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lets-try-some-writing · 1 month ago

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I wonder what was Mars reaction to humans sending him rovers the first time. i imagine Earth probably warned him in advance that humans planned on sending him something (Sojourner was the first sent if i believe correctly) and he knowing what humans are like prepared for the worst definitely

Mars: I really hope this thing won't infect me with anything..

Sojourner: *beeps*

Mars:

Sojourner:*starts collecting rocks*

Mars:

Moon: Earth asks if you're al- *senses Mars em field*Are you crying??

Mars: *deep in fatherhood*No *he is*

This is adorable and it deserves a mini fic. Enjoy.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mars always told himself he didn’t mind the solitude. He was near his brother and close enough to Mortus—or rather Pluto—to feel content with himself. Sometimes Halley came to visit, which was always a pleasant surprise. It was not often someone immune to the rust corroding him happened to be both nearby and actually interested in communication. Earth was certainly nice enough, and Mars eagerly awaited her every message when she saw fit to reach out to him or use Moon as a proxy.

Moon. Mars. Pluto. He would never fully adjust to the new names given to them by his brother’s beloved Terra. Personally, he preferred his Cybertronian name, but he would never dare say as such aloud. Mortus didn’t care, and Fengari, his elder brother, would be prone to lash out if Mars ever voiced his objection to his new name. Not only that, but he wasn’t keen on making Terra upset.

How many vorns had he been in orbit around the Unmaker and the life giving Titan who shielded him? It was hard to keep track without any citizens on his surface to constantly chatter to and about him.

Right. Citizens.

Being in his alternate mode, Mars was incapable of sighing as he wanted to. But as he took control over one of his drones and piloted it to the surface, he let the drone pause and linger on the view. Why had he lived while his wards died? It was not fair. He should have carried them until the very end, bringing them to salvation and away from the fires of Cybertron.

If only there hadn’t been plague. Maybe then he could at least have the chance to take on new citizens and ease the ache in his spark.

No, no. He couldn’t think like that. Contemplating such things almost always led to dark thoughts. It was not allowed. He had to stay calm and composed for Fengari. His poor brother was blind for Prima’s sake. Fengari lost his optics, his citizens, and his ability to take to the stars if he so desired in order to stay with Earth. Fengari suffered more. It was not Mars’s place to weep when he at least had remnants of his people upon his frame in the form of paintwork.

He still had them with him, in his spark and through the echoes they left upon his surface. Sweet Solus, many of their inner habitations were still untouched. He’d ensured it remained that way.

He still had relics. He had echos. He was fine. He had no reason to cry.

Right?

“Primus, our maker... we are so far from you. Can you hear us? Do our sparks still resonate with yours?” He spoke through his drone, letting his voice ring out with only a slight bit of static due to the corrosion of his vessel. He sighed as he received no answer, not that he really expected one. He stared though his drone in silence for a while, the quiet of the void all but deafening.

If he listened closely with his real body, he could hear the faint song of stars, the thrum of their very being radiating nearby. Earth’s Star had quite the pleasant melody. Enough for him to fall into recharge.

But he couldn’t allow that. If he slumbered, he may not wake. Instead, he endured the silence, the isolation. Perhaps Mortus would be kind enough to come and pay him a visit during one of his patrols.

‘Mars? I have news.’

He stalled for a moment as waves of emotion crashed against him. Mars had to pause to translate the EM field communication he found himself assaulted with. Young Terra was not the most educated in matters of gentle or polite correspondence, but she could most certainly be heard.

‘Earth, it is a pleasure to hear from you. What news do you have for me?’

He tried to keep his communication controlled and neutral. But as he sent back a response, he sensed something coming near to him. It had been heading in his direction for a while, but for the longest time he’d simply assumed it to be space debris. Looking more closely, it appeared to be some kind of device.

‘My children have created a drone of sorts. They are sending it to your surface to analyze you. Do not fear; the drone appears to be insignificant and designed purely for observation. I simply wished to warn you.’

Mars almost stiffened, but he forced himself to relax so that his surface would not shift as the thing drew closer. Without a second thought, he moved his drone as far from the potential landing site as he could get without losing track of this incoming drone that was apparently headed his way. He forgot to send a reply for a long while as he watched the thing draw ever nearer.

Earth’s humans were such deadly and destructive beings when they were left unchecked. Mars had witnessed the horrors himself when he watched them drop bombs all over poor Terra’s surface. Even now, the wounds still brought her pain from time to time.

What would happen if her humans found him to be of use for some grand scheme? Would they harm him too? Mars was a Titan; he could survive if he had to. But he would rather not expose himself and, consequently, his kin to Earth’s destructive little scraplet farm. Why she loved them so dearly was beyond him.

‘Thank you for the warning.’

He eventually sent back curtly as he watched the drone finally land on his surface. It felt so very strange to have a new entity roaming his frame. Halley rarely landed, and when she did, her very frame eliminated warmth like a young star barely contained within living metal. This thing was cold, but not necessarily in a wicked sense. It seemed... almost like a protoform, yet lacking a spark. The emotions were familiar, the feeling of potential almost overwhelming.

Mars stared through his drone, his very spark flaring in its chamber as ancient desire rose within him. The drone was tiny, barely the size of the smallest newsparks that he had nurtured before the fires of Cybertron. And yet, as he looked upon the small wheeled entity roaming and prodding at rocks and pebbles like they were the most interesting thing on this side of the galaxy, Mars, or rather, Bellum’s spark, swelled with love.

The ache that had long burned within his core seared as he gazed upon the youth of the small thing roaming his surface. So small. So pure. So full of potential.

Ancient coding sang within him, and before Bellum knew it, his drone moved just a bit closer, although still out of view. This one did not appear to be affected by the rust of his surface. It roamed freely, without a care in the world. Such innocence… Bellum needed to guard it.

Had Earth’s humans sent him this little gift out of kindness? No. They couldn’t have. They did not know he lived. And yet, he couldn’t help the way every part of his processors screamed at him to accept the offering. Such things were done for the sake of an alliance between Titans back on Cybertron. Old habits died hard, and Bellum could hardly contain himself as he fought the urge to have his drone snatch the Earth-born drone and drag it toward his core so he could connect to it intimately.

He couldn’t expose himself. Not yet. But Bellum was a patient being. Let the humans explore through their gift. His scans indicated that the poor drone wouldn’t last more than a few years without maintenance. He would wait until the humans abandoned it, and then, when all was done, he would finally have a chance to serve his purpose once more.

“Sweet little roamer, do not fear. You may not understand now, but soon, when your creators have let you fly away from them, I will take you under my wing.” He all but purred, keeping his vocalizations below the range of the drone as he observed it.

“You will not know fear. You will suffer no illness. I will give you a spark, and when the time is right, I will make you into something more.” His spark flared in affection as the tiny Earth-born gathered rocks, observing and producing soft sounds of affirmation as it went. What a lovely voice it would have once Bellum granted it a spark.

He could hardly wait.

‘Mars, are you in distress?’

Fengari, Moon, whatever designation he went by, sent a message that snapped Mars back to attention. Only after he refocused did he realize he’d been sending out waves upon waves of countless emotions in short, and likely unsetting bursts. His brother’s concerns made sense now.

‘I am perfectly fine, brother. In fact, I feel better than I have in millennia.’

Confusion met Mars’s response. He didn’t pay it much mind as he continued to observe the drone upon his surface. It was just so small.

‘Let Terra know that so long as more of these drones are sent to me, she shall have my full allegiance.’

Shock met him this time, but Mars merely hummed. He had something to hope for now, and he had no intention of missing a single moment of his new firstborn’s life. He would have to get his visual images printed at some point for the little one to see once they developed mentally.

“Explore to your spark’s content, sweet roamer. I shall wait for you.” Mars felt his frame ease and a faint song escape his true vocalizer as he watched the small drone pick up a rock and stare at it.

Soon. Soon he would be a Sire again.

#transformers #maccadam #alternate universe #transformers oc #unicron and earth au #u&e mars #u&e sojourner #transformers fanfic #u&e moon #u&e earth #cute family feels

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the-kr8tor · 7 months ago

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can I make a request about prowler hobie and reader is treating his wounds?? Prowler hobie is so slept on ☹️ give my boy some attention too!

you don’t have to though 🫶🏾

Yippeee! Prowler! Hobie ❤️ thank you for requesting!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader

Word count: 1.4 k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Prowler! Hobie, TW blood, CW injury, CW violence, Hurt/comfort

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Your trainers squeak against the moist pavement. The harsh rain is battering against your coat as you try to desperately shield yourself. You hug your bag tighter as a speeding car passes next to you, the sound of hurried sirens follow right after it. The smell of burnt rubber and exhaust smoke enters your nostrils, you cough loudly from the intrusion.

One word settles in your tired mind: Home, and perhaps him too if he ever decides to come home to you tonight.

You don't blame Hobie, he's had it rough and so does the city. With the death of spiderman, anyone who has a need for quick cash or a bone to pick with the city are now roaming the streets freely. No one can stop them, the city's finest or what's left of them are either desperately trying to do their best or joining the worst. Hobie is doing neither. He has his own goals, you just wish you were a part of it too.

You miss Hobie, truly. You miss the days where your only problem was what to eat for dinner, you miss the days where you and Hobie would go out the entire night and only come home when the sun has risen with grins on your faces and laughter stuck in your throat as he kisses you silly. You miss your Hobie, but you have to embrace the prowler too, for they are one and the same.

Sniffing from the cold, fog settles near your feet. Someone whistles down the street so you turn the other corner quickly and away from them. Fear has settled in your stomach and made it into its home. As you walk faster, heavy footsteps behind you get closer and closer. They whistle out, sneering and jeering as they follow you.

With your back turned away from them, you run.

Sprinting off, you hear hurried yells after you, then gasps, and suddenly you hear fists hitting skin. Boots crunching bones underneath it, loud thumps of bodies hitting the ground. Then, silence. The quiet makes you slowly turn around.

Heart in your stomach, you see him standing over seven unconscious bloodied men. His suit whirrs, sparks fly off from the purple lights that snake along his arms. He stomps at someone's arm, bones smashed under his foot, and you notice the blood leaking off his side.

“You're bleeding.” You breathlessly say, taking a step forward towards Hobie, he turns around to face you.

The streetlight above him serves as his spotlight, and the pavement below him is his stage. His mask shines in the yellow light, the faint purple lines in place of his eyes stare at you emotionlessly. He flexes his fists, steam rises off the gauntlets like an engine.

“Are you hurt?” He asks in a mechanical voice, none of the softness you were used to, none of the teasing tone you love dearly. It's him though, under all the steel covering his body, it's him, you're sure of it.

“You're the one who's bleeding.” You finally find the courage to stand side by side with him. Placing your cold hand against the colder metal where his warm ichor seeps through, you try your best to stop the flow. “Let me take you home, please.”

“I can’t—”

“Please,” you whisper softly, that's only for his ears to hear. “Hobie, let me fix this. Come home.”

After a beat, the rain drenches you both, and he nods. “... I'll come home, just for tonight.” And it's the best thing you've heard since everything fell.

—

You thank your past self for ‘forgetting’ to unlock your fire escape. He doesn't comment on it, knowing the real reason behind the lack of lock.

Hobie lets you enter first through the window while you take off your wet coat. He roams his eyes at the flat that hasn't changed much since he last saw it. The leather jacket he unceremoniously left on the back of the settee still hangs there, his trainers are still in the shoe rack by the door. His favourite mug still sits next to yours. The walls are still the same green you two once painted together. It still smells like home, it's still his home.

“Hobie?” You call softly on the couch. Patting the space beside you, you smile hopefully at him.

Wordlessly, he unclaces his boots near the windowsill, remembering how much you hated outdoor shoes inside the flat. Your heart reaches out to him at the small movement, you miss him, and now that he's standing in front of you, it's harder to not run up to him and whisper how much you missed him.

The metal of his suit creaks as he sits down. His blood stains the steel, the purple lights slightly blind you. Noticing your narrowed eyes, he shuts off the light, you smile in thanks.

“I can't treat you with the suit still on you.” You quietly say as you splash your hands with alcohol, you put on gloves and the smell of antiseptic makes you wish the circumstances were different.

“If you wanted to get me naked you could've just asked.” He teases, mask still on, voice still unrecognizable.

Instead of a giggle that he's used to hearing, you choke back a sob that you quickly hide with a calculated sniff. You give him a tight-lipped smile, hands suddenly shaking while holding on to the bandages.

Hobie takes your hands, calming you with his gloveless hands. He guides your hands to the clamps that hold his suit to his body. Silently and comfortably, he lets you take off the top part of his suit. It clunks loudly as it falls on the wooden floors, and he now realizes the lack of carpet.

“What happened to the old carpet?” He asks while you press on the gash near his hip.

“I dropped a bowl of soup, I couldn't get rid of the smell so I just threw it away.”

“You could've gotten it cleaned, you liked that carpet.”

“It's just a carpet, Hobie.” You look up at him through your lashes. “Besides, I don't have money to get it professionally cleaned.”

He knits his brows underneath his mask, “what happened to the money I sent you?”

“‘Sent’ isn't a word that I would use, more like ‘dropped off in front of my door like a stray kitten’” You sigh, blinking, “I used it don't worry, I've put it to good use.” You stop him before he could reply. “And I'm not starving, or behind on rent. Just— some people need it more than me.” The bleeding has finally stopped so you inspect the wound if it needs stitching. “I'm doing fine, don't worry about me.”

“It needs stitching, here let me—”

“Let me do this one thing for you, please.” You almost break in front of him. You want to savour the short moment with him, because if he was the one to suture it, he'll be out of the flat before you could even say goodbye. Just like last time. “Just…” you wipe a tear off your cheek, “I missed you, a lot. And I want you to just stay a few minutes longer.” You honestly tell him.

Hobie holds your face tenderly, thumb rubbing along your tear stained cheeks, the same softness that he doesn't show the people he fights night after night. They see it as weakness, he doesn't, he sees you as his reprieve from the world that wants to crush him in between its gnarled teeth.

He wishes everything was different, that everything would go back to normal where the seven don't rule the entire city, where they didn't plunge the whole city into darkness. Where he would hug you from behind as you two make dinner, where it's just you and him on the couch watching a film that makes you scrunch your face into annoyance.

He misses you too.

“Can I see you?” You ask gently as you hold his hands that's on your cheeks.

Hobie takes his hands away from your face, and for a second you think that he'll leave you right where you sat. But he brings his hands near his temples, with a whirr and a mechanical hiss, he takes off his mask, revealing the face you love so much.

There's new scars on his face, One underneath his left eye that makes your heart almost stop at how it must've felt when it was still fresh. An unrecognizable newer cut on his nose has you weeping.

“‘m doin' fine, don't worry about me, love.” Hobie holds you close, he doesn't mind the ache on his side anymore, arms around your torso, he presses you close to his heart.

“Don't use my own words against me, Hobart.” You mumble against his skin, the same word crosses your mind again, home.

“There’s the spark I miss so much,” he lays his forehead on top of yours, letting his warmth spread over to you. Home, this is his home.

“I missed you too.” You could only hope that the reunion isn't brief as you stitch him back together again.

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shalomniscient · 1 year ago

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worship (like a dog) || rahu x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

Rahu is hardly the first person you know like this, in fact a few sinners come to mind immediately, but she is perhaps the worst of them all. She does little to conceal her desire; you know the way she looks at you, can feel it against your skin, and yet Rahu herself would sooner gnaw her own leg off than ever admit to it. Tonight, however, you intend to put an end to this fruitless and frustrating back and forth—one way or another. Or, you help Rahu take what she wants. (and she does, more than you expect.)

cw. [NSFT][MDNI] rahu has a dick in this (a big one), deepthroating, facefucking, breeding, squirting, use of puppy as a pet name, multiple orgasms, praising, switch!rahu, switch!reader

wc. 4.2k of pure filth

You don’t normally wear dresses like these, so revealing and eye catching. You’ve always been more comfortable in the shirt, slacks and coat of your typical attire, given its sheer functionality and the way it sufficiently shields you from any wandering eyes. But desperate times call for desperate measures—like trying to get your self-proclaimed bodyguard, Rahu, to finally take you like you know she’s always wanted.

So here you stand, in front of a full-length mirror in your bedroom after coming back from another FAC-sponsored gala, Rahu standing vigilantly in the doorway just outside the door you left ever so slightly ajar. You can feel Rahu’s silver gaze burn against your skin as you undo the clasp in the front of your dress. The sleeves slip from your shoulders, revealing the angular line of your collarbones, and you hear Rahu’s breath hitch sharply. You eye her carefully in the mirror, aware that the neckline of your dress has dropped dangerously low. Right now, the only thing keeping the dress on your body now was the zip in the back.

“Rahu,” you call to her. “Will you help me with the zipper?”

Rahu’s fingers twitch, but then she nods. Stiffly, she walks towards you, until she is almost pressed against your back. The mask she wears echoes the sound of her deep, steady breathing, and the first touch of her gloved hands against your back almost makes you shiver. Slowly, carefully, Rahu pulls the zipper down, and in the reflection you can see the way her eyes follow the movement of her hands, watching as more of your skin is exposed. You sigh blissfully as your back is exposed to the cool air of the room, a balm against your heated skin.

“Thank you,” you murmur, turning ever so slightly to look Rahu in the eyes.

“Will that be all?” she asks, her voice noticeably rougher, deeper. It makes goosebumps break over your bare skin.

“I don’t know,” you counter, taking the smallest step closer. The upper half of your dress is still bunched in your arms, giving her a sinfully clear view of the curve of your chest, helpfully uncovered by the fact that you chose to forgo a bra tonight. And your panties, but Rahu would only find that out later. Hopefully. “Do you want it to be?”

She blinks, and you see her throat bob as she swallows. “I— I don’t—“

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Rahu,” you whisper, your voice taking on an almost desperate edge. You lean up, close enough that only a few more inches would have your lips brushing the snarling face of her mask. “I want you. Do you want me?”

Rahu makes a sound between a growl and a whine and your blood sings. Her eyes were blown wide, silver nearly eclipsed by the blackness of her pupils. “If— if that is what you desire—“

You shake your head, taking one of Rahu’s hands in yours in an oddly intimate gesture that seemed a little out of place in the moment’s tense atmosphere. “Tell me what you want, Rahu.”

“I…” her words are strained, and briefly, you think she might step away. That the loyalty that keeps her by your side would be the same thing that drags her away from you tonight. But then her hand in yours squeezes gently, and her silver gaze burns with resolve. “I… want this. You.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, an aching relief flooding through your body. A smile grows on your lips as your other hand finally releases your grip on the fabric of your dress, allowing it to slip off your body and collect like a silken pool at your feet. Rahu’s eyes flick down immediately to your exposed chest, and you laugh softly.

“Like what you see?” you tease, free hand now daintily tracing the edges of Rahu’s mask. Your finger hooks in the clasp of her mask, tugging ever so slightly. “Then why don’t you take this off and have a taste?”

Within seconds, she’s ripped the offending accessory off, letting it clatter onto the floor carelessly. And then with a forwardness you weren’t expecting, Rahu crashes her lips against yours in a bruising, breathtaking kiss, her large hand shooting out to grab at your waist, pulling you closer and squeezing. The pressure makes you gasp into the kiss, and Rahu seizes the opportunity to force her tongue into your mouth.

Pressed so close to her like this, you become aware of something nudging against your thigh. You shift your hips, subtly grinding against her front, and Rahu groans, breaking away from you, her lips kiss-swollen and her expression pinched in one of beautiful pleasure. A flush creeps up her skin, and you feel her twitch in her pants.

“You’ve gotten so worked up already,” you hum, her embarrassment utterly adorable. Your hand trails lower, reaching for her belt. “Let me—“

But Rahu catches your wrist, shaking her head. “It’s fine. I want… you first.”

“Oh.” Rahu’s thrown another curveball at you, but you don’t mind. Definitely not. You smile up at her, the thrill of seeing your tall, mysterious bodyguard now a flushed, hard mess just for you making the heat in your core feel almost unbearable. “Alright, then.”

You lead her to the foot of your bed, then take a seat. Rahu looks a little puzzled, but then you spread your legs, and Rahu gets the message. She swallows, eyes now fixated on your pussy, the slightest glossy sheen coating the inner lips. Slowly, she sinks to her knees, until her face is level with your hips, and you card your fingers through her long, dark hair. The sight of Rahu staring up at you from between your legs, silver eyes swirling with barely restrained hunger, makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“Can I?” she asks, her hands coming to rest on your knees. Her warm breath against your wetness makes you sigh contentedly. “I want to…”

“You can, Rahu,” you encourage gently, applying the slightest pressure to the back of her skull. With your permission, Rahu dives in, licking a long stripe from your fluttering cunt up to your clit. The action pulls a low moan from you, your fingers tightening reflexively in her hair. Rahu repeats the movements a few times, before focusing her attention on your hole, prodding her tongue inside in a way that has you throwing one leg over her shoulder to pull her in closer. As you watch her eagerly lap at your pussy, you can’t help the small giggle that escapes you, barely audible over the squelching noises of her devouring you.

“You—mhm—look so good like this, Rahu,” you breathe out, nails lightly scratching at her scalp. “Like a—ah—cute little puppy.”

The words make Rahu whine against you, and you see her hips buck against the floor. Rahu’s eyes are screwed shut, the grip she has on your thighs almost bruising as a full-body shudder wracks through her. You laugh properly this time, very pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, did you like that?” you croon at her, petting her head like you would a dog. “Do you like it when I call you puppy? My puppy?”

“Fuck,” Rahu hisses into your pussy, strained and hoarse. One hand releases your thigh to fumble with her belt, desperate to free what must be her painfully hard cock right now.

“Focus, puppy,” you whisper, tugging her hair a little forcefully, pushing her face back where you need her to be. “You said you wanted me first, right?”

Rahu makes a strangled noise, but resumes what she was doing before, though with a touch more desperation this time around. Her tongue plunges in and out of your gushing hole, smearing the lower half of her face in slick. One particular thrust has her nose brushing your clit at the same time her tongue drives deep into you, and you moan loudly, your heel digging into her clothed back.

“Just like that, puppy,” you praise, feeling your first orgasm of the night tightening in your belly. “Just a little bit more, being such a good puppy for me right now.”

Rahu’s hips start bucking against the floor again as she feels more wetness collect on her tongue. She continues to eat you out relentlessly despite the growing burn in her jaw, the sound of your pitched moans and whines sounding like heaven to her ears. With one final expert stroke of her tongue she tips you off the edge, and you throw your head back in a long, drawn out moan, your fingers fisting as tightly as possible in Rahu’s hair, the sting painfully pleasurable. You gush into her mouth, the sweet taste of you spilling into Rahu’s hungry, waiting mouth. She gives a few more light licks to your twitching hole before pulling back, her breath heavy, face almost shining in the low light in the room.

You release your grip on Rahu’s hair and sigh happily, smiling indulgently down at the Sinner on her knees. “You’re so messy, puppy,” you say softly, cupping her face and swiping your thumb across her lips. “But you did so well for me, so I should reward you, right?”

“Please,” Rahu breathes out, her voice brittle. You lean down and kiss her, moaning at the taste of yourself on her lips.

“On your feet, puppy,” you whisper into the kiss. Rahu rises shakily, standing to her full height. From where you sit on the bed, you’re now face to face with her crotch—where a very sizable tent pokes against her pants. You admire the clothed size of it for a second, then grip her toned thighs, tugging her close enough that she’s only inches away from your mouth. Rahu makes a choked noise, her hands flying to your head, a beautiful red flush settling on her cheeks.

“Shirt off,” you order quietly. Reluctantly, Rahu releases your hair, her hands rising up to fumble with the buttons of her shirt and tie, practically ripping her clothes off in her haste until she’s completely bare. You admire her full breasts and the hard contours of her abs, your eyes tracing over each scar that criss-cross her body, some paler than others. Gently, you lean up to press a kiss against a newer one, and feel her stiffen against your touch. “Relax, puppy. I’m getting there…”

Ever so slowly you move lower, until your nose is pressed against her navel. Your hands deftly unbuckle her belt, and you let it fall to the floor along with her slacks. You laugh at the wet patch on the front of her boxers, teasingly kissing the clothed tip, just enough to get Rahu groaning. Then, you hook your fingers in the waistband and pull, finally setting Rahu’s aching, weeping cock free.

It’s pretty, you think. Just like Rahu herself. She’s definitely not the thickest, but she certainly makes up for it in sheer length, the reddish tip curved ever so slightly. Rahu watches as you stare appreciatively at her cock, her nerves feeling frayed by desire.

“Please…” she begs, ever so slightly rolling her hips forward, so that her cockhead bumps against your cheek. “I want— I need—“

“Shh, don’t worry, puppy,” you say soothingly, languidly wrapping your hand around her length and delighting in the way she sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. “I’ll take good care of you. Just tell me what you want, okay?”

“Want you,” she chokes out brokenly, “y-your mouth.”

“Good puppy,” you say with a smile, then start taking her into your mouth. Rahu swears as she feels your tongue swirl around the tip, lapping at the precum smeared on it from before. Your eyes briefly roll back into your head as the taste of her blooms on your tongue, a taste so distinctly Rahu you feel your own wetness gathering between your thighs again. You keep going, taking more and more of her into your mouth, until you feel her bump the back of your throat. You open your eyes again, and make sure to make direct eye contact with her as you draw back, all the way until you let go of her tip with a pop. Rahu whines, her hand fisting in your hair, her chest heaving at her own strained breaths.

“Eyes on me, puppy,” you order lightheartedly before swallowing her, but this time your hand pumps whatever remaining length doesn’t fit in your mouth. Rahu grips your hair tightly, needing all her willpower to hold her back from fucking your face. You hollow your cheeks and press your tongue against her cock, your hand sometimes wandering down to toy with her balls. Rahu pants above you, eyes almost watering at how fucking good you were sucking her off. But she keeps focused on you, like the good puppy she is.

And so you get to see fully the way her eyes disappear into her skull when you take all of her into your mouth, letting her fat cockhead bully its way down your throat. Your throat spasms, unused to the intrusion, and you breathe in harshly through your nose to quell the mildly uncomfortable sensation, because the expression on Rahu’s face right now was something absolutely worth it. Only then do you start sucking her off in earnest, bobbing up and down on her cock. The wet sounds echo throughout the room, as you devour her with as much intensity as she did you a few minutes ago.

“I’m— I’m going to—“ Rahu croaks out, her hips jerking forward as her legs feel unsteady beneath her. You blindly reach for her other hand, and bring it to your face. You look up at her, and hope she gets the message.

Use me.

Rahu’s pupils blow wide, and you feel her twitch in your mouth. Hesitance peeks out through the fog of lust, and you whine pitifully at her. You’d beg, but you’re too busy keeping her cock in your mouth. Rahu swallows, and you see her lust win as her gaze takes a dangerous edge to it that has you squeezing your thighs together. Her other hand winds in your hair, and she pulls back slowly, almost slipping out completely before ramming her way back in, making you choke.

Her pace is brutal as she chases her high, going balls deep with each sharp drive of her hips. Tears burn the corner of your eyes but you love it, the way she uses your mouth like it’s her own personal cocksleeve. Rahu hunches over as her orgasm creeps up on her, groaning each time she bottoms out in your throat. Her thrusts start to get erratic as she gets closer and closer until—

“Fuck, c-cumming!” she whines, planting herself as deep as she can go and pressing you against her crotch. You gag as her warm cum fills your throat like a torrent, your fingers clawing at her thighs as you breathe in through your nose. You don’t know how long Rahu keeps cumming for but she cums a lot, and you try to swallow all of it but some of it escapes the seal of your lips around her cock, dribbling creamy white down your chin. She pulls you off her with a pop, moaning at the sight of her cum smeared on your face. Her cock is still hard, resting on your cheek.

Your tongue darts out to cheekily lick a stripe up the side and Rahu jerks from the oversensitivity.

“Seems like you still want more, puppy,” you tease, letting yourself fall back onto the bed. Languidly, you spread your legs, showing off your dripping pussy that had only gotten wetter when she fucked your face. You run a finger through your soaked folds and shudder, parting them so Rahu can get a good look at your painfully empty hole as it clenches around nothing. “You want to fuck this one too?”

Rahu growls, crawling on top of you and pinning your wrists to the bed. She shuts you up with a kiss, which turns into a moan as her cock catches on your hole. It has you sighing in pleasure too, anticipation thrumming beneath your skin at the idea of Rahu filling you up with that gorgeous cock of hers.

“C’mon puppy, you can put it in,” you encourage, rolling your hips against hers. You lean up, your teeth grazing her earlobe as you wrap your arms around her broad, muscled back. “Fill me up, make me yours. Take what you want.”

“Mine,” she rasps out, dragging her own teeth against the column of your neck. She lines her hips up against yours once, twice, before sinking in, her fat tip breaching your tight hole. Rahu snarls against your neck in pleasure as you throw your head back and moan, eyelids fluttering at the sensation of being filled. Inch by inch more of Rahu’s cock fills your needy pussy until her balls kiss your ass, and you can feel her pressed against your cervix.

“F-fuck, you’re so big, puppy,” you pant, your voice shaky. “Fill me up s-so good.”

“You’re so tight,” she grits out, slowly drawing back. If fucking your mouth was heaven, then fucking your drooling cunt would definitely be ascending to divinity. When she thrusts back in she goes all the way to the hilt again, forcing a cry from your lips. The neighbors would probably file a noise complaint tomorrow, but Rahu can’t bring herself to care about them when she’s balls deep in the best pussy she’s ever had.

Her pace is hard and deep, and you almost go cross eyed with each thrust. Her length allows her to reach places no one had ever reached before, and it’s only a matter of time before she finds just that right spot that has you creaming on her cock. And when she finally does you swear, nails clawing down her back as the coil in your belly gets impossibly tight.

“Right there, puppy, right there— just like that,” you babble, and Rahu angles her hips just right to hit it every single goddamn time. Your cunt clenches on Rahu’s dick like it’s your lifeline, and Rahu feels her own climax build up again embarrassingly quickly. She pounds into you relentlessly, your wetness from earlier splashing out onto the sheets and against her thighs.

“Gonna cum, puppy,” you whimper between moans, locking your legs around Rahu’s lower back to draw her in deeper. “Cum with me.”

Rahu’s pace falters, becoming less rhythmic but her aim is still mind-numbingly accurate. She whines into your neck as she feels the pressure in her loins build and build and then you deliberately tighten your core and squeeze around her and she’s gone. Rahu bites down into your shoulder as she cums, hilting as deep as she can go, pressing harshly against that spot in your pussy that has you creaming all over her cock too.

Your walls pulse around her as she spills warm, thick cum into your cunt, as if milking her for all she’s worth. Her hips stutter from overstimulation, her brain feeling like it’s turning into mush, but she’d rather endure this forever than pull out. You feel her cum fill every inch of your cunt, some of it spilling out due to the sheer amount and dripping down your ass. You can’t even hear your own screams of pleasure, entirely consumed by the force of your orgasm.

When you finally come to again, Rahu is hunched over you, but her hips don’t stop. Her thrusts are jerky and uneven, cock still spilling into your cunt, but she seems too far gone to even think to stop. She bullies her way deeper into you, as if wanting to get all the way past your cervix to dump her cum right into your womb. You writhe beneath her, overstimulation setting your nerve endings on fire. You can feel your mind slipping slowly, but you retain enough semblance of coherent thought to try and push Rahu off, not for her to stop completely but just to slow down.

“R-Rahu, puppy, slow down,” you whine, tears prickling at your eyes as Rahu keeps targeting that spot inside of you. “‘s too much!”

Rahu growls at that, her silver eyes taking on a feral edge as they glare into your teary ones. She pulls out swiftly and you sigh at the reprieve, only to be manhandled onto your front in an instant. Rahu flips you like you weigh nothing—and to her, you might as well have. You barely have time to process what she’s doing before she’s tugging your hips up, lining her cock with your pussy and sinking balls deep into you again. Your back arches and your lips part in a silent scream as Rahu resumes her brutal pace, rutting into you like some sort of wild animal.

“I’m taking what I want,” she says roughly, echoing your previous words, leaning down to snarl them against the shell of your ear. Her teeth graze your neck and you sob, cunt clenching and fluttering as your mixed cum is forced out and drips onto the sheets below. One of Rahu’s hands grips your hip tight enough to bruise, while the other slips lower to toy with your clit. The assault of her fingers on the sensitive nub is far too much for you, combined with the way her cock is consistently hitting that perfect spot. The coil in your belly is wound tight, way too tight.

“Rahu, wait, I’m gonna—” you choke out between moans, trying to warn her, only for the hand on your hip to move to your neck and tug you upwards so that you’re on your knees as Rahu slams her cock into you. The new angle pulls another strangled sob from you as her fingers work relentlessly at your clit. Your hips twitch uncontrollably, not knowing if you want to run from the pleasure or to it. “Rahu, please, please, please—”

The hand around your neck squeezes, her teeth ghosting the previous bite on your shoulder as she briefly cuts off your oxygen and the coil snaps, furiously. With a wail, you squirt all over the sheets, turning them a shade darker. Streams of it spill from your pussy as you go utterly brainless on Rahu’s cock, still thrusting away. You don’t get a warning, or perhaps you simply couldn’t sense anything beyond the bone-deep pleasure pulsing through every fiber of your being, but Rahu cums too, hilting as deep as she can go and dumping another load into your used cunt, her teeth sinking deep into your shoulder.

Her hips stutter as she rides out her orgasm, fucking her cum deeper into your womb. You’re practically boneless in her grasp, head lolled listlessly onto her shoulder, eyes half lidded as your pussy spasms with the aftershocks. When Rahu finally goes still, she releases her hold on your neck and the arm around your waist, and you tip forward onto the ruined sheets, utterly exhausted. Rahu, still buried inside you, follows, slumping over you as she pants into your shoulder.

After a minute (or ten, you aren’t quite sure, since Rahu had seemingly fucked the concept of time out of you), you gather enough braincells to speak a proper sentence.

“You were really pent up, weren’t you?” you tease, a little breathlessly, turning your head to look at her. Her gaze is softer somehow, and definitely more relaxed. Rahu hums instead of answering, eyes flicking down to your lips. Gently, almost affectionately, she leans in and kisses you, lazily swiping her tongue along your lip. You can taste yourself on her, and a shiver runs through you. When you pull away, you can’t help but smirk a little, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Also… puppy, huh?”

Rahu’s eyes widen and then she groans, but you don’t miss the way her cock twitches inside of you. She buries her face against the damp skin of your back and you giggle at her embarrassment. “Shut up,” she mumbles, wrapping her arms around your waist and squeezing you. You can’t see her face from this angle, but the tips of her ears are a stunning shade of red. “We should… get cleaned up.”

As much as you’d like to continue teasing her, Rahu was right. The state of your body and your sheets was definitely less than sanitary at the moment. Slowly, Rahu started to pull out. You wince as your oversensitive walls spasm, and Rahu presses soft kisses against your back in apology. She slips out with a squelch, and you sigh, suddenly feeling too empty. Rahu helps you sit up, and you shudder at the feeling of her cum and yours starting to dribble out of your pussy. Rahu sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, but thankfully, she doesn’t get hard again. As much as you enjoyed it, you don’t think your pussy could take another pounding from her.

Well. Not yet, at least.

(You end up showering with Rahu, to ‘save on your water bill’. Suffice to say, actually getting clean turned out to be a secondary objective. But neither you nor Rahu really seemed to care, so all’s well that ends well, right?)

#sev.writes #[nsft]#rahu x reader #path to nowhere x reader #ptn x reader #ptn rahu x reader #ptn rahu #rahu smut #rahu nation i come bearing gifts #that first paragraph intro at the start?? yeah that took me days #the filth itself i crunched out in under two hours #the duality of writers #and yeah i might have a bit of an oral fixation. sue me

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the-midnight-blooms · 5 months ago

Text

sincerely, yours | jyh

masterlist

Trope: Unrequited Love

Dear Yunho,

I hope this letter find you well, whether you open it now or decades later when you sit at my grave. Perhaps you’ve married again, and another child sits in your arms- I'll never truly know how much I mean to you.

Whoever had said falling in love was a blessing had clearly never fallen in love with the wrong person in their life. Such an astute claim that was. Falling in love was one the worst things that could have ever happened to me, especially since the deadly case of Hanahaki was up for grabs.

I will not sugar-coat it, I love you as dearly as if you are mine. I love you as if I can have you. I love you as if I am entitled to you. I always have, and will until I am torn apart by this wretched illness.

Perhaps she had acted too resistant in the face of love. Acting like it was a sin for women on a dark path, yet at night she dreamed that in the dead of a void her lover would crawl to her and ensnare her in his arms. Pepper her with gentle kisses and unbroken stares. Perhaps that was the reason why Yunho had first been warded away from her, taking on many lovers. Always rushing back to her to tell her how perfect each woman was, how he cherished them, fixing onto their smile, their eyes, their beauty unparalleled. There was something about them that made his heart swoon and something about her that rebuked him.

“Then who will hold you at night, when you are so lonely that you cannot even comfort yourself?” He asked her one evening, sat under a great oak tree heads on each other shoulders; the action itself burning her heart- how she wished he wanted her the same way she wanted him. You. Will you not hold me? Will you not shield from the terrors of this world that I am so frightened against?

He had come to her in the torpidity of the night, finally, heart yearning as he realised that where he should have spoken aloud his lovers name, he said hers. Where his lover should have been soaring through his dreams, carrying his child, plastering kisses all over his face, running down the sand on the crust of the roaring sea; it was her.

"Yunho? What's wrong?" With watery eyes he stared down at her, body wracking with sobs.

"It's you. You're all I have ever wanted."

Who should I blame for being so devoted to you? I can’t blame myself, I’m sorry. It hurts too much and already the bronchi of my lungs have been replaced with the sturdy branches of a willow tree. Flowers now bloom on the membrane of cells, tissues all compressed between saccharine petals. You may laugh at my poetry but you adored it once. After all, once our souls were bound in holy matrimony, did I not gift you a poem every anniversary? Did you not read those words aloud me under the cover of the night, as if it was your soul speaking to me and not I?

An ecru, vintage radio sat perched upon the wooden worktop, in an equally old kitchen on the outskirts of the country. Just two miles below, down the grassy hilltop lead to the sea-the rush of the tides blanketing the sand, drawing it towards the deep. Delicate waves enveloped each other, producing a cacophony of sounds that drowned out the hum of the radio. The humidity of the kitchen suffocated her, as the flames of the oven whispered to the baked good blemishing it with a golden-brown that would soon prompt her to pull it from the rack. Wandering to the front porch, she followed her lover's figure saunter up the hill-his pace increasing as she opened her arms out for him. Swooping her up from the ground, he spun her around in the air-his tight grip central around her waist. A shriek escaped from her lips as he did so. Gently, he put her down, the couple laughing synchronously as she dragged him into the kitchen. Flopping down onto the chair, Yunho went straight to the radio-sitting on top of the worktop, fiddling with its button an array of tunes inbounding the pale kitchen walls. Settling upon a popular Latin song, he got off the countertop- beginning to sway his hips to the music. When his movements became much more faster and fluid, she could not help but erupt in a fit of laughter. He reached out for her hands, enamouring her hands within his.

"You know I can't dance." He laughed, recalling the memory where she almost tripped on her wedding dress in front of a crowd of people gawking at them during the first dance. Turning the dial, he rested his hands on her waist gazing down at her. Resting her chin on his chest she peered up at him with her own doe eyes. Remaining in each other arms as the world swept by, wind rushing in from the window lace curtain fluttering in the breeze. A sweet smell drove out from the oven, she hastily pried herself from his embrace grabbing the tea towel.

"What have you got in the oven?" he pondered, as she went to her knees opening the oven door. A small smirk formed on her lips. He looked over her shoulder. "Buns?" Holding back giggles, she composed herself before looking up at him with a deadpan face nodding dubiously.

"Interesting choice. I thought you were baking a cake. Never mind, these are nice." He rambled as she flipped over the buns onto the wire rack, leaving them to cool. "How long were they in the oven for?" He winced slightly as he tried to reach for one, sharply retracting his hand away as the hot surface lacerated his finger.

"About four-five weeks." He gave her a confused look, as she turned around meandering to the living room. Five weeks? He looked back at the buns. He knew croissants often took three days to make, but five weeks for buns? As if a switch had flicked in his head, he stuck his head in the living room doorway.

"We have a bun in the oven?" Nodding, he swept her off the floor like a bride, spinning her around in his arms as if she weighed nothing to him. "WE HAVE A BUN IN THE OVEN!"

You may have once told me you adored me, but you no longer do now.

She recalled staring down at the loose petal of a bright pink dicentra flower in her fingers, blood splattered across the crystal white sink in her bathroom. A strangling sensation fulfilled her throat, slumping onto the lid of the toilet seat. Beads of sweat formed across her forehead, the cogs in her brain stopping for a split second as fatigue gnawed at her. The pounding on the bathroom door startled her, shoving the pink petal in her pocket- she opened the tap using her fingers to scrub away the splatter of her blood that remained on the sink. Looking down she found her niece peering up at her with her wide eyes and an innocent face, her little lips lightly gaped as she took in her auntie's dishevelled state. Lifting up her niece in her arms, she pecked her chubby cheeks a giggle eructed from her as she walked into her bedroom. Yunho sat on the edge of the bed, taking off his work tie a sheepish smile of his face. Nari's short arms held out for her uncle, in a disinterested manner Yunho took her from his wife's hold, lazily entertaining his niece.

"You could at least pretend to be happy when you play with Nari." His wife taunted, late at night in a hushed tone as her niece fell into a deep slumber.

"She's not my child, I don't see why." A loud thud echoed in the room as he dropped his phone onto the night stand.

"Yunho." she snapped, eyebrows furrowed in anger. He never was like this, something had happened after her miscarriage. Like a lever had been pulled, refiguring his kind-hearted nature into a malicious monster. It struck her heart with fear, that now that she could not give him a child-he longer wanted her. "She is still a baby, how would you like it if someone did that to your child?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't have one, do I?" As if a blow had been struck against her, she rolled her body in the opposite direction, in the bed, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. Why are you holding it against me? She wanted to say. A deep sigh escaped from his lips, he indolently patted his wife's shoulder as if it would compensate for the damage ensued by his apathy. Erupting in a harsh fit of coughs, a current of petals flew from her mouth blessing the earth beneath.

To ask me stop loving you is like asking for the earth to stop orbiting the sun. To ask me is to tell me to stop breathing. Oh my darling, my lover divine, I wish I could. No matter what I do, you won’t love me back. So I plead of you to acknowledge my suffering. To know that others may blame you for the way you taunted me. Because I never meant anything more to you than someone to fill your lonely nights when nobody else wanted you.

Over the subsequent months, her health had deteriorated significantly which had not gone unnoticed by her husband. Her eyes had sunken into its pockets, painted by dark circles highlighting the restless nights where the pain denied her sleep.

"You never told me what the doctor said." Nailing her eyes to the chopping board, the knife cut fluently down at the fruit sweeping it up in a plastic container. She hadn't told Yunho, it was Hanahaki. Neither could she forget the pitying look in the doctor's eyes when she revealed it to her. A married woman suffering from Hanahaki? Just how cruel could the world get?

"They're just running some blood tests. They haven't got back to me on the results, it's probably nothing. If it was important they would have called me." Yunho frowned, as he put his lunchbox in his bag. Walking with him to the foyer, he kissed her forehead before leaving to walk to his car parked on the drive way. The pain in her chest alleviated but not so much that she did not sink to knees when the car pulled out from the driveway heaving for air as she felt her lungs being pierced by the abrasive bark of a tree.

Where petals had drifted out of her mouth, flowers now bloomed. For one evening, Yunho came back home from work finding his wife draped over their shared bed- lips shrouded with petals. flowers at her neck. Concerned he shook her awake, with bleary eyes she sat up fingers pressing into her temples. Lifting up the petals with his slender fingers, he stared at her with a questioning look he only hoped she'd catch. Though no words had left her, she did not know what to say. He was not supposed to find out like this.

"I have Hanahaki disease, Yunho." she breathed out, her coarse voice prescient. An spectral silence befell amongst the couple, what else was there to say? The situation spoke for itself. "I just want to know, at what point in our lives did you stop loving me?"

“I didn’t know that I had fallen out of in love with you, because I still feel comfort when you’re there." He spoke slowly, a desperate attempt at piecing together the right words as he tried to come to terms with the fact he was the one who had caused her poor condition. "Sometimes I only feel myself entitled to breath when I look at you.” As if that was the cure, a declaration of love-those menial words that had put her in this position in the first place.

“Then why am I dying? Why is this disease tearing me apart? You’re killing me, Yunho.”

“Don’t say that.” He shook his head profusely, tears brimming at the front of his perfect eyes. "Don't say that, please." Her husband begged, pressing his palm to his lips to prevent the grievous dissonance of his sobbing.

“What else would you like me to say? That I am the disloyal one? And I am in love with another who cannot love me back? Be fucking realistic, I have been in love with you a lot longer than you have been in love with me.” Her body trembled with the cold, her own tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't try to hold back the distressing sound as he had. Leaning her head back on the headboard. "What about me disgusted you? What about me made me so unworthy of your love?"

"I wanted a child." Grabbing the pillow, she plundered it against his head as hard as she could. Lunging at him, the collar of his shirt balled up into fists, his slender body oscillating back and forth as she screamed out her soul.

"It's not my fault I cannot conceive! If you had known that before marriage would you have never married me? Would you have never loved me? Is that all a woman means to you? A machine to give birth, or an object to satisfy your desires?" Letting go off his shirt, she subsided into the silk pillows bawling to her heart's content. "Leave Yunho." His breath hitched in his throat. Soundlessly, he got up from the bed trudging towards the doorway, glistening pearls dropping from his porcelain face. He stopped, turning around with a pleading look.

"Leave and if you come back to me- tell me it is because you love me. So much so that it is the ailment to this disease.”

When you did not come back to tell me you loved me, it almost certified the fact that you really had fallen out of in love with me. Perhaps it is better to die than to live a life of solitude, for every day I live I can feel my heart rupturing at the mere sight of you. I wish you find someone to love as much as I love you.

So, one last time before the Angel of Death takes my breath away and draws my soul out of my body: I love you, Jeong Yunho. I love you so much that I have died in your name. I love you so much that if I was given a choice to relive this life again, I would. No matter the pain, no matter the heartache, I would live this life again. All for you.

Sincerely, Yours.

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

A/N: i feel like yunho + unrequited love is such a fitting trope for him? Yunho doing the salsa literally came from me and @n0v4t33z talking about how his hips don't lie. ALSO AS A BRIT BUNS ARE CUPCAKES!! when i first heard about 'bun in the oven' i didn't know it was a teacake (burger bun), but i made it one for this fic.

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

#ateez #kpop #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #jeong yunho #yunho #yunho x reader #ateez yunho #yunho x you #ateez imagines #hanahaki #unrequited love #yunho ateez #hanahaki disease

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imagine-knowing-a-name · 9 months ago

Text

i miss who i used to be

Summary: In the aftermath of Ultron, two Sokovians find themselves contemplating their pasts and their loneliness in the present. When their paths cross again, they might just find comfort in one another's company.

Word Count: 1379 Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader Warnings: grief/loneliness/a lot of reflection on topics of that nature A/N: First part of a short series of sorts? Childhood friends to lovers kinda vibe which maybe could have been a one shot but I wanted to try something different! I have the next part written but after that, let me know what you'd like to see happen between Wanda and R (any interactions/conversations to be had/etc.) and it might influence where this story goes 👀

Part 1 of 'half of my hometown' series masterlist next part ->

»»————-　★　————-««

If there’s one thing she knows, it’s grief.

Wanda Maximoff was born and raised in a war-torn country; she’s borne witness to a lifetime of destruction, endured suffering, and experienced the slow death of dreams. It seemed like there could be no worse feeling since she’d already experienced it all, but life seemed determined to prove her wrong.

After all that, it took her brother.

If her life were to be likened to the myth of Pandora’s Box, then Pietro Maximoff would have been her hope – the one bright light in her life that she believed could never fade, that would never leave her. From the second she was born, and for 26 years thereafter, Pietro had always been by her side; no matter what happened, they went through it together, reacted together, and emerged alive on the other side together. For all their disagreements, Wanda couldn’t think of a single experience she hadn’t shared with Pietro. Which makes this new feeling – the painful, unenviable knot of loneliness in her heart – all the more terrifying.

Pietro will never share it.

Months continue to pass, with Wanda taking notice of nothing but herself becoming more withdrawn, avoiding Stark's parties and spending more time in her room, where she can let the loneliness consume her. She really did try when the Avengers first brought her to America, but Pietro had always been the social twin, and the conversations only made his absence more pronounced.

Wanda's mood worsens as her loneliness grows, but only she can see the change in herself. The team hardly noticed the difference -- they hadn't even known her before her grief, so how could they see what it had caused in her?

Lingering on the thought, Wanda realises there is no one left who remembers the girl she used to be before the pain and grief and suffering. She used to believe that her childhood friendships would last forever, but those friends are likely gone, she thinks, lost to the rubble just as her family were. Wanda Maximoff is the last person alive who could ever remember her true personality, but now, even she isn’t so sure.

»»————-　★　————-««

On that same night, in that same building, you suffer from the same line of thought. Brought from Sokovia to America in your early teens, joining SHIELD was your way of doing good in a world you knew firsthand needed help. You hadn’t expected it to be your own teammates and colleagues who had been causing the troubles in the first place; some went under with HYDRA’s exposition, but many remained, passing test after test because, despite the presence of their names on documents approving the bombing of your birth city, they truly had no allegiance to HYDRA. They are SHIELD agents throughout, but that doesn’t make them ‘good’.

Your sense of hope is naive, really. It’s a remnant of the lingering childhood sentiment that you would make the most of your escape to America, to make real change and bring peace to the friends you left behind. By now, you’ve seen the worst of SHIELD, endured mockery for your opinions, watched the organisation fall and then rise again only somewhat cleansed to assist the Avengers, yet you still work for them. Perhaps it’s fear that keeps you here, perhaps it’s delusion, but either way, you find your workarounds and do your best to progress.

That’s the situation that leads you to now, patrolling the halls of the Avengers Compound at 2am, pondering what you are even working for now that the only evidence left of your country’s capital city is a crater full of rubble.

Loneliness takes centre stage when you work night shifts – an unfortunate coincidence considering loneliness is what caused you to take the time slot in the first place. You don’t want to work with your colleagues, always feeling like you’re on the sidelines of the group, never quite as close to them as they are to each other – now exacerbated by the seed of doubt that any one of them may have seen your country as a necessary sacrifice, an inevitable fatality in a world of war.

It’s easier to work alone, you tell yourself again, but you begin to doubt it.

With no country to return to, no relatives, and no friends at work, you wonder how else you can change yourself before you finally fit in. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to be alone.

»»————-　★　————-««

Those thoughts are interrupted by whirring machinery, and you suddenly snap to attention and creep towards the Avengers’ gym. An intruder wouldn’t settle down for a quick training session, you imagine, and lower your guard marginally, but still ready yourself for a confrontation – there shouldn’t be anyone around at 2 am.

You walk in, only to stall immediately when you see a familiar brunette on the treadmill. She’s not one of the Avengers you’ve met before, nor one of the ones you’ve only seen on TV despite living in the same building – she’s new then, you conclude, or an intruder, but that doesn’t explain why you feel like you’ve seen her face before.

She looks up and her eyes widen when she sees you, before she shuts the treadmill off and quickly ducks her head. You don’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters while she hurriedly gathers her things, “I didn’t think anyone would come in here.”

You know why you recognise her now, the accent giving it all away.

“You’re Sokovian.” The woman clearly wants to leave; her belongings are bundled in her arm and she’s taken several quick paces aiming to pass you to get to the door, but she pauses at your statement and finally raises her head to meet your gaze.

“You’re not.”

“I am,” you reply, somewhat indignantly.

“You don’t sound it.”

Your natural accent had slipped over the years, it was true, a mix of natural evolution and forced acclimatisation on your behalf as an attempt to better fit in had led to the accent you now had. Not good enough to fool your American-born colleagues, but enough, it seems, to fool your fellow Sokovian. You think carefully, the new accent is so well practised that you struggle to separate what comes naturally and which parts you condition yourself to speak with. Eventually though, you speak and let the traces of your Sokovian past shine through.

“It’s been a while,” you tell her, “13 years since I last saw Novi Grad. I thought I’d return one day but… I guess not.”

Her eyes narrow as she tilts her head ever so slightly, the action once again striking you with a sense of familiarity. She seems to shake herself out of it eventually. She tightens her grip on her belongings and finally inches past you, not speaking again until her hand is on the door handle.

“I suppose neither of us can ever return home… your accent is rusty, Y/N, but it’s nice to see someone else survived.”

You jolt suddenly at her use of your name, but she’s gone before you can even turn around and acknowledge that she recognises you too; all that remains of her is the door slamming shut in her wake.

Memories crash back to you of the first half of your life, it's enough that you need to take a seat before allowing yourself to reminisce. It's been thirteen years since you last saw Wanda, but you'd never forgotten the shy brunette you used to run to and from school with; the girl whose apartment you would visit whenever the power went out, to huddle together and make up stories to entertain yourselves.

You wonder briefly why she left the gym so suddenly, rather than staying and catching up, but you realise that even you need a moment to process the fact that one of your friends, a memory from your past, is not only still alive, but also living in the same building as you. It seems likely that you'll see her again, and you hope it's something that she wants too.

You're already planning to give her time, but no matter how the night started, the encounter plants a seed of hope in you that the future might just be a little less lonely.

next part ->

»»————-　★　————-««

General Taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

(Might do a series taglist for this too - let me know if you'd like to be added! @family-house-of-m you have no choice but to be tagged)

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #mcu #marvel #ikan writes #wanda maximoff & reader #ikan homh

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misguidedasgardian · 1 year ago

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Blurred Lines (4)

4. Positions

MASTERLIST

Summary: You are placed in an… awkward position

Warnings: Cursing, cheating, adultery, Harwin is not a good person on this… and Jace isn’t either, a bit creepiness, alcohol consumption, inappropriate relationship, sexual innuendos, a bit choking, smut, fingering, a bit of humilliation, might miss some warnings

MINORS DNI, + 18

Wordcount: 3.2 k

Notes: Thank you anon who gave me this amazing idea!! love you, and I hope this did justice to what you had in mind! this might open the door to other stories in this AU

It’s been a chaotic week to say the least. Harwin had been staying home, but thanks to Jace, he didn’t have much to do around the house, it’s been like three days since Jace left and even though you appreciated that, to think… he had always make himself present

Harwin was trying… hard…

First to speak to you, but luckily, having a toddler required a lot of work so she was a good buffer, so when he could tell you were not going to hear him out, he started staring at you when you were in the same room… when he walked by you he would graze you, when he wanted something that was near you he made sure to touch you to move you out of the way gently…

And it was driving you mad

You didn’t want him near you…

Not only because it disgusted you, the fact that he fucked someone else, the fact that you saw him when that bitch send you videos and pictures and the nasty conversation between them, buT also… you were disgusted in yourself

You had fucked his son…

And the worst part is that at night when you were tossing and turning, you weren’t feeling guilty, you were feeling annoyed that Harwin was the “Strong” in the house and not Jacaerys

And that made you disgusted in yourself

Lucky for you, Harwin, in a way to consolidate with you, called your name softly as you were having breakfast on opposite sides of the dinner table, telling you he had an interview out of the city in the Headquarters for another company

And then you could breathe, and count the seconds left until he leaves

Will you call Jacaerys?

No, impossible

Were you wishing he had that incredible timing of his again?

Maybe

You shook your head, trying to eliminate those thoughts from your head

The furthest Jace stayed from you the better…

Specially now

But soon, Harwin’s week of having his kids came around again, and of course, Jace was coming, he wouldn’t miss it for the world

You tried to act as natural as possible, again, your daughter helped as a shield

Seeing him there, as nothing had happened, made you question your own reality, you felt yourself embarrassingly wet between your thighs as soon as you saw him, dirty memories of what you had done together came rushing back and you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t want it to happen again…

Now you had two men with longing looks in their eyes and hoping to get you alone for a second, and you wouldn’t give in, you couldn’t

Luckily, Luke and Joffrey were there too, those sweet boys were helping you too, they seemed to be happy to be back and see you, you loved them… perhaps, no as your children, but as your youngest siblings

So the third day, when Harwin was out for a work interview, Jace approached you while you were preparing lunch, you jumped on your feet as Luke was right in the living room playing in his nintendo witch with headphones on

“Relax”, he laughed

“It’s not funny Jace”, you whispered as he mocked your reaction

“I wanted to ask you something”, he whispered, his stance was relaxed, not second intended, or you didn’t think so

“Tell me”, you said

“I wanted to invite you to my birthday party, the one that my grandfather Viserys is throwing me”, he said softly. You looked at him, looking for something that tells you he was kidding, or he had a hidden intention, but those beautiful, dark green eyes told you nothing

“Jace I think it’s out of place”, you said finally

“Look, no funny business, it is a family thing, I want Aerea there, and Harwin can’t take her because he's going to that interview out of the city…”

“I’m not sure if its a good idea”

“It is my birthday, And I want you and Aerea there, I would only take her, but because it’s a weekend we won’t have nannies and I…”

“You are the birthday boy”, you said, “you shouldn’t be taking care of a toddler”

“Please go”, he said softly

“It’s going to be awkward”, you whispered

“No it won’t”

“But I’m not blood related to anyone there…”

“Well Aerea is”, he suggested

“That only makes me remember what I’ve done”, you whispered

“The only thing you have done is let yourself be loved by me”, he whispered, leaning in, but you took a step back, looking at Luke who couldn’t even be bothered

“I’ll go, if you promise me… please, nothing out of line”, you begged softly

“I promise”, he whispered

He wasn’t an idiot… he was testing the waters with his family and even though he needed to show you to them in a more… intimate… way, he had to keep his hands to himself… at least in front of everyone

He had won this small victory

The weekend came around

He was turning twenty two but that is not what most excited him

It was you

He had come early to his grandfather’s house, where he was going to spend the weekend, and so were you and the rest of his family, including his mother

He was so looking forward to it.

His grandfather’s house was the Targaryen family home, and he wouldn’t be lying if he said it was a castle, a huge castle in the middle of a national park

He heard a car pulling up so he sneaked a glance through the window, and there you were, struggling to get Aerea out of the car, with a bag hanging from your shoulder and your adorable toddler in the other

You were going to struggle even more when you are fat with his child, Jace thought with a silly smile

Of course the house was in the outskirts, so the invitation also included a room in the mansion for the weekend

Oh Gods he was going to enjoy it

You were nervous, as Area looked around moving tirelessly in your arms, there was so much to see though

This was like a medieval castle, incredible that had passed through generations and generations of Targaryens

You received a warm welcome from the family, even from Rhaenyra

“Who is this gorgeous little girl?”, she cooed at Aerea and even threw her arms at her, you felt embarrassed but she immediately received her in her arms. “She is gorgeous!”, she praised at you, “Like the daughter I never had”, she said with a sad smile

“Thank you for inviting me Rhaenyra, Jace wanted his baby sister here”, you said softly

“Please, say no more, you are family”, she said again regaining her smile, as Aerea played with her earring softly, “anything you need, ever, I mean it, you only have to ask”, she said and smiled at you, you smiled back

She and Harwin ended amicably, she was the one to end things and he accepted it with a bit of reluctance. They split everything they had, shared custody 50/50, everything was great, very evolved.

You came back to the present when Jace himself met you with open arms and those eyes that seemed to want to eat you alive, you almost cringed away…

“There you are!, I’m so happy you are here”, he said it playfully, looking at Aerea who instantly throw her arms at Jace

“Daddy!”, she called and your mouth opened in an o, you looked at Rhaenyra, who chuckled, smiling warmly

“They are so close”, you said apologetically

“Jace had been telling me what has happened lately”, you wanted the earth to swallow you, “and how he likes to be there helping you out around the house”, she almost whispered at you, only you two could hear, “its perfectly fine that Aerea looks at him like a father figure, children are… simpler than we are”, she said with a warm smile

Rhaenyra was certainly something else

They had invited you for the weekend, they showed you your rooms, Aerea was set in the nursery, yes, the house had a nursery, with Rhaenyra’s children who shared her age, and you had a room all to yourself

The nannies were taking care of the children, and dinner time, the adult dinner time, was above you sooner than you ever expected.

You felt watched the entire dinner, and not only by Jace, but you found his uncles staring at you, Aemond and Aegon, the first hiding his smirk in his goblet of wine, afterwards licking his lips teasingly, and the other didn’t even mind hiding it

You wondered why

But you felt so judged, did they know? as the wine flowed more freely, you became more paranoid, but it was impossible

If they knew then everyone knew, and your would have not been welcomed here if it was the case, Rhaenyra was a fierce woman she would have stabbed you with that knife her father Viserys was using to carve into a chicken

Luckily Rhaenyra kept you entertained and distracted, along with Daemon, their conversation was light, and seemed like a godsent

Viserys stood up, raising his cup

“I wanted to celebrate my eldest grandson, reaching this magical age of twenty two”, he said raising his cup, “for him, and for his achievements, I know there are going to be more of them”, everyone cheered, raising his cups and Jace smiled at everyone

He raised from his seat then, his own cup in his hands

“Thank you grandfather”, he said solemnly, “this means a lot to me, one thing that I’ve understood the last years, is that family is everything, and I can’t wait to have my own”, he said the last part looking at you, and you tried to hide your ashamed face in your own cup

Daemon chuckled

“You might be getting ahead of yourself”, he warned with amusement

“No when you know what you want”, Rhaenyra seemed proud of his words, and she nodded enthusiastically, you knew she had him when she was nineteen, same as Harwin, she was young herself. “I’m fortunate to have you all here, as you mean so much to me”

The next one to raise from her seat was Rhaenyra herself

“To my oldest son”, she said with her voice on a knot, “can’t believe you are already twenty two!, you are a grown man now… I’m so proud of you”, it was a heartfelt sentiment and you smiled at her, she looked down and smiled at you too

For a second, for a fraction of a second, you thought you were actually here with Jace and not for him, and the realization that you weren’t brought you a dark sentiment you hid in a sip of wine.

Gods…

His were on you, as you made conversation with Rhaenyra and Daemon, even though you were technically still in your twenties, as many of the group, you felt the need to cling to the second generation instead of the third

“I’m sorry, lovely lady, I must have forgotten your name”, Aegon, you thought he was called, demanded your attention and you got nervous all of a sudden, you were about to answer, but someone answered for you

“She is (y/n)”, said Jacaerys, quick to anger

“I’m sorry nephew, I asked her”, teased Aegon. Jacaerys was quickly exasperated, “Her name, and her reason to be here, scapes me”

“I wanted her here”, he said angrily, and now the rest of the family was strangely quiet, Daemon looked at everything with a mocking grin on this face… Viserys tried to eat his chicken, but looked at everything with a strange look on his face… and Rhaenyra and Alicent looked at everything unravel with surprised looks on their faces

“You are so forgetful brother, she is Harwin’s new little wife”, muttered Aemond, in a voice so condescending it made your skin crawl

“Right”, said Aegon, like now he remembered you, “aren’t you closer to our age than his?”

“Aegon, that’s enough”, chided Alicent again

“They say that love is ageless”, muttered Daemon

“They are separated now”, said Jace

“Well, that is better! thank you Jacaerys for bringing such a welcome addition”, kept teasing Aegon

You shouldn’t have come

Aegon was staring at you trough the rest of the dinner with a smirk on his lips, Aemond was more discrete.

You felt like they knew what you and Jace had done just by looking at your guilty face, only one look and they would know how depraved you were, pretending you did nothing, siting here by Jace’s mother.

Aemond stood up then, raising his cup

“Final tribute”, he chanted, “For Jacaerys, you are a man grown now, that knows what he wants and is not afraid to go after it”, he said, looking straight at you

“Thank you uncle”, said Jacaerys, “that was very kind”, he said trough gritted teeth

It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he kept quiet, You looked to your right, and Rhaenyra was looking right back at you, and smiled warmly

“It’s alright”, she said, and you didn’t know why it sounded so strange to you

You looked back at Jace and he just smirked

Gods, you should have never come to this thing, Aerea wouldn’t even remember this, Jacaerys was just playing with you

Did he get off just… putting you in this position? what was he thinking? Did he wanted to humiliate you?

What did he wanted to accomplish?

You didn’t know what to feel or think.

Despite Daemon’s invitation for a late drink with Rhaenyra, you had politely declined, and your daughter was already asleep, and you were so tired and tense, you decided you were going to follow, and went back to your own room to sleep

But as soon as you were comfortable inside the sheets, the door opened slowly, you turned quickly, and even in the darkness, but the only light coming from the hallway, you could tell, it was Jace

“What are you doing?”, you asked, he closed the door behind him and sneaked into the room

“Getting my birthday present”, he teased walking towards the room

“Jace, don’t”, you wanted but he was already taken off his shirt

“Its still my birthday”, he purred, you sat on the bed, the sheets barely hiding your body dressed in your night dress

“Not here”, you begged

“Where else? everyone else is busy or asleep”, he begged, his hands, even in the dark, found your cheeks, “come on”, he leaned in and trapped your lips with his.

“Jace, why did you invited me here?”, you asked him, leaning into him, it was useless to resist him, you wanted him too

“Isn’t it obvious?”, he teased, he sneaked onto the bed with you

“Jace please”

“Its my fucking birthday and you are my present, that’s why you are here”, you only moaned when he put you on your side, he at your back

“Tell me…”

“Shut up”, he growled making you whimper, his hand encased your throat, threatening to squeeze, but he didn’t, “tonight you are my perfect little whore”, he whispered, his other hand sneaking between your thighs, “I want to unwrap my present”

“Jace I think”

“I don’t want you to think…”, and all thoughts went to shit when he fingers teased you open, even though you had closed your thighs, it was a stretch even for his thick fingers, “I want you to take my fingers, then my cock”

“Jace!”, you schreeched when his fingers found that spot inside of you

“Shut up, if you don’t want everyone in this house to know the slut you really are”, he threatened, and that only made you moan, spreading your legs to give him more access, he squeezed your neck softly, in warning

He grabbed your leg and hooked it over his, so now he had you all open for him

You were quickly wet with desire for him, the sounds of your wetness resounding all over the room.

Your climax built quickly…

The very thought of being roughly treated like that turned you on, the fact that you were in such dangerous territoy was even more hot to you in that moment, so you began bucking your hips to meet his fingers.

“Mmmm that’s it”, he could be cruel, he could take your orgasm from you, for trying to deny him, for resisting, but tonight he wasn’t feeling like that, tonight he wanted to make you cum as much times as he could, that is what his real present was.

You came undone on his fingers, drowning your moans and whines on the pillow under you, which Jace really appreciated, this was not how he intended on presenting you as his partner

“Youa re suh a good girl for me”, he whispered in your ear, “tell me, who makes you cum like this?”

“You”, you whined, as he retrieved his hand from you gently

“Say it again”, he demanded

“Only you Jace, you are the only one who makes me cum like this”, you admitted

“That’s it”, he said, pleased, his fingers came back, this time more aggressively, more teasingly, he did not want to deprive you of anything, but what he really wanted to do was to hear you beg for him.

“Jacey”, you whined, again bucking your hips so needily it mad ehim chuckle, squeezing softly your delicate neck

“Yes?”, he asked, giving you an open mouth kiss on the side of your face,

“I need you”

“What you are talking about? I’m right here”, he kept teasing

“I need your cock”, you revealed, and he couldn’t hide his chuckle

“Where?”, he kept teasing he loved hearing your voice, but he liked it even more when you were begging for him

Not like he could last any longer without fucking you, his cock had never been harder on his life

“Inside me”, tonight you were not in the mood for teasing he could see.

“Oh I see, my little slut”, he mocked, he released you, making you cry out and then he, “you need me to fuck you, uh?”, his thumb billied your clit making you whine, trying so hard not to scream his name in ecstasy.

“Yes I do”, you admitted shameslely

“Oh I will give it to you then”, he teased, releasing you, grabbing his cock, and thent easing your entrance, “Mmmm but just the tip?”, you tried to sink yourself onto him, but he had fisted his cock making it impossible, only his fat tip teasing you

“No”, you whined

“No what?”

“All of it”, you begged, wiggling your ass, “please I want all of it”

“You needy little girl”, he moaned in your ear, and from one second to the next he impaled you on his fat cock, covering your mouth so nobody could hear you

Jace never knew nothing better that being inside you

“This cock is yours”, he promised against the skin of your cheek, “I’m goona fuck you so good you know nothing but my name, and I’m going to cum inside you, fucking breed you”

“Mmm?”, you were so deep in your pleasure his words barely made sense, they just made you wetter

“Fuck yes”, he retrieved himself, only to thrust inside you again, rougher, deeper, “I’m going to breed you, get you pregnant with my child”

“Jace?”, that did sink in, but late, as he growled cumming deep inside of you.

But you payed no attention to it, it was surely a thing of the heat of the moment, nothing else, many had a breeding kink, you amongst them

“In my grandparent’s home”, he whispered, “dirty little whore”, he growled

“Happy birthday Jace”, you said only, the spell fading, as he chuckled in your neck

Oh if only you knew… they you were being watched

Reader thinks Jace only wants her to fuck :(

Taglist: @champomiel @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @lukepattersin @ladylyanna91 @snowflake-latte @bruher @bellstwd @inesven @iamavailablesstuff @haydee5010 @happinessinthebeing @agqrtz @ajanauia @joliettes @lightdragonrayne @ivoryluvs @fairysluna @cumslutforaemond @possiblyafangirl

#misguidedblurred #prince jacaerys #jacaerys x oc #jacaerys strong #jacaerys #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 7 months ago

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👑ATTENTION👑AEGON X AFAB READER OC (NON-WESTEROSI OC) MODERN & COLLEGE SETTING

Aegon x Reader

Tags: Fluffish, royalty, modernroyalty, theprinceandme

🔷Summary: You are studying in college and you fall for a mysterious boy named Aeg. Who hides a dark secret.

🔷Author's note: Based on the movie, the Prince and Me.

🔷Wordcount :3547

🔷Warnings: It is not a very dark or triggering fic. If you found something that upsets you, however let me know ill change the warnings

It is cold. It is so fucking cold. You keep repeating that in your head, as you cling your books to your chest, shielding them from the rain as you run over campus. Earlier today, your backpack committed the worst betrayal in history since centuries, and one of the straps ripped. So now you carry your books around. It is also a bit misty, darkish and overall not a fun time to be outside.

You make out the sign of the building where your archeology class is taking place. You finally found it. Last year, they hosted it in the other building, much closer to your dorm. But for some reason, it now is in the new science building. You don’t know why, and you don’t have time to care. You cross the streets.

Perhaps without looking. Perhaps you look too late. Either way, a black, sleek, luxurious car with a dragon logo on the hood nearly hits you. You huff at the audacity of this asshole to drive that fast on college ground, and try to look in the car. The windows are blinded. You can’t see who is in it. They can see you however. You raise your middle finger, before you head off to class. You don’t notice the window rolling down and someone looking at you, with piercing bright blue eyes and a smirk on his lips.

–

The teacher forgave you for being late. You are a good student, and never would be late on purpose. She listened to your apologies and you explained to her the bag situation, which she understood, but also could laugh at. ‘’Why, you always have the worst of luck, don’t you?’’ she joked. Now you are reading your books, making assignments and studying an ancient old stone.

The incident with the car has long left your mind. Your books are more interesting. Until the door of the classroom is opened and a handsome young man enters. You see him look at papers in his hand, which is likely his route and his schedule of where his classes are. He introduces himself as Aeg and to your horror he sits down right next to you, on the only free spot in class. He smells nice, like rain and aftershave. ‘’I’m Aeg.’’ He says, addressing you for the first time in your life. ‘’I’m uh, new.’’ His accent betrayed that he is from Westeros and from the Crownlands, like most students. You take one glance at him and see him looking back, your eyes meeting and your breath briefly stopped. He is gorgeous. Damn him.

‘’I can see that.’’ You reply, uninterested. You don’t need distractions. And Aeg, whoever he may be, is a distraction. You bend your head a bit further over your books, hoping to lose yourself in the magic of the Ancient Dornish statues you are studying. It does not happen, and to make things worse, Aeg is staring at you, full of interest and delight, a smirk on his lips as he studies you instead of the textbook.

‘’Don’t be like that. The teacher said I could sit with you. You are a nice girl. It’s literally what she said. I can use a friend. I’m new. I only have Cole with me.’’ He says. You sigh, and deep down you know you will regret this deeply. You know it.

‘’I am Ereys.’’ You say, ignoring the way his blue eyes keep piercing through your skin and skull. ‘’I study Archaeology. That’s what you should be doing, by the way.’’ You say. Aeg snorts, laughing loudly and draws more attention to your shared table. Embarrassed, you lower yourself a bit more, hoping to bury yourself in your books.

‘’I’m Aegon, but you can call me Aeg.’’ He says. ‘’I never studied Archaeology or history before. Perhaps you can tell me where we are with the studies, as well as tell me…’’ He smirks, looking at you a bit funnily. You raise a brow, confused.

‘’Do you have a boyfriend?’’ You don’t know where this question came from or how it is related to archelogy but you sure as hell don’t want to answer that weasel anymore.

You blow up. ‘’That’s none of your business. Go ask someone else.’’ To your horror, your voice is uncontrolled and even more eyes are glued on you and Aegon now.

He does not seem to even be slightly insulted, grinning at your rejection. ‘’Ah, come on, darling. Didn’t mean to insult you. Just a complement, sweetheart.’’ He says. His voice becomes a bit more serious and he sits up, instead of hanging in the chair. ‘’But if I truly insulted you, I apologize.’’

‘’Hmph.’’

The rest of the class you are both silent, save for Aegon who keeps smirking and smiling at you, clearly trying to get you to let your walls down. You won’t let it happen.

At long last, classes end and you are released.

—--

That evening, it is your turn at the Red Dragon the local college bar to handle the crowd. Lots of students come to unwind, have a drink, a snack, and a flirt before their classes are back on in the morning. It earns decently, and your boss makes sure that everyone behaves or is kicked out of the bar.

Two of your close friends, Jayne and Alysanna hang out near the bar, trying to get more details out of your summer. ‘’Come on! Tell me, did you at least hook up last summer?’’ Jayne asks, on her fourth martini of that night. Alysanna smacks her arm, berating her instantly, the mom friend of the group.

Bless her. ‘’Ereys is just busy. She can have any guy she wants to have. She chooses to focus on her studies.’’ Alys says, grinning. ‘’Like if she wanted, any guy would be on their knees.’’ You roll your eyes.

‘’Hear hear.’’ You comment, giving two waiting jocks with red dragon tunics both a beer and a sandwich you just made for them. They leave, and you watch them go to their friends at the table in the corner, likely returning to their games for that evening.

Jayne is not ready to let the conversation die. ‘’I mean, I saw what joined you at Archaeology class and I have to say; You have more willpower and restraint than me.’’ You frown at her words. Aeg is not a what, and how the hell did she know? She studies marine biology, which is 2 floors above you. No way she could have seen Aeg. No way unless…..

‘’Stop using that fucking app!’’ Alys grabs the phone from Jayne. ‘’It’s fucking dehumantising.’’ She has a point. Women, men, non binary, something or someone else: It does not matter, this app does not discriminate, if you’re hot, you get called a lot of things.

Jayne, however is…Jayne.‘’Nah-ah! How else am I supposed to know what hot guy is new on campus? Have you seen how massive this place is? I need the app!” You know that app. It’s created by some tech devs with a god complex and it basically tracks relation drama, hot new guys, anything you don’t want to get caught up in on campus.

You watch as Jayne takes of running in her heels, chased by Alys on her sneakers, and you are shocked to see how fast both are. Someone clears his throat and you are reminded you have a job.

‘’Two beer.’’ Oh no. You know that voice.

In front of you, is Aeg. He is wearing a dorky shirt which looks like someone with a high office job would wear. His hair is pushed back neatly and you assume he spent a few hours on it. And he smells nice. Again. Aeg seems to recognize you too, grinning and sitting down while you grab the beer from the fridge. ‘’You look damn good behind a bar.’’ He says. ‘’You seem at home here. Everywhere, really.’’

You place it in front of Aeg. ‘’That’ll be 8 coins.’’ You say. Aeg happily grins, giving you 10 coins instead of 8. He looks around him, before closing in, leaning on the bar with a drunken smirk and you know you are done for. ‘’Hey, uhm. I want to see your boobs.’’ You can’t have heard that one right.

‘’’Excuse you?’’ He is drunk but that is no excuse.

‘’It’ll be just for me.’’ He promises, in a bar, filled with people, cameras, phones, everyone. You back away, disgusted and grab the hose that is used to fill beer cups. Instead of giving him a piece of your mind, you decide that it's time for action. You press the spray button and spray Aeg in rich, brown beer, soaking his shirt. A man with dark black hair and a Dornish look jumps from his chair as if you offended him and rushes to Aeg, who is confused.

Your boss, Laenor interferes, addressing the man instead of Aeg. ‘’You. Take your friend out of my fucking bar. I heard what he said to my employee. We don’t want that kind of shit here, or anywhere. OK?’’

The man nods, and drags Aegon off away from you, and the bar.

—

When you wake up, you have forgotten the incident with Aeg and the strange man. It is Saturday. You have no classes and you are relaxing, in bed, still snoozing peacefully….

Until someone is knocking at your door. You throw your bathrobe on, close it and open your door. You are surprised to see who’s there. He smiles at you. You try to slam the door in his face, but he sets one foot in the door. ‘’Please, let me explain.’’ He begs. ‘’I was a fucking asshole.’’

Ding ding ding! ‘’Yes. You were.’’ You try to kick him out once more. Aeg begins pouting, and you allow him in your dorm, knowing he won’t give up anyway.

‘’I am sorry, Ereys. I got drunk real bad. I never would have said that if I was sober. But that is no excuse.’’ He looks at his shoes first, but halfway through his apology he looks at your face. ‘’Also my driver almost hit you, on the way to class.’’

You find that a bit odd. Does he have a driver? ‘’You have a driver?’’

Aeg pales. ‘’Eh, my friend, Cole. He studies here too. He dropped me off. He almost hit you though.’’ You think back of the fancy car and you know something is not adding up. Yet you accept Aegon’s apology of him and his…driver.

‘’Apology accepted.’’ You say. ‘’For one reason.’’ You add with a smirk.

He looks a bit like a puppy that got hurt and you feel bad about making him do this. But someone has to do it. And it won’t be you for sure. ‘’Anything.’’ He begs, looking in your eyes with such sadness that can only be seen in Disney movies.

You cackle. ‘’Oh, I love it when souls say such things. Give me a moment.’’

‘’Souls?’’ Aegon mutters, as you push him out of the room so you can get dressed.

—

‘’Dragon drinks! Dragon drinks! It helps the pain and it helps you think! Dragon drinks!’’ A few moments later, you are sitting beneath a umbrella outside the Red Dragon, while Aegon is in costume, the red cursed dragon costume, advertising.

While Aegon does your job, and he does it really well, you enjoy the water and study some books. Aegon sometimes tries to get close to you, but one glare and he knows he is pushing it. But then Aegon sees a passing crowd of students, and instead of bothering you, he tries to lure them to the bar. ‘’Roar!’’ You clutch at your heart, scared to death by his roar. ‘’You there! You all seem cool! Come here, drink, and forget school!’’ You see one girl take her phone out. Aegon beams, proud he did his job well.

Until she snaps a photo and walks away, laughing with her friends. You see Aegon’s confidence had a big hit and you feel a bit sad for the dragon. ‘’Don’t let it bother you. Just keep being you. You’re actually really good at this.’’ He isn’t.

But Aegon beams. ‘’Yeah? Oh, I don’t I have ever been…’’ He roars again, puffing his chest, and this time a few customers pass in front of the bar. Aegon roars again, dancing. You can see that he is from Westeros, indeed.

You beg the people with their eyes to please get a drink, and they do. Aegon cheers victorious as they walk in. ‘’This is actually really nice, Ereys. I don’t think I ever have done something this silly.’’ He confesses, smiling. ‘’Thank you for the opportunity.’’

You wave his praise away. ‘’Yeah, yeah.’’ He ignores you, focusing on a new group to lure in.

When you attend the bar later, there is a shocking surprise. You had just done your hair on a bun and put your best foot in front of the other, and mentally prepared yourself. But someone else is at the bar, wearing a black shirt, with jeans, and a namepin. He is leaning on the bar, smiling as girls crowd around him, ordering drinks just to get a talk with him. Aegon.

You march over to the girls. ‘’Hello. Aegon. This bar is for employees. You are a customer.’’ He grins, smirking at you, and checking you out at the same time.

‘’I got a job.’’ He reveals. ‘’Say hello to your new coworker.’’ He winks. You should be happy, as you have come to like Aegon. But your heart cannot allow him too close.

You can’t work with his eyes on you. You look for Laenor and walk to him. ‘’Uhm, you gave Aegon a job?’’ You have no idea how to bring it gently, so you don’t.

Laenor laughs, nodding. ‘’Yeah, he was good in the dragon costume. He has passion and spirit, charisma and good looks. All things you need when running a bar.’’ A few girls giggle in the background and you are annoyed that you thought Aegon actually liked you.

You don’t see that his eyes are glued on you, watching your every move, not even hearing the girls.

Laenor is not going to fire him. No way. So you can either quit and say goodbye to your sweet cash or try to endure Aegon. You walk back to the bar and you notice that Aegon has been waiting for you. ‘’Girls. What shall it be?’’ You ask, preparing yourself for the drinks.

One girl with sunglasses inside huffs. ‘’We were in a conversation with Eggy.’’ She says, a bit whiny. ‘’Don’t you have a table to clean somewhere?’’ She asks, and her friends laugh.

You are ready to insult her back but Aegon beats you to it. ‘’Hey, that’s not cool. Ereys is right. This is a bar, not a zoo. You get drinks and pay or leave.’’ You are impressed at his maturity.

‘’Thanks.’’ You mutter after they have left. You reach for an empty glass at the same time as Aegon and your fingers brush.

He blushes. ‘’Anytime.’’

—-

As months pass and you and Aegon only grow closer and closer. You are unaware you are in love with him, but he knows he is love with you. You are busy cleaning tables and he cleans the glasses that were used during the shift. While he is busy, you ask him questions that he needs to know for his upcoming test.

‘’So, Nymeria’s statues. The big ones. What year?’’ You ask, as you clean some chewing gum from a table and nearly vomit.

But Aegon has improved. A lot. ‘’39 AC.’’ He grins. ‘’Easy peasy. Now for you: What did the writer Dynmeris meant with the sentence ‘’The sun cannot find the skies if the clouds are there?’’ You will so, so, so fail that literature class. Who cares? What sun? What clouds? Huh?

Gods help you.

‘’Uhm, it’s cloudy?’’ You guess.

Aegon nods, and you know you have answered wrong but he is too kind to say it. Defeated, you sit down on a chair, grumpy. He joins you, planting his ass on the table you just cleaned. Thank god for jeans. ‘’It can be a metaphor. For many things. For how you don’t know if you don’t try, for how you cannot achieve dreams without effort, and how you, I suppose, cannot find love if your heart isn't open for it.’’ He looks at you expectedly You nod. ‘’You see, the clouds are the obstacle, and the sky is the goal. But what is the sun? What does it represent?’’ You listen a bit longer to his explanation, and you suddenly feel a bit stuck. Maybe you are the clouds. And Aegon the sun. And you keep yourself from happiness. You have become happier and less snappy around Aegon and everyone seems to know it except you.

You love him.

‘’Aeg?’’ You whisper, your face heated so hot that it might explode. You see him nod.

‘’Yeah?’’ he asks, just as tense and smiling, despite being terrified you can tell.

‘’I uh, want you to kiss me.’’ You confess.

Aeg closes the distance between the two of you and gently caresses your face, as your lips finally lock in a soft gentle kiss. You never felt more alive, and kiss him back, touching his face and feeling his soft hair. He breaks the kiss, smiling deeply. ‘’Does this mean we’re a thing?’’

Wow, he moves fast.

‘’Uhm, it means I like you a bit more.’’ You say, keeping it casual. Aegon grins, still sitting on the table.

‘’I suppose I’ll just have to step up my game.’’

You would love to see what that looks like.

—--

Months later.

Finals are here and you and Aegon are in the library. You are officially dating and have become girlfriend and boyfriend. You try to focus on your books, but your eyes keep going to Aegon, who keeps smirking at you from his book, clearly not reading a word. His hands move down your thigh, and his smirk becomes suggestive. You feel your desire grow as he leans in a bit closer and kisses your neck. You mutter something. You close your book and drag Aegon from his chair, dragging him up to the second floor of the library, where almost no one comes. Aegon catches on, smiling, deeply in love and caresses your face. ‘’I love you Ereys.’’ He mutters, and you don’t know if he says that because you are about to hook up or because he loves you. Yet you turn your mind and insecurities off, and take your shirt off. Aegon follows, kissing your lips and taking his belt off. You both are lost in the passion.

Until, a camera flash interrupts it all. You let out a shriek and Aegon acts in a split second. He pulls his shirt over your head, covering you as quickly as possible. Two cameramen have appeared. ‘’Prince Aegon! Is this what you are doing on college grounds? The people demand to know!’’ One of them shouts. You feel ill. It makes sense.

Stupid too.

Aegon does not allow you to remain there, frozen and hurt. He drags you with him, as you both run away, between large bookshelves as the obvious paparazzi chases you. ‘’Prince Aegon, over here! Who is this lady? Prince Aegon!’’ Aegon doesn’t answer them. Getting you to safety is his priority.

When you are both safe outside, it has started raining. ‘’What the fuck was that?’’ You ask, in tears. Aegon sighs.

‘’I’m a Prince.’’ He says, and you never heard someone so upset that he is filthy rich. Cole. Cole is not his friend. He’s his bodyguard. Oh, oh you’re fucked.

A prince. You laugh. You never mattered to him. If you did he would've been honest. ‘’A what?’’

‘’A prince. Of House Targaryen.’’ This is madness.

You shake your head, in disbelief. He reaches out to touch you, to feel your love, your warmth. ‘’Ereys-’’

‘’Get away from me! You lied to me!’’ You yell, as tears fall down your cheeks. Hurt, Aegon backs off. He lied to you. And now your chest will likely cover some Westerosi magazine somewhere. You will be mocked, ridiculed by gods, knows how many people? And your trust, the walls he brought down, they’re skyhigh, and you know you won’t ever let anyone else get a shot.

He sighs, staring at his shoes. ‘’I never meant for them to find me here. I really like you. More than I liked anyone.’’ He says as he too sniffles, crying. ‘’I never wanted that stupid crown. They keep following me, I had hoped for a fun experience, but I never expected to find you. I love you and I mean it.’’

You shake your head. ‘’I was right not to trust you. I was right.’’ You repeat as you try to keep from crying, as your heart bleeds. It bleeds out from your chest. You take off running to your dorms and don’t look back.

a/n

i might make a part two if you guys dig it.

I got a busy mind and a lot on my hands So get out of my way And out of my hair Cause I'm going somewhere And I'm not in the mood for questions

And no I don't wanna talk I don't wanna get in too deep On whatever you think I am or do And I'm not in the mood for questions And if I was, I wouldn't let you in on the answers

Don't wanna lose my head I stand up straight I take a real deep breath I never asked for attention But now that I have your attention I will play my part I'll put on a face And with all my heart I never asked for attention But now that I have your attention I'll give you the best I can-

Attention Lyrcis what inspired the fic xD

#hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #Aegon II targaryen #aegon #modern aegon ii #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii smut #aegon ii fic #aegon ii fanfiction #hotd x oc #aegon ii x oc

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thegreengnome · 1 year ago

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Could I request aunt!Rhaenyra x niece!reader where they’ve always shared a strong bond, and one day during a tourney or feast Nyra gets possessive/protective when *her* reader is flirted with by some lord while reader is confused but basks in her Muña’s affections anyway?

Y/N detested tourneys. The overzealous crowd that cheered and booed at every little thing. The uneasy but pleasing bloodshed that made her wish the dress she had picked for the occasion was not so light in colour. But the worst thing about these so-called events was the heat.

It was certainly not a pleasant heat; it was sticky and sweltering and it made the whole thing unbelievably unbearable. Unfortunately, due to her royal status Y.N had to endure. Those should be her house words.

Y/N was sure that this was why the ladies’ fan was created. Said fan was waving at her face in a steady pace but it was simply not doing the trick. Perhaps one of the ogling lords could fan her, mayhap even two of them. At least they would be doing something useful instead of ‘discreetly’ placing bets on rivel houses.

“Are you feeling alright dearest?” Stopping her fan as elegantly as possible, Y/N brings her attention to her aunt.

Rhaenyra Targaryen truly was the realms delight, the hair surrounding her head made her seem otherworldly and her eyes glowed as she glanced at her niece. Rhaenyra was the one family member Y/N could confidently say she loves although her younger cousins could sometimes be entertaining.

“Yes, I am fine. the heat is getting to me today is all”

The look of worry makes Y/N’s heart clench. Its not a look one should see on the face of the heir to the throne. It made the girl want to reach out and take her aunt into her arms. Instead, she reaches for her hand. Y/N clasps it between her own moving her thumb over the back of it.

“Do not worry about me aunty”

Rhaenyra chuckles “I cannot help it” Rhaenyra brushes a wisp of hair from Y/N’s brow. Y/N cannot decipher the look that passes over her aunts face as she sweeps the hair but only a second later that look is forgotten by the neigh of an approaching horse.

The hand holding her own tightens painfully as the knight speaks out to the royal box.

“It would be a great honour if the princess Y/N bestowed her Favor onto me” ignoring the amused chuckles around her the young royal removes her hand from the ever-growing grip and grabs the Favor she had spent the previous night crafting with her younger cousins.

Y/N looks back at her aunt and pauses. Her once angelic face looks unusually angry. Her lips pursed, her brows furrowed and her eyes facing forward. Not acknowledging the girl next to her.

Y/N knew what her duty was. To please the lords and ladies of the realm so she makes sure a smile graces her lips. She smiles prettily down at the knight, a smattering of chuckles thrown in. “I wish you good fortune to you ser”

The knight bows his head in thanks and makes his way back to the competition. Y/N could not see the knights face but from the proud looking stag on his dented shield, she could take an educated guess.

The look had yet to fall from her aunts face as she made her way back to her seat “Sodjisto”

Ignoring the sounds of metal on wood, Y/N faces her aunt determined to get a reaction out of her.

“I’m fine sweetling” Y/N had never known that tone of voice come from the women next to her before, well never aimed towards her. While Y/N had achieved her end her aunts’ eyes had yet to move from the knight.

An almost bubbling feeling started in Y/N’s stomach, a feeling of dread. Why was her aunt watching this knight like that? Why was it not her that was being looked at?

These feelings were new and confusing. The young girl did not know what to do. A touch on her hand distracted her from her thoughts. Rhaenyra had grabbed the hand next to her, her thumb rubbing the back of it. The weight was comforting.

Unbeknownst to Y/N. Her aunt was weighing the pros and cons of having the knight taken out by someone loyal to her.

#house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targeryan #rhaenyra #game of thrones

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riversofmars · 5 days ago

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A Habit They Can't Break

Clearly, I lied, yet again, when I said I'd only write one Caitvi oneshot to get it out of my system... Anyway pitfighter Vi era hook up with General Kiramman cause they deserve to have messy sex when they're at their worst.

Vi's life has gone to shit after she has lost everything and anyone she ever cared about. With nothing much to live for, she seeks solace in booze, pitfighting in the lowest reaches of Zaun - all to drown out her yearning for the woman who has broken her heart. Getting over Caitlyn would surely prove a lot easier if the newly appointed General of Piltover didn't keep seeking her out in the dead of night. (Rating: Explicit)

“This place gets filthier every time.” Caitlyn's observation was devoid of emotion. It was a simple statement of fact, easily supported just by counting the empty liquor bottles around, but all Vi returned was a scoff.

“Yet you keep coming back,” she muttered, pulling herself onto her side on the lumpy mattress she called her bed. It was a far cry from the comfort of Piltover that she had so briefly enjoyed - just a distant memory now. The buzz of alcohol was still in her system, intended to numb all manner of pain, and yet, her whole body ached. Between old injuries that weren't allowed time to heal, and new ones she sustained every night, she couldn't tell where the pain came from anymore, except for the most prominent one that related to the familiar shape that had pushed into the dirty flat Vi slept in. ‘Lived in’ would be saying too much.

Caitlyn - or rather General Kiramman as she preferred to be called - was an imposing presence. Tall, dark in the shadows of the room, her cloak engulfing her like a shield. She seemed untouchable; here at least. There was bound to be an enforcer detail waiting for her outside. With her face plastered all over Zaun on propaganda posters, she was far too recognisable and a tempting target for anyone looking for trouble - and yet she still came here.

Vi blinked her tired eyes that burned from the charcoal she’s smudged all around her face, and willed herself to focus on the general, undecided whether she ought to think her real or just another hallucination.

“We still haven’t found her,” Caitlyn announced, her sharp gaze taking in the pitiful state of things and she placed her rifle against the wall, seemingly seeing no need for it.

“Gutting,” Vi huffed, turning onto her back as she waited for a wave of dizziness to pass. “You know I want nothing to do with it.”

“You must have heard something by now.” The general turned to face the bed, and Vi allowed herself a tired chuckle. She was getting bored of this game, the pretense of it all.

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” she muttered.

“Believe me, you would,” Caitlyn shot back, steel in her voice, and Vi had to work hard to suppress a groan and not let on that the thought of being interrogated by General Kiramman excited her more than it should. She blamed it on the alcohol.

“Save it for your detainees. I don't know anything. And you know that,” she countered and pushed herself upright to be able to meet the general's eyes. “Come on, we both know you’re not here for information.” A sly smirk came to her lips. She knew exactly what Caitlyn had come for and a familiar, thrilling sense of anticipation came over her. She loved and hated the nights when she sought her out. Rationally, she knew she was just using her, but perhaps it was mutual. Vi certainly got something out of it too. They seemed to be each other’s bad habit that they couldn’t shake.

The first time it had happened had been confusing. For a moment the pitfighter had genuinely thought Caitlyn had come to find her to apologise… but she couldn't have been more wrong. Everything after that had become a vicious circle of lust and regret.

Would tonight be any different?

Caitlyn didn't respond to her challenge, a picture of aloofness as she nudged over a couple of empty bottles, presumably just to annoy her.

“How's Maddie?” Vi asked, growing impatient. There was nothing she hated more than being ignored. “Does she not know how to get you off? Is that why you have to come here?” Her words seemed to have little - if any - effect on Caitlyn, but she looked back at her with those steely blues of hers that seemed to cut through the darkness, challenging her to say more. So the pitfighter did, getting up to approach her, even though she was far from steady on her feet. “Or do you not let her? Are you saving yourself for me?” She reached her personal space and deliberately ran her eyes up and down her body. How she longed to rip that bloody uniform off her.

It had hurt the first time Caitlyn had told her about Maddie, as she surely had intended for it to. But now, Vi just felt an odd sense of pity for the girl, since she clearly couldn't give the general what she wanted. Why else would she keep coming back here?

“Don't flatter yourself,” Caitlyn retorted indignantly, but Vi could tell, just from the way she narrowed her eyes at her that she had touched on something. She grinned, bold in her tipsy state.

“Or is that not fun for you? When they don't put up a fight?” she challenged, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face, but it didn’t last very long. Caitlyn remained unfazed, her response was simply a smirk of her own, the calculated, cold kind that Vi hated with a passion.

“You don't put up a fight either,” the general hummed, leaning down and dropping her voice. “All bark, no bite.”

“Is that right?” Anger flared in Vi's chest, and she had little in the way of inhibitions to control her impulses. If there was one thing she wouldn't have questioned, it was her strength. She launched herself forward to shove the other woman, but Caitlyn's reflexes were sharp.

It was over before it had truly begun. She ducked her attack and slammed her fist into her gut in return, immediately winding her opponent. It was a pitifully short altercation that left Vi crashing to the floor, catching herself on all fours and gasping for breath.

“You used to be better at that,” Caitlyn commented, standing over her. “Drinking is ruining your reflexes.”

“You've gotten stronger,” Vi winced in response, clutching her side.

“I've got a good teacher,” the general answered, and the pitfighter growled in dismay. Whatever Ambessa Medarda was teaching her, it was certainly to blame for the iron rule exerted over Zaun, the disassociation she saw in Caitlyn’s eyes, and the fact that Vi’s heart lay in pieces in the filth alongside her.

“Wonder what sort of training you're doing with her. Blowing off some steam, I bet,” Vi snarled, and a kick to her side threw her onto her back. “Fuck-” she winced, though not regretting her words in the slightest. Despite it all, she knew Caitlyn wasn’t out to genuinely hurt her, it was all just a power play, and she would be lying if she pretended she wasn’t a little into it too.

“Do you not get beaten up enough every night to satisfy your self-loathing?” Caitlyn challenged in a low voice. “Do you really need me to do it too?” Before Vi could even attempt to get up, she placed her heavy boot on her chest in a warning manner.

“Fuck you,” the Vi growled, and Caitlyn scoffed, nudging her chin with the tip of her boot.

“Quite right,” she hummed and reached to her belt, undoing it without much ceremony. The atmosphere shifted. “Let's get on.” She stepped off Vi's chest, but the pitfighter was in no rush to get up. Instead she bit her lip at the sight of the general undoing her trousers, forgetting to breathe. The air suddenly felt stiflingly hot and she could hear her heartbeat thundering in her ears, picking up speed, as tense silence fell.

There was no discussion, no negotiation, no need for further words. The look in Caitlyn's eyes told Vi all she needed to know, and a surge of desire came over her, far more powerful and intoxicating than any kind of alcohol. She pulled herself up to her knees in a sharp, swift movement, her aches all but forgotten, and she ripped Caitlyn's trousers down the rest of the way. She didn’t wait for permission, clawing back some control for herself, and buried her face between her legs.

“Fuck-” Caitlyin groaned, fisting her hands in the pitfighter’s inky hair. “I've missed this.”

‘This’. Not ‘you’.

Vi moaned, dragging her tongue through her folds, thrilled to find her wet and wanting. At least she knew she wanted her too. She wrapped her arms around her thighs, pulling her closer, and dug her fingers into her flesh so hard she hoped she’d bruise.

“Wish all your fucking admirers could see you now,” she growled, lapping eagerly the length of her before seeking her clit. “The mighty General of Piltover getting eaten out by a Zaun low-life.”

“As if anyone would believe it,” Caitlyn moaned breathlessly, grinding against her mouth, and Vi made sure to nuzzle her face into her thighs, leaving smudges of her charcoal make-up in the hope that Caitlyn would feel as dirty when she cleaned herself up as the pitfighter did. “Focus,” the general demanded, yanking her hair. “I haven’t got all night.”

Vi redoubled her efforts, plunging her tongue into her with the same fervour as though she was devouring a juicy meal, her wetness covering her mouth and chin. Her taste, her scent, the thrilling feeling of nails scraping her scalp- they took her in and made her forget all about how shitty life was.

Quickly she found Caitlyn’s clit again, sucking it between her lips, and the general gasped.

“Yes, Vi- Keep going!”

Just hearing Caitlyn moan her name was satisfaction enough for an intense feeling of pride to swell in the pitfighter’s chest. She repeated her actions, faster, harder, working her tongue against her eagerly until the general’s legs began to shake.

“Fuck-” she groaned, seeking purchase on the nearby table to hold herself up, and Vi moved with her, helping her onto the edge, lifting her legs to clamp around her head. Empty bottles clattered to the floor, forgotten and inconsequential.

Vi moaned too, it was as though she was drowning in Caitlyn and never wanted to come up for air again. Now, that would be a way to go. Over the course of many such encounters, she had learned all there was to know about the general’s body and it wasn’t long before she had her trembling and on the edge.

For a moment, Vi contemplated stopping, leaving her high and dry to see how she liked that, but even now, after the betrayal and heartbreak, she still longed to please her.

“Vi-” All it took was another moan of her name, and the pitfighter was prepared to give her anything.

She pushed her over the edge and Caitlyn came, long and hard, keeping Vi between her legs as her body shook, and the pitfighter cleaned her up, savouring the moment that would pass all too soon.

It ended with Caitlyn sitting herself up on the edge of the table and she reached down, grasping Vi’s jaw. Slowly, she ran her thumb along her lips, with an odd sort of expression in her eyes that Vi couldn’t quite interpret. She had little time to try and do so, as the moment of unexpected tenderness ended as swiftly as it had begun.

The general released her, pushing off the table to get up, and Vi relieved herself of the strain on her knees, simply dropping back onto her arse. Being on the ground was a safer bet than trying to stand.

“I trust that was to your satisfaction, General,” she quipped, turning to watch her make her way towards the bed. Something seemed to have grabbed her attention. Realisation dawned on Vi quickly, but she couldn’t bring herself to be embarrassed, not after everything they had already done, not even when Caitlyn picked up the strap-on that lay by the bottom of the bed.

“Not exactly inconspicuous,” the general commented, sounding almost amused as she examined the toy of purple silicon and leather straps.

“Well, a girl has needs,” Vi hummed, leaning back leisurely in the hopes of masking how much her own body ached for release, particularly at the sight of the other woman running her fingers along the length of the toy.

“Don’t I know it,” Caitlyn huffed, turning to face the pitfighter fully. “How many girls have you fucked with this?” she challenged, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“Jealous?” Vi couldn’t help a smirk, and the general tilted her head thoughtfully.

“No,” she decided after a moment’s contemplation. “Because I know they’re not the ones fucking you. Only I get to do that.”

Just like that, the temperature in the room appeared to jump once more. Vi swallowed hard, suddenly at a loss for words at the sight of Caitlyn stepping into the leather straps and pulling them up to her hips. This was new. The general had always been partial to having her way with Vi in return, bending her over the table and the like, but that marked a change from her slender fingers.

Of course, she was right too. Every meaningless shag Vi had had since their falling out had been a one-sided affair. While she had tried repeatedly, she simply couldn’t go through with it. The sad truth was she didn’t want anyone else to touch her like that, and a small part of her took satisfaction from knowing that it seemed to be the same for Caitlyn. Perhaps they were doomed to remain in this vicious circle, more than just a habit, more like a drug they just couldn’t give up.

“F-fuck off,” the pitfighter huffed, trying to appear nonchalant, but the tremble in her voice easily betrayed the undeniable thrill she felt.

“What? Am I wrong?” Caitlyn raised her eyebrows expectantly as she tightened the straps. “You want this just as much as I do.”

And Vi did. Desire pooled in her gut, her clothes felt all too restrictive.

“Don’t suppose you have any lube lying around, do you?” Caitlyn hummed, once seemingly happy with the fit of the strap that looked positively sinful between her long legs. She rid herself off her cloak and dropped it to the floor, unimportant and forgotten, as she advanced on Vi who remained on the floor, stunned, but breathing hard in anticipation. “Guess you'll have to get it wet the old-fashioned way.”

“Cait-” Vi muttered dumbly, heat shooting to her head, but before she knew it, the general was on her yanking her forward by the scruff of her neck, back onto her knees. The pitfighter looked up to her, her throat feeling incredibly dry, and Caitlyn smirked.

“Come on, Vi. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of girls suck your cock, you know how this works,” she teased and grabbed her jaw, nudging the tip of the strap against her lips.

“I-” Vi wasn’t entirely sure what she meant to say, her mind swimming in arousal, but she didn’t get the chance to finish as the general took advantage of her lips parting, pushing the silicon shaft inside.

“You can stop talking now,” she hummed, grabbing hold of her head, and Vi gagged.

“Fuck-” she groaned around the toy, the sense of humiliation feeding into her desire. Was she really going to give in so easily? All bark, no bite? Caitlyn pulled her head forward, rolling her hips, giving her little choice in the matter. Vi choked, trying to hold herself upright, seeking purchase on the general’s legs. She wanted to pull away, but Caitlyn held her firm.

“Be good for me, Vi,” she demanded in a low growl, and the pitfighter knew that the only way she would find release was by giving in to her. She stopped resisting and relaxed her jaw, moving her tongue and lips along the shaft obediently, casting a glance up to meet Caitlyn’s gaze. Her pupils were blown, darkening her piercingly blue eyes, and breathlessly, she whispered: “That’s it… see, you can listen when you want to.” She thrust her hips, and Vi groaned, coating the fake cock with her saliva as best she could.

“Get on the bed, and strip,” Catilyn demanded roughly once she was satisfied, pulling away, and leaving the pitfighter gasping for breath. “Unless you want me to fuck you on this filthy floor.”

Vi obeyed, her mind in a lustful haze. She stumbled as she kicked her shoes off on the way, but Caitlyn was there to steady her, grabbing her hips, and yanking down her trousers. She was growing impatient, they both were, and soon enough, Caitlyn shoved Vi down on the bed face first, her fingers plunging into the wetness between her thighs.

“Please-” Vi gasped breathlessly, pushing back against her fingers that briefly swirled around her clit, then probed her entrance with practised ease.

“I like hearing you beg,” the general growled, pulling the pitfighter onto her hands and knees, and sunk her fingers inside her. Vi moaned, biting her lip to the intense sensation of her scissoring her fingers apart. It was but the precursor and already her heartbeat was drumming in her ears, making her feel alive in a way that allowed her to forget the world around her. It was only when she was with Caitlyn, like this, that life seemed bearable, and absently she wondered if the other woman felt the same way as she buried herself in her grief and hunger for revenge.

The general retreated her fingers, and grabbed hold of Vi’s hips instead. The tip of the strap nudged against her and Vi took an unsteady breath.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you,” Caitlyn hummed, and the pitfighter sensed it would prove to be a lie, but all thoughts failed her, as she pushed into her, smooth, steady, but without relenting to the cry that tore itself from Vi’s throat.

“Shit-” she sobbed, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she tensed against the unfamiliar, unyielding intrusion.

“Not used to this, are you?” Caitlyn hummed behind her, mercifully allowing her a moment to adjust to the fullness, a tantalising mix of pain and pleasure that took Vi’s capacity for thought. She looped one hand around her, sparking pleasure through her clit with encouraging circles. “Relax,” she breathed, leaning over her and flattened her other hand to her back, testing the rise and fall of her laboured breaths. “It’ll be worse for you if you keep tensing.” She rocked her hips, and Vi gasped, trying her best to follow her demands, even if she was hardly in control of her body anymore. Everything seemed to spin and all she could hear was Caitlyn’s voice, burying into her subconscious and making her yield to her every whim.

“Fuck, I hate you…” the pitfighter whimpered, trying to keep a hold of herself but failing. The intensity was overwhelming but felt so good, it was addictive, just like everything else about Caitlyn. She relaxed around the strap and the general took every inch she gave as she started thrusting in a steady, increasing rhythm.

“Don't worry, you'll learn to love it,” Caitlyn growled, digging her fingers into her hips as she thrust harder.

Vi cried out, clawing at the mattress as she sought for something to hold on to. Her body thumped, blood rushing in her ears, as she gasped and moaned with every deep thrust that felt as though it would split her open. And yet, she couldn’t help but push back against her. She wanted to ask for more, harder, faster, but Caitlyn obliged before she could even find her voice. It was reduced to a series of whimpers, gasps and moans, incoherent, but seemingly urging the general on.

“See, not so mouthy now, are you?” she grunted, her breathing heavy too. “All bark and yet you let me fuck you like a bitch in heat.”

“Cait! Fuck!” Vi collapsed forward, she couldn’t hold herself up any longer, but Caitlyn didn’t let up, pounding her into the mattress.

“Come on, Vi,” she groaned, her voice raw and heavy. “I want to make you scream.”

And she did. She brought her hand around her front, rubbing against her clit, while burying the full length of the strap inside her again and again. Vi’s orgasm came over her like a flashflood, overwhelming her and swallowing her up. Heat burnt its way to every nerve ending and her body shook in waves of intense pleasure that left her spent and delirious once they had run their course.

She was barely aware of Caitlyn moving behind her at first, not until the disappointing feeling of emptiness as she pulled out of her. She couldn’t move, her limbs heavy and her thoughts a jumble, but she was vaguely aware of the rustling of clothes somewhere in the distance. Soon after, the strap-on landed on the mattress beside her with a thud.

“Feel better now?” Vi mumbled weakly, rolling onto her side for a less compromising position. Her vision was blurred, but she could just about make out Caitlyn pulling her ridiculous cape back on.

“No,” the general answered, sober and matter-of-fact, so much so that Vi could have laughed, had it not been so desperately sad. “Do you?”

“No,” the pitfighter answered, tears welling up in her eyes as her defenses cracked in her exhausted state. She extended a hand towards the blurry shape of the woman she still, despite everything, loved more than she could say. “Cait… please kiss me,” she begged, her voice rough and while she could hardly see her, there was a weight on the bed beside her.

A hand grasping for her cheek. Soft lips finding her own. A tender kiss. And then, the fire returned. The gesture turned passionate and raw; anger, hate, disappointment, hope, desire, love-

They didn’t break until they were both out of breath but eventually, Caitlyn pulled away. Carefully, she lay Vi’s head down on the bed and reached for her make-shift blanket - one of the flags that had been hung all over Zaun, bearing the Kiramman crest upon them.

Vi didn’t stop to think of all it represented when she draped it around her, she simply held on to the idea that she was looking after her.

“Will you come back?” she asked into the shadows, and Caitlyn’s voice seemed distant, drawing away.

“How can you even doubt that…”

Unable to fight her exhaustion any longer, Vi’s eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to her desire for rest. Slowly, her mind drifted out of consciousness, and she pretended she had Caitlyn's arms around her, not just the flag as a symbol of her power over her.

When she woke the next morning to a pounding headache, she'd hardly moved. The strap-on beside her was the only reminder of the previous night and yet, bitterly, Vi wondered if Caitlyn had really been there, or if she had simply fucked herself, trying to feel something in the numb nightmare that had become her existence.

#arcane #fanfiction #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #caitlyn arcane #caitvi #vi x caitlyn #season 2 #femslash

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anonymityisfunwriter · 9 months ago

Note

Hi!! Just wanna say I love your writing sm! And could you please tell how the friendship between loki and sunshine blossomed? I just love how sunshine is with people btw

- 🌻

Okay, okay, that's such a good question, like we already know how Sunshine and Loki met and we've seen a few glimpses into their friendship, but we don't know how they actually became friends. And that is an injustice. So allow me to recount how exactly Sunshine and Loki became friends.

F is For Friends Who Do Stuff Together

Part of The Grumpy X Sunshine Series

Loki smirks to himself. He wasn't going to do anything too awful, perhaps a little mischievous but why would anyone expect anything else from him?

It was their fault really. Leaving their newest addition all alone while he was lurking around the Compound. You're low hanging fruit ripe for the picking.

He didn't even have any real plans for you.

Perhaps he'd take you to Asgard for long enough for Thor to come looking. Long enough to frighten you, certainly. In truth, he was just bored and looking to stir up a little bit of chaos - and they made it far too easy for him.

After all, you're completely oblivious to him looming behind you. It was almost too easy.

He creeps up slowly, watching as you tend to a bouquet of flowers in the common room.

You're not even in within arm's reach when, without ever looking over your shoulder, you chirp, "Hi, Loki!"

He freezes, completely caught off guard, his plans entirely derailed, "How did you-"

You turn around with a bright smile, "How did I what?"

"How did you know I was there?"

You shrug, "I heard you."

"Impossible." It disturbs him more than it should. He was a god. Not just a god, but the god of deception and trickery. You were just the strange newcomer.

"Maybe you're not as sneaky as you think you are."

Despite how deeply unsettling this turn of events is, he smirks to himself. He knows you're completely unaware of the challenge you just issued.

So he tries. Again. And again. And again.

And each time, "Hi, Loki!" or "You almost got me that time!" or, worst of all "You're getting better everyday!"

It was maddening. Infuriating, even. He even scared Thor a few times just to make sure he hadn't somehow lost his touch. But no, his brother fell for the old snake in the common room trick every time without fail.

For three months, you held his attention. It was a new record for Loki. Every chance he got to catch you off guard, he took. And none of them ever worked.

One day, he swears he's finally done it. You're talking so enthusiastically to the SHIELD agent before you that there's no way you know he's lurking around the corner.

"Hold on," you tell the SHIELD agent you're speaking to whose name Loki hasn't bothered to learn. You turn around to find Loki a foot away from you, "Hi, Loki."

"What the hell was that?" the SHIELD agent demands.

"Oh, it's just this game me and Loki play." You dismissively wave your hand. "He tries to sneak up on me and I find him before he does. It's sort of like a very intense game of hide and seek."

"I think he's trying to kidnap you."

"It's alright. He's my friend."

Loki falters just as he's about to storm away, "I beg your pardon?"

"What?"

"What did you just say?"

"I said that it's alright because you're my friend," you casually repeat.

"That! Right there!" Loki explains, gesturing between you and him. "When did we become friends?"

"Umm... I don't know. We've been playing this game for like three months, so like three months ago, I guess."

Loki's eyebrows furrow together. He's not quite sure if it's the most endearing or the most disturbing thing he's ever heard. Worst of all, you don't seem to be afraid of him. "I've been trying to abduct you for three months and you call me your friend?"

"Well, I know you'd bring me back eventually. Plus, I've always wanted to visit another realm, it's on my bucket list!"

"What gave you the impression that I'd return you?"

You shrug, "I'm not worried about it, I trust you."

Your words strike a chord deep within Loki. He can't remember the last time someone trusted him, but you did. You did because you considered him a friend. "You trust me because I am your friend?"

You nod repeatedly, "Pretty much."

The corner of Loki's mouth twists upward, "Huh..."

"What?"

"I think I might need to find someone new to wreak havoc on."

"Oooh, we should play a prank on Sam!"

Loki smile mischievously at you, "I think we'll get along just fine."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy

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abiiors · 1 year ago

Note

A small little blurb of Matty taking care of sick reader on a cold rainy day. (Im totally not sick and I’m totally not projecting)

because ik sicktember ‘23 is happening, i just thought i would use their prompt for today "sick in an inconvenient place"

hope you feel better soon, babe. sending you hugs <33

walking into work today was a bad idea. fuck, getting out of bed in the first place was an even worse idea. perhaps the worst one ever or so you’re convinced now that you sit at your desk shivering and sweating simultaneously.

for some reason, cool air blasts out of the ac. the temperature is set so low that the whole area feels like a walk-in freezer. and then there’s the torrential rain outside on top of everything.

you know, despite having an umbrella you will be drenched by the time you make it to the bus stop. and just the thought of being cold and damp while you feel like you're on the verge of death, makes you want to burst into tears.

another sniffle from you. another glare from the new guy sitting across from you and you decide enough is enough.

matty :( is the only thing you need to text him before he’s calling you within thirty seconds.

in the background, you hear the same pitter-patter of rain, muffled and drowned out by other sounds and the riff of a guitar here or there. but it’s very much present. very persistent.

“what’s wrong, darling?” he asks as soon as you pick up.

when you pathetically sniffle some more, you hear him move. a door opens, then closes and the sounds behind him vanish.

“hello?” he asks again, “you there?”

“i feel like shit,” you croak out. maybe you even speak for the first time that day because you surely don’t remember your voice sounding this dull and hoarse.

“no shit,” he sighs. “you don’t sound all that well…”

“i don’t feel all that well…” you rub your face tiredly, massaging your achy temples. it’s only 3 in the afternoon. you still have 3 more hours of work to go.

“can you pick me up? please i can’t, i feel so shocking, i–”

“sweetheart,” he interrupts. “go tell your manager you’re leaving. i’ll be there in fifteen.”

—

and he is there in fifteen as promised. his car is parked as close to the curb as possible and matty stands next to the open door holding out an umbrella, and holding out his other hand for your bag.

the sight fills your entire body with relief, even as you watch him get half-drenched trying to hold the umbrella above your head, shielding you from any stray droplets. once you’re safely in the car, he closes the door, running to the other side to get in and tossing both your bag and the wet umbrella onto the backseat before he fully focuses his attention on you.

matty tuts in sympathy. “oh you do look awful…”

you roll your eyes, annoyed and weirdly emotional but as soon as his cool hand touches your forehead, half of it melts away.

“you’re really warm,” he frowns, bringing the same cool hand to your cheek and checking again. “lets get you home, okay? you’re practically falling asleep here.”

“i’m just really cold,” you complain in a small voice, wiping at your nose with the sleeve of your sweater like a small child. it makes him smile.

“i’ll turn the ac off,” he says and leans over to press a kiss on your head.

the car is mercifully warm after that and even though the chills are still there, at lease there’s no cold air blasting in your face. you know he must be uncomfortably warm under the flannel he’s wearing but the drive only lasts another ten minutes before you’re rounding onto the familiar street and stopping in the driveway of your home.

matty turns around to get the umbrella again, stopping halfway to press another kiss, this time on your cheek, and hurries out the door to come to your side. you coax your achy body to move, to get prepared to make a dash inside. but the most you manage is a wobble up to the front door followed by wheezing and groaning.

matty’s face falls in sympathy. “aww, c’mere baby,” he coos, letting you burrow your face into his chest while he unlocks the front door. he tries his hardest to walk like that, to let you stay close to him and steal some of his body heat while he gets your stuff inside.

“can you tell me what hurts?”

“everything,” you whine, “my head, my body. my throat hurts a bit too.”

setting the things aside, matty cradles your face, bringing you both to the sofa to sit you down.

“no more moving for you okay?” he speaks into your hair, seeing as how your face is once again tucked into his chest. “gonna take care of you.”

you nod, closing your eyes and breathing in his comforting scent.

“now how about you lay down. i’ll get you some stuff and we can just relax and cuddle for a bit. does that sound good?”

and you only need to nod once again to convey that it sounds absolutely fantastic.

#✉️#♤: matty blurbs #matty healy x reader

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stardustloki · 5 months ago

Text

Being Useful

When Wrecker is injured, the entire Batch agree that he needs time to rest and heal. This is why, when Shep asks the Batch for help with a task that will be sure to make his injuries worse, Omega is baffled when her brothers agree immediately.

The Batch know that they're safe on Pabu. However, they haven't quite understood that their safety doesn't rely on them always making themselves useful.

Tags: Gen, Omega and Wrecker POVs, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Found Family, Past Trauma (Kamino was NOT a good place), Non-Graphic Description of Minor Injuries

Read on Ao3 here.

Or under the cut...

“That should do it,” Echo said at last, securing the long bandage he’d wrapped around Wrecker’s torso. “It’ll heal up fine, but-” he fixed him with a stern look- “only if you rest and give the bacta time to do its job.”

Omega watched as Wrecker visibly deflated.

“You mean I’ve got to sit around doing nothing!”

“If you don’t put any strain on your muscles for the next rotation, the bacta will do its job and the tears in your trapezius will heal.” Echo folded his arms. “If you don’t rest them, if you go around lifting heavy things, they won’t heal, and you’ll be bored for much longer.”

Wrecker stared up at the ceiling, letting out a frustrated sigh. “ Fine. ”

“Lyana was going to teach me how to make sushi today,” Omega spoke up. “You could come with me, if you want. It should be interesting, and we’ll be eating a lot.”

As she waited, hoping her brother would say yes, she caught the grateful look Hunter was sending her out of the corner of her eye. Getting any of her brothers to take it slow after an injury in the field had always been a difficult task, and Wrecker, with his boundless energy and need to move, had always been the worst of them. If he said yes to this, at least she knew he wouldn’t put any strain on his back for the next hour or so.

Her brother looked thoughtful for a second, before smiling at her. “Yeah, okay. I guess that could be fun.”

“Awesome!” she replied, feeling the excitement swell within her, jumping up slightly on the balls of her feet.

She waited, hoping she seemed far more patient on the outside than she felt on the inside, as Hunter helped Wrecker get his shirt back on and Echo packed away the medical supplies. Crosshair was sitting on the bench near the door, chewing a toothpick and tinkering with the settings for his prosthetic hand.

Without warning, Hunter seemed to freeze, glancing at the wall of their home, moving his head slowly towards the door, as if tracking someone. A few seconds later, there was a knock. Omega shrugged and went to open it.

Shep was outside, grinning widely at her through the doorway. She couldn’t help but grin back at the man she was slowly coming to consider her uncle.

“Omega! How are you?” he asked.

“Great, thanks. Looking forward to hanging out with Lyana! What about you?”

“Eh, I’m alright. But there’s been a couple problems I’m hoping your brothers will be able to help out with. Can I come in?”

“Sure!”

She stepped aside to let him in, but as she turned back towards her brothers she found herself frowning, brain stuttering in alarm.

Hunter, Crosshair and Echo were all standing in between Shep and Wrecker. With the way they’d staggered themselves, the pattern appearing almost natural, perhaps to an outsider like Shep it wouldn’t look as if they’d placed themselves in a defensive formation, clearly attempting to shield Wrecker, but to Omega it couldn’t have been more obvious.

What wasn’t obvious, however, was why they were doing it. This was Shep. One of the nicest people they’d ever met. There was absolutely no need to protect Wrecker from him.

“Good morning, how are you boys today?” Shep’s voice was as welcoming as ever, but Hunter was far more guarded when he spoke.

“We’re all fine, thank you.” Omega frowned at Hunter’s words, she wouldn’t class Wrecker as ‘fine’. “How can we help?”

“There’s a house down near the coast, it got damaged real bad in the storm last night. I was hoping you’d help rebuild it. Wrecker would be a real help bringing up some of the building materials from one of the ships in the dock.”

“Sounds good,” Hunter replied. “Just tell us where the house is and we’ll be there.”

Wait, what?

She waited for Echo to speak up, to repeat what he’d told Wrecker just a few minutes before. Neither Echo nor Crosshair opened their mouths to speak. Instead, they watched Shep with neutral expressions, clearly waiting for him to carry on the conversation.

“Awesome, I’ll send you the address on my comm and-”

“Wait, stop,” Omega interrupted, because if everyone was gonna act like they’d lost their minds, at least she could be the voice of reason. “Wrecker can’t help you, he’s-”

“He’s fine, sir,” Hunter cut across her.

She could literally feel herself gaping at him, but he didn’t spare her a glance, keeping his steady gaze firmly on Shep, who surely must be realising this was weird, right? Hunter had just called him ‘sir’, for kriff’s sake. Hunter had never called him ‘sir’.

Thankfully for her sanity, Shep did seem to find this weird, because he was frowning at Hunter, his head tilted slightly.

“If Wrecker’s injured in some way…” he began.

“It’s nothing,” Wrecker said.

“Nothing serious,” Hunter added, the ‘s’ on serious a little too stuttered for Omega to believe that he hadn’t been about to call Shep ‘sir’ again before cutting himself off.

She stared at him incredulously. Not serious? Okay, it wasn’t serious like a blaster wound was serious, or like a chip in your brain was serious. But, even though he’d tried to hide it, she’d known that Wrecker had been in agony before Echo had applied the bacta, and he’d only stop the injury from healing, or even make it worse, if he started lifting things now.

Besides, Shep considered a small cut serious. She knew because of how he’d fussed over Lyana the last time they’d cooked together and Lyana had nicked herself when her knife had slipped. He’d also been way too concerned when Omega had fallen down the stairs during a game of tag with her friend - she’d only had a couple of bumps and grazes after all, they were basically routine on missions! There was absolutely no way he’d consider letting Wrecker hurt himself more by helping - so why weren’t the others telling him?

“If you’re sure,” he replied, an edge of uncertainty in his voice.

“No, he’s-”

Hunter made a clearly frantic but barely noticeable gesture in battlesign, with one of the hands he was keeping firmly by his side, telling her that she needed to stop, now. She cut herself off, scowling at him.

If Hunter was using battlesign that meant this was important, that his orders needed to be followed. She knew it also meant he must have an explanation for this, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be frustrated, even as she obeyed. It wasn’t her fault his orders made no sense.

“Omega’s upset because she invited Wrecker to make sushi with her and Lyana,” Echo said, eyes flickering down towards the floor as he struggled with the lie.

Shep fixed her with a kind smile. Omega did her best to look like it didn’t irritate the hell out of her at that moment. “I’m sure he’ll be able to help next time. So,” he addressed the others, “I’ll see you boys in half an hour or so. If anything changes, or you’re not able to help for any reason, just let me know.”

After he’d left, Omega let her brothers feel the full force of her glare.

“What the hell was that?”

She was surprised to hear Crosshair speaking those words, considering they were exactly what she’d been about to ask the four of them.

“I could ask you the same,” she snapped, folding her arms. “Have you forgotten that there are small tears in Wrecker’s back muscles. Do you want him to get hurt worse.”

Crosshair took a step towards her. Omega only narrowed her eyes further.

“Have you forgotten that they allow us to live here, that they protect us from the Empire even after it invaded their home, because we’re useful to them?” He replied. Omega felt her mouth drop open for the second time that day. “Have you thought about what happens when we stop being useful to them?”

“They invited us to live here because they like us, because they care about us!” Omega protested.

Crosshair scoffed, and, as she glanced at the others, hoping that they’d back her up on this, she could see they looked a mix of wary and uncomfortable.

“I’m sure they do, at least a bit,” Hunter told her, voice gentle, as if he was telling her something difficult to hear. Omega supposed it was difficult, if only because they were being so ridiculous. “But they’ll probably like us a whole lot less if we don’t help them.”

“He wouldn’t want Wrecker to be in pain.”

“I’m fine, Omega,” Wrecker said, walking over to wrap her in a hug, which she gracelessly accepted. “I’ve had to deal with worse, way worse. I’ll be back here recovering before you know it.”

“He probably wouldn’t want Wrecker to be in pain,” Echo agreed, “But-”

“There isn’t any ‘but’ to this!” Omega snapped. “He cares about us, he cares about Wrecker. That isn’t going to change because Wrecker can’t help out one time.”

“Sorry, kid,” Wrecker told her, gently ruffling her hair. “You aren’t going to win this one.”

She sighed, allowing her head to rest against his chest. “Fine,” she groaned. “Guess I’ll go make sushi with Lyana myself then.”

The frustration and anger remained within her throughout her walk along the sunny streets of Pabu. It hadn’t abated by the time she reached Lyana’s, not when she was aware that Wrecker should have been there beside her, not walking in the other direction, about to start doing an activity that was only going to hurt him and make his injuries worse.

Whatever Omega might think about Echo’s lying skills, hers weren’t much better, and Lyana could tell something was up almost as soon as she’d arrived. Well, Omega wanted to know the truth, and she didn’t much feel about hiding what had upset her anyway, so once they were both sitting in the comfortable wooden bench on Lyana’s patio, sipping on the smoothies her friend had prepared, she asked Lyana if her dad had ever stopped liking her because she hadn’t helped him.

Lyana was horrified. “No! Why would you even ask that, Omega?”

She shrugged, but felt her heart lighten at the answer. “Has he ever stopped liking someone else?”

“No! Omega-”

“Wrecker’s injured, he’s hurt his back really badly,” she explained, relieved that she’d been correct. “But my brothers think that if they don’t help your dad, then he’s gonna stop being kind to us or something.”

Lyana gaped at her. “But he’d never do that! He loves you guys, we both do!” She thought for a moment, eyes flickering from side to side. “I’ll comm him, let him know what’s going on. He’ll know what to do.”

For the first time in the last twenty minutes, Omega felt like the world was slowly starting to make sense again. And, as Lyana’s call connected to her dad, she let herself smile at that.

Wrecker walked down to the house near the coast, flanked by his brothers on both sides. He felt sad for Omega, for how upset she’d got on his behalf, but really, he’d be okay. Sure, this was going to be difficult, and it was going to hurt, but he pushed through pain on missions all the time. Besides, he knew with absolute certainty that it was going to be nothing compared to the tests the scientists and trainers had put him through back on Kamino. Sooner or later, his injuries would heal and he’d be fine again. It didn’t really matter that making sushi with Omega had sounded nice.

As they approached, Shep waved to them, and they waved back, before making their way down the steps towards him.

“Where do you want us?” Hunter asked.

Shep explained their tasks, one by one, until he got to Wrecker. He passed him the fishing rod he was carrying. “I’d like you to sit on the jetty and catch us some fish for lunch.”

Wrecker could tell by his brother’s reactions that he wasn’t the only one confused by that. “I thought you wanted me to carry building supplies?”

He shook his head. “Change of plans. I got some other guys who’re doing that.”

And, okay, maybe that made sense. But wouldn’t Wrecker’s strength be more useful helping with the rebuilding work instead of sitting around catching fish? He opened his mouth to ask why and was rewarded with a sharp elbow in his left side. Right, Crosshair had a point there, it would be stupid to get himself hurt worse when he was being given a way out.

About half an hour later, Wrecker sat by the sea, holding his fishing rod steady. As the minutes passed, he could feel the pain in his back lessen as his feeling of relaxation grew.

He looked across as Shep moved the bucket of fish backwards, before taking its place beside him.

“Looks like you’ve been doing good work,” he commented.

“I guess.”

“We’re repairing Nixret’s house,” Shep continued, as they both stared across the ocean. “Nix is old, he can’t see, he can barely walk anymore, he relies on the kindness of his neighbours to help him out everyday. But he’s one of the most interesting people I know. Do you think I don’t care about him because he can’t get around by himself?”

“No,” Wrecker replied, brow crinkling. It was obvious that Shep cared, he wouldn’t be organising all this if he didn’t. Then his brow creased further. “Omega told you what we talked about, didn’t she?”

Shep nodded, and Wrecker found himself tensing in a way that sent shocks of pain across his shoulder blades.

“She did, and I’m glad she did. And you should be glad you’ve got such a good sister.” Out of the corner of his eye, Wrecker could see that Shep was smiling at him, eyes full of concern. “You are a part of this community now Wrecker. And that won’t change if you can’t lift heavy objects. I like you because you’re you, not because of what you can do for me. And I’ve been told to tell you Lyana likes you because she thinks you’re her funniest uncle.”

“Oh,” Wrecker said, staring down at the water. He didn’t know what to say. It would probably have been easier to come up with something to say if he’d even known what to think.

“I don’t know what you boys have been through exactly,” Shep continued. “But I know whatever it was, it can’t have been easy. Even so, I’d appreciate it if you told me in the future when helping me out would hurt you.”

Wrecker nodded, still feeling blank.

“Alright then. Shall we get these fish back to the others?”

This right here was easily much firmer ground. “Sounds good,” he replied, managing a smile.

As they walked together, back towards the house his brothers were working on, Wrecker found himself thinking about what Omega had said earlier, and what Shep had said just then. It didn’t feel true, not exactly, and he knew that he’d have to discuss it with Hunter and the others later. But even if it didn’t feel true, that didn’t mean that it wasn’t true.

Maybe, they could be safe here, even when they weren’t useful?

#tbb #summerofbadbatch2024 #week 2: injuries #tbb omega #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #shep hazard #lyana hazard

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 11 months ago

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World War Z is one of my favorite novels, but every time I reread it I am reminded of how painfully American it is. Very "third-way centrist," very "Democratic Liberal during the Bush years," very "I believe in America, we're the best country on Earth, let us show you the light." it is vehemently anticommunist, and plays the "both sides" card by having a character whose family suffered under Pinochet claim that imperialism and white hegemony are ghosts from a bygone era that developing nations need to get over; "far-left is just as bad as far-right, why can't we all just get along?"

A lot of the stories are interesting, and I want to do an in depth analysis of the timeline of the Great Panic someday, but this is a book that suggests Colin Fucking Powell would have been a great bastion of democracy and freedom, so I can't take any of the politics seriously anymore.

Iran becoming a nuclear nation and going to war with Pakistan

A Chinese civil war splits the PLA and dissolves the PRC, but not a single word is spoken about the multiple separatist movements in the United States after they were abandoned by the federal government for YEARS in zombieland (only that they were "given the option to be readmitted peacefully" when the feds came marching back)

Floridians turning Cuba into a "capitalist utopia" and Fidel Castro taking credit for the subsequent Cuban Evolution

Nelson Mandela personally signing off on an Apartheid-era plan to abandon half the country as human bait

The whole situation between Israel and Palestine (that is a can of worms I am neither qualified nor willing to dissect here)

Hollywood military propaganda gives people the will to live

The British royal family "shielding the soul" of the UK under the burden of their godlike mandate?!? (gag me with a fucking spoon...)

This book would be VERY different if it were written today. Published in 2006, it was obsessed with the Cold War but barely glossed over the War on Terror with one reference to "Gulf War 2" (Iraq) and a handful of references to a low-intensity "brushfire war" (Afghanistan) that ended in American victory by 2008, although a Pyrrhic one. I do not remember nor can I even imagine a time when ANYTHING within this book could be considered plausible outside the deepest fears and/or wettest dreams of the most diehard 'Mericans.

The more I get into it, the worst is sounds. I think I like the idea of the book more than the book itself now.

The prologue ends with a hint at an eventual sequel. The narrator says that a lot of people consider it too early to write a history book about a war that only just ended (and in fact is still being fought in some northern countries), and that it will take a few generations for people to fully process what happened. "Perhaps decades from now, someone will take up the task of recording the recollections of the much older, much wiser survivors." That is a book I would like to read; a retelling of WWZ with far less hero worship and characters who don't all sound like a 30-something American SNL writer.

#world war z #max brooks #politics #geopolitics

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endursent · 1 month ago

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- God Shattering Star

【 content; morax | rex lapis x reader , slow burn , mutual pining , multi-chapter , archon war period , afab!reader 】

【 note; i also want to ask you to keep in mind english isn't my first language and i tend to mix my "it's" and "its"-es in the flurry of writing. i go through it and run it through a spell-checker but if you spot any errors please let me know. this one is also a little longer. tumblr is all caught up now as well, so expect some days between updates. i might also post a sunday one-shot before the 6th chapter, cant get this stupid bird outta my brain, we'll see. | read on ao3 】

【 word count; 6.204 | previous chapter - next chapter | masterlist 】

- Chapter 5 - Putrefaction

You scratch your cheek awkwardly, avoiding Guizhong’s gaze and smile. You were supposed to head back home soon, with the infected now fine and healthy…

Tossing your stuff together back in the basket you brought with you, a knock had come to your door and an attendant had given you summons to Guizhong’s palace, a short walk through a few hallways. It was decorated in a subtle manner, no big wall scrolls or long hanging silks, but the wood along walls and ceilings was all carved and the floors centred with decorated carpets.

What you assumed would be a formal goodbye, as it had been a greeting when you came first into the palace… had turned into a proposition.

A god had fallen near the western border, and the already crumbled settlement from the heavy earthquake yesterday, was now drenched in miasma from the quickly rotting essence scattered by their death. A report had been sent to the capital with request of a cleanser, the worst of the injuries have been patched and thus they decided not to allocate more hands to the west, but with the scarcity of skilled cleansers, there is never one on-site at the borders, hence why such–usually rare–cases were brought to you when you were down south.

“I know you must be looking forward to returning home,” Guizhong’s voice is gentle, she stands in front of a low table in the… workshop? Office? There’s clutter everywhere. “But only you are suitable for this task… of course, you will be compensated for the trouble–oh! Speaking of.” She reaches behind her to a box that sits on her desk, she turns back to you and sets it in your hand. “For you.”

“Me?” you look down at the box, it’s a golden colour, decorated with dark streaks that represent gushes of wind. Should you open it now? Save it for later?

Before you can look up to try and gauge whether Guizhong is waiting for you to open it, she takes your shoulders, spins you around, and practically walks you out of her office. “You can thank me later, off you go!”

It’s a four day’s journey by cart, so there’s no time to waste, and your sense of duty and compassion prevent you from saying no to the request, so you obediently hurry off after she practically shoo’s you away. There are people hurting that need your help, perhaps the days of sitting in small villages and cleansing rotting wood are coming to an end. “I suppose I’m packed already,” you say and give her a wave as you retreat down the hallway, and the God of Dust smiles, the mere raise of her lips comparable to a beam of sunlight.

Standing by the gates at the peak of the high steps leading to the places, you read over a copy of the report that was sent in the aftermath of the heavy earthquake. The outpost Morax went to had collapsed almost entirely, with only a single building with a roof able to shield them for the night. The outpost is southwest of the capital, and you wonder if the quake was connected to the death of the god beyond the Guili Assembly, it would be quite the coincidence if it wasn’t…

You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see a familiar face that almost makes you laugh.

“Babysitting duty again?” your mouth twitches, barely able to hold back a grin from the frankly stinky look Moon Carver is giving you.

“Hmph,” he walks past you, and despite not confirming that he was the one to escort you, it was an educated guess. He didn’t object when you followed him down the steps. “This one has other duties to tend to far from the capital but keeps getting called back to walk you around.”

You fold your arms over your chest, ensuring the basket on your back doesn’t slip as you bounce down the stairs. “Like what? What do adepti normally do on the job?” you touch your chin. “Babysit… other humans? On a wider scale?”

“It will take too long to walk,” he grumbles something else under his breath as well, ignoring your pondering entirely and you wonder what other option there is to get there. You suppose a cart tugged along by a horse or ox will speed it significantly, but no one mentioned anything about it. “We are short on time.”

The next moment brought you both momentary awe and prolonged terror, a gust of wind nearly tosses your balance on the steep steps as a glow of green and brown, the warm hues of autumn leaves and a setting sun, nearly blind you. You barely manage to squint and make out a form next to you where Moon Carver had been standing when you feel a sudden tug on your basket.

He hooked an antler under the strap on your shoulder and tossed you onto his back, you clumsily adjusted yourself, blinking in confusion and surprise, you look down to see his legs lift and take a step down the stairs… quite a high step for–

You almost lose your balance again as he suddenly trots into the air, you wrap your arms around his neck as wind flies past your head. “N-no flying!” your pleas are useless as roofs become the size of cubed tofu below you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. One would think there would be a sense of weightlessness when taking flight–but all you could feel and focus on was the demanding law of gravity trying to pull you down back to earth. “Slow down!!”

“Stop whining, this is much faster.”

Of course, you’re aware that adepti can fly, countless tales and paintings depict them above the clouds or mountains… but not usually with passengers!

You were sure you were choking him with how tight your arms were wrapped around his neck and likely hurting him by digging your feet into his sides, but he didn’t complain. A ride on an adeptus bird might be smoother, because Moon Carver hops and trots in the air, as if he were jumping between rocks to cross a river, or clouds to pass between mountains causing your body to lift off his back (making you think you’re about to be tossed off) before hurting your poor hip bone when you hit his spine again. You didn’t dare look down, keeping your eyes closed tightly and face buried in the softer fur of his head and neck, the hairs along his body being shorter and stiffer.

“How high up are we?” you dare ask, but refuse to peek your eyes open just yet.

Moon Carver is silent for a few seconds. “High. Do not look if it scares you.”

With that useless information, you finally squint your eyes open despite his advice and thankfully you don’t see the ground below you, a dooming invitation. Clouds cover your view of the ground as the adeptus leaps between puffed peaks, the sun feels significantly warming so high above the ground and feels so close you feel like reaching out to try and grab it like a rare gem–but that means letting go of your iron grip around the poor stag’s neck, and your body doesn’t let you consider it for more than a second and a half.

The ride was, frankly, terrifying. But leaping several kilometres in one hop means you got to your destination before the sun’s top half had sunk beneath the mountains. The air had gotten colder quickly once the sun sank, and you were thankful for reaching your destination before you began to feel the cold on your nose. The descent was possibly more terrifying than the ascent, Moon Carver didn’t give you a warning before he suddenly dove down and you lost your grip for a moment. You really did think you were about to fly off and meet the earth in a flattening embrace.

Moon Carver didn’t change back once you got off his back, he did let you lean against him as you readjusted to standing on the ground, only inclining his head–and almost knocking his large antlers into your forehead. You pat his back. “Hahh… I never want to do that again, let’s go by ground next time,” you nod to yourself, as if it had been decided with your words alone. “I thought I was going to die four times through that.”

“You were never in any danger,” Moon Carver makes a snorting sound, shaking his snout slightly–you aren’t sure if he’s actually scoffing at your (in your opinion) very rational fear of death up there, or just making a normal huffing noise animals make sometimes. “In any case, the outpost that stood despite the tremors is just up ahead.”

The area is thick with trees, they’re far taller than you’ve seen before, stretching high above your head as you follow a road wheel-marked by the Millelith taking supplies and soldiers back and forth between outposts and the main road. It’s almost eerily quiet, as if all animals and bugs have left the surrounding area behind, leaving only your shoes and Moon Carver’s hooves hitting the ground with every step.

You arrive at a clearing sitting at the foot of a high hill with a watchtower stretching into the sky, the sky has darkened and the stars sit high in the sky, distant dots you must squint to make out whether they flicker or are static. The outpost is livelier than the empty forest, but the air is distinctively tense, a Millelith soldier stops as he’s carrying a bundle of firewood when he sees the two of you approach and Moon Carver side-eyes you. “Looks like it can be taken from here, I’ll be going now.”

“Oh, uh–fly safe,” you turn as he does, he makes the huffing sound again but says nothing more and leaves into the forest again. You look back as the Millelith soldier approaches you. “Hello, I’m–”

“The cleanser that was sent for. I remember you,” he says. “I had mild symptoms and only stayed for a few nights, but I saw you in the ward.”

Damn, this guy must be unlucky to have been in two situations like this within a month. Hopefully that doesn’t rub off on you. You give him a small, polite smile. “I’m glad you got better.”

“Come, I’ll show you where the affected are,” he sets his bag down by the side of a cracked wall as he brings you to the–barely–standing building. You see lights inside and can practically smell the miasma coming from inside, you pull the left collar of your robe up over your nose as you follow the soldier inside… and the sight is far worse than the smell.

Twenty-four soldiers are either lying down on the floor or sitting up against the surrounding walls, tables have been stacked on one side and space made for them to fit in one part of the three story building. Only two healers are present to tend to them, rushing between patients to either check wounds, help them adjust their position or administer treatment. Among the two is a familiar silhouette, Morax’s hood is pulled down as he holds the leg of an injured man between his hands, a golden glow emanating from his clothed hands. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as dark, gooey blood leaking from the pores of the man’s skin and onto the cloth laid on the floor under him.

You don’t want to break his concentration, so you busy yourself by setting your basket down and fetching your tools, bundling them up in a cloth and slinging across your torso and shoulder. You kneel beside a man by the door, his breaths are raspy and desperate, as if every inhale requires immense effort to make–he barely seems lucid, eyes fixed on the ceiling and making no indication he even notices you.

Alongside the terrible stench of blood, rotted flesh and bodily fluids, is the air in the room that was terribly thick. It’s difficult to breathe it in, like when you were young and hid from old Lin trying to drag you back to the archives by lying under four layers of fur for too long.

His stomach is wide open beneath the bandages, it’s as if all blood had dried up from his body, the bare flesh is dry and quivers under your touch. The man doesn’t move or react even as you prod at open muscle, it’s all stiffened up and firm… and peeking between torn tendons are pulsing and writhing organs. Your nose scrunches up as the dark mass twitches when your hand touches the flesh close to it–as if it were trying to shrink back. You would’ve expected an organ to have a sheen to it, to be moist and slippery, but its texture looked like a steamed bun.

As soon as you poked at the sensitive, open flesh, your finger nearly sank into it. You quickly retracted your hand, the amount of foul energies in his body was almost disgusting. Your finger felt as if it had just stuck itself into wet mud–somehow without the moisture–and very cold to the touch mud at that.

You slap a talisman on the floor next to you and scribble on it, the energies are spread throughout his whole body, which requires a more lengthy process than if it were just condensed in his arm or leg… even just in the skin or one organ. You look up to find any open windows, the air is already heavy, if you light incense it’ll make the air so stuffy not even you will be able to breathe without sneezing.

All of the windows are already open, so the heavy air you have is the best you’re going to get for now. You take out a few sticks… how many do you even have? You didn’t exactly shop before you set off… you’ve made them yourself a few times–but they don’t work as well as ones crafted by temples. One will have to do for now, cleansing the man will likely take its time, and you want to properly assess–

As you stick the incense into the small portable pot, long fingers wrap around your wrist.

You almost jump from the sudden touch, head whipping up and almost knocking foreheads with Morax behind you. Thankfully he tilts his head back in time, but his fingers remain around your wrist. “Don’t start yet,” he speaks strangely quietly, as if he doesn’t want anyone to hear your conversation. “Put your hand to it and hold it.”

He guides your hand to the man’s belly, to the open muscle below torn skin and lets you press your fingers to it… it’s gross, but you keep focused. Squinting at the tissue, you try to feel for whatever Morax is trying to bring to your attention. It takes a few seconds of consideration before you feel it.

A squirming, warm mass beneath the cold muscle. It brushes against your finger and you yank your hand back again–Morax lets go and doesn’t hold your fingers to it. “U-urgh, what was that?” you make a face. It had been under the muscle, so you wouldn’t feel it properly–but it was like it touched you through the barrier of flesh, touched your brain. It felt like a sharp stone being ground quickly across the surface of another stone, like it was trying to slip into your spine.

“I am not sure,” Morax mumbles, you feel his warm breath fan over the skin beneath your ear and you turn your head. His conspicuous eyes had the same soft glow to them as usual, and you briefly wonder if they glow in the dark when he goes to sleep. “Not all of them have this… passenger, it’s possible the spirit has not departed yet, the remains are yet fresh.”

You don’t usually deal in ghosts and spirits, but extracting the miasma left behind, as well as the soul, uses the same method… just a lot more practice, focus and energy.

Wait.

You give him a slightly startled look. “If it’s the spirit… it’s not good to keep the afflicted all in the same room, the soul grows stronger if the shards of it are close together. They should be moved apart, even just three together could be dangerous.”

“The deceased’s soul was scattered halfway over Teyvat, the dust settled on twenty bodies won’t produce much danger,” Morax shakes his head. It is less than a fraction of the dead god’s soul, it won’t be able to do much damage even if it were to combine.

“Not to you, no,” you blurt out, then immediately regret it when he raises his brows. You stutter a few times. “W-well, I mean–we’re just human, even a small fraction of a god can kick us around like a cuju ball!” you accidentally raised your voice slightly in your hurry to explain what you meant and caught the attention of one of the two healers, giving you a confused look–as if judging you for talking about cuju now of all times. You just gave them a crooked smile before turning back to Morax.

He considers you for a moment. He would put a stop to any foreign power if he felt it, and with his presence in the room, it wouldn’t do much damage before he notices–and they don’t have much in terms of whole buildings, building tents for every individual injured would consume more resources than he wants to allocate. “We will have to work with what we have, if anything comes up then I will handle it.”

You nod and can’t help but feel a bit silly, of course they didn’t cram them all into this space because they had an abundance of other options…

You feel like you’ve been sitting in a hot spring for too long, the thick air feels like warm steam coming from the water and your body feels the need to stretch out. You’ve barely been in here for half an hour and it’s already so stuffy and uncomfortable.

Morax’s eyes watch you as you look down to the silent man next to the two of you, his iris flicker from your face down to your hands and the way you clench and then stretch your fingers unconsciously. His voice catches you off guard as you are trying to adjust to the environment. “Let us speak outside.”

You blink up at him as he stands and leaves, you stuff your incense back into the cloth bag across your torso and follow him. The cooler air is immediately a relief, it’s clean and flows right to your lungs uninterrupted. You stand and bask in it for a few seconds before looking around to see where the god went off to… where did he go?

Only the higher centre of the building still stands, the stretches of what were probably barracks have crumbled and leaves little but broken rock and wood sitting on the ground with a few ominous stains licking the bottom of one larger piece of rubble. You avert your gaze from the destruction and spot Morax’s white robe by the end of a high fence, walking to him, you slow your pace as you get closer.

He turns to you and inclines his head for you to follow, you do as asked and fall into step next to him as he rounds the fence. Your hand immediately moves to your nose again–almost as if the simple barrier of wooden fencing had been protecting you from a fouler scent than even the one inside the building, this one strikes you like a stone wall.

The corpses had been covered with sheets… but it hardly did much to cover the stench emanating from them. Coin purses had been laid on their chests already, indicated by the small bump under the sheets, but you had an inkling that there was something missing, something that required your hands.

“They passed during the quake, thankfully we did not lose many… but their bodies were exposed to the scattered ashes until the morning after,” Morax says, facing you and only regarding the dead with a turn of his head. “Both their lingering spirit and body will intertwine with the rotting essence if left to it, possibly creating corrupted beasts or ghosts.”

You’ve only had to cleanse a corpse once… and it was a relatively fresh corpse. You feel sick already and you’re a good three metres away. “I see…”

He turns his head to you, a pinch to his brow. “I know this is… unpleasant. I would not ask it of you if it was not necessary…”

You quickly raise your hands, waving them about. “No, no! It’s my job–it’s what I'm here for, it’s okay!” You’ll complain about it… inwardly… but you’ll still do it.

His expression doesn’t change much, but you see a tinge of… gratefulness? Appreciation? You’re not entirely sure what it is, but the mild softening of his furrowed brow and the small movement of his bottom lip are a noticeable change when his face is so often still as a rock. “I’ll have new clothes brought to you so the smell doesn’t stick to the ones you’re wearing,” he says and walks past you. “I have a matter to attend to, come to me when you have finished.”

Looks like you’ve a task to complete before you can tend to the afflicted. You’re not entirely sure if this should take priority… but it’s likely they want the bodies to be taken back to the capital as soon as possible so they can be buried before they decompose too much. You hope the injured can hold on for a while.

Thankfully, extracting from a corpse is far less of a ‘careful’ operation. Removing miasma that has burrowed itself into a living body causes pain when extracted, but as the corpse is still and not living, you can allow yourself to be a bit rougher. Thankfully you’re not extracting the spirit out of them either, so you can make quick work of it.

After changing into the robes a soldier brought to you–though they’re clearly made for a man much larger than you, so the sleeves droop down far beyond your fingers–you prepare your equipment and get started. Your sleeve almost knocks over your trusted bell and you decide to tie them back, ignoring the chill of the night.

Removing the sheet off of the first body causes the stench to increase tenfold, and exposes you to a gruesome sight. The man had been crushed by something, his head and left shoulder torn off–likely when his body was pulled out from under whatever had crushed him–leaving only stretches of muscle, skin and bones sticking out from the unnervingly flat side where the body usually continues on, the left arm is lying next to his torso, likely severed from the shoulder and chest after they were crushed. You shake your head and look further down the torso to try and not stare at the uncomfortable sight.

The left side of his abdomen and the severed arm are completely white, and ice cold to the touch, similarly to the man from earlier–though he had been alive… you hope. Inky black veins web across the pale skin and near pulse as you poke at them, the skin ripples like water when poked, blood spurting out of the stumped ends and you have to turn your head to try and not puke at the sight. Focus… you’ve done this many times before. Just locate the source of entry and drag it out.

You prod at the squishy body and only glance at it in the corner of your eye… it almost feels like everywhere is the source of the energy! You suppose it makes sense, you had heard it was like dust, and if it scattered all over the body… you’ll have to try and bait it towards one point and drag it from there. You had been asleep as the golden essence had fallen from the sky like snow, so you missed it completely. Thankfully the capital is protected with seals and barriers, so it brushed the dust off and no one in the city was afflicted, most people were asleep anyway.

You don’t like to bait this type of miasma, but it has to be done.

Lighting a single stick of incense should be enough, you’ll have to ask for more to be brought with the next supply cart. It’s not necessary for a cleanse, but it prevents jumpy energy from simply hopping around and possibly entering a new host or vessel to burrow in, or just fleeing out a window–and since you’re out in the open, it can go in any direction. Thankfully the soldier still has his weapon, and it’s clean of the energy. You unsheathe it a bit and press the back of your index finger to it–a place that won’t be used much or be an annoyance when you’ll definitely need to use your hands in the coming days. A thin drop of blood–as well as a burning sting–indicates you’ve cut through the top of your skin and you withdraw your hand. Even a small cut like this is enough.

You take your bell and hold it as you press the wound to the man’s cold skin, your eyes slip closed… and you think hard. The miasma left by dead gods are usually heavy in negative energies and emotions, defeated in an attempt to protect their land, killed by those they trust in a struggle for influence and power, struck down at the end of a long and exhausting battle… it seeks out more negative energy to feed on and grow.

Negative emotions, you dig for what the energy seeks.

It’s always the same sight. Your mind’s eye turns to the same event when you imagine what has brought you distress in the past.

A clap of thunder, rain so heavy it brings you to your knees, dust and grime settle between your fingernails as you dig and push away stone and mud. Your heart thunders in your chest, so loudly you’re not sure whether it beats twice in place of one, or if it’s the constant rhythmic thunder flashing across the sky when you find a hand between the crumbled walls.

The absolute despair and agony it brought once it didn’t move when you wrapped your fingers around hers. How cold the skin was, you tugged and pulled, but the rubble was too heavy, you weren’t strong enough to lift it, nor to pull her out. Your hands shake as you close them around hers and try warm it up, it’s just because of the rain, it’s cold because winter is coming, it’s not because–

You feel a prick of warmth and your eyes snap open, you were too caught up in your head. The dark miasma has gathered around your finger and latched onto the small cut so tightly it raises goosebumps on your entire arm. You shake your hand with the bell in it, and it chimes quietly–but the inky dark tendrils quiver and twitch as if it had been struck, their grasp loosening on the host body.

You close your fist, a streak of black stretching from your finger to the corpse, and pull harshly.

In your haste–and being distracted by the foul stench–you realise you forgot to prepare a jar to trap the miasma inside. You pull your hand further and higher away from the body, but it stubbornly clings to it, a thread connecting your hand to the torso. You pull more, jaw clenching as you cling to the energy and refuse to let it snap back into the corpse. Why is it so stubborn?! You’ve never seen energy like this cling to the body it’s tainting with such stubbornness, your arm trembles with strain, until with a snap; like a tight rope breaking apart that topples your balance as the ‘rope’ snaps back into your raised fist.

Your ass is saved from a harsh blow against the ground as a warm hand grabs your bicep and holds you up, at the same time as six glowing stone pieces lock around the dark energy swirling around your hand. You blink, momentarily disoriented from almost falling and look up to see Morax’s chest barely a cup’s distance away from your face.

You quickly right yourself and nearly hop away, startled by his sudden appearance–weren’t you supposed to go to him later? What a fortunate time for him to appear. “M-my lord…?!” you blurt out, still unsure how to address him.

The cubed rock and ore which strangely resembles a burr puzzle you saw kids try and put together at a festival a few years ago, hovers in the air for a few seconds before drifting into Morax’s open hand, settling there. “Please be more careful, you could have hurt yourself.”

Your neck warms up with embarrassment, this is how you show your cleansing abilities to him? By forgetting–you never forget!–a part of the process and almost falling over like an idiot?? “Ah… I’m sorry–I’m usually far more careful than this, I swear,” you bow your head, as if asking for forgiveness before raising it again. “I… thought you were occupied, did you need something…?”

He’s silent for a moment, as if contemplating how to answer your question. You miss the way his eyes glance down to your hand and then back to your face. “No. I merely… sensed something amiss, so I came to ensure everything was alright.”

“Oh… ah, thank you,” you clasp your hands together and look at the floating cube in his hand. “I can… purify that for you.”

“No need,” he says and the cube lifts into the air, the golden ore in the centre of the edges lights up and it twitches a few times, before it lowers again, now dim. “It’s vanquished. Do you need assistance? I can call for someone to stay close by.”

You shake your head fiercely. “No! Not at all! That was an accident, I promise you–I’m perfectly capable of handling this, please don’t worry about me!”

He seems hesitant to just leave, but doesn’t want to seem like distrusts you either. Morax looks down to the cube in his hand and extends it towards you. The ore lights up again to a dim hue as it floats to your open hands. “Keep it with you. It will react if the energies get out of hand.”

You bow at the waist, still terribly embarrassed and hoping it might hide the heat of your cheeks as he finally turns and leaves. “Thank you! I’ll take good care of it!”

You sigh in relief when you’re finally alone again. You look down at the stone cube in your hands and frown. “... I’ll never get over this,” you mumble to yourself. This definitely will keep you up at night…

Thankfully, the other corpses didn’t give you any trouble–not now that you were expecting this weird, sticky miasma that clung to all of them. Usually, it’s misty and easier to manipulate with your hands, it doesn’t resist and follows gestures easier, but this seems like it’s trying to wrestle you at every turn, and when you finally get hold of it, it decides to stick to you instead with fierce stubbornness.

When the final jar was sealed, you sighed with relief and didn’t linger for long. You put the sheets back over their bodies as they had been before and made sure the mora was touching them and not on top of the large cloth.

Now, to find Morax… this outpost isn’t very large, especially now that there’s really only one ‘place’ to be in.

Finding him was relatively easy, but your energy had been thoroughly drained from tugging back and forth and you were hardly in the state to start extracting from living beings that might thrash or try to kick you away from them… you still feel a phantom sting from that one guy at the ward some time ago that had been very deeply afflicted and kicked you right in the bottom of the sternum.

The room is just as stuffy and uncomfortable as it was when you entered it first, you were starting to become accustomed to the smell… kind of. The smell of the corpses was worse, but this isn’t much of an improvement.

You squat down next to Morax as he’s examining a man with a darkened forehead, it bulges and looks almost soft–as if it would burst if you poked it too harshly. “Any progress?” you say quietly.

“Hm,” he makes a noise of acknowledgement, but doesn’t give you a proper answer. After a while, he lowers his glowing hands and shakes his head. “It’s difficult to say… I must have you perform an extraction, with a specimen outside of the body it will be far easier to examine.”

Hah… you can feel the tug of your tired body, but ignore it the best you can–you’ve been able to do mostly idle work for many days now since the last of the ward patients left, some hard work won’t do you in for once.

One injured person was taken out of the room and placed outside where you would do the cleansing in the case that it will act strangely or lash out when extracted, you prepare everything… and prepare yourself mentally as well, not only are you tired, but you’ll have to do it directly in front of Rex Lapis. You just hope you won’t look like an idiot for the second time today, or third.

It had been the man with the bulging forehead that was brought outside, and you can’t help but wonder if the one with the open stomach was even still alive… you dip your brush into ink and draw a half-moon on each side of the dark bulge on his face, between the gaps, you neatly write down the appropriate characters to seal the energy inside the space of his forehead it inhabits, so it won’t try to escape your grasp.

You clean your hands and get to work.

Thankfully, there’s no need to poke around and try to locate the source… it’s very obvious. You just hope the mass won’t explode and spew pus, blood and other gross liquids on your face after the extraction is done.

Morax stands opposite of you, on the other side of the table that was brought out to lay the man on, he watches your every move like a hawk–he’s probably just curious… or has nothing else to really look at, but it’s making you nervous.

As soon as you finish preparation and place your hand on the bulging mass, you shiver. There’s something swimming inside. You steel yourself and concentrate, then close your fist and pull gently.

It’s like a wet eel, it slips between your fingers thrice before you get a good hold of it, your eyebrows furrowing in both frustration and concentration. “Be calm,” Morax’s voice sounds gently into your ears, he notices your frustration, born both from the slippery energy as well as your tired body aching for rest in this prolonged wrestle. “It’s almost done.”

The simple reassurance was surprisingly effective. You raised your hand slowly and poured every mental and physical energy into pulling the corruption from the man’s head–with a final tug of defiance, the energy is separated from him far earlier than you expected, but you were ready this time and shoved it into a jar before it could wrap its weird, slimy tendrils around your hand…

Just in time for you to hear a strange pop.

And an absolutely foul stench invading your nose as the mass on the man’s forehead opens, the sound of the skin tearing violently and spewing out the liquid inside in a burst akin to a flask that had been sealed and gathered pressure. It wets your robe and lands on your cheek and neck, the white and red fatty liquid drips down and makes you cringe when it touches your collar as you try to swipe it away, but you’re too late.

Quickly hunching down next to the table, you retch and return the early lunch that had mostly digested by now, splattering on the grass and dirtying your shoes. Your knees tremble slightly from the strain the extraction brought and you have to hold onto the table to not fall over.

A hand softly touches your back, the warmth radiating from the palm both welcome and not as you cough with nothing left to puke out. “Did any of it get in your eyes or mouth?” You shake your head. “Good… I apologise, I should have known it would tear with the pressure of the corruption gone… I’ll have your clothes returned to you and you can rest for the night. I will examine what you extracted in the meantime.”

… you’ve definitely earned a good sleep, and a wash. Or three.

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