#radiant souls masterpost | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

les4elliewilliams · 2 months ago

Text

❝SHE’S A MANEATER!❞ – 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.

LOSER!ELLIE ﾒ MEAN!READER

❝OH-OH HERE SHE COMES WATCH OUT, GIRL, SHE’LL CHEW YOU UP!❞

ᝰ.ᐟ ⌞SUMMARY⌝﹕After bumping into you on her first day of college, Ellie spends the entire year captivated by you from a distance. You're everything she could never be—popular, wealthy, and effortlessly alluring, with a perfect, disgustingly rich family to match. Convinced she didn’t stand a chance, Ellie resigns herself to watching from the sidelines. But when her best friend Dina suggests they work at a public pool for the summer, Ellie agrees, hoping to save up some money. What she never expected was to find you there, commanding the space with a magnetic, dangerous charm that pulls her in. Now, Ellie’s summer is about to take a turn she never saw coming, and she’s about to find out just how close she can get to you before it all falls apart.

✶.ᐟ ⌞THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS⌝﹕ approx 10k words⨾ cursing⨾ angst⨾ cheating⨾ reader being a bitch for no reason⨾ 18+ CONTENT (porn with plot)⨾ fingering (𝑒!receiving)⨾ cum eating??⨾ pussy slapping ⨾ thigh riding (r!receiving)⨾ reader is a milf lover⨾ coworker!ellie⨾ dom!reader⨾ fem!reader⨾ player!reader x loser!ellie⨾ jealousy issues⨾ use of names (babygirl, sweetheart, baby, babe, slut/whore, etc...)⨾ lmk if i missed anything!

.ᐟ.ᐟ ⌞AUTHOR´S NOTE⌝﹕ last chapter of part one, finally!! I will start working on the sequel soon (hopefully), I PROMISE there's gonna be a happy ending + an extra drabble/chapter🙄. proofread by @sapphichotmess!!

#.ᐟ ⌞TAGLIST⌝﹕@pick-me-up-im-scared @rew1nds @satellitespinner @boobdrug @ivying @elliewilliamsbelovedwife @mina-281 @hysteriawillnotsuccumb @chxrryvalxntine @bookpagecandlescent @fionaapplelover2010 @andersonslove @macaroni676 @elliesbabygirl @vampcubus @visupremacysstuff @elssaphica @kaykeryyy @nenas19 @rxreaqia @fatbootymuncher @dying-brb @euphoric-rush @intothespidersweb @d1psht

#.ᐟ ⌞CHAPTERS⌝ ↯

˗ˏˋ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ⋆ 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ⋆ 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 ˎˊ˗

palestine masterpost ⋆ read this ⋆ daily clicks

31st of August.

Ellie desperately tried to stay away from you, avoiding you like the plague, but her efforts never lasted long. You were too radiant to ignore, too mesmerizing not to be near, and too addictive to avoid speaking to. She was drawn back to you, just like every time she tried to walk away. It wasn’t just a simple matter of having her wrapped around your finger; she was completely captivated by you in body, mind, and soul. You had a hold on her in a way that felt like possessing a voodoo doll made of her hair and personal trinkets. She was as dependent on you as a flower is on water and the moon is on the sun, although the sun never relied on the moon to shine.

The redhead observed you as you conversed with a local customer at the pool, a middle-aged single mother with sleek black hair and icy blue eyes, the reincarnation of Megan Fox—except that Megan Fox was still alive. Her piercing gaze might have intimidated others, but not you. Instead, you smiled warmly and laughed softly as she spoke, your widest smile on full display each time she said something amusing.

Ellie didn’t think too much of it; after all, you were always overly sweet and nice to clients, everyone but her and the people who worked with you—or for you. She didn’t think too much of it until that woman scribbled something down on a napkin from the box on the counter, right beside her elbow, that comfortably rested on the black marble. The woman handed it to you, and the smile she gave you after was less polite. Was this shit even allowed in here?

Ellie wanted to come at you, yell, and fuss at you about it, but she held back. She knew you would brush her off and act like you weren’t knuckles deep inside her sopping hole last night and like she hadn’t been chanting your name like you were the fucking holy Mary herself. You’d treat her like you usually did in public: like you despised her, so she avoided that.

She stood by the deck, Jesse at her side, both enveloped in a serene silence. Unbeknownst to her, his deep chocolate eyes had been studying her attentively. His gaze followed hers, fixing on you, who appeared to be flirting with a woman twice your age.

Ever since Ellie started working here, she had been behaving strangely, a fact that didn’t escape Dina’s notice. Despite Dina’s efforts to point it out, Jesse claimed he couldn’t quite see what she was talking about. The brunette strongly believed that her best friend was keeping something from them, acting mysteriously and evasively about her whereabouts. Ellie always seemed busy whenever they wanted to hang out, and she would never fully explain where she was or what she was up to.

Jesse nonchalantly dismissed the situation, attributing Ellie’s behavior to her quirks. There was some truth to his comment—Ellie often guarded her feelings like an ancient mummy, whatever she was going through. Yet, as he observed the jealousy creeping over her face like an ominous shadow, her previously soft features hardening, he knew. Her airy scoff confirmed his suspicions, prompting him to address the issue directly, not treading lightly around the matter.

“Is it her that you’re seeing?” the Asian asked abruptly, his words filled with pure curiosity. He spoke in a hushed tone, making sure their conversation remained private. Ellie’s heart sank at his direct question, causing her to freeze as her face lost whatever color it had, turning even paler than usual.

Her first thought was, “Is he going to tell Dina?” and then, “Dina’s gonna kill me,” though the latter was a common affirmation that popped into her mind whenever she messed up somehow. Dina often acted like an overprotective mother every second of the day, always quick to scold and lecture her. Not even Maria did that, and she was the closest thing she had to a mother figure.

As her mind raced with uncertainty, Jesse quickly interjected, seeking to soothe her fears with a reassuring tone, “Not gonna tell anyone, y’know.” he said, his voice soft but resolute, sensing her internal conflict.

She exhaled shakily and murmured a quiet, “Yes.” Her eyes darted away from his, finding solace in the chaotic beauty of the pool filled with kids and families. “But she doesn’t want anyone to know,” she added quickly, her gaze dropping to her lap as she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“Did she tell you why?”

“She’s not ready, she’s not even out yet,” the anxious girl explained with a huff, reluctantly meeting his eyes again. She could already feel his judgment, knew he’d think she was being naive, and that she should end things before it got worse.

“Is she serious about it?” he couldn’t help but retort, a hint of disbelief in his voice. He’d just seen you flirting with another woman moments ago, the memory fresh and irritating.

“It’s... we’re just hooking up,” Ellie revealed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“So it’s not.”

“No, it’s just too early to say. She said she needs time to—” Jesse’s sarcastic scoff cut her off. She gave him a puzzled look, her brows arching in confusion. “What?”

“You’re not that fucking dumb, are you?” he rhetorically asked, his voice quiet and scolding, careful to keep their conversation private.

“What—I’m not being stupid. She needs time. We talked about it last night—I can’t force her to come out when she doesn’t feel ready. It’s not fair to her.” Ellie’s tone grew defensive, a shield against his skepticism. But she knew he was right. This whole hookup thing wasn’t something she even wanted.

“Yeah. How long has she been telling you she needs time?” Jesse shot back quickly, his words like arrows, ready to prove his point.

Ellie stayed quiet for a moment, the weight of his question hanging heavy between them. “‘S not like that,” she finally mumbled.

“What is it like then?” he challenged, not missing a beat. “Look—you do you, man. If you’re happy, I’m happy and all that shit. But she doesn’t exactly have a good reputation. She’s gonna break your heart,” he stated with a frustrating certainty.

“You don’t know that,” she snapped back, her voice laced with desperation.

“Neither do you.” A sarcastic chuckle from her friend broke the tension between them. “I really hope you don’t get hurt in the end,” he concluded, getting up and casually strolling away after a few kids who weren’t wearing their swimming caps, his trustworthy whistle in his hand.

Ellie watched him walk away, a rush of conflicting emotions flooding through her. Anger and doubt churned within her as she turned her gaze back to the pool, the cheerful laughter of the children now fading into the background. Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when you sat down on the white plastic chair beside her. “Hey, Nelly,” you said, your tone cool and composed, maintaining your mean-girl facade, especially in the presence of others. Your mask remained firmly in place, a deliberate refusal to show vulnerability. Despite your determination to be different from your parents, who prioritized outward appearances, you couldn’t help but feel like you were following in their footsteps. The apple did not fall too far from the tree.

“Hey,” Ellie greeted, her usually buoyant tone noticeably absent.

You turned to look at her, your eyebrow raising in a perfect arc as you gazed at her inquisitively. “What’s with the attitude?”

The autumn-haired girl found herself unable to shake off Jesse’s words. They reverberated through her mind, planting seeds of doubt and uncertainty. She desperately wished Jesse had misjudged you; he didn’t know you like she did. How could he possibly pass judgment without truly knowing you? Yet, a rational part of her refused to be silenced, urging her to pay heed to those nagging doubts and not to confuse overthinking with intuition.

Ellie’s words slipped out before she could stop herself, her tone accusatory and colder than she intended. “What’s with that woman who just gave you her number?”

You looked back at her in surprise, and your lips formed an “oh” before you quickly offered a plausible excuse. “Babysitting.”

“Babysitting?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she locked eyes with you, her expression oozing with skepticism. “Since when do you even babysit?”

“It’s always been something I’ve done,” you replied, unfazed by her doubt.

“Sure, like you really need the extra cash,” she quipped, still skeptical.

“I really do. I can’t keep relying on my parents for everything,” you calmly asserted. There was no hint of defensiveness in your voice; you spoke with a sense of certainty, that it made her feel stupid for questioning your commitment, but she didn’t let it show.

“Okay,” she sighed out, her shoulders slumping as she exhaled, feeling the weight lift off her shoulders.

“Are you coming to the beach tonight? There’s going to be a campfire and free drinks,” you asked, propping your elbows on the arms of the plastic chair as you leaned back, smirking in her direction.

“Yeah, gonna see you there?” the freckled girl inquired with a touch of optimism reflected in her expression. The sun beamed down on her, highlighting her green eyes, making them appear even more vibrant and clear.

“Of course, you’re going to see me there.” your smile grew wider as you replied.

And she did see you there, locked in a passionate kiss with some nameless guy on a bench.

Ellie’s heart splintered into thousands of fragments. It felt as if her insides plunged deeper than the Titanic, the weight of her emotions pressing them down. Despite the overwhelming urge to scream and cry, she found herself unable to produce any sound. Her eyes remained dry, failing to well up with the salty tears that typically accompanied emotional pain. The sea wind tousled her auburn hair, leaving a faint, familiar saltiness behind. Her skin was ablaze, and her stomach churned with disgust, threatening to expel its contents.

Everyone had warned her about you, and they had been right all along.

You didn’t give a damn, you never did. Were any of the sweet words you whispered to her even true? Was she just one of many? Ellie’s mind was a whirlwind of endless questions, most of them rooted in self-doubt. She wasn’t good enough for you, she’d never been. She was never going to measure up to your standards, to your expectations. She was never enough. You were flawless, admired, it only made sense that someone like you would never genuinely desire someone like her. Why would you? She wasn’t attractive, wealthy, or widely liked. She was just an unremarkable, tangled mess of poor humor and peculiarities. You, however, were a living Greek god, cruelly playing with her mind, and shamelessly taking more and more of her, each time she gave you everything she had to offer.

It felt as if Cupid himself had conspired against her, allowing her to experience and savor something that would never belong to her. Unbeknownst to her, even something as lovely as a lily, one of the most exquisite blossoms, could conceal danger beneath its pink velvety petals. She was like a curious cat, irresistibly drawn to the intrigue and allure of the forbidden flower, unaware of its poisonous nature.

3rd of September.

The following days were plagued with ignored phone calls and messages left on read. Ellie had given you the cold shoulder; her silent treatment was supposed to be a form of punishment, but it didn’t last long.

You explained everything, saying it was a misunderstanding, revealing that the guy named Jason had kissed you without your consent and that you had forcefully pushed him away. Ellie left hastily, missing the part where you had angrily stormed off after rejecting his advances.

The auburnette felt a wave of reassurance, knowing that she was the only one for you, that your eyes were solely for her. She trusted you wholeheartedly.

And you were back in her life, in her house, in her bed, between her thighs.

Your spit drenched her aching core, cascading over her engorged clit, the pink throbbing bud begging for your attention. The sight of her slick, swollen folds will never stop driving you crazy. Put on display for your eyes only, as sweet as the ripest fruit. Her pussy quivered beneath your gaze, and a sharp slap to her wet cunt echoed through the room, making her whimper, her hips stuttering and jerking, eyes flashing open to meet yours. “Look at this pussy… so fucking messy, baby,” you purred, a wicked grin curling at the corners of your lips. The look in your eyes was one of an insatiable beast, ready to take away from her once again.

“Stop fuckin’ teasing me,” Ellie whined, her hips bucking frantically against the warm palm nestled on her throbbing core. Her breath hitched as your thumb danced with her arousal, teasing her sensitive clit. “Can’t take it anymore,” she choked out. Desperation began to etch itself into her captivating features as her fluffy, scarred brows contracted together. This subtle expression only seemed to heighten her already striking appearance, adding a sense of vulnerability that made your head spin.

“Hm... Quit acting like a brat and hold still for me,” you spat, your gaze locked onto hers, “Beg for it, and I might just give it to you.”

Ellie’s heart hammered in her chest at your authoritative tone, her body responding instinctively to your dominance. A shiver coursed through her spine, and a flush of heat spread across her cheeks. She bit her lip, trying to hold still and control the urge to squirm under your touch, her breathing growing shallow with anticipation and need.

Her voice cracked as she begged, “Please.” One of her hands reached out, desperate to grab your free hand. But the freckled girl’s weak pleas met deaf ears; it wasn’t enough for you, she could do better. Her moss-green eyes pleaded with you as she watched your thumb trace small circles on her hip, keeping her in place.

Your lips brushed against the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, teasing her mercilessly, your touch intentionally calculated to drive her wild. You knew exactly how to play your cards right, how to play her like a finely tuned instrument, and it amused you how easy it was to reduce her to a quivering, whiny mess. But you relished in her simplicity, in how the smallest actions could ignite such a strong reaction from her.

“Please,” Ellie’s breaths came in small, shuddered gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each inhale and exhale. Her mind was filled with nothing but you and how you made her feel. “Please, please, I missed you.” Her words’ raspy, vulnerable tone was like music to your ears, pleasing your ego at the knowledge that she depended on you, that she was putty in your hands. Her vulnerability only highlighted how completely she was under your control, and the feeling was flattering and exhilarating. The auburnette submitted to you so easily, without questioning it or fighting back; it was cute, really. She let you play with her body however, whenever, and wherever you liked.

“Missed me, yeah?” You smirked at her, your voice dripping with confidence as you cooed softly.

Ellie didn’t even need to confirm it to you. You could see how much she had missed you, how much she had craved your touch and sweet lies. The freckled girl melted in your arms the second you drove to her house after hours of begging to see you. She needed to see you, needed to feel you, kiss you, touch you. Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze met yours, your eagerness for her evident in every line and muscle of your body. She felt wanted, desired, and important whenever she was in your presence, and the feeling was addictive. Perhaps that was what she loved the most about being with you—the feeling of being so completely desired, so utterly needed. She found herself questioning if anyone had ever made her feel this way before. Certainly not her ex-girlfriends (or situationships); they paled in comparison to how you made her feel. You had the ability to make her feel like a teenager in love for the first time again, like a virgin exploring uncharted territory.

“Couldn’t get off without your help,” Ellie’s voice was soft and vulnerable as she confessed her weakness for you, the pout on her face almost making your heart lurch.

“Such a fucking needy slut,” You chuckled dryly, your eyes focused intently on her, drinking in her every reaction as if she was the most fascinating thing you’d ever seen. She was sprawled out before you, all spread out and vulnerable, her core glistening with arousal and your spit, begging for your touch, yet not giving her what she craved the most.

“Please, I need you.” She pleaded one last time, her voice soft and desperate, her body trembling as your thumb began to tease her aching bud. A stifled moan escaped her lips as the pleasure washed over her, causing her to gasp in response.

“You all good up there?” You taunted her, struggling to contain a small chuckle at her frustration. Her freckled face was flushed, her cheeks tinted with a blush that betrayed her embarrassment. You had barely even touched her, and yet she was already losing her shit, her body responding eagerly to your every caress.

“Yeah, just…” The auburnette’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, trying with all her might to hold back the lewd noises that threatened to escape.

“Just?” you prompted, your fingers continuing to move over her sensitive folds, feeling her slickness. You began to rub at her entrance, making her squirm and moan; she had been craving your touch and attention so much that it almost made her insane. “Fuck, look at you, baby girl.” you husked under your breath. “So needy for me.” It was downright lewd how drenched Ellie was for you, her pink pussy glistened with pearly precum, making your mouth water at the sight. It was like homemade chocolate chip cookies, the kind that could make anyone salivate, especially when they were still warm and the aroma of sweetness filled the air. She had the same exact effect on you. She tasted exquisite, and you just couldn't get enough, always craving more of her, just like she craved more of you.

Ellie’s breath hitched as your middle finger teased her entrance, moving painfully slow. She could tell you were doing it on purpose. You were never known for your patience, but you were taking your sweet time with her, making her feel every little movement. The sensations were overwhelming, and she knew you were doing it intentionally to drive her crazy. “M-more… nghh… fuck.” Her back arched in response, her hand gripping yours tightly as she desperately tried to push her hips further down onto your fingers.

Your eyes were glued to her starved cunt and the way your finger disappeared into her so easily, swallowing it shamelessly; her warm walls pulsated around your digit, and tiny, little puffs of breath escaped her lips as she struggled to hold herself together. Every breath she took strained with the effort to keep herself composed, her face a beautiful contradiction of desire and restraint.

“You weren’t lying, huh? You really did miss me.” You chuckled, amused, the circles on her clit growing faster as your finger moved slowly in and out of her, maintaining a steady, teasing rhythm.

“I wasn’t,” Ellie said breathlessly, as if a powerful force had drained all the breath away from her.

You smirked at her confirmation; she depended on you as much as you depended on every little sound she let out for you, urging you to go on. It was what replayed in your head whenever you finger-fucked your own needy hole, clenching her name around your fingers. You had missed her so much. You missed the feeling of her cunt spasming around your fingers, the high-pitched and persistent mewls that came with her impending orgasm, the arch of her back, her abdomen tensing and contracting whenever you fucked her way too fast for her to keep up.

“What about the nudes I sent you, hm?” you questioned, your voice as soft as cotton, caressing all her senses like some melody that haunted her every dream.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps, each one a plea, a prayer for more. The sight of the freckled girl—so vulnerable, so open—stirred something primal within you. You watched how her body responded to your touch, how her skin flushed and her muscles tensed under your fingertips. The slick heat of her, the way she pulsated around your finger, was intoxicating.

Ellie remembered the late nights, alone in her bed, your photos lighting up her screen. The way she’d trace the curves of your body with her eyes, imagining her hands in their place. The way she’d whisper your name, a litany of desire, as she plunged her fingers into her own wet heat, pretending it was you. But even then, it wasn’t enough.

Those fantasies paled in comparison to reality.

“Fucking slut… did you touch yourself thinking of me?” you murmured, your voice a low purr that sent shivers down her spine. “Did you imagine my fingers inside you, like this?”

Her response was a choked moan, her hips rocking against your hand, seeking more. You pressed a kiss to her thigh, your breath hot against her skin, savoring the way she writhed under your touch.

She gasped as you added another finger, complying with her silent request for more. “Needed m- ahhh… more than—” words failed her as you began to pump them in and out of her faster, her legs twitching each time you brushed that spongy spot inside her just to make her little brain go blank. What a brainless fucking whore.

“Than what? Finish your sentence, sweetheart. What do you need from me?” Your voice was a perfect and deadly mix of sultriness and honey sweetness.

“Needed you to fuck me,” Ellie’s voice turned whiny and high-pitched, sounding like she was about to cry. She sighed complacently when you slammed your fingers deeper inside her in response. She had truly been trying to get off to your pictures, your tits out of your black lacy bra for her to see, but it wasn’t enough. All she could think about was the aching absence of your touch and how desperately she longed to lay her dirty hands on your sacred body. It hit her then that she was utterly ruined, unable to get off without your assistance anymore; you had thoroughly spoiled her and her body, and her mind had been reprogrammed to crave you for every desire, however big or small.

“Like this, yeah?” A frenetic nod was all you got in return. Your glistening fingers continued their relentless movements, and your thumb flicked her puffy clit.

Each pump drew a curse from her. Her breaths were shallow gasps punctuated by moans that seemed to come from the depths of her soul. You could feel her inner walls contracting around your fingers, her slick heat enveloping you in a way that made your own core ache.

“Fuck… close?” Her response was a breathless sob, freckled body arching off the bed as her orgasm built, a storm gathering strength. You could see it in the way her muscles tensed, the way her breaths came faster, more erratic.

“Please,” she begged, barely more than a breathy whisper. “Please, I need—”

“I know, baby. I know.” Your thumb circled her clit with a newfound intensity, your fingers curling inside her just right, hitting her g-spot with precision. “Come for me.”

The auburnette’s eyelids fluttered shut and her head fell back into the soft embrace of her light blue pillow. You marveled at the expression of blissful ecstasy dancing across her face, watching her lips form incoherent words that echoed through the room. With a final, shuddering cry, she came apart, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. Her inner walls pulsed around your fingers, her juices coating your hand as you worked her through it, drawing out every last bit of pleasure, making every moment last longer, leaving her wholly spent and utterly satiated.

When all her nectar coated your fingers, you gently withdrew your digits, eager to taste her. The taste was rather divine, like nothing you had ever tasted, a taste uniquely hers. Something you couldn’t quite find anywhere else. “You taste delicious,” you commented with a sly smile.

Ellie was winded and her face glistening with a sheen of sweat, dilated pupils fixing on yours as she tried to catch breath, her parted lips letting puffs of air in and out, unevenly. “Do I?”

“Hmm-hmm,” you hummed, crawling on top of her and settling into her lap. She lazily wrapped her arms around your waist, her damp, freckled back sticking against the headboard as she sat up slightly. The soft sheets rustled beneath you, adding to the moment’s intimacy.

Your eyes locked, an intense connection sparking between you. Ellie’s gaze seemed to drown in your irises, captivated by every little sparkle, every shade and discolored spot. A stupidly soft smile spread across her face, as if she were staring at the most precious thing in her life. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this shared bubble of affection.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that?” Her voice was like a gentle whisper, with a hint of raspiness as she delicately tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. Her touch sent a shiver down your spine.

You hummed at her words, a playful smirk curling your lips. “Yeah, I get that quite a lot.”

The auburnette scoffed in mock disbelief, her brows arching dramatically. “Oh really? Who dared to compliment my girl, hm?” Feigning jealousy, she pulled you closer by your waist. “Gonna have to beat them up,” she muttered sarcastically under her breath, her tone light and teasing.

You couldn’t help but giggle softly, the sound mingling with the moment’s warmth. Ellie’s playful protectiveness only made your heart swell more, and you leaned in, your foreheads touching.

She pulled you flush against her, your bare chest sticking to hers, the sweat covering her body almost acting as a glue binding you together. Her face nestled into the crook of your neck, deeply inhaling your scent as she closed her eyes, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your skin.

“Hmm… what’re you doing?” you whispered, melting into her touch.

“Tryna make you feel good—can’t I make my favorite girl feel good?” Her voice was a hushed murmur against your neck, a blend of warmth and affection. A small, breathy laugh was all you could manage in response, tilting your head slightly to give her better access. Her hands wandered up and down your sides, leaving a tingling path in their wake.

“You sure your dad won’t be home anytime soon?” you asked, a hint of nervousness lacing your voice as you tried to pull away. Each time you leaned back, she’d draw you closer, unwilling to let go.

“He won’t be until tomorrow,” she muttered between the kisses she peppered along your neck, “Relax and let me take care of you.” Her lips slowly trailed up your jaw, finally capturing yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, pouring all her feelings into it. Her hands pulled you close with a hunger that spoke of a desire to absorb you, to make you a part of her very being.

Your eyes fluttered shut, arms wrapping around her neck as you lost yourselves in the kiss.

One of your hands found its way to her little bun, fingers playing and gently tugging at it. The kiss was slow and tender, a stark contrast to the usual fervor you shared. It felt as if the world around you had shifted, the atmosphere turning more intimate, echoing the same familiar yet foreign sensation that had enveloped you that afternoon in the shower.

A moan reverberated against the freckled girl’s lips, resonating like a tender symphony, compelling her to savor its melody, to capture it and make it her own. Yet, an insatiable yearning gnawed at her core, craving something deeper, something beyond the mere physical.

When you parted, breathless and hearts pounding in synchrony, the connection between your gazes transformed the moment into an eternal tableau.

“Will you let me take control this time?” Ellie mumbled, her voice soft as silk, her words a delicate caress that brushed against your senses like the first light of dawn. A smile played on her perfect, heart-shaped lips, a subtle curve that promised both mischief and tenderness.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re a pillow princess,” you teased, a smirk tugging at your mouth, the playful jab rolling off your tongue with ease.

Ellie’s eyes sparkled with amusement, softly gasping as if you’d just said the most outrageous thing. "I am not!" she protested, her jaw dropping in a show of mock indignation, though the laughter in her eyes gave her away.

“Are so,” you shot back, not missing a beat.

She shook her head, a pout forming as she defended herself, her voice laced with a mix of defiance and a touch of longing. “You never let me take control,” she countered, eyebrows arching as she tried to make her point.

“As if you’ve ever tried,” you quipped, your smirk widening, knowing exactly how to push her buttons.

“I did try, you just never let me,” she insisted, her tone soft yet pointed, like she was stating an undeniable truth. “You always push me down and do whatever,” she added, her words tinged with just the right amount of accusation.

“Maybe you didn’t try hard enough,” you challenged, the playful edge in your voice unmistakable as the banter continued to flow between you, each word filled with barely contained desire.

Her brows shot up, eyes gleaming with the thrill of the challenge. “Oh, is that so?” Ellie smirked, accepting the unspoken dare. Without missing a beat, she shifted you onto her thigh, her hands firm but gentle as she guided you, ensuring that her thigh was perfectly placed between your own.

“Is that it? You want me to ride your thigh?” you chuckled, a playful glint in your eyes as the absurdity of the situation hit you, making you bite back a laugh.

“C’mon, cowgirl, show me your moves,” she teased, her tone lighthearted, yet there was an undeniable heat beneath her words. Her hands guided your hips, encouraging you to move against her, the friction deliciously teasing, her comical words pulling a soft laugh from you.

“Cowgirl?” you echoed, amusement threading through your voice as your hands found their place on her shoulders for balance. Slowly, you began to move, a back-and-forth rhythm building, her toned thigh pressing against your most sensitive spot.

“Well, I don’t have a strap yet, so…” the redhead offered with a playful shrug, her nonchalance almost comical in its delivery.

“Yet?” you repeated, your eyebrow arching as curiosity piqued, the simple word holding a world of possibilities.

“Mhm, yet,” she confirmed with a sly smile, her hands tightening on your hip bones, pressing you down onto her thigh with just the right amount of pressure. The heat of her skin against your wetness sent a shiver up your spine, her own breath hitching at the intimate contact.

That’s why she never took control—because, as much as she wanted to, you made her weak in the knees, her heart race, and her breath catch in her throat.

As you rocked against her, a muffled whimper escaped your lips, a sound she drank in like the sweetest melody, and for a moment, the room was filled with nothing but your breathless sighs, your shared laughter, and the electric tension between you, growing hotter with every passing second.

“Does it feel good, yeah?” Ellie whispered, her face so close to yours that your breaths mingled, a shared warmth in the small space between you.

“Yeah, you feel good,” you murmured back, her green eyes utterly captivated by the rhythm of your hips as they rolled against her. You didn’t need her to guide you, every movement was instinctual, as natural as breathing. Her breath caught in her throat, almost as if she were the one trying to get off on your thigh, mesmerized by the glistening trail you left behind.

“Fuck, look at that,” she breathed out, her voice thick with awe and desire.

Immaculate mewls spilled from your lips as her hands tightened on your hips, urging you to move faster, her fingers digging into your skin like she never wanted to let you go. “Just like that… atta girl,” the red-brown-haired girl encouraged, her words a soothing balm that only stoked the fire burning in your belly.

You leaned into her, your breasts pressing against her chest, your face nuzzling into the crook of her neck, seeking her out like a lifeline. Ellie responded in kind, her lips finding the beauty marks on your shoulders, kissing them as if tracing an invisible constellation only she could see. Your breathy moans, warm and desperate, hit the back of her neck, sending shivers cascading down her spine, weakening her resolve with each shaky exhale.

“You feel so good,” you purred in her ear, your voice sweet yet intoxicating, like honey laced with something dangerous. Your breath tickled that sensitive spot behind her ear, goosebumps erupting on her skin as butterflies danced wildly in her stomach. Feeling your heat seep into her, feeling you so close, so alive against her—she knew she’d never get enough of you.

“So does your pussy... all wet for me,” she rasped out, pulling you even closer, as if trying to merge your bodies into one. Your ragged breathing was like music to her ears, each pant and whimper a testament to how perfectly she was taking care of you. You continued to grind against her thigh, the tension in your lower abdomen coiling tighter with each roll of your hips, your clit moving in a maddening rhythm that made you whimper against her freckled skin.

“Fuck…” you breathed out, the word slipping from your lips like a prayer. “All wet for you,” you echoed absentmindedly, the urgency in your movements growing, driven by the mounting pressure, each second pulling you closer to the edge. Your fingers tangled in her red hair, tightening as your eyes fluttered shut, your breaths growing more erratic.

Watching you ride her like this was the hottest thing Ellie had ever seen. It made her pulse quicken and her thoughts spiral into fantasies—fantasies of you riding her strap instead, making you tremble like a leaf, scream her name in ecstasy. She wondered if your sinful moans and cries would haunt her dreams every night; it seemed like a plausible fate.

“Mine… alllll mine,” she murmured in your ear, her hands tracing your sides with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the moment, holding you as if you were something precious and fragile, something that could shatter at any moment.

Your soft gasps were like a tantalizing torture, making her sage-hued eyes roll back in bliss. You were so addictive, and she was like an addict, desperate for every sound, every breath you gave her. “Hmm, yeah,” you whispered breathlessly back, your voice mindless yet so full of emotion, causing her heart to flip and twist in ways she never thought possible.

Ellie gently cupped your chin, turning your face toward hers, never once stopping the hypnotic roll of your hips. Her thumb pressed lightly against your chin, holding you there, your eyes locked onto hers, sharing a silent conversation only the two of you could understand.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” she husked, her words like a spell, and you were powerless against them. Your gaze fell to her lips, mesmerized by the way they formed each tender word. She leaned in, kissing you softly but with a passion that ignited every nerve in your body. It was strange and new, yet it felt like something that was always meant to happen.

Her freckled arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, and your arms looped around her neck, holding her as if letting go would mean losing everything. Your hips never stopped moving, the rhythm growing more frantic, your ragged breaths mingling, creating an orchestral piece of pure, unfiltered desire.

And then, the tension inside you snapped, sending shockwaves through your body. It was an explosion, not just of pleasure, but of everything Ellie had tried to keep buried, every emotion you had stirred up in her. You pulled away from the kiss, gasping for air, both from the intensity of your climax and the kiss that had stolen your breath away. Your damp foreheads pressed together, her eyes boring into yours, one of her hands trailing over your body, touching you with a familiarity that sent shivers down your spine.

“Fuck, Ellie…” Your voice cracked and trembled, a raw, visceral expression of the overwhelming pleasure that had just consumed you.

“I love you.” Three words, so simple and yet so difficult to say out loud. Ellie hadn’t realized she’d let them slip out until your movements halted, a look of confusion veiling your face.

The sound of heavy breathing—the aftereffects of your activity—filled the room. You were still trying to recover, your body still trembling with euphoria, and the words had become lost in the maelstrom of the intense orgasm. Ellie’s heart felt like a wild animal, a gazelle on the plains of the Serengeti, drumming relentlessly against her ribcage as she waited for your response, anxiously anticipating what you would say next, the tension in the air thick like the humidity in a dense rainforest.

“What?” You asked the question in a meek, quiet voice, your breathing harsh and labored. It was as if life had drained from your face, leaving only a shell of shock and disbelief behind.

There was absolute silence in the air, everything frozen in that moment. Ellie couldn’t even hear her heartbeat; it felt like time had come to a standstill. Everything seemed to move either unbearably slowly or excruciatingly fast, leaving her overwhelmed and out of control.

“Uh… I—” Ellie’s words stumbled and stuck in her throat as she tried to repeat the three simple words again. She could feel a palpable shift in the air around you, a barrier going up between you despite your physical closeness.

For a brief moment, vulnerability flickered across your face, your eyes bare and exposed to her gaze, as though you had let your guard down and allowed her to see through you. But the mask quickly returned, your features hardening once more. You slowly withdrew from her thigh, sitting beside her instead, exhaling deeply, a look of disbelief etched on your face. The cinnamon-haired girl watched as your lips parted and your eyelids fluttered shut, knowing that you were trying to make sense of her confession and formulate a response. She held her breath, hoping you would tell her that you felt the same, that you longed for a serious relationship and were ready to take that next step together. But the words that slipped out of your mouth were the opposite of what she was expecting, leaving her heart sinking in her chest.

“I can’t.” Your head shook slightly, a nonverbal “no” that sent a shiver down Ellie’s spine. Her heart plummeted, as though it had leaped off the edge of a towering cliff only to smash into a million pieces upon impact. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and the air was knocked from her lungs as the reality of your rejection sank in.

“Can’t what?” Her voice sounded hoarse and strained as she somehow managed to speak, her forest-green eyes clouded with the beginnings of tears as she fixated on your bare back, watching with trepidation as you quickly and almost frantically dressed, one piece of clothing after another being pulled on.

Your body momentarily froze as you searched your mind for the right words, an explanation to fill the terrible silence. But you came up empty, your mind consumed by a rising panic, numbing your thoughts and leaving you speechless. You spoke in a cold, sharp voice, your back still turned towards her, “Do this.” The air between you was heavy with tension and despair, your emotional state written clearly on your face, even if she couldn't see it directly.

“Wha- I... but…” Ellie struggled to articulate her thoughts, her mind grappling with conflicting emotions and confusion. Each attempt to form a coherent question or sentence ended in a frustrating tangle of words. The powerful connection that had enveloped her just moments before had vanished, leaving her bewildered and lost in its absence. How was a shift like that possible? Did you not feel it too?

“I don’t understand,” Her voice quivered and cracked as she forced the words out, her body rigid and her muscles tense as she fought to keep the tears at bay. She knew she couldn’t show any vulnerability in front of you, couldn’t let you see how much this was hurting her. Maybe it was just fear getting in the way, maybe there was still a chance for her to sway your decision by talking it out, to make you change your mind. The freckled girl couldn’t shake the feeling that she was trapped in a surreal nightmare, as if none of this was real. She had just bared her soul to you, trusted you with her innermost thoughts and feelings—things she had never shared with anyone else—and now she was consumed by a sense of violation, as if she had exposed too much of herself and in doing so, made herself vulnerable and annoying. She felt disgusted with herself, like she had crossed a line and done something wrong, leaving an acrid taste in her mouth.

“It can’t work,” Your voice was calm, detached, and filled with distance. The redhead watched as you pulled on your shirt, your gaze fixed on the wall of her room, where wrinkled space posters hung. Your composure was icy and uncaring, as if you had been waiting impatiently for the right moment to destroy the fragile bubble of illusion she had constructed with your lies.

Her eyes roamed your face, searching desperately for a trace of the affection she had felt before, but all she saw was an emotionless mask. Her mind whirled, trying to make sense of the abrupt shift in your demeanor. Every ounce of her being longed to reach out and pull you back, to force you to see what you were throwing away. But she was paralyzed, rooted in place by the weight of your words. She had bared her soul to you, and now she was left exposed, raw, and broken.

The silence in the room thickened, growing heavy and oppressive like a massive storm cloud preparing to let loose. It was a stifling stillness, pressing down on both of you, forcing the air from your lungs and leaving each breath shallow, each word unspoken, lost in the thick atmosphere. Ellie’s forest-green, glassy eyes flicked to you, a desperate pleading in her gaze, like a sailor stranded at sea hoping to spot a flicker of a distant lighthouse, a guide through the dark waters of her impeding breakdown. But your gaze remained distant, fixed on a horizon only you could see, your movements deliberate, devoid of the tenderness that once made her believe in the magic between you.

“…Why?” Her voice was delicate and fragile, barely audible above a whisper. It trembled like a leaf in the wind, “Why can’t it work? We’re so good together. I thought—”

“Oh, please.” The venom in your voice lashed out, sharp and biting, each word dripping with contempt. “Don’t act like you don’t know. This was never supposed to be anything serious. You should have known better.” The words left your lips with a hollow ring, the warmth that the auburnette once craved in your voice now frozen over, an icy detachment that chilled her to the bone.

Tears gathered and spilled over in her eyes, creating a blurry haze that distorted the world around her and your form. The room seemed to whirl before her as her heart crumbled under the burden of your apathy. She struggled to comprehend how you could be so careless. “But-” Her voice faltered, a delicate whisper that fractured under the pressure of the painful reality she found herself grappling with. You had ensnared her like a tarantula, trapping her in an intricate web of deceit and manipulation from which there seemed to be no escape.

You sighed, the sound heavy with impatience, rolling your eyes as if the sound of her heart breaking was nothing more than an inconvenience. “God, Ellie, do you really not get it? It was just sex. Fun while it lasted, but nothing more. I can’t believe you got so attached.” Your words were sharp like swords, each one slicing through the fragile, translucent dreams she had so painstakingly woven around you, leaving deep, bleeding gashes in the delicate fabric of her hopes and illusions. She had been so stupid. “Just a summer fling, an experiment,” You added casually, your tone flat and uncaring.

Ellie’s heart crumbled further, the sharp edges of your words cutting deeper than she ever thought possible. Each syllable felt like salt combined with the strongest alcohol ever on an open wound, the reality of your apathy sinking in. “You don’t mean that,” She pleaded with you, her words carrying the weight of desperate hope, as if grasping onto a rope that could keep her from drowning in the harsh reality. “We were so good together. I felt it. I know you did, too.”

Your lips curled into a sneer, a cruel twist that mocked her naivety. “You really are naive, aren’t you? There was never anything between us, Ellie. I was just bored, and you were convenient,” you scoffed, the derision in your voice felt like a kick in her stomach, the emotional pain becoming physical. “And easy, you were so easy… and so fucking gullible.” The smirk that followed was a bitter slash across her soul, a cruel reminder of how carelessly you had toyed with her emotions. Of how carelessly you had toyed with plenty of people before her. This was a mere game to you, and you couldn’t give two fucks of all the broken pieces you always left behind.

How could someone so incredibly beautiful and captivating exude such emptiness within?

Salty tears streamed down her freckled cheeks, her chest tightening with a tumultuous mix of heartbreak and disbelief. The weight of your betrayal felt like a ton of bricks, crushing the hope she had clung to so desperately. You had never been any different from what the others claimed. “But I love you,” she repeated, her voice cracking under the strain of her agony. “Does that mean anything to you?”

You laughed, a sound lacking any warmth or joy, more like the cold echo of a cavernous emptiness inside you. “Honestly? No, it doesn’t. Did you think this was going to turn into some grand romance? Come on, grow up.” It shocked the auburnette how you could effortlessly shift from being warm and kind to completely cold and unsympathetic. It was like watching you switch personalities as easily as changing costumes in a theater, all to your convenience. Adapting and shapeshifting to your liking. “Love doesn’t exist. It’s just a fairytale for people who can’t handle reality.”

Ellie shook her head as if trying to shake off the unfiltered reality you were laying before her, throwing at her in such a callous manner that it left her breathless. Tears cascaded down like a relentless downpour, drenching the delicate, freckled canvas of her flushed cheeks. She held on desperately to the fading remnants of what she believed to be true, “I—I thought we had something real,” She was barely whispering, her voice fragile and on the verge of completely breaking down. Her bottom lip quivered, and that pouty expression on her face tugged at your heartstrings, making it hard to go through with this. But you knew it was something you had to do. It was necessary.

“You thought wrong,” you said with a dismissive wave of your hand, as if casting aside a trivial matter. “And if you had any sense, you’d have figured that out by now. Get real. I never promised you anything beyond what we had.”

Ellie stood up, her legs trembling as she tried to steady herself against the emotional hurricane tearing through her. “I trusted you. I opened up to you. And now you’re just discarding me like I’m nothing?”

You nonchalantly lifted your shoulders in a dismissive gesture, causing her stomach to clench as if the bond you once shared was now as inconsequential as a discarded piece of trash carried away by the wind. “I didn’t ask you to fall for me.”

She stared at you, her eyes desperately searching yours for any trace of the person she thought she had come to understand, but you weren’t there. “I thought you were different.”

“Well, I’m not. I never claimed to be something I’m not.” Your heartrending words landed the critical strike, causing her to lock away her pain deep within. It festered there, leaving behind deep, ugly scars. She wondered if she would ever be able to heal from the emotional wounds you inflicted. Not even when she broke up with her ex-girlfriend, Cat, did she feel this way.

“You know what?” Ellie’s voice quivered with raw emotion, yet remained steadfast and resolute. The ache in her heart was gradually being consumed by a smoldering, intense anger, “You’re right. I should have seen this coming. But don’t you dare pretend like you didn’t play a part in this. You let me believe something that wasn’t real.” Her voice quivered with emotion, the barely contained anger struggling to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to engulf her beautiful moss-colored eyes once more. “You said you needed time, that eventually, you’d feel ready to…” She halted mid-sentence, realization sinking in. The promises she had once clung to, the words you had whispered in sweet moments of closeness and intimacy, all of it was nothing but a frail illusion you had woven around her to shield her from the bitter and ugly truth. You had never been genuine, always sidestepping, always evading her attempts at sincere connection.

“I never said that,” you stated in a chilly, detached manner, completely lacking any trace of the warmth typically associated with the girl she was infatuated with. It seemed absurd to her. After all, it was still you, but you were revealing your true self. This was the same true self that everyone had cautioned her about, the central figure in all the rumors she had heard. They weren’t falsehoods. They were all painfully real. It was a shame that she was only realizing this now, after falling for your ass.

“Don’t you dare pull that shit on me,” The auburnette growled, her finger pointed at you in an accusatory manner, and she struggled to mask the hurt that was tearing her apart piece by piece.

You averted your gaze, unwilling to meet her eyes any longer; you knew that her words held the truth. You had led her on, selfishly used her to fulfill your own needs and desires, without a care in the world for the trauma and pain you’d leave in her. But deep down, beneath the cold facade you maintained, you couldn’t deny that this moment was tearing you apart as well. Even though you tried to fool yourself, to convince yourself that you didn’t care about her at all, you knew in your heart that it was a lie. You couldn’t ignore the sharp pang of guilt and regret that tugged at your chest like a persistent child pleading for attention. Your heart clamored for acknowledgment, drowning out the rational thoughts, urging you to stay and face the situation rather than retreat like a coward. It swore that things would be different this time, that she could be trusted. But you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it.

“Whatever. I’m done here.” You walked to the door, pausing for a fleeting moment. Turning back to her, your eyes seemed empty. Your voice sounded almost mechanical, having become accustomed to this repetitive cycle, trapped in an endless loop. You found someone new, they became attached, and just as you started to feel something, you would withdraw. “Don’t call me. Don’t text me. We’re done here.”

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as your words sank in. The tears the auburnette had been holding back spilled over, but she forced herself to stand tall, her voice trembling as she struggled to keep herself composed. “Trust me, I won’t. I don’t ever want to see you again,” she promised, trying to sound firm and unaffected, but both of you knew it was far from the truth. She longed to run after you, to plead for you to stay, to not leave her, but she refused to give you the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable and in desperate need of you. You had already seen enough of her; she had already made herself look like a fool yet that didn’t stop you from stomping on her fragile heart.

“Good.”

And with that, you were gone, leaving behind only the ghost of what could have been, and the shattered pieces of her heart, leaving her alone with the echo of her own heartbreak. The door clicked shut behind you, the sound reverberating through the silence.

Ellie collapsed onto the bed, clutching a fluffy pillow to her chest, tears cascading down her face. The room seemed to chill, the absence of your presence amplifying the feeling of loneliness. She buried her face in the softness of the pillow, her tears leaving damp patches on the fabric. It was as if a part of her had been forcibly wrenched away, leaving a raw, throbbing emptiness that felt impossible to soothe. She clutched at her chest, the emotional anguish translating into a physical ache. Breathing became a struggle as her chest tightened, making it hard to draw in a full breath.

Hours passed in a haze of anguish and despair, her tears eventually tapering off, leaving her feeling empty and exhausted. She lay there, fixating on the stars plastered on her ceiling. The weight of your absence felt like the entire solar system had collapsed upon her, crushing her under the immensity of her grief and sorrow. She was pinned down, each star on her ceiling twinkling mercilessly, mocking her pain with their cheap radiant light.

She reached for her phone, her fingers quivering with a mixture of longing and pain as she typed out a message she knew she could never send: “I miss you already.”

Each keystroke felt like a betrayal of her own heart, an act of masochism as the words coalesced on the screen. The message lingered on the screen, an undelivered declaration of heartbreak, a painful confession trapped within the confines of a glowing screen.

She loathed herself for her own weakness, her own vulnerability towards you. She desperately craved a person who didn’t have the slightest care in the world for her, someone who could so easily discard her without a second thought. She could almost hear Dina’s voice in her head, scolding her for being so fucking stupid and naive, telling her to get her shit together and forget about you altogether—maybe after suggesting to burn your whole house down. But her heart ached with a yearning that couldn’t be so easily dismissed, leaving her feeling lost, pathetic, and wholly powerless. She knew deep down that if you came back she’d be welcoming you with open arms, like none of this had happened.

The words etched on the screen seemed to sneer at her, a cruel reminder of her impotence. She couldn’t change your mind and most importantly… she couldn’t change you.

With a trembling hand, she erased the message, then tossed the phone aside, curling up into a tight ball on the bed. Exhaustion eventually took over, pulling her into a restless sleep. But even in her dreams, she was haunted by you, a phantom pain that followed her even in the realm of sleep, leaving her tormented and unable to truly escape reality.

The next morning, the sun beamed through the blinds, slicing through the room like a laser, bright and unforgiving. Ellie dragged herself upright in bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion bearing down on her like a heavy blanket. Every part of her felt burdened, as if the weariness had seeped into her bones, settling there as a constant reminder of the emptiness that had taken root in her heart. You had completely destroyed her and she wished she could bring herself to hate you for it, but she couldn’t; no matter how hard she tried.

She moved slowly, each action a deliberate fight against the numbness that threatened to overtake her. Getting dressed felt like going through the motions of a life she no longer recognized. The world outside her window seemed darker, as if the sun itself had dimmed in response to her loss. She knew she had to keep going, force herself to take one step, then another, even though every movement felt like trudging through thick, unforgiving mud.

She knew she had to erase you from her mind, from every little corner where you had once lived. The freckled girl stopped showing up to work, leaving Dina to be the one to tell you she was quitting. It was childish, she knew that, but the idea of facing you, of seeing you, was too much to bear. She knew that if she saw you, she would crumble, her resolve breaking as she begged you to come back, to love her back the way she had believed you once did. Beg you to let her hold you, in her arms, where you belonged. But you didn’t belong to her—if you had, you wouldn’t have left.

Each day that passed by, the redhead was left alone to wrestle with her heartache, a silent and insidious companion that had latched onto her like a parasite, feasting on the very essence of her being. It gnawed at her soul, leeching away her energy and joy, wrapping its cold, inky tendrils around her heart, holding her in an unbreakable ever present embrace of sorrow and despair.

Her friends noticed the shift in her, the way her laughter had disappeared, replaced by a hollow silence. She seemed distant, as if she was there in body but absent in spirit, a ghost of the girl she used to be.

No one knew what was going on inside her mind, no one except Jesse. He had seen the signs, had heard the unspoken words in her silence, but he kept it to himself, pretending not to know what had caused the light in her eyes to fade. Even when Dina couldn’t stop worrying about Ellie, but Jesse held his tongue, protecting the secret of her heartbreak. It was up to Ellie to talk about it to her friends—if she ever wanted to; he was certain that she eventually would, she just needed time.

Even Joel noticed the change in his daughter, the way she no longer found joy in the little things that used to make her smile. The eggs and bacon he made her in the mornings went untouched, her chair at the table often empty. She no longer filled the house with her endless chatter, no longer picked on him for his dad jokes. Instead, she withdrew into herself, isolating in her room or disappearing for hours at a time, leaving him to wonder where she was, who she was with. He had tried to find out, but all his searching had led to dead ends. His sweet girl had become a stranger, slipping away from him, slowly.

Summer, once Ellie’s favorite season, had become a cruel reminder of what she had lost. The warm breeze that used to fill her with a sense of freedom now felt like a mockery, a reminder of the momentary happiness that had slipped through her fingers like grains of sand. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to love summer again, not when it was tainted with memories of you. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get over what happened, the way you had reduced her to nothing while your life carried on, untouched by what you left behind.

She didn’t dare message you. She wasn’t that stupid. Pride held her back, even though the urge to reach out burned like an ember inside her, refusing to die out. You had told her not to, and she had promised she wouldn’t. And so, she kept her distance, even though a part of her hoped you would break the silence. But you never did, and neither did she.

Instead, Ellie focused on erasing every trace of you from her life. She gathered everything that reminded her of you, every small item that held a piece of your memory, and stuffed them into a box. She couldn’t bring herself to throw it away, but she needed them out of sight, out of reach. They were relics of a past she needed to forget.

The auburnette collapsed onto her bed, pulling her sketchbook into her lap. The pages felt heavy in her hands, filled with drawings that now only brought her pain. With a deep breath, she began tearing them out, each rip a cathartic release of the anger that had been building up like a lego tower right beneath her apathetic surface. Sketches of you, peaceful in sleep, your face lit with a smile or lost in thought, fell around her like leaves in autumn, each one a reminder of how deeply she had loved you. How deeply she had fooled herself.

Ellie’s hands paused as she reached the last page. There, among the sketches of you, was a drawing she hadn’t made. It was of her asleep, her features soft and unguarded. She recognized your handwriting at the bottom of the page, the words you had scrawled there while she was sleeping in her bed, unaware of your restless state that night.

“You’re such a creep. But a cute one. :P P.S. your snoring sounds like a horde of angry, sleep-deprived dinos.”

The storm of anger that had driven her to tear apart her sketchbook faded, replaced by a wave of sadness so intense it took her breath away. Her fingers traced the lines of the drawing, the tenderness in each stroke, the way you had captured her as you saw her, not as she saw herself. You have made her beautiful. You had seen something in her that she had never seen in herself. Her vision blurred as tears welled up, spilling onto the page, dampening the paper. She hadn’t even realized she was crying until a sob broke free, wracking her body with the force of her grief.

She slammed the sketchbook shut, tossing it aside as if it could rid her of the memories that clung to her like thorns. Her hands flew to her face, muffling the cries that echoed in her chest, the screams she was too broken to release. She buried her face in her palms, her body shaking with the effort of holding herself together, even as everything inside her was falling apart.

Ellie wished she would never cross paths with you again, the one who had so cruelly ripped her heart apart with the precision of a surgeon and the callousness of a butcher. You had done it without hesitation, without a second thought, leaving her to pick up the jagged pieces of what was once whole. She had begged and prayed, whispered desperate pleas to every deity that would listen, hoping beyond hope that the universe would grant her one mercy: that she would never have to see you again.

But Cupid, in all his twisted irony, had other plans.

To be continued…

725 notes · View notes

neverwanttofallasleep · 1 year ago

Text

A Need That Goes Unspoken - Chapter 3

Word count: 4,797

For pairings, warnings, and disclaimer - see Masterpost

thank you again @writingcold for your support x

a/n: please bear with me if the next few chapters take a bit longer to get out. life is happening - sorry! i will definitely finish this story and i'm still writing as we speak. just gotta make more time x

(this chapter contains explicit sexual content!)

You stare at yourself in the mirror for a long while. You turn to view every angle of your body, just to double-check you haven't got anything twisted or any strings tucked in. Although you and Sam are seemingly in some kind of ceasefire, you’re reluctant to give him any ammunition to tease you. You think you know where you stand, but one wrong look, or in this case one nip-slip, and you might be back to being the recipient of his juvenile bullying again.

Last night, Alex had practically force-fed you some grilled salmon and vegetables, and fussed over how much water you were drinking, before Eloise had given him the stink-eye and told him to back off. As you tried to help clear the plates, Josh shooed you away. Everyone was at your disposal, offering you cups of tea or medicine or shoulder rubs, which you bashfully declined. The only offer you did take up was a cigarette with Jake, which you held between your shaky fingers as the two of you hid sneakily around the side of the house.

You’d decided that after this, a shower would do you some good. Relax your muscles, wash your hair. Rinse the adrenaline and sweat from the accident off of you. Jake had agreed.

“I think a shower is a good idea.” He’d hummed, plucking the smoke from your fingers and taking a drag. “Ellie always encourages hot water after a sickness or injury.” He smiled dreamily. “She’s gonna be such a good nurse.”

You grinned. “Of course she is. You picked a good one, Jake.”

He smirked, looking you dead in the eyes as he handed you back the cigarette. “Honestly, I still can’t believe she picked me, y’know. Three years later and I still feel like the luckiest guy on the planet.”

You shook your head as you exhaled the smoke. “She’s as lucky as you are. You two were meant for each other.”

He frowned. “It’s gonna be harder this year. She was only like half an hour away when I was at home. Now I’m gonna be all over the place while she’s stuck in Saginaw.”

You petted his arm reassuringly. “You’ll visit each other. And you’re both living your dreams. At least she’s not dropping out like Alex.”

He huffed a laugh. “God, yeah. I’d never want her to do that. I’ll just miss her.”

You felt so warm for Jake. When you were around him and Eloise, you could feel the love rolling off them in literal waves. It was like watching a romance novel come to life.

Jake had taken the smoke from you again. “Stop hogging. Alex’ll have my balls if he catches us.”

You’d giggled.

He’d stomped on the butt a minute or so later, and peeped his head around the corner to check for your aforementioned brother before waving at you to follow him back into the house.

Josh, who was washing the dishes, had given you a ridiculously obvious stage wink as you both returned inside, but luckily, Alex was back in the garden with Danny and Ellie.

Phoebe gave you a soft smile from her post by the sink, dish towel in hand. “How are you feeling now, Y/N? Better now that you’ve had something to eat?”

Phoebe is the sweetest living creature. Like an angel, or a faerie, plucked from the sky and put onto earth. She looks like one too. Long, golden curls flowing down her back, always jingling with sparkly jewelry and radiant in floaty summer dresses. She definitely doesn’t act like she’s 17. You believe she was surely reincarnated from an old soul, ridiculously wise beyond her years.

She and Josh have a special relationship, which is unsurprising for three reasons. One, everyone loves Josh. Two, everyone loves Phoebe. And three, Josh, despite his chaotic theatricality and the fact that his head is often stuck in the clouds, is a fierce protector of his brothers, Danny included. Anyone that enters the Kiszka orbit must first go through Josh, and he can be a force to be reckoned with, when he wants to be.

This is true for Jake, too, in a different way. He’s a quiet observer, and he’s too kind to ever really show contempt for anyone. Despite his shyness, he’s extremely attentive, always noticing things that others miss. He’s the calm to Josh’s storm, which makes perfect sense, when you think about it.

Both twins (and you assume Sam, although you weren’t paying any attention to him) took a shine to Phoebe the moment they met her, which was, coincidentally, the night Danny met her, too. You knew that for a fact, because you’d been there. It was at one of the band’s gigs in a dive bar, about eight months ago. Alex had dragged you along, sneaking you both through the back, much to your dismay. Once you heard them play properly, though, you had to admit they were quite good. Phoebe had been twirling around to the music like some sort of Stevie Nicks-esque goddess, and Danny couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He’d offered her a drink and introduced her to his brothers, to their great delight, and the rest is history.

Despite your being estranged from Danny and the Kiszkas and not getting to see much of her, the times you have spent with Phoebs are imprinted on your brain like a tattoo. She is endlessly kind, creative, sweet, and smart. You envy her, but you love her.

You’d nodded in response. “Yeah, dinner definitely helped.”

She’d smiled sweetly at you. “Let me know if I can do anything for you, babe.”

“Thanks, Phoebs. Still sore, but, you know. I’m actually about to have a shower, so hopefully that’ll help.”

Josh had gestured his head toward the bathroom as he pulled the plug from the sink. “Sam’s in there now. But we’re gonna head back outside, so it’s all yours next.”

You’d nodded.

Jake grabbed a couple of seltzers from the fridge and Josh followed him outside like a little puppy. Twins, you’d smiled to yourself. Like magnets.

Phoebe dried the last plate and stacked it next to the sink, hanging up the towel neatly, humming to herself. Not a care in the world. As she went to follow the boys outside, she turned back to face you, where you were still standing dumbly in the middle of the kitchen, off in your daydreams.

“Things still tense with you-know-who?” She’d asked you. Her voice is lilty, like a wind chime.

You shrugged. “Yeah, think so. Who knows, maybe we’ve trauma-bonded.”

She’d giggled. “Nothing brings people together like fear.”

You heard some semblance of truth in her words. Knowing Phoebe, she probably wasn’t being sarcastic. She has a very optimistic view of the world.

“I’ll be outside if you need me.” She’d smiled, and flitted out the door.

You’d sat in your room until you heard the sound of the bathroom door open, and the door to the bunk room close. You grabbed some fresh pajamas and strode across the living room, reenergised from your food, and anxious for the steam to relax your aching muscles.

As you went to grab the bathroom door handle, the door next to it opened, too. You saw Sam properly for the first time since he left the truck. His hair was wet, once again, and he was wearing pajama shorts and a white t-shirt. He didn’t look great, if you were honest. He had circles under his eyes he was moving very stiffly, as you imagined you were, too. You made steady eye contact, and held it for a moment, unsure how to proceed.

“Are you okay?” You’d whispered.

“Been better. But I’ll live.” He turned his body further toward you and gave a weird, small smile. “You?”

“I’m fine. Alex has been fussing over me but I’m really okay. Just a headache and sore all over.” You gestured to the back of your head. You were word-vomiting, because you didn’t know how to navigate this. This might have been the first civil conversation you and Sam had shared in three years, if you didn’t count the one in the truck earlier.

You’d looked him up and down. “Did you get hurt?”

He gave an extremely small, reluctant nod. Barely a tip of his chin. “There wasn’t a headrest on my side.”

You’d felt your face drain of color, and you gasped. “Your neck! Sam, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He frowned. “Couldn’t really feel it at the time.”

You were feeling so, so guilty. “I’m so fucking sorry.” You’d had to hold back the urge to place your hand on the side of his neck, to soothe him in some way.

“It’s alright, Y/N. Wasn’t your fault. Could’ve happened to anyone.”

You’d shaken your head. “I know. But I should’ve been paying more attention. Braked earlier. Checked to make sure you were alright after. I was so useless.” You felt a tear beginning to slide down your cheek, and now you had another emotion to contend with. On top of feeling like the worst person on the planet, being the one person Sam disliked so much, and also getting him into a car accident and giving him whiplash, now you were embarrassed for crying in front of him.

“We’ll be fine.” He’d tried to smile at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He’d padded away to the fridge to get himself some water as you quickly shut yourself in the bathroom. You were so conflicted. There was a part of you that wanted to scold yourself for worrying about Sam. He was going to be fine, just like you. No blood, no permanent injuries. Just a shitty thing you went through together, and that didn’t change the fact that he was a dick to you. But another part of you wanted to comfort him, share his pain. You did, after all, go through it together. And you did, unfortunately, still care about him, and want for his safety and happiness. You hated that. He obviously didn’t give a fuck about you, so why did you give a fuck about him?

You’re thinking the same thing now, as you stand in the same bathroom, staring at yourself in your bathing suit. Yesterday was horrible, but it’s over. You’re still sore, but it’s starting to fade. Would you and Sam go back to being mortal enemies now that a new sun has risen? You hope not, but at the same time, why wouldn’t you? Would it feel more normal if he started picking on you again? It’s not like you’ve made any kind of incredible, emotional breakthrough. You checked on each other last night, did your due diligence. Maybe that’s all it was.

A moment later, you get your answer.

“Can you hurry the fuck up in there? Some of us also need to use the bathroom.”

Your face immediately drops into a sneer. “Can’t you go upstairs?”

“No,” comes the reply, affronted.

You huff, pulling your dress back over your bathing suit, and swing open the door.

“You need to learn some patience.” You spit at Sam. God, maybe the prospect of a truce and then having it pulled out from under your feet was making you more fiery than normal.

“You need to learn how to be faster in the goddamn bathroom.” He fires back, looking you up and down with a nasty smirk. “This isn’t a fucking sorority.”

“Fuck you, Sam.” You growl and push past him, back to the safety of the sunroom.

Christ. Ceasefire over. This is war.

You get a hard ‘no’ from Alex as you begin to pull the cooler out of the back of Jake’s Jeep.

“Don’t you dare. You’re not carrying anything.” He scolds you, attempting to pry your fingers from the handle.

“I’m fine.” You groan. “Sam’s carrying a chair.” You add under your breath, not wanting to draw his attention.

“Sam’s not my sister.” Alex clips back. “If he wants to end up in a neck brace, that’s his prerogative.”

You smirk at that, finding the image of Sam in a neck brace crudely satisfying.

You relent, dropping your hand, and begin the short trek through the grass onto the sand.

You fucking love the beach. Like, insanely love it. If you had to pick your top three places on earth, it would be, in order: the beach, the Eiffel Tower (having never been, but you’ve always wanted to), and the Frankenmuth library.

The beach at Oscoda, on the shore of Lake Huron, which is so expansive it could easily be mistaken for an ocean, is your absolute favorite. You must’ve really blocked it out of your memory, because looking at it now, it’s even more beautiful than you remember. Sparkling blue water, almost-white sand, the little pier stretching out into the shallows. There are small children splashing about and parents sitting under umbrellas. It’s like heaven.

You hear Josh call from behind you. He and Sam are pulling things out of the cooler onto one of the picnic tables under the trees, which must have a perfect view of the water.

“Drink, Y/N?”

“Just one!” Alex calls from the car.

You roll your eyes, and Josh winks.

“Yes, please. Did we bring seltzers?” You ask, and he grins, pulling one out and walking toward you.

He hands you the drink and you both turn back to look over the water.

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” He muses.

“I forgot how much so.” You reply dreamily.

Josh smirks at you cheekily, tugging at the hem of his tank top. “Race you in?”

You shriek and giggle as you slide off your sandals, whip your dress over your head, dump it onto the sand and your unopened can and sunglasses on top of it, and sprint for the water. Josh is barely a hair behind you, and as you both splash deeper into the waves, he grabs your waist and pulls you under with him.

You spend an extremely pleasant moment fully submerged, the ice-cold water piercing your skin in the best way possible, before emerging and whipping your hair back out of your eyes. Josh does the same.

“Oh, it’s so much warmer today!” He exclaims.

“Warmer?” You reply, shocked. “It’s freezing!”

He shakes his head. “It’s perfect.”

You grin, splashing each other and swimming around.

In your peripheral, you see Jake and Danny running for the water. They came with the girls in Ellie’s car, while Josh drove Jake’s, and must’ve arrived minutes after you, but they’ve certainly wasted no time. They shove each other as they approach, and eventually Danny’s sheer size causes Jake to tumble forward under the waves.

You all laugh as he pops back up, performing a much more impressive hair flick than Josh.

“This is what summer’s all about!” Danny declares. He paddles up to put an arm around your shoulders. “So glad you came, Y/N. Wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

You blush. “Thanks, Danny. I’m glad I’m here too.”

You look back toward the table. You see Alex and the girls heading toward your group, their feet just barely in the water. You’ve managed to get quite far from the shore in a short amount of time, but you can still just make out Sam, sitting at the table, sunglasses on. You wonder if he’s looking at you, before shaking the thought away. Why would he? Perhaps to make a mental list of things to tease you about. You scowl.

You all spend an enjoyable amount of time splashing around in the cool water. After a few minutes, you become completely acclimatized, and it now feels like a very pleasant temperature.

Danny and Jake get Phoebe and Eloise up on their shoulders and the girls have a very impressive chicken fight, with Ellie ending up getting thrown off, laughing all the way down. As he pulls her up out of the water, Jake complains that Danny has a height advantage, to which Ellie wraps her petite arms around Jake’s neck and says, “You’re the perfect height for me, baby. Wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Jake looks absolutely smitten with that, and they begin kissing, while Danny and Alex cat-call, and Josh makes fake gagging noises.

“Okay, food and drinks time!” Phoebe proclaims, and everyone follows her, trudging back toward the shore.

You hang back, wanting to enjoy the serenity alone for just a bit longer. You lay back and float, closing your eyes, and letting the gentle current pull you around a little. You think about Sam. You try not to, but that just makes it worse.

You hate that after all these years, less than two days in his proximity has brought back all these feelings. You want to hate him, because he hates you. But you can’t. You can’t erase the memory of the boy who gave you his ice cream when yours fell out of the cone, the boy who helped you ride a bike for the first time, the boy who let you have the bottom bunk even though he was scared, too. He’s still in there, and you saw a glimpse of him yesterday, when he put his hand on your knee and waited for you to breathe normally again. You’d never admit it to anyone, hell, you can barely admit it to yourself, but you know you’d do anything for another glimpse.

You hear Alex and Josh calling your name from the table and you bring yourself upright again.

“Coming!” You call back, as you begin to wade your way back into shore.

You catch Sam’s eye as you walk through the sand, sliding your sandals back onto your feet. At least, you think you do. It’s hard to tell with his sunglasses on. He has a very strange look on his face.

“What, no snarky comment?” You snap at him. “Not gonna tell me I have a wedgie or something?”

He schools his expression into something disdainful, and does something extremely childish. He pokes his tongue out at you.

You have to bite back the giggle that threatens to burst. You won that round.

You sit down at the table next to Danny and run your eyes over the spread in front of you. Another one of Josh’s famous cheeseboards, this one supplemented with fruit and cured meats, too. Your mouth waters. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot something, and you break out into a huge grin.

“Josh!” You exclaim, reaching for the jar of pickles. “Thank you! When did you even get these?”

Josh gives you a funny look, glancing around the table before giving you an equally enthusiastic smile.

“That’s my little secret.”

You grin as you twist the top open and pull out a spear, taking a huge, crunchy bite. You hum with contentment, your eyes slipping closed.

“Fuck, yeah.”

Everyone chuckles. Well, almost everyone.

Your little group spends a very pleasant couple of hours down at the beach. You all take another dip in the water, sunbathe a bit, and polish off the snacks. You help Danny and Phoebe build a ridiculously lopsided sand castle, before the water rises and a small wave pulls it all down.

Every time you try to sneak a glance at Sam, his eyes are on you, accompanied by a scowl. You quickly look away. He’s quiet and stays under the trees for most of the outing, and you can only assume he’s trying to behave in front of his brothers, while making his mental list of ways to torment you later. He’s impossible.

As you help Josh pack up, you can’t help yourself. You sneakily stare at Sam as he walks, alone, down to the water and submerges himself. You try not to look as he reemerges, face to the sky, as the water streams in tiny rivulets from the tips of his hair down his golden chest. You wish he didn’t look so damn good. And you wish you didn’t feel a pang of guilt and empathy when you notice how stiffly he’s still moving.

You let yourself dry out in the sun on the back porch when you return home. The girls sit by your sides, towels splayed out underneath you, as you let the rays warm your face and body.

Alex wordlessly places a bottle of sunscreen on the decking next to you, and you give him a dirty look.

After a little while of tanning and gossiping, Jake appears at the back door, drinks in hand.

“Ladies.” He offers, holding the glasses out for the three of you.

“Did you make us cocktails, baby?” Ellie exclaims as he leans down to give her a kiss.

“Sure did.” He brushes her hair back from her face. “Anything for my girl. Girls.” He blushes.

Their love-fest would almost be nauseating, if it wasn’t so damn perfect.

After your reluctance to come on this holiday, and the traumatic events of yesterday, you’re actually surprised at how happy you feel to be here, now. Sam could sulk in his bedroom and give you dirty looks all he wanted, but you’re resolved not to let it ruin your trip.

After another late dinner and a few rounds of beer pong in the backyard, everyone starts to say their goodnights and head off to their respective rooms. There seems to be a sleepy, sunkissed aura around the house. You do your rounds, thanking everyone for a lovely day (except Sam, obviously, who’s been mysteriously absent since dinner and presumably already in bed).

You decide it’s finally time to shower and wash the sand out of your hair, so you grab your pajamas and pad quietly through the dark living room. Not a second after you’ve shut yourself in the bathroom and pulled your dress over your head, there’s a knock on the door.

“Occupied!” You call.

The door opens anyway, and Sam steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaning back against it, eyes on you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You whisper-shout at him, covering your bathing suit with your arms.

He doesn’t reply, and you cannot, for the life of you, deduce the look on his face.

“Sam, this isn’t funny. Get the fuck out. I’m trying to shower.”

He’s silent, but he takes a step toward you, crowding in on you in the small space. You feel your pulse begin to quicken, a sneer plastered on your face. You feel… afraid? What is this?

“What are you doing?” You say again, but again he doesn’t reply. He is staring at you with so much intensity, you start to feel claustrophobic.

“Why were you staring at me at the beach? Have you been cataloging horrible things to say to me?” You smirk, mostly to yourself. You know you were right.

He doesn't respond, but you see a flicker of a smile on his mouth. He’s so close to you now. Your toes are almost touching.

“Why do you hate me, Sam? What the fuck happened to us?”

He takes a step closer to you, but he still doesn’t say anything.

You feel your heart begin to race. Is he about to hit you? Scream in your face?

“What are you doing?” You ask quietly, for a third time.

He steps even closer, his knee bumping your thigh as he plants a foot between yours.

“Sam, what’s going on?” Your voice is barely a whisper now. You feel a strange fluttering in your throat.

Sam does something completely unexpected. He places a hand on your chest, pushing you back until your ass hits the bathroom counter. You just stare at him. He lifts other his hand to your chin, ghosting his fingertips across your bottom lip. You let out a small gasp. In the millisecond that your lips are open, he crams his two middle fingers into your mouth.

“Can you just shut up for. One. Fucking. Second?”

Your eyes are wide as saucers, staring into his. You nod.

He breathes a deep sigh, as if what he’s about to tell you is physically painful for him. As if he hasn’t physically restrained you. “I was staring at you at the beach, because…” he frowns, and runs his eyes down your body. “Because you look so fucking hot in that bathing suit."

You take in a sharp breath around his fingers. You don’t know how to react to what he’s saying. He thought you were hot?

“Did you wear that just to spite me?” He’s almost growling at you.

You shake your head. Your saliva is starting to drip down your chin, but something about it is obscenely erotic. Your heart is hammering in your chest. You don’t have a single clue what is transpiring between the two of you at this current moment. All you know is that you don’t want him to remove his hand. He’s completely invading your senses. Everything is just Sam. Sam. Sam.

“I fucking hate what you do to me.” He breathes, looking down at the floor.

You just stare at the top of his head. It’s as if he’s forgotten that you can’t respond. You can feel the redness burning in your cheeks, sweat beading on your neck, heartbeat thundering under his palm. Your arms have dropped, limp by your sides.

He looks up at you again. You can see that his breathing has sped up. His pupils are blown wide. Is Sam Kiszka turned on by you?

“You are so fucking beautiful.” He says it like he’s angry about it.

You don’t even recognize the sound coming out of you when you whimper, and he withdraws his fingers from your mouth. They’re dripping with your spit, and he slides his hand down to wrap them loosely around your throat. His eyes flick between yours, and for a split second, he looks earnest.

“Do you want this?”

You don’t even take a second to think before breathing, “Yes.”

His mouth crashes down on yours, hard. It’s all teeth and tongue, and before you can even blink, you’re reciprocating. What the fuck is happening? You’re so turned on, every part of you that connects with him is tingling.

His grip on your throat becomes tighter, and his other hand slides down your stomach to grip at your hip, his long fingers digging into your skin. It hurts deliciously.

You flail your arms until one of your hands is knotted firmly in his hair, the other gripping the nape of his neck.

You make a small noise into his mouth and he hums in agreement. Roughly, and without ceremony, he slides his hand down to palm at your breast, as his lips drag across your jaw and down your neck. He bites down, hard. You whimper.

“Fuck.” He murmurs into your skin.

You can feel his erection pressing into your hipbone, and in a startling moment of clarity, you realize that you’re kissing Sam. Your Sam. This can’t be real.

He slides the hand on your hip around to grab a handful of your ass, as the other pushes into the front of your bikini bottoms. He roughly circles your clit with his fingertips as he brings his mouth back to yours, sinking his teeth into your lip. You clench your jaw to keep from whining.

You grip his forearm as he continues to touch you, sliding his fingers through you before pushing them inside. He pumps relentlessly as his thumb takes over your clit, his eyes darting between yours.

You moan, throwing your head back and lowering your arms to grip the edge of the counter. Fuck, this feels so good.

You want to touch him, too, but you can’t. You’re too wrapped up in your own bliss.

You feel yourself begin to clench around his fingers and you lean your face down into his neck, moaning breathily into his ear.

“You gonna come for me?” He grunts.

You make an affirmative noise in the form of a whine as you unravel, your limbs shaking and teeth sinking into his collarbone.

You lean against him, panting, for a few moments, before he abruptly removes his hand from you. He wipes his fingers on his jeans and steps away.

“Do you want -” You begin, but he cuts you off.

“No.” He frowns, turns, and leaves.

You lean back into the counter, pulse still racing, legs heavy, as you try to piece together what’s just happened. Sam just gave you the fastest orgasm of your life, and then walked out, with no explanation.

What the fuck was that?

@ohgodthefeeling-gvf @profitofthedune @sinarainbows @klarxtr @jakesgrapejuice @gretavangroupie @mackalah @clairesjointshurt @writingcold @alwaysonthemend @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @hi-hi-hello11 @dont-go-home-without-me @gvfpal @freefallthoughts @m0uthfl13s @violet-hayes @godly-sinsx

Message me if you'd like to be added/removed from my tag list!

#greta van fleet #sam kiszka #josh kiszka #danny wagner #this is fiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fic #jake kiszka #sam kiszka x reader #sam gvf #gvf smut

96 notes · View notes

milktearosethorn · 4 months ago

Text

My Stormlight Archive AU DSMP Masterpost under the cut (If you are one of the .00001% of people who can understand this I am kissing you on the mouth):

First, Odium conquers this whole server no-diff because none of these fuckers are honorable enough to stand against him.

On that note, c!Dream is a Bondsmith and Really Really bad at it. He makes early-Oathbringer Dalinar look like a fifth ideal Radiant.

c!Tommy is the other server Bondsmith and is slightly better at the whole unity thing since he can get people to rally behind him, but he is never able to swear an oath after the second ideal because he and c!Dream can't put their differences aside until it's too late.

c!Quackity is a Lightweaver who breaks his oaths and kills his bonded spren because he's unable to admit the hard truths about himself. That cryptic spren that he intially bonded with is c!Slimecicle, rip. He doesn't given his pain to Odium (because he won't admit that he has it) but he does sign away the souls of the rest of the server to preserve his pocket in Las Nevadas, Taravangian-style.

c!Sam is the most fucked up Skybreaker imaginable. Swears himself to Pandora's Vault.

c!Sapnap is a Stoneward, easy. Actually makes good progress swearing his ideals before the apocalypse.

c!Eret broke her Windrunner oath and killed her bonded Honorspren with the Final Control Room, but she manages to redeem herself and bond a new spren, becoming a Willshaper.

c!Ponk is an Edgedancer. Also makes good progress swearing their ideals.

This might be a weird choice, but I think c!Phil and c!Techno would be fourth ideal Skybreakers who swear their oaths to anarchy as the higher power that they serve. They also use lifelight rather than stormlight for their surges and have unknown deals with the Nightwatcher.

c!Niki is a Dustbringer, makes strong progress in her oaths after joining the Syndicate.

c!Ranboo is another Lightweaver. Doesn't make it very far in swearing their oaths.

c!Karl has the mental stability of a Lightweaver but is actually a sworn Truthwatcher. His spren is corrupted by Sja-Anat.

c!Hannah is another Edgedancer, but bonds a corrupted spren.

This is all I got for now, Adonalsium help these people 😭

#silly post with a target audience of 1 (me :3)

6 notes · View notes

moonluringfrost · 1 year ago

Note

Heeeey, happy WBW! :D Any chance we could get a masterpost for how magic works and any other magical concepts you'd like to go on about in TSGQ's setting? Because ngl, I've been meaning to ask after your one post about souls, haha.

Hi Jax! Happy WBW! (it might not be wbw anymore by the time I finish typing, but it still counts, right?)

Full disclosure: While the rules for ghosts are the same across all my settings, tsgq *usually* doesn't deal as much with ghosts as much as the undead, which are a different thing. We'll get into the difference in a bit.

So. Magic. Everyone in TSGQ and AUS have magic. But it's a one serving per person sort of a deal. Some people's magic has more breadth than others, and some are super super specific.

For example, Vervain can use magic to make herself move very very fast. She cannot use magic to supplement her own energy, which means that when she moves very very fast she's still feeling the exertion of it. If she moves too fast for too long, she will faint.

The little prince, on the other hand, can move clay according to his will. This includes soil with a lot of clay in it, but under a certain threshold it won't work anymore.

The current theory amongst magic scholars is that the type of magic you get is dependent on what stars you were born under. This may or may not be true.

While there are nearly infinite possibilities on what form magic can take, its not impossible for two people to have the same magic, it's just unusual. There are also people who never figure out what their magic is before they die, if it's specific enough, or ill suited to where they live.

If a person's magic lets them control clay, but they live in an area where the soil is very sandy, and they never really come across any clay, it's about the same as if they didn't have any magic to use on a practical level.

There are many different types of magic, some of which overlap. There's water magic, fire magic, weather magic, physical magic (which is like. manipulating kinetic energy, usually), radiant magic (which comes from the sun but also cursed rocks left over from The Radiance), plant magic, life magic...

Speaking of life magic. Necromancy is a subset of life magic. Putting life magic back into dead things is basically the whole of how it works. Which means...

Necromancers can raise the dead, but they're just kind of puppets. A necromancer can't bring back a *person* with consciousness unless that person is Very freshly dead. I'm talking within seconds, a minute tops.

Because souls aren't made of life energy, they're made of something completely different. Scholars haven't figured out *what* exactly, they're made out of. Some argue it's divine magic, which is something only gods can manipulate, some argue that not even the gods have power over the fabric of souls.

The only way a soul is going to be a part of the undead is if it hasn't left the body yet.

Which means that the undead are entirely separate from ghosts, unless a ghost happens to be angry that someone is puppeting its body without it. Which does happen.

There are folks who can see ghosts and interact with them easier than others, as part of their magic. There are some that even attract ghosts. Attitudes towards ghosts and those who associate with them vary regionally.

Wait i forgot to mention that if a necromancer does manage to raise a person who just died with consciousness in tact they still might have control over them, depending on what sort of necromancer they are. That's important to know.

I thiiiink that's everything I have on magic off the top of my head? I can always make more posts about it if i remember something 😅

#thanks for giving me an excuse to ramble!#wbw

7 notes · View notes

oraclekleo · 2 years ago

Text

Goo Gun Il (Xdinary Heroes) Kissing Style Tarot Reading

Disclaimer:

All readings have purely entertainment nature

I don’t know any of the celebrities personally

Don’t base life decisions purely on tarot readings

I can never guarantee any of what’s said in the reading

Before requesting, read the pinned post and appropriate linked post

Tarot readings are my hobby - I’m not obligated to accept any of the requests nor to complete them, it’s my choice, not duty

Waiting time is long, even several months

If you can’t wait, please, seek other tarot reader

Reading Info:

Rating: 18+

Reading Type: Single - Couple

Requested: Yes - No

Requester: /

Deck(s): Gods and Titans Oracle, Wild Mystic Oracle, Dark Wood Tarot, Oracle of the Radiant Sun, Deep, Dark & Dangerous Oracle

Spread: Kissing Style

Questions:

Gunil’s Kissing

Celebrity Info:

Full Name: Goo Gun Il

Stage Name: Gunil

Group: Xdinary Heroes

DOB: 24.07.1998

Sun Sign: Leo

Chinese Sign: Earth Tiger

Life Path Number: 4

Zodiac Tarot Card: VIII Strength

Personality Tarot Card: IV The Emperor

Soul Tarot Card: IV The Emperor

Masterpost: Xdinary Heroes

Ko-fi - Voluntary Tip for Readings

Goo Gun Il

Gunil (Xdinary Heroes) - Kissing

Spread / Question: Kissing Style

Deck(s): Gods and Titans Oracle, Wild Mystic Oracle, Dark Wood Tarot, Oracle of the Radiant Sun, Deep, Dark & Dangerous Oracle

Cards:

Gods and Titans Oracle

Prometheus

Wild Mystic Oracle

Jackalope (Believe)

Dark Wood Tarot

XIX The Sun

Page of Swords

5 of Wands

Oracle of the Radiant Sun

Moon in Aquarius (Independence)

Deep, Dark & Dangerous Oracle

34. Jörmungandr (Cycles)

Interpretation:

Gunil is a generous and passionate kisser and at the same time he always keeps his partner in mind. He’s not greedy, possessive or seeking his own satisfaction first. Gunil’s kisses are creative and like from another realm. They ignite flames of passion in his partner. Gunil is an active and restless kisser, he’s likely to change angles, pace and pressure often in order to catch his partner off guard and make a life changing impact. He might even jump at his lover and start kissing them out of pure enjoyment.

Gunil is one expert kisser - enthusiastic, bright, overwhelming. His kisses are warm and comforting, he’s likely to embrace his partner, hold them close to him giving the very needed support for them to hold onto when their knees grow weak. His embrace is secure and lovely but Gunil doesn’t cage or imprison his partner. He might become a bit competitive when kissing, seeking for all the weak and sweet spots of his lover intentionally and in order to “defeat” them in the art of kissing. To surrender surely feels good in this case.

Gunil loves women. Not only in a romantic sense. He feels a sweet and tender bond with them, an inner closeness. Gunil respects and likes them in the purest form. Gunil is likely to reflect it in his kisses. While he’s the active one, the initiator, and he’s an avid kisser, when his partner hints they would like to take the reins, Gunil picks the hint up instantly and gives his control up. He’s more than excited to learn, to explore, to try new sensations.

Gunil’s kisses come like waves - with changing intensity but with inevitably certainty. Some kisses are deep and overwhelming, some lure and build the tension up, some are sweet and reassuring. Gunil has excellent instincts and a sense for great timing. He goes with the mood, follows the flow and sweeps his lover off their feet. He can steal their breath away at a perfect moment.

Yes, I know it's not a completed request but I'm trying to get back into the mood. 😊

Thank you for reading!

Hit the Like 💖

Comment! 💬

Reblog! 🔁

Follow for more! 💌

Any Feedback is Welcomed ✅

Anonymous Feedback - Google Form

#goo gunil #gunil #gunil smut #gunil xdinary heroes #xdinary heroes gunil #xdinary heroes #xdinary heroes tarot #xdinary heroes scenarios #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes smut #kpop #kpop tarot #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #kpop imagines #oracle kleo #kpop imagine

19 notes · View notes

just-a-silly-little-whumper · 2 years ago

Text

Radiance

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

FUCK this was hard to write. But it has a lot of important setup for future stuff, so I wanted to make sure it got done. Hope yall enjoy!

Contains: Fantasy setting, mentions of fantasy religion, magic, intimate/creepy whumper

~~~

There was a wedding being held in Roviel Village. It was a small ceremony, held in the town’s shrine to the goddess of hearth and home. And, given that word had spread about the two new sorcerers in the valley, the brides Minh and Olivia asked Elze’ith to magically bless their union.

The enchantment wasn’t anything extravagant; it slightly focused their existing bond, allowing them to be more finely in-tune with how the other was doing and creating easier paths for communication. If their partnership ended, so too would the magic, but hopefully such a day would never come. A blessing befitting of a new marriage.

He felt their souls, for just a moment, when he cast the spell. The sense of justice that burned within Olivia, the boundless kindness that Minh nurtured, the love they had for each other and their community, tinged with fear and anger and hope. He reflexively pulled away as soon as the enchantment settled; soul magic was dangerous and intimate territory, and he didn’t want to overstep his bounds or get too entangled with these two strangers who had only asked him a favor. But as he watched their ceremony continue, the things he had felt lingered in the back of his mind.

It brought a smile to his face. Decades had passed since he had last given that blessing, but it still came as easily as ever, and judging by the radiant expressions on Minh and Olivia’s faces, it still brought joy to those he offered it to as well.

The ceremony had ended and the guests had begun to leave. Olivia and Minh were talking quietly amongst themselves; every so often they laughed, or kissed, or wished someone a fond farewell. Elze’ith and Altair found themselves lingering, basking in the warm atmosphere, content and at peace. It wasn’t often that they had the opportunity to enjoy the company of anyone other than each other, and even though no one spoke to them other than to exchange pleasantries, they wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

A crack of thunder sounded outside. There was hardly anyone still in the shrine, but those who remained flinched reflexively.

“The skies were clear earlier,” Altair murmured. Across the room, Minh and Olivia exchanged a knowing, worried look.

The door to the shrine creaked open. In the entryway stood Lord Denholm, with Ivetta Vernier a step behind.

“Ah, it seems I am not too late after all,” the Lord said, sweeping into the shrine. His aura of power thickened the air. “I was worried that by the time twilight arrived, the festivities would have long since ended. I am glad to see I didn’t entirely miss the wedding.”

Olivia took a half step forward, so that she was partially in front of Minh. “What are you doing here, Denholm?” she snarled.

“I merely wished to offer you two my congratulations,” Lord Denholm said smoothly. “A marriage is a wonderful thing, after all. Although I must say, I do find it rather… regrettable that you didn’t send word to Castle Tergoria of your intentions. I thought it was customary to inform your Lord of such proceedings.” He shook his head. “How times have changed.”

“We don’t need your permission,” Minh snapped.

“No, I suppose you don’t.” Lord Denholm’s voice was languid, but there was a sharp undercurrent to his words that had Elze’ith on edge. Next to him he could feel the tension radiating off of Altair like heat from a fire. “I just find it rather rude, is all. I would have so appreciated a proper invitation. And I’m sure that your brother, Olivia, would have liked to hear directly from you of your marriage. Perhaps I even would have given him leave to attend, if only you would have sent a note.”

Olivia went rigid. Minh took a step forward and laced their hands together. “What. Do you want.”

“It is still customary to offer gifts to the newlywed couple, is it not? I think it’s perfectly reasonable, as your Lord, that I get a portion of what you received on this day. In return I can forgive the insult of not having been invited to your wedding ceremony.”

Elze’ith bit his lip. The ceremony was simple, and only focused on affirming the union between Olivia and Minh. There were no gifts given, no food or drink offered, only love and people and community.

“You’ve already taken so much from us, and you still want more?” Olivia’s voice was laced with fury.

Minh’s voice was calmer on the surface, but Elze’ith could hear the undercurrent of rage and fear. “We didn’t receive anything today. There’s nothing we can give to you. Our apologies.”

“Well.” Lord Denholm’s teeth flashed in the low light of the shrine. “I’m sure we could come to… alternative arrangements.”

“Stop.” Altair’s voice echoed clearly through the small shrine. Flames danced on his fingertips. Lord Denholm turned to the two of them, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“Well, it is a pleasure to see the two of you. I’m glad to see you both are in good condition for once. Let’s try to keep it that way, hm?”

“Please, milord,” Elze’ith said, a plaintive note in his voice. “I am sure they meant no offense. There is no need to escalate things.”

“Oh, but I think there is.” The shadows underneath Lord Denholm’s feet were growing, twisting, writhing. “If there is one thing I cannot abide by, it is disrespect.”

“Respect needs to be earned. What have you done to earn it?” Olivia spat, even as she and Minh shifted uneasily.

“Would you like me to show you?”

Lord Denholm flicked his hand. The shadows under his feet grew sharp and surged towards Minh and Olivia. Elze’ith took a step forward and summoned his magic, and a magical barrier manifested between Lord Denholm and the civilians. The shadows recoiled harmlessly off of it. Ivetta unsheathed her sword, but Altair was there to meet her, palms ablaze. She was immediately on her back foot as Altair hurled flaming projectiles and fiery punches at her in combination.

“Go!” Elze’ith shouted. The last few wedding guests showed no hesitation in making for the exit. Minh tugged urgently on Olivia’s hand, and after a moment’s pause, the two women followed.

A swing of Ivetta’s sword caught Altair across the upper arm, and he grunted in pain. The blow was met with a burst of electricity from Altair that caught the back of Ivetta’s free hand. At the same time, Lord Denholm’s gaze flicked from the fleeing civilians to Elze’ith. The roiling shadows quickly changed course and rushed towards Elze’ith, circumventing the spot where Altair and Ivetta were fighting. Elze’ith took quick stock of the situation, closed his eyes, and lifted his hand skyward.

Summoning light was easy, one of the simplest arcane enchantments he had learned. Giving that light specific qualities— the qualities of a fire’s light, the qualities of moonlight, the qualities of sunlight— that took focus, and knowledge, and power. All things Elze’ith had, and all things he channeled into creating a ball of sunlight that beat back Lord Denholm’s shadows and had the man himself hissing in pain. He let the light hang in the air for several long moments before releasing it, opening his eyes to survey the new state of things.

Ivetta had her arm up to block the sudden onslaught of light, and Elze’ith barely caught the moment where Altair took advantage of her distraction to disarm her. Lord Denholm had stumbled several feet backwards, and he now looked slightly ruffled. Elze’ith took a deep inhale, trying to steady his panting breaths.

Lord Denholm held up a hand. “I think that’s quite enough.” He straightened, brushing himself off. “I must say, I am impressed with the two of you.”

Ivetta was still in a battle stance, eying Altair warily. “Milord—”

“Relax, Ivetta,” he said. “I believe I’ve gotten everything I need here. And now that the wedding party is safe, they have no reason to continue this bout of impudence. Isn’t that right?”

Altair’s chest was heaving as he stared Lord Denholm down. Elze’ith quickly interjected. “I believe so.”

“Wonderful.” Lord Denholm gave an oily smile. He glanced at Altair, and there was something hungry in his eyes. “It is nice to know that my suspicions about you were correct, young Buchannan. If only you had someone to keep you in line.” Then he looked at Elze’ith, and though his gaze was no less hungry, it was different in a way Elze’ith couldn’t quite put words to. “And you shine so brightly, Sylrel. Might that light shine only for someone who truly deserves it one day.

“Come, Ivetta.” Lord Denholm turned on his heel. Ivetta picked up her sword and went to follow. Altair flexed his hand, but after a warning look from Elze’ith, his arm went lax.

At the door to the shrine, Lord Denholm paused. “Should either of you ever need me, my door is always open. I look forward to the next time we see each other. My little ruin. My light.”

And then they were gone.

Elze’ith and Altair were motionless for a long moment. Then Elze’ith took a deep breath and made his way to Altair. Without saying anything he laid a hand on Altair’s arm and healed the gash mark that Ivetta left there. After several more moments of silence he spoke.

“Why do I feel like we just made things worse for ourselves?”

“Because Lord Denholm is a sinister creep, my dear. And he’s interested in us.” Altair’s voice dripped resentment.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Everyone is unharmed, at least. And we got him to leave.”

“For now.”

Elze’ith took Altair’s hand. “We’ll leave as soon as we can. Whatever he wants from us, we won’t let him have it.”

Altair gave a wry smile. “I hope you’re right.”

“Would I ever lie to you?” Elze’ith said, returning Altair’s smile. “Now c’mon. We should check up on everyone, then get some sleep. Today turned out more eventful than we were expecting.”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

Hand in hand, they made their exit.

#flicker in the dark #silly writes #elze'ith sylrel oc #altair buchannan oc #lord soren denholm oc #olivia kesby oc #minh le oc #ivetta vernier oc

10 notes · View notes

cloudywilmon · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 583 times in 2022

That's 583 more posts than 2021!

94 posts created (16%)

489 posts reblogged (84%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@purplehoodiesimon

@tooindecisivetopickaurl

@angelbabysimon

@prince-simon

@daylightsimon

I tagged 426 of my posts in 2022

Only 27% of my posts had no tags

#ask - 66 posts

#ask game - 41 posts

#anon - 24 posts

#ofmd - 22 posts

#yr fanfic - 21 posts

#yr - 19 posts

#yr fanart - 17 posts

#heartstopper - 15 posts

#wilmon - 13 posts

#yr fic - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#everytime i see them i’m like ok i’m gonna answer this when i have more time to answer it fully and the time never happens i’m so sorry

My Top Posts in 2022:

cl0udy_mi1k fanfic masterpost

Guide

Status

☑ complete ❒ in progress ☒ hiatus

Rating

Ⓔ Explicit Ⓣ Teen Ⓝ Not Rated

Young Royals

stand alone oneshots

get it off your chest, get it off my desk Ⓔ ☑

wc: 6,877

Vincent hasn’t called him to stand since the time with Felice, although there have been multiple nights where Simon has slept over. He supposes that while one can assume, it’s not actually evident that he and Simon had sex during those times (even though they definitely have). There was no mistaking the way they’d left early the night before, however. No mistaking the darkened bruise on Wille’s neck. They’ve already received some smirks from the boys around them, cheekily asking them if they’d had a goodnight.

i find myself running home to your sweet nothings Ⓣ ☑

wc: 2,196

He’d always known Simon was beautiful, to him, it was a universal constant. But now, getting to see him in person, looking up at Wille so openly - eagerly - he was radiant. - Following Wille's speech, he and Simon finally get some time alone together. Post S2 E6.

bloom where you are planted Ⓣ ☑

wc: 12,915

Wille is a plant boy, Simon has a black thumb. They both run semi-popular Instas.

series

darling, you're the one I want

1/2 - i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this Ⓔ ☑

chapters 8/8

wc: 59,633

Simon is Wilhelm's best friend, so when he confesses that he's insecure about his lack of experience Wille offers to help him. After all, it's what any good friend would do, isn't it?

2/2 - i want you (bless my soul) Ⓔ ☑

wc: 15,539

Wille and Simon decide to take another step in their relationship - but first, Wille needs to do some research (off the school wifi this time).

See the full post

36 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

If you want to you could totally post some of your art so that I can share it because I am IN LOVE with ballerina wille 🤭👀 no pressure but I just want anyone and everyone to see your beautiful creation 😇❤❤❤

🥺🥺🥺 i’m so honoured ty

38 notes - Posted March 24, 2022

bloom where you are planted

Wille is a plant boy, Simon has a black thumb. They both run semi-popular Instas. (ao3)

78 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

Some thoughts about Kristina:

We know she grew up as crown princess, so obviously she grew up with all the pressures, but as another layer she would be the first crown princess of Sweden ever. The change to the law of succession making the heir first born child regardless of gender was made in the 80s, so it would have applied when her dad was growing up. If she didn’t have any brothers there’s a chance it might have been changed specifically for her, which adds a whole other layer of pressure. Then, there’s the misogyny aspect of it, where there’s an idea that a woman would make a weaker ruler because of her emotions/ that they would be too emotional to leave. She’s probably had to intentionally tamper down any feelings so people would respect her as a leader and not question her decisions.

She’s also a grieving mother, she is clearly affected by Erik’s loss, but despite losing her son she still has to be the fave of the monarchy. She might be pushing down her emotions even further because if she let’s herself fear all that grief will bumble to the surface. If she lets herself show too much emotion others might question her ability to rule. Her way of protecting herself was to harden and thats what shes trying to do with Wille because its the only way she knows how.

I think she does truly care about Wille but her entire life has been warped by the crown and the pressures of the role, and she’s never really been challenged to unlearn that. In her mind, she’s doing what’s best for him. It doesn’t excuse the ways she’s hurt wille but there’s more nuance to it. She’s also a victim of the weight of the crown, and she’s passing along that weight and trauma to Wille because she doesn’t know any different.

107 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

tumblr_video

Wille’s first day ❤️

111 notes - Posted August 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #so glad my top post was wille’s first day edit 😌#also that tag was 100% about my getting tagged in ask games and not following through i’m sorry everyone

8 notes · View notes

kornstreifs-storys · 1 year ago

Text

The Planes

The Material

The World of the living. Here you’ll find the Planets, stars and galaxies. Most Legendary and Mythical Pokémon also live here, or rather they did. Up until the first Cataclysm. Up to that point this realm was also the home of Humanity, but after their disappearance the Mythical and Legends left as well. All beings in the Universe originate in the Material.

The Ethereal

The Ethereal is the mirror of the Material, just without any buildings or other artificial structures. It’s also called the Spirit Realm and is the place where all dead beings go after they died, although they won’t be able to enter the realm proper until they’ve been judged by Anima or one of her Reapers. It’s the home of the spirits, guardians of the Soul-Cycle, and it’s said that the realm is cast in eternal night.

The Glory

The Home of Arceus, God of creation. The Glory is a beautiful realm of light and peace. Endless Fields of radiant Flowers, golden Trees and Ancient Structures decorate the land. In it’s center lies the palace of live, Arceus residence from where he watches over all of creation. The Glory is also home of the Peaceful, souls of beings so pure they were offered eternal bliss in the realm of Arceus, and help him keep the order of creation. But even the souls of the peaceful can at every point chose to leave the Glory to be reincarnated again.

The Crucible

The Crucible is the desolate and long forgotten Soul-Forge of the Universe. Here, Gaia forged Arceus at the dawn of time. Today it’s the feared prison for the most wicked souls. A soul can’t be destroyed easily, without removing its energy from the cycle permanently, but the Crucible can slowly corrode the energy that holds a soul together. So if a soul is deemed irredeemable, it’ll be imprisoned there. One year in the Crucible is equivalent to 100 years in the Material. During that time the soul will slowly be forgotten by the world, until it’s no longer able to resist the Realms corrosion and is molten down, it’s energy returning to the cycle, cleansed.

The Distortion

A weird world of strange phenomena and wild Gravity. This home of Giratina, is filled with floating islands strange Rivers and endless barren plains. From here Giratina God of Gravity and Antimatter watches over the world. The Distortion also serves as the Prison wall for the Crucible, Giratina and its helpers being the wardens that make sure no soul can ever leave its prison. Anima also sends souls of the vile here to receive a fitting punishment and a chance of atonement, before they’re reborn to try and live a better live.

The Void

An empty realm between the other planes of existence. The Void Connects all realms of this Universe and also serves as the bridge that connects other Universes together. From here the second Cataclysm came over the world and it was also the place where Gaia would go to think about the world, when she was a bit fed up with all of creation. The Void is completely empty, aside from occasional visitors and chunks of other planes sometimes getting pulled into it, but those will quickly dissolve.

================================================

Back to Overview: Masterpost

#pokemon #pokemon au #ref sheet #worldbuilding

0 notes

cinnaster · 2 years ago

Text

Hey there! You can call me Cinna, Holopossum, or Sky, I'm he/them.

This blog is mainly for my TMNT writing, specifically for Radiant Souls, my ROTTMNT post-movie Infected AU fic.

Radiant Souls Masterpost

Most current chapter of RS

@holopossums <- Art blog where all the RS art is and much more

My askbox is open, feel free to send me questions/comments. I'm really excited to share my writing and ideas. Hope you all enjoy!

DNI:

TERFs/radfems/traitors to women and LGBTQs

You like tcest, sexualizing minors, or any of that nasty stuff

You support or participate in feeding others' creative works to AI

#asterisms

1 note · View note

ramblesofthemyu · 2 years ago

Text

welcome to the endless holiday ! 🎀

☆ myu here! this is a sideblog for my oc ramblings! for those who don't know me, I go be she/her, im aroace, and i like to ramble abt ocs. a lot.

☆ main account

☆ pokemon: angel on ao3

☆ character masterpost

☆ tags!

☆ Pokemon: Angel (and everything else associated with it)

pokemon: angel (ongoing, 12/20) - normal angel tag, everything here will be spoiler free

pokemon: angel spoilers - anything to do with spoilers for angel

endless holiday - story taking place right after angel! will always be tagged as spoilers until angel finishes

seas + skies - for anything related to my fakemon region arawan, spoilers for angel will be tagged accordingly

penelope's diary, cherish, clover - all of these contain spoilers for angel! will be tagged accordingly

radiant (ongoing, 4/12) - for radiant, will likely not contain angel spoilers

first flight - prologue to angel, will likely not contain spoilers

☆ Fanstories

☆ Original stories

The Starchaser - ykw au featuring Anne, a girl who discovered a yo kai watch one day, and since then has dedicated herself to gathering power from turning yo kai into soul gems so she can protect her loved ones.

The Golden Brewery - [WIP]

Daughter Earth - a tale of a newborn goddess who makes friends with a bunch of humans. a story about the value of life, and honoring the fallen. heavy major character death.

Bianca and the Mysteries of the Universe - a new story in the world of Daughter Earth, following Bianca, a high school senior looking to make the most of her last year of high school. After meeting Mode, a small devil who reveals to her the existence of supernatural beings, Bianca, along with her friends, follow the path of the now-wiped out New World Hunters to protect the world from the return of the old world order.

Lady Moira - the story of a teenaged girl, Margaret, who meets Moira, a vengeful spirit who was tasked to change the life of one of the living in order to enter the afterlife. A story about moving forward and helping one another.

At the End of Time - A young girl named Mini wakes up from a cryo pod and realizes that the end of the world is coming in only a month. As the last person on Earth, with only a little robot companion by her side, Mini comes to terms with her fate and the fates of all her loved ones.

Ballad of the Black Sheep - The princess of a kingdom ruled by a corrupt queen escapes into another world, similar to our own. The princess Blachet bonds with two brothers and becomes part of their family. But while she wants to escape her past, she soon realizes that in order to protect what she loves most, she has to face her biggest fears.

☆ Other tags

Specter's Sands - After meeting the mysterious Eliobus, whose soul was sealed in an enchanted hourglass, Celine Asmonte goes on a journey across the kingdom to release him back into the Sea of Life.

Lamb's Slumber - [WIP]

Edel House - [WIP]

Eve and the Forbidden Garden - [WIP]

lab 42 - i just scream abt ein, tesla and joyce here. possible fic sneak peeks too

pokemon swsh - any swsh rambles + angel stuff

pokemon sv - will include spoilers. possibly may include angel spoilers too

fantasy life oc - includes weiss (tailor weiss) and mal (wizard mal) art reblogged from mail

yo kai watch - spoilers for ykw1 and ykw2 probably, and the movie I guess. will also talk abt ykw ocs sometimes probably

myuudles - get it? myu? doodles? myuudles? haha im so funny, but anyways this includes both doodles and actual serious art

myu is a writer - writing tag, this is an injoke ok

myu answers asks - speaks for itself. asks.

myu's refs - character references (usually for artfight)

#pinned post!#pokemon: angel #the starchaser #daughter earth #lady moira #at the end of time #ballad of the black sheep #specter's sands #mysteries of the universe #lamb's slumber #edel house #the golden brewery #eve and the forbidden garden

0 notes

holopossums · 8 months ago

Text

★ Heyo there! My name's Sky, but you can also call me Holopossum, Cinnaster, or any nickname of my usernames! ★

He/them, no order preference. 29 & tired but doing my best!

Fan artist, furry artist, & writer. I love to draw my opossum sona & my favorite characters!

This blog is a hodgepodge of my own art/writing or things that inspire me, fan works or otherwise

Please don't repost my artwork/writing/creative work here or on other sites, feed my work to AI, or otherwise use it without my permission or credit, regardless of if I remember to sign/watermark. Just be polite and ask me instead!

Tcest/proship people & zoophiles will be blocked/blacklisted, but I do not endorse online harassment whatsoever

Art tag: #holopossums, Talk tag: #sky sez

DM me for commissions, info links below ↓↓↓

COMMISSION INFO || LINKTREE || PALESTINE LINKS

MASTERPOST FOR MY ROTTMNT AU, Radiant Souls

I also run a chill adults-only ROTTMNT Discord server - if you're 18+ and interested, please DM me for an invite!

#★ introduction ★#holopossums #art commissions #radiant souls #radiant souls masterpost #rs #wrow a proper pinned #i'm sure i'll end up changing this every so often

21 notes · View notes

ladytyburn · 2 years ago

Photo

You can find my D&D Campaign Masterpost here, if you are interested in Rhekine’s backstory.

In our last campaign, we were instructed to meet a wizard, who might have information on our campaign’s BBEG.

Rhekine, having read many fictional books about wizards, fancies himself an expert and certainly knows that wizards are very secretive and will only talk to other Wizards about this kind of stuff.

So he dresses up as one, as seen above. For the entire campaign, I kept up a “mighty old man” voice and had Rhekine refer to himself as “Lord Rhukine the Sunless - wait what do you mean you haven’t heard of me??”

We were sent through Prysbytrs door portal as usual and arrived on a field near a small village. A sheep ran up to us, carrying a scroll in its mouth.

Our paladin used the scroll, which turned out to be a spell to talk to animals. The sheep was actually the wizard we were looking for, who had been polymorphed by his powerhungry and arrogant apprentice, after stealing his staff and kicking him out of his tower.

So we decided to help him out - Rhekine came up with a plan to challenge the apprentice to a contest of wizarding skills, with the final challenge being a wandless duel. Rhekine speculated that if he beat the apprentice in the other challenges and then mocked him accordingly, the apprentice would put down the main source of his power - the staff of true polymorph, that he stole from his master, to prove his “true” skills.

The first challenge: Precision

Rhekine and the apprentice took turns trying to hit a target with spells. The main rule: The spell must leave a mark on the target that could only be a certain size, so you couldn’t just blast away the whole target.

Rhekine is a Way of the Sun Soul Monk, so he used the hand that was holding the staff to punch a Radiant Sun Bolt at the target. Due to some unfortunate rolls on the DMs side, the apprentice suffered an emberassing loss, and also expended three of his spellslots.

The second challenge: Speed

The contestants were tasked to make their way around the tower as quickly as possible. Whoever reached the finishline first, would win. The rule: The whole way around the tower had to be made, teleportation was off-limits.

Our Paladin had the resources to make an improvised but powerful smokebomb, and when the race began and the apprentice cast haste and greese on himself, Rhekine threw the smoke bomb and walked over to the finish line.

The apprentice arrived moments later, not really believing his eyes, but having to admit defeat a second time.

The third challenge: Summoning

The contestants needed to summon a familiar, and the summoning was to be judged by how intelligent, powerful and overall useful the familiar was. The rule: You couldn’t just transform something that was already alive.

Rhekine had a pipe that summoned a fey toad named “Hubbub” from a previous adventure.

Hubbub however might be able to talk and has his own will, but pretty much won’t / can’t do much more than that. This round went to the apprentice, who summoned his bed, polymorphed into a dragon.

Rhekine declared himself winner, but the apprentice was pissed, said that they obviously arrived at a draw, “since his summon was so much more impressive”, and demanded a final match to settle the score.

With a grin, Rhekine challenged him to a battle of wandless magic. The apprentice agreed, and put away his staff.

Our Paladin took the staff, and tried to use it on the wizard - but the staff promptly exploded, killing the wizard and transforming all the apprentice’s minions back into somewhat confused and angry humans. The apprentice ran away.

The wizard had managed to make a sort of astral plane force ghost out of himself and conveniently answered all the questions we had regarding the BBEG before fading away. (Thank you, DM!) The wizard was surprisingly chill about having just died, but the DM and I both love the Discworld novels, so people going “huh, interesting” upon dying, and other wacky stuff just working, is to be expected, I guess.

#dnd #art #wizard #funny dnd story #long post #oc #rhekine amakir #ladytyart #ladytyoc #ladytyrhekine

8 notes · View notes

inigofication · 3 years ago

Text

Soleil Masterpost, Sessions 17.5-24

An INCREDIBLY long and detailed catch-up post with how Soleil has been doing!

Session 17.5 (one shot with 2/3 party members)

In the midst of some chaos, Soleil is taking care of the group’s spaceship when a priestess of Erathis shows herself to Soleil, knocking her off her feet and tells her “Your brother still lives. Head to the Far Reaches.” Until now, Soleil thought her brother was dead- clings onto the idea that the Far Reaches is around Pluto (because of what she learned in school as a space pilot). Her and her gang are currently on Mars.

Soleil and fellow pc Hazel hang out at their ship together, Hazel accidentally sets off the hyperdrive and sends them to a magic school made at the beginning of time. Eventually discover that the place is being ran by someone named “The Master”, who is a passed out, scrawny, 19 year old kid that looks interestingly like one of our friend NPCS- possibly his son? Also, we accidentally take a cosmic being back to the present with us and we discover a message from the Master asking for Hazel’s dad.

Session 18

Soleil and Hazel use a scrying orb together to find out that Soleil’s uncle (who she recently learned is a alive) hired a succubus to find Soleil for him, and now said succubus is accompanied with a cultist and a vampire while they track us

Fellow pc Lorelle and Soleil have a shared gay moment over Hazel 👍

Session 19

Soleil discovers that she can’t use Message on her uncle because his appearance has changed so heavily from when she last saw him that it doesn’t work

Soleil tries contacting her brother for the first time. Hears back, “Move to the Eastern flank! All squadrons down! [+ continuous laser fire]” However, all she gets from him is that same message, looping over and over again until the spell ends. Weird, but not confusing; Soleil realizes they might be too far for their Message radio to properly reach him

Soleil full name reveal! A space station that they head for asks for her name, rank, and affiliation: Soleil Aimee Mercier, Rank Pathfinder, Project Neudon

After landing, the AI asks Soleil if she’s heard anything from the Far Reaches Movement; it’s purpose was to seek out exoplanets, train for eventual colonization, etc. The station was told to stay radio silent unless FRM reached out to them first- the AI sent us a distress call regardless because the station was losing power

The AI has Lucas’ (her brother’s) information in it’s database, but Soleil didn’t have high enough clearance to access it

We go to a city called Becon, meet Hazel’s father, and Soleil befriends one of his agents named Dahlia, a character I played in a one-shot previously! :)

Big combat time, the priestess of Erathis shows herself again, Soleil asks if she knows anything else about Lucas and the priestess states that she knows nothing else, only that Erathis herself asked for the message from prior to be passed on

Soleil and Lorelle later get the confirmation that their NPC friend Tomas is in fact a time traveler! Explains how his son(?) the Master may have been able to get to the start of time

Tomas reveals that he knows NOTHING about Soleil in his timeline, so he worries that he’s responsible for what happened to Soleil’s ship and for trapping her here in this timeline instead of hers.

Session 20

Hazel talks a plan with Soleil; instead of running from the succubus tracking them, we could let her find us because she would tell us where Soleil’s uncle is, and we could reunite with him

Soleil and Lorelle are roped into spying on a “not-date” that Hazel and Tomas go on, Lorelle interrogates Sol about maybe having a crush on Hazel

Since they’re at a tavern, Soleil spends the rest of that night drinking with Hazel’s dad’s agents (Dahlia & co). One of them, Eleven, propositions her and Soleil leaves in a very drunk and flustered state

Sol has never been to Becon and of course, in her drunken stupor, gets very lost in the city on her way to the spaceship. She wanders aimlessly before stopping on a bridge, and Sinnafex shows himself to Soleil to talk; he’s getting restless, wants to do some CRIME! Soleil blabbers on about how their relationship is a two-way street and she can’t do everything he says, and in her state, even goes to far as to call them friends (he begrudgingly agrees). He also agrees to be patient with her and Soleil sees something she hasn’t seen in awhile- the manifestations of butterflies that are on her arms.

She follows the trail of them to an alley way with a young lady crying at the end of it. Doesn’t get her name, but learns that she ran away from home, and didn’t like all the expectations put upon her, so Soleil saw herself in her. When the city guards showed up, Sol asks her if she still wants to leave- Sol’s identity gets obscured as Sinnafex covers her body in webs as she scoops up the woman to make a break for it

SOLEIL ACCIDENTALLY STOLE AWAY THE CROWN PRINCESS OF BECON (which Sol had no idea of until Hazel and Lorelle told her)

Session 21

Soleil has a dream, set in a dead world by every definition- broken skyscrapers, burnt fields, and everything is frozen in time as a cosmos storms above her, and eyes of radiant light shine down. They speak to her, calling her a Child of Tlachtli, and ask if she’s ready for the end. When Sol says no, they say to prepare for it or else she’ll end with it; this is the destiny of all living things. She is told she can only stop it by stopping the sun from rising; it’s impossible. She “cannot cheat destiny. [She] is not [her] mother.” Soleil wakes up after, taking it all in and wondering what her mom could have done

Surprise! The succubus and vampire get the jump on Lorelle and Soleil at the ship! Meanwhile, the cultist causes havoc at a temple of Pelor with Hazel

Soleil in her frustration accidentally kills the succubus, so resorts to keeping the vampire alive to get information from him instead

Session 22

Soleil realizes Lorelle left and meets both of them at the temple to be met with a horrible scene; Lorelle and Hazel’s families frozen in time by the now dead cultist. She comforts Lorelle while she cries.

A few days later, while Lorelle and Hazel are HEAVILY bickering, Soleil sees a sign of one of their acquaintances- a golden canary lands on her shoulder. She lets it guide her away from the other two until they reach the bottom of one of the city’s mountains, arrive at what looks like more of a fortress than a temple

More canaries appear and they let her into the space; it’s empty, full of blue fire torches and suits of armor. Soleil feels the thrumming presence of Sinnafex still in the Silken Spite. The canaries land on Sol’s head and shoulders, leading her to a room with a pool. The canaries leave and Soleil notices the design of a silver dragon carved into the pool, with a glowing orb in its mouth

(This was the Platinum Dragon, revealing she accidentally got into a temple; she didn’t know this because, as she’s from a different timeline, she doesn’t know a lot about the religion here.)

She wades into the pool, and the Silken Spite immediately reacts, moving up from her side to curl around her neck like a choker, away from the water. Soleil’s “demon arm” (the one she uses to wield Silken Spite) also burns when the water touches the spider marks on her arm. Soleil could use her non-dominant hand, but wouldn’t be as successful, so she throws a quick “SORRY!” to Sinnafex before diving her demon arm into the (definitely) holy water. ITS VERY VERY PAINFUL 😀

Soleil gets a vision; sees herself as a little girl in the Chun Dunes, a desert filled with huge rainbow crystalline chunks scattered across the area. A sword is stabbed into a red gemstone, its light bleeding, letting darkness fester. Soleil feels the need to help before the vision ends. She yanks her hand from the water; up to her elbow is completely burned and scarred. The butterfly mark on her palm is faded, can’t see the webs on her forearm. A woman from the temple finds Soleil, freaking out, and gets Soleil on bed rest despite Sol’s protests.

While sleeping, Soleil rolls over onto her scarred arm and is woken by the sound of the dead skin flaking off (GROSS). She goes to a basin of water to start to wash it all away… the spiderweb markings on her arm have completely disappeared, as well as the butterflies. Instead, they are now replaced with lineart of shimmering, silver scales, all the way up to her shoulder. The butterfly on her palm is now replaced with a silver dragon with butterfly wings.

While the butterflies are gone from Soleil’s arm, she can now summon them whenever she pleases, and make their colors whatever she’d like. She tries blue and pink, colors that remind her of her friends, and Sinnafex appears again to complain about the colors on the lining of his suit changing with it. He reveals that the spiders were less to do with him and more to do with the Spider Queen, and also that when Soleil goes to the dreamverse, her soul temporarily leaves her body for the duration- to him, she becomes an aurora of colors. He tells Soleil of an artifact of the Spider Queen they could retrieve for helping their situation.

When Sol is eventually back at the ship, the princess reveals that she practices conjuring magic, and that with her books, she could supposedly summon Soleil’s uncle, who is now more demon than person. Discuss plans.

Later, a black butterfly flies from Hazel to Soleil; a memory offering itself for her. Soleil looks- learns that both the Elven woman she saw in her dreams once and the princess are both tied to Hazel and her family.

Session 23

Fairly chill session, mostly just deciding plans for getting families back. Get invites to the Fall Festival, Soleil disguises herself to sneak into the princess’ chambers in the castle, retrieve her spell books and GET OUTTA THERE. Mostly an errands session.

Hazel calls Soleil “Soli” and she sufficiently has some gay panic 👍

Soleil talks to Lorelle to make sure she’s okay, talk about Soleil and Hazel maybe dating since Hazel keeps taking Soleil places in private?? Sol assures her nothing has happened with herself and Hazel

Soleil goes off on her own to buy potions and quickly realizes she’s being trailed by someone they saw months ago, someone who was aboard an imperial ship- somehow, they can see Sinnafex with Soleil, even when he doesn’t show himself on purpose

Soleil manages to hide from him for a bit, buys polymorph poison from the apothecary and arms herself- she’s immediately attacked when she leaves the room. She uses her hivemind to tell Hazel and Lorelle what’s happened. The man calls Soleil a heretic and tries to forcefully arrest her, leading to combat. Soleil eventually uses the poison and turns him into a rat, making a dead break for their ship to get away from public eyes and to trap him in one of their rooms.

Soleil gets to the ship before her friends in a frenzy, making a move for the captain’s quarters where Dalm (the vampire!) stays. She gives him her keen dagger, explaining that in 10 minutes the polymorph will wear off, and when it does, she needs his help holding the man here to tie him up.

Lots of talking with the man; he’s a Drow elf named Dimitri. As we tend to his wounds in the medbay, Soleil asks Sinnafex why Dimitri called her a heretic. Sinnafex shifts into a woman’s form and explains Dimitri’s history with the Drow empire. Dimitri says to be from the imperial guard, who have license to arrest anyone they deem is practicing witchcraft (which is why he went after Sol and Sinnafex).

In a moment of panic, Soleil CLOCKS Dimitri because she remembers she can go into his memories if he’s unconscious- plans to try and make him forget that their encounter ever happened. For the entire duration of the dreamscape, Sol’s body is externally covered in shimmering, purple electric static. In addition to checking on Dimitri, Sol also goes into her uncle’s memories. Her uncle is now a monster; a robotic centaur, twice his stature as before

(cw violence) Hazel, upon hearing about what Soleil’s uncle now looks like, has a horrible memory: one of Soleil’s uncle in that centaur form trying to OBLITERATE her family. He sends Hazel’s dad off the balcony and EXTREMELY harms the Elven woman from before. Soleil and Lorelle see the memory at the same time. Afterward, everyone takes a moment to process what they just saw. Hazel insists on leaving for the dinner she and Soleil have with her godfather, no matter how much we insist she needs bed rest.

Session 24 (this one was 12 hours long, BUCKLE UP)

Sol and Hazel go to the dinner with her godfather to get festival invites, he has a very nice mansion and lets them have their own rooms to stay the night.

Before the night is over, Hazel tells her godfather and Sol and Lorelle are interested in each other and wants them to spend more time together at the festival. Soleil FREAKS and finds out that Hazel is genuinely seriously about setting them up.

Soleil and Hazel have a spa day the next morning! Comfy beds, huge baths all to themselves in their rooms. The bath picks up on Soleil’s stress as she mulls over her probable feelings for Lorelle, and bath bombs are added to the bath, as well as the shower to mimic rain. First bath in who knows how long!! :) (also it casted Calm Emotions on her LOL)

Soleil and Hazel get tailored for festival dresses. We later meet Lorelle and the others back at the ship to explain why we were out all night. Whole gang spends hours talking about plans going forward. Afterward, Soleil seeks out Lorelle to check on her again

(tw abuse, scars) Lorelle opens up to Soleil about her abusive ex boyfriend who has been messaging her a lot as of late. Soleil makes sure Lorelle knows how toxic he was and how she didn’t do anything wrong, and herself and the others will always be there for her. She asks Lorelle if her burn scars are because of him, and it’s confirmed. Soleil holds her wrist, and the scale markings flash with the color of Lorelle’s skin. At one point, Dalm and Enu interrupt to ask if there’s “romance happening.” They shoo them off, Lorelle talks about Hazel liking Soleil, Soleil disagrees and tells Lorelle how much she cares about her, they talk about Soleil’s uncle, and she finally heads to her own room at around 4 am.

Upon leaving, Soleil see’s Hazel’s raven familiar in the hall and says goodnight to him- in response, she hears her dead father say goodnight back. She immediately freezes and crouches in front of the raven VERY confused, and gets her eyebrow pecked for it.

While Soleil sleeps in the morning, the Imperial Guard arrive to collect Dimitri (who was sedated and still passed out). It goes off without a hitch, but very quickly after he’s gone, the group needs to decide if they flee or stay, in case Dimitri turns them in when he inevitably wakes up. We get Dalm out and hide Princess Enu under the floor plating.

Guards arrive on the claim that we harbored a vampire, we let them search the ship thinking we’re fine, but they find evidence of things we forgot to clean up (whoops). While we’re manacled, Lorelle’s ex, Lindon, shows up with a group of cultists and start attacking the guards; he came here with the intent of saving Lorelle

SOLEIL GETS BADASS COMBAT TIME! Hazel goes down and Lorelle is on one hit point; Soleil scoops up Hazel and urges Lorelle onto the ship, still trying to keep her away from her Lindon. He insists he can take them to a hideout that’s away from imperial reach. Soleil is pissed and hates his guts, but doesn’t have time for bickering and wants to use him to keep the guards off of us for as long as possible. With Lorelle’s permission, he and his gang get on the ship with us as we leave.

Some party drama with Hazel, leaving Soleil to be incredibly pissed at her for quite awhile. Soleil sticks with Lorelle at all times so she can never be alone with Lindon. Soleil takes the ship to sub-orbital until they all decide what to do. She takes Lorelle to the medbay to help patch her up.

Sinnafex tells Soleil they could vent the cultists and Lindon from the ship if they really want to; Soleil considers it. Soleil leaves to go secretly move Enu back to her room without the new company seeing. She returns to the medbay while Hazel and Lorelle talk

Soleil gets the hideout from Lindon, and passes on the message that he wants to talk with Lorelle one on one. Soleil offers to go with and Lorelle accepts. The talk goes nowhere with Sol there; she argues with Lindon until Lorelle holds her wrist. Soleil squeezes her hand very hard. They leave, and Sol asks if she wants company for the night. Lorelle says yes

While Soleil gets things ready for bed, she realizes Lorelle has been gone for awhile and finds Lorelle and Hazel hugging, Hazel’s huge void of a scar transferred to Lorelle. Soleil waits a whole hour there for them before they leave the vision; they saw Lorelle’s mom (who we thought was dead) working with Soleil’s uncle

Hazel and Lorelle cry themselves to exhaustion, passing out, and Soleil hauls them to the bridge, asking Dalm if he can help grab pillows and blankets from everyone’s room for a huge comfy pile in the bridge where no one has to be alone. Since Dalm is a vampire, Soleil asks him if he could stay up the night while they sleep so that the cultists don’t do anything; he agrees

Dalm grabs Soleil’s hand and tells her that she’s doing a great job, and it’s okay if she needs to cry too; Soleil says “we’ll see.” He gives her a kiss on the forehead and brushes his hand through Soleil’s hair while she sleeps with the other two

LEVEL UP!!! Soleil multiclasses into Hexblade Warlock (5 rogue levels, 1 warlock level)! She takes Eldritch Blast, Sword Burst, Hellish Rebuke and Hex. Flavor text moment, Soleil learned all of her warlock abilities from Sinnafex

(cw light implied nsfw) The next morning, Soleil wakes up first and feels a weight lift off of her; Sinnafex was laying on top of her and he “wakes up”, claiming that “last night was so fun~” (even though nothing happened). Soleil tells him he’s very funny and sits there unamused while he moves to straddle her instead

He says Lorelle is cute, he doesn’t mind sharing. Since him and Soleil are the only ones up, he proposes that they could just go kill the cultists right now- throwing in a “You’re so pretty in the morning… can we go kill that guy now?” Soleil refuses, saying as much as she wants to, it’s not her decision alone. He dramatically falls back, exasperated, and calls Soleil boring

Lorelle wakes up next and tells Soleil about what her and Hazel saw. Hazel wakes up after, immediately leaving the pile.

The space station from before messages the ship again, offering a place to stay if our ship is currently too small.

Soleil goes to get breakfast from the kitchen, Dalm is there cooking, as well as Enu who excitedly tells Soleil that she found the CANNABIS OPTION ON THE FOOD REPLICATOR. Soleil and Enu have an interesting talk about how to limit those snacks as well as energy drinks

Soleil puts a hand on Dalm’s arm and thanks him sincerely for the night prior; he turns the move into a hug and says it’s okay. He asks Enu to go grab his dagger from his room since he forgot it. When she leaves, Dalm pulls away from the hug but still keeps close; “I don’t know what you’re doing to me. I was sent here to assassinate you and now I’m here cooking for you and- and I like it? Did you put a curse on me or something?”

Soleil laughs, telling him they’re all just becoming better friends, and maybe he likes some sort of domestic life more than he thought. She grabs breakfast for everyone and he gives her arm a squeeze as she leaves

Lorelle asks how Soleil slept, Sinnafex makes a comment to Sol about “sleeping between two beautiful women.” She wants to strangle him. She tells Lorelle and Hazel about her earlier visit from Sinnafex but nothing else

Hazel leaves to “give the lovebirds space,” Soleil and Lorelle talk and Sinnafex keeps butting in, telling Soleil to “cut the bedroom eyes.” He gradually makes more teasing and inappropriate comments and Soleil gets more and more flustered, busying herself with the controls on the board- Lorelle knows Soleil is talking to Sinnafex because Soleil stops to respond telepathically.

Lorelle asks Soleil to accompany her on trying to talk to Lindon again, Soleil agrees. Sol takes a moment at the bridge to mentally scream at Sinnafex while Lorelle grabs some things. Lindon agrees to only talk business while Soleil is present, no personal talks. We talk plans with Lindon and then talk about all of our options with everyone

Soleil accompanies Lorelle for her talk with Lindon one more time. Lorelle squeezes Soleil’s hand and says it’ll be okay if Soleil just waits in the doorway, per Lindon’s request. Soleil begrudgingly goes with it. She listens to them catch up and discuss their past, gradually getting more irritated but keeping to herself. Lindon eventually calls Soleil back in when they finish talking.

Soleil and Lorelle leave, talk about it a little before Dalm comes over with slices of cake. He advises Lorelle to go get some sleep, then waits until she’s left to ask Soleil if she listened in; “Of course I did.” “Of course you did. I’m almost disappointed in you.” Dalm says that some people need to figure things out on their own, without their friends with them. Soleil argues that Lorelle wanted her there and that Sol wanted to make sure Lorelle didn’t get hurt. Dalm asks if Soleil thinks she ever cares ä bit too much, Soleil says maybe, and Dalm makes an offhand comment about Soleil being in love with Lorelle- Soleil shuts it down very quickly, flustered; she says no, no, no, and Dalm asks if that means he has a chance. Soleil, assuming he’s joking around, gives him a laugh before parting

Sinnafex tells her “Oh my… this is going to get interesting.” Soleil asks what he means, but he refuses to tell her unless she lets him take control of her just once; Soleil quickly shoots it down

(META GAME MOMENT: WE HAVE CONFIRMED DALM DEFINITELY HAS A CRUSH ON SOLEIL)

The gang goes ahead and makes it to the space station. Dalm asks Soleil if he can go walk along the moon, she agrees to let him out and watch him from the airlock. Before they go, he says they need to have a talk about “romance”, not between Soleil and Lorelle but someone else… HEAVILY hints to Princess Enu having a crush on Soleil- she keeps her diary a secret around Dalm and he once saw her draw a heart with initials in it around some runes. Soleil is STUNNED and thinks he’s got it wrong

(tw nsfw implication, slight manipulation?) While Dalm is gone, Soleil asks Sinnafex if the reveal about Enu was his “surprise,” Sinnafex says OBVIOUSLY not and calls Soleil boring. He shows himself again, this time standing in front of her, hand against the wall behind her and leaning close. He suggests hooking up, Soleil declines while assuring him that she’s fine. He holds her chin getting closer, insisting that it would be good for Soleil to get some “practice” to no longer be a virgin. Soleil mentions being interested in someone else, and he bugs her about it until Soleil confirms that it’s Lorelle. He says again that he doesn’t mind sharing, and asks if he can at least get a kiss. Soleil huffs, frustrated, and only gives him a kiss on the cheek before focusing back on letting Dalm back into the station. Dalm says she should go out there with him sometime.

Next day, Soleil tries her hand at an old Ancient One RPG on a game console that’s aboard! swag

Third day, Sinnafex bugs Soleil while she tries to sleep; “I’m trying to fucking SLEEP!” “And I’m trying to FUCKING!” Soleil later accidentally walks in on Hazel letting Dalm have some of her blood while trying to find the bathroom because he had been growing weak.

Fourth day, Enu approaches Soleil and asks if she’ll go with her to see the station’s fire elemental; Enu wants to learn from it since it’s her specialty, and Soleil understands the whole conversation. It goes on for a few hours before Enu starts to get tired, yawning and exhausted. Soleil says they should get her to bed, and Enu asks “Would you carry me?” While Soleil’s caught off guard, Enu panics saying it was a dumb thing to ask, DEAD SPRINTS back to her room

Soleil and Lorelle meet up while Soleil is heading back from her time with Enu. Lorelle asks how Soleil is and talks about a random dating sim game that the AI recommended for her- Soleil finds it funny and admits to having played that game ages ago back in her timeline. They walk and talk about everything, ending up in a small lounge/sitting area.

Out of nowhere, Sinnafex takes control of Soleil (failed wisdom save), making her grab Lorelle’s hands and tell her how lonely they looked. Soleil gets control again and immediately panics. Sinnafex bugs her while Soleil becomes a bumbling mess of apologies for how sudden it was, getting more flustered by the second.

(cw nsfw implication, manipulation kinda from Sinnafex again) Lorelle tucks Soleil’s hair behind her ear, asking if she’s okay. Sinnafex keeps pushing her and Soleil finally says “This might be… very inappropriate of me to ask. But can I… kiss you…?” Lorelle says yes, and they kiss. Sinnafex takes control again, meaning more kisses, having Soleil put her hand on Lorelle’s thigh and asking if she wants to go further; Lorelle declines

Soleil gets control back and FREAKS out because that’s absolutely NOT WHAT SHE WANTED TO DO. Lorelle tucks Soleil’s hair again, gives her a kiss on the forehead, and tells Soleil she needs better control over Sinnafex; Soleil VERY MUCH agrees. Lorelle suggests getting food, Soleil says she’ll meet her at the cafeteria and goes to her room.

Soleil full on screams into her pillow for a good minute and yells at Sinnafex who shows himself again, with celebratory wine and his tie undone. Soleil argues with him incessantly, he makes fun of her for only just having her first kiss, and abruptly moves in front of Soleil to hold her chin again and kiss her this time, pulls back saying “That’s what a kiss should be.”

Soleil finally leaves, incredibly frustrated (more so when he slaps her ass on the way out JFC), and eventually meets back up with Lorelle. Soleil doesn’t know, but the kiss from Sinnafex created a charming effect on Lorelle, making her even more infatuated with Soleil. For the rest of the night, they get food, talk, and only share kisses before calling it a night at one of their rooms.

SOLEIL GOES TO THE DREAMVERSE! Sinnafex visits Lorelle’s mind while Soleil is gone, telling Lorelle about how Soleil’s soul just disappears sometimes. They talk, and when Lorelle asks Sinnafex to step off with the relationship stuff, Sinnafex explains that he is with Soleil for everything she does; their traits rub off on each other and some bit of him will always be present. He takes the form of a woman again and tries to seduce Lorelle but to no avail. Sinnafex also saves Lorelle from her own shadow demon.

DREAMVERSE TIME!! Soleil feels nostalgic with all the talk of families, so she visits her dad’s memories- but it’s more like visiting his own personal heaven since he’s dead. Soleil watches her dad push her and Lucas on swings at a park, Soleil was a toddler at the time while Lucas was slightly older. He pushes them high on the swings, saying he always knew Soleil and Lucas would fly high. Soleil sees her mom with her dad too.

As Sol leaves the space, she’s presented with the option to go deeper into it. She does, and this time she’s on the swing and not watching herself. Instead of flying off the swing into the air, Soleil lands with a thud into the sand, and her dad immediately becomes confused, thinking he somehow broke the space, saying this isn’t how the memory is supposed to happen. Soleil turns towards him; “…Dad?” “Soleil?” They both realize it’s real, they’re really together, and her dad scrambles over to bring her into a hug. Soleil immediately breaks down, and he tells her how much he’s missed her, how he doesn’t understand what’s happening, and doesn’t know if Soleil died or not. Soleil explains it’s just a thing she can do, and they move to the swings to talk. He asks her what it was like visiting a new galaxy, and reveals that while he’s here, he can view parts of Soleil’s life as they happen, but he’s behind and viewing them in random order. He asks if Soleil has gotten with Tomas yet, that’s what he was banking on, and Soleil admits to have kissing Lorelle that night. Soleil asks him if he knows where Lucas is, and he doesn’t, but he knows about what happened to Soleil’s uncle. While we talk, an older version of Hazel shows up, a version of her where she became a champion of the Raven Queen. She tells Soleil that she can’t be there, has to leave before the others find out. Soleil hugs her dad tight, tells him she loves him, and he loves her too, telling her that she’ll always fly so, so high. The space fades as the sand falls away.

Soleil tries checking on her mother next. Her father told her that she was currently doing something in the North Pole, but not sure what. Soleil tries to see, but not strong enough to get in.

Soleil tries checking on Lucas, hoping to pry her way in to figure out what happened to him. She’s not strong enough here, either, but instead gets tossed into someone else’s mind- her brother’s significant other. She’s with him on a beach, holding his hand, and she asks to hear about Soleil again. He replies “You mean that greedy, self important little trouble maker? … She did always have a sense of humor.” He starts to cry and she comforts him, telling him she understands.

Soleil gets pushed out of the memory, but once again gets the option to go deeper in. She follows the path, and ends up at not the beach but instead a firey battlefield, scattered with ships Soleil doesn’t recognize. Soleil stands on the bow of a starship with a sword pointed at her by the same person, demanding to know who Soleil is. Soleil is still crying from before, and desperately explains that she’s Lucas’ sister. The figure is confused at first but eventually comes around, asking Soleil what happened to the St. Marianne. Soleil explains that the ship was destroyed, and that she ended up here and was found. She starts to tell Soleil that the Order has invaded, they’re at the Gateway, and Soleil needs to bring reinforcements. She struggles to think of the word, then says in French, “the many is one” so that Soleil can understand. Soleil mentions having been in cryosleep for 3,000 years, so she doesn’t understand the war, and the figure is confused on how that can be because the battle has only gone on for 15 minutes. Before Soleil can say anything, the setting resets- the figure moves back to pointing the blade at Soleil, repeating herself in demanding to know who Soleil is. Soleil realizes that they’re stuck in a TIME LOOP.

The memory fades away, and instead, Soleil sees the universe in front of her like she has before, it speaks to her again; “This is what will happen if you free him. Your brother. Freeing him from the gateway will cause cataclysm. The Nine will stand. They will not fall to foreign invaders. Your destiny… the reason you were the one who survived the St. Marianne was to prevent ragnarok. You are a soldier. You are ours. Prepare yourself.”

Soleil suddenly wakes up, alone in her room, Lorelle missing from the bed- instead there is only a trail of black ichor leading out of the room. Soleil quickly gets up, following the trail all the way to the airlock- where she sees Lorelle passed out on the floor, surrounded by the ichor at the brink of life, and her shadow demon pinned to the wall by Sinnafex’s webs.

End of session! If anyone reads all this, I hope you enjoy this LENGTHY summary and feel free to hand over any questions about Soleil or the campaign :)

#oc: soleil #dungeons and dragons #d&d campaign #d&d character #dnd character #holy shit this took me hours to rewrite #hope u guys enjoy xoxo #trin talks #super long post

3 notes · View notes

ineloqueent · 5 years ago

Text

Starstruck: Part 1

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 1 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, of the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Prologue / Part 2

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.

Warnings: swearing, drinking (nothing heavy, just the usual British amount hahaha)

Historical Inaccuracies:

Brian’s eyesight was (as far as I know, feel free to correct me..?) perfectly fine in the 1970s; he did not need glasses, but hey, I needed a plot device. Rog, as we know was (and is) the one with terrible eyesight

There is no wall outside of the Union Pub, however, there is a green area with grass and trees and the occasional flower :)

Word Count: 5.8k

‧⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

6 MONTHS EARLIER

The curly haired boy always held the door for everyone. Everyone. Bloody everyone.

You were studying at Imperial College in London, a prestigious place that you supposed was ideal for the material you were learning, though you felt intimidated by the place and nearly everyone there. You were a rural girl, and the city was big and bright and terrifying in comparison. But all the same, you loved the thrill that came with living in London, the energy that seemed to hum beneath every day in a way that you had never felt in the quiet country life. And now you were finally studying what you had always wanted to study: astrophysics.

The curly-haired boy always got to the lecture first and stood there holding open the door, tall and graceful and effortlessly pretty. You’d always found him pretty.

He barely spoke at all during classes, but when he held that door open tirelessly every morning, he was radiant. Amicable and eloquent, he traded stories of shooting stars he’d seen when too many cups of coffee had kept him up into the wee hours of the morning, Jimi Hendrix records he’d found at the record shop down the road, jokes about the volume of his hair.

Everyone liked the boy at the door, both girls and boys. Though, when affections were involved— and there were many instances of this— he seemed entirely oblivious. Instead, he ended up raving on about something niche within his drabbles of Einsteinian theories and black holes to the poor, infatuated soul who had simply wanted to discuss the fact that they saw the stars in his eyes, rather than in the heavens.

You’d never said more than two words to him, though. A ‘thank you’ every day, for which you earned a nod and, more often than not, a warm smile. Occasionally you bid him a ‘good morning’, which he returned brightly and easily. He was a nerd from his curls to clogs, and yet, his cool was impeccable, his awkwardness masked by the passion for the subjects of which he talked.

But one day, the curly-haired boy was not holding the door. Every student who passed through the door either frowned or murmured concernedly. The boy at the door was not there— the balance of the universe had tipped disturbingly far from equilibrium.

Instead, he rushed into the lecture hall nearly twenty minutes late.

Your eyes briefly met his when you looked up for the fiftieth time to search for him in a crowd of people where he previously could not have been found. His collar was crooked, his denim jacket had hiked the bottom of his shirt halfway up his stomach to display a thin band of pearly skin, the bottom of one trouser leg was cuffed, and he was wearing only one sock with his white clogs.

Your fingers itched to fix that collar; it bothered you immensely that it sat so jauntily.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologised his way to his seat.

Your professor, Dr. Carmichael, raised his eyebrows at the curly haired boy. “Mr. May,” he said, a heavy undertone of disapproval in his voice.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I’m late,” said the boy, now known to you as May, gravely. “Won’t happen again.”

“Should hope not,” said Dr. Carmichael sternly, returning to the chalkboard.

May assumed his usual spot, which of course had been saved for him, even in his absence. The spot was in the row immediately in front of you, two seats to the left of your own.

A hushed mutter was heard as people all around him questioned his earlier whereabouts, both to his face and behind his back.

Your professor turned around again from where he was etching a long and complicated derivation on the chalkboard whilst students hurriedly copied his work down, pretending to understand what it was they were writing.

You crossed your legs, relaxed where you leaned back in your chair; you understood the derivative that the others did not.

You absently wound a lock of hair around the end of your pencil, and your eyes strayed to May, who squinted at the board as though he couldn’t see what was on it. Perhaps he couldn’t. Maybe that was why he sat so far forward in the hall, being neither a question-asker nor a pet of the professor’s. You frowned, wondering why he didn’t just ask to switch spots with someone, being so well-liked and all.

A couple of hours later, the lecture finished, and people swept from their seats all around you. They swarmed to May in clinging crowds, and their words buzzed heavily on the air, though you could not catch the first name of the boy May. You shrugged inwardly as you stayed seated while the crowd thinned out— the name May suited him well, even on its own, drenched in elegance and the flowering warmth of Spring.

Before long, you refocused your eyes on the scene around you to find that there were no people at all, save for your professor who now stood staring at you with mild concern mingled in his weathered features.

“Doing alright, Miss Andrews?” he asked, tossing a chalk stump into the bin by his desk.

You blinked rapidly, trying to bring back the dignity you’d lost by staring blankly at the chalkboard for the past minute or so.

“Just fine, thanks,” you said, beginning to pick up your things and throw them into your bag, which you then shouldered.

“Understand the derivation okay?” Dr. Carmichael looked to you from where he stood on the lecture hall floor, the acoustics of the room carrying making his voice easily heard.

“Yes,” you said honestly. “I seem to be better at those than the actual physics, though.”

Dr. Carmichael smiled. “You’ve got the skill set, Miss Andrews. All you need is practice, if your semester exam was any indication.”

You winced, feeling foolish.

Seeing your expression, Dr. Carmichael shook his head. “No, no,” he said, “that’s a good thing. Your mathematics are not lacking, and I can tell that you work hard in order to have it be that way. Your downfall exists conceptually, but, like your mathematics, your interest in the subject material is passionate. That is something which no one can teach, and that is why you will go far in this field, should you choose to continue.”

His comment made you swell with pride— who wouldn’t when an accomplished individual complimented you for that which they themselves had already mastered?

“Thank you, Dr. Carmichael,” you said.

“Anytime. Enjoy your holidays,” he responded, referring to the couple of weeks off which the university afforded you all every February.

“Thanks, you too.”

“And don’t forget the test on the Tuesday after,” he reminded you kindly.

You nodded to him, then made your way out of the row and toward the door.

“And get some glasses, Mr. May!” Dr. Carmichael shouted, and you jumped at the sound because you had thought he was shouting after you.

But it was only to May, who stood silhouetted in the doorway that led out of the musty lecture hall and into the dappled sunshine of noon.

You saw his curly head bob. “Yes, Dr. Carmichael.”

“Good lad,” said the professor to May, and you reached the door where the latter stood.

“Thank you,” you said as a form of greeting to May; he was holding the door for you, though you were the last to leave and no other student was in sight.

“It’s only right, seeing as I missed earlier,” his lashes fluttered against the bright sunlight, eyes trying to adjust.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” you replied as the door shut behind him and he began to walk beside you, shortening the steps his long legs should have taken, in order to keep pace with you.

“But I did,” he said. “Now the balance of the universe has been restored.”

You laughed.

“Which way are you going?” he asked, glancing down at you, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“That way,” you pointed ahead.

He smiled bemusedly. “Me too. I’ve never taken another route to my next class. Odd that we’ve never run into each other on the way.”

You may not have run into each other, but you’d certainly seen him, heard his laughter as people told him their adventures because he was simply a person you could tell those sorts of things to. His head was in the clouds, but when it counted, he listened. You’d learned that much from observation. Not that you observed frequently, just whenever he happened to cross your line of sight. Or your train of thought. Which seemed to be more often than you’d have preferred to admit.

“Yeah, odd,” you responded distractedly.

“You’re always thinking,” he said.

You felt suddenly snappy. “What? Should I not be? Being a woman and all?”

May raised his hand, the one that wasn’t supporting his books, in surrender. “No, not like that at all. Sorry if it sounded that way. I just meant that I do that too,” he professed. “People think I feel some sense of superiority, or that I’m stupid, but really, I’m just thinking, and I thought I saw that in you, too.”

Lines ran through your forehead as you struggled to figure out how it was that you were supposed to respond to this.

May sighed beside you as you hugged your books closer to your chest, your eyes abandoning his face for the laid-brick path ahead of your feet.

“I’m terribly awkward, I must apologise,” he said. “I just… Never mind.”

But you wanted to hear what he had to say. It was obvious that he was simply interested in making conversation with you, and if you were honest, you wanted to talk to him too.

“No, go on,” you encouraged him. “Tell me why it is that you need glasses and yet don’t have any, or why you don’t just move closer to the board so you can actually see it.”

A flush touched his cheeks, and his hand tousled his messy curls further.

“Broke the last pair and got no room in the budget to get another.”

“Ah,” you said in understanding, knowing full well the tightrope life of a student in London. “And not moving closer to the front?”

His colour deepened. “Embarrassed. Dislike having that many eyes on me.”

You glanced up at him. “That’s very frank of you,” you said, candor letting genuine surprise slip into your voice.

“Really? I just think I’m a bit of an open book, by nature. Anyone could read me if they tried. Simplistic.”

“That sounds rather self-deprecating,” you told him.

“I don’t know—” he stopped talking when he noticed you turning right where he had made to turn left.

“Oh,” the two of you said in unison, then blushed upon finding your thoughts had mingled.

“I’m going left,” he smiled apologetically, pointing a slender finger over his shoulder.

“I’m going right,” you returned his sunny expression.

“See you later?”

“Doorway, tomorrow at ten,” you nodded.

He laughed softly, the sound infectious as the corners of his eyes crinkled and he touched a hand to the side of his face.

“Always. Won’t ever be late again.”

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but you thought he winked at you then. Your cheeks warmed.

He was leaving when a thought occurred to you, and the question beat against the side of your mind, begging to be asked.

“Hey, astrophysicist boy,” you called after him. He turned, eyebrows raised and pointing to himself as he mouthed, Me?

“Yeah, who else?” You looked around, trying to downplay the adrenaline that rushed through you at the amount of confidence you currently embodied. His presence made you feel a strange exhilaration, akin to the kind that usually ensues when one hears two melodies harmonise perfectly.

So you asked your question.

“Want to go for a drink sometime?”

The sun was peculiarly brilliant for this February day, beating down hotly on your neck and shoulders. The trees around you held their breath, their leaves motionless for once, as May held your gaze.

Finally, he smiled, looked down at his feet, looked back up at you.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”

You nodded, then hurried down the path before he could discover what a mistake he’d made in even talking to you in the first place.

Two minutes later, you realised that it was you who had made the mistake: he knew neither your name nor where to find you. You looked back in the direction from which you’d come, but he was nowhere to be seen.

You closed your eyes in dismay.

Oh well. It was probably for the best that you only saw him in the mornings. He’d soon have found out that you weren’t made of the same ethereal matter as he.

Still, as you walked quietly to your next lecture, you mourned the loss of a possible friendship, and the fact that you would now not see him for two whole weeks.

‧⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

The string snapped against your poised fingers.

“Ah!” you cried, pulling back and letting the guitar fall to your lap. “The fuck,” you muttered, pressing your fingers against your lips. Your mum had always kissed everything better when you had been little, as many mothers did, and the habit of replicating this had never faded.

You sighed and stared at the red mark that slashed across your fingertips. You didn’t need anything more to discourage you; you felt incompetent enough as it was.

You’d been playing electric guitar for a total of seven months, and your progress was little. You couldn’t afford lessons, and though your dad played guitar, you lived an hour from your parents’ place and couldn’t very well make a trip to see him every time you needed some pointers.

No, your dad was in the country, and you were in the city, and you had resorted to books to teach you most things, even if many of them were slow and overly technical in their teachings.

You sighed again. Then your eyes snapped to the door as one of your many housemates— you had ten— burst into the room, the door rattling against its frame.

“Hi Heather,” you said.

“Jesus, fuck,” Heather hissed under her breath, hopping around on one foot as she cradled the toes of the other.

You laughed.

“New boyfriend?”

Heather fell down onto her bed that stood across from yours. Rent was incredibly expensive in London, so no one in the house was even able to occupy their own room; you shared in twos, except for Amélie, Jenny, and Kate, who had drawn the short straws of a three-person room. If someone brought home a date, the roommate of that person would share a room with others for the night, turning up with a spare mattress and an apology in hand. It seemed to work, though. Unfortunately for you, Heather brought home many a boy, or girl, or person, and did so quite often. You therefore found yourself apologising to the rest of the household quite frequently.

Heather grinned at you, pulling the sock off of her stubbed toes. “He’s positively heavenly in bed,” she joked.

You smiled. Trust Heather to come up with a good pun.

“How’s the guitar playing going?” she asked, her eyes meandering back up from where they had been examining her injury.

“About that…” you said. “Broke a string just now.”

“So you play hard rock, then, quiet girl,” said Heather, a note of amusement in her voice.

You flicked your guitar pick at her, and it hit her square on the nose.

“Hey!” said Heather. “Injured, remember?”

You shrugged. “You attacked me first. Had it coming.”

Heather narrowed her eyes at you. “Just watch out when the 1st of April rolls around, ‘kay, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes and lay back on your bed, amber guitar in your lap, arms out to the sides, eyes on the ceiling.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Heather leaned against the wall, “why is it I’ve never heard you play?”

You groaned and shut your eyes. “Because I’m a fucking mess,” you said.

“Better than a virgin mess.”

“Heather! Don’t be crude.”

“Prim.”

“Oh shush.”

“Fancy a drink, then?” said Heather, looking at you rather pityingly.

You sat up. “Yeah, why not?”

“Just this once, then,” Heather winked.

You took the guitar from your lap and returned it to its place, a stand beside your bed. You stood a moment, admiring the beauty of the instrument, from the colours to the craftsmanship it must have taken to make it. You only wished you could play it better than you did. Your poster of Jimi Hendrix seemed to gaze at you mournfully through its glossy paper eyes as you thought this, and you began to feel even sorrier for yourself.

“Get dressed, then, Princess,” Heather’s voice wrenched you from your sad little reverie.

You faced her and frowned. “I am dressed.”

Heather observed your ragged jumper and loose trousers. “Wear something that shows you off a bit, gorgeous.”

“You flatter me,” you said dryly.

“’S what I’m here for, Y/N! Kitchen in ten.” Heather sashayed out of the room.

Shutting the door, you examined your wardrobe.

You chose an orange top embroidered here and there with tiny white flowers, paring it with black bell bottoms and platform high-heeled boots.

It would have to do.

‧⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

You were downstairs in the ten minutes you had promised, and Heather cooed upon seeing you.

“Lovely, Princess,” she said. “Just a couple of criticisms—”

She pulled at the string that held the little collar of your blouse together, letting it fall open a bit, fluffed your hair, and swiped lipgloss across your lips.

“You’re blazin’, Y/N,” Heather was practically glowing with pride, as though you were her little sister. Sure enough, Heather pretended to dab at her eyes, “All grown up, baby.”

“And I was only five yesterday,” you said dramatically, earning another grin from your friend.

“Let’s rock and roll, then,” Heather linked your arms and pulled you out the door.

‧⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

The bar was stiflingly hot, and for 10 PM in February, it felt like summer.

The Union was crowded because it was a Friday night, and the place hummed with chatter, laughter, clinking classes, and some band playing a blues gig on the small stage that lay to one side of the pub.

Heather rapped on the wood of the bar top when you reached it, despite the fact the pub was overcrowded and the employees working the bar were rushing back and forth like madmen.

The head barman waved another customer off and walked up to you and Heather to a chorus of shouting and bickering about who had been at the bar first.

“Hey, Brendan,” said Heather.

“Hiya, Heather,” Brendan returned. He was Heather’s cousin and therefore was always happy to serve you two before any of the twenty-something-year-old drunkards who occupied the few barstools crammed into the corner where the main bar held its court. “Y/N,” he nodded to you.

“Brendan,” you said awkwardly. Heather sniggered beside you. Brendan had been keen on you, and Heather had even tried to set you up with him once, but he wasn’t really your type, and you also very obviously had nothing in common with each other.

“Usual?” he asked the both of you.

Heather looked to you for your approval. “Yep, just that,” you nodded.

“Coming right up.”

Heather leaned back against the bar and stared down anyone who tried to make her move. You were less assertive and ended up standing in front of Heather after some already-tipsy girl had pushed you out of the way, tilting dangerously on her too-high platforms.

“Hey, move outta the way a second,” Heather patted your shoulder and you took a step to the right. She’d straightened her posture from slouch to regality, and she ran a hand through her glossy hair.

“See something you like?” you said, following her line of sight.

“More like someone. Don’t wait up, hun.” Heather sauntered off and you rolled your eyes.

Brendan chose that moment to return with your drinks.

“Gin tonic and a beer,” he announced. “Where’s Heather?”

You shrugged. “She made a beeline for some guy. Blonde, blue-eyed, pretty, smoking a cigarette. I’ll take those,” you gestured to the drinks, wondering whether or not it was a good idea to drink them both in a matter of minutes. You’d felt glum ever since this afternoon, and you couldn’t have said why.

“That’s Heather,” shrugged Brendan, handing you the drinks and returning to his busy post at the bar.

You sighed, looking around and trying to spot a place to sit down; you realised you felt more like drinking alone than in a crowded bar.

There were people everywhere, so you decided it was probably easier to find a place to sit by walking around a bit.

The Union was rowdy tonight, and more than once you bumped into someone, nearly sloshing the drinks to the floor. Nearly.

You suddenly spied a table and a pair of rickety-looking chairs in a corner, and hurried toward it.

Just as you made it to the chair, another person pulled it out for himself.

Your shoulders slumped. This was exactly what you needed right now. A bloody chair-stealer.

You made to leave.

“Oh, no, sorry. You sit,” said the tall boy who had pulled out the chair, offering it to you.

There was something familiar about that voice. You turned around. Your face brightened immediately.

“Hiya, May!”

“Miss Andrews?” he said, and you nodded.

You put the drinks down on the table and he pushed your chair in as you sat down.

“Gentlemanly,” you remarked as he took the seat across from you, leaning his elbows on the tabletop.

He shrugged. “Common courtesy when a lady sits down.”

You frowned. “Not many people think like that.”

“And here I thought you were taking astrophysics and not psychology,” he shook his head.

“Majoring in astrophysics, minoring in psychology,” you corrected.

“Oh, really? That sounds interesting.” Then he held out his hand. “I’m Brian, by the way.” His smile was small, but you could tell it was genuine, from the way the expression wholly overtook his face.

“I’m Y/N,” you took his hand. “Hello, properly, I suppose.”

“Hello properly to you too, Y/N.”

You looked at the two condensation-covered glasses that sat in front of you. “Fancy that drink, Bri?”

He blinked at the nickname, but it had felt natural for you to say it, and he went with it.

“Celebrating the start of our holidays?” he said. “I’d love one. What’ve you got?”

“Just a regular draft beer,” you pushed it toward him.

“Sounds good,” he said, taking the glass and a sip. “Who was it meant for?” he asked, running a finger about the rim.

You tasted your own drink. It had the perfect amount of tonic to compliment the gin. One thing could be said for Brendan, at least: he knew how to make a drink.

“My friend Heather. But she’s gone off with some Casanova.”

Brian furrowed his brow, sipping his beer. “Please, dear God, tell me he wasn’t blonde and blue-eyed,” he muttered.

“You know,” you said with amusement, “he was.”

Brian covered his face with his hands. His words were muffled. “Was he a pretty-boy? And smoking a pack a day?”

“Uh, I don’t know how many packs he smokes a day, but that sounds about right, yeah. How’d you know?”

Brian groaned, leaning back in his seat. “That’s my friend. And you were right when you said Casanova.”

You smirked in the direction where you’d last seen Heather.

“She’s a bit of a femme fatale, to be honest,” you said, “so tell him to exercise caution.”

“Femme fatale?” Brian chuckled.

You raised your hands in surrender, “Her words, not mine.”

“Mm, must admit, I did find it slightly odd that you would betray your friend like that.”

“What’s to be said for you, agreeing with me that your friend is a Casanova?”

“You haven’t guessed?” he said.

You shook your head slowly.

“His words, not mine,” said Brian, and you laughed.

“Wow, we have a lot in common,” you declared.

“Do we?” he leaned forward again. “Tell me more.”

You swirled your gin tonic. “Well, we’re both studying astrophysics—”

“Say, are we really?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t need your sarcasm, Brian May.”

He pouted attractively. “Go on, then. What else do I not know? Indulge me.”

“Fine. You like Jimi Hendrix, I like Jimi Hendrix—”

“How’d you know that?” he said.

“Bri. You talk about dear ol’ Jimi all the time.”

“When?”

“Every morning you hold open the door.”

“Every day, really?”

“Every day. You can’t tell me you don’t have posters.”

Brian smirked faintly. “I do. Of him and of The Beatles.”

“Ah,” you raised a finger. “And we both like The Beatles.”

“You’d have to be insane not to.”

“Agreed,” you nodded enthusiastically. “You’re also very interested in relativity and dark matter, if your door-holding conversations are any indication.”

“You’re observant,” he remarked.

“As are you.”

“You flatter me,” he responded.

“No,” you said. “It’s the hair. It makes you more likeable.”

He laughed and shook his curls out, then glanced up at you from beneath them when they fell across his honey-coloured eyes.

You cocked your head to one side, the corners of your mouth turning upward.

He tried to blow his hair away from his eyes, but failed miserably several times.

The fifth time his endeavour failed, you couldn’t hold in your laughter any longer.

“Sorry,” you said without any real apology in your tone, and Brian huffed, tucking his curls away from his face.

“No you’re not,” said Brian.

“Yeah, no, I’m not,” you shrugged.

“This is bullying. I’ll have to take to day-drinking,” he picked up his glass and downed the last of the beer.

“Shame it’s already night.”

“Definitely bullying,” he tutted at you. He then motioned to your own empty glass. “Up for another one?”

“Yeah! Thanks,” you fumbled for your wallet, but Brian shook his head.

“My turn,” he said.

You smiled.

When he returned, he didn’t sit back down. “Let’s go outside,” he suggested. “Too loud and stuffy in here.”

You nodded and rose from your seat. He carried your drinks and you hoped you carried yourself with confidence as you left the pub for the summer-like evening.

“Strange weather we’re having,” Brian commented, looking up at the sky.

“Yeah,” you agreed, following his line of sight to where they rested on the stars. Or where the stars should have been, anyway. There were very few to be seen in London; the light-pollution overwhelmed Mother Nature’s own glittering display.

Brian handed back your re-filled drink absently, eyes still on the heavens.

“Thanks.”

“It’s a shame we can’t see more than this,” he said, his voice wistful and soft as he stared into the deep blue above your heads.

“It is,” you murmured.

He beckoned with one hand, only momentarily looking away from the sky, and you followed him to the brick wall that separated the pub from a park path. Flowerpots were haphazardly arranged atop the wall, and Brain frowned, finally tearing his gaze from the stars to set his drink on the ground.

“Help me, will you?” he asked, eyeing the flowerpots.

You nodded, freeing your hands of your glass.

Brian leaned against the side of the wall, then tossed his long legs over the brickwork and hopped down from the short height. He held out his hands and you passed him pots, which he deposited on the ground on the other side.

Having cleared the wall, Brian mounted it again and crossed his legs. You picked up your drinks and handed him his.

He thanked you, at the same time that you attempted to climb up the brick and sit down beside him, using only one hand to support yourself. The latter was a grave mistake.

You tilted forward violently—

“Oye,” said Bri, grabbing your arm in an incredible feat of reflexes.

“Jesus,” you exhaled through your teeth. “Thank you.”

Bri chuckled. “You should thank me instead of Jesus.”

You made a face and shoved his shoulder, then remembered your almost-fall and laid your hand on his back before he too could lose his balance. His skin was warm beneath his knitted sweater.

He tutted at you, shaking his head, “And this is how you thank me.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to shut it before I actually do push you off of this stupid wall.”

“Not entirely stupid, though,” Brian clinked his glass against yours. “’S given us a spot to sit, away from the noisy people, hasn’t it?”

“And a vague view of that which we love best,” you had turned your eyes to the stars.

“Though not nearly enough.”

“What with this city’s extensive use of lights,” you said.

You could hear the thrum of music and the shouts of drunk people from behind you in the bar, and you glanced appreciatively at Brian for his quieter company.

“Two short-period comets have been discovered this year already,” he began conversationally.

“Far better than those long-period comets, with their damn 200-year perihelions.”

Brian positively beamed at you, as though you’d said exactly what he was thinking. “Yeah! Because if you miss those, then they’re just… gone.”

“Makes them a bit magical, though,” you mused.

“Once in a lifetime,” Brian agreed with a sigh. He asked out of the blue, “Do you have a telescope?”

You glanced at him. “No, why?”

“So that you can see the comets, when the journals release more specific dates for when they’ll pass Earth. Shame,” he continued, “some of them will be spectacular.”

“Some of them?”

“Unlikely that we’ll be able to see them all.”

“But they could still be spectacular, whether or not we see them,” you contended.

One corner of his lips turned upward. “But you won’t know until you actually observe them for yourself.”

“Okay, Schrödinger,” you laughed.

He smiled fully. “Great minds think alike.”

“They do,” you responded. “You and me, Bri. I’ll let you think I’m clever,” you said thoughtlessly.

“What?” Brian barked a laugh. “Think you’re clever? If you can understand those fucking awful derivatives, then you’re more than just clever.”

You scoffed. “Now you flatter me.”

“I can’t do those for the life of me,” Brian confessed.

“You can’t?!” you heard yourself cry.

“Alright, now you’re making me feel silly,” he scrunched up his nose cutely, then sighed.

“I didn’t mean to. It’s just pretty great that we’re friends if you’re piss-poor at derivations.”

“He-ey!” Brian uncrossed his legs, turning to you in indignation.

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologising for nothing.”

“Sorry— I mean, no. We’re friends?” he said.

“Has anyone ever told you how nice you are, Bri? If you didn’t want to be friends, you should have told me so before you started talking about the superiority of short-period comets.”

He threw his head back and really laughed this time, his skin glowing in the unobscured moonlight as his curls fell over his shoulders.

“Oh, you’re wonderful,” he remarked. “A wonderful friend. Of course we’re friends.”

“So back to you being horrible at derivatives—”

“Yes, and mind you, I haven’t forgotten how horribly rude you were about that,” he sniffed.

“— and how clever I am at them—”

“Now you flatter you.”

“You said it first,” you reminded him.

There was a pause.

“I could help you with derivatives,” you said.

He set down his glass and contemplated you with inquisitive eyes. “In exchange for..?”

The warm night breeze tickled your face and the air hummed like the electrons around you had broken away from their atomic shells. “What’re you offering?”

He was frightfully close to you, a slender hand’s breadth away. The trees whispered in the park across from the wall where the two of you sat dangling your legs, and the moon outlined Brian’s jaw, an aquiline nose, his cheekbones, the planes of his face.

You breathed in coffee, summer rain, books so old they could’ve been stardust themselves. Brian was all of these things, all of these things that you adored.

“What do you want… from me?” His whisper was breathless and soft and light, and felt like the first kiss of sunlight after the curtains had been closed to a thousand days of rain.

For one fleeting instant, you knew what you wanted. You often felt that you did not know what you wanted, but for just a moment, you knew, and you wanted it, terribly.

But then the strangling nerves that normally dictated your every action suddenly rewound themselves about your being, and tightened.

“I don’t know what I want,” you murmured in all earnesty, despite the line of his lips in the pale light, despite his gravitation toward you, despite everything that made him a constellation and you a star.

His breath hitched audibly and his eyes reflected galaxies in the darkness.

“I fear what I do.”

You melted. You melted because you understood. You understood what this starry-eyed boy meant, by fearing oneself, because with freedom there came uncertainty, and with uncertainty walked choice and mistakes and shame and darkness.

You felt so small in the universe.

“Be kinder to yourself, Brian.”

“I could say the same to you, Y/N.”

Lilies. He smelled of those too.

The night was warm; the stars felt young and pretty. You felt younger too.

A loud chiming interrupted the flower blooming over your heart, and Brian leapt back from where he had gravitated into your orbit.

Slowly, you pressed a palm to your chest, and Brian mistook your motion for surprise.

“Now, no falling off that wall,” he warned you.

You smiled, the expression involuntary and yet in existence.

“Not tonight, at least,” you promised.

Brian slid from the wall as Big Ben finished chiming twelve, and in the dimness of the park he brushed himself off; the little light there was seemed to shimmer at his edges, as though it were simply drawn to him.

“Time to go home, I think,” he said, extending his hand to you.

You slid your fingers into his grasp, and from the way his hands were soft but his fingers calloused, you wondered if he, like you, played guitar.

You hopped down from the wall, and like the ever-clumsy person you were, almost toppled over. You turned the blunder into a twirl instead, spinning dramatically with your arms above your head.

Brian laughed and initiated a waltz without a partner, his chin raised and his steps methodical but graceful.

You shook your head at him as you both began to traipse homeward.

At the turn of the path, you eventually parted ways, with Brian offering a bow to you as though the dance of earlier had ended. You followed suit. It was only right.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Bri.”

‧⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

A/N: as usual, send me an ask if you’d like to be put on the taglist!

taglist: @melting-obelisks @stardust-killer-queen @hgmercury39

Masterpost / Prologue / Part 2

#tina’s writing #starstruck #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #brian may x you #brian may fanfic #queen #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon #queen fanfiction #queen fanfic #1975 #1970s #fic

115 notes · View notes

fistsoflightning · 4 years ago

Text

10: words will not suffice

prompt: avail || masterpost || other fills || ao3 mirror

word count: 2111

Hien does not understand the Steppe as well as he thinks he does.

Spoilers for 4.4 MSQ, Steppe portion! Disclaimer: if you like Hien and don’t see any problem in what he does *both damn times* he goes to the Steppe in MSQ, you probably won’t like this much. I could probably go on for an entire post about Steppe headcanons and tidbits I just get Salty about, but I don’t think anybody would want to read me ranting wildly [/sweats]

In this past sun of serving as his moon’s right hand—not so much a burden as it is an annoyance, with how Oktai cannot speak, but his fair hand and open mind even with an Oronir in his bed is not one Magnai would trade for the simplicity of his time as reigning khagan—he has seen much. A conflict, once, between the Orben and Ejinn over the rivers and their bounties, and a minor conflict with Ura traders coming into Reunion with potentially volatile ores from the peaks that quickly turned into a threat when several Gesi hunters had bought the ores and turned the Steppe into a minefield overnight.

Oktai had handled those with grace, even with his sibling and fellow khagan away fighting wars for the Eorzeans they had cast their lot with. Hardly needed to wheedle respect from those who had seen him, either; he’d the same, unfortunate bleeding heart of his adoptive sisters, and the stubborn temper of Zaya within his breast, unable to let anyone go wanting despite their demands without bowing his head. It had taken a few guiding steps, Magnai leading for the first few turns of the moon, but so easily he had fell into it so long as someone could speak his wishes for him.

He’d hardly had the rancor he’d expected when Zaya came fumbling home to help their brother succeed in another Naadam, and even less surprised when the Steppe yet again claimed them both of the land, both khagan still. So few souls on the Steppe were possessed of such strong will; if he were Dotharl—never did he truly wish that, he thinks in a huff—he might think Oktai and Zaya two halves of a warrior’s soul. Perhaps the land itself thought the same, giving them the same rights usually won and worn by one.

This, Magnai thinks, stifling a sigh when he lifts his cup to his mouth to find the last dregs of his tea gone, is hopefully not the fall of Oktai from his well-deserved seat into a spiralling loss of control.

He has never seen Oktai so irritated as he does now, taking his pointer finger and sliding it across the side of his left hand for Magnai to see; his sign for when he needs meetings to end. Magnai wishes he could grant that wish, but seeing as how the lordling from Doma is still sitting resolutely at the other end of the table, Y’shtola of the Seventh Dawn seated by his side and Sadu—damned woman, demanding a spar before they could begin just to see if he deserved to be seated as the khagan’s aide—practically ready to sear lines into the table, he shakes his head. Oktai’s face falls momentarily, the light purple bags under his eyes from a fortnight spent resolving a sickness among the Gharl painfully obvious, but Hien clears his throat loud enough to snap Oktai back to attention.

Magnai, as much as he despises Sadu and her every way, cannot help but agree in her incredulous stare. The other khans and khatuns were right to leave under veil of browsing the stalls of Reunion, for the wants of their own tribes.

“The Oronir have no hand in this,” Magnai grouses as Oktai’s fingers tap irritatedly against the wooden table. By Azim’s grace, he will need a cup of tea after this, if not a skin of kumis to drown the bells he’s wasted speaking in circles with this stubborn man in. “But this is no matter of a single tribe. Still you manage to test us all.”

“My deepest apologies,” Hien says with the authority Magnai expected of a man raised into rulership. “but there is war on the horizon, and I would not suffer either of our lands being controlled due to a lack of communication.”

He does not scoff at his words—it is a very near thing—though a quick little smirk does emerge for a moment. Controlled. How self-aware is he, Magnai wonders, watching Y’shtola quietly side-eye her companion.

Oktai taps his arm, pulling his attention back to his hands; a few quick signs that Magnai hardly has the time to mull over, then a single finger held up, slowly pulled into a fist. Together.

He nods, and clears his throat, thoughts turning to weaving Oktai’s sentiments together in a way that doesn’t seem… dismissive. “As we have said, the House of the Crooked Coin falls under no sole tribe’s jurisdiction. It is a place deemed sacred to all those blessed by the Dusk Mother, from the most devout to even the Oronir, born as we are of the radiant Azim; She still deems us Hers, gifting this land with Her aether. The pillars in the Crooked Coin are no simple matter.”

“And by my reckoning, there is no issue should I gain permission from the other tribes, yes?”

Azim be merciful, he thinks, rubbing at the edges of the scales on his forehead. It is not even as noisy as the last few meetings Magnai had held as khagan in his rule, but he finds himself with a headache of the same manner regardless.

“Yes, but you—”

“You,” Sadu says, pointedly interrupting his train of thought; if Oktai had not laid his hand on his arm, a gentle hold on, let her speak in a single touch, surely this yurt would have devolved into messier infighting than that between a khagan and a king. “have not traveled far enough into our deserts to meet the Kagon; devout worshippers of the Dusk Mother. They will have your head for daring to suggest the thought, as would I. You mean to rush something that will easily take moons.”

The Dotharl khatun’s hands twitch against her arms, faintly gleaming with an abundance of fire aether that has Magnai wondering if he should call Daidukul to bring water.

Hien, ever blind, breaks the silence. “Cirina had told—”

Oktai’s low groan, accompanied by Magnai’s eyebrow twitching, is enough to stop Hien from continuing. The quiet noises of Reunion closing stalls and retiring fill the silence, uncomfortable as it is; a wonderful evening, wasted on hours of such tedious debate. Sadu looks distinctly unimpressed, because all his arguments, eventually, circle back to the Mol—and she lies in Cirina’s bed; this, Magnai understands well enough. The fire in Cirina’s eyes was not solely her own the last Magnai saw her, no longer wholly the ethereal maiden he’d thought he’d wanted, but even then.

“The Mol are… fearful, shall we say, of those with strength.” Sadu crosses her arms, glaring intensely at him. “Cirina is brave, yes, but not stupid. She knows who and who not to anger. Including…” She raises a hand, almost dismissively in manner, towards Hien. “You. Protector of her people when Nhaama’s child fell and shrouded our lands in smog. Warrior of the Mol, who fought valiantly for their safety during that Naadam two years past. She has led you to believe, perhaps—”

“That the other tribes might fall in line, yes. I suppose,” Hien pauses, tilting his head up to the ceiling. “‘Twould have been better if I’d brought Zaya along, perhaps. They’d seemed neutral to the plan, at most.”

Y’shtola, for the first time in several bells, clears her throat. “That was because they have been ignoring every word that spills from your mouth, not because of placid agreement.” Hien almost looks scandalized, in how his shoulders fall. “Forgive my interruption, I simply thought it prudent to be truthful than impressive.”

Oktai shakes his head in a pitying sort of way, frown hardset against his face from what little Magnai can see of his mouth from this angle, where his horns cover his expression.

“Leveraging the khagan with his sibling would not change the problem,” Magnai says, voice carefully measured.

“Then what would?” The Doman lordling comes forth with a renewed determination in his voice, despite how he scrabbles so for any foothold, any respect within this sole tent. “Surely we can come to compromise at least for long enough so I might consult with the other khans and khatuns, regardless of how long it takes. Surely you understand the dangers of the Garleans enough to—”

“Hien,” Y’shtola says, her voice a sharp, unforgiving breeze among the stifling atmosphere of the Qestiri yurt. “Enough. There is yet—”

“Is there?” Hien turns to his companion, and Oktai nearly slumps over the table, a sentiment Magnai himself reciprocates by crossing his arms firmly over his chest. How could two allies be so unable to reach a solid conclusion among themselves and hope to survive against the ironmen they fear so? “You had stated the lack of crystals in the Burn yourself; I’ve little reason to doubt there being no other deposit of aether nearby strong enough—”

Through Oktai’s hand, still resting atop his own, Magnai feels a shock of furious lightning crackle up his skin; not strong enough to harm but enough for him to know that when Oktai stands up in frustration and storms out of the yurt he has truly, finally hit his limit for the needless words of alliances and compromises from a ruler that has given no quarter, so used to his own homeland being drained of its own culture and sacred lands that he no longer sees wrong in doing the same to others subconsciously.

Magnai sighs in relief. He’d expected Oktai to allow this useless conversation to drag on longer.

“The khagan has spoken,” Magnai declares, standing from his seat. His tail aches something horrid when he stretches, kinks in his tail straightening out. The sun filters in slow through the crack in the canvas flaps, dust motes gleaming and covering Hien in a stark shadow as he remains seated. “If you truly think to convince all the tribes of your duty and its needs, first you must convince him.”

Hien’s brow furrows. “I had thought our discussion a long ways from over. The alliance?”

“The little sun has misspoken.” Sadu stands, and despite the insult Magnai is inclined to agree—he has, and now the Doman princeling has assumed. “Talks of alliances will wait. The khagan has left.”

“Certainly; quite rude of him, I might add.” Hien folds his hands in his lap, eyes misted over yet still hunter sharp, seeking a weakened point. “Has he not left his lands in danger, by denying us his approval before we have even begun to travel and visit the other khans and khatuns? Would he truly be so temperamental to quit the conversation ere we have truly begun?”

The harsh roll of Sadu’s eyes only serves to prove that, no, Magnai is not having some sort of nightmarish dream that if he pinches the scales on his nose hard enough he will awake in a Qestiri yurt instead. Shame that the only thing the two of them agree on is the merits of Oktai’s rule, and of how this discussion has long overgone its stay at this table.

Scratch the pot of tea. He will have to ask Taban for kumis if he wishes to rid himself of this horrible, horrible headache.

“If you cannot respect the time of the khagan and his people, you are not ready to speak of alliances,” he sighs. A shame; Hien is, rightfully, fit to be king—of his own people, of whom he has already earned the respect of, learned the needs and requests of like the back of his hand. “A full turn of the sun and still you have not learned, Doman, so I shall say it again.” He straightens to his full height, and Sadu barks out a laugh as she leaves the yurt, calling for Cirina and both their yols as she walks down the wooden steps. Hien, for his merit, does not turn to look bewildered at her, instead meeting Magnai’s stare.

“You have made mock of our ways since the very beginnings, Doman. Bardam’s Mettle is not a simple trial; our Naadam is not a little contest for you to win and tip the balance of our lands to win your wars. Even the Dotharl, respectful of warriors, have found you and yours wanting, and yet you continue to play at the role of magnanimous ruler. The Mol bow their heads to you out of respect for a savior and friend, not king; they let you live among them and you did not learn. Do not dare to presume so again,” he says, letting his voice rise and ring, and by the princeling’s side he sees Y’shtola shake her head. “Or you will find the khagan much less forgiving in hearing your useless words.”

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2020 #magnai oronir #sadu dotharl #hien rijin #oktai qestir #my writing #elie's ffxivwrite2020 #tales from the blue #i like hien's personality! i fucking hate that he keeps taking advantage of the entire steppe and their beliefs!!!#i Really Wanted to Punch Him and Gosetsu during the naadam!!!! i am not sorry #anyways: elie rants via fic the ffxivwrite fill #watch out naadam MSQ im coming to rewrite you and dump my steppe headcanons onto everyone sdfnsndfnsd #s: solar eclipse #f...for magnai/oktai..

22 notes · View notes