#so I’ll get the coins easier | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

venusjeon · 1 year ago

Text

angel in the marble

after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

♔ PAIRING: michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader

♔ GENRE: high renaissance au, angst, smut, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 8k

♔ WARNINGS: homelessness, stealing, mild swearing/violence/drinking, 90% of this is bickering lmao, mentions of minor characters' death, jealousy and kinda possessiveness?, referenced unconsensual groping (not by jk), a bit of blasphemy, making out, groping, fingering, rough angry sexxx, choking, slapping

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: fun fact this is mostly historically accurate! jk's characterisation, the grocery list doodles, the sack of rome, the beef with his brother, the encounter with his rival (raphael)... are all taken from michelangelo's actual life, even some stuff is quoted from his letters lol. man was fanfic material.

1529, Rome

“How much for that one?”

“No, that one’s sold already.”

It was a lively morning. After days of heavy rainfall, those of high social class were eager to get out and meet under the gentle sun of spring, whose glare reflected on the precious stones of their jewellery; while those of low, out of necessity, couldn’t wait to reopen their businesses or set up their stalls and get back to work. You liked to eye them all as you strolled the streets of Rome.

“To whom?”

“Your friend Taehyung.”

“Agh… How much is that prick paying you?”

The point of the matter was that it was bustling, some colliding if they looked away from where they were going for more than a breath. It worked in your favour for it was then easier to make yourself scarce right after stealing bags of coins, such as those of the three men seemingly bargaining by a workshop’s entrance out of which a large block of marble was being dragged. Perfect.

“Three ducats.”

“Three?! He’s robbing you of two ducats. I’ll pay you the five it’s worth.”

You kept your head low as you approached the pair that seemed wealthier and with those stealthy hands of yours unfastened the bags tied to their belts. After all, pickpocketing was a skill you’d had under your own for some years now, so this was bound to go smoothly.

Because you didn’t realise there was a guardian with them, perhaps you’d grown arrogant.

“I’m sorry, maestro. It’s reserved.”

“But it’ll become a waste in his possession!”

As you slipped away into the crowd, mouth watering at the fresh-baked bread you were going to devour as soon as bought, this brown dog leaped up at you out of nowhere, ignoring your desperate efforts to shake him off. If anything, they caused him to bark.

No, no, no…

The three men turned to the scene playing out not so far, and thinking his dog was bothering you one of them shouted, “Bam, come here, boy!” but as he obediently ran to his owner, you were too slow to hide the bags in your hands. It only took the pair a second to make them out, check whether theirs still hung on their belts, find them not, work out you’d stolen them, look back up, and find you not either.

Of course, you’d made your escape by then, dived into the sea of people and swum through them as quickly as possible, only stopping when you reached an empty vaulted alley to catch your breath.

That was ridiculously close. If you weren’t more careful next–

Your train of thought was interrupted by someone grabbing you by the arm from behind and pushing you against the nearest wall. A grunt accompanied the thud, and a gasp followed at the sight of the two men from before—dog included. Pinned in place, it’d be a bad idea to fight back or attempt to run away again. Fuck’s sake.

“Do you know what happens to thieves?” the one cornering you asked so close that when the cold breeze rustled his hair, some strands grazed your face. You looked away to avoid the tickling rather than out of fear, or so you wanted to believe. “They have a hand cut off. Seems fair, doesn’t it, Jimin?”

By contrast, that Jimin didn’t look intimidating, otherwise still catching his breath from the chase, but he did snatch the coin bags from your hands. “It doesn’t have to be so, maestro. We got our money back. She’s… just a girl.”

“And that exempts her of crime?”

“Please, don’t report me,” you begged, humiliating as though it was.

“Why shouldn’t we?” the maestro scoffed. Maestro… You were being threatened by a damned craftsman, the other one probably his assistant.

“Because I don’t want to lose a hand?”

“Oh, but we wanted to lose money, did we?” You rolled your eyes, and he released his grip only to step away. “Take us to your father, brat. He’ll answer for you.”

It took you a moment to respond, “I don’t have a father, or anyone... Only I can answer for my actions.”

“You’re a beggar?” Jimin asked, taking pity as he studied your appearance for the first time. Dishevelled hair, tattered dress, unpleasant smell… Yes, they should’ve guessed.

“She doesn’t beg, though, does she? She steals.”

“Only from cunts.”

His head snapped to meet your glare, and Jimin laughed, “You seem to not know whom you speak to.” He could be Jesus for all you cared. Uninterested, you petted the dog, Bam, seeing as he’d leapt up at you again. “This is Jeon Jungkook.”

You froze. The Jeon Jungkook? The famous artist who painted and sculpted for the Pope? Whom faraway kings and even emperors commissioned? The one whose genius was said to be changing the world?

At the lack of attention, Bam returned to his master, and that snapped you out of your shock to ask, “Then why do you whine?” The two men frowned, having clearly expected an apology paired with the usual bootlicking. “As if you need that bag more than I!”

“What nerve,” he scoffed again, making you wince by grabbing your arm tighter than before and starting to drag you into the next street. “You’re going straight to the authorities!”

“Wait,” Jimin intervened, thank God. “Weren’t you in need of a servant, maestro?”

“So?”

Jimin pointed at you with his gaze as though it was obvious. “You’re in need of a servant, she’s in need of a roof.”

“I would rather have a hand cut off.”

“I would rather have her hand cut off too.”

Jungkook tried to resume dragging you, but Jimin blocked his way with a soft smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N…”

“Do you know how to take care of a household?” Slowly, you nodded, melancholy engulfing you at the memory of cooking or sweeping the floor with your mother once upon a time. Somehow, she always found a way to make chores fun... “Then you qualify for the job. You’ll have three meals a day and a bed to sleep on. And you, maestro, a servant who’ll work her hardest, lest you fire her and she ends up in the streets again.”

Both you and Jungkook reluctantly glanced at each other. Truth be told, you didn’t prefer losing a hand to living with him, you just didn’t like him. Despite being a celebrity, he was a stranger. It just wouldn’t work.

But then, why were you holding your breath, hoping he’d accept?

“We shouldn’t have left Namjoon’s workshop. The marble is about to be delivered,” he said walking away. The air left your lungs in disappointment. It seemed you were to remain a stray cat. Jimin pressed his plump lips apologetically as he gave you enough coins to buy that bread, and you nodded, grateful all the same for his trying. You watched him rush to Jungkook’s side but when this one saw him, he turned around. “Hurry up, brat. If Taehyung gets that block of marble, I’ll not take you in.”

Since the first day, you could attest to Jeon Jungkook’s nature being as rough and uncouth as the rumours claimed, and after living alone with him for two months still believed gossip such as that he’d got the scar on his left cheek in a tavern fight—in which, if you’d chanced to be present, you would’ve rooted for the other individual.

It appeared it wasn’t just others Jungkook was harsh to. However rich his talent had turned him, he behaved like a poor man, consuming food and drink sparingly and out of necessity instead of pleasure, spending only the money required to live decently, sleeping little in order to work on commissions from dawn to midnight…

Why he chose to take little care of himself was a mystery to someone who previously had not been allowed a choice, even if putting work before all was in order to thwart Kim Taehyung’s plans of ruining his career, as he claimed. You doubted his rival was obsessed with him so, but had learned to agree with whatever Jungkook grumbled to avoid disputes. Most times.

Deep down, you had a feeling your boldness amused him. Who else dared get on his nerves?

“I think all you artists fluttering around the Pope are no more than slaves to money,” you let drop once while making his bed. Bam was sleeping peacefully under the window, while Jungkook leaning against the door’s frame behind you, offended to the core. He could help, you thought, or at least loosen my corset a little…

“I, a slave? I’ll be damned… There is an angel inside every block of marble, and I’ll have you know I carve to set it free.”

“Is it the angel that charges the Pope, then, master?” You could feel him barely restraining the urge to throw you out the window, smiled as you finished smoothing out the blankets.

“You missed a wrinkle there.”

Hands on your hips and frown on your brows, you examined the neatly arranged coverings of his bed. “Where?”

“On your face,” he muttered before making his leave.

Not his finest jibe, but the metaphor did stay with you. An angel inside the marble… It perhaps applied to Jungkook himself, though you’d never tell him.

One instance it came to mind was recently, when his assistants and apprentices were invited over for dinner.

Usually, he’d tell you which meals he liked and you’d ask at the marketplace which ingredients to buy, but now that about ten meals were to be cooked a list was needed. So there he sat on his desk in his study, inking said list as you waited in front of him, fiddling with the undershirt that peeked out of your dress’ sleeves. Given that your eyes were fixed on it, you only learned Jungkook was done when the sound of his quill scratching the paper ceased.

“Be back no later than dusk,” he ordered, “I bet there are still Germans and Spaniards lurking about.”

A year had passed since the Sack of Rome, but the mention of it sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Whatever the political reasons for it, you hated everyone involved, for Hell itself would’ve been a more beautiful sight to behold those nine months when the Tiber’s waters remained painted red…

You were lucky to make it through. Your family wasn’t.

“Yes, master.”

“Here,” he said handing you the paper, then picked another letter from a pile of correspondence he’d been going through before your arrival. Jungkook was about to snap its wax seal when he looked up to realise you hadn’t moved an inch. “Why are you here? Away with you!” He saw the reason in the way you avoided eye contact. “You can’t read, can you?” Met with a silence charged with embarrassment, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Give me the list.”

Getting hold of the quill again, Jungkook began… doodling?

You tilted your head but couldn’t see well what he was drawing until he finished and returned the list to you. Then, your lips parted. Each item on the list was illustrated next to its name: ten loaves of bread, a jug of wine, tortellini, four anchovies, two fennel soups…

“I’ll teach you to read when I have time. This will do for now.”

“You’d do that?” For me?

Jungkook ignored you, before he went back to reading his letters complimenting the good gesture with an irritated, “Hurry up.”

That night his co-workers arrived one by one, Jimin the first. The sight of him when you opened the door brightened up your mood.

Unlike a certain someone he was always sweet to you, genuinely interested to know how you fared even if you were just a servant. He claimed that mattered not to him, that you were both commoners and thus equals.

“Look at this place, it’s spotless! And you know I’m furtive, so I won’t get in your way,” you told Jimin as you escorted him through a hallway, bright from the torches hung on the walls that you’d lit up earlier.

He laughed, “I cannot make you my servant, Y/N, you’re maestro’s.”

“But he’s going to drive me mad… To tell you one of many examples, he often falls asleep in his clothes, and who but I is to take his boots off so they don’t get the sheets dirty? If the chalk on his fingers or the dust from the chiseling on his hair won’t already. Bam is far cleaner…”

Jungkook had a workshop he barely set foot in, preferred his team made use of it instead to not be bothered by their idiocy. His words. So it was in a chamber on the ground floor of this house he gave way to artistic insanity. In your book, that meant constant cleaning.

Jimin looked at you fondly. “Sounds nightmarish.”

“It truly is!”

As soon as the two of you entered the dining hall, Bam ran from Jungkook’s side by the fireplace to Jimin, who was as excited to see him.

“Good night, maes–”

“Do you think I’m deaf, ungrateful brat?” Jungkook interrupted him to bark at you. “Rome is full of people begging to get a piece of me, so if you don’t like it here, I’ll just get someone else!”

“You say that and yet keep me like a prisoner!”

“As if you don’t have it better here than anywhere you’ve burdened with your presence before!”

“There, there…” Jimin interjected to de-escalate, kneeling to better stroke Bam. “Maestro, I’ve seen your latest sketch of the Virgin and Child. She resembles Y/N.”

Both you and Jungkook failed to fight off the embarrassment, gazes unable to find a place to settle. Sitting down on the large table, he explained, “It was just one time… I had used Yoongi as a model, but the Madonna looked too masculine... and rather than going through the trouble of finding some girl and hiring her, I had Y/N pose for me… So what! Why bring it up out of nowhere…”

“Because maybe you just need a bit of distance from time to time. With permission, I too would have Y/N pose for m–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now, why the hell not?” you groaned stamping your foot, startling poor Bam. Hope had been born inside you in a second and cruelly crushed in the next.

“Because I say so. And watch your tone with me.” As usual, the mutual glaring would trick anyone into thinking the next step would be murder. Jimin, who knelt there awkwardly, certainly thought so, at least until the bell rang. “Now go answer the door!”

What happened later, though, rendered the fury Jungkook had evoked in your heart nonexistent and instead seized the thing in a clasp of distress.

In the morning, he walked in when you were sweeping the kitchen. At once you forced the sobs to stop and turned around so he wouldn’t see you wipe your tears.

“It’s past nine, where’s breakfast?” he asked in shock that you hadn’t even started making it, the table there empty.

You swore under your breath before leaving the broomstick leaning against the nearest wall, flushed face kept out of Jungkook’s sight, then in a haste fetched a plate, a knife, and a leftover bread loaf. “Apologies, master, I forgot. I’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

Sniffling betrayed you, at which Jungkook frowned. “Are you crying?”

Great, the question just about especially designed to make one well up. Not trusting your voice anymore, you shook your head. Jungkook approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the task at hand, now cutting a few slices of the bread.

“Have you broken something?” You shook your head again, the suppressed sobs making your chin tremble. Jungkook took a deep breath before asking with a surprisingly soothing tone, “Then what’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Within an hour, he’d summoned a meeting consisting of all who’d attended dinner the previous night.

A seemingly calm Jungkook was sat at the head of the table, elbows sunk on it and fingers interlocked. You stood behind him, head still low out of shame. A tense silence had fallen in the chamber some time ago, and sick of it, Jimin shattered it.

“Have you anything to tell us, maestro?”

“I was waiting for Biagio to do so.”

The man was one of Jungkook’s favourite assistants who had worked with him for years, even longer than Jimin. And if it was possible for your position to be trickier, he belonged to some noble family.

“Me? But I’ve nothing to say, maestro.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair. “My servant will, then. Y/N?”

Bastard. If you are going to fire me, why make me go through this?

“Last night, w-when I left this hall to go refill the wine jug… Messer Biagio followed me into the kitchen, and… h-he trapped me from behind, and started t-to touch me…” Your vision soon blurred, hence why you couldn’t see clearly how concerned Jimin was for you, or how Biagio jumped up in outrage. “I managed to push him away, and ran upst–”

“How dare you slander me, wench? Maestro, you do not believe this!”

“Do I not?”

“She’s lying! I caught her stealing sketches from your study, likely to sell them, so she’s trying to get rid of me!”

You almost scoffed. Only an idiot would choose the one occasion guests had come over and her absence would be noticed to carry out a theft.

Jungkook tilted his head. “I thought you had nothing to say. Why would you keep such a thing just now?”

Biagio gulped. “I deemed it best to mention it later, in private... You won’t believe a pickpocket before an old friend, will you?”

Silence returned, your breath still as you saw all the assistants and apprentices visibly take pity on him. The only one who didn’t was Jimin, but even on his face there was a hint of hesitation. Jungkook’s, you couldn’t see from behind, but after an eternity he stood up and walked over only to put a hand on the shoulder of Biagio, who smiled in relief.

A quiet sob broke through your lips, heart sinking. You’d needed Jungkook to believe you in this. Not because of the consequences his protection as your master could save you from, but because, like it or not… he was the closest thing to family you had.

It turned out he did believe you, judging by the punch landed on Biagio’s jaw out of nowhere. And the next one on his cheekbone, and on his nose. Before everyone around the table had barely stood up to stop Jungkook, he’d already thrown Biagio down and straddled him, pulling his doublet’s collar in a close, tight grip as he continued beating him up. Blood was drawn, but for once, you didn’t mind having to scrub it later.

Jungkook’s influence trumped a whole noble house’s, you learned in the course of the months Biagio tried his mightiest and failed most miserably to have him arrested. Perhaps because of the Pope sitting on his shoulder.

That he’d taken your side was still hard to believe, all he’d grumbled with a shrug when you thanked him while tending to his wounds from the fight being, “I’d been waiting for the chance. I always thought Biagio was a weasel.”

With the matter resolved, life returned to normal—well, whatever that meant in Jeon Jungkook’s household. Because calling for you at the top of his lungs like a madman was not normal. The first time he’d done it you’d raced downstairs, afraid something horrible had happened, only for him to have you close a window as it was getting chilly. Devil rot him. You rushed no longer after that, much to his complaints.

Today, he didn’t notice right away when you appeared under the cased opening, and good thing he didn’t, for he was polishing a bust with sandpaper… shirtless.

Product of hours carving stone into his desired shape or occasionally beating someone up, he could brag of having muscles, which the current task had covered in a layer of sweat and dust. The way they flexed with each movement had you compelled, wanting to reach out, feel if his skin was as hot as the blood pumping through your veins faster and faster. Then your gaze moved to the bust and whatever spell you were under broke.

Hardly an angel was that widowed noblewoman, whom you wished had stayed trapped inside a block of marble. Her name was Madonna Maddalena, and she’d come some weeks past to make a commission covered in pearls, gold, and boldness.

“My friends refused to accompany me today. You’re said to be… disagreeable, which I’m sure is untrue. However, all of them do want to know if you’re as fine-looking as is also rumoured, maestro” she told Jungkook within minutes of meeting him, still by the entrance!

Now you can tell them he’s not, you bit your tongue before it remarked, as this wasn’t Jimin but a patron not to be scared away by your bickering. It wouldn’t be true anyway. All your master lacked in manners, he made up for with looks… Which you’d never say out loud. You’d never say either that he looked even better when irked.

“I’ve heard many rumours about myself, most of them nonsense. My appearance was involved in none.”

She smiled seductively. “I suppose I’ll have to be the one to spread them.”

“The weather is pleasant today,” Jungkook changed the subject, flustered beneath the formal demeanour. “Shall we have wine in the garden?” You left to prepare it not before catching Maddalena raise her brow at you in disapproval. She must’ve been able to tell you thought she was a pompous cunt.

The beautiful flowers you cared for tried their best outside, but the air didn’t get any better.

Sat around a small table, Maddalena explained she wanted a bust of herself by his talented hand to decorate the main hall of her palazzo. You served them wine, not really listening until Jungkook started playing hard to get. The hundred times you’d told him it wasn’t a good tactic to make his labour out to be too prestigious had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

“Any other artist could carry this out, Madonna. I am working for the Pope these days…” he subtly scolded her, a mere mortal, for wasting his precious time. And he wondered why he had a reputation for being arrogant.

Maddalena put his thoughts into plain words, “So why should you stoop to taking commissions from an insignificant widow?”

“Correct,” you said under your breath, luckily heard by none from the background, where you stood holding a wine jug until the madonna raised her cup and you approached to refill it.

“It is then fortunate I’m to marry a nephew of the Pope’s.”

Swayed by her future influence, Jungkook smiled back. “So it is.”

“But not for another week. ‘Till then, I belong to no man.” The suggestion in her tone almost drove you to spill wine all over her. No, better yet: order Bam to sic on her. He’d do it.

Just, who did this woman think she was? And why did Jungkook not kick her out right afterwards? It made you wonder whether he’d enjoyed the flirtation. Whether he would’ve been the one to take things further had his inconvenient servant not been present. It was common for men to have affairs and lovers, but it didn’t sit well with you that Jungkook might. Not that you ever imagined him doing any of that, for goodness’ sake–

“What took you so long?”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to the present, under the cased opening.

“I was lazing about, as always,” you quoted his favourite false reprimand, making him roll his eyes, your own dropping to the floor when he walked closer.

“In that case, prepare a bath for me.”

“Yes, master.”

You sighed at all the work ahead. That being a servant was worlds better than living in the streets didn’t mean you looked forward to collecting gallons of water from a well, carrying them back, heating them, transferring them to a tub, then washing Jungkook—because you did wash him.

Biagio had hurt his left shoulder bad and ever since, he’d needed assistance in certain activities. Curious how he could otherwise chisel a goddamned bust without problem.

Jungkook’s full nudity only made you blush if you stopped scrubbing, so knelt with tucked up sleeves before the wooden tub he was reclined on, scrubbing away the dirt on his skin with lavender-scented soap you were. Maybe all the stupid feelings you’d been suffering lately stemmed from there…

Head resting on the edge, he was exhausted from the long day of work, taking your rubbing as a relaxing massage. You, however, couldn’t ignore the stinging guilt, what with the scar on his shoulder right in front of your face. He probably felt your breathing on it.

“I’m sorry you got hurt…”

Jungkook fought heavy lids only to see you avoid him. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable in front of him was embarrassing, as when he’d caught you crying, but he didn’t take advantage of the fact to humiliate you. Jungkook may be an ogre, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I’ve received worse for less,” he assured you in a calm, low voice. It sounded soothing to your ears.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you scoffed, glancing at his other scar on the cheek. “Did you also get that one in defence of some lady?”

“You’re nowhere close to a lady.” It could be done, you mused. Drowning him. “This was courtesy of my brother.”

“You have a brother?” It dawned on you how little you knew of him. Surely, most had heard it all about the divine Jeon Jungkook, but you’d never cared enough to learn past the shell of gossip, even after months of living with him. In fairness, he’d never asked about you either. You preferred it that way.

“Brothers,” he corrected you. “The one who did this to me was a wayward fool. Had to teach him a lesson.”

“Looks like he taught one to you.”

“I left with a scratch, he with a limp.” The conception of two brothers hurting each other so harshly widened your eyes for a second, and Jungkook noticed, for he added, “He was whoring around, wasting the money I worked hard to send, bullying our other brothers as well.”

Much made sense about Jungkook all of a sudden. Not his personality, that was incomprehensible. But why he killed himself to earn money and yet barely spent it… He had a family to provide for. Once again, you were reminded of his metaphor. Could an angel be in there?

Carrying on washing Jungkook, you dragged the sponge over to his neck. Then his collarbones, his chest, his abs just peaking above the water... They did look like a sculpture’s, especially wet and soaped, reminiscent of polished marble when the light of the torches reflected on them. Swallowing hard, the back of your fingers gingerly graced Jungkook’s muscles, both soft and firm. Slippery. Whatever possessed you to keep feeling them, you lacked the will to expel from your body, and so without realising your grip on the sponge loosened until it fell to float away, fingertips now free to roam over his abs.

You were slowly trailing downwards, past the water’s surface, when your wrist was seized and held in the air in a warning manner, the startle almost making you scream.

Sat upright, Jungkook was glaring at you so fiercely you feared for your life. But he didn’t say anything and instead just breathed hard, jaw clenched… almost as if he was holding back. Your rising heartbeat was deafening in the silence waiting for something to happen, anything, but what did wasn’t what a side of you anticipated with excitement.

Jungkook just let go of your wrist and returned to his previous position, and you got hold of the sponge and finished washing him, albeit holding your breath the entire time.

Days later, you came dangerously close to being fired.

The Pope had summoned Jungkook—something about a portrait commission—and you were to carry his bag filled with sketches for him due to his shoulder injury. As you navigated the ever-busy streets of Rome with him, the cold autumn breeze made you regret not putting on an overgown. The cioppa you’d bought with your own salary and not stolen. It brought a smile to your lips that faded at the realisation your mother would’ve reminded you to put it on before going out.

The sorrow pestering you turned to confusion when Jungkook stopped walking and tsked, telling you loud enough to be heard by all, “Look at him, the chief of police, with such an assemblage.”

A well-dressed man and what appeared to be his entourage walked in your direction, halting near enough. You didn’t have to ask to know this was his rival, the renowned painter Kim Taehyung.

“Whereas you, like an executioner, walk alone,” he mocked Jungkook, then noticed you standing behind him like a timid child. “Not completely, my mistake. Maestro, where in your barren soil did you plant such a flower?” He walked over to you, intentionally bumping Jungkook’s wounded shoulder as he passed, causing him to grunt lowly. From up close one was bound to marvel at how handsome Taehyung was, but you didn’t need proximity to tell he was a prick. Miles away, you would’ve known. “Why don’t you come work for me, flower? I’ll make you my muse.”

Jungkook scoffed again, “What, for your horseshit paintings? She’d be a fool to.”

Taehyung turned around to face him, feigning confusion with a smile. “But, maestro, how could they be so if you were once heard saying that all I have in art, I got from you?”

"You naturally have to resort to plagiarising my master’s genius if all you do is horseshit,” you countered, earning surprised looks from every man present, some laughs too, you were proud to say. Jungkook was certainly smirking. Taehyung opened his mouth, but you walked past him uninterested before a response came out of it.

“Good girl,” Jungkook laughed while leaving the crime scene, and for some reason your cheeks burned hot.

The incident happened once inside the Vatican.

Its grandiose corridors alone made you feel small, too unimportant to walk them, whereas Jungkook did so with determination, knowing he belonged at the top of the world. What with your tempestuous relationship, it was easy to forget he was famous throughout Europe. His feet would still never be kissed by you. Someone had to humble the man, right?

At some point the two of you arrived at a door flanked by guards, and averse, you grabbed the sleeve of Jungkook’s doublet.

“Do I have to go in?”

“Too good for the Pope, are you?” He shook you off. “Come on.”

“Damn you…” you muttered.

“What did you just say to me?”

“After you, master.”

Telling himself he’d be late if he scolded you, Jungkook turned and nodded at the guards, who opened the door of a chamber whose walls were frescoed with angels and saints, likely by Taehyung, giving off the impression one was in Heaven. When you saw him sat on a golden chair, old and grey, enjoying the tune of a lute player, you felt as though you’d just entered Hell.

The audience lasted for ever. While you stood by the door, Jungkook showed the Pope some sketches of the portrait for him to choose his favourite and then they talked and talked of politics. All you could do was fix your gaze somewhere on the floor and sigh.

“Yes, Your Holiness, this is the servant I mentioned…” A frown proceeded your looking up to see Jungkook somewhat embarrassed, scratching his nose as if to hide his face. He talked of you to others? Doubtless to complain…

With a sweet voice as if he was talking to a little girl, the Pope asked you, “What is your name?”

“None of your business, Your Holiness.”

The musician’s tune ceased abruptly, allowing Jungkook’s faint gasp to be heard. Then fell a short silence spent by the Pope blinking, taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

Jungkook was quick to fake a laugh, though sweat formed at his temples. “A jest! She meant no offence, Your Holiness, but to make you laugh.”

You held the Pope’s glare in defiance, indifferent to the fact he was the most powerful man in the whole of Christendom.

By some miracle, he let it go, and you left that chamber minutes later with your head as yet attached to your body. Your arm wouldn’t be for much longer, though, given Jungkook was forcibly dragging you all the way out to the streets, pushing you into the first alley he saw.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he shouted, towering over you menacingly. Unlike the day you’d met, you weren’t scared, rather furious as him as you stood your ground. “That was the Pope, you fool!”

“So?”

Jungkook was in utter disbelief. “He could’ve ordered your execution– mine too!”

“Well, nothing happened!”

“Nothing?! I’m sure to fall out of favour!” He paced around, anxiety quickening his breath. “Years of pouring my soul into my craft, of grovelling before the right people, all thrown away! Good God, your attitude may cost me everything…”

“And what about me?! Everything lost to me does not matter?!”

Jungkook stopped to frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was now you who walked up to him. “I didn’t have a job, or a reputation, or admirers. I had only a family, and I never wished for anything else! That monster you work for took them from me. When the foreigners’ armies came and everyone rushed to Castel Sant’Angelo, he gave the order to close the gates as soon as he was safe behind them! You must have been there with him, weren’t you? Well, we weren’t. We were left outside to be slaughtered. And I wish I had been, like my parents, so I didn’t have to suffer the likes of you any longer!”

Tears were streaming down your face by the end, Jungkook just staring back at you. It didn’t surprise him that your parents were dead or that they’d been killed during the Sack, but that it was so deep a wound left festering in your heart that you didn’t mind being put out of misery. He surmised your disrespectful behaviour towards him was also fruit of your pain, especially if you deemed him an ally of the one who caused it.

“The few things I own… They’re wasted on me. Throw them away or give them to your next servant,” you sobbed, taking for granted you were fired. Anyone with half a brain would indeed have you dismissed, and part of you knew it was bound to happen, that you would go back to breaking in fucking churches to spend the night.

So you turned around into the main street, set on wandering until your legs became too sore not to collapse. With any luck, a carriage would run over you. But warmth then surrounded your hand, and you looked down to see Jungkook’s holding it tight enough to force you to halt. Though still mad, a hint of compassion sparkled in his eyes.

“Let’s… Let us just go home.”

Home. His house had felt so for a while now, truth be told. Himself too.

After that, you non-verbally agreed on a ceasefire—avoiding quarrels, that is, which was quite the task for both.

Such as now that Jungkook had you inking down a letter in his name. First of all, did you look like a scribe? If you’d known in advance the lazy arse would teach you to read and write for this, you’d have chosen to remain illiterate. And second, this was your short break before making dinner, intended to be spent playing with Bam. The poor thing was also in the study, at least being stroked by his owner, who was sat beside you on the desk.

“… I send you my regards, may God keep you from all harm. Jeon Jungkook in Rome,” he finally finished dictating, and you recording. “Give it to me, I’ll seal it.”

He was melting the wax with which to do so when the bell rang, to his surprise. Sighing, you stood up and went to open the door to whom turned out to be Jimin. The sight of him brightened you up, and yours stretched his lips into a smile.

“Evening, Y/N.”

“Good evening! I didn’t know the master was expecting you.”

“He isn’t…” You welcomed him in, brows joining at how he continuously chewed on his aforementioned lip and breathed deep through his nose as he followed you. Had something happened…? A decision to eavesdrop was made en route to the study.

Though Jimin requested for you to stay once there, and nothing could have prepared you for the reason why.

“This actually concerns Y/N…” You and Jungkook exchanged confused looks, him leaning against the desk and crossing arms as though he didn’t like the sound of that. Jimin fixed his already perfect clothes before addressing him, “I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.” Your jaw dropped. “I know it’s sudden at the lack of previous courtship, but I thought I should ask for your permission before engaging in it, maestro. She’s a lovely girl… and I think she’d be happy as my wife. Worry not, I won’t ask for a dowry or for her to stop working… Although on second thought, fewer hours of service would be ideal.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening.

Jungkook must be thinking the same, for he squinted to ask, “Are you drunk?”

“N-No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? You want to marry a servant with little to her name.” He had a point, so you weren’t offended. If politics weren’t the reason for a union, did this mean… Jimin had feelings for you?

“Maestro, you say it as if I were a lord,” he chuckled. “I don’t care about Y/N’s possessions, I’ll provide for her anyway. I’ve… always been fond of her. And I dare say she shares the sentiment.”

Betrayal hid safely behind a look that asked if there was any truth to that. Obviously not! There was no romance in your own fondness for Jimin. If anything, you had thought he saw you as a younger sister to look after, therefore as a protective older brother you saw him. But so shocked were you still that no words managed to come out, and Jungkook’s gaze shifted back to Jimin.

“I’ll think about it. You may go.”

A curt tone was the norm for Jungkook, it was not being granted his blessing that disappointed Jimin. He knew for a fact he was an honourable man, so why wouldn't he entrust you to him?

“Quite well… I’ll show myself out.” he uttered, before making his leave failing to hide his low spirit by giving you one last shy smile you hadn’t the heart to return.

An awkward silence filled the air that even Bam daren’t break. Only once the front door was heard shutting did you walk closer to Jungkook.

“You won’t agree to this, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have to get rid of you at some point.”

“Rid of me? Like I’m a burden?” you asked, voice rising. How a servant could be so was unknown to you until, like wooden ship toys did when you’d submerge them in a bucket of water as a child, certain guesses surfaced in your thoughts. Trying to pickpocket him, the constant clashing, Biagio, that bath, the Pope… Yes, you may perhaps be described as a burden. But you didn’t want to leave. With a calmer tone, you pleaded, “I’ll behave from now on. I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear.”

Jungkook didn’t deign to look your way as he left, followed by Bam. “You have to marry at some point, Y/N. Otherwise people will gossip.”

Since when did he care about what people said of him? And why should you?

Winter having dropped its anchor, nightfall arrived early. Not early enough, you brooded as you cooked dinner, longing for the day to end once and for all. With any hope, all of this was a nightmare and upon waking up in the morning life would go back to normal. You didn’t even know why you wanted to stay with Jungkook, as the occasions in which you’d begged Jimin to employ you to leave this house were countless. The only certain thing was that you were upset.

Later, after washing all plates and cups, you began to put off all torches lighting the house, finding out in the hall that Jungkook hadn’t moved from the seat he’d dined in. You considered carrying on with your job and leaving him in the dark, but he wouldn’t find it as funny. Instead, you stood before him.

“Will that be all, master?”

The coldness in your expression made him sigh, “Y/N–”

“I shall retire, then.” You turned to leave but were made to stop in your tracks.

“It’s an advantageous proposal for you,” he lectured to whom he must believe an idiot. “Jimin works for me, he’s wealthy. A better match than you could ever aspire to. And he asks for no dowry because he doesn’t want money, he wants you…” His words were tainted with resentment. “He’ll take good care of you.”

Skirt of your dress swirling along, you faked a smile. “If you think so, master, then it must be so.”

He shook his head as he leaned back in defeat. “Suit yourself, but I won’t be the one to reject Jimin. You crush his heart.”

A laugh escaped you. “If you genuinely cared about him, you wouldn’t let him marry a woman in love with–” Oh no. It only hit you as you were saying it.

Jungkook had appeared annoyed, but now he was mad. “Who?” He stood up abruptly—chair’s feet scratching against the floor making you wince—and walked so close you were backed against the wall, face forced to turn to a side. In a low, deep voice, he repeated, less as a question and more as an order this time, “Who.”

There was no way in the nine circles of Hell you’d say it, when you didn’t want to believe it in the first place. For fuck’s sake, why? Jungkook only ever made you want to get away from him. That was the case right now, but then… why were your feet frozen?

Some unreasonable part of you seemed to have prevailed upon the others, casting away all resistance from your body and allowing yourself to indulge in Jungkook’s proximity. You met his eyes without fear, held his dark gaze. It didn’t take him long to work it out, yet he kept close, so close your unsteady breaths mingled, the effect akin to intoxication. He was visibly trying to hold back, telling himself it’d be a bad idea, but you prayed he wouldn’t care.

By God or the Devil, your prayers were heard.

Jungkook finally smashed his lips into yours, devouring them with a hunger you shared and felt growing as he gripped your waist to press you against him. A minute ago, you wouldn’t have imagined his tongue belonged inside your mouth, swirling around your own, and now you wanted it all over your body. As if reading your mind, Jungkook broke the ardent kiss to move down to your neck, which he licked painfully slowly before sucking hard, making you hiss with pleasure. He knew that would leave a mark, the bastard. You wondered if it was meant for Jimin, so he’d see you were Jungkook’s, and in such case you didn’t mind, let your eyelids close to enjoy it.

Steered by the lust possessing you, one hand grabbed his soft hair in a fistful, keeping his head in place where he was sweetly abusing your neck, while the other travelled southwards until it reached his crotch and held it over the trousers, feeling his cock stiffen. Jungkook groaned—a vibration to your skin—in retaliation lifting your skirt. You’d thought he'd take his time, tease you, but after ensuring you were wet enough by gliding his middle finger along your core, he slid it inside and began making beckoning motions.

“Master…” you moaned, legs shaking. Jungkook forsook your neck to pull back, watch how you struggled to keep it together as he added another finger, curling and uncurling them both, hitting all the right places, and unwilling to give him that satisfaction without consequences you groped his erection with the same vigour. Although he was in good control of his expression, his breath quivered against your lips, so he kissed them again, biting hard into your lower one.

He exhaled, “You’re driving me to sin…”

Indeed, the same fingers that held the brushes when he painted religious artwork were buried deep inside your cunt, bringing you the most sinful ecstasy. It made you chuckle. Jungkook took that as the mockery it was and, crossed, pulled his fingers out of you to drag you by the arm to the edge of the table, where he had you sit. Without delay he lifted your skirt again, only this time he also pulled down his trousers to reveal his cock, thick and throbbing, which he pumped as he watched you spread your legs eagerly, ready to take all of him.

With his free hand Jungkook cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip, coated with saliva and reddened still from when he’d bit it. He could sense your desire, that you craved him inside, had for a while. Desperately. And however much tempted he was to make you beg for it, his own arousal led his cock to your entrance and eased it inside already, another groan hitting the back of his bared teeth. You didn’t have time to gasp, his thrusts so quick they earned only moans, so wonderful did it feel.

Jungkook’s hand on your cheek then wrapped around your neck. “Do you know how often I’ve fantasised strangling you?”

You chuckled again as you slapped him across the face. Jungkook halted his movements in shock, glared at you. “And I slapping you?”

It took him a moment, but he scoffed and pushed you back so that you were lying down, climbing next atop you, confident that the wooden table was sturdy enough to hold both. So legs hooked around his torso and arms around his neck, you welcomed his thrusts, rough enough to make your eyes water. But it felt heavenly, how he ravished you... The mutual irritation and tension building up for over half a year translated into indescribable pleasure.

He kissed you again, flicking his tongue against yours as he pounded into you without mercy. Overwhelmed by the sensation, all you could do to express you were nearing your limit was sink your nails into Jungkook’s biceps at each side of you, moan inside his mouth. He took the hint and fucked you as fast as his body would allow, within mere seconds your walls clenching tight around him. The sight of you collapsing under him, overcome with bliss, made him reach his own highest shortly, spurting his warm seed inside you.

As his movements gradually ceased, so did your panting. Before a complete silence fell, you asked, “Am I still to marry Jimin?”

Jungkook grabbed your face and growled against your pouted lips, “You’re not going anywhere.”

#bts au #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bangtan imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook scenarios #bts fic #jeongguk #bangtan #bts x you

5K notes · View notes

megamindsecretlair · 1 month ago

Note

Girrrlll a thought if you will but Terry Richmond the idea of a breeding kink with him. A thought that randomly popped into my unhinged brain for him. Cause GIRL! He’s already toxic in bed and just add that to the mix.

A/N: You sneakin a peek at my drafts????

I Swear I'll Never Leave

Pairing: Toxic Baby Daddy!Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, angst if you squint, fingering (fem receiving), teasing, size kink, dirty talk, mean Terry, daddy kink, praise kink, spanking, breeding kink, overstimulation, hair pulling, manhandling, persuasion through the power of dick, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: See Ask. When Terry comes to pick up your daughter, you can’t help picking a fight with him. He sends your daughter outside to wait with Mike while he makes sure you understand a few things.

Word Count: 4,909k

AO3 Link

A/N: WHEW. I hope this lives up to the hype. This is close to the daydream I had. Ya'll know how hard it is to match it perfectly lol. This hurt ME so I hope you enjoy. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Loud banging on the metal door tore your attention away from your Kindle. You groaned and looked at the time on your alarm clock. It was past two. One of your biggest pet peeves about your baby daddy was that he was annoyingly on time. You were not.

You groaned and got up from bed, picking up the pace once you heard your daughter, Cadence, hopping up and down on your hardwood floors. “Daddy’s here! Daddy’s here!” She giggled, hopping in a circle outside of your room.

“Yes, baby, I heard him,” you said, hunting for your robe. You were only in a giant red sleep shirt while you waited for laundry to get done. The banging continued and you took your precious time finding said robe. That man would just have to wait.

“Mommy, he’s hereeeee,” Cadence sang, bouncing on the balls of her little feet.

“Yes, baby, I know. What did we say about patience?” You asked, grabbing your robe from your chair and putting it on. It was actually an old one of Terry’s that was soft and reminded you of him.

Cadence sighed and stuck out her bottom lip. She looked down and sighed again. “Sometimes we have to wait for what we want,” she said, her voice sounding the complete opposite from what it was before.

You chuckled and tapped her nose. “Alright now. Go get your things and I’ll let your daddy in, okay?” You asked.

Cadence’s smile returned full force, lighting up her face that looked so much like Terry. Like he spat the baby out and you just carried her. It was honestly disrespectful. Terry banged on the door once more, getting louder and more annoying with it.

You huffed and walked to the front of the house, opening the wooden door. “Can you stop banging on my door like you the police?” You asked.

Terry chuckled and scratched at his beard. The stubble made him look more rugged and you fought a shiver as you took in the rest of him. He wore black sweats and a matching black tank top molded to his body.

Tank tops were made for someone like him. Someone so chiseled and well defined. He still kept up his training, still made sure to spend hours in the gym keeping up his physique. It was annoying as hell. Like why couldn’t he let himself go? Couldn’t he make it easier to leave him alone?

“If you just gave me a key…” Terry said, leaning against the metal door. His gorgeousness was disrupted by the metal screen and you took a deep breath. Facing Terry was like coming into contact with the divine. He was far from a saint, but he was so damn pretty.

“Nice try. Can’t have you walking in if I have company,” you said, opening the door, finally. Terry’s ever changing eyes watched your every movement. He smiled once you were revealed and you tightened the string on the robe.

“If you miss me, just say that,” he said, his eyes going lower and lower. You crossed your legs and your arms, communicating to him that you were closed for business.

“I’m doing mighty fine without you, thank you,” you said. You looked behind you. For all her excitement, what the hell was taking Cadence so long?

“Mhm,” Terry hummed, smirk curling his lips. You ignored him, tapping your foot on the ground.

“It’s been four months. When are you gonna let me back in?” Terry moved to take up the entire door frame with his height and size. He wore a do-rag on his head, the ends tucked in. Dressed in all black as he was, he may as well have been a giant red flag.

“How about…October 32nd?” You asked, grinning at him.

Terry chuckled. “That’s not what you said last time,” he said.

“I was drunk last time. I would’ve said anything to get off,” you said, just as Cadence came flying through the living room.

“Dadddddyyyyyyyy!” She screamed and launched herself at him. He bent down at the last minute and caught her, giving her a giant hug and swinging her from side to side.

“How is my little baby?” He asked. He hefted Cadence onto his hip and looked up at her. The grin on her face. You smiled and took out your phone to capture a photo of the both of them. Terry hung the moon as far as your daughter was concerned. As long as he remained a good father, you weren’t going to stand in the way of that.

She was old enough to realize that daddy was no longer at home with her, but young enough to not fully realize why. You didn’t have the words to explain to her that you loved Terry, but you couldn’t be in the same room with him without wanting to commit bloody murder.

Cadence chattered away, telling Terry everything he missed since the last time he saw her. He listened to everything, casting glances at you. You shared a smile with him, admiring this beautiful, creative daughter you made together.

“I can’t wait to hear more, baby, but I need to talk to mommy. Go play with Uncle Mike until we’re done,” he said.

“We don’t have to talk,” you said. If he went on and left, you could enjoy the rest of your holiday weekend doing absolutely fucking nothing. After laundry and the dishes, you planned on relaxing tonight. You just needed to decide on which type of alcohol to accompany you.

Terry flicked his eyes to you and raised an eyebrow. You rolled your eyes. The fuck does he want?

Cadence pouted as Terry put her down but she saw Mike leaning against Terry’s truck. He waved to you and you returned it, watching Cadence run into his arms with the same force she did for Terry. Mike scooped her up and gave her a big hug, tickling her.

Terry stepped into the house like he owned it. Sure, both of your names were on the deed, but that didn’t mean shit. “Hey!” You called after him and then closed the door.

Terry looked around and you spread your arms, following behind him. “What the hell are you doing?” You asked.

Terry checked the living room and then turned back to you with a smirk on his lips. He approached you and you backed away. You realized what he was doing and then stopped, held your ground. Terry encroached into your personal space, looking down his wide nose at you.

“I know you miss me,” he said.

You laughed and shook your head. “The fuck make you think that?” You asked and crossed your arms.

“You pick fights when you need some dick,” he said.

You sputtered as your brain stalled. You wanted to yell at him, curse him, and kick his ass out of your house. But your body was a traitor. You flushed with heat and you grew wet between your legs.

Fuck. Tequila it was tonight as you threw on a good porno and got yourself off. You had been feeling restless lately, feeling like you wanted to chew through bricks if it meant getting some relief. Ovulation week was horrible. Nothing but dick on the brain and how soon you could get some. How he knew that was a damn mystery, but you tightened the belt on the robe to the point of pain and then re-crossed your arms.

“That’s not true,” you said.

Terry advanced on you, pushing you backwards with a few fingers on your tummy. Your back hit the door frame separating the front room from the hallway. Once he had you where he wanted, he pulled at the robe you had on. Your thighs tingled and he opened the robe to reveal your sleep shirt.

“Laundry day?” He asked.

“How the fu–”

Terry leaned down and brought his lips to yours. He stopped just before contact and you smelled the fresh mint on his breath. “Don’t you know by now that I notice everything about you?” He asked.

He curled a finger under your chin and lifted it until you looked into the deep pool of his eyes. His thumb stroked your chin and your pussy felt it. It throbbed and the wetness got worse.

You licked your lips and huffed, giving him a shrug. “I don’t need any help, thank you,” you said. You pushed at his shoulder but he didn’t budge. Didn’t even pretend to. You sighed and tried a different tactic. “Cadence has been looking forward to today for a while. You shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

Terry’s smile was slow and near animalistic. “Speaking of, isn’t it time for us to have another?” He asked.

You burst with laughter, the force of it stealing your breath. You shook your head and looked at him. His eyes were trained on you, tracking everything, before you burst into laughter once more. You wiped the corners of your eyes and shook your head. “Fuck no,” you said.

“You sure? Remember how much fun we had making Cadence?” He asked. He kissed the corner of your mouth and then moved his hand from your chin, down around your breast, and then further down to your stomach.

He flattened his big hand across your tummy, giving it a squeeze. His palm was warm, seeping through your shirt. If you had on panties, they’d be ruined by now. You were too turned on. Too flushed with heat. Too down bad to continue even the smallest torture. And he knew it.

He hummed as he sighed with satisfaction, like he just confirmed something he had been questioning. He blinked and that turned you on. That’s how you knew you were fucked. “Let’s make a son,” he said.

“So I can go through pregnancy alone? Again?” You asked.

Terry winced and you immediately felt bad. That was below the belt. You sighed and leaned away from him, pushing at his hand. “This is why we don’t work,” you whispered. Terry made you bring your claws out. Wanting to hurt him. And that wasn’t what relationships were about. You shouldn’t want to hurt the love of your life.

Terry kept his hand on your belly and brought his other hand to cup your cheek. “I know I fucked up. But we do work well together,” he said.

“You didn’t! I was…” You groaned and threw up your hands. Once more, you tried to fight him. To move. To get out from under his influence. He was your worst drug of choice and you were too weak to stay away. Too weak to walk away.

Terry stayed in place. He kept his hand cupped to your cheek, holding you in place, and moved his other hand from your stomach down to the edge of your shirt. You gasped as he lifted it, inch by slow, torturous inch, and then skated his fingers along the crease between your thigh and pelvis. His rough fingers felt too good and you leaned into it before catching yourself.

Terry hummed as he moved his fingers between your legs, seeking between your damp curls, and then wiggling between your pussy lips. You hissed and held onto his shoulders, dug your nails in.

Terry kissed your cheek. “This is why we work well together. The way you respond…you can’t fake that,” he said. He brought his forehead to the side of yours, fingers starting to play with your essence. He always stopped before he got too close to your clit.

“We can’t build something on a foundation of sex, Terry,” you said.

“That isn’t our foundation. We still love each other. We’re still in love with each other,” he said, his deep voice was like a physical caress on your body. You felt it along the curves of your hips and the dip between your thighs. You spread your legs wider, giving him more access.

Your skin felt like it was going to burn to a crisp. You sunk your nails into his shoulders and Terry groaned, rolling his hips forward. You looked down and saw the tent he pitched in his sweats, giving you a nice outline of his dick. His glorious, beautiful dick.

Your thoughts turned fuzzy as he continued to tease you. He’d definitely hit that spot. That deep spot inside that only he could reach. You were pretty sure he created that spot just for him, knowing damn well no other man would compare to his size. Compared to the way he took care of you in the bedroom.

Combined with your hormones going haywire, your knees grew weaker. Your clit throbbed as his questing fingers grew closer and you whimpered as he moved away, swirling figure eight’s with your essence.

“Let me cum,” you whispered, moving your hips to chase after his fingers.

“Let me back in the house,” he countered. You sighed and rubbed your head against his.

“Terry…” You said.

He called your name and then moved his fingers to your entrance. You gasped and he lifted your chin. He pulled back to look into your eyes. Your eyelids were heavy, drooping on a mix of ovulation and lust.

You were leaving half moons in his skin from your nails. You relaxed and rubbed the pain away. It gave you something to focus on other than his beautiful hands playing you like a damn fiddle.

Terry pushed his middle finger into your pussy and you moaned, loudly, lewdly, mouth falling open and closed. You wanted to make another sound but fuck if you knew what it would be.

“How long has it been since last time? Since I was playing in this pussy?” Terry asked. He stepped closer. You brought your leg up to rub against his thigh. It opened you up further for him to pump his thick finger in and out of you.

In no time, he had you moaning and biting your lip. You were so close…almost there…and…Terry pulled his finger out. You groaned and looked at him. He smirked while he brought his finger to his mouth and suckled.

“Get that sexy ass on our bed,” Terry said. He moved back slowly so you’d have a chance to lower your leg.

You whined and stomped your foot. Terry tilted his head. You sighed and moved away from him, marching your ass to the bed. “This is the last time, Terry,” you said over your shoulder. Out from underneath him, clarity returned to your brain.

You were saying yes for you. You were saying yes because you deserved it. You were saying yes because fuck, it’d been two weeks since he blew your back out and you needed that same loving to get you through the next two weeks.

In two weeks, you’d be stronger. You’d be able to resist him. You’d be able to look across the threshold at him, picking up your daughter, and not feel that tug towards him. That glimpse into the man you fell in love with before he went into the service. You’d remain unaffected and in control.

Tonight, you were just ready to turn your brain off. Ready to fuck him like you missed him and then let him go after. You walked into your bedroom and moved your Kindle to the nightstand. Terry’s heavy footfalls sounded behind you, matching the beat of your erratic heart.

“You said that last time,” he said.

You smoothed out the comforter, in your favorite color, and rolled your eyes. “And I meant it. I mean it now,” you said.

Terry chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. And you’ll mean it next time?” He asked.

Terry opened the cabinet in your hallway and took out a towel. You lifted your eyes at him. “Someone’s a little confident,” you said.

“It’s cute when you try to act tough. Like you not drooling over this dick,” he said. He entered the room and took a look around. You wondered if he was comparing things to the last time he was here. Cadence was away at a sleepover and you broke down and asked him to come over to handle the heat between your thighs.

“Drooling?” You asked and laughed. “If you desperate for this kitty, just say that.”

“I’m desperate for it,” he said, flicking his warm eyes towards you. You snapped your mouth shut and stared while he laid the towel down on the edge of the bed. He finished and then crossed the room to you.

“You can pretend all you want, but if you didn’t want me? You wouldn’t have worn this,” he said and pulled off the robe. He balled it up and then tossed it to the chair where it usually resided. You licked your lips for lack of a better response. Because…fair.

“And, you would have put on some panties. Some pants,” he said. He lifted your shirt off in one rough yank and you gasped. Terry hummed and looked you up and down. “And you definitely wouldn’t have answered the door like this. Since you did, that can only mean you need me.”

“Need is such a big word,” you said.

Terry slipped his fingers into your hair and pulled. You moaned and closed your eyes. He walked with you like that, fist full of your hair, to the edge of the bed. He made you climb on the foot of the bed and once in position, he moved you to face the corner of your room.

The floor mirror showed your reflection, hair pulled up and away in Terry’s hand. He looked at you like he wanted to eat you alive. You absolutely missed this. Missed the way he looked at you like he couldn’t breathe without your smile in his life. Your body naturally bent forward, sticking your ass higher.

Terry locked eyes with you in the mirror. “Need is a very big word,” he said. He smacked your ass and moaned in the back of his throat.

The pain in your ass blossomed, radiated with fire. Terry delivered a few more smacks. Each one stung worse than the last, but you started to look forward to his smacks. You lifted your ass higher, meeting his hand. Your pussy dripped with your essence. You moaned, pussy clenching as you looked at the focus on his face. The determination.

His mouth was twisted and his eyebrows were furrowed as he painted your ass with his hand. You started to shake, started to tremble, before he stopped and smoothed his hand down your ass.

You hissed and moaned, pushing your ass into his hand. Terry yanked on your hair and you groaned as you lifted off of the bed.

“Look at me,” he ordered. You found his eyes in the mirror. He smiled as he lowered his sweats and then plunged inside of you in one rough thrust.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” you gasped. Terry’s smirk grew wider. He held firm to your hair, pulling to the point of pain, while he kept himself buried to the hilt. Your nails dug into the sheets, pulled at the covers.

“Look so fuckin’ gorgeous takin’ dick,” he said.

Your fist pounded feebly on the bed. You couldn’t move unless he willed it. You could only look at the satisfaction on his face. “Condom,” you choked out.

“We don’t need one, do we?” He asked. He pulled out and then pushed back in. You felt every inch of him. Every long, beautiful inch of his dick sliding against your wet walls.

Now was not the right time for another baby. You finally felt like you had a handle on Cadence. And she was plenty to handle on a good day. “She won’t forgive us for another baby,” you said, trying to come up for a good reason not to let him bathe your insides. At the moment, everything was coming up short. He and your body were working against your higher functioning. Breaking you down to the basest drive to fuck and make babies.

Terry pushed in and out of you a few more times, letting your essence coat his dick. “She’ll forgive us,” he said and sped up, slamming his hips into yours. He tightened his hold on your hair, pulling your neck to the side so he could lean down and lick.

You moaned and shivered, a tingle spreading throughout your body. He stroked, moving his hips, and hitting it just like you needed it.

“Look how sexy you look,” he said. He pulled your hair and made you lift your face to the mirror. You saw your mouth dropped open, eyes at half mast, ass in the air. Terry hovered on top of you, muscles bunching and flexing beneath his effort.

“Fuck, Terry, fuck, fuck,” you moaned. Your body raced towards an orgasm. There was no teasing, no playing coy or shy. There was just the feel of him inside of you. Where he belonged. Where he needed to be. You came in no time, embarrassingly easy, and you screamed your release.

Terry kissed and licked your neck and ear, moaning. His breaths fanned across your neck, right where he licked, and it raised goosebumps on your flesh.

“Missed this pussy. Missed the way you ride me,” he moaned.

“Shh, you talk too damn much,” you said, waving him away. One orgasm only fed the next one, making your thighs shake on him. His thighs hit your ass, creating a perfect, rhythmic smack that was seriously turning you on.

Terry yanked on your hair until you brought your hands up to clutch at his hand. You were on your knees, chest poked out, hissing with pain. Your pussy clenched around his dick, unable to hide how much it turned you on when he manhandled you.

“I think you forgot who you’re talking to,” he said. He kissed your cheek and looked at you in the mirror.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry,” you said. You shook your head.

Terry grinned, showing off that beautiful, devastating smile of his. He grabbed your titty, squeezed the fuck out of your sensitive nipple, and then started ramming in and out of you. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you screamed.

His dick speared you, slamming into your walls. Your very womb ached from his strokes. Wet, loud squelching filled the room. Terry moaned, cursing low and under his breath. Thank god for the towel. You were soaked. And you were flooding his dick with your essence, making you into a slip n’ slide.

Terry groaned, getting lost in it, as he fucked you like a toy. “Takin’ me so well, you a professional, huh?” He asked.

You shook your head, unable to speak. Unable to hear properly. He found that deep spot inside, practically kissing your cervix, dick hitting it with precision. You moaned, low and long. You squeezed the hand that held your hair and he ignored you.

“Keep this up, you gon’ make me bust. That’s what you want, right?” He asked.

You nodded. Fuck, yes, you wanted it. You needed it. You needed his cum inside of you. You wanted to be the only receptacle for his cum. If it wasn’t in his hand, you wanted it all over you and inside of you. You wanted, you wanted, you wanted.

“Words,” he said. Both of you grew damp with sweat. Bodies sliding against each other. Grabbing onto each other for dear life. As if the moment you let go, you’d fade away forever. You’d drown and lose yourself and he was your only tether to the real world. It came down to you connected to him.

“I can’t,” you moaned. You weren’t going to last much longer. You were close again. So fuckin’ close that it hurt. Your tummy cramped, the need to cum overwhelming. You also didn’t want to give in. Didn’t want to concede.

“Admit you need me,” he said.

“Terry, please,” you whined. Terry slowed down his strokes. “No, no, no!”

Terry moved his hand from your titty to lay across your entire chest. He kept you upright with his arm, hand grabbing your other titty so he could roll your nipple between his fingers. You whined and cried, tears gathering in your eyes. “Please,” you whimpered.

“Say you miss me. Say you want this baby I’m finna give you,” he said. He locked eyes with you in the mirror.

He saw everything. Saw the way you were sniffling and pleading with your eyes. You squeezed his hand that was still clutching your hair but he refused to move. His dick throbbed, still lodged inside you, and you wanted to collapse. This was too much for you. Too intense.

“Terry,” you begged.

Terry kissed your cheek, the space beneath your ear, and then licked the shell of your ear. “I need to hear it,” he said, his voice low.

You closed your eyes as you retreated from the edge. You groaned as you could feel it going away.

“I need to hear that you crave this dick. That you get flashbacks, times when I hit it well. That you wake up in the middle of the night, burning, wanting to call me but knowing that if you do, it’s just one more step to me moving back in. Moving back in and taking care of you, of Cadence, of this baby,” he said. He couldn’t help moving a little, rocking you up and down his dick once.

“Fuck,” you moaned. Your pussy clenched around him and Terry groaned.

“I know that pussy want it. Hear how she talkin’? What she trynna say to me?” He asked.

“Don’t stop,” you moaned, voice breathy. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“What’s she really saying?” He asked.

“I want that baby,” you moaned. Fuck, how could you not? How could you not want another tether to him? Another way to call him yours?

Your problems were in the back of your mind. You were tired of sleeping in a cold bed. Tired of handling Cadence by yourself. Tired of doing this shit by yourself. You wanted your man at home. Wanted him deep in your pussy whenever the mood struck.

“That’s my girl,” he said. He started moving again, slamming his dick in and out of you. He moved his hand from your titties to your stomach, stopping to squeeze your belly. You moaned and he squeezed again.

You loved when he did that. When he touched you possessively. Hungrily. Like there was too much skin for him to get to at once. Like he wanted it all, wanted every last inch of you there was to have. You matched his strokes, throwing it back on him.

Terry groaned and moved his hands to your pussy, pushing past your pussy lips and stroking your clit. He rubbed furiously, flicking your clit, and you made incoherent sounds. Sputtered through moans, groans, and “oh my god, yes, please, nut in me, nut in meeeee, oueee.”

Terry growled in your ear and that sent you over. The raw need in his throat. You twitched and jerked, moaning, promising him however many babies he wanted. His chuckle was cut off by a groan as he stroked a few more times before cumming.

He rammed one last time and kept you plugged up while he came and came. Thick, hot ropes of cum painted your inner walls and your brain turned to mush as he did so. His dick throbbed. Your pussy ached. A deep hole was filled by him. By this beautiful, messy, fucked up, toxic man you called the love of your life.

“Fuuuck,” you twitched on his throbbing dick. He groaned as he huffed and recovered from his orgasm, pulling out to watch himself leak out. He spread your ass cheeks, gave it a smack, and then reentered you.

“Ouee, shit,” you moaned, thighs tingling.

Terry chuckled and bottomed out, keeping himself there. “I think we just made a son, baby,” he said and pulled you into a kiss. Your neck ached in this position but fuck it. You wanted his sloppy, wet kisses.

He kissed you sweetly as he moved his hand from your pussy to your stomach, massaging it. You giggled and tapped at his shoulder. “Really mu’fucker?” You asked.

He chuckled and pecked you on the lips. “Just increasing our chances. Get this sexy, beautiful body in the shower. You gotta start taking care of the both of you,” he said.

You laughed and pushed at his shoulder with yours. “You get on my nerves!” You said, disentangling his hand from your hair.

Terry moved, pushing his cum deeper inside with shallow strokes. You hissed and moaned, loving the feeling of him. “I’m gonna take Cadence out to the park. And then we’re gonna have dinner tonight and explain that Daddy’s moving back in,” he said.

You sighed heavily and rolled your eyes. But you didn’t argue. “Yes, Daddy,” you moaned.

Terry pulled out and helped clean you up, taking the soaked towel off of the bed and throwing it in the laundry room. He fixed his outfit and you watched from the bed, sorry he hadn’t gotten naked as well.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back tonight fucking that attitude out of you,” he said.

You gasped and he chuckled, running out of the house before you could call him everything but a child of God.

The end.

You know I can't keep this man off the brain! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

Taglist: YALL. Have overwhelmed with this tag list, thank you!

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover @blackgurlnhermoods @flydotty @sageispunk

@semi-yah @halfreal-and-halffiction @motheroffae @melaninpov @pinkpantheris

@slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @dreamsinfocuss @brattyfics @mermaidchansons

@monaeesstuff @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @charismablu @playgurlxoxo

@misskiki90 @miyuhpapayuh @satoruya @starcrossedxwriter @yamst3rdamctrl

@steampunkprincess147 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @theblacklewinsky @soft-persephone @notapradagurl7

@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

822 notes · View notes

yaksha-lover · 8 months ago

Text

Thus Always to Tyrants

Summary: Lilia has always been an enigma to you; slipping through your fingers at every attempt to get close - follows fae!reader’s relationship with lilia from childhood to the war to present day in briar valley

Lilia Vanrouge x Fae!Reader, small background Meleanor x reader hehe

wc: 3.8k

cw: i’m too into medieval fantasy so i created unnecessary lore (clown noises), also i haven’t read book 7 so prob butchered canon, (but spoilers), angst, grief, unrequited (?) love, pining, mild description of war events/tragedy

Even then, he hadn’t seen you. Before the wars and before the bloodshed, when there’d only been long grass to tickle your ankles and azure skies allowing you to guess at clouds, Lilia had never seen you.

There’d always been something, someone, to distract him.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. It’s easier this way, to imagine that there’s something other than disinterest and disgust keeping you apart.

The forests of Briar Valley are filled with pine trees, their scent so potent you wished you could bottle the air and take it home.

That was where you and Meleanor had met Lilia. You’d grown up in the royal castle, the two of you spending afternoons giggling about the latest court gossip and eating all the sweets you could before the queen could scold her daughter.

That day is one of your fondest memories, and not entirely because of him. The trunk of the giant oak tree was hard against your back, but you hadn’t been able to think about anything but the feel of your princess’ head in your lap. She’d simply closed her eyes and demanded you read to her, dark hair spilling around your legs.

“As you wish, Mel,” you’d agreed, gathering up one of her favourite books.

She’d only popped an eye open to tease you. “Mel, is it? Not princess? Perhaps I should have you punished for such transgressions~” She giggled.

“If I am to be placed in the dungeon, then who will feed you ice cream and read to you, dear princess?” you countered, ruffling her hair.

“Hmm, I suppose your insubordination will have to forgiven…but only if you allow me to remain on your lap for an adequate amount of time. Any sooner, and I’ll have to punish you myself~”

She was temperamental yet whimsical, delighting you as much as she terrified you. Mostly, Meleanor was your best friend. Your only friend, truly. There weren’t many children your age around the castle; you were only there because your father sat on the high council as the master of coin.

After you’d been reading aloud to her for some time, a sudden rustle in the trees caught the both of you off guard. The princess had jumped up quickly, all the combat lessons she’d taken with the head of the Queen’s guard finally paying off.

Out from the vegetation, a short, dark-haired fae who looked to be around your age emerged. He was fitted in what could only be described as rags; torn and stained all over. Despite his disheveled look, you thought he had a certain charm about him.

Meleanor, who’d grown taller than you ages ago, towered over him. It was almost a pitiful sight.

The princess had narrowed her eyes and asked: “Where have you come from?”

“Nowhere,” he’d answered simply, looking down at his feet. “I’m no one.”

That was the meekest you’d ever seen him, no indication of his true vibrant personality.

From that day in the forest, Lilia had been with you. Meleanor had begged the queen to let him stay in the castle, to grow up with you and her as another companion. The princess�� tears worked especially well on her mother, so of course she’d gotten her way.

As she grew up, the princess only became more and more beautiful. You weren’t the only one who noticed, either. The three of you were still young at the time, but Lilia seemed fond and more than fond of Meleanor. The princess returned his affections, but perhaps not with the same intent; she almost smote him when he’d jokingly proposed to her with a ring of grass. It made you angry, for a while. She was your friend first, and now Lilia had come to hog all her time and attention.

It was hard to see your only friend pulled in a new direction, especially one that seemed so far away from you. That was back when you were small; things settled quickly after that, with the three of you falling easily into friendship. There would still be times, occasionally, when you were envious of the friendship shared by Meleanor and Lilia, but it was on both ends. You simply wished to be included, not to have the princess or Lilia all to yourself. That was never a possibility, after all.

As you grew, it wasn’t long before Meleanor fell in love with Levan. You’d been…annoyed, at first, at how fast your friend had seemed to leave you behind yet again.

“You promised to take me flying today, dear princess,” you’d said, trying and failing to keep the gloom out of your voice. “Don’t you remember?”

Meleanor looked up from brushing her hair, making eye contact with you through the mirror. “Forgive me, I cannot turn away Levan…my heart will not let me.”

“But it will let you turn me away?”

She turned now, facing you directly, some of her signature anger evident in her expression. Her violent temper only seemed her grow with her adolescence. “Stop this foolishness! You are my friend, but Levan is my beloved. If you find issue with that, you will leave my castle at once.”

As though you couldn’t feel more humiliated, she’d moved, stopping in front of you and tilting your chin to meet her gaze. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you’d whispered, wondering when things had changed.

And then she’d pulled you into her arms, and suddenly she’d felt all too familiar again, hugging you and telling you she loved you, asking you to always stay by her side. As her dearest friend.

Being cold to Levan only pushed you further from Meleanor, so you were forced to accept his presence. Once the initial hostility dissipated, you found that Levan was quite pleasant.

If Meleanor was always destined to be with another, then you were happy it was someone as great as Levan, at the very least. With your princess’ time now being taken up by her lover, you and Lilia spent much more time alone together than before.

The first time you had the courage to broach the subject of marriages and pairings had done nothing but splash the cold water of Lilia’s indirect rejection on to you. With how cold and empty you felt, it was as though the shivers went bone deep.

Your father had insisted on looking for a match for you. A political marriage to improve your family’s standing, surely. You had protested and held it off as long as you could, but now his asks were becoming unavoidable.

You’d thought - hoped - that Lilia might be interested. He wouldn’t be your father’s number one choice, but he would still accept it; Lilia may not have been of noble birth, but his status as a respected general amongst the court bought him points. Marrying him would certainly be better than any stuffy old fae you’d be forced to settle down with.

It wasn’t just avoiding others, either. You wanted Lilia, as loathe as you were to admit. He was your friend, a close companion, and perhaps you’d even desired more.

It was difficult to voice to yourself that your affections went beyond platonic when you were not so delusional as to imagine that he felt the same in any way.

No, you felt like an afterthought to Lilia. As though you were merely Meleanor’s friend, and not his own. He wasn’t so kind to you as he was the princess, and the affection he held for her, although now platonic, went beyond anything you could imagine receiving from him. Even Levan seemed to bond with him easier than you had after knowing him for years. It was like he tolerated you more than anything; when Meleanor was off with Levan, you were the only option left.

It shouldn’t have hurt so much when he said he didn’t wish to marry. The ‘you’ part seemed unspoken, even though he claimed reasons of freedom and lifestyle instead of saying anything about you.

Regardless, he’d made the decision for you. Your father would ship you away from the castle, to be married to a stranger, leaving behind your beloved…friends.

At least he would have, had the war not begun so suddenly.

If you believed Lilia had hardened his heart to you before, then becoming a war general had hardened his heart to the world. Although it was the last thing on anyone’s minds, had you tried to bridge the gap between the two of you, not only would you have failed, but you might’ve gained a nice scar along with it.

To the untrained eye, Lilia seemed to thrive on the battlefield; swift with strength that went unmatched by any. But you knew better. There was a sense in which Lilia lost himself in action, where he seemed so distant from the boy you’d grown up with; perhaps it was his own way of coping with the horrors he’d been forced to experience, fae he fought alongside being slaughtered. In the end, it hadn’t mattered who they were before the battlefield; nobles and common folk alike fought and fell.

It was torturous to wait out the war in the castle. Every letter that came made your heart race, fear taking ahold as you read through the list of your fallen companions. It almost seemed inevitable that one day Lilia or Levan might appear on the list and send you into despair. Your only saving grace was Meleanor, the two of you keeping quiet company during this time, both not allowed to join the conflict and feeling useless for it.

You begged your father to let you join Lilia; you weren’t the most skilled fighter, but your healing magic excelled beyond any other, and you could hold your own for the most part. He’d denied you until so many had been lost that the queen asked for your service. None of you had known just how close tragedy was, how your departure for Lilia’s camp would mean leaving behind your beloved princess to die.

“Go back,” Lilia had growled at you. It was the very first thing he’d said since you’d come to his camp.

“I’m here to help, instead of rotting away in the castle while my people suffer!” You’d followed after him as he strutted between tents, giving orders to the other soldiers.

He’d shook his head, glaring at you. “You’re a spoiled little noble, you know nothing of the battlefield. Go back home. It’s not safe here.”

“I know I’m sheltered, but I’d like to try and help where I can! I don’t care what happens to me.”

Lilia stopped in his tracks, not facing you as he spoke.

“You don’t care? You’re selfish, you know that? What would Meleanor do without you? What would I-” He shook his head. “I don’t have time for this. Go back. Don’t make me make you.”

“Perhaps I am selfish, but what about me, Lilia? Shouldn’t it matter that I can’t possibly imagine a life where we’re not together, fighting side by side?” Your voice goes quiet. “I had a dream, an awful dream. One where you were dead…I’m afraid. I don’t want that dream to become real.”

You’d thought, for a moment, that his hardened gaze had wavered, but the next second, he’d ordered one of his subordinates to take you back to the castle. Perhaps the softness you believed you saw within him was only a trick of the light.

You’d been a fool. A fool in grief and despair, but a fool nonetheless.

Meleanor’s death had pulled you away from yourself, made you into some automaton which possessed none of your good qualities, for which you had to wonder if there were any to begin with. She’d been your friend, your only family. You should’ve been with her; you should’ve died with her. You should’ve done anything you could, and you’d failed.

It was only by a day that you’d left the castle and missed the fight that occurred.

Meleanor fought bravely, a knight had told you. And Meleanor died.

You waited for Lilia to come back. To come home to you. Your heart sang, a brief reprieve from all the aching when you found out he was alive; he was all you had left.

He never came, at least not to see you.

You fled the castle. There’d been no goodbyes to your father and no concern for Meleanor’s child.

If she’d been around, she surely would have killed you for your selfishness, but your head swam with grief and so you left everything behind.

It had been…surprising, to hear from Malleus. You’d heard amidst your travels that your father still sat on the small council, so perhaps he’d heard of you from him, considering they were together in Briar Valley. Who else would have known about you and your relationship with his mother?

There was General Vanrouge, but he…why would he even mention you at this point?

You’d taken to calling him that in your mind, if only to distance yourself a little more from your past. You heard he’d returned to Briar Valley years after you’d departed, but other than acting as a guardian for the prince and a curious human boy, you had no idea what he was up to.

It was a wonder the world was as big as it was, meaning you’d never run into the general during your travels.

And here, on the desk of your hostel, sat a letter from the crown prince. Your Meleanor’s son. The one you’d left behind.

With the distance of time, a new feeling stirs in your chest. One of unease and shame, yet another failure to the Draconia’s. You hoped the boy was doing well. Would it even be possible to accept if he wasn’t?

Well, he was asking, along with Meleanor’s mother, that you pay them a visit once again. The Queen…you’d abandoned her too, in a way. You dared not hope that she thought of you as another one of her children, but in a way, you’d loved her as a mother.

Heat burned at your cheeks. With your focus on Meleanor, Lilia, and Levan, you’d forgotten there were more people you considered your family. More people that you’d left behind in Briar Valley.

After all this time, you owed them an explanation, no, an apology. You owed them your return home.

Malleus greets you at the gates.

You’re stunned, for a moment. Dark locks of long hair sprawled elegantly across his shoulders, two curved horns peaking out from his head. Piercing green eyes that look into your soul.

He’s the spitting imagine of your best friend.

You try to move forward, but a green-haired fae stops you in your tracks, moving between you and Malleus.

“Keep your distance! Have some respect for your Prince!”

Malleus is quick to shake his head. “Leave them be, Sebek. This is Lord Tyrell’s child. My mother’s childhood friend.”

Sebek is quick to step-aside, bowing before you in apology, allowing you to step forward and hug Malleus. He’s motionless for a moment, and you’re worried you’ve crossed his boundaries, before he slowly slides his arms around your back, returning the hug.

“The resemblance between you and your mother…it is truly incredible. Pardon me for getting emotional, but I wasn’t expecting you to look so grown up…last I saw, you were merely an egg.”

He looks at you, smiling gently. “It’s nice to meet a friend of my mother’s. I feel I hardly know anything about her. Even Lilia refuses to speak of her.”

Your heart stirs at the mention of your former friend’s name. “I hope I can provide some memories of her.” You look away from him. “I only wish I could’ve done so sooner…I apologize, Malleus. I should have been here for you, just as Lilia was. I should have taken care of you, not left you behind when you were only a child…”

He shakes his head once again. “You are here now. That is all that matters.”

“Thank you, I hardly deserve your kindness.”

He returns your smile. “It is what my mother would have wished for, is it not?”

He leads you through the halls of the castle, but you wouldn’t have needed his help to get around. Every wall in the castle is burned into your brain, engrained with a variety of memories.

The halls are vastly the same as you remember; the same silver trim, the velveteen carpets, and the Draconia sigil hung on banners.

Only one thing stands out as different to you: there’s one more portrait than before.

Normally the Draconia family portraits were done about every century, so it made sense that one had been added semi-recently. This one is just of Malleus and Maleficia, occupying a rather empty-looking frame. Even if you didn’t know about Meleanor and Levan, you would know something was missing from it.

Your train of thought is interrupted by the appearance of a Silver-haired boy. He pauses to stare at you for a moment before smiling.

“You must be MC. Father has told me so much about you.” He bows lightly.

“You’re Silver? Lilia’s boy?” You take his hands in yours. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“And you as well. We’ve promised to help some of the younger knights with their training, so Sebek and I won’t be able to stay for dinner, but I hope you’ll stick around. It would be nice to hear about you from more than the stories my father shares.”

“I’ve been gone so long, I certainly intend to stay for a while. Maybe I’ll be able to tell you some stories of your father when he was younger.”

With a nod, Silver is off.

Malleus leads you into the dining room and you catch your first glimpse of Lilia Vanrouge in over a century.

He’s different and the same, all at once. He’s maintained his youthful looks, but his hair has radically changed; cropped and pink, where it once flowed in its red glory.

You turn to greet Maleficia first, bowing in front of her. “It is an honour to dine with you, your grace.”

“Stop that nonsense. Come to me, my dear. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”

The queen embraces you gently in her frail frame.

“I am truly sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s already forgotten,” she whispers back. “The past is the past, and we are here now. Please, take a seat, so we may dine together once again.”

Maleficia and Malleus sit at the head of the table on each side, so you take your place across from Lilia.

“It’s nice to see you again,” you offer.

“You as well,” Lilia replies, seemingly at a loss.

The dinner proceeds, Maleficia and Malleus asking questions about your travels. Lilia chimes in occasionally, but he’s uncharacteristically silent. Or perhaps characteristically? You hardly know him anymore, after all.

Once the final course comes and goes, Maleficia stands from the table. “Malleus, let us take our tea in the garden today. I believe these two have a lifetime of catching up to do.”

With that, the two of them are off.

“I missed you.” You don’t intend the words to come, but they spill out of your heart anyway.

“As did I.”

You fidget with the cutlery in front of you. “You’re still so formal with me after all this time. Have we truly become strangers?”

“You could never be a stranger to me. Not a day has gone by without you being in my thoughts.”

“And yet you never went looking for me. You returned to the castle only after I left, starting a family, raising Silver and Malleus…”

“They needed me. You know that.”

“You left me. You were all I had left after…I would have done anything, followed you anywhere. I would have helped you take care of Silver, Malleus. But you left without saying a thing.”

“I never knew…”

“Of course you did. Everyone did.”

“Nothing good would have come from us being together.”

“At least you’re finally being honest about your feelings. If you hated me as I feared, you should have sent me away the moment I came.”

“Hate? No, it was never like that. The distance between us…it seemed quite impossible to traverse.”

“Distance? We grew up in the same castle for hundreds of years…”

“That’s not what I was referring to.”

“Then to what?”

“You know how they all thought of me. The senate, your father, all believed I never deserved to be so close to you and Mel-” Lilia takes a moment to breathe. “To you and the princess.”

The mention of her name has you squeezing your eyes closed. Even after hundreds of years, it hurts to remember your beloved friend, her sweet memory tainted with the despair of her death. “Why does it matter what they thought?”

“They never would have allowed it. You know that.”

“No, that’s not true. My father said…”

“He lied. He was the first to send me away after her death.”

“He what? I- I was told you left, torn apart by grief.”

“I was in pain, but I always planned to return home…return to you. But the senate, they declared that there was no place at court for me anymore. That I failed- I failed at protecting Meleanor.”

A short silence rings between you. It’s perhaps the first time either of you have heard her name said aloud in centuries.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I never knew.”

“I never wanted you to. I’d rather you hate me than your family.”

“I understand. But you were my family, too. Perhaps the only one who truly had my best interests in mind and not some political scheming or such. And now look at you: Silver, Sebek, Malleus. Against all odds, you’ve found yourself a new family.” While I’ve ended up alone, you don’t say.

“You know I’ve always said, families are better the bigger they are. Perhaps it’s far too late, but-”

“Later’s better than never.”

A moment of understanding passes between you two, perhaps for the first time.

“Your hair…you look quite different from when I last saw you.”

“Hmm, Red was going out of style, I suppose. Although I’m sure you wish I hadn’t changed it. You always did prefer red.”

You shake your head softly. “Perhaps in the past, but we’ve both changed, haven’t we? No, I was going to say that it becomes you.”

The silence that settles between you is filled by an exchange of gentle smiles and a skimming of one hand over the other, until the two finally link together.

#unedited once again #just hoping for the best 🧎‍♂️#also this took me literal months to finish for some reason so if the writing is inconsistent 🥴🥴#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #meleanor draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge #meleanor draconia #malleus draconia #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #twst #twisted wonderland

472 notes · View notes

starfilmz · 3 months ago

Text

i can’t write rn bc writer’s block, but i can’t help but imagine trust fund baby!reader who’s friends with sam when he was in stanford.

i don’t know if trust fund baby is the right label to use but just imagine very rich reader unintentionally (and intentionally) spoiling sam to no end especially when they’re hanging out.

sam would’ve probably preferred hanging out in parks, arcades, diners, etc just simple places where he doesn’t have to spend much money, and you’re not one to complain, but you would pay for almost half (80% if sam wasn’t paying attention) of everything yall buy.

he was used to eating just so he wouldn’t starve to death so he’d only spend money on one meal and a soda, but ever since befriending you, every meal ends with desserts— sometimes shared or not, but since sam can’t stop your sweet tooth and he continuously refuses to let you spend money on him, he’ll let you by one for yourself and you’d always share with him!

arcades are ya’lls favorite spot for sureee. whenever yall are too into a game, sam would fail to notice when you’d spend money on tokens. it would be his turn to play and he won’t realize you’re gone until he finished a round, then he’d just see you carrying a whole bag of tokens.

“if we don’t run out of coins then i’ll have more chances to win,” you proudly say. sam rolls his eyes and grabs a handful from your bag. “or just more times you’ll lose!”

for crane games, when you’d want a stuffed toy so badly, you’ll say:

“what if i just buy the teddy bear?” sam laughs at your words, but he’ll soon learn you weren’t kidding when you somehow managed to convince one of the attendants to let you buy with actual money.

sam walks beside you, staring down on the bear plushie in your arms. “how much did you pay the guy?” you only give him a grin as a response.

drinks are always on your tab unless offered otherwise. sam will always offer, after every night out with you, to buy the both of you greasy food to avoid hangovers though. friday night, usually past midnight, would be the time you’d see yourself eating whatever burger sam ordered for you, sitting on a curb in front of the diner with him.

a few weeks before his law school interview, you offered (forced) sam to let you buy him a suit. when sam first showed you the the suit he planned to wear (which were the ones he’d always use when he pretend to be fbi but you don’t know that) and despite his explanation that a quick wash in the laundry and some ironing it’ll look better, you simply refused and brought him to your usual spot to buy fancy clothes.

“since he’s a bit tall, you’ll need to do a lot of adjustments with the suits.” the saleswoman explained. sam immediately had a worried expression at the thought of you spending even more money, but before he could argue, you would’ve already handed your card to the lady.

“do what you need to do, just make sure we’ll get them back in a week,” you said. you turned to see sam and you could only gave him a reassuring smile at his face. “this is the least i can do for you, sam. don’t fight it.”

in group works, your “friends” would suggest doing the work at your house since you supposedly had the biggest. you don’t keep your upbringing a secret to anyone, but sam can see how uncomfortable you’d be when other people would boast your wealth on your behalf.

“i think doing it in the library is fine,” sam would intervene in the conversation you were already zoning out on. “it’s easier to plan meetings, too.”

“but y/n’s house—“

“—has other people living there. we don’t know if y/n’s parents would agree to every schedule we have so let’s just do the work in the library, or anywhere in the campus.” sam’s hand would be on the small on your back after, as if reassuring you and bringing you back into the conversation when everyone was expecting your response.

you could only nod, eyes on him. “yeah, sam’s right. sorry.” but you still gave him a small smile which was enough for him to know you’re thankful for what he did.

#sam winchester #supernatural #spn #sam winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #jared padalecki #headcanons #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fic #sam winchester x gn!reader #sam winchester fanfic #stanford!sam

94 notes · View notes

lostintransist · 26 days ago

Text

Tomorrows From Before | Part 1

Reader's callsign is Lynx, used in place of name.

CW: Violence, that's all this chapter.

The only nice thing about being pulled up into the 141 had to be the single room. Not having a roommate would let you put up with a lot. The lot that you put up with now would send a lesser soldier to the nuthouse.

You had stumbled over so many odd dynamics in the team. Meeting Price had gone well. He wasn’t terribly old and while he felt like an overworked father, you were grateful to have someone you could solidly place your trust in. Your last leader had been a nepo baby, and while he kept his job your partner had been KIA due to his leadership choices.

Roach scared the shit out of you. He stared. He didn’t try to talk to you, just stared. It got a bit easier when he offered you a controller and then promptly kicked your ass at Mario Party, but he still scared you. Gaz was nice enough, if a bit cool and reserved. Ghost and Soap had to be lovers. You would bet your challenge coin collection on it.

Something about the way the two of them either circled each other like planets locked in orbit or touched in the slightest hint of ways is how you clocked it. You couldn’t decide if no one else knew or if they didn’t care. Fraternization rules be damned you guess. You weren’t in charge of them and wouldn’t take the heat for them getting caught.

Price had everyone running drills today. These drills were different than what you were used to. Each member of the team had to pair up with one other member, run the course, then run it again with a different member. You figured you were the reason for these drills. These guys had several missions under their belts of working together. As the outlier Captain Price wanted to reduce the friction of newness between you and everyone else. It was a good plan.

It would have been a good plan. Should have been. It all fell to shit on your first run.

The 141 had been running the drill alongside the 261, an airborne as opposed to ground crew like them. Should have been fine. They should have stepped up when the fight started when you got dragged into it for daring to visibly exist in a fem-shaped body.

A sergeant with a little man complex and little man syndrome caught you by the braid as you cleared the last room with Gaz. Your boot to the inside of his knee and a backhand across his face shocked him enough that you slipped through the door to freedom. Sergeant barreled after you, catching you under the arm with a shoulder and tossing you a few feet away.

You landed funny, one knee down and one up. The seconds it took you to right had him right on top of you. This is where your teammates should have stepped in. Where they failed you the first time. Right hook to the face split your lip and sent you directly into the open palm that caught you in the ear.

A pain unlike any you had ever experienced knifed through your ear. Disoriented you returned the blows.

Punch, he batted it away. Good that let you step in. Body shot followed by an uppercut to his chin. His teeth snapped together in a satisfying click that you hoped would leave a mark.

Nailing him between the legs with his eyes on the sky he drops to his knees before you.

“That is enough!” Someone yelled. You think it is from the left of you.

Your eardrum has to be ruptured. No tension on the thin skin meant a lack of pinpoint hearing. Stepping back you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand.

Stringy, bloody, spittle coats your wrist to knuckle.

A man you’ve never seen starts yelling in your face.

“What company are you?”

“141.”

“Price’s?”

You nod once sharply.

“I’ll leave him to deal with your punishment for this altercation.”

He rounds on the sergeant still holding his jewels, must be his captain from the dressing down.

Stepping away from the verbal lashing you end up standing in front of the team, scanning for Price.

“You uh,” Soap is speaking to you. “You got something here.”

He points to the side of his neck just below the earlobe.

Fuck. You must be bleeding.

“Sorry? What was that? I COULDN’T HEAR YOU PAST MY BLOWN-OUT EARDRUM!”

No one says anything. They all stare, stone sentries.

“That’s what I thought fuckers.”

You spit the blood that had collected in your mouth and on your tongue on the dirt between your boots and theirs.

“Tell Price I’ve gone to medical and will report at his office in one hour for my punishment.”

“Yep, that’s ruptured.”

The nurse practitioner pulled the otoscope back and her face with it. Stepping around the elevated table you sit on she checks your other ear.

“I felt the membrane tear, I know it’s ruptured. What do I do for it?” You sit still as the plastic piece tickles the inside of your ear.

“Pretty easy actually,” she tossed the cap into the garbage and hung the light back on the wall. “Don’t get any water in it, so showers only, no diving for the next four to six weeks. If you have any leakage or pain come back and we will check for an infection.”

Sliding on the backless wheeled stool the nurse pulls out her notepad, writing down your excuse note for Captain Price. Ripping off the single small page she hands it to you.

“Oh, and if you have to sneeze? Open your mouth.”

Taking the square with a nod you hop off the table.

“Cut them some slack, if you can.”

Glancing down at the nurse she answers the question in your face.

“They nearly lost everyone the entire 141 in the past few months to an American General and an American contractor. Brass threw an accomplished American into the lion’s den to see if they were still tamable.”

The indifference, coolness, and even hostility all made sense now.

You stalk out of the room and out of the clinic without a word to anyone. Everyone who passes you glances from your lip to the dark look in your eyes and shifts from your path. The twenty-minute walk to Price’s office is not enough to cool your rage.

Standing at the solid door you knock, and wait. Twenty seconds pass before the door opens. Ghost, Soap, Roach, and Gaz all trailed out of the office. None of them looked at you, their eyes trained on the floor. You focus on the narrow gaps their bodies allow to see Price staring daggers after them. Once Gaz leaves the door frame you step in and shut the door.

The buzzy overhead lights had been turned off, a few small lamps lit the space instead.

“Thanks for coming by. Sit,” Price gestures to the standard-issue chairs in front of his desk.

You settle in, placing the nurse’s note in the center of his desk. Leaning back you watch him, this British captain. You thought about what had been shared with you. Were you a lamb for the slaughter?

Waiting him out seemed the right choice. It went against the hostage negotiation training you had in the past but if you were the hostage nothing you said would release you from this situation.

Price sighed deeply, tapped the note twice, and looked up at you.

“Tell me what happened.”

So you do, everything you remember up to and including your line in the sand, or rather blood in the dirt, with the guys.

“Sir, I was informed in medical today that I am the canary in the coal shaft. Would you agree that is my role on this team?”

He filled his lungs slowly, ribs expanding and retracting.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

This question seemed to stump him. He leaned back in his chair, fully extending the stretch of the chair. Crossing his arms across his chest he looks at you.

Silence lingers.

“Brass only sees value in the 141 as a joint team. If we can’t prove that we can work with outsiders again then we will be disbanded. The men now know the reality of the situation and I imagine that by the time their laps are done, they will have a plan to make it look like they have accepted you.”

“Are you telling me not to trust them?” Apprehension walked your spine, a spider on a thread of silk.

“I am telling you to be watchful, be careful. You were chosen for your stellar record and for your various training dealing with difficult personalities. They will grow to trust you; Brass wants to make sure you can live long enough to see that flower blossom.”

“And if I refuse to sing for a paycheck?” You lean forward, elbow settling on your knees.

“Then we handle whatever Brass decides. If you don’t want this challenge no one will think less of you for it.” Captain searches your face, no expression passing through his.

Blowing a breath out of your nose you stand.

“If it becomes too much I will inform you. Now about my punishment?”

Sitting upright Price waves a hand as if dismissing cigar smoke.

“I will write up something that will pass muster but I am not adding insult to injury. You did the right thing. The guys are running laps as punishment for not stepping in to save a teammate, even if she didn’t need it.”

He must have caught your mouth opening in defense.

“You are dismissed, Lynx.”

Huffing a breath you leave Price’s office much the same way the guys did, mad.

Shout out to @bernardsbendystraws for the super cute divider!

Masterlist

#cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap cod #kyle gaz garrick #gary roach sanderson #captain john price #ghoap x reader #ghoap x you

125 notes · View notes

yggdrasilhypno · 9 months ago

Text

Come here to gamble your days away, huh?

Not to say that I can blame ya much, seems like about everyone comes in here hoping to score big on somethin’.

Lucky day for you though, I’ve been needing a new volunteer for our newest attraction.

You see, ol’ hoss upstairs has been wanting new games out on the floor. You know, to get the ol’ folks all riled up.

They want the new fancy shmancy stuff, meanwhile we’re a bit more old fashioned.

We like our classics.

And what’s more classic than a good game of cards?

Though, we run things a bit differently here, of course.

Instead of the simple blackjacks or pokers, we prefer the game we dub “Eyeball.”

Never heard of it? It’s easy, I’ll show ya.

All you gotta do is keep your eyes on the cards in front of you and bet on the one in my hand, that’s all it is to it.

Sounds like a magic trick, huh? Kinda is, I gotta admit.

But, whatever gets people through the doors, you know?

So then, let’s start easy. Heck, I’ll give ya a freebie round, just to learn.

Four cards here on the table.

Simple ones too.

We got an Ace of Spades, Ace of Clubs, Ace of Hearts, and Ace of Diamonds.

All you gotta do is watch this Ace of Clubs for me, gotcha?

Keep those eyes on the card, because now it’s going in my deck.

All four cards bein’ shifted around in my hands, keeping those pretty eyes on my Ace of Clubs.

Just keep those eyes on me here, darlin’.

Each card moving around blurrin’ just a bit more in your eyes.

It gets hard to keep track of after a while anyways.

Maybe it’s best if you sit still and really focus on your card.

After all, you gotta win, right?

You want that big payout.

And so, those eyes are just glued to the card, shiftin’ all round now.

And, boom. Here we are.

Four cards on the table. All flipped over.

Which one’s that Ace of Clubs, darlin?

Hard to remember? Come on, you can throw out a guess for me.

Tell you what, guess right and you get some chips, on me.

Just don’t tell my ol’ boss about this, you hear?

Alright, go right on ahead and choose.

Hey hey, you got it right.

Feels amazing when you get it right on the money, huh?

Like you’ve been rocked with endless euphoria under the warmest of suns?

Yeah, that’s the hit of a gambler, alright.

Tell you what, I’ll give you another round here.

But, I throw in the full deck, just so that you get all my rules. Deal?

Good to hear, partner. Let’s hit this one on the head then.

You’ll be looking for this exact Ace of Hearts.

Got your eyes glued on tight onto it?

Keep those eyes on it now.

We don’t want you losing any money now, do we?

Of course, your brain could think about that right now, but it’s too caught up focusing on my cards shuffling and shifting around in my hands.

It’s way easier to worry about which card is gonna make you a winner here, you know.

Keep those eyes on it as my hands go faster and that Ace of Hearts gets thrown around more and more.

My careful hands, seemingly teasing you with the way I’m pulling and pushing the card around in front of you, almost giving away the answer.

Right before i stop, just like that brain of yours.

Right in its tracks.

And I set the cards all down.

And we wait now.

Tell me what card’s yours, hotshot.

Hard to tell, ain’t it?

You know what? I’m a nice guy, we’ll just slide this one as a win for me and you can keep enjoying that nice feeling of nothin’ in your head.

Don’t worry, I’ll just take a few chips here and there while you keep watchin’ the pretty cards a-movin’.

After all, it’s a way better feeling knowing those chips are going right back to the hands that keep shuffling that ol’ brain around, right?

Exactly.

Speaking of that brain, I’m guessing you can hear the casino slowing down around us, huh?

The roulette wheel spinnin, much like that brain o’ yours going around and around, each thought being spun outta control with each game.

Maybe you can hear the slots spinning round and round too, seemingly mixing up your thoughts one by one.

The pretty coins coming out of the machine, shiny and distracting as that pure metal creates that cha-ching you can’t help but love.

Those sounds all creating that perfect atmosphere for a jackpot.

Ah, you felt that? Very good.

Whenever people hear jackpot, they get all antsy.

They can’t help but get excited and overjoyed for obvious reasons.

That payout coupled with all the flashing lights and pleasure that comes with is euphoric.

That’s why whenever I say jackpot, I like to put an emphasis on it.

To really get you to understand how lucky you are.

How lucky you are to be at my table.

How lucky you are for me to handle your chips here.

How lucky you are to be doing so well right now.

You’re on a hot streak, after all.

So keep watching the cards in my hand, shuffling your brain all around.

Scrambling your mind as only I can.

Looking for the cards I tell you to.

Already forgot your card? No problem at all, darlin’.

Just keep those eyes on the cards and no doubt you’ll find one you like.

You do want the jackpot, right?

You wanna win that big burst of pleasure?

Then all you gotta do is give me aaaaall those chips of yours.

Every one of your thoughts, in every one of those chips.

No need to think anymore when you have nothing to think about, right?

Then you can get back to being happy n’ hollow, just the way you should be.

After all, having all those chips is so stressful.

So many numbers and things to keep up with.

It’s better when my words are tellin’ ya what cards you need and what thoughts you think.

It’s better when you’re just watching the cards shuffle your brain all around, like a twister of bliss.

It’s better when you don’t have a single thing to worry about.

It’s better when you’re all out of chips, darlin’.

So why don’t we make a wager then?

All in for the jackpot. What do you say?

That’s what I like to hear.

So then, let’s see if you can find the Ace of Spades here.

Keep your eyes on the card and keep your mind off the game.

All those noises in the background just letting you go deeper into this state of pure bliss.

All you want is that jackpot.

That explosion of euphoria and pleasure.

And you’ll get it soon enough.

Just find me the Ace of Spades when I…

Stop.

And put down one card on the table.

Wanna tell me what it is, darlin’?

Right-o, Ace of Spades.

Jackpot.

Ride it out, feel that high hit your brain and let aaaaaall those thoughts go away.

All those chips go to me.

All your thoughts are mine.

And finally, that mind is all on me right now.

So then, wanna play a few more rounds?

#hypnosis #hypnok1nk #brainwashing #hypnodomme #hypnosub #hypnotized #mind control #brainless #covert hypnosis #casino series

181 notes · View notes

silentmagi · 29 days ago

Text

Rising Star

Sorry about the delay, life got in the way. Welcome back to the story, it’s time to move on to follow the dream. As any grand quest must start off with the rule of three, it’s time for there to be a third member of the insanity. We were faced with the choice of who to have, and it was a tie between:

1) The Swordsmaster's Apprentice - Nebula

and

3) The Rangers

So I did what I thought was best, and flipped a coin. Came up in favor of the rangers 2 times out of 3.

Time to find out what the Rangers say.

The Ranger’s office was a short and squat building on the edges of the castle city surrounding the castle. The tavern nearby was vaguely familiar to Star, as she’d been there more than once, but she couldn’t say she’d ever met the rangers.

At least that’s what she was saying as she tried desperately not to meet the eyes of the rangers that triggered flashes of memories. She really needed to get her bad habits under control before they get her in deeper trouble.

Pushing open the door to the ranger’s outpost, she looked around, and saw the only one seated around a pile of paperwork. At least that made it easier to find the one that could help them get things set up.

“Excuse me,” she offered, smiling at the man behind the papers, who looked up with what sounded almost like a grateful sigh.

“Welcome… Lady Star Crescent? If you’re looking for-” he paused as if trying to narrow down a list, before continuing without any more hesitation. “Any one, please let me know and I’ll see what I can tell you.”

Star gave a nervous laugh while glancing at Luna who was giving her a knowing smirk. “Actually, we’re looking to hire an escort and guide on the college’s authority,” she explained, passing over the scroll the Headmistress had provided. “Should only be two days, and within sight of the castle at all times.”

“I see,” the man stated as he stroked his thick black and white beard. “Suppose we do have someone like that… Sunny, c’mere!” he called out, waving over a ranger in tanned leathers with yellow blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail.

“Sunny, you’re still on probation, right?” he asked as soon as they arrived, the leather armor making it hard to judge gender.

The ranger in question gave a sigh and nod. “Aye, haven’t gotten the clearance from the guildmaster after last time.”

“This job would fall under your restrictions and get you out of he-”

“I’ll take it!”

“Thought so, Sunny, meet Lady Star and Lady Luna, they need an escort for a simple two-day job. If you get good reviews, I know that the guildmaster will listen to praise from them and the Headmistress of the college.”

Star raised a hand to Sunny, thankfully not having a flash of memory about them. “Hello, I am Star Crescent, and this is the bard Luna. She and I are looking to go into the mountains and while it may not be too challenging, there are some complications,” she explained as the ranger read over the note.

“I can see that…” they agreed before letting out a low whistle. “Name’s Sunny, they/them if you’re honoring that.”

“We will,” Star agreed just before she realized there was something behind her. It seems the whistle had brought some attention. Turning slowly, she found something large, and looming, and furry.

#Story #My Writing #Rising Star #My Polls #Star #World Building #Please Participate #Star Main

38 notes · View notes

asordinaryppl · 1 month ago

Text

A3! Backstage Story Translation - Chikage Utsuki SR: Hide the REVERSE - Part 2

this is a request by taruchikas, who also provided a video of the story! tysm!

Chikage: —— Ah.

Izumi: Hm?

Chikage: Found it.

Kamekichi: Really!?

Sakuya: Thank goodness… You found it pretty easily.

Izumi: Oh, there’s a dog on this side.

Chikage: Yeah, this is a space dog named Laika…

Sakuya: …

Sakuya: Um… Is this really the coin you were using before?

Chikage: ——

Sakuya: I remember the coin you usually use having a scratch on it…

Chikage: … Nice memory.

Chikage: You’re right. This is just a spare.

Chikage: The other coin will be hard to find in the dark, and should the worst come to pass, I’ve got this one.

Chikage: There’s no point in dwelling on it now, so let’s call it a day.

Kamekichi: You sure…?

Sakuya: …

Chikage: You don’t need to worry about it. Really.

Chikage: Sakuya, Director, thank you both for helping me look for it. Kamekichi, reflect on your actions. Let’s break it up now.

Izumi: (Is he really okay with this…?)

Sakuya: I’ll look in the flower beds again. Kamekichi, you should go look on top of that tree.

Kamekichi: Roger! Leave it to me!

Chikage: …

Izumi: Good morning, Chikage-san.

Chikage: … Director-san, good morning.

Izumi: Sakuya-kun and Kamekichi have already started searching again.

Sakuya: Oh, Chikage-san, Director, good morning!

Chikage: There you are, even though I said you don’t need to worry about it.

Sakuya: You did, but you carry this coin with you all the time…

Sakuya: It may not be anything of importance, but I figured you might be attached to it.

Sakuya: And I’m attached to it too, because I’ve seen this coin almost every day ever since I met you.

Sakuya: Even if you’re not attached to it, it’s a special coin to me.

Chikage: Attached… That might be it.

Chikage: Then, can I ask you to help me look for it again?

Sakuya: Of course!

Izumi: It’s nowhere to be found…

Sakuya: Ah–

Sakuya: Or not…! Searching is easier now than it was last night, but it’s still hard to find it…

Kamekichi: — Ah! Something’s glittering over there!

Sakuya: Huh? Where?

Kamekichi: Over there! In the corner of the garden!

Sakuya: You mean there…?

Sakuya: …! There it is!

Izumi: Ah, you’re right, it has a scratch!

Chikage: Thanks. I didn’t think we’d find it.

Kamekichi: I’m so glad we found it! I had almost prepared myself to get grilled on a skewer!

Chikage: Now you’re just exaggerating.

Sakuya: Um… How did it get this scratch?

Chikage: … Do you want to know?

Sakuya: Yes!

Chikage: … When I was a kid, I wanted a commemorative medal from the museum so badly that I waited in line for hours to get one.

Chikage: But I was worried I’d drop it, so I asked the museum’s security guard at the entrance to hold on to it until the tour was over.

Chikage: Looking back, that was a pretty selfish request. But the security guard was happy to oblige.

Chikage: When I returned some time later, after the tour was over, there was a commotion at the entrance.

Chikage: The security guard I had spoken to was involved, and I jumped in to help without thinking.

Chikage: And that’s when I realized… he was confronting a robber.

Sakuya: A robber!?

Kamekichi: That’s not good!

Chikage: Before I could tell what was happening, the robber was in front of me. He started mercilessly coming at me with a knife.

Chikage: The security guard immediately got in front of me, and the robber stabbed him in the chest—!

Sakuya: Oh no…

Kamekichi: Dear god!

Chikage: … But he ended up alright, somehow.

Chikage: Why do you think?

Sakuya: Huh? Why did he…?

Kamekichi: Don’t tell me, he was actually immortal…!?

Chikage: He had the coin I entrusted to him in his uniform’s breast pocket.

Chikage: The knife’s tip hit the coin and got stuck there.

Chikage: The robber was then arrested by the police, who rushed to the scene, and the issue was resolved.

Chikage: Then, the security guard handed me the coin, smiled, and said…

Chikage: “I charged it with good luck for you.”

Sakuya: How cool…! Almost like it’s right out of a movie…!!

Kamekichi: I’m so moved!!

Izumi: (... I’m pretty sure only half of that story is real.)

Izumi: Ah, Chikage-san. Are you off to work?

Chikage: Yeah. I’ve been busy all morning.

Izumi: Fufu, we did have a pretty hectic morning.

Chikage: You can say that again.

Option 1: Still, I’m glad we could find it.

Izumi: Still, I’m glad we could find it.

Chikage: Yeah… Me too.

Chikage: I’ll take care not to misplace it again.

Izumi: You should. Or else Kamekichi will take it again.

Chikage: … I’ll grill him for real if he does it again.

Izumi: It doesn’t sound like a joke when you say it, Chikage-san, so please cut it out…

Option 2: By the way, was that story true?

Izumi: … By the way, was that story true?

Chikage: The story about the museum, you mean?

Izumi: Yes. I kind of doubt something so movie-like could happen…

Chikage: Sakuya and Kamekichi’s reactions were so interesting that I might have exaggerated a little.

Chikage: But well, it really is a meaningful coin… We can leave it at that.

Izumi: (Why does it feel like he’s trying to dodge the question…)

Izumi: (Well, I’m just glad he found the coin.)

Izumi: Oh. Can we have a coin battle?

Chikage: Now?

Izumi: Yes. Except this time, instead of guessing left and right, I’d like to try guessing whether it’s head or tails.

Chikage: … Alright.

[Chikage flips the coin]

Chikage: Here. Heads or tails?

Izumi: Hmm…

Izumi: (I tried to change the type of battle, but… I still have no idea…!)

Izumi: (... Uh, I don’t even know which is heads and which is tails for that coin…)

Izumi: (I suggested this, but I don’t even know that part…)

Chikage: —Sorry, It’s heads.

Izumi: (F-For now, I’ll—)

Izumi: … Tails!

Izumi: … I thought that was tails, though.

Izumi: Wouldn’t I be the winner then?

Izumi: (I-I’m sounding a little too desperate here…)

Chikage: … Pffft, hahaha.

Chikage: … Alright, you win.

part 1 | part 2

#a3!#translation #a3! translation #chikage utsuki #sakuya sakuma #izumi tachibana

29 notes · View notes

i-rate-horse-games · 4 months ago

Text

rating Horse Life on Roblox

i made a roblox account just to play this game, and i’m glad i did. this game is what Horse Isle 3 wishes it was.

gameplay: horse breeding!!! FAST horse breeding!! not limitless, but not paywalled! there are in-app purchases, but i barely noticed them the whole time i was playing. there’s little quests to complete in order to unlock the ability to tame cooler horse-like species, and while doing them you get a better feel of what the game is all about. there’s tons of coat variation, size variation, and there’s always the chance for spontaneous mutations to show up and grant your horse 10% extra speed, jumping ability, wings!? wings that have different levels to them, and at which level 3 allows you to fully fly around the map? the coat variations don’t seem to have to do with genetics, which is a little annoying when you breed a black and white horse with an Orange horse and you get a poor foal that looks like a moldy jack-o-lantern got trampled into mush. there’s a cosmetic challenge, where you try to breed a horse that matches the one on display, which i feel like is a challenge some of you guys would love!

you can catch horses two ways, by lassoing it on horseback or by feeding it by hand, which presents you with a fun little minigame sorta like that locks task in among us that most people don’t like but that i love because i got rhythm muahahah. you can breed any two horses together, even horses that are different species, although the offspring will always be just one species and fertile. after you breed two horses together, your mare will only be pregnant for about four and a half hours, which you can just completely skip for free by feeding them whatever food you foraged while training your horse’s strength stats! and then you can just. Keep Going until you run out of food or stable space. and you can upgrade stable space and inventory space just by playing the game, for free! love that!

also, you can play as the horse, which makes for some funny interactions. i just tried to tame a horse who i think was a person because i couldn’t feed them and they kept shaking their head at me. but . i’m also not SURE that it wasn’t a wild horse. it was acting perfectly like a wild horse. oh man. no i think that was just a normal horse. but what if

between catching wild horses, breeding your own, and training them to raise foals into adults or just make your favorite mount even tougher, this game has a lot to offer! there’s a few NPCs to talk to every day to level up their bond, there’s giant statues and ruins that allude to a mysterious past, and there’s even a centaur ominously standing on the edge of the map, gazing out over the ocean. and the game isn’t even finished! recently it got an update that allows you to fish for kelpies (water horsies) with a fishing rod, making them slightly easier to find. there are a few buildings in town that have almost nothing in them but are clearly intended to be a saloon and a jail, so i’m interested in seeing where that goes! i’m also curious if they will ever fix the fact that if you walk into the ocean you just instantly plummet through the world & teleport back to town, or if you’re lucky (like mee) you’ll respawn underneath town on the secret Second Floor, which you can then fall from and get stuck in an unceasing loop, watching your home slip away from under your feet, your poor horse falling after you, over and over and over again. that’s just part of the magic, honestly, no complaints there. it was fun. i’ll do it again.

also while i was playing, they launched an update that adds horse races! it's a fun little mariokart-ish loop that lets you lap your opponents, and winning gives you fun prizes! they called me the horse king in college

one small thing is that the in-game not-paid currency is in these horseshoe coins, but in the shop if something costs more than 1,000 coins, they’ll abbreviate it as… 1.5k $ . dollar sign. that’s a little odd, but alright. when i was a kid I had an ipad for exactly 1 night before i accidentally spent $50 of my parent’s real money to unlock giraffes in a zoo game. i remember hesitating at the sudden shift from in-game coins to dollar signs, then thinking “surely this isn’t real money! nobody would spend fifty real dollars to buy giraffes in a zoo game!” and then i clicked it and got in trouble lol

playerbase: chat tends to stay pretty quiet, except for when two players who are already friends come online and use the global chat like their own dms. i saw many references to playing while in the car & someone bragging about staying all the way up until 10pm so safe to say most of these people are ipad kids. i was impressed with the amount of organization before one of the spirit totem summonings, an hourly event where players work together to win goodies.

they were shouting out directions to new players, suggesting which lassos to use, reminding everyone to turn off the Show Player Horses setting so that we wouldn’t lag and disconnect in the middle of the fight. when i neighed in the chat eventually people started neighing back. i only saw one person being slightly annoying and it was just kinda funny. there is a chat filter but i can’t tell if there’s any active moderation or anything. you do have the ability to report players, and that goes through Roblox, not the horse game, so that’s probably good. Internet Safety! also if you look up questions about the game most of what comes up are tiktok videos which is a first for me lol

graphics: pretty! low-polyish so it loads nicely but colorful and feels right for the setting. there’s just the right amount of Stuff in the world for it to feel filled but not crowded. whenever the day/night cycle or weather changes, the whole world quickly switches lighting effects, but not all at once. it sorta rolls over the map. but things that are far away look bluer! nice touch. love it

music: a very short loop that got old fast, but it lets you turn off just the music in settings and still keep the lovely ambiance! i always really appreciate this setting. i wish splatoon 3 would let me do this. i play that game so much i have every battle track seared into my memory. but this isn’t really a part of rating a game lol i just like to mention it in case a game has really great music that i can add to my Horsey Time playlist. what the game does have is ambient bird noises which i LOVE. that’s a W from me

all things considered, i’m rating horse life on roblox FIVE OUT OF FIVE STARS!

★★★★★

this is the first 5/5 horse game i’ve rated!! that puts it above alicia online which is kinda funny.

here’s me with the largest and smallest horses i’ve bred so far!

side notes: why does roblox stop me from naming my player character “butch” but not “butchy”? no one else can see what i named it, it’s just so i can quick change faster. also, that means that their filter doesn’t search for words inside words, which isn’t a great system. also, butch is also a name? also, what’s wrong with butch? i did try playing this on my old 5th generation ipad to try and get the Roblox Kid experience, but my ipad wasn’t strong enough. it got a memory full warning before it crashed and felt concerningly warm, which it’s never done before, so that’s neat!

#horse game #horse life #roblox #horse life roblox #horse #horse video game #horse game rating #*you can be a boy #*you are the horse

43 notes · View notes

thebluestbluewords · 9 months ago

Text

The Same Coin

I’m still having fun with the Valentine’s ficlets, so have some benlos! Set in no particular timeline, but there’s a nod to poly ot5 in the background.

“We don’t celebrate valentine’s day. On the Isle.”

Ben tilts his head. His face is set into one of the middle levels of the Neutral Face of Acceptance, one of the ones that means he’s genuinely listening, not just trying not to look horrified while he thinks about other things. “Oh?”

“It’s about feelings,” Carlos says slowly, trying to come up with a way to say the next part that won’t sound horrible. “And like, love, and stuff. And. We weren’t exactly. Allowed. To do that.”

Ben cocks his head somehow further into the Neutral Acceptance Position. “What, to love people?”

Nail, head.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’m…” Ben trails off into silence for a moment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would be so different for you four. Valentine’s day is so…”

“So commercialized?” Carlos says, before he can think twice about how mean it sounds. He’s supposed to be having a meaningful moment where he gets to help the king reach some sort of shared cultural understanding with the poor sad Isle kids he’s so kindly pulled out of their pathetic former existence, and instead of being sincere, like an Auradon kid should be, he’s making fun of Ben’s beloved holiday. And like, family tradition. Probably. He should just stop thinking. “I mean, uh. Not that buying your girlfriend stuff is a bad thing. It’s fine. The more stuff you buy here, the more junk people have to donate to us, so. I’ll just. Uh. Stop talking.”

Ben smiles, but his expression had slipped into something more like a strained grimace, all tight and fake around the eyes. “I was going to say ingrained in our culture.. We’re taught to value love, so I assumed that the same would hold true for you. I should have known better.”

“Ouch.”

Ben goes red. “Not that you four don’t feel love!”

It’s easier to look at Ben now that they’ve both put their foot in it. “I feel rage,” Carlos offers, softly. “If that helps at all.”

“It’s not quite the same thing.”

“Two sides of the same feeling,” Carlos says, feeling the weight of the words as they leave his mouth. “My mom’s not a great example, but she told me that you can’t hate something if you don’t love it, at least a little bit. They come from the same place, y’know. When you feel so much that there’s nowhere else for the feelings to go. They either come out as love, I guess, or if there’s too much, or the love isn’t reflected back…”

Ben nods, and reaches over to take his hand. “Rage?”

“Hatred, anger, jealousy.” Carlos ticks the feelings off on the fingers of his free hand as he goes. He doesn’t exactly like holding hands, because there’s too many opportunities to get distracted and leave yourself open if you’re walking hand in hand with someone, but it’s okay right now because they’re not moving, so there’s no way for Ben to pull him down and make it look like an accident, and they’re alone enough that nobody’s going to shout at them for doing it, and it’s still light enough that they could see anyone coming and let go before they’d get in trouble. “They’re all the same feeling. If obsession is good you end up in love with the thing, and if it’s bad you end up hating it with the same enthusiasm.”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you,” Ben says softly. He’s doing a distracting thing with his hand, a little squeeze that’s drawing all of Carlos’s attention to where they’re connected. “Do you ever think that maybe your mom was wrong?”

“About dogs, and driving cars, and how much pepper should go on food, yeah.” Carlos says. “But not this.”

“Oh.”

“Not–” Carlos stutters around the words. He’s not sure what he even wants to say, but he’s so sure of this one. He used to hate Mal, back home when she was the one pushing him into closets and lockers and stealing his inventions, and then it was like a switch got flipped and all the times he’d followed her around to make her day worse, to try and spit gum into her hair from rooftops, and drop salt into her coffee when she left it on her school desk all seemed petty and stupid in light of how much he was suddenly devoted to her. He’d hated Jay too, up until the moment when he looked over at the wrong time, and all the feelings switched over into confused-hungry-aching, and he couldn’t stand to look at him, until his feelings for Mal settled into place and he fell in love with the both of them.

He’s never not loved Evie, but Evie’s special.

“Not like that.” Carlos says, finally. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s just that I don’t know how to have emotions like normal people do, and for me, they’re sort of the same thing.”

The callouses on Ben’s writing finger slide against the rough skin on Carlos’s knuckles. The places where he’s split them open from hot water and abrasive chemicals don’t hurt anymore, but they catch, against the rough pieces of Ben.

He’s wearing them down. Evie’s helping, with her potions and chemistry. They’re working on it together.

“Okay,” Ben says, and he’s not looking at Carlos. “Is it okay if I say I love you anyway?”

The horrible-wonderful feeling that’s somewhere between fear and anger and love bursts hot and painful in his chest.

“Yeah,” Carlos whispers. His voice cracks anyway, because it’s stupid that way. “I can’t– I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to say it back. But I don’t hate you.”

A squeeze.

“I love you too.”

#my fic #descendants #descendants fic #ben florian #carlos de vil #benlos #ship of my heart….#I know I write for everything but benlos truly was the first ship I got deeply invested in for this movie #the good boy scene was deeply influential. To me.

81 notes · View notes

kyojurosprettygirl · 1 year ago

Note

Hi hi hello! May I request a fluffy Genya x fem!reader?

Something like he got injured during a mission and she gos to visit him at the butterfly estate to surprise with slices of watermelon to cheer him up! ((Cuz you know that’s his favorite!)) maybe even gentle kisses on his fresh new scars? Idk just anything sweet and fluffy! I’ll be happy either way!^^✨

a/n: HOW CUUUUTEEEE!!! im such a sucker for Genya content (>_<) i love ur idea and i hope you enjoy reading this. this is inspired by summertime sadness since, watermelons r a summer fruit, no? (UvU) Also, tumblr deleted the post so i had to copy and paste, but i don't know if it chipped some things off. LET ME KNOW!

late is better than never .

Genya Shinazugawa x Fem! Reader

as the sun slowly crept its way into view, Genya had realized then he had once again missed one of my your dates. he holds as many wounds as he can with his one useful arm tighter and winces, cursing himself for doing this to you. he stands for a moment, thinking how he could make it up to you.

you gasp as you gently wrapped your arms around genya's and pulled him toward you, leaning your head onto his shoulder. "Genya look!" you point ahead. "huh?" he looks curiously to where your pointing and immediately sees what your seeing, you both look at each other and smile big, running towards the watermelon stand. the old couple running the stand knowingly look at each other and laugh, standing up and readying themselves to greet you and genya. they quickly thought of how they were once young and in love, you and genya easily making them reminisce their teenage love. once you were standing infront of the couple, you excitedly spoke to them, any anxiety leaving your body. "I hadn't realized they were in season!" you smiled wide, the old lady nodded at you, her smile never leaving her face. "well they are, my dear! would you and your boyfriend like a slice? on the house!" you gasped and held your cheeks, disregarding the boyfriend comment. "your serious?" she nods and pushes the tray toward you. you gently grab the prettiest slice and push it towards genyas face. "say ah" genyas ears turn red and he opens his mouth, allowing you to feed him. he also disregards the boyfriend comment. his eyes widen and any nervousness he had before had completely left him, the slice tasted amazing. he gently grabs the slice from your hands and feeds it to you, and your eyes widen back at him. he laughs at yours and his expression, "it's the best isn't it?" he says, and you nod. "the best i've ever had!"'you eat more of the slice, "we should get an entire melon! no, let's get three! two for you and i to share and one to share with the others!" as you and genya speak of the melon, the old couple look fondly at the scene. "she reminds me of you my dear," the old man says, she snickers and looks at her husband, "and he reminds me of you, always behind me waiting for me to speak for you." they share a laugh, and as you reach into your pocket, genya steps infront of you and looks at the old couple, "how much for the entire stand" you gasp and grab his arm, "genya!" the old lady laughs and the old man widens his eyes, "are you serious?" the man says, genya scratches his neck. "well, not really." he looks to the side, and takes out as many coins as he has, "but i'll take as much as i can get." before the couple says something you take some of your coins out as well, placing them down with genyas, before he can say something you move your hands to form a 'shut your mouth' motion and look at the couple, "this will get us more right?" you and genya left with two woven baskets full of melons, each one holding 7, leaving the old couple with two melons left to sell. he wouldn't let you carry even one melon to make the load easier. "let's do this again" genya says, smiling at you, you nod and smile big, "we should! i had a lot of fun today" he shyly looks away and grabs your hand, "how about next week?"

it's the third week he's said that.

"-r arm." genya snaps out of his thoughts and looks next to him, it's Tanjiro. "huh?" genya says, looking at Tanjiro will his full attention. tanjiro smiles, a warm aura oozing out of him, trying to calm down after the hard fight. "i was saying if i could bandage your arm" genya looks over at his arm as tanjiro points, his blood is practically decorating the floor. but before he could answer a sharp pain hits his rib. his vision gets blurry as his breathing becomes labored and he begins to pass out, your shadowy figure filtering his vision just before he closes his eyes.

he wakes up in one of the rooms in the butterfly estate, it's about noon and the comfort he feels pisses him off. he shouldn't be there, he should be apologizing to you, again. he looks to his side, the action hurting, and he sees Tanjiro speaking to some of the girls in the butterfly estate. "is y/n going to be here?" Tanjiro said, already aware of genyas affections towards you. one of the butterfly girls nod, "y/n should be coming soon, she mentioned she had slept late when she came by in the morning so we sent her back home to rest a little longer. Aoi sent someone to get her." guilt begins to eat at his heart, you had waited for him the entire night, regardless of the fact that you had promised to help the girls clean in the morning, "i see," tanjiro says, looking at genya. he jumps at seeing his eyes open, "your awake!" he smiles, "what a relief," tanjiro says. genya nods and closes his eyes, sighing, "what a relief," he says back. he opens his eyes and sits up, one of the girls quickly rushing to his side, "slowly genya! your ribs are still broken, you have to take it easy." he grumbles, rolling his eyes. he sits up fully and looks around the room, "can i be alone for a moment." he pauses, "please." and they all nod, leaving him be. "Aoi is almost done with the food, so you should be getting your lunch soon." one of the girls says, smiling before he closes the door. he looks over himself and noticed many fresh scares adorning his flesh, and he can't decide wether to love or hate them. they look and feel ugly, but he feels a little stronger than before, a familiar feeling of weakness creeping up his chest. he won't amount to sanemi, ever, and these scars make him feel ugly, not strong like they usually do.

Aoi hands you the plate of food, warning you that it's hot and to be careful. you quickly brush her off and thank her as you barge into genyas room. as he prepares to cuss out the person who came in against his wishes, he calms down as he sees you and looks away. he can feel his throat get tight and his eyes gloss over. you exhale in relief but your movement remain frantic, excitedly running to him. you close the door and rush to put his food on the table next to him, placing the box you held behind you and straddling his legs carefully. you grab his face and make him look at you, and since he can't bring himself to push you away, he just holds onto your wrists tightly for support. your hair is messy and not done in its usual style as your eye bags remain prominent and your face is puffy, a telltale sign that you had just woken up. he looks at your lips and sees they're still a tad bit glossy, not allowing himself to continue to look at them. it feels like a punishment, but the feeling dies out as he looks at your cheeks and nose. your cheeks a tinged with pink, and your nose is still sun burnt from the time you'd gone to the markets together. your hands are warm against his cold skin, and he leans into your touch. you smile wide in disbelief and a few tears roll down your face. he moves his hands to wipe them as they come down , his brows furrowing. "no no no, don't cry, please.." his throat is tighter than ever and he swallows every word he was thinking of saying, he wants to cry with you. you close your eyes and hug him softly, a great contrast to your usual bone crushing one's, and feel all around him. his hand gently makes its way up to your head, and he cradled it, digging his fingers into your hair. "just-" you choke out, "you're alive. your physically here, oh my god." you pull away, although hesitantly, and take him in. he was wearing a loose patient shirt, and it gave a full view of his arms and neck. you rested your fingers on the buttons of it, and looked at him. your eyes met his, 'can i?' he nods, his eyes speak for him, 'you can do whatever you desire.'

you unbutton it he lets you see his upper body freely. you can see many fresh wounds, some bandaged and some are already scarred, his demon powers you think. he shrinks into himself as you gaze and you nod no, "you're beautiful, genya." you exhale, and push him down slowly in a means to not irritate his wounds. "i was worried sick," you cry, he continues to wipe every tear that makes its way to your chin, "when Aoi woke me up, and told me what happened, i wanted to scream," you hold his hand and lean in, "i was so pissed-" you choke, "why didn't she tell me right away? why did she wait until you were stable to tell me, i mean-" you breathe in, "what if something had happened during your treatment, and i had spent my time sleeping through it," you shake your head. "i would never forgive myself, im supposed to be with you through it all, through every second ." he nods at you, "but i'm okay." he says, and you laugh. "you're okay, yes." you sniffle as you smile but frown soon after, "they were surprised you survived. a lot of blood loss, i saw all the bloody rags outside.. i felt my heart drop to my stomach genya." he can only imagine how he'd feel if he was in your place. "im just glad the news i got of you was that you were expected wake up, and not your time of death." he takes a hand off your face and holds your hand. he hasn't smiled at all, and his gaze is distant. you move your head, and kiss his palm gently. he blushes and as his lips part in shock he shuts it when you lean into his chest. you take a second to hear his heartbeat and when you feel it's enough you kiss the spot. he debates on holding his breath or not. you slowly get up and trace the new scars, kissing them when your finger meets the end. and you do this all over his chest, stomach and arms. "i don't know how you do it," you softly say. "all these," you kiss the biggest scar, "and you still remain standing. Tanjiro told me how long you held out, i really don't think i'd ever be able to do it." you grab his arm with the most wounds and sob, "they make you look so tough," you giggle as you squeeze his bicep after noticing the muscle flex when you grabbed it, "gyomei fed you well, didn't he" he blushes and exhales a small laugh. mainly out of disbelief. you kiss all over his arm gently, and begin to give him butterfly kisses up to his neck. you begin to position yourself comfortably and rest your head in the crook of his neck to continue to give him butterfly kisses. you place your hand on his heart and he places his hand over it, not wanting you to take it off. he wraps his arm over your shoulder and pushes you closer into him as he kisses your head, letting it linger for a second more.

you both lay there for a moment before you suddenly gasp. "Genya your food!" you push yourself up too fast for his liking. you grab his food

and set everything up as you help him sit up. before you can feed anything to him he grabs your hand. "i need to apologize." he whispers, and you lean your head in confusion. "what do you mean?" you say,

"last night," he pauses, " i left you waiting." your mouth forms an 'o. "you're here now, aren't you? you were only a few hours away from me, if i had waited just a li-" he clamps his hand over your mouth, shaking his head no "you shouldn't have needed to wait, y/n" he is serious, and you know he feels guilty, he isn't being playful with you like he usually is. he takes his hand off your face "i would wait forever for you." you whisper. he silently winces and his chest tightens. "you're only a day late genya.. your here with me. better than never right?" he nods. "i forgive you, genya, but i promsie you i do not mind." you begin to grab the utensils to feed him, "were slayers, and you're a higher rank, i knew what i signed up for. it's okay." you feed him a piece of his food, and he realizes that it's true. he had nothing to worry about, your understanding nature quickly eased his worries, why was he so worried. "i forgive you, because i know you'd never do it intentionally." he nods again. "you're my happiness genya." you smile at him. "oh! one more thing." you reach behind you and the box you had, watermelon slices overtaking his vision. you smiled wide, " cut some melon up for you!" he hugs you tight, albeit suddenly, and when he pulls away he kisses you. it was a lingering kiss when he pulled away, and he takes you in, the sun rays peeking in from the blinds making you look even more beautiful than before. "i love you, and i've been wanting to tell you for a while now." he blushes and you follow in suit, " love you too.." and you hug him again, knocking the wind out of him, "oh sorry sorry! i forgot.." you say. he waves his hand 'it's okay' and you both share a laugh.

that night, you and him had danced under the moonlight right outside of the estate. not that he knew how, but he wanted to spend the night with you in any way possible, eager to be close to you. it was a sight that had made shinobu smile fondly at you both, thinking of how he could bring it up to gyomei when he sees him again. you had worn the clothing he bought you, and he spend the entire night telling you what you missed, ready to listen to what he had missed from you. it was late, but neither of you needed to wake up early the day after.

funfact! every time watermelons are in season, the old couple awaits yours and genyas return. when the summer you and genya hadn't shown up came, they had a hard time closing for the night, telling themselves you and genya had simply moved.

right before closing, Sanemi came over and bought their entire stand, cutting and giving the watermelon out with Giyuu to the village kids.

they had intially mistakened him for Genya, asking where you were, and Sanemi had to sadly explain that you and genya were no longer alive.

Since then, the couple gave flowers to Sanemi for him to place on yours and his graves, until one summer their stand was never put up.

135 notes · View notes