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pedroacrossthestreet · 11 months ago

Text

Curiouser and Curiouser

Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

18+. Pegging. Squirting. Sex toys. Reader is bi. No use of y/n.

Word count: 9.3k

Notes:

It's been years since I've written anything, and even longer since I posted something; be gentle with me.

I've read and re-read this thing a hundred times, but I've never written in second-person, and very rarely written het before, so apologies. Also, I'm not from the US. Please ignore any Britishisms that might've slipped in!

I know that real person fic gives some people the ick but I couldn't make the scenario fit any of Pedro's characters.

This is very much a fictionalised version of Pedro based on his comment in this interview about making out with people when he's drunk. And then I spiralled. Because I'm unstable.

I don't work for Womanizer. I just think everyone with a clit should own one.

There was a small gap in the curtains you had drawn hastily the night before which allowed a sliver of morning sunlight to shine directly onto your face. You groaned slightly and slid your legs across the bed sheets, stretching as you tried to turn away from the intrusion. Slowly, you opened your eyes, and were met with the sight of Pedro’s broad shoulders.

He was still asleep, his bare back to you as he laid on his side. You turned your head and stretched an arm out to your bedside table to tap your phone, discovering that you’d woken up naturally ten minutes before your alarm was due to go off.

Sitting up on your elbows, you looked again toward Pedro, thinking about how this would be the last time you’d get to indulge in these quiet moments before he left again for another long stretch. You couldn't resist reaching out to run a hand over his shoulder, placing a gentle kiss to his skin as he breathed deeply in his sleep.

Knowing how lightly he slept, you took your time to ease out from your bed so as not to disturb him. Once you’d unplugged your phone, you took it with you as you quietly shuffled out of your bedroom and down the hallway. You found some clean clothes from the dryer that you hadn’t gotten around to putting away, and cobbled together an outfit before grabbing your keys and slipping out of your apartment.

Pedro’s eyes snapped open as your front door clicked shut behind you. He glanced up, taking a moment to assess his surroundings before rolling onto his back. Your bed was smaller than his, so he took advantage of the fact that he could now starfish across your sheets, rather than clinging to the edge as he had been for most of the night. He stroked his hand across your side of the bed, feeling the lingering warmth from your body before sighing heavily. He was reluctant to get up, but knew that he didn’t have much time. It was almost as if he was convincing himself that if he refused to leave your bed then time didn’t exist, and he wouldn’t have to get on a plane in a few hours.

After several minutes, he began to wonder how long it’d be before you were back. It wasn’t usual for him to sleep in longer than you, and he didn’t know what to do with himself left alone in your apartment. He stared at the ceiling for a few more moments before summoning up a sudden burst of energy to get out of bed, stumbling towards your dresser to pick over the trinkets on top of it that you’d collected over the years.

There was a small ceramic dish which held your favourite jewellery, the pieces he saw you wear most regularly, simple silver rings and a necklace with a star shaped pendant. He picked up a perfume bottle shaped like a heart, taking the lid off of it to smell its fragrance, reminding him instantly of you. Replacing the cap, he put the bottle back, turning to look at a small pot which held pens and a little rainbow flag. He recognised it from the Pride event you’d both attended with friends in June, and he smiled as he remembered how much fun that had been.

It wasn’t long before curiosity got the better of him, however, and before he could stop himself, he opened the top drawer and delved further into the cabinet.

—

You hated coffee. Always had, and always would do. No matter how many times people told you it was an acquired taste and that you’d get used to it. You never understood the logic of continuing to try something that you didn’t like in the vague hope that you might change your mind.

And for what? So you could stand in line at Starbucks with everyone else, throwing away money, chasing after your fix?

You couldn’t help but smirk and shake your head as that’s exactly where you found yourself, waiting your turn to place an order for Pedro, and to pick up some pastries for the two of you. You figured you’d treat him to a decent leaving breakfast considering all you had in your cupboards was cereal and some dubious milk in the fridge.

You knew his coffee order enough to recite it but not to know what it meant. Years of being a production runner had given you an ability to remember complex orders after many a pigheaded man in a higher up position designated the coffee run a part of your daily duties. When you’d met Pedro on set almost five years ago, his order was enough to raise your eyebrows, knowing the usual number of “shots” most people wanted to realise that his was excessive to say the least.

You figured that’s why he always made fun of you for not having a coffee maker at your apartment. He couldn’t fathom an existence without coffee.

While you waited for the barista to prepare his drink, you remembered the way he’d looked at you in fake disgust the first time he’d visited and you had dared to offer him instant coffee. You didn’t drink it, but you were a good host who always had at least something to offer friends.

As you made your way out of the Starbucks and back onto the street, you held the takeaway cup with the paper bag of pastries in your right hand, checking your watch as you made it back to your apartment. You’d managed to beat the morning rush and had only been gone ten minutes so far. Still, you hastened your pace as you walked the few blocks back to your building to make sure that you could wake Pedro in time before he had to leave. Once you’d made it onto your street, you fished in your hoodie pocket for your keys, juggling the coffee and pastries as you unlocked the main door, holding it open wide enough with your hip to slip into the foyer, and using your elbow to push the elevator button.

You made a conscious effort to enter the apartment as quietly as you’d left, assuming Pedro would still be in bed. Placing his coffee and the pastries on the kitchen counter along with your keys, you kicked your shoes off before padding your way down the hallway.

The colour drained from your face once you’d rounded the corner to see Pedro stood in nothing but his boxers in front of your dresser. Your stomach dropped, and your voice caught in your throat, not wanting to believe what you were seeing.

“W-What are you doing?!”

Pedro jumped, swearing under his breath as he turned to look at the doorway. “Jesus. You scared the shit out of me…” He knew he should feel guilty, but he couldn't help the smirk tugging at his lips, despite the fact that he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The cookie jar, in this instance, being your underwear drawer, which he had pulled all the way out. You felt sick as you raked your eyes over the clothing that had been strategically arranged around your stash but was now out of place.

“What does this do?”

You watched in horror as he held up a small, oval device. When your eyes met his, he raised a quizzical eyebrow, and you realised he was waiting for a response.

“I… it’s…” You stumbled, mind racing too quickly for you to think of a reasonable explanation. You half considered trying to pass off your Womanizer as some new skin care tool for cleaning out pores, but your eyes flickered down to see he’d already uncovered the other, more phallic, shaped toys that couldn’t be explained away.

You suddenly found your voice as your face flushed red from embarrassment and anger all at the same time. “I can’t believe you snooped through my stuff!” You said through gritted teeth. “I left you alone for five minutes!”

Pedro held up his hands as best as he could, protesting his innocence, but he was still holding the god-damn toy. “I wasn’t snooping! I was looking for something!”

“Oh yeah?” You growled, suddenly urging your feet to move as you closed the gap between you, “And what, exactly, were you looking for in my underwear drawer?!”

It was Pedro’s turn to blush this time, and he bowed his head slightly to avoid your glare. He gently let his hands drop and delicately placed the toy back in the drawer as he mumbled guiltily, “Y-your underwear…”

An unbelieving laugh escaped your lips, a sharp puff of air. “You were gunna steal my underwear?!”

Pedro nodded slightly, his blush deepening before he forced himself to look back at you. The hands that were once holding all your dirty secrets came up to cup your face. “I’m sorry! I just… I’m gunna be away for a long time and… and I wanted to take some with me…”

You hated yourself for it, but you couldn’t help the way you weakened whenever he looked at you with those eyes. When he started to rub his thumbs over your cheekbones, your shoulders began to relax instinctively.

“You could have just asked…” You sighed. “Pervert.”

He smiled at that, leaning forward to kiss you quickly. “Oh, I’m the pervert?” He asked, turning back to your drawers and pointedly tilting his head toward your collection, going back to rummage further.

“Shut up!” You whined, slapping his arm. “I’ve been single for years, I’m allowed to have some fun…” Grumbling when he didn't stop, you tried desperately to grab for him, but he held you at bay with one arm, pulling something else out from under your clothes and holding it up high with his other hand.

“And what, pray tell, is this?!”

Your cheeks burned bright red, your face hotter than it had ever been before in your life. He dangled a harness from his index finger, spinning it around obnoxiously, inspecting every piece of leather as the buckles glistened as it turned.

“It’s nothing!” Suddenly, you were scrambling to reach across him, but he was still intent on figuring it out.

“Is… Is this for a strap-on…?”

You barely heard him because your ears were burning with shame. You growled and took a determined leap to snatch the harness from his grip, shoving it back into your drawer and doing your best to cover all your secrets before slamming it shut. You manoeuvred yourself in front of the cabinet and pushed Pedro’s chest so he took a step back, crossing your arms defiantly.

“For that, you don’t get any of my underwear.”

—

Pedro left your apartment with his tail between his legs that day. You’d softened slightly after he’d apologised profusely, but you still wouldn’t relinquish any of your underwear as a form of punishment.

Once he was dressed, you’d handed him the coffee you’d gone to get him especially, not that you deserve it, but you’d still snaked your arms around his waist and rested your head against his shoulder as you both hugged goodbye. It’d be at least six weeks before he’d be back in your life again. He had a few hours to get back to his apartment, pack his bags, hand his keys to the dog sitter, and then make his way to the airport.

Pedro spent the whole flight thinking about that harness in your underwear drawer.

His palms itched as he tried desperately to focus on the inflight entertainment. It was no use, though, and the urge to open google and begin researching was overwhelming as soon as he landed.

Once settled in the hotel room that would be his home for the next month and half, he did just that, opening up a private browsing window on his laptop and tentatively typing the word pegging.

He’d never considered you to be a particularly dominant person, but then the pair of you had only been having sex for less than a year. You had both been the token single friends amongst your circle for all the years you’d known each other. Neither of you had been looking for, or wanting a partner, for various different reasons, and so when everyone else was coupling up and having babies, you could always rely on each other for dinner and drinks.

Pedro had always been a flirt, it was what made him so loveable to everyone. He had a way of making everyone he spoke to feel good about themselves, and the fact that he was more than willing to indulge in friendly make out sessions with his friends, no strings attached, made him all the more attractive. It was exactly what you wanted from a relationship, kissing being the thing you missed most about being single. For several years you had both been more than content to share those transient moments when the alcohol had been flowing, leaving you both warm and sated before going your separate ways, calling it a night.

More recently, things had progressed further between you both, probably because you’d decided to share a takeaway rather than go out one night. It was far too easy to drink more in the comfort of a friend’s apartment, and neither of you had wanted to say goodnight once you’d climbed into his lap to kiss him deeper.

And so, you both made an unspoken arrangement with each other. You were still friends, but friends who made out, and friends who sometimes had sex. Given his schedule, the times you did manage to see each other were few and far between, and even less frequently were the nights when you ended up in each other’s beds.

Pedro considered that because of that, maybe there were some kinks you were holding back, or didn’t yet feel comfortable enough to share.

But the more websites he curiously browsed depicted versions of women which seemed to be extreme, almost a complete contrast to your personality. They were clad in PVC and brandishing what could only be described as weapons of torture. He struggled to imagine you in such a get up, but it did stir something in his belly.

—

Not even halfway through his trip, Pedro did what he’d been doing for almost two decades whenever he needed advice and he’d called Oscar.

“I’m supposed to be reading a script that I’ve been putting off for days,” Oscar said when Pedro asked him what he’d been up to. “Elvira took the kids to the park to make sure I didn’t have any excuse not to read it but…”

“But you're playing your guitar?” Pedro smirked as his friend trailed off.

Oscar looked down at the guitar in his lap and plucked a string softly with his spare hand before silencing it with a flat palm over the frets. “You know me too well.”

Pedro laughed, but it was a short laugh. He rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to decide how to tackle the reason he called. He started to think that he probably should have thought this through.

“So. What’s bothering you?” Oscar interrupted his thoughts.

He knew Pedro too well, also.

“I just wanted to ask you something…” Pedro began.

“Yeah…?” Oscar probed gently, putting his guitar down and settling in for what he knew was going to be an evasive ramble before Pedro got to the point.

“Have you ever… Uh… So you know how sometimes a guy will… enjoy… a bit of… ass play?” Pedro winced, swallowing hard before continuing. “Like, how sometimes a girl will be going down on a guy. And they, y’know… Like, put a finger in them? The guy, I mean? And it feels good?”

Pedro’s cheeks burned and he was glad that he at least had the sense to have this conversation on the phone rather than having to deal with the awkwardness of his best friend looking at him.

Oscar just smirked, “I’ve heard of it.”

Pedro could have sworn he could hear the shit-eating grin on the other end of the line.

“I mean, yeah! That’s what I’ve heard too.” He cringed, rubbing the heel of his hand over his forehead as he tried not to die from shame.

“Hermano… What exactly are you trying to ask me?” Oscar sighed, knowing that he didn’t have much time for this kind of conversation on a Sunday afternoon.

Pedro swallowed hard, groaning slightly. “Have you ever… y’know? Tried that? Or… or more…?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow and paused as he tried to imagine what the ‘more’ could be. He shook his head after a few moments of silence, realising that Pedro was hanging on a knife-edge waiting for his response. “I had a girlfriend try it once, but there was no pre-warning and it kind of put me off the whole idea, if I’m honest.”

Pedro sighed, feeling slightly deflated. “Yeah. I get that…” He’d never admit it, but that wasn’t the answer he’d wanted to hear.

Oscar waited patiently to see if Pedro wanted to elaborate further, knowing that sometimes just leaving the space for him to talk was all that he needed to feel comfortable.

“I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have called.” Pedro said abruptly as he’d sat up straighter, preparing to end the conversation.

“Don’t be stupid,” Oscar cut him off before he started to spiral, “You know you can always talk to me about stuff. Hypothetical or not.”

Pedro smiled and thanked his friend, feeling himself begin to relax again.

“So… When do I get to meet her?”

Pedro tried his best to keep his composure, stunned by Oscar’s bluntness. “W-What do you mean?”

Oscar laughed freely, easing the tension in Pedro’s shoulders. “You’re as subtle as a tonne of bricks, Pedrito.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about…”

Oscar rolled his eyes, “Whatever. Look, if she’s willing to talk these things through with you, and you’re curious, then there’s no harm in… experimenting.”

Pedro smiled, remembering just why he always turned to Oscar with any issues in life. He always did have a way of reassuring him. “Thanks, man…”

“You’re welcome. Just promise me one thing… Make sure you have a safe word.”

Pedro groaned, “Fuck off, man…” But he couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he shook his head.

“What’s her name?” Oscar asked suddenly, and then it was Pedro’s turn to smirk.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…”

—

You were escaping work early when your phone rang, vibrating in your back pocket as you got to your car. You opened up the driver’s side door and threw your bag onto the passenger seat before fishing your phone out and smiling when you saw who was calling.

“Hey, Pedro,” You answered, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself grinning stupidly. You slid into your car and shut the door. There was no one else in the parking lot but you still felt the need to hide and give yourself some privacy. “How was your flight?”

“Long,” He sighed on the other end of the line. You could hear the airport tannoys in the background, and he sounded slightly out of breath. He must’ve literally just got out of baggage claim, not even waiting to get out of the airport before calling you. You bit your lip, trying not to think about what that could mean.

“Listen… I’m gunna head back to mine and get a few hours sleep but… if you wanna come over later then we could order in?” He sounded distracted, and the paranoia began to settle into your brain.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, quietly, and Pedro just hummed in response, doing little to reassure you.

He’s looking for his driver. You told yourself. That’s why he’s distant.

“O-Okay.” You mumbled, picking at the hem of your blouse as you suddenly felt stupid. “Well. Just… Lemme know when you’re free…”

“Will do,” He said, and then the line went dead.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and stared at the blank screen for a few seconds before shaking your head. You mentally reprimanded yourself, both for being so thrilled that he called, and simultaneously for being so self conscious that you’d let your mind wander to the worst case scenario.

Placing your phone into your purse, you sat up straight as you put your key in the ignition. The song you were listening to when you parked broke the silence of your car, and you tried your best to lose yourself in the music, making your way back home to nervously wait for Pedro to contact you later.

—

The elevator ride up to his apartment had been awful. No matter how many times you told yourself to calm the fuck down throughout the course of the afternoon, your pulse had spiked once you were finally on your way to see Pedro for the first time in six weeks.

He never usually wanted to see you so soon after a work trip. The pair of you had sent a few casual texts back and forth while he had been gone, normally just funny anecdotes that you thought the other would appreciate. You’d assumed that you would see him next at an event, or when your mutual friend group congregated to catch up like usual, but this time was different.

What if something had happened?

For all you knew, Pedro could have had several different ‘yous’ in multiple cities across the world. Neither of you had ever discussed exclusivity, and just because he was the only person you were sleeping with didn’t mean that he wasn’t exhausting his (admittedly vastly more expansive) options.

What if he’d met someone and your little arrangement was about to come to an end?

The elevator dinged as it got to his floor, and you let out a shaky breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in before forcing yourself to move.

Once you were stood in front of his door, you knocked in what you hoped was a nonchalant way, if that was even a thing, and listened intently as you heard movement, footsteps getting closer, and then the door opened.

If you’d been worried before, seeing Pedro's face was enough to calm your nerves. His eyes lit up as he looked you up and down, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Hi,” You said shyly.

“Hi,” He breathed back, giving you a lop-sided grin, leaning against his door to invite you in. That gesture alone was enough to give you the confidence you needed to take a step toward him.

“Hi…” You mumbled again, stupidly, daring to place your hands flat on his chest before leaning up to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

The giggle that fell from him spread warmth across your body, one of his hands smoothing over your back to hold you to him. He took a step back, pulling you with him, letting the front door swing shut before cupping your face with his spare hand to kiss you properly. When you pulled apart, he was smiling against your lips, breathing another “Hi…”

Pleasantries out of the way, you both stumbled your way down the hallway, refusing to let go of each other as you reacquainted yourself with the feel of another person’s hands on you. Pedro’s hands. He stopped a few times to press you against a wall, kiss you deeply, but it didn’t take long for him to lead you towards his bedroom.

He was laid back on his sheets and you straddled his hips, riding him as he looked up at you. His hands were firm on your thighs, but his eyes seemed far away. You slowed to a stop, panting slightly as you placed your hands on his chest. “What’s wrong?”

Pedro blinked a few times, suddenly aware that he wasn’t present. “Nothing’s wrong,” he answered, squeezing your thighs in an attempt to reassure you.

“You sure?” You asked, lifting a hand up to stroke the side of his face, “You seem… distracted…”

He smiled, leaning his head to place a kiss to your palm, “I’m fine…” He whispered, sliding his hands up from your thighs to your waist, and as if to accentuate his point, he planted his feet firmly on the mattress and thrust up into you.

You cried out in shock, and before you knew what was happening, Pedro was sitting up to wrap his arms around you and roll you onto your back. Your gasped moan turned into laughter as he kissed your nose, both your cheeks, and then your neck, and it wasn’t long before he was stealing your breath away as he began to thrust into you with wild abandon.

Afterwards, you were both laid on your sides, facing each other. Your breathing had just about evened out, and your hand was resting on his cheek, thumb stroking his skin as you both looked at each other. “I missed this,” You whispered, sighing into his pillow as you nuzzled your face into the soft cotton.

A smile tugged at Pedro’s lips as he placed a hand on your hip. “Your toys just not cutting it?” He grinned, pinching your skin playfully.

You groaned and felt your face flush as you rolled onto your back to look at the ceiling. “I thought I was gunna get away with us pretending you never found those…”

Pedro laughed, “Nope!” He stared at the side of your face for a few seconds before biting his bottom lip, shuffling as he also turned to face the ceiling.

“So… I’ve been thinking…” He started, and your head snapped to look at him quicker than you intended. You studied his profile as he continued to worry his lip with his teeth, and you swallowed thickly, feeling the same panic that you’d felt in the elevator earlier.

“I… Are you…” You stumbled over your words, clearing your throat before continuing. “Please don’t tell me you’re gunna call this off after fucking me senseless?” You laughed nervously, trying to play it cool even though you knew it’d crush whatever self esteem you had left if that was the case.

Pedro turned to look at you, leaning up on his elbow as he stared at you with wide eyes. “What?! What gave you that idea?”

You shifted awkwardly under his gaze, shrugging your shoulders. “I dunno… Just… You called and sounded so. So distant. And then just now, it… It felt like you weren’t even here for a while.”

Pedro sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face, “I’m sorry…”

You reached up and grabbed his wrist, stilling him. “It’s okay…” You murmured, and he looked back at you again with those deep brown eyes.

“It’s nothing like that.” He said, trying his best to reassure you with a look. You flashed him a smile, and that seemed to calm him slightly. “It’s just something that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I last saw you.”

You released his wrist, pulling the sheets up further around you as you suddenly felt cold without his body pressed against you. You sat up slightly so that you could look at Pedro properly, silently urging him to continue.

He let out a shaky breath, but made a point to keep eye contact with you. “I did some research and… and if it’s something that you’re into then… I’d like to try it.”

You looked at him, confused, and Pedro suddenly realised he hadn’t explained just what he was referring to.

“Pegging. I mean.”

Your eyebrows shot up and a bemused puff of air fell from your lips. “… P-pegging?” You asked, unsure of what you were hearing.

Pedro just nodded, swallowing hard before continuing. “Ever since I found that harness, it’s all I could think about. I looked into it, and… and it’s something that I-I think I would like. And if it’s something that you like then, well. I don’t want to hold you back.”

All you could do is blink at him, your mouth slightly open as you processed what he was saying. “I… I don’t know what to say…” You mumbled, and then suddenly your brows were furrowing in confusion. “Wait… What makes you think that I’m into… that?”

“Sweetie,” He began, a smirk playing on his features. “You… You have a strap-on.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, and your eyes widened further as things began to slot into place. “Ohhh…” You said, and suddenly everything made sense. “Pedro… That, um. That was a misjudged present. From an ex girlfriend…”

The look of shock on Pedro’s face was immediate, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing openly. “I-I’ve never actually used it, I never had the confidence to try it, and she didn’t stick around much longer after that…”

Pedro could only nod his head dumbly, and you realised you were probably giving him more information than he need. “I’m sorry! I… I thought you knew-”

“You’re bi.” Pedro muttered, eyebrows still raised as the realisation dawned on him.

You managed to stifle your giggles, nodding your head. “Y-yeah… I just. I thought it was obvious…”

“Nope.” Pedro blinked. “At least not to me… God. I’m an idiot.” He groaned, but you moved quickly to hold his face and forced him to look at you.

“No you’re not,” You sighed, leaning in to kiss him softly. “You’re… You’re actually kinda sweet.”

Pedro smiled, the shock finally dissipating as he kissed you back. “How am I sweet?” He asked quietly, and you squirmed as his breath ghosted over your lips, spreading warmth throughout your body.

“Well,” You breathed, stroking his cheekbone and nuzzling your nose against his. “For one, you were willing to let me fuck you…”

He hummed contentedly, before pulling back to look at you properly, “I still would…” He admitted, and you swore you could see his cheeks flush slightly.

“Y-yeah?” You whispered, and he nodded. “You… You really want to try?”

He nodded again, kissing you softly before resting his forehead against yours. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about. The whole time I was away.” He breathed. “You should see my search history…”

You laughed, slightly breathless as you let yourself imagine him eagerly researching, glasses perched on his nose, taking notes.

And then you allowed yourself to picture what it would be like to bend him over, a soft moan falling from your lips as you kissed him again.

“I… Let me think about it… okay?” You whispered when you pulled back slightly, and you felt him smile as he wrapped his arms around you to pull you against his chest. He placed a kiss on top of your head and squeezed you tightly.

“Of course…”

—

You spent several weeks doing your own research, scrolling through endless pages of porn in an attempt to find all the answers to your questions. Most of the videos that you found were eye opening, to say the least. The confidence that the women exuded was tantalising, but you couldn’t picture yourself in their positions. If anything, you found yourself fantasising about being on the receiving end of their commands, but that was a story for another day.

There were videos from one particular couple that intrigued you, however. They appeared to be genuine, caring, and indulging in a mutual appreciation of pegging. It was so different to all the other versions you’d seen. This wasn’t about emasculation or domination, and through their videos you had managed to stumble across a kink that you didn’t realise you had: Men embracing pleasure in their most vulnerable state.

It was at that moment that you decided that Pedro was onto something.

Let’s do this. You texted him. It was late at night but almost immediately the speech bubble appeared under your message, the animated ellipsis bounced briefly before Pedro responded.

When?

He was eager, that was evident to see, but you insisted that he took his time to pick out a new dildo for himself. You agreed to place the order for him so the parcel could be sent to your apartment, just incase any press found out, and Pedro sent several links your way, genuinely wanting your opinion.

The first few were immediately met with a firm No. Reading their dimensions, the sizes made you cross your legs and cringe, so there was no way that Pedro would be able to take them. You told him to stop being overly ambitious and find one that wasn’t too intimidating.

Eventually he found one that he liked the look of. It had a slight curve to it, wasn’t too thick, and you liked the fact that it was silicone.

Good choice. You texted, It’ll be here in 3-5 business days.

Pedro couldn’t help but smile, beaming at the praise, before texting back.

Can’t wait.

—

When the big night came around, Pedro took a deep breath before he knocked on your front door. He had a bottle of wine in his hand, one that he'd grabbed as a last minute thought on the way out of his apartment. He had felt like he needed to bring something to drink to calm his nerves, but as he ran his thumb over his bottom lip, he shook his head slightly at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

What does one bring to toast the loss of his anal virginity? Red or white?

You opened the door, and the gust of air from doing so blew your hair back slightly, snapping him out of his thoughts. You flashed him a quick smile which conveyed that you were equally as nervous as he was, but when you clocked the bottle you raised an eyebrow at him quizzically. Pedro hadn’t arrived with gifts to yours since you had first invited him over many years ago. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled shyly as he offered it to you. You took it and stepped aside to let him in. He followed you to the kitchen, leaning against the door frame, and watched as you grabbed some glasses.

“I figured we should talk first…” You said, and he stayed silent as you rummaged in a drawer for a corkscrew. He stepped forwards, taking it from you once you’d found it, expertly uncorking the wine before handing you the bottle back to pour. “Thanks,” You murmured. “But we’re only having a glass each.”

Pedro nodded and waited patiently as you poured the wine before handing him a glass. He took it from you and leaned against the counter, swirling the liquid slightly before taking a generous slug. He noticed that you mirrored his actions, but your sip was more conservative.

“What… What is this for you, Pedro?” You asked, and he stared blankly back at you.

“What do you mean?”

You sighed, “I mean… What do you want to get from tonight?”

Pedro blushed slightly as he shrugged, feeling the warmth from the wine, and the conversation, spread through his extremities. “I… I don’t know.” He admitted, rubbing his free hand over the back of his neck.

Slowly, you nodded back at him, taking your time to calculate your next question. “Is… Is it a domination thing?”

Pedro laughed awkwardly, “N-no… I don’t think so…” He shifted slightly, stared down at his wine for a few seconds before looking back at you. “I think I’m just curious? I don’t… y’know. Don’t want you to call me names or degrade me…”

A smile pulled at his lips and you relaxed slightly, relieved at his honesty. Because realistically? You don’t think you could do that, even if he asked.

Pedro seemed to sense the tension in the air dissipate as you both stared at each other. As exciting as this all was, he longed for the normalcy of your no strings attached arrangement. This felt like flirting with the possibility of change, and that unsettled you both. “I guess I’m just intrigued at the thrill of discovering something new about myself… whether it’ll be pleasurable…”

You hummed in response and took another sip of wine, a larger one this time. You chewed on your bottom lip once you pulled the glass away, cradling it close to your chest. “I get that…”

Pedro smiled again, blushing once more as he cleared his throat. “I, uh. I tried. O-on my own… While I was away…”

His admission shocked you, eyebrows raising. “You did?”

Curiously, you watched him as he downed the last of his wine, shoving his hands straight into his pockets after he put down the glass. “Y-yeah,” He stared at his shoes. “Just with my fingers.” He coughed slightly, and then let out a small laugh, looking back up at you. “I wasn’t flexible enough though.”

Your eyes crinkled as you let out a puff of air that sounded like a mix between a giggle and a sigh, “Jesus, Pedro…” You whispered into your glass once you’d raised it to your lips again, “You really were curious…”

He nodded in response, watching as you finished your drink too, placing the glass down gently on the worktop before taking a step toward him. He pushed off the counter, meeting you halfway, and placed his hands on your biceps, giving them a squeeze before rubbing them up and down.

You smiled up at him, content at his touch, and allowed yourself to hook your pointer fingers in the belt loops of his jeans. “Do, um… Did you wanna agree on a safe word? Just in case?”

Remembering Oscar’s advice, he laughed, and when you looked up at him confused, he kissed your forehead. “Uh… yeah. That makes sense… How about ‘purple’?”

“Fine by me.” You nodded your head once more before, silently, you both agreed to move towards your bedroom.

Once there, Pedro surveyed the scene that you’d laid out ready. The strap-on laid on the end of the bed, along with a generously sized bottle of lube, and there was a towel draped over your sheets. He grinned, gesturing to the preparation you’d done, “You really know how to spoil a guy.”

You rolled your eyes in response, ignoring his sarcastic comment, before taking a step closer to him to press a kiss to his lips. He hummed happily at the way you caressed him before he pulled back far enough to ask how you wanted him.

“On all fours? I think…” You breathed against his lips, and he nodded, running a hand through your hair before kissing you again.

Everything slowed to a leisurely pace as Pedro helped to ease your top over your head, letting you do the same for him, before he stepped close enough for you to feel his bare skin against your torso. He placed gentle kisses to your neck as he undid your jeans, and it didn’t take long for you to be stood in front of him in your underwear. When he went to unclasp your bra, however, you stopped him suddenly.

“I… I think I wanna keep these on…” You whispered, and Pedro nodded, understanding the vulnerable quiver in your voice. Instead, he focused on undressing himself, stepping out of his jeans and boxers. He kissed your lips one last time before smoothing his hands down your body, following them down so that he was knelt in front of you. He placed an open mouthed kiss to the soft skin of your stomach, just below your belly button, and your played with his hair as you smiled down at him.

He fumbled blindly behind him on the bed, hand finding the bottle of lube before finally falling upon the strap-on next to it. He broke eye contact with you just long enough to position it properly, holding it out for you to step into.

“Such a gentleman,” You laughed, resting your hands on his shoulders as you did so, thankful for his support. He slowly eased the harness up over your thighs, standing up when he reached your hips. You watched him carefully as he tightened the straps, finding your eyes once more to check that you were comfortable.

Once you’d adjusted yourself, you couldn’t help but giggle. “This is fucking weird…” You mumbled, reaching out to rub your hand over his, craving any kind of contact.

Pedro smiled in response and, unable to resist his intrusive thoughts any longer, playfully tapped the dildo, smirking as it bounced. “You look great though.”

You laughed again, shaking your head as you pulled him into you. He whimpered slightly as he felt the silicone cock press against his own, but your mumbled apology was cut off as he kissed you, his lips and tongue needy against yours.

You were breathless when he pulled back, and you turned him around quickly, hands gently guiding him onto your bed, pushing slightly on his lower back. Pedro crawled forward onto the towel, trying to position himself as centrally as possible, and you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to spank him, gently swatting his skin.

“Fuck!” Pedro cried, not meaning to sound so wrecked but his breath caught in his throat, followed by a shocked laugh. He peered over his shoulder to throw you a look. “One thing at a time…”

You bit your lip at the heat in his eyes, making a mental note to try that again another night. “Sorry,” You mumbled, and Pedro just smiled as you ran your hands up the backs of his thighs, urging him to spread his legs further.

You began slow, starting with one lubed up finger. Even though Pedro had told you that he’d experimented alone, you were well aware that this angle would allow you to go deeper than he had managed. You waited until you could hear small moans from him before adding a second finger. He was clenching hard against the intrusion, but you just shushed him, slowly easing in and out of him until you felt him begin to relax. It wasn't until you were working your third finger into him and curling them inside that he groaned, loud and deep, his head dropped between his shoulders.

“Fuck… I’m not gunna last to the main event if you keep doing that…”

Despite what you were doing, you found yourself smiling shyly, feeling pride swell in your chest as he praised you. You leant forward and placed a soft kiss to his spine, twisting your fingers one last time before pulling them out and leaning back to grab the lube. Pedro twisted slightly to watch as you smeared the clear gel over the toy, his own cock twitching in anticipation. It wasn’t long before you were back up on your knees again, slotting between his spread legs and grabbing his left hip, lining yourself up with your cock in your right hand. “Y-You ready?”

Pedro could hear the nerves in your voice, and he reached back to cover the hand on his hip, squeezing gently.

“Ready.”

Slowly, you pressed into him. Your hips stuttered slightly as you tried to get used to the new motion, and Pedro’s hand fell from yours back down to grab at the towel beneath him. “Jesus…” He whined. The dildo wasn’t much thicker than your fingers had been, but it was definitely longer, and as you bottomed out in him he whimpered at how deep it felt.

You paused once your hips were flush against his ass, running your still slick hand up Pedro’s back, trying to be as gentle as possible. “You okay?” You asked quietly, listening intently to how he was breathing beneath you.

“M’good…” He moaned, trying to look back at you but gasping as his movement sent a whole new sensation through his body. “Fuck… Feels so… so weird…”

“You’re telling me…” You smirked. “Good weird or bad weird? I can pull back if you want-“

“Ah! No!” He cried as you started to retreat, his hand once again flew back to grab the one you still had on his hip. “It’s… It’s good weird… Fuck, do it again…”

You’d hardly moved an inch when he had stopped you, but you pushed forward again regardless. The noise that fell from Pedro’s lips was all the encouragement you needed to continue shallowly rocking back and forth.

After a few minutes, you could feel the tension leave Pedro’s body with each thrust you made, opening up more to the sensations he was feeling. The sound of your hips making contact with his ass, along with his ragged breaths filled your ears, but you needed more from him.

“Is-Is this okay?”

Pedro grunted in response, but that wasn’t enough confirmation for you. You pinched at his hip to get his attention. “Babe… You gotta use your words… I can’t feel anything, remember?”

His breathy laugh made you smile. “Sorry… Feels great…” He practically purred, daring to arch his back slightly and groaning as it allowed you to thrust deeper.

“I don’t get how you guys keep this up…” You grumbled, already panting at the effort you were putting in. “My knees are killing me…” You laughed, adjusting your stance so that your legs were spread wider in attempt to roll your hips up into him.

The change of angle made Pedro whine, his hands scrambling to grasp at the towel, the sheets, anything he could. “Fuck me…”

His voice sounded wrecked.

“Yeah?” You grunted, your stomach twisting as you could feel your own arousal burning.

“Yeah!” He nodded dumbly, “Fuck, yeah… Right there…” He whined, and you made sure to continue rocking yourself into that spot, relishing in the amount of pleasure you were drawing out of him.

Pedro began to push himself backwards to meet your thrusts, moaning obscenely each time he did. “Shit, think- think I’m gunna come…”

You moaned loudly, feeling your core tingle at his words. “Want me to touch you?” You asked, conscious that this was about his desires, needing him to decide how he fell apart.

He nodded his head, his upper body slumping forward to press his face into the mattress. As if he suddenly remembered your earlier command, he breathed out a needy yes, and it was all you needed to remove your right hand from his hip, reaching around to wrap your still slick fingers around his cock. You held him firmly at the base, shivering at the sound of his gasp before you began to jerk him firmly in time with your thrusts.

It didn’t take long for Pedro to come once you’d started stroking him, his body convulsing as he spilled over your hand and the towel beneath him. You slowed your thrusts, listening to each whine that Pedro made as he twitched under your touch. You let go of his cock when you felt like the sensation was becoming too much for him, placing your hands onto the soft curve of his ass and gently withdrawing from him. He hissed as you did, feeling empty and shivery at the mixture of cool lube and warm come on his skin.

You leant forward, silicone dick now pressed against his thigh as you kissed his cheek. “Stay right there…” You whispered into his ear, slowly helping him to ease down flat on his stomach, “I’ll be right back…”

And then you were gone.

You made your way to the bathroom, loosening the straps on the harness before stepping out of it and throwing it in the sink. You washed your hands quickly, getting rid of the majority of the stickiness that coated your fingers, deciding to clean up the dildo afterwards, once you’d taken care of Pedro.

Making sure the water was warm, you held a washcloth under the tap, wringing it out as best you could. You took it with you to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with cold water before going back to find Pedro right where you left him, looking well and truly fucked, ass covered with come and lube.

He felt the mattress dip as you climbed on next to him, placing the water on the bedside table. He eyed it lazily, tongue poking out to lick his lips, suddenly realising how dry his mouth was. He went to move but you placed a firm hand on the small of his back as you shushed him. “Stay still… I’m gunna clean you up…”

Pedro grinned and let his eyes shut again as he sighed contentedly, allowing himself to relax into the feeling of you wiping the washcloth over his sensitive skin. He shivered as you moved it gently between his cheeks, giggling to himself at the sensation. “Tickles…” He mumbled, and you smiled when you looked back up the bed at him. You patted him gently on the ass, smoothing your hand over to his hip and pushing lightly.

“Roll over. Lemme get your front.”

He did as he was told, flopping onto his back and stretching his legs languidly as you repeated the process on his stomach and groin. He had one arm behind his head, the other resting against his chest, watching your every move as he breathed softly.

Once you were done, you put the washcloth onto the towel and crawled up to brace your arms either side of Pedro’s head. “You okay?”

He nodded, the hand that was on his chest reaching up to cup your cheek. He loved how you leaned into him each time he did that.

“I’m great…” He mumbled, pulling you down so that he could kiss you, the only way he knew how to show you his gratitude. You smiled against his lips, wanting nothing more than to melt into his embrace, but Pedro had other ideas.

You squeaked as he suddenly rolled you onto your back, straddling your hips. You winced as he pressed you into the towel. “Eurgh, Pedro! Now I’m all sticky…”

“Good.” He smirked, before sitting up far enough to pick up the glass of water. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank greedily, before he returned the cup to the bedside table, leaning down to kiss you quickly. “I’m not done with you yet…”

Before you could respond, Pedro was clambering out of your lap. Confused, you propped yourself up on your elbows, before realising he was heading to your dresser, yanking open your underwear drawer. You raised an eyebrow as he fished around for a few seconds before he cried out triumphantly and returned to the bed holding the small oval toy you’d found him pondering all those months ago.

What once embarrassed you now made you tense with anticipation. He looked almost shy as he presented the Womanizer to you, eyes pleading. “Please… Show me how it works?”

He knew you could never refuse him when he looked at you like that.

You took the toy from him, and he smiled instantly, leaning down to kiss you before shuffling down to place eager hands on your hips, fingers hooking under the waistband of your underwear. You lifted up for him, and he slide them down your thighs and off your legs, throwing them aside. He spent a few seconds smoothing his hands against the inside of your thighs, spreading your legs as you placed your feet flat against the mattress. It seemed to pain him to drag his eyes away from your slick cunt to look at you expectantly.

You let out a shaky breath under his scrutinisation, suddenly feeling vulnerable at the thought of letting him watch you pleasure yourself. You pushed those thoughts to the side though when he smiled gently and placed a kiss to your knee cap.

“This,” You breathed holding the toy up so he could see it, “Is a clitoral stimulator.”

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips and you moaned softly.

“It… It basically feels like someone eating you out. But way more intense…” You continued, slowly moving your free hand down to touch yourself, sighing at how wet you were, before you gently spread your labia. Pedro watched with eager eyes as you brought the toy down to your clit, enveloping it with the stimulation head, and then you pushed the button.

Your eyes fluttered shut as the familiar sensation of waves began to pulse through your body, and it wasn’t long before you pressed the button once more. Pedro heard the soft hum increase as you activated what he assumed was your preferred setting, and then you were moaning and drawing your legs closer to your body. He was entranced, watching you writhe against the tiny object, amazed that such an strong feeling could come from it. He watched as your cunt clenched around nothing, cock twitching at the sight.

No. Too soon.

He settled between your legs, and you cried out as he ran his fingertips up and down the backs of your thighs, fingernails lightly skirting over your skin. It sent shivers up your spine which combined with the full body tingles from the toy deliciously.

“Pedro…” You moaned, beginning to fall apart already. He just hummed in response. You didn’t notice as he raised his right hand to his mouth, placed his middle and ring finger between his lips and sucked lewdly.

Your eyes snapped open, however, when he gently slid them inside of you. “Ah! P-Pedro!” You gasped. You’d never paired the toy with vaginal penetration before, the sensations from the suction on your clit overwhelming enough on its own. When he hooked his fingers slightly, you whimpered, head thrashing back against the pillow. “Fuck, Pedro! It’s- It’s too much…”

He shushed you, kissing the inside of your quivering thigh as he began to thrust his fingers shallowly. Arching your back, you gasped out ragged breaths. Your face was screwed up as you sobbed loudly.

“Breathe, sweetheart…” He mumbled, deep in his chest.

“Fu-uck!” You whined, knowing you sounded petulant but not caring. “I’m trying!”

Even though you couldn’t see him, you felt him smirk, moving his fingers faster as your hips canted to chase both sensations.

“Shit, shit, shit! Pedro!” You cried, suddenly feeling the pressure build in your core, and you gasped in shock as you began to realise what was happening. You tried to pull the toy away from your clit in time, but you couldn’t stop the steady stream of liquid pushing out of your cunt and down Pedro’s fingers, soaking the towel beneath you.

“Jesus Christ…” You heard him groan, and you scrabbled to push yourself away from his relentless hands, gasping in lungfuls of air as you stared down at him with wide eyes.

“I… I can’t… Shit, that’s never… I’m so sorry…” You were spiralling, face red as you clamped your legs shut and tried to hide the evidence, gathering the towel up and swearing again when you realised your come had soaked through to the bedding. “Fuck!”

Pedro took the towel from you, throwing it to the floor before his hands were on your shoulders. You shuddered at the slick he smeared on you from his right hand before he gathered you against his chest.

“Shhh… It’s okay!” He whispered, pressing kisses to the top of your head as you tried to bury into his skin, wanting to hide your face from him. “Don’t be embarrassed…”

You groaned, trying to calm your breathing as Pedro ran a hand up and down your back. “You must think I’m such a pervert…”

Pedro smiled against your hair, “No…” He kissed your forehead. “I think you’re hot…”

He laughed as you whimpered against his skin, “I could die…”

“Please don’t.” He mumbled, smirking. “Cause I wanna try all of that again.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x f!reader

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planet-dusk · 1 year ago

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you should definitely share the fem!skz thoughts with the rest of the class mhmmm mhmm totally not because i need them more than oxygen or anything 🙄

i was thinking,, what kind of aesthetic would the fem!skz members have...

chan would have emo/e-girl vibes, the type of girl whose wardrobe consists of 99% black. lots of silver jewelry. the chunkier kind,, black leather too, and of course her nails would be painted black as well (a little chipped from biting them). pleated skirts, chain belts and oversized sweaters. big platform shoes to make her look taller and fishnet stockings to show off her pretty legs <33 n piercings! a nose & belly button piercing for sure bc of course chan would have the prettiest tummy :)) her preferred hair color would be black (relaxed, not curled) or 2 tone with either black + silver grey or a neon color

leeknow's style would be a mixture of comfortable athleisure and a more preppy clean aesthetic. padded jackets, hoodies, sweatpants and ofc converse :)) minimal jewelry,, if any. probably just some (cat) bracelets. she'd prefer to dye her hair in natural colors like dark brown. in winter she wears soft chunky wool sweaters. she uses very little makeup but she loves her cherry chapstick, and how it makes her lips all sweet and sticky and kissable <33

changbin would be such a babygirl ! the prettiest in pink, always showing off her gorgeous body <33 the cleavage on this girl 😵‍💫 she'd act all coy about it but loves it when people comment on how pretty she looks today,, bc she works hard for it and everyone should know! would def match her eyeshadow to her top <33 her hair would be black and curled, either short or long she looks great in both :)) binnie's a dress girl, she loves short bodycon dresses (n of course hidden underneath are her perky nipple piercings 🤭)

hyunjin would be the epitome of artsy elegance,, pretty silver rings adorning her long fingers. she keeps her hair short so it doesn't get in the way when she's painting. loves flowy oversized button ups that look like she stole them from someone else's closet. experiments with makeup sometimes but prefers to keep things more natural,, including her hair (but bleaches it sometimes). honestly looks like a dream whatever she wears <33

han would be right at home in leeknow's sweaters :)) sungie loves borrowing her friends' clothes. her style is similar to minho's but with some edgier street vibes thrown in,, like bucket hats and ripped jeans or cargo pants. goes through experimental phases (including a punk phase and dying her hair all colors of the rainbow) but always falls back on her comfy clothes <33 never goes far without her noise canceling headphones

felix likes expensive things,, likes them to be well fitted and neat. she loves soft n cute things too and often mixes aesthetics. a natural blonde <33 knows exactly what flatters her features (makeup, clothes, etc). could be wearing some high end jewelry paired with fluffy knee socks — anything she feels like,, and she looks amazing in it. bright and light colors look best on her but at night she'll turn up wearing a tiny black dress and make everyone do a double take 😵‍💫

seungmin breathes academia vibes! somewhere between light and dark academia, but always looking sharp and pristine. the kind of timeless beauty who knows how to accentuate her features,, with the perfect haircut (somewhere in the middle) and the right amount of makeup to make her beautiful face stand out. she'd wear tortoiseshell rimmed glasses,, a vintage pair she found in a shop downtown. lots of warm brown leather and tweed to finish off her daily look <33

i.n is on top of all the latest trends. she's just so cool 😫 her style is trendy but relaxed,, a city vibe with her oversized jackets and her shoe collection. rocks a bob or a ponytail like no other ! she buys vintage sometimes,, stuff like those 80s adidas jackets, seamlessly mixing them with her modern day sneakers. her style is very laid back but she knows how to dress up n loves a good red lip <33

#answered #comet-falls #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #;skz headcanons

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irafuwas · 1 year ago

Text

stream of consciousness notes for book 7 chapter 3

babbling and spoilers ahead

First scene notes

the first room that grim and yuu wake up in is within mickey’s dream. Mickey says he can’t use magic, the items that move around in his dream room move on their own

the “mickey” that is with them is when he leaves his body while he’s asleep. Grim figures his and yuu’s bodies must still be passed out on the floor in diasomnia then

mickey says that after he falls asleep in bed and he leaves his body, when he enters the mirror that hangs above the fireplace in his room, that’s when he gets to this dream room they’re in now. He tried before to enter the mirror while awake but it didn’t work

after mickey wakes up and disappears, a bunch of black gooey stuff shows up and starts attacking grim and yuu. Silver swoops in and calls it “Darkness” (闇). He says it if touches you, you will be put into an even deeper sleep

silver’s UM notes

Can only be activated when he is asleep AND when he realizes that he is in a dream

He is able to “cross” between dreams. He calls the sky-like space that he enters when moving from one dream to another the “dream corridor/corridor of dreams”

If you’re touching him when he crosses dreams, you’ll be able to cross with him

He cannot choose the person whose dream he enters, but it is easy for him/typical to cross over into the dreams of people he’s close with. So he is surprised he went into mickey’s dream that one time.

He can tell who is the dreamer because he sees a bird that emits rainbow colored light flying around them. Grim and yuu couldn’t see it flying around sebek, so it seems only silver can see it

He cannot go into people’s minds, per se. He describes it as “what one sees within one’s heart, the world of imagination borne from one’s memories and desires”

He still doesn’t fully comprehend his UM nor all the special characteristics of dreams

Often, when he wakes up, he can’t remember what happened in the dream

Mal notes

The energy field is slowly and gradually entombing a wider and wider radius around sage’s island. S.t.y.x. fears that it will eventually swallow the whole world

Normally, you could just wait for an overblotter’s magic to run out and then their UM would go away, but some fae are able to draw in magic energy from nature around them. Mal seems to be doing this, so his magic reserves are basically limitless

s.t.y.x with the help from BV tried breaking through the energy field but neither magic or physical attacks are getting through. When the fae or humans got to close to it, they would get dragged in by the thorns and trapped on the island

time on sage’s island has stopped at 21:18

the mal seen in idia and sebek’s dreams is the real mal. He is observing them and making sure they stay asleep/continue dreaming happy dreams

every living thing (well not plants I assume) on sage’s island is trapped in sleep. All the students, the towns people, the RSA students, the animals, the fish, the insects. Ortho is the only one on the island who is awake

Mr. Shroud feels déjà vu when seeing the island covered in thorns. He later realizes its because the sight bares a striking resemblance to the legends of the thorn fairy, of which illustrations remain in old literature

Mrs. Shroud adds that it's an ancient form of magic "area domination/domain control" (領域支配) where you "can change/alter everything within the domain at will"

end scene notes

when mal tries to put them into a deeper sleep, silver sees an auroral light. It seems to be the light from the ring his father gave him. Silver asks for his father’s help and they do end up in lilia’s dream like he wanted (possibly the ring’s doing?)

silver recognizes the forest and the smell of the wind

sebek can understand what the three goon-looking creatures are saying. The creatures think they are “The Iron Ones”? （鉄の者） sebek seems to know that phrase, as he says no they’re not

silver reacts in surprise when one of the creatures says something right before lilia appears. Maybe silver can also understand them?

lilia tells them “silence, humans”. He speaks threateningly.

the rainbow bird flies around lilia, so its his dream

#twst #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland #twst spoilers #twst jp

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drunkinchicago · 11 months ago

Text

coriolanus snow x lucy gray baird

link to chapter 1

Chapter 2: master of others

“So leave me alone, you ought to be proud that I’m getting good marks.”

Elliot Smith, “Needle in the Hay”

One thinks himself the master of others, and still remains a greater slave than they.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract

Coriolanus pulled at the neck of his red cashmere sweater, unsure how he could possibly feel this warm in the laboratory. He knew that the thermostat was set to a bone-chilling sixty three degrees because he’d set it himself. Yet here he was, sweating and feverish, unable to regulate his own body temperature, to control himself. How fitting.

It had taken weeks before Dr. Volumnia Gaul had allowed Coriolanus to be left to his own devices in the research facility, continuously commenting on his stint with her beloved rainbow snakes. This embarrassed Coriolanus greatly and he fell silent at the mention of it, accepting the rightful criticism. He hadn’t been trying to spite the Capitol in the action. He was just trying to save Lucy Gray, because that was all that he thought about then, but that was the shame in it, wasn’t it? How quickly and wholly he had been willing to throw aside his heritage for her, how easily she made him forget the expectations of his last name. Strategically placing his father’s handkerchief in the tank had come to him as easily as breathing. Desperately, Coriolanus had attempted to speak words of regret on the matter, but the shapes of such statements couldn’t form on his lips - the very lips that were born into importance the second they met hers. He didn’t regret any of it. He wanted to, but he couldn’t find that feeling.

He’d poisoned Dean Casca Highbottom and didn’t regret that either. Coriolanus found his emerging perspective on murder and death troubling but natural. He refused to reject a sense that came this easily, which was the very trouble with Lucy Gray Baird. He had no energy to waste on attempting to unlearn what was so deeply ingrained within him. This is all he was anymore - hatred and her.

Today, he’d be meeting with Dr. Gaul to discuss the framework of an idea he’d conjured to encourage the commitment of the districts to the Games. Just as there’d been an incentive for the mentors to win the year prior, Coriolanus had confidence in the offering of a prize to winning Districts, one greater than the life of the victorious tribute. He’d toyed with the concept of extra provisions, a monetary reward for the winner and his/her family, or a tour through the districts sporting the victor as an elongated reminder. His most verbose suggestion was a draft of a Victor’s Village on the outskirts of each District, a series of fine homes and privacy designated solely for winners. Comprehensively, Coriolanus was aiming to create a reason for those in the Districts to look forward to the games - hope in the midst of despair. Hope, he’d concluded, was the mental equivalence of wrapping your hands around someone’s neck and releasing just as their eyes rolled back. Gasping, dopamine would flood through the victim’s body, replacing prior fear and desperation, because at least the perpetrator didn’t go through with it. They didn’t finish the deal, they only came close. And here came the second chance, the opportunity to assess all that individual had taken for granted before they tasted death. You could do anything with that feeling, with that opportunity to edge a person. They’d be at your mercy and your control - suddenly, you were no longer another human, but their maker and ender simultaneously, a God with the choices in his silver-ringed hands. Coriolanus relished in the idea, warmth gathering in his lower abdomen when he imagined how powerful that moment would feel. It made him wish to perfect the exact amount of poison required to only nearly, not fully, sicken someone to the brink of their death. He could lean down to meet them on the floor, face to face on the tile. Not feeling real good, are you? He’d whisper, reaching out to touch their warm cheek, the veins pulsating on their forehead. Is there anything you want to tell me? Or do you want to drink more?

Today, Coriolanus was hoping to make requests of his own. Typically, he was the one at the beck and call of Dr. Gaul, as was expected of an internship position. He’d excelled and would continue to, but he wanted to gain capital. He knew Dr. Gaul could give him what he wanted, even if it was difficult, and perhaps it wouldn’t. Little seemed to phase her. She was incredibly calculated, and Coriolanus himself had seen her as evil, which she was. It was a necessary evil, he’d come to recognize, and necessary was his demand.

Dr. Gaul strolled into the wing of the laboratory that he occupied two hours after he’d arrived, donning one of her customary whimsical garments. Coriolanus’ stomach still turned at the sight of her, as it always had. But she was a good teacher, a great one even, and her power couldn’t be denied. Coriolanus believed in the notion that those who couldn’t be beaten should be joined, but he would surpass her eventually. He already hoped she felt insecurity at the amount of ideas she’d adopted of his - here he was, nearly nineteen only, preparing for the second Games that he’d carried a heavy influence in. The tables would turn eventually. Snow lands on top.

“Good morning,” Dr. Gauld drawled, eyeing the meticulously written notes laying in front of Coriolanus. He’d once seen the drawers in her private office chalkful with the documents he’d bestowed her with. Her prodigy - a mind that couldn’t be wasted in the Districts. He was thankful for that, at least, that her belief in him had brought him back to the Capitol. Not that it wasn’t rightful. He was fantastic at what he did and he knew that. Everything was falling into place. Almost.

Dr. Gaul’s hands, draped in red gloves, began to reach for the page laying on top, one adorned with mock sketches of a Victor’s Village mansion. Coriolanus swiftly moved the papers away from her, a mechanism that took her by shock. “Feisty this morning, aren’t you, rabbit?” She wasn’t angry, yet - just curious.

Coriolanus eyed the sterile silver clock on the opposite wall. “It’s afternoon,” he said gruffly, running his fingers along the top of the stapled document. His left index finger caught on the left edge of the stack, but he didn’t mind the feeling. He let the finger rest there, blood soaking the outer edges and moving toward his perfect handwriting. “I have a favor to ask. It’s not small.”

There was an open seat across from Coriolanus, but Dr. Gaul didn’t take it. She brought her hands together, resting them on the upper side of the chair and leaning forward. On occasions, she sounded like a snake herself, hissing as she spoke. “And what may that be?”

Coriolanus was not intimidated by her, but more so by the gravity of his request. He wasn’t sure what had compelled today to be the day he’d finally mention it, as the thought wasn’t new. He’d thought about asking for Lucy Gray Baird every day since the last he saw her. He would do anything for her to be owed to him, and wasn’t she anyway? She was his. His in the Capitol, his in Twelve, his anywhere. Perhaps it was the loss of Grandma’am, another loose end lost to wherever they go, somewhere beside Sejanus. The trees in his life were being cut down, and hopefully that would prove the forest Lucy Gray was hiding in to be of greater clarity. Find her.

He was racking his brain for the best way to say it, hoping to frame it in an academic way, a manner that convinced Dr. Gaul that the choice would serve as much benefit to her as it would him. Dr. Gaul interrupted his train of thought with an empty condolence. “I’m sorry about your grandmother. She was lovely, I presume.”

Coriolanus met her eyes, another one of her snakelike features. Perhaps he would play the wounded card, the mourning boy. “My sorrows have been immense. I’m lonely, as of late.”

Dr. Gaul erupted into laughter at this, startling Coriolanus. “You stupid, stupid boy. What did I say about lying to me? You take me for a fool, acting as though I haven’t been waiting for the day you’d ask this question.”

Coriolanus’ cheeks burned red, feeling warm again. Were his feelings that clear? He’d thought the opposite, that he was the picture of self-sufficiency. He was immediately self-conscious at the prospect of his infatuation being so detectable, whether the feeling be true or not. And it was, God , it was. Could everyone see him as Dr. Gaul could, or was she just wiser?

“You don’t give a damn about your grandmother, dumb child,” Dr. Gaul practically spit at him, moving quickly to yank his document from his grasps. In his anxiety, he’d begun clutching the papers as though they were a lifeline. The intensity of Dr. Gaul’s ripping motion caused more paper cuts, Coriolanus crying out in pain as the palms of his hands bled a deeper red. He was already mortified beyond understanding, so the begging started.

“Please,” he gasped, falling to the ground like a peasant yearning for a penny. His chair skidded behind, turning on its side. The metal hitting the resin flooring resulted in a loud clang, a sound that echoed throughout the emptiness of the laboratory. “Please, Dr. Gaul. I’m losing my wit, my motivation, my mind. I can’t be the student you want me to be for much longer.”

Dr. Gaul seemed secondarily embarrassed at his dramatics, and equally unimpressed. “Say what you want in plain English then, Coriolanus.”

On his knees, he looked up to see her face, beginning to seethe with anger. Of course she was going to make him spell it out pathetically, the exact opposite of what he’d wanted her to do. He’d hoped to turn it into a business arrangement rather than a show of pity, but esteem seemed to be lost already. “Don't you have any respect for me?” He yelled through gritted teeth.

“Have some respect for yourself.” Dr. Gaul was unmoving.

“I. Want. Lucy. Gray. Baird.”

More laughter, chastising laughter. “Dumb child,” she repeated.

“A game of repetition, huh? Then I will say it again. I cannot be the student you need without her.”

“And what if you cannot be the student I need with her? Don’t you see how distracted you’d be with that little songbird in your bedroom?”

Coriolanus’ heart drummed at the mention of his room, of her, of the picture being painted, feeling indescribably put down by her insinuation. “What are you saying?”

“You think you know love,” Dr. Gaul tsked, shifting the papers she held to her left arm and placing her right hand on her heart. “You think you know what’s in here, how that feels. You don’t have much there, Coriolanus. Naive, and it’s known that the two of you didn’t sleep together.”

A switch flipped, forcing Coriolanus to his feet. What on earth? Known by whom? He couldn’t believe that the matter of his private life, of his virginity, was something to ‘know’, another Coriolanus-shaped topic for Capitol officials to analyze. “And that's a commonplace discussion?’

“It was a commonplace concern, actually. Casca was convinced you’d close that ground with her before the Games even started and resultantly lose interest in mentoring her. This was a substantial anxiety, as the Capitol had fallen for her themselves at that point. She needed a mentor who would invest everything in her to make the Capitol citizen investments worth their time. Living long enough for people to be entertained by her was paramount.”

“And what do you think I did?” Coriolanus was counting the hours of sleep he’d lost watching her, worrying himself sick about her wellbeing. It was the only relevance in his life then and now, and that wasn’t because he hadn’t slept with her. How could it be? It was deeper, it had to be, he knew it. He remembered it all, was even wearing the memories out from how often he ran through them. Kissing until his lips bled, the promise of being written in the stars, the way her eyes were the color of devotion. Even in his most violent moments, when rage distorted her face in his mind, when he imagined how she’d feel cold and lifeless before him, a bullet wound he gave her dyeing the color of her dress, he loved her. He loved her so much it sickened him. “What type of mentor do you think I was?”

“A teenage one sick with want,” Dr. Gaul scolded. “Simply desire, my boy.”

“Then kill me,” Coriolanus said plainly, manipulatively. She couldn’t, not his brain, not his words. She would’ve done it by then if she had the means to, what with all his crimes. He was her star pupil and the future of the Games.

Dr. Gaul scoffed, but said nothing.

“Give me her or I. Want. You. To. Kill. Me.”

Dr. Gaul continued her streak of silence, blinking at him as though he’d relent.

“Hang me in front of everyone, I don’t care. I’ve gone mad at the possibility of not having what’s rightfully mine.”

“Do you not understand the difference between obsession and love?” Dr. Gaul spoke the words slowly, a tone softer than he’d heard her use before.

“Assign it what you will,” Coriolanus responded, feeling he was somehow on the precipice of gaining leverage. “Call it how you want it and put it on a flag beside me. Write it on my grave.”

Dr. Gaul and Coriolanus settled into a battle fought by their eyes. They both knew, to Coriolanus’ advantage, that the greatest but inevitable mistake the Capitol had made was granting Coriolanus his pardon and giving him the lifepath he wanted after all he’d done. They’d rewarded everything they claimed not to, because that was the true way of the Capitol. His treason and self-serving behaviors were wrong and identical to those of anyone who’d ever served the Capitol well, for it was a self-serving nation, a self-serving city. Now, Coriolanus knew his power. He knew the room he had to pack away seemingly unforgivable acts, to cheat, to kill. He was Capitol, through and through, and they couldn’t hate him for it. They could hardly even punish him, for he was their creation, a product they’d designed that held great intellect and innovation.

“What’s in it for me?” Dr. Gaul finally asked.

This part of the conversation was the only Coriolanus had prepared for - the business plan. “She will be at your service just as mine. The Districts love her, trust her, even. She will perform at both the Bells’ nightclub, garnering income in the local economy, but also at any Capitol event, and especially those associated with the Games. It will garner views like no other, reminding the Districts that if a girl from Twelve can win, anything can happen. They’ll gain hope and the false perception of control - of a chance. They don’t know what I did to make her win, they just know she won, and they’ll see her in Capitol dresses, living a life she would have never had back home,” Coriolanus laughed at the next thought, bolstering confidence to support his perspective. “I’d be surprised if tributes don’t start volunteering just for the chance to be the next Lucy Gray.”

He knew it was a risk. Dr. Gaul detested the 10th Hunger Games and had even largely erased it. Lucy Gray Baird was a reminder of them, but a necessary one - a necessary evil - to sway the opinion of the common folk, the lowly Districts. “Give me her,” he pleaded, his voice almost a whisper. “I know you can find her. Bring her to me.”

Dr. Gaul turned away before responding, likely conveying an expression of defeat that she didn’t want him to see. “You’ll have your way in time. Now, though, you are mine just as she’s yours. You will have no autonomy over the time you are to spend dedicated to your work. If you or she fails me, I will kill you both, and you will watch her die first slowly.” Coriolanus could hardly hear what she was saying, lost in the satisfaction of his way, the only way that mattered.

As Dr. Gaul began to walk away, documents in hand, she called one final thing behind her. “Your father would be disgusted at the notion of District offspring, should you know. Don’t think this is some fantasy. You and I are one in the same - unlovable.”

Coriolanus wondered if she was right, if his fate was similar, if he’d end up withered, ugly and unlovable at the hands of his choices. Selfishly and in conceit, he couldn’t imagine it, especially not with this prospect - the return of Lucy Gray. Coriolanus had been recognized for his appearance since birth - his white blonde hair that had recently grown back into his signature curls, the blinding brightness of his pale blue eyes. He knew that many of his female peers at the University wanted him and detested the way they’d stare up at him, desperately hoping to be found attractive. He’d found none of the girls in the Capitol to be worth much, and this had been true both before and after her. All he wanted, all he'd soon have.

Even his father had once acknowledged Coriolanus’ beauty, perhaps only to recognize their shared characteristics. “A beautiful babe, you are,” Crassus Snow would murmur to his small son. “Hopefully one day you’re more than just that.”

He settled back into his chair, the white sides of it printed by his bloodied hands. In time. In time. She would be his again.

In time.

authors note: archive of our own link @ the following, love u guys https://archiveofourown.org/works/52089274/chapters/131741047

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg series #thg #tbosas spoilers #coriolanus snow #snow #president snow #snowbaird #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x lucy gray #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x coriolanus #suzanne collins #archive of our own #ao3

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mylunajewel · 2 years ago

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Natural Rainbow Moonstone 925 Silver Ring by My Luna Jewel

#rianbow moonstone silver ring #silver rings #natural rainbow moonstone #handmade jewelery #one off rings #stacker rings #statement silver rings #my luna jewel

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yourcoffeeguru · 9 months ago

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Natural Rainbow Moonstone 6mm Stacker Dress Ring || My Luna Jewel - Etsy

#dress silver rings #silver ring #natural rainbow moonstone silver ring #925 rings #jewellery #my luna jewel #etsy silver rings #moonstone silver ring #made in australia

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tc-doherty · 11 months ago

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Book One | Chapter One

Index | Next Chapter

Tag List: @bloodlessheirbyjacques @magefaery @did-i-do-this-write @marrowwife @rainbow-snow-writes @muddshadow @outpost51 @full-on-sam @bluberimufim @unclear-contributions @talesfromtheunknowable @guessillcallitart @flowerprose

(Ask to be added or removed)

Knights all looked the same.

It had been years beyond counting since the last knight had dared Dragon's Keep, but from her place in the castle's tallest remaining tower she could tell that this one was no different from the others who had tried and failed over the years.

Her eyesight was better than a human's. Even from this height she could see that the steel armor encasing his arms and legs, well shined by some probably overworked squire, was scratched and dented. His surcoat was plain, with no heraldry in sight. The sword at his hip was gaudy, but the hilt was only gold leaf and glass gems, the latter cracked and the former beginning to flake. His destrier was red roan under its bulky iron barding, rather than the preferred white or black of older days.

He was a knight, but not a wealthy one. That was certainly why he was here.

Scattered bits of gold and silver lay around her feet. The hoard itself was behind her, the coins and gems, jewelry and weapons, crowns and idols and assorted other treasures that her mother had collected formed an untidy pile against the far wall. Coins clinked and chimed under her feet as she moved closer to the window. Slender brown fingers curled around the edge of the granite windowsill as she leaned forward and peered down at the knight below.

He had come to a stop. The horse shuddered and stamped one large hoof onto the dirt. The knight patted it idly on the neck to quiet it and lifted his visor – just enough to show pale skin, blue eyes, and a shock of golden hair.

From his point of view, the place must look abandoned. He had already passed the outer wall with its ivy-covered stones and the broken wrought iron gate hanging at an angle from busted hinges. The scene inside the walls was not any more welcoming.

She could picture what he was seeing, having played on these grounds her whole life. No carts had been by in so long that it took a dragon's eye to see the rutted dirt roads under encroaching grass and wildflowers. The bushes here and there stood large and untrimmed. Huge weathered chunks of stone lay scattered around the base of the tower where bits of wall had crumbled and gone unrepaired. The rest of the castle beyond the tower was in worse shape still. Most of the walls had toppled centuries ago and only the foundations remained.

All that only accounted for natural decay. There were also unmistakable signs of dragons. The air smelled slightly of smoke, copper, and the dry, cool scent of scales. Claw marks as deep as a man's hand adorned the trees and remaining walls. The ground at the tower's base was scorched black and had been artistically decorated with the bones of other foolish knights.

She smiled. That had been her touch, and she had sent many knights running with those bones alone.

Her work did not go unnoticed. The destrier saw the bones, smelled the air, and fidgeted. The knight, intentionally or otherwise, ignored the signs. He urged his mount forward. The horse moved with visible reluctance. It shook its head, nostrils flaring, ears flicking back and forth at the smallest noise. She couldn't see its eyes, but she knew they would be ringed with white. Its hooves pawed at the blackened ground.

Her mother descended right on time.

The dragon plummeted towards the earth with a roar that shook the tower and caused even more items to slide off the hoard and roll around the room. The girl in the tower ignored this interruption, keen as ever to watch her mother fight.

Her mother's obsidian scales glinted in a riot of ghostly colors as she fell through the sunlight. It might look careless, but her dive was as carefully controlled as any falcon's. Just as it seemed she would surely crash into the ground and save the knight the trouble of fighting her, black wings opened with a snap and she landed lightly on all fours. The girl thought, not for the first time, that dragons truly were the most graceful of creatures.

The warhorse screamed and reared but did not run. The dragon was three times its size, but it bellowed its defiance and stood firm. Perhaps it was not such a cheap horse as she had assumed, it had clearly had some actual training. But she knew it would make no difference in the end. She had seen this exact farce a hundred times.

The black dragon reared too, swinging back like a snake about to bite – except she produced fire rather than venom.

With a tug at the reins and a tap of his heels, the knight directed his horse aside just in time to avoid the jet of golden flame. He was not so lucky with the whiplike tail that followed after. It slammed into the horse's armor-covered side with a noise like a bell ringing. The force of the blow toppled the horse and sent it and its rider down in a tangled heap of armor and thrashing legs.

Before he had even regained his feet, the knight managed to unhook a painted steel shield from his saddle just in time to block her mother's second burst of fire. The horse screamed as sparks made contact, but the shield held back most of the flames and both were able to stand to challenge her mother once again.

High above the fight, she frowned. In the past her mother had been able to melt through shields in an instant. In the past, the knight would never have been able to stand again. But dragon's fire cooled over the years until it flickered out altogether, and her mother was no longer young. But age did not affect her cunning, nor her will to fight.

The dragon reared again. This time rather than fire she lashed out with her front feet. One foot hit the knight and sent him flying into a cluster of bushes. The other smacked down on the destrier's rump. Her claws slipped off the polished iron barding.

The horse's ears were flat back and his limbs trembled with fear but he did as he had been trained. He kicked out with both strong back legs and was rewarded by the sharp sound of bones cracking.

The girl frowned again. That was foolish. Like any other flying creature, dragons' bones were hollow, and broke easily. In the past her mother would have been fast enough to avoid that, but here too her age was showing.

Down below her mother hissed in pain and pulled back her injured foot. She directed a short spurt of fire at the offending horse, who still refused to bolt. It turned and cantered over to where the knight was chopping his way out of the bush into which he had fallen.

The dragon followed, ready to continue.

She reared up again as she neared the bush, certainly preparing for the final blow.

The knight stood up in a shower of cut branches, tossed aside his shield, and lunged.

The black dragon screamed, a cross between the call of a hunting hawk and a wolf's howl.

She wrenched herself free from the knight and his blade, which had already begun to melt. The dragon sprang for the sky. Her tail caught the knight across the chest and knocked him back into the smoldering remains of the foliage.

The effort of flying only widened the ugly gash in her belly. No longer predator, but wounded prey, she half crawled and half flew up the side of the tower. She let herself fall through a dragon sized hole in the roof and collapsed in a heap at her daughter's feet.

"Mother!" The girl cried. In the language of dragons, even that distressed cry was full of fang and fire. She waded through the trickles of blood and melting gold to put her hands against the gash and try to push the sundered flesh together again.

The dragon shuddered, and with a peculiar shrugging motion, began to shrink.

"Mother, you can't shapeshift right now!" said the girl. "You'll heal faster in your true form."

Even in this condition, her mother managed to laugh. She stopped transforming and pressed her snout to her daughter's forehead, speaking with gentle practicality. "It's time for my fire to go out, dear one. And truly, I could not wish for a better exit. Would you have me stay here and perish of boredom and old age?"

"Mother!"

"All things change around us, that is the knowledge of dragons as you are well aware. But I would gift you my cloak of scales so that it might protect you, even though I no longer can."

When the dragon began transforming again, the girl did not try to stop her, even as the shifting skin and muscle ripped the gash wider and spilled her mother's lifeblood onto the stone floor. Tears rolled down her face, far hotter than any dragon's blood or breath could be. She wished they were hot enough to burn her, so that she would not have to leave. All things might change, but that did not mean that she wanted them to. Unfortunately dragons were never harmed by fire, least of all their own.

She held onto her mother's body, so much smaller and sadder than she remembered. The brown skin was wrinkled, the once brilliant amber eyes no longer sparkled, the hair that had once fallen like a spill of shining night was matted with blood and sweat. Only a small smile which consistently hovered around her mother's lips was the same. She wrapped her mother’s scaled cloak around her own shoulders, wept over the frail, lifeless body, and waited for the knight to arrive.

He strutted into the room proud and shining, like he thought of himself as a ray of sun touching a land long shrouded by clouds. His step faltered slightly as he took in the incongruities of the scene. Despite what the stories said, this was no lady's chamber, and she was no delicate, doe-eyed princess in need of rescuing. She clung to her mother's body like a lifeline, wearing nothing but dragon's blood and a cloak of shimmering black scales. It was a testament to his personality that these facts did not stop him for long. He spoke, and she understood his strange, soft words, for all dragons have the gift of tongues.

"You're safe now, my lady," he told her as he picked his way around the worst of the still hot pools of blood and melted gold. "I've come to take you to court where you belong." He grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her to her feet.

Anger replaced grief in her heart, turning her blood to fire. She screamed at him, no word in any language, just a cry of frustration and loss and rage. She thrashed in his grip and pried at the steel gauntlets, trying to get free. Where skin touched armor the metal bubbled and melted. The knight winced as drops of hot steel began to burn their way through his gambeson into vulnerable flesh, but he held on.

She hissed and spat at him, and cursed him in the language of dragons, and wished it could be smoke and fire pouring from her lips instead of words.

The heat was enough to melt his armor, but not enough to shake his heart, for he was a knight, as foolhardy as he was brave. The strength he had gained through training well matched the strength she had been born with, and he held on.

He picked her up and held her until her fire fizzled out under the weight of grief and she collapsed into a dead weight, cool to the touch again. Only then did he set her gently on the ground.

She did not move.

She sat mute as he retrieved the saddlebags he had dropped outside the door and began filling them with treasure – the gold and gems that had not been damaged in her mother's death. He was robbing the dead, robbing her, and she couldn't make herself care. He spoke more words in his strange, soft tongue, and she refused to hear them.

Her mother, constant, proud, undefeatable; was dead. That was all that mattered. As for her future, she could not guess. She knew much of knights but little of human customs. She had never wanted to know. She didn't want to know now. So she sat and tried not to think, tried not to feel, as her life fell apart around her.

The knight took no notice. He filled his bags with stolen goods, and slipped the sword of another, less lucky, knight into the empty scabbard at his left hip. He slung the saddlebags over one shoulder, picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all, and left the tower.

For three weeks she did not eat, drink, or speak.

Except on her mother's back, she had never been far from the estate of Dragon's Keep. She had never traveled at length through the wild, creature infested lands outside, nor had she ever seen the dilapidated wall that separated their land from the lands of humans.

She did not see it now.

She noticed nothing of the journey back to the court this knight called home. She slept often, and tried to dream even while awake. To the knight she was a statue, neither resisting him nor responding to him.

She did not fight him when he dressed her in...well, some sort of human fashion, she assumed.

She closed her ears to the words he spoke, first bragging, then angry, then pleading, until he ceased to speak to her altogether and the rest of their journey passed in silence.

But there was no ignoring the court, not really. It was loud, full of people who talked about anything and everything. They talked about her too, making plans for her life without even asking her – not that she cared what they thought, not that she had any intention of responding.

She had never had any interest in humans, and she still didn't.

That did not stop them from being interested in her.

If she had listened to those conversations, she might have understood their actions. But she did not want to listen and she did not want to understand.

For reasons which made sense to them, they gave her back the gold and silver the knight had stolen. They called her lady, and gave her a room in the palace, a trunk full of donated clothing, and sent along three young women who flocked around her, twittering ceaselessly like little birds. Their presence irritated her as they pulled her this way and that way, trying to dress her up like one of them. They succeeded in removing the clothing the knight had given her and replacing it with a single garment before she ran them off with claw and fang and cast the rest of the clothing aside.

She slammed the door behind them.

She just wanted to be left alone, but here she was never alone. The sturdy stone walls pressed in on her, nothing like the decrepit castle she was used to. The sounds of wind, birdsong, and animal life had been replaced with a seemingly never-ending wave of sounds. She drowned in them, the talk and laughter, the thud of boots and the soft switch of fabric as humans moved, the rustle of brooms against rough stone, all of them. She had never been in a place so loud. She had never been exposed to her gift of tongues, which told her the basic meaning of everything said, whether or not she wanted to know.

A particularly abrasive laugh – the laugh of that knight – grated on her ears. During the journey back to court he had been subdued, but here, surrounded by people, he had regained his courage. He was coming to see her, she was certain of it, coming to see what his princess looked like now that she was civilized. But she didn't want to see him. Not him, not the young women, not any of the people here. With a cry like that of a wounded animal she pushed herself out of her seated position, grabbed her mother's cloak, fled through the nearest door, and found herself outside.

She stood for a moment, surprised. The noise of a door opening brought her back to herself. She gathered her wits and ran.

It was not wilderness, this place she found herself in, but it was not stone walls either. She followed stone paths laid neatly on the ground, the clothing she had been pushed into tangling around her legs. There was nowhere to stop, nothing but stone paths and stone fountains with the occasional bush or row of flowers. Even here there were people, people who scattered out of her way and stared after her as she passed. She paid them scant attention.

Dragons were predators by nature, and she had never wondered what a deer might feel while being pursued by her mother. Now though, she did not have to wonder. She thought she had a pretty good idea.

In some ways this fake wilderness was even worse than being inside.

She ran and ran and did not stop until she felt grass under her feet and then she stopped all at once, collapsing onto the ground in a heap. She fought back the sobs that wanted to come out although a few tears escaped to scorch the ground beneath her. She didn't want to be here, but she wasn't about to let these humans see her grieve.

She knew that her mother would not be pleased with this. Dragons were not so emotional. The world changed around them and they adapted to it. They were calm and practical, rational. She never had been good at that. Still, she tried.

Only when she got herself back under control did she look around to see where she had landed.

It was a small grove surrounded by cypress trees. From here, the castle was not even visible. Nor were any people. She breathed, letting the familiar openness chase out the lingering claustrophobia of too much stone and too much metal and too much noise. The muttered conversation from the grounds behind her faded, masked by the sound of branches moving in the wind. Eventually, a few of the braver birds even began to chirp and the area around her sprang to life again, her wild interruption forgotten.

It could almost be one of the courtyards she was used to, save for the fact that someone clearly maintained the area. The grass was too short, too free of wildflowers and fallen branches and leaves. The trees too were too neat. It was still better than where she had been.

She curled in on herself, and began to dream.

She did not return to the room which had been forced upon her. The cypress grove, quiet and solemn, became her retreat. She did not leave it for several days, except to hide deeper in the fake woods when others came looking for her.

The rest of the time she dreamed of the past. Any moment, she thought, her mother could fly overhead – strong as ever, with her black scales glittering like gems in the sun. She would dance in the sky as she always had done. She would shower her beloved daughter with gold she had stolen, scoop her up to go flying, or drop a kill at her feet for them to share.

Nothing would've changed, they would still be together as they should be. Her mother would never have left her on her own to travel to someplace she could not follow. She would, as she had always done, tell her daughter wildly exaggerated stories of the hunt while they ate.

These visions were so strong to her that she did not realize at first that the smell of blood was real. She came back to herself with a start.

A platter of freshly killed venison hovered half a foot from her face. She frowned.

Dragons did not have much of a sense of smell, but the smell of blood was sharp and distinctive. She should have noticed it, or the sound of someone approaching. She would have, if she had not been so determined not to.

Because the meat, naturally, had not made its way there on its own. It was held lightly in the hands of a woman who held herself with the confidence of a knight. Until that moment, she had not known that women could be knights. It certainly had seemed from her mother’s stories that humans were only divided into knights and ladies. But she had seen enough knights in her life to recognize one, even without the armor and sword.

"Don't turn away," the knight said before she even had a chance to do so. "Even dragons have a need to eat eventually." She set the ceramic platter down on the grass and backed off a few paces before dropping into an easy sit.

Three weeks was a long time, even for a dragon. With the smell of fresh meat in front of her, she could no longer pretend not to be hungry. She grabbed a piece from the top and ripped into it, heedless of the mess she caused.

The knight continued to talk, undeterred. "Here I am, on a short visit to my family, and I miss it all," she said. "The whole court is abuzz about Leroy and his Lady Dragon. Tell me, why not just transform and fly away?"

The knight gave her ample time to respond, which she did not do.

"Nothing, hm?" The knight shrugged. "Well, you are a dragon. You of all people ought to know that mourning has to end eventually. I'm surprised you were distraught enough to let it go on this long."

She paused again, and still received no response. "Such a show can only mean you are named after an emotion. Which one is it?"

The bit of meat she was holding slipped her numb fingers to the grass below.

"How-" the dragon hardly even realized she had spoken until after the word was out. This human language was unfamiliar in her mouth and she snapped her fangs shut around the rest of the sentence. It did not matter. One word was enough.

The knight smiled. "Dragons are not unfamiliar to my home country. It pays to know about them. So, your name?"

"It does not translate easily," the dragon said, and felt anger at herself for giving in. She had not wanted to speak to these humans at all, and had even entertained the thought of living in silence until her own flame ran out. But the will to live and thrive runs as strongly in dragons as in humans, and she could no more keep herself from speaking than from eating the meal in front of her.

"I don't mind."

For the first time, the dragon heard the flavor of foreign speech in the words the knight spoke, and recognized them as being different from the things she had half heard over the last few days. This knight, then, was a stranger here too. Still the dragon hesitated, groping for words in a language she understood but had not yet spoken.

"It is the sense of belonging between two or more people who consider themselves family," she finally said, hating how she stumbled over the words. Dragon names came in two flavors: concepts or feelings. Concept names were strong and feeling names were graceful. In the language of dragons her name was beautiful. As sharp as new grown scales and as delicate as a butterfly's wings. In this human language it was long and clumsy, without sense or rhyme.

The knight nodded. "It is a bit long. A sense of belonging between people, hm? In my language we call this 'patrisjie'. As a name here, it would probably be Patrice. And in my home, we would call you Patya."

The dragon growled. "I do not want these human words or this human name," she said.

The knight nodded again. Her hair, brilliant red and cut to be even with her jaw, bobbed in time with the motion. "Soon they will become tired of calling you 'dragon girl' and someone is going to name you. Better it be something close to what you’re used to."

“And it is so easy to lose your true name!" The dragon said. She heard the snap of fangs and crackle of flame in her words, but the knight did not lose her relaxed posture as a wiser person would have done. Then again, that seemed to be the way with knights. She merely plucked a violet out of the grass and turned the flower round and round in her fingers.

"You aren't alone. My name is Felisjyta, but no one here can say it. They just all call me Felicity."

"And why should I care what they call you?" asked the dragon. Suddenly the rest of her meal was no longer appealing. She pushed the tray away, across the grass. "I do not want that name either. I am no friend to knights." She stood and began to walk away.

The knight made no move to follow her, but did speak again. "You know, Felisjyta is just like a dragon name. You would probably say 'the happiness of someone who has experienced recent good fortune'."

It was a very dragon like name, and she knew exactly how they would say such a thing. In the language of dragons, that name was warm and comforting, like curling up next to her mother on a chilly evening. It didn't suit her current mood at all. She shook her head. "Why should I need this feeling of yours? I have not experienced good fortune in a long time."

She left the garden and the meddling knight behind.

Index | Next Chapter

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