tears brimming in his stormy gray eyes. "I canât help it. Every time I think Iâm over it, it all comes rushing back. And Iâ" His voice cracked, and he looked away, ashamed. "I don't want to drag you down with me."
"Youâre not dragging me down," you whispered, your hand gently cupping his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "Youâre hurting, and thatâs okay. Iâm here for you, Sirius, always. But you have to let me in."
His breath hitched as he leaned into your touch, his defenses crumbling piece by piece. "I donât know how," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
You pulled him into your arms, holding him tightly as if you could physically keep the pieces of him from shattering. "I wonât ever let you go," you murmured into his hair. "You donât have to be perfect, Sirius. Youâre enough, just as you are."
For the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself cry. His body shook against yours, all the weight he had been carrying finally too heavy to bear alone. You held him through it, not saying a word, just letting him fall apart in your arms because you knew he needed this. He needed to know that no matter how broken he felt, you would never leave.
And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to start healing the wounds that had been carved into his heart for so long.
224 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Youâre All I Have
Masterlist
JJ Maybank x reader
Summary: you are JJs best friend whoâs not John B or Pope and he always comes to you when something happens.
A/N: loosely based of the scene of Luke and JJ in the show
Word count: 567
Warnings: parental abuse, gun, kissing, angst, fluff at the end of
JJ bursts through the door of your small shack, the wood rattling as he steps in. Youâre just a mile down the road from him and it seems trouble had found him again. Youâre sitting on the couch with a textbook in your lap, trying to make use of a rare day off, but the sudden commotion jerks your attention his way. You canât see his face clearly; his head is down, and his whole frame is shaking. He paces, muttering something under his breath.
You set your book aside and jump up, reaching out. âJJ? Whatâs going on?â He swats your hands away, but you know he means no harmâjust caught in the whirlwind of whatever just happened. You reach out again, dodging his attempts to push you back, and finally manage to hold his face in your hands. âTalk to me, J. Please.â
He raises his head, and your heart drops at the sight. His face is bloodied and bruised. âDamn it, again?â You pull him to the couch, guiding him down gently. Without another word, you rush to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. Back at his side, you open it up and start tending to his injuries, every movement practiced, almost automatic now.
âWe were arguingâsame as usual,â he mumbles, voice thick with frustration. âBut this time, it was my fault. I threw the first punch, knowing heâd just take me down. Itâs always my fault.â
âJ, donât say that,â you whisper, dabbing a cut on his cheek. âYou donât deserve this.â Your fingers gesture lightly over his bruised face, reminding him of his worth.
He begins to cry, the tears spilling over as he speaks through them. âWhen he went outside, I saw my chance. I shoved him down the stairs, hard, and when he fell, I⌠I held it to his head. I wanted to so bad, you have no idea.â
Your heart stops as you watch him reach into his back pocket, pulling out a gun. He grips it tightly, his other hand pressing against his forehead in anguish.
âI couldnât do it. I should haveâI shouldâve killed him,â he chokes out. Youâre frozen in shock but manage to reach out slowly, taking the gun from his hand and setting it firmly on the coffee table. Then you go back to work, focusing on him, the pain written on his face and in his voice.
âJJ, your life would be better without that man,â you say, refusing to even speak the manâs name. âBut I know you. You did the right thing. Because no matter how much you hate him, youâd hate yourself even more if you did something like that. You are not a killer.â
You finish cleaning him up, cupping his cheeks in your hands. âYouâre broken, sure. But youâre better than him, better than all this. You may not believe it, but I do. Youâre kind, youâre selfless, and youâre the strongest person I know.â
He looks up, his eyes glassy. âYou really think that?â
âI do.â His hands come up to cover yours as he leans in, and his lips meet yours softly, lingering. Itâs not rushed or intenseâjust a tender, reassuring moment. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours, a small, hopeful smile on his face.
âMaybe I can believe in myself a little if you do.â
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank one shot#jj maybank angst#jj maybank fluff#outer banks#outer banks jj#jj obx#jj outer banks#jj maybank obx#jj maybank outer banks#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x pogue!reader#my works â¨
269 notes
¡
View notes
Text
i want to have a 'friend', my roommate, convince me to get top surgery which keeps all my nipple sensitivity and bottom surgery that keeps my cock all small and sensitive and keeps my hole to 'avoid complications in surgery'. i'm so breedable right now that i have to be on oestrogen blockers and i want her to tell me to switch to the pill so i get all nice and round and plump.
then i want her to convince me that if i have a pussy still, and i can't get pregnant from it, it should be fine for her to use it? after all she's done for me. it's such a small thing, letting her use my pussy if i'm not even using it myself, and we're just friends, it's not weird. she does all the washing up so it's fair.
so she starts fucking me with her huge cock and it's so much and i'm so sensitive and i don't want to like it but all the hormones make my brain all swimmy and my cock all twitchy and i cum on her girlcock every time and hope she doesn't notice. i get all whimpery and whiny when she stuffs me and i just say it's because i'm uncomfortable but it's because it's so so good and i hate it so much.
she starts fucking me all day and night. if i'm doing work on my laptop she'll just pick me up and sit me back down on her cock and tell me to keep going. if i'm in the kitchen to make breakfast she'll ask if i don't mind awfully if she could get some help with her morning wood and she'll gently but firmly press me over the counter and stuff me so so full.
her friends come over and she casually brings up that i still have a pussy and they all ask for a go, and when i'm uncertain, they say that it's not fair that i get a pussy when they don't (they're all women) and the least i could do is let them fuck me and they're so firm and they push so hard that i just let them to avoid conflict. then they just keep casually talking to each other about nothing in particular like magic the gathering whilst wrecking me with their girlcocks. at one point one of them points out one of their cocks is making my tummy bulge each thrust and they record it and show the girl thrusting into me and they laugh or call it cute and i turn pink with embarrassment. of course i'm left with cum leaking out of me.
eventually she doesn't stop there. she knows i'm a breeding boy, and she's made me into a breeding cockslut. she swaps my birth control for a fertility med with aphrodisiac side effects and of course doesn't tell me. she leaves me to stir for a few days, getting plumper and more sensitive. my nipples feel teased by any clothes i wear. my cock is hard all of the time. she packs my schedule which exhausts me so i never have a second to touch myself.
after four days of being constantly teased and tortured, i break. all my objections are overcome by need and she's already fucking me anyway so what's the harm in asking if she'd like to do it now? and so i ask her if maybe she could fuck me. she probes me with questions and she makes me tell her that i enjoy it, that i cum on her cock every time, that i'm constantly moaning in pleasure when she's inside me. she makes me agree that i feel empty without it, that i'm desperate to please her and be stuffed with cum.
she makes me prove how much i love her cock, and i'm just so needy and desperate that i'd do anything. she makes me suck her off, and it's so so humiliating. she makes me watch her as i bounce my mouth on her cock. it's so thick and just a fraction of it fills my mouth all the way up and tears start spilling from my eyes. she calls me pathetic, that i'm so desperate for cock that i'd suck off my best friend, and that i must just be a total cockslut. she says i can't think of anything other than cock and being stuffed. she gets bored with my weak attempts and starts fucking my throat. she says that pleasing women is what i'm for, and that it's just uncomfortable because i'm not used to it, and once i understand my true purpose it'll get easier.
she doesn't cum in my throat. she forces it out, dripping with my saliva and her precum, and makes me beg her to breed me. i didn't think that she was being serious - i haven't been fertile in years - so i comply and plead with my fogged-up mind for her to cum inside of me and that i'll be good for her and that she can use me whenever she likes and i don't mind. i don't know or care about what i'm saying, i'm just saying anything to have her inside me. i'm too swimmy to think about anything but her cock.
she pulls out her phone and tells me to look up to the camera and say that i need her to breed me full. and i do, just not having enough brain to think about how foolish i was being. and she says i'll take you at your word, and finally, finally, she bends me over. she leaves her phone recording us but i don't notice. she rubs the tip of her cock against my opening and tells me how wet i am for her and how much of a pathetic slut i am. how she bets i can't think of anything other than cock. how she thinks that it's probably all i'm good for. it's torturous, her tip just so so close to what i need, and she just keeps teasing me. i just⌠adjust my angle, to make penetration easier for her, and she laughs at me for presenting myself, and how i'm just a dumb cockslut, and how she doesn't think there's much brain in there anymore. that i'm basically just a toy for her and her friends to pass around each other, and that i wouldn't mind. she says that they're going to fill me up with cum soooo nicely. that they'll take care of me so well. that my womb will be bulging with cum. that it's what my slutty body was made for: being bred over and over.
i'm squirming on her cock, desperate for her, but she's pinning my hips firmly to the bed and i just can't get it in me and i need it so much and i'm crying a little and i just start moaning please over and over. and she just looks at me and smiles and pets my hair and says, alright boytoy, and she pushes all the way inside me at once and i just. break. and then she starts thrusting and oh my god nothing has ever ever felt this good and she knows it and she asks me doesn't this feel nice and that this is what it could be like every day and i could just be a toy for women to use as they like. she tells me that i'm made for being bred. she grabs my thighs and my ass and tells me how they're all plump and lush and that's the way of nature telling everyone that i'm breedable and she's touching me all over and telling me how sensitive i am and how i wouldn't be so sensitive if i wasn't made to be touched like this. and i'm moaning so much that she can just assume that i agree with every word she says. and i can't think but i know it feels so good and that i need it so so so much and everything she says can be true as long as she never stops ever because nothing else will ever compare.
but i'm wrong. she tells me to beg her for her cum. i let out a string of pleases and moans and she gives me a spank and says properly. and i try so hard to concentrate and say that it'll feel really nice and i want it so much and she's right about everything and that i need it and i'm built for it and please please please. she makes me call her mistress, and i'm so deep in that i don't think about the fact that she's my best friend and we've been friends for years and i'm going to swap all of that to be her cockdrunk toy. and i just say please, mistress, please give me your cum, i need it, i need you, please, i'm so so desperate for it, i can't, i can't do anything but think about it, i'll do anything just please please please come inside of me.
this seems to, just about, satisfy her. she calls me her pathetic cuntboy, and that she'll fix me the cuntboy i was always meant to be. and she starts touching my cocklet and my nipples and i'm so so so close and she's going so fast and i can't and my whole body is overcome with pleasure. my cock is all pink and twitching and leaking and her fingers are magical. and then, pistoning in and out of me, she cums all the way inside me, filling me up, and it's the greatest moment of my life so far and it's so much and it's everything. and i cum but i don't even really notice.
she gives me a kiss on the forehead and tells me that i've done so so well for her, and that i'm going to make such a good toy and be so useful for the community. little do i know that she's planning to use me as an incubator for lesbian couples struggling with fertility so after a month of being fertilised she plans to take out the embryo from me and breed me again. i'm just a breeding machine to her. and she owns me, and that much i already know.
#t4t breeding#t4t nsft#transfem supremacy#manipulation kink#n0nc0n#intox kink#intox cnc#transfem superiority#ftm breeding#breeding k1nk#submisive and breedable#ftm sub
587 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Jealousy part 2
Part 1 here part 3 here
Warnings: age gap/toxic behavior
Vernestra-Padawan reader/jedi Qimir
I lied. Or rather, I had some ideas while I was writing, so instead of three parts, there will probably be four. Nothing is certain, but... you have been warned.
Leave a comment and share if you are enjoying the story.
I can't say exactly when things started to change. Maybe they were never normal from the beginning, but I was too distracted to see it, blinded by this lie that I childishly told myself.
The more comfortable I felt with Qimir, the worse his relationship with Vernestra became, to the point where in the naivety of my young age, I thought it was my fault, but in truth, I couldn't even see the problem.
I had learned to recognize my master's moods very early on. I understood before even talking to her if she was nervous because of some diplomatic mission or worse. Sometimes I was left to myself for entire days, i knew her missions were very important and that I would only slow her down, but all I could do was read and train with other padawans and read again and... do nothing.
So, while I daydreamed about the magnificent future missions with my master... I spent time with Qimir.
Of course, he was busy too, but I eagerly awaited his return each time. He would tell me what he did, who he met on his travels, the fights to the last breath, and, he was good at narrating them. He often came to see me in the library, where he would put on a silent show due to the librarian's constant admonishments, using books as pieces of the story and his lightsaber to represent himself. I laughed so much that my cheeks hurt, I used my hands to muffle the louder sounds, and Qimir seemed to love every moment of it. Sometimes, I wondered if he didn't deliberately behave insanely on missions just to tell me about it when we would meet.
The months passed quickly. After about a year as a padawan, I began to distinguish between what I was good at and what I was terrible at. For example, I was great at controlling the Force, but terrible at using the sword. Not because I wasn't good from a technical standpoint, but more for a mental reason, the idea of hurting someone paralyzed me. I wanted to be a Jedi who protected the weak, but I had missed the part where, if you're protecting them, it's because someone is hurting them, someone who probably should be stopped even with the use of force.
Worse still, I was terrified of my master's weapon, the whip seemed so unpredictable to control, yet she used it with deadly precision and wanted me to try it too. She believed my fear was natural for a young mind, that I just needed to unlock myself, but for me, it wasn't like that.
And it got worse when I sought comfort in Qimir.
Maybe, in hindsight, I should have realized something, but it's easy to talk when the worst has already happened. I remember very well what happened that evening, I was exhausted after all the sword training. Vernestra didn't seem particularly happy with my outburst a few hours earlier when I tried to say that maybe I wasn't suited to be a knight, that I could have pushed myself into the medical field or even just be an assistant, maybe a volunteer in war zones. She thought I was speaking without knowing anything, pushing me all afternoon to train in various forms. My hands hurt from calluses, but instead of running to the infirmary, I decided to knock on Qimir's room.
"I don't understand why she doesn't want to accept it. I... don't want to hurt anyone." I broke the tense silence that had formed while Qimir wrapped my fingers with the bandages he had in the bathroom.
"No one said you have to. You're a Jedi, our job is to fight for those in need." He was focused on looking at my fingers, so he didn't notice the grimace I gave him, "And I understand that. But I don't feel suited for that role. Many Jedi perform different duties, fighting isn't essential for everyone." He sighed a laugh.
"I think Vernestra is worried about your safety, it's okay to seek your vocation elsewhere, but our faith leads us to interact with dangerous environments, even the most peaceful mission could hide a terrible evil." He finished the bandaging, then gently took my hands in his, the warmth of his palms a pleasant consolation to the painful throbbing of the blisters that filled my fingers.
He looked at me again with a sad smile on his lips, "I understand that you feel sure of what you want. But, flower, you're still a child. And you have many years ahead of you before you face the final exam, you don't know what will happen or if you will change your mind, don't take what you feel for granted." I blushed foolishly at the nickname he had started calling me some time ago, something about how "I seemed delicate like a flower".
"I know, but... don't you think lightsabers are terrifying?" I stuttered uncertainly, looking into his eyes.
And that moment. That single instant when he gave me that sweet smile, I shivered.
"That's what makes them so beautiful, right?"
I didn't have an answer, maybe yes, but I wouldn't have had the courage to tell him at the moment. I only know that I swallowed a bitter bite and freed myself from his grip, a heavy breath escaping my mouth, "I have to go, thanks for the bandages," I got up quickly and fled from that room as if I had someone on my heels.
That shiver down my spine, that rancid smell at my nose, I couldn't imagine it at the time, but that was the first time I felt fear.
Of course, I blamed myself entirely, I was exaggerating, everyone said so, I was terrified of violence in a way not suitable for the role I was supposed to fill in the future, I should have recovered quickly and restarted my training. I tried to forget that evening, as I had gradually forgotten that conversation on Hoth, but that was just the beginning.
The missions with Qimir keeping us company decreased over time, sometimes he just stopped by for a greeting or joined us more to keep me company if he had a free moment. I really appreciated the time together, I liked that we could remain silent without making it seem strange, once on Naboo he showed me almost the whole city since he had already visited it before. We got ice cream overlooking a lake in complete silence, the sunset was spectacular, and with the light sounds of the forest accompanying us, I fell asleep with my face pressed against his side.
The next morning, I found myself in my room with his cloak as a blanket since I was still dressed. When I tried to return it, he teased me, saying I had slipped on the ground when I pressed against him. I yelled at him that he was rude to tell me that, but only because I didn't have the courage to admit that I found it hilarious. If I had given him rope, he would have teased me about it for months.
When I was finally old enough to accompany the master on some of her more dangerous missions, my opinion on weapons had not changed, but I had made peace with myself and decided to find my combat style.
I was proud of how I built my lightsaber, but I had to modify it when I implemented the double-sided exit to have a double-bladed saber. It made me feel safer using it, more protected, and it was a more versatile weapon, especially for more enemies. So, once I got used to using it combined with a defensive fighting style, I finally felt complete.
On the field, I rarely used the lightsaber, trusting more in my control of the Force to block my opponents and stun them. I knew Vernestra was not entirely happy with how I restrained myself, but I tried to excel in everything else, hoping it was enough.
On a return trip to Coruscant, both wounded and tired, we talked once again about the problem that had arisen when it was needed.
What was supposed to be a quiet afternoon defending senators had turned into a nightmare when a bomb exploded at the meeting place, civilians fleeing in terror, and only a Jedi and a padawan handling the dozen terrorists shooting at the crowd.
The situation obviously got out of hand, and we survived by a miracle. Before calling the council to let them know what had happened, seeing me still so shaken, Vernestra hugged me.
I clung to her robe, barely holding back tears, the memory of all the wounded passing under my eyes still fresh, but she grabbed my shoulders, and looking at me with a determined face, she said, "You did well. I am proud of you."
A few minutes later, when we could finally sit down, I had the courage to speak.
"I killed them. It was so..." I was looking at the blue of hyperspace around us, lost in my thoughts, I don't know if I was talking more to myself or to her.
"You did what was necessary. On other occasions, we could have captured them, but we were at a disadvantage. Sometimes, to save lives, you have to make drastic choices," her tone always confident, as if it were all normal, and technically it was, for her.
I no longer knew what I was doing at that point.
"I know, but... my hands..." were shaking. They shaking even then, in the peace of our shuttle. I held onto the armrests tightly as if I were afraid of falling.
"Maybe Qimir is right."
I turned suddenly, confused, hearing his name mentioned out of nowhere. She sighed before looking at me again, "He thinks it would do you good to train with him a bit. He has been suggesting it to me for a while..." she cleared her throat before looking away.
"Maybe dealing with a more aggressive combat style like his would help you unlock. I know you two have become friends, and... he is much better than me at making you feel comfortable. He might be more helpful than I am."
I was taken aback, more by the fact that Qimir had suggested something like that without letting me know anything. It gave me a strange, somewhat unpleasant feeling that I couldn't quite identify.
But still, my problems at the moment were different, so I nodded. I already felt guilty enough for hesitating in the face of danger. Despite the comforting words, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I had failed.
âJust⌠be careful, okay?â
The look he gave me is one I would never forget. That⌠knowing glint deep in his eyes, like a warning bell. But I ignored it.
I nodded, but I ignored it.
When we got home, she headed towards the council room to submit her report. She advised me to go rest since it was already evening, but after saying goodbye to her, I quickly walked down the Jedi corridor. I had been injured and was limping slightly, the next day, I could get myself healed quickly by a healer using the Force, but at that moment, it was a different kind of pain tormenting me.
I knocked hard on Qimir's door without even thinking about it, two, three times before I heard some commotion on the other side, bare footsteps approaching the door before it opened.
âI hope you have a good reason for knocking on my door at this hourââ he mumbled sleepily, his hair messy and wearing only a pair of sweatpants. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, confused, when I jumped into his arms.
My face pressed against his warm chest, and the tears I had been holding back until then started to fall relentlessly, accompanied by a few sobs.
He woke up suddenly, understanding what was happening. He effortlessly picked me up before entering the room and shutting the door behind him. âHey, hey, my sweet flower, what's wrong?â he whispered in my ear, now fully awake.
I hid my face in his neck while he hugged me tightly, my legs hanging down the sides of his hips, my tears wetting the skin of his chest as I tried to stammer out coherent words.
I had never felt so small until that night, hidden in his arms. Although his cheerful personality made him seem childish at times, I tended to forget that we were a little over ten years apart, we didnât really share anything except our loyalty to the Order and the same master, but we werenât the same age, and we didnât even have similar hobbies. We⌠he treated me like a little sister with absent parents.
I had run off to seek the safest comfort I knew, and he had given it to me without a second's protest.
He listened to my tear-flavored words without saying anything, his fingers brushing through my hair, partly caressing my scalp. He held me against his chest tighter when my sobs were too much to utter even a single syllable. He didnât say anything when I was done, had me take off my shoes and most of my dirty tunic, and then lay down in bed with me.
I was pressed between the wall and his warm body, one arm on my side, and the covers wrapped around me like a cocoon.
The next day, still comfortably pressed against his chest, I took a moment to sort out my thoughts. I was ashamed of having lost my composure like that, i shouldnât have fallen victim to fear, so I slipped away at dawn to avoid facing him. We never talked about what happened, I didnât have much to say anyway and went back to focusing on my studies.
A few days later, Vernestra came to tell me she would be away to resolve the conflict that had arisen after that attack and that I was entrusted to Qimir as she had mentioned. I had already forgotten about that story, but it all came flooding back when we said goodbye on the platform. Her hesitant look as she stopped halfway up the ramp. I saw her sigh, maintaining a stoic expression before coming back to me one last time. âTrust your instincts, Padawan. If something makes you uncomfortable or⌠you just leave, got it? Youâre still too young for certain matters.â
I didnât have time to ask her what she was referring to, she boarded the ship right after and left, leaving me there with questions on the tip of my tongue.
Qimir sought me out soon after. I was hiding in the library every afternoon, hoping not to run into him and avoid training, but of course, it didnât last long. With his usual light smile and calm demeanor, he approached me one morning, âAre you perhaps skipping your training, Padawan?â he asked, mimicking an authoritative tone.
I couldnât even laugh. In the end, I gave in. I had promised my master, and the fear I felt that afternoon still gave me nightmares, so I followed him into the training room.
Fighting Qimir was like facing a hurricane, seemingly chaotic but, in reality, a perfectly concentrated deadly force of nature. I was used to exhausting rhythms, so I didnât find it difficult, but what destabilized me was his gaze. It seemed like he really wanted to kill me.
Fast and lethal with his double violet lightsabers, he often aimed at my legs to make me fall and gain an advantage over me. I squirmed uneasily under that assault, of course, that was the goal of that training, but⌠there was a cold wind behind him. A suffocating sensation, a chill on my skin that made me doubt who or what I was facing.
Vernestra was away for just under a month, during which I trained with Qimir when I wasnât studying. One of the last training sessions was grueling. I began to doubt he wanted to take it easy on me from the beginning, we clashed forcefully -with our lightsabers- because âitâs needed to keep you sharp â as if the strikes he aimed at me werenât enough to keep me alert.
A particularly painful strike to the thigh made me fall heavily to the ground, the fabric of my robe smoking from the slash. When I looked up at him, now disarmed, I almost vomited. Those eyes⌠now I could recognize them. The eyes of a killer. The same as those men that afternoon weeks before who had charged into the crowd.
I fled the room, took a shower, and went to bed without dinner. I was sure I was going insane. I was tired and nervous and seeing things that werenât there. I tried to shake off that voice in my head that screamed at me to be careful with Qimir, the guilt clashing with the fear. I tried to bury it all once again, deeper and further away.
And so my routine returned to normal once everything was back to how it was before, and the master had returned, although⌠I had started to avoid Qimir. It wasnât that I was running away from him, it was more like a need for personal space, letâs say. Luckily, he was sent on a mission, but he wrote to me almost every evening with messages about his goals, to which I replied with monosyllables. He realized something was wrong, but when he asked me how I was or if something had happened, I dodged the question.
During a mission in the Outer Rim, I was able to indirectly spy on a call between Vernestra and Qimir. She was scolding him for some unspecified decision, but it was the final warning that made me waver. âYouâre losing your composure lately. Leave the mission and return to Coruscant to meditate on your choices.â My breath stopped when I heard him shouting through the holopad. I couldnât quite make out the words, but he was complaining about the poor results of the missions or something like that. I swallowed down that memory too. It had been an outburst due to a tense situation, it could happen. I had to stop thinking about it.
Shared missions completely disappeared. Qimir and I only saw each other to spend time together. One evening, he took me to dinner in a somewhat shabby place with the promise that I could bring my fellow Padawans there when we were older. The light conversation at the table was pleasant before silence surrounded us.
âIâm sorry we see each other less lately,â he finally sighed after dessert.
I shrugged, relaxed. âWell, we have our duties. And I need to keep studying.â I thought I had given a satisfactory answer, but he looked more frowned than before. âItâs unfair. I want a Padawan too.â
I chuckled at the thought. âI think you need a few more years for that.â But he didnât laugh, instead, he⌠stared at me in a way I couldnât decipher. âWhy do you say that? Youâre growing well.â
I frowned at the answer. âQimir, Iâm Vernestraâs Padawan. No offense, but itâs she whoâs raising me,â I maintained a smile that he didnât share. âYou spend more time with me than with her.â
I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. I wanted to tell him that it was normal since we were friends, but that had little to do with the conversation we had started. To tell him that, as good as he was, he still struggled to act like a real authoritative figure suitable for a young boy who needs to learn the Jedi way, but⌠of course, I said nothing.
I didnât feel like it. That conversation died just as it had begun.
It seemed that as time went by, that cheerful air around him faded. Maybe it was the maturity I was gaining that woke me up from that waking dream I was living. I recognized certain expressions or glances better, those smiles that once warmed my heart now had a bitter aftertaste. I began to wonder if something had been wrong from the start. Sometimes those strange warnings from Vernestra or those fragments of memories where I had seen him in a different light, more sinister, would come back to me.
So, I made a decision.
It was better to put some distance between the two of us, maybe growing up, I would be able to face him better, understand what was going through his head, and once matured, I would be able to help him as he helped me.
I donât know if that decision was the straw that broke the camelâs back, if it was something inevitable that had already begun, or if there was no escape. Looking back at everything that happened, the mistakes had started much earlier, but how much blame did I truly deserve?
I was young, naive, it wasnât my job to see beyond the veil of lies, beyond the Jedi, beyond the Force.
I wouldnât have been able to recognize the dark side under those circumstances.
And in fact, I didnât recognize it until it was too late.
And there it was, right in front of me, taking my breath away.
148 notes
¡
View notes
Text
here, have a little modern steddie meet-cute. meet-ugly, maybe? idk. 1k words, mostly dialogue
"uber for, uh," the guy in the beemer at the curb looks at the phone in his hand, "eddie m.?"
"hey, that's my name!" eddie shouts, stumbling toward the car. the world is tipping sideways a little, but it's been a good night.
he wrenches open the passenger side door and slides in.
"cool if i sit up front, man? i get motion sickness sitting in the back, and you would not like me when i'm motion sick."
"uh, sure?"
eddie pulls the door closed behind him and says, "so what's your name, pretty boy?"
"you don't check the app before getting into some random guy's car?" the guy asks with a huff.
"oh, no, i never order these things for myself." eddie laughs. he tries to think back, remember how many jameson shots he put back tonight. can't. oh, well. "my roommate always sets it up beforehand when i come down to the styx for a show."
"a show? like a concert?"
"uh, no. drag show. styx is a gay bar." the guy's quiet at that. "that a problem? still dunno your name."
"oh. steve," the guy - steve - says shortly. "no, it just... looks more like a... metal bar, or something."
"sometimes things are both, can you believe it! they do a drag show last wednesday of every month. good show tonight, all the girls looked great." he kicks his feet up on the dashboard of the car, watches steve's eyes cut sideways at them as he does. "do you like drag shows, steve?"
he's testing the waters, feeling steve out to see if he should be worried about getting into some random guy's car outisde a gay bar with a dead phone. eddie's definitely had a little too much tonight. he's probably got glitter in his hair. there's definitely black lipstick smeared across his cheek from when allison chaynz planted one on him earlier during her set.
"only been to a few, but yeah. they're a good time. good show."
safe, then. tentatively.
eddie studies steve for a moment, trying to figure him out. he's got this thing he does sometimes, in an uber; eddie's an easy read - he gets into an uber and the driver immediately flips their spotify over to a metal playlist.
the driver's are usually easy to read too, and it's eddie's favorite game; he tends to know when he's got a country boy behind the wheel, or an emo transplant from the mid aughts, or the indie girlies with their iced coffees and perpetual dark undereye circles that all the concealer in the world can't hide.
the guy looks like he wears teenage boy deodorant and smells like repressed trauma. he has the indie girlie dark circles under his eyes, an apple watch strapped to his wrist. rich boy. drives a beemer. good hair, stupid highlights. there's a tube of burt's bees cherry lip balm in the center console and a days old energy drink in the cupholder.
"hmmm, the front bottoms," he decides at last, after staring at steve for what must have been an uncomfortably long time.
"i'm sorry?"
"i said, the front bottoms."
"is that a... what's the word... a euphemism?"
"no, steeeeve. it's a band. check 'em out sometime, your daddy issues'll thank you. do you like music, steve?"
"sure."
eddie clicks his tongue. "smells like bullshit. no one who likes music says sure when someone asks if they like music."
they're stopped at a stoplight. from behind the wheel, steve is studying him right back, looking him up and down, his gaze coming to rest once again on eddie's shoes on the dash.
"get your feet down," steve says, pushing at eddie's shins. "do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"
"fine, fine. so if you don't listen to music, steve, what do you listen to in this fancy bmw?"
"sports, mostly," steve shrugs. "podcasts sometimes."
"oh, boy, you are a walking red flag, aren't you? shame you're so pretty."
"well what about you? what do you listen to?"
"guess."
"i dunno, probably that metal shit. five finger whatever, or something."
eddie presses his hand to his chest. "five finger - oh, stevie, i am wounded. i wouldn't be caught dead listening to bro rock."
out of the corner of his eye, he definitely catches a smile from steve.
steve holds an aux cable out to him. "here, then. wow me. show me some real metal or whatever."
"god, i'd love to take you up on that," eddie says, huffing out a little laugh. he holds his phone up. "this sucker's been dead for hours."
this time steve's the one to click his tongue. "shame."
"truly. so what's your story, steven? what's got you out at three in the morning?"
"it's my night off," steve shrugs. "just started night shift at the hospital, trying to get used to the new sleep schedule."
"mmm, the hospital. you a nurse?"
"i am. trauma nurse."
"nice. ever see any gnarly injuries?"
"had a pretty fucked up dog bite come in the other night."
"shit."
"yeah." another stoplight, another unsubtle once over from steve. "so what about you? what do you do?"
"line cook."
steve's eyes linger on him a little longer than necessary. "oh, but i'm the walking red flag. got it."
"whoa," eddie laughs. "what's that supposed to mean?"
"i've dated line cooks. everyone's dated a line cook."
"sounds like something a slut would say, steve. craziest dick you've ever had, huh?"
"mmm."
it's not a denial.
they're getting close to eddie's building now, and that's an actual shame. because steve's cute. he needs a haircut maybe, and the stubble around his mouth and chin is just on the wrong side of five o'clock shadow, but he's got these distracting little moles along his face and neck and arm that eddie's been itching to play connect the dots with since he got in the car.
"wait, i know this building," steve says as he slows at the curb and looks at the address on his phone again. "my roommate's girlfriend lives in this building."
it clicks into place, then, for eddie.
"oh, shit! you're robin's steve!"
steve's eyebrows draw together as he gapes at eddie, and then his eyes go wide with realization. "chrissy's ed?"
"eddie," he corrects. "gotta be a level twenty friend to call me ed. and chrissy's the only level twenty friend i'll ever have."
"noted. good to finally meet you, man. i, uh. i guess this is you, then, huh?"
"yeah, sure is. maybe i'll see ya around." eddie goes to get out of the car.
"oh, you will," steve says, his smile lopsided and goofy. "i'll make sure of it."
"hold ya to it," eddie promises with a wink.
steve wiggles his fingers in a flirtatious wave as eddie walks backward on the sidewalk toward his building.
so robin's steve is cute. maybe he should have been letting chrissy set them up this whole time.
still. sports and podcasts. guy's a walking red flag. who knows, maybe they're green. eddie's never been able to see the difference anyway.
#steddie#steddie fic#bee's blurbs#idk what this is honestly#it came to me in a vision#buckingham#if you squint
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Weaponized Incompetence
âDo you know how to cleanâ
Part 1
Pairing : John Price x Reader
John and you are going through a rough patch , one that may not be solvable
John is going to win his wife back. How? He doesnât know but it will be done. He loves you with all his heart and he hasnât been showing it in the best way. He put you on the back burning , a constant always in his life that he didnât nurture or pet. Never stimulated. Didnât think he needed too. Thinking paying the bills, having money, and not cheating was enough to be a good husband. (It wasnât).
Price has been cleaning all day, trying to make things right. He brought flowers for the house. Vacuumed every room , mopped the kitchen and bathroom and started laundry.
He thought he had a great day, so he decided to take leave for the next three weeks. He hasnât told you yet but he thinks that you will be excited.
Thatâs not the case.
When you step into the house, Price is standing at the door waiting for your reaction, if you have any at all.
Looking around and then seeing his face and looking likes heâs waiting for something, âWhatâs going on ?â , you say with a little chuckle.
âI cleaned upâ , he says, lifting his arms up and turning his body in a look around motion.
âOhâŚwhat did you clean up?â , you ask, starting to walk around the house.
âI vacuumed, mopped and started the laundryâ.
âDid you put down carpet freshener?â
âNoâ
âWhat did you use to mop?â.
âJust waterâ.
âDid you separate the clothes by light and dark?â.
âNoâ.
John looks up and sees you just exasperated and shaking your head.
âI honestly donât know why Iâm surprisedâ, you walk over to the washing machine and stop it, pulling out a light pink shirt that you know is for sure supposed to be white.
âJohn, you basically just pushed dirt around when you mop with just soap you know that rightâ, you start getting the mop bucket out with soap.
He thinks thatâs found a solution , âmaybe if you write me a l-â, he stops talking when you whip your neck and stare at him.
âAre you a child or an adult?â, you ask.
âAn adultâ, he answers.
âIâm not making you a list to clean, you're in the military, you should know how to cleanâŚdo you know how to clean?â, you turn off the water and turn your whole body towards him., âare you going to answer the question?â
John clears his throat,âyes, I know how to cleanâ, he doesnât understand why you are so angry. He thinks that he did a lot for you today, shit almost everyday he does a lot for you and you being angry at him and not telling him why is starting to grate his nerves.
âWhat did I do to youâ, he snaps, âbecause you are angry at me and I donât understand whyâ
âI guess itâs because you act like a child and Iâm tired of itâ, you snap back.
âI heard what you said to your friend over the phone, do you actually feel like that?â, he ask, moving closer to you. He doesnât want to argue with you. He wants to be better for you. He wants you to want him not because of convenience , but because you love him.
âAm I tired of cleaning of your shit, shit that I have AKSED you multiple times to clean upâŚ.?â, you answer him.
You start to cry, an angry frustrated cry , âI work too you know , Iâm tired all the time, and when I get home from work and see nasty dip bottles on the floor I get frustrated.â , you start to mop , like you donât want him to see you cry.
âI remember asking you to clean up the bottle, to not leave it just laying around, you said okay, do you remember thatâ, you look up at him with raised eyebrows. He nods his head because he does remember that, actually he remembers all the times youâve asked to not leave the dip bottles everywhere.
âIn my head, I told myself that this would be the last time I ask you to clean up after yourself, and the next week a fucking dip bottle sitting right along side the couchâ, you let a self deprecating chuckle.
âIâm doneâ, you say with such finality. It scares him that he wonât be able to get you back.
129 notes
¡
View notes