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jades-typurriter · 3 months ago

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Mascot Mall Haunt

This one is a commission from over a year ago, in which the client's clothing-bound hive mind spooks and seduces the reader into trying them on for a spell. You know my writing: they get horny as fuck about it. Enjoy <3

CW: Plushophilia

Well, you think to yourself, here we are.

You stood in front of an abandoned mall, a few minutes outside your town, just off a quiet highway. You hadn’t gotten out for quite a while, and you decided that you wanted to literally stretch your legs, and metaphorically spread your wings—do something a little more daring, to help you break out of the calm, if a little boring, routine you'd been in for the last few months. You needed some excitement, and urban exploration (a little bit of trespassing, and a little bit of chasing rumors of a ghost in the building), seemed like just the thing to spice up your weekend!

You ducked through a gap in the boarded windows, through a web of bright-yellow CAUTION tape. Forget caution! Caution was for throwing to the wind! You felt quite brave as you strode through the main thoroughfare of the dim building, lit mostly by sun that slipped in through the windows at the outer walls, and skylights the deeper you went in. It had been closed for a few years, but it wasn’t anywhere near as dilapidated as you’d expected. Too many post-apocalyptic movies had shaped your idea of abandoned buildings to be overgrown, perhaps with small animals having weaseled their way into the structure; instead, it was mostly just dusty.

There hadn't been anything you’d describe as “paranormal”, either, and you’d already been through about half of the rooms and storefronts in the mall. Some of them you couldn’t access—they were shuttered with that chain link curtain that some places used for security after closing, and you didn’t bring bolt cutters or anything of the sort to force your way in. You swept your flashlight around those places and, finding nothing interesting, moved right along. Other stores still had some merchandise left in them, apparently not worth the cost of hiring movers to take their stock elsewhere. You pocketed a few things, putting them in your bag and making a note to wash them at home before you used them, but honestly, the leftover goods were one of the creepiest things you had seen so far. Something about a building that was clearly meant to be filled with people, with space everywhere for decoration and signage, instead filled with half-blank walls and undisturbed goods, like everyone had left in the middle of filling the place up and simply never come back.

If you were being honest, it started to make your skin crawl, as you got further and further from the gaps to the outside. The darker the building became, the more and more wrong it felt to be walking around inside it; you really did feel like you were sneaking around after-hours, and you couldn’t shake the sensation that you were being watched. Eventually, you came across a costume shop in one of the far corners of the mall. You'd read about it online, and you’d always wanted to visit, but… indulging in your fascination with plushies and mascot suits was just too embarrassing to do in public, so you’d never gone while the mall was in business. You shine your flashlight ahead of you and, despite the heebie-jeebies, you press on to see what it was that you had idly, hushedly daydreamed about for so long.

You passed between racks and racks of fuzzy, soft-looking, suits, almost each and every one of which you wanted to stop and hug. You didn’t, of course; you assumed that most of the costumes here had gotten musty after several years of disuse. That didn’t stop you from getting a closer look at some of them, though! You recognized some of the characters, though you hadn’t yet seen any of your… well, you wanted to say “favorites”, but admitted to yourself that you meant “crushes”. As you leaned over to examine one more closely, you jumped, startled by a noise behind you. You whipped around, swinging your flashlight with you: nothing. You sighed, shaky, and saw something move out of the corner of your eye. Did something just jostle that suit? Was it an animal? Was it—

You hear footsteps. Not just one pair, but many, many pairs, as though the crowds had returned to the mall all at once. You whirled, watching as mannequins and suits from all over the shop crept closer to you.

“Hello?”

“Who’s this?”

“Ooooh, hiii there!”

Tens and tens of voices, all eerily similar, all speaking over each other, closing in tighter and tighter around you:

“What have we here?”

“Someone’s poking around where they shouldn’t be,” came the voice from one mannequin.

“Nmph, whuh cooh hey wanh?” choked a reply from the mouth of the costume draped across it.

“What… what do you all want?” You squeaked, beginning to panic. “Is this real?!” You brandished your flashlight like a makeshift club, hoping that the bright light, or at least the display of force, might scare them away. You honestly weren't sure what the rules were with ghosts, and you were kicking yourself for not doing a little more research before diving right into this stupid place.

The public announcement system crackled to life, and another voice buzzed through the broken-down speakers in the ceiling of the store.

“Oh, I think we’re scaring them!” the new voice droned, giving the models some pause. One by one, they all began laughing, almost as if this were some sort of faux-pas that they hadn’t considered.

“Well, we are coming on a bit strong, aren’t we?”

“What a cutie! Poor thing.”

Your face burned with embarrassment. Now the ghosts were mocking you. You definitely didn’t research how to handle that. One of the suits stepped forward, padding across the floor with a sound like a pair of slippers. It was surprisingly coordinated for an empty set of clothes, and you noticed that they didn’t sag the way you expected for fabric hanging on a human frame. The sleeves themselves were like tubes of muscle, supporting their own weight, and the same was true for the pant legs and the trunk of the costume. When it had closed the gap between you and the ring of mannequins, it extended a glove.

“I’m Soot,” the suit tittered.

“...Nice to meet you?” you offered, not wanting to offend the veritable undead army you found yourself surrounded by.

“As if it’s a question. That,” it continued, pointing a mannequin, “is also Soot. As well as them over there,” it continued, pointing at yet another suit, and so on, and so forth.

“Wait, so… Are you all the same person?”

“Mmm,” the costume pondered, “not quite.”

“So you’re a bunch of separate ghosts, then?”

“Hmhmhmm,” Soot laughed, wryly. “Ghosts? You really are cute!” You were starting to feel a little insulted. “Here, why don’t we just show you? As a matter of fact, in the interest of being a good host, you can decide what we’ll demonstrate on.”

“Demonstrate? Are you going to possess something?” You breathed a sigh of relief that they didn’t seem set on using you as a test dummy.

“You could say that.” With barely a wave to the other Soots, they all scattered back throughout the store, pulling seemingly-inert costumes from the racks and bringing them before you in a long line. Just like when you were searching on your own, there were plenty of unfamiliar designs, and a few you recognized, but one made your eyes widen when you saw it: blue and white faux fur studded with white felted spikes. A Lucario suit, in pristine condition, and just about your size—maybe just a size larger. You realized that Soot had been preserving all these clothes. Maybe to live inside them? Either way, you couldn’t believe the luck of a find like that in a place like this!

“It seems as though our guest has made a selection,” intoned the Soot holding the Lucario, voice dripping with anticipation. They must’ve been able to tell how excited you were by your face; you felt your cheeks burn at the idea of embarrassing yourself in front of them any further, but… you didn’t object. A Lucario suit, brought to life by some kind of ghost… it was like something out of a fantasy!

You watched as the other Soots cleared the area, leaving just you, the sole Soot, and the Lucario costume illuminated by your flashlight. More hissing emanated from the speakers overhead. As you turned your beam up to look at them, you saw oily, black tendrils emerging from the mesh, oozing like ink and twisting like smoke. They descended on the Lucario, wrapping it in their hazy embrace, poking and prodding at all the holes and seams in the costume, filling it like fog fills a forest. As it was more and more saturated by the mist, it began to twitch before your eyes, once again moving as though under its own power, rather than driven by a mass of smoke from inside. The see-through fabric of the eyeholes stretched as the pupils focused on you; the locs of fur on the head of the suit waved in the air.

“So you… you aren’t ghosts…” The smile sewn into the muzzle separated with a sound like tearing velcro, and the jaws moved as it replied.

“No, we are much more corporeal than that, dear guest. Ghosts do not… spread,” Soot decided, settling on the right word with a thin smile on their face. “Now, why don’t you join us?”

“JOIN you?!” You jumped, afraid that you had spoken too soon about being a test dummy. “Are you gonna… do you�� are you gonna infect me, too?” Soot barked a laugh.

“No, no! ‘Us’ as in… the pronouns you humans use are difficult for a being such as ourselves. I apologize. You simply seemed fond of this new body of ours, and it’s been quite a long time since we’ve had a new plaything.” Indignation welled in your chest at the idea of being passed around as a toy between all these suits (though you couldn’t ignore excitement welling up in you the more you considered the idea). Still! It was disrespectful! Ghost or smoke-virus or no, they couldn’t just decide for you like they had with the suit itself.

“I think I’m gonna have to pass,” you say firmly (but politely. You still don’t want to get turned into another one of Soot’s bodies).

“Are you sure?” They asked, their tone teasing. The costume’s paws reached up and slowly, deliberately unzipped the front of the costume, revealing the velvety, plush interior within—as well as a thin layer of seething, shifting, ash-like particles that you could only assume were part of Soot. The head, meanwhile, floated off the suit’s shoulders, followed by the gloves as they detached from the sleeve. It cast a knowing look at you as it turned away, pointing the neck-hole in your direction; the gloves spread the fabric wider, cruelly tantalizing you. “You sure seemed interested a moment ago. You crossed your arms and bit your lip, starting to breathe more heavily. You turned your eyes away. The more you looked, the more you’d imagine the feeling of being wrapped up in that lovely thing… the more you’d want it.

Finally, you huffed. You already wanted it. It was half of why you came here. Just because you were doing it didn’t mean you were doing it because Soot asked you to, right? Hesitantly, you nodded, and set your flashlight down on top of a nearby rack, pointed in the general direction of the two(?) of you so you could still see. You gingerly reached out to brush the handless sleeves aside to make more room for yourself, kicking off your shoes and twisting yourself around to properly step in. The gloves returned to the wrists of the outfit, gently guiding you; one held your hand to keep you balanced as you slid one foot down the leg and into the Lucario’s footpaw, and the other stretched the chest of the suit open wider, or held a sleeve or leg straight, or whatever else was needed to keep the way clear for you.

It was incredible. it was like a hug that wrapped around your whole body, snug and warm; it was like a thick, heavy blanket pressing gently down on you from all sides. You had always been infatuated with Lucario, and to be even closer than wrapped up in one’s arms—inside one, united with one—was giving you butterflies than it had, even in your fantasies. Even if you had to share it with somebody (somebodies?) else. (You were kidding yourself again; sharing this experience with someone else, sharing a body with another person, was half of what drove you so wild about the idea).

You reached out for the head of the costume, and Soot began to slowly (frustratingly so, and you suspected it was on purpose) float down to your outstretched paws. Man, it was awesome to talk about your paws. You flexed them in the suit, closing and opening them and turning them over, just admiring your own motions as they came closer. Once they were within reach, you pulled them quickly down and stuffed your head into their neck cutout, excitedly wriggling your face through. Soot chuckled at how eager you seemed; you kicked yourself for making yourself blush right before smushing your face into them. You just knew they could feel it.

But you didn’t care! You stepped tentatively around in your new threads, watching the way the ankles squished and stretched under your weight, watching the way the tail swayed with your stride. You looked down and relished the sight of a spike growing out of your chest. You—

“Excuse me, dearest guest,” Soot began. “May we lead for a moment?” Your heart skips a beat at the idea of being moved around by a person you’re currently wearing. You didn’t even think to push back when they moved their legs—your legs—in a rhythm you couldn’t hear, raising your arms as though the two of you were being dipped, or spun. As it turns out, it takes two to tango, but that may not be enough to perform the full routine. Even so, you feel as secure in Soot’s embrace as you would in the arms of a dance partner.

“So,” Soot asked you, gliding to a graceful stop in the center of your makeshift spotlight, “are you enjoying yourself?” You hesitated, grateful that they couldn’t see the smile on your face from inside the costume head. They still thought you were their toy, after all; you didn’t want to give them the gratification of being right.

“You’re a better dancer than I am,” you conceded, dodging the question.

“Oh, how modest! In more ways than one,” they quipped. “I mean, come now, who do you think you’re fooling?” You felt the dust inside the suit begin to shift, and suddenly, you were being caressed from head to toe by Soot, locked in an even tighter, even more intimate embrace. “Who ventures miles away from the nearest fellow human being just to visit a run-down old costume shop like this? Who climbs into one? You were hoping something like this would happen, weren’t you, you cute little thing?”

You crossed your arms, hoping to make yourself seem more aloof, uninterested. You hoped it would be enough to save face.

“I-I was just…” you tried, the teasing making it difficult to keep your voice level. “...doing what you asked. Being, being polite! Haven’t you made a big deal about being a good host? I’m just trying to be a thoughtful guest!”

“Eager to follow instructions? You precious little doll, you,” they retorted, their voice an all-encompassing purr that rattled your body and reverberated between your ears. You felt the flow of the roiling, gooey substance that made up their "body" change again—this time, the pressure, the gentle, grazing touch, concentrated itself right between your legs. You flinched, and despite yourself, you whine; Soot just laughed again.

“Did you forget, doll? You’ve nestled your body so tenderly within ours—how could we not notice how excited you were getting down here?” Their constant writhing made you weak in the knees, but you bit down hard on your lip, determined not to give them a confession (though you couldn’t help but give them another high-pitched, pathetic noise).”Which is it, hmm? Do you like it when we push you around? Or are you just into plushies, so much so that it turns you on to wear one?”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” they continued, cooing so close to your ears they might as well have been talking inside your head. “Let’s give you a taste of both at the same time then, shall we?” They lowered your hands; the suit moved slowly, but firmly enough that you couldn’t resist it. All you could do was watch as the Lucario costume’s paws hovered closer and closer to your crotch; they stopped just shy of touching you, barely half an inch away. “We’ll just leave these riiiiight here,” they said, “and you, my lovely toy, will do all the work.”

“T-the work?”

“You’re going to grind on those big, plush paws, of course! Don’t pretend you’re not desperate for us to touch you more. This is the only way you’re going to get it,” they lilted.

The idea simmered in your brain like water in a boiling pot. In a public place like this? Even if there were no people, it was just so… open. You felt exposed. Embarrassed. And that was before even considering all the other Soots who would… surely be… ogling you, the whole time… It just felt so wrong to even consider! And you couldn’t stand the idea of playing into Soot’s paws like that, but… their paws did look soft… and you were nearly ready to explode after everything they were doing, their inky self swirling around the insides of your thighs, playing over your… your…

You caved. You thrust your hips forward, shoving the flat mound of the Lucario suit’s crotch into its paws, which Soot kept firmly in place for you. You huffed and panted under the hood, almost like a dog yourself; Soot rumbled a low chuckle, looking down at your desperate humping with smug superiority at the same time as you watched their paws with sheer need.

“Theeeeere we go. Now you’re having as much fun as we are, aren’t you? Of course you are,” they giggled. “Just look at you go… We’ll be doing a lot of that, you know. Watching you.” You were leaking like crazy; soon enough you were going to soak straight through the fabric of the suit and stain up Soot’s—your—paws. “The ‘other’ me’s will want a turn with you, too." You imagine it: all those eyes, all those hands. Cute and inviting mascot paws, all so soft on your skin, and even softer from the inside… You imagined being sandwiched between two costumes, fuzzy, and big enough to smother you between them, Soot's possessive touch strong enough to keep you exactly where they want you.

"I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of our forms," they murmur, almost as if they could read your mind. You almost like the sound of that… Surrounded by Soot, inside and out, as much of a puppet as any one of these fuzzy vessels---intertwined with them, layered together, woven together like the fabric enveloping your whole being. You hump, rut, even harder, leaking more and more the closer Soot allows you toward the edge. "Because we certainly like you. In fact, as well-behaved as you’ve been, I think you’ll turn out to be our new favorite toy…” You couldn't hold on anymore, you…

You couldn't wait for it all to start…

Thank you for reading! If you want to see more of my work, you can check it out here and here!

#writeblr #trans author #furry fiction #pokemon fanfiction #lucario #plush #plushie #plushsuit #ghost hands #ghost oc #reader pov #reader insert #indie author #my writing #short story

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svmjaeyvn · 1 year ago

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love maze, s.jy.

chapter six pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: tbd (series)

masterlist

add yourself to the taglist here!

genre: college!au, mutual friends, fake dating, smut.

synopsis: an unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker leads jake sim ‘dating’ his best friend’s childhood crush.

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things.

contents: smut, sort of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers pipeline, childhood best friend!jay, mentions of best friend! yunjin, curly haired & mixed reader, uni!au, rich nepo baby!jake, enha frat boys, lots of kissing, fake dating turning into fwb real quick, totally way too into it for it to be fake early on, big booty reader that’s jake’s obsessed with, partying and alcohol use, slight violence, he fell first and harder trope, stem bf & writer gf, (kinda overly) possessive jake, some angst to spice things up, daddy issues, hyper independent reader who struggles with her feelings, fluff and happy ending!!

a/n: hello~ i’ve never been a tumblr girly but i have went through my w*ttpad era back in 2018 so bare with me y’all. this will be a series but not that long (i hope) so pls look forward to it. warning tags will be placed before each “chapter” to specify what to expect. pls pls reblog and interact, i’d love to have feedback and see what your thoughts are. okay! yay, for now enjoy and thank you sm :D

MDNI, 18+

tap below to continue

CHAPTER SIX: EXS

previous masterlist next

word count: 3.3k

warnings: swearing, kisses, calling minjun a stalker, protective jay and ni-ki

a/n: not a lot of jake in this one i know but i have to make a plot and conflict yall 😩 adding in bbg riki and some more best friend!jay pls enjoy

"HOW MANY TIMES have I told you to wear the gloves when you do the dishes?" You tsk, delicately wrapping the small gash that ran along Ni-ki's, the newest trainee at your work, hand. He sheepishly smiled, tilting his head in the smallest of ways.

"Sorry noona," He mumbled out, embarrassed by his third time sitting like a kid being scolded due to his clumsiness. "I needed the steaming pitcher so I just reached in the sink and didn't see realize the tongs were so sharp,"

You shake your head with mock disappointment though a small smile perked at your lips nonetheless. With the middle of the semester rolling around, most freshmen had found themselves finding a rhythm with balancing their school lives enough to find a part time job. You've seen numerous come and go, Cho— your generous manager who was the sweetest old lady that ran the cafe, always took them in for at least a short amount of time.

Ni-ki was your favorite thus far, always listening intently (to everything aside from the dishwashing) and picked up the skills relatively fast. Respectful but also comfortable enough to joke around with, the two of you had become a dynamic duo in closing four days out of the week together.

Of course he was still a boy, a young and partially annoying one at that but he reminded you of your younger brother, weaseling his way in having a soft spot in your heart even though it had only been two weeks.

"Okay now we switch, you run the front I'll clean up back here," Satisfied with your makeshift bandaging, you shoo the younger boy along who rolled his eyes but nonetheless disappeared from the back of the house. Cleaning up the medical kit and barely managing to slip on your gloves to handle the load of piling dishes, you noticed his head poke in around the corner.

"Someone would like to talk to you," He hums before disappearing once more, not giving you enough time to determine whether it was a good talk or bad one in having to handle the customers. With a small sigh, you make your way to the front, prepped for the worst but your tension dissolves seeing your bright smiled best friend leaning over the pastry case.

"Off the glass," You warn, making your way to the register where Ni-ki stood with a goofy smile. Jay reluctantly stands himself up straight, pouting seeing as you didn't greet him with the same warmth he was expecting.

"That's not very good customer service, where's ajumma Cho? I'd like to file a complaint," Jay tuts, peering around the store though he knew well enough it was only you and Ni-ki in the building. The younger boy lets out a small snort, used to his antics in the past two weeks of running into each other and forming a budding friendship through their mutual teasing over you.

Rolling your eyes, you lean against the counter expectantly. "What'd you need Jay?"

"I can't just come say hi?" He pouts, seemingly offended by your words while he shakes his head. "I haven't seen you in days teeny, you've been too busy with your boyfriend to give me any attention now,"

"I saw you when we had lunch," You deadpan, finding his dramatics amusing though you knew the mess that occupied the back room needed tending to before you were forced to stay late. "Seriously, I actually have work to do today so I can't talk—"

"I'll help!" Jay volunteers, the same boxy smile on his lips while you shake your head. "What? I've done stuff before! I'm bored and want to hang out, let me help. It'll show me what you broke college students do everyday to survive and stuff,"

"Let rich boy do the dishes," Ni-ki interjects, rolling his eyes at his ladder sentence though it was all in playful manner.

"As long as I get to wear an apron," Jay agrees, pointing a finger at the coffee brown colored uniform piece you had to wear.

It was a temping offer, and he wasn't wrong. Typically you had him clean the menus or refill caramel bottles whenever he wanted to be like a kid and help out but you really did dread washing dishes. With a reluctant sigh, you nodded your head and not even a split second later, Jay had made his way around the counter to the employees side.

"This is exciting," He hums, following you to the back while you reach into the locker cubbies, pulling out one of the spare aprons left just in case anyone needed it. Jay slips it over his head, securing the strings behind his waist while you point toward the far end of the room. His excitement visibly deflates seeing the mountain of items waiting to be cleaned, the cherry on top being the empty dishes Ni-ki waltzed in with a genuine smile of content as he added to it.

"Have fun princess," You laugh, patting his shoulder as you walked by and with some reluctance, Jay made his way to begin without a word of protest much to your surprise. Having far more time to do your tasks, you began with the inventory. Going through the store and marking down the amounts had while Ni-ki continued to clean and restock due to the end of the night approaching, it was peaceful with the younger boy taking hold of the aux to play his own music now opposed to the cafe playlist.

A few minutes passed without any words, finding comfortable silence and both of you working on your own things before the jingle from the front door indicated someone coming inside. "Welcome in," You called out, not bothering to look up from the fridge you were bent down beside while Ni-ki headed for the register to attend the guest.

"Hey," You stiffen at the familiar voice. Pausing in your count, you stare at the half empty milk carton in the fridge, waiting for the person to speak again, praying it wasn't what you thought. "Sorry man, is ___ here?" With a deep sigh, your head falls down. Ni-ki peers to the side, giving you a questionable glance noticing your reaction and unaware of what to respond with.

Sending him a half smile, you stand up properly, exposing your hidden figure behind the counter. You make eye contact with Minjun, void of emotion and placing the fakest of smiles onto your lips as you spoke. "How can I help you?" Decidedly going with the faux customer service route, you place the book down you were previously using to record while his eyes trail over your figure.

"Hi," Was all he spoke, almost hesitant and you had to hold everything in you to not roll your eyes. "You're a manager here now?"

"Yeah stuff changes over a year," You respond dryly, not particularly seeing the point in his attempt in a conversation. Ni-ki lingered, seemingly wiping at the warming station but he listened carefully, aware of how unenthusiastic you seemed and found it best to stay close just in case with how stiff the air seemed. "Something you need from me?"

Minjun opens his mouth only to close it twice over. Not having the proper words to say, he purses his lips. "I've been wanting to see you," Was all he could come up with, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. "Heard you still worked here and figured it'd be the best place to find you,"

"Yunjin told you to leave me alone and that I didn't want to talk," You reiterate, sending him a pointed look while he nods along. "So you came to my place of work knowing I didn't want to see you," Another nod. "Yeah, think that's called stalking,"

Ni-ki stiffens up at your words. "Noona," He mumbles, coming up significantly closer to your side while you shake your head. Ni-ki was tall, significantly more than you and a majority of the male population was shorter than him but he was still a kid. Besides, you didn't need any protection, Minjun wasn't a dangerous guy, just an idiot.

You hold up your hand, silently telling him that everything was fine. Reluctantly, he backed away, though he still lingered and his eyes stayed glued to Minjun who stood on the opposite side of the counter.

"I just wanted to talk," Minjun starts, voice seemingly sincere but you shake your head.

"There's nothing to talk about,"

"No means no dipshit, did you forget kindergarten rules already?" Jays' loud voice interrupted the stiff air, the attention brought to him as he emerged from the back room, a drying towel being throw over his shoulder and his apron slightly damp at the waist. He makes his way beside you, arms folded across his chest and puffing out the muscle and veins that peaked out from his rolled up sleeves. You nearly let out a laugh seeing the tough guy act your best friend pulled, almost wanting to take out your phone and take a picture but you had to admit, Jay was intimidating when he wanted to be.

"Lovely to see you again too Jongseong," Minjun sighs, plastering on a more than fake smile at the man who always expressed his distaste over him even when you were together. "Didn't think you'd be a part-time cafe guy,"

"You gonna order or not?" Jay cuts to the point, his patience thin enough as it was and especially with people he didn't like. You made a mental note to applaud him for being mean for once.

"If I order will you go away so I can talk to ___?"

"She has a boyfriend," Ni-ki interjects, standing beside Jay who nods along. "Plus she doesn't like you, so I can either take your order or you can leave,"

Minjun's eyes flicker to you once more. "A boyfriend," He repeats. "Thought you told Yunjin to tell me that just to get rid of me,"

"Not everything's about you man," Jay rolls his eyes, quick to answer for you. "Being desperate doesn't really work for you,"

"How long?" He ignores Jays jabs, eyes focused on you while you shrug. "Recent right, considering you haven't posted anything about him,"

"You really are a stalker," Ni-ki grimaces, not knowing the full details but hearing enough to make his judgements.

Sending the two behind you pointed looks, silently telling them that you'd handle it, you look back at Minjun with a small sigh. "It's not really any of your business, is it?"

"Well with me you were all about posting stories and making sure I posted you so it's just surprising,"

Narrowing your eyes, you pick at the skin of your nails at your side, something that Jay took note of in your old habits whenever you grew irritated. "Things change. Being with a guy who provides reassurance and treats you well does wonders," You hum, no longer bothering with decorum. "I don't have time to go back and forth with you. If you want to order they'll help you, if not, leave,"

Without giving him time to protest, you made your way to the back of the building ensuring he wouldn't be able to follow. Jay was quick to tag along leaving Ni-ki to fend for himself but knowing the young boy would be fine.

"He's fucking insane," Jay rambles as soon as the two of you were out of sight and behind the door that separated the front from the back. "To think that after all the shit he put you through you'd just, welcome him back? Delusional ass who doesn't know how to take no for an answer apparently—"

You nod along, taking a seat in the plush chair that was tucked away in the corner of the room beside the desk. You stared at the ground, focusing on counting the tile patterns allowing for Jay to ramble as he paced around the room. Taking note of your unusual silence, he stops mid step to look at you, a small sigh leaving his lips seeing how your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth and how you continued to pick at your hands.

Leaning down in front of you, Jay squats as his hands find way to your knees, leaning against you and forcing your line of vision to be filled by him. "You okay teeny?" He asks softly, the look of pity one you remember all too well and not what you wanted.

"I'm fine," You respond. And you were, for the most part. You just couldn't deal with your own emotions and Jay going back to treating you like a fragile piece of glass, it was exhausting enough having him be as attentive as he was in general. "Seriously, I'm fine. He's not worth my time anymore J, I just hope he got the hint and won't come back,"

Jay nods along, giving your knee a small squeeze in reassurance while you click your tongue. The door swings open, Ni-ki poking his head in the frame. "He left," The younger boy reassures, a small smile sent your way. "Am I allowed to ask noona?"

He looked concerned, an expression you had yet to see from Ni-ki and it emphasized just how young he seemed in your eyes with the innocent gleam. Gesturing for him to take a seat, you lean back in the chair while Jay settles himself on the ground. Peering up at the security cameras, ensuring to have a clear view of anyone were to walk in, you begin your story.

"Buckle up kid, you're getting a whole new level of lore from me tonight,"

"THIS IS SUCH bullshit," Jay huffs, eyes focused behind you as he takes a rather large bite of the apple he had been holding for the past ten minutes. "I can't believe he transferred back,"

"You know, it's kind of heartwarming how upset you are for me," You tease, significantly less worked up over the situation although it was less than ideal.

"No I agree, he's a fucking asshole," Yunjin adds, shooting daggers with looks that could kill causing you to raise a brow. "What? I hate him. We're not even really related, my aunt is divorcing his uncle and I only hung out with him cause of her so now it's free range since he's being a weird idiot,"

"Are we talking shit?" Sunoo draws the attention to himself, placing his bag down and smiling brightly as he clasped his hands under his chin. "Who about?" He sing-songs, voice dripping like honey and a grin that seemed so innocent but the content behind it was entirely different.

"Her stalker,"

"Whose stalker?" Heeseung interjects, Sunghoon trailing behind him to join the ever growing table. Jay and Yunjin's fingers immediately point toward you, silently answering his question causing the older boys brows to frown. "What happened now?"

As you opened your mouth to explain, a rather loud one cut you off once again. "Noona!" Ni-ki calls out, voice booming as he made his way toward you with Jungwon leading. Rather obviously pointing in the direction you spoke of, his eyes were wide seeing Minjun on the other end of the plaza with his own group of friends. "What the hell is he doing here?" The youngest asks as they reached the table, now having all curiosity peaked of those out of loop.

"Who?" With the last member of the group joining, Jake smiled widely as he weaseled his way beside you, placing a quick peck to your cheek as he sat.

"Everyone here now so I can talk?" You ask aloud, glancing over the group and doing a quick headcount. Over the past week, with the concept of you and Jake being together, your friend group had merged with his. Well your two friends, one of which you shared already, had joined in with Jake's while Ni-ki had been recently adopted in after finding Jungwon and him shared a general ed class. You had to admit, it was nice having more people to talk to, your life had certainly become more interesting in the best of ways.

"Do tell," Sunoo urges, far too excited to know more as the certified gossip of the group, though he was always the best at giving advice so it was two sides of the same coin.

"My ex transferred back here," You finally say with a small shrug. Jake tensed up from beside you, his brows pinching together as he leaned in closer to listen to your explanation. "He came by my work the other day trying to talk and I told him to get lost and then now he's here,”

"He's weird," Ni-ki adds in, his face pinched with disgust as he shook his head. "Desperate stalker behavior,"

"Who is it?" Sunghoon asked, looking in the general direction Jay pointed in but not particularly locking in on anyone.

"Kang Minjun," Yunjin answered without missing a beat.

Jake lets out a scoff, leaning closer into your side. "He's a fucking prick. Came into class today and wouldn't shut up during the lecture," Taking hold of the unpeeled orange you had left since it seemed like far too much work at the time, he peeled the skin off without a word, holding out the first piece to you before popping one into his mouth. "Professor Choi loved it, annoying as fuck when most of us just come since attendance is mandatory even though it's a gen-ed class,"

"We're the same year, he had always been popular," Heeseung shrugged. "Definitely annoying considering he used his looks for basically everything and acted cocky all the time,"

"The pretty one?" Sunoo asks, glancing around while he gained a few pointed looks for the comment. "What? My bad I've never seen him before," He pouts, hands up to show his lack of defense.

"Stalker," Ni-ki reminds, entirely ambient on making it knowing for everyone how uncomfortable he was to be around. "Doesn't matter what he looks like, he's still a weirdo,"

Jungwon lets out a small snort at his comments while Heeseung suddenly changes the subject. The conversation topic switching over to plans of a staycation in the near future while Jake absentmindedly holds out the last slice of orange for you to take.

“He comes over here and I’m throwing this apple at his head,” Jay warns, holding up the partially bitten fruit causing you to grimace.

“I don’t think he’s that dumb,” Sunghoon snickers. “And that’s gross, you can see all your teeth marks,”

“Who cares?” Jay retorts, beginning to bicker as the two change the topic for the second time in a near minute. Everyone else following along, paying no mind and rather comfortable in one another’s company.

You felt Jake’s arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side as he leans down to your ear. “You alright?” He mumbles, breath fanning against your skin causing you to shiver but nonetheless nod along.

You pull away slightly, enough to see his face while a small smile peaked at the corners of your lips. You had to admit, it wasn’t ideal and made you exhausted having to deal with your past. You put on a brave face, one enough for the others but for some reason, Jake could see through it more than you knew.

He let out a small sigh, a lingering kiss placed to the crown of your head as he did so. “You’re alright,” Jake spoke, the words intended to reassure you, fully certain of it for your sake and that seemed to be more than enough to help your nerves for the time being.

Letting out a puff of air, you allow yourself to melt into his side, settling in comfortably as your head tucked itself below his chin, leaned into his chest and arms caged around you for extra support. Your attention was brought back to the rest of your friends, eyes meeting with Yunjin who sat with an amused expression being one of the ones who knew everything while Heeseung had his nose scrunched up with disgust.

“I hate couples,”

my tags!! @slutforsjy @jaklvbub @whowantshota @addictedtohobi @coolwitu @simjyunnie @kgneptun @graythecoffeebean @143ikeu @zyvlxqht @tesywesy @nxzz-skz @aishisgrey @missmischief1408

( pls make sure your settings make you applicable to tag )

#enhypen #enhypen jake #jaeyun x reader #jake sim #sim jaeyun #enha x reader #jaeyun smut #jake x reader #enha #enhypen jake smut #jake enhypen #enhypen smut

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freesia-writes · 1 year ago

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hello friend, for the valentines rec - would you be interested in doing a fake dating/relationship situation b/w Crosshair and f!reader? go wild with why they have to fake date 😂

thankssss ❤️HB

THE CROSSHAIR EFFECT got me on this one! 😂 Sometimes when I write him, I just get absolutely sucked in. So this one had me in a mood and I quite enjoyed it. It's a little stereotypical or trope-y or something, but it's delightfully indulgent in my doofus opinion. So I hope you enjoy! 😊 Dividers by @stars-n-spice on this post here.

Crosshair x F!Reader Word Count: 2000ish, hehe Content Warnings: just kissin and in-universe cussin

OH, and since this takes place at a fancy gala, I have to link this gorgeous fanart by @perfectlywingedcrusade because it's just fitting and should be appreciated by everyone. They're lovely images of Crosshair and her OC, so check em out!

A kiss on the hand and a cup of the face

Holding each other close in fancy attire

Out for a stroll while lookin good

The grand gala was in full swing, the opulent castle venue aglow with soft, golden light and the murmur of animated conversations. You and Crosshair, disguised as a wealthy couple, moved gracefully through the crowd, your steps synchronized as you navigated the sea of elegantly dressed guests. The stoic sniper's presence beside you was palpable, his every movement calculated and precise. His sharp gaze swept over the room, taking in every detail with a keen eye for potential threats. Despite the formal attire he wore, there was an unmistakable air of danger about him, a reminder of the skilled soldier lurking beneath the facade of a sophisticated gentleman. And it kinda gave you the tingles.

As you exchanged pleasantries with other guests, your mind raced with the mission at hand. The two of you had been tasked with infiltrating the gala to gather intel on a new weapon being developed by the Separatists. It was a high-stakes operation, and the success of the mission relied on your ability to blend in seamlessly with the crowd while discreetly gathering information.

You stole a glance at him, marveling at the effortless way he maintained his cover. His demeanor was cool and collected, his expression unreadable as he engaged in polite conversation with the other guests. You marveled at his ability to remain composed under pressure, and if you were being honest, you’d admired him for a long time, and had given in to an increasing amount of time spent thinking about being with him in various scenarios. So when this mission had come up in such a way that required you to pretend you were in a relationship, you’d had to fight hard to keep your face neutral and even harder to ignore the pronounced eyeroll and scoff of disgust he’d made.

You were still trying to push the thought from your mind as you leaned against the bar, having split up to different parts of the room. You could swear there had been some significant moments between the two of you, conversations that showed some vulnerability, slight softening in his piercing glares… But sometimes you wondered if the entire dynamic was just wishful thinking on your part.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” a fellow attendee said, sidling up beside you at the bar. You gave a small smile and a nod, just enough to acknowledge him without being memorable in any way, hoping he would take the hint.

He didn’t.

“Where are you from?” he pressed, stepping slightly closer and holding up two fingers to the bartender, who had waved to him for his order. “I feel like I’d remember a beautiful thing like you.” You had your selection of default answers, offering some uninteresting and vague information, but he was a bona fide hemorrhoid, weaseling ever closer both verbally and physically.

“I feel like you’re not being entirely honest with me,” he purred, tilting his head and reaching to trace fingers along your arm.

“I’m not sure I want to tell all my secrets to someone I just met,” you replied, matching his suggestive energy to avoid triggering any toxic masculinity. You gave him a small smile, but it was met with a furrowed brow that made you start to feel a little anxious at how to get out of this particular situation.

Right on cue, however, Crosshair stepped in, his arm sliding around your waist as he pulled you close. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced up at him, face relaxing into content familiarity.

"Darling, there you are," he said smoothly, flashing the intruder a charming smile. The honey-sweet words in his sibilant, smoky tone were absolutely intoxicating, and you silently cursed the flush that bloomed across your cheeks without your permission. "I've been looking all over for you."

The guest faltered, taken aback by Crosshair's sudden appearance, and when the sniper turned to face him fully, positively exuding confidence, he excused himself with a polite nod.

"Thanks," you murmured, grateful for the diversion.

"Don't mention it," he replied, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "We have to be convincing, don’t we…”

“Sorry you got stuck doing this with me.” You felt a wave of frustration wash over you, beginning to feel tired of the way he seemed to jerk you back and forth between softness and harshness, fondness and disdain. You wished he would just come clean one way or the other.

“A mission’s a mission.”

“Mhm,” you agreed, feeling your mood souring by the second.

“Problem?” he asked quietly, forcing the fakest smile you’d ever seen as a couple passed by and fluttered their fans in your direction. It made you want to punch him.

“Nope. Just… On a mission.” You pulled your fur more tightly around you, scanning the room for the targets who were supposed to have the inside info. You’d had yet to locate them, despite schmoozing for the last hour or two. You didn’t notice the way his eyes followed the flow of your hair into a regal bun at the nape of your neck, nor the way they continued back up across your face, unreadable emotion flickering just beneath the surface.

“Oh, Chris, you’re hilarious,” you proclaimed, in the snooty voice you’d adopted around others. You could tell it grated on Crosshair’s nerves, and you couldn’t help the smug sense of satisfaction you felt when his steely gaze met yours for a moment in the privacy of a quick sideways look. You knew there’d be hell to pay later for randomly giving him a name like that, but you didn’t care. Your feet were aching and you’d been done with all the fake socializing about an hour and a half ago. But the two of you had finally worked your way into the “inner circle of sleemos”, as your partner had deemed them, and now were the critical moments upon which the entire mission hinged.

“Not nearly as delightful as you, my little poodoo,” he answered, earning a round of gasps and chuckles from the uppity crowd.

“I say!” declared a man with a huge space-walrus mustache. “That is quite the nickname, my good boy!” He chuffed heartily, casting a side glance at his tall, spiky wife who clearly didn’t approve. Quickly changing his demeanor, he was shaking his head in somber disapproval by the time he looked back at you.

“Oh, we’re just so… so close…” Crosshair continued, almost choking on his words as he looped an arm around your waist again and pulled you against him so abruptly that a little bit of your drink sloshed out of the glowing martini glass. You quickly turned your splutter of indignation into a playful giggle, not so subtly digging an elbow between his ribs as best you could. “I could just call her every name in the book,” he gushed, poking the tip of your nose with a single finger.

“Oh goodness,” you laughed, downing the rest of your drink in one huge gulp. “Would you excuse us? And can I get anyone else another drink?” You turned away so quickly, grabbing your partner by the arm and dragging him along, that you didn’t see Mr. Walrus Stache lifting a finger to take you up on that drink offer. Instead, you did your best to hide the absolute rage you felt beneath the surface as you found a side door out onto a small balcony. There was a single member of the waitstaff there, a Rhodian who was taking a drag off a long cigarette, and his luminous eyes narrowed at the two of you as you appeared, flicking the ash off the end of his smoke and dropping it to the ground before stalking back to work.

“What’s gotten into you?” Crosshair began, turning on you as soon as the last tails of the server’s apron were out of sight. You looked up at him, too frustrated to enjoy how close he was as he loomed above you furiously. “We finally get--”

“ME?!” you spluttered, grasping the shiny lapels of his suit jacket, “You think we’re gonna get anywhere with you calling me poodoo?!” In any other context, the sheer ridiculousness of the situation would have been hilarious, but the simmering undercurrent had risen to a rollicking boil, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Well if you weren’t acting like such a little shi--”

“You’re ridiculous!” you yelled, fists clenched at your sides. But before you could finish the rest of your retort, his hand was clapped over your mouth, cutting off any further attempts to lash out at him. It did not, however, help to quell the fury within. You grabbed his arm with both hands, pulling at it in futility, then froze completely as he stepped in close, wedging a thigh between your legs and flattening you against the stone wall of the castle with his entire body. “What the f--”

“Just shut up for one second,” he hissed, and the sheer intensity of his presence combined with the exhilaration of him pressed against you took every last thought and word right out of your brain. You let out a breath, heart pounding against his chest where he’d bent himself around you, eyes large as they locked on his. He slowly removed his hand, wiping it on his pants with a slight wrinkle of the nose, then tucked it into his pocket, leaving the other arm braced on the wall above you. “Listen,” he said, quietly now, with an urgency yet softness that melted you to your core. “Whatever… this… is…” He took a deep breath, then continued, “We need to get that intel. Then you can… take care of yourself…” He finished with a tiny, confident nod, stepping back in surprise when you burst into laughter.

“Take care of myself?” You slapped your hands flat on his chest, pushing him away with playful force as you felt yourself puffing up again to put him in his place. “Crosshair, you don’t have a damn clue, do you…” You ran out of steam as you registered the myriad of emotions on his face, slowly falling silent as he closed the distance between the two of you again, emanating a different kind of energy this time.

“Care to enlighten me, then?” he asked, tilting his head at you with equal parts condescension and provocation. There was a smolder in his pale brown eyes that made your heart skip a beat, and you were so overrun with feelings of your own that you couldn’t even begin to sort out one from another. You reached for his lapels again, now using them to pull him back against you as you brought your mouth to his with a forceful, determined kiss. His tiny huff of an exhale had a million possible meanings, but you didn’t care, because one of his hands found your waist and the other cupped the back of your head, pressing his face into yours with a hunger that set your… heart… on fire.

You lost track of everything else as your senses were flooded with every magnificent aspect of him… His scent, touched up with a ritzy fragrance he’d added for the evening… His slightly raspy breathing… The warmth and passion that radiated from his strong, focused frame. The feeling of his mouth on yours was everything you’d imagined it to be, and he pulled back for a short breath of air before turning his head the other direction and capturing your lips again, slightly more open this time as you melted against him.

It felt like a split second and an hour later when you separated, with deep, ragged breaths and a blissfully dumbfounded look on your face, staring at him in awe and unabashed delight. He kept his face stoic, though there was a slight glow to his cheeks and a spark in his eyes that made your knees weak.

“Now can you keep your head on straight?” he poked, stepping back and straightening his suit.

“Absolutely not.”

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ihavenothingtodo10220 · 1 year ago

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can you please do jay from enhypen ideal type?

So, quick disclaimer, I know next to nothing about Enhypen besides their music. I'm getting into them more beyond that, of course, but I'm still trying to learn who's who and trying to feel them out as people. So, this is definitely going to be unbiased, even if my other readings were as well. Also so sorry it took so long to get this out, I convinced myself I could do all the things i wanted to get done at once and stretched myself so thin I had to just stop and do everything one by one like a sane, normal person. It’s also slightly shorter than others may be because his chart is very consistent. His wants, needs, and behaviors are very very consistent. His exact birth time is unknown, though he said it's somewhere between 12pm and 4pm, so we're just going with calculating it as you would with an unknown birth time. Again, the usual disclaimers, this is all for fun, and not confirmed. I can be entirely off, as astrology isn't...An exact art when it comes to these things, but this is just based on astrology. This is not meant to be malicious, and take this with a grain of salt. With all that out of the way, please enjoy!

Taurus Sun

-As a Taurus Male, the signs he'd be most compatible with are Cancer, Capricorn, and Virgo.

Values

Relaxed, Secure, and Stable Because of his generally hardworking nature, he'd most likely be attracted to someone with those traits, but can also be more lax at times. I feel if they're too relaxed they'd definitely get on his nerves, as he'd view them as lazy, but he'd definitely like someone who can be more relaxed and calm, who works hard for the things they want but knows how to back off and calm down. Someone who knows that moderation is the key and shares that trait with him, as that's how Taurus is. Someone too hardworking and is always working may seem too overbearing, though they also may balance him out. On the flip side, someone too lax would just seem plain lazy to him, though again, they may balance him out. He prizes security and stability above all else, and he'd also look for that in partners and relationships in general. He'd want someone more stable and secure, probably someone who knows what they want in life. He'd also want someone who can help him along with his goals. With his Taurus nature, when he works he works hard and when he's not, he's relaxing. He'd definitely need someone who's as relaxed, who can take things slower in life and be mellow with him.

Sensuality, honesty, and down to earth Taurus people definitely prize sensuality in all aspects. They're romantics. He'd want someone who can indulge in the sensual pleasures of food, a comfortable blanket, nice scenery, the smell of flowers or spring rain, calm, romantic, or just generally pleasing music, and so forth. Taurus definitely live through their senses. Stay true to yourself. Be truthful to him. He will appreciate your honesty, which is a trait he really wants in a partner. He's not quick to trust, so any lying....? Immediate ick. Taurus men are very down to earth, and he'd want you to be as well. He wants to be in comfort and warmth when at home, with good food and good company. Just a smile is good enough for him, to have his heart racing. He also isn't into really spontaneous people. He's the type who'd prefer for dates to go over to your place and eat good food, and just enjoy each other's company. Being able to cook would also be a good way to weasel into his heart.

Adaptability, Organization, and practicality Taurus is a very fixed, stubborn sign. Because of that, he'd need someone more adaptable than he is. Someone who can balance him out, and someone who can go along with the plans he makes. Taurus Men also hate disarray and general mess. So, he'd want someone neat and organized. I'm talking down to the spices on your shelves being cleaned and arranged perfectly. Though he'll definitely appreciate the attention to detail. He'd need someone practical, someone who is smart with money and all manners of life in general. You don't need to cut corners, but you need to know when and how to spend your money and not go overboard. He'd also be attracted to you being financially sound.

Boldness, respect, patience So, basically, Taurus men may not ever make the first move. They keep their emotions on the inside, so even if he's into you, he won't really make a move. That's why you have to be bold enough to do so on your own unless you want to wait five years for a confession. You don't have to do something super extravagant. Again, inviting him over to dinner would be super impressive to him. And no need to swarm him with your intensity either, a simple cup of coffee will show him you're into him. He'd want you to respect him and would respect you in turn. Taurus prizes mutual respect, and that's going to be important to him in any relationship. Handle conflict delicately and he'll respond in kind. Taurus are natural leaders and they love to take charge. Guidance and support will work better than confrontation. Taurus men have enough issues with their own temper, much less anyone else's. You also need to take your time in general. Taurus people don't like change and are slow to welcome it. He likes routine and doesn't like change, and if you try to change him, remember, you are angering a BULL! This man's temper is no joke! Try to roll with his flow. If you don't understand something, just ask. He'll gladly include you in his routine if you show that you're trying to understand and share in something that matters to him. He likes planning, too. If you're overcome with an idea, run it by him before you start implementing it. He'll probably be able to bring you back down to Earth and actually get things done. And remember to be patient. Taurus men like to feel out everything, especially things like this. He needs to wrap his mind around the factors at play, and that includes relationships. So with this one, you'll need to put on your patient hat and relax for a bit. Let the relationship grow without pressuring it. If he didn't like you, he wouldn't stick around. This goes for his time, too. Taurus does his routine and he sticks with it. If you interrupt that, he won't be thrilled. If there's something he needs to do, let him do it. Then he'll be all yours when he's finished.

Realistic and Trusting Now, by nature, Taurus are very possessive...It's important to sit down with them and be realistic and communicate with one another properly. And he can definitely be overbearing, so make sure you can tolerate that. If you can handle his bull-headedness, his need for routine, and his need to lead, by all means, go ahead, this could be a relationship that lasts a very, very long time. But if these are factors that you can't see yourself tolerating long-term, try not to get your heart twisted in a bunch. He can make for a good fling, but little else. Sometimes men can get pretty defensive when it comes to their manhood, and Taurus is no different. In fact, he may be the cause of this gender stereotype. His pride and ego dominate a large facet of his nature. If you attack this, he will not be happy. Make sure to allow him to lead you on occasion, he'll love it and love you for it. Along with being aloof and slow to make his move, Taurus can be a bit untrusting. He's very much so of the mantra "If you want something done right, you do it yourself." This leaks into his romantic relationships too, where he's used to doing his own thing. However, over time, if you show him you're trustworthy and responsible, he'll see it makes sense to let his guard down. That's when you know you've won Taurus's heart.

Outward traits

Taurus men appreciate classic beauty. He's not really attracted to glamor and a lot of skin, though he's not repulsed by it, but he's attracted to more elegant, conservative class. So bring out that side, then add in a little bit of spice and your own personality. The key is to make an impact without being excessive. If you want to attract a Taurus man, you must be very true to yourself, strong, and confident in who you are as well as having a more serene vibe. It's important to be who you are, honesty is always the best policy with a Taurus man. If he's not interested, he's not interested. But confidence, serenity, and honesty will make you more desirable in his eyes.

Beyond looks, how someone smells will determine if a Taurus man is attracted to them. Taurus men are into fragrance and are sensuous, so when somebody smells good, it gives them romantic feelings. They love more quiet, outdoorsy, romantic vibes and that extends to the scents they enjoy. A scent that reminds them of those things will definitely draw him in. When someone wears a romantic floral and earthy scent, he's likely to find them irresistible. When someone pleasures his senses, a Taurus man takes notice, but it's not quite that simple to win his heart. His greatest need in life is stability and serenity, and he doesn't deal well with anything overly dramatic. This means somebody who wants to attract a Taurus man will also have to impress him with their cool, calm, controlled, serene, and practical way of life.

These guys like physical contact, so don't be afraid to touch them. A Taurus man likes you to gently put their hand on his arm, touch his cheek, or put your hand in his. He enjoys you softly touching his leg and leaning toward him when sitting next to him. He won't even mind if you take the lead and kiss him at the end of your first date.

Leo Moon

-Based on his moon sign, he'd be more compatible with: Libra Moon, Scorpio Moon, and Pisces Moon. Moon sign compatibility is definitely one of the most important, as it dictates one's emotions. It's who you are in private, and your comfort zone.

Loving, attentive, listener, patient, and admiring Leo moons require mass amounts of love and attention, so he'd need someone who can give him that. Someone loving, affectionate, and attentive towards him. Leo moons like to tell stories, or just basically talk a lot to those they're close to and keep them engaged, and their attention on them. He'd need someone who can listen, and stay engaged, and say the right things at the right times. or ask questions at the right times, stuff like that. He'd need someone patient, as Leo Moons can be very dramatic at times. When they feel slighted, these people can be dramatic in showing it. When their pride has been hurt, they are given to big scenes and sulking. This rarely happens in public, though, Leo moons are far too concerned about their image to make splashy scenes outside the comfort of their own homes. In public, they prefer to take things in dignified ways. At home, however, big displays of emotional drama aren't uncommon. Wherever they are, they can secretly feel they are on stage. He'd need someone with enough patience to put up with this. Leo moons also love feeling admired, so he'd definitely want someone who's admiring by nature.

Emotionally sound, non-impulsive, blunt & realistic Leo moon's are strong and they know how to channel them into constructive channels, they don't easily understand such things as "crimes of passion", impulsive behaviors, or emotional excitability in others. As such, if someone shows these behaviors he'd be very turned off, and it'd be a big ick for him. He may lack firmness, and can be a sucker for a sob story. He likes to live in a dream, in the world of imagination and can hope so much for things that reality checks can be brutal.

Outward Traits

Nothing is more attractive to a Leo Moon than confidence. A Leo Moon will always be attracted to glitz and glamour, and they'll fall hard for a charismatic person who dresses and acts like they're the star of the show. He considers his love to be his 'queen' and the light of his life. He'll be head over heels for a person who is always on point, whether it's their fashion sense, their ability to command a room with their powerful presence, or their unmatchable humor. Leo moons are drawn to stylish and flashy dressers. This sign loves all things chic and dramatic, so the best way to get his attention is to look fabulous. You don’t have to wear expensive brands or completely change your style, but you want to stand out from the crowd.

You need to have good vibes. You need to be someone he can have fun conversations with, and who he will mesh well with on many levels. You also need to be someone he won't feel embarrassed to be around or someone who will paint him in a bad life. Public perception is important to Leos.

Taurus Mercury

-Based on his Taurus Mercury, he's more compatible with people who have Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn mercuries. Mercury determines how people communicate, and communication is very important.

Values

Honestly, when it comes to his Taurus Mercury, it's pretty much the same as his Taurus Sun in terms of wants and needs. The two are similar in the sense that he is faithful to his ideas, unchangeable and quietly opinionated, persistent, and discreet. He likes all the pleasures life can offer. Is careful in speech, deliberate, and intelligent. Learns best through the senses, not through the traditional educational system. He possesses plenty of common sense, and his simplicity makes it easy to get from point A to point B in as few steps as possible. He needs the same things for both, and his Mercury and Sun make it so that how he presents himself outwardly and how he communicates are very much in tune.

Taurus Venus

Values

Sensual, predictable, dependable and intimate Love for him is about the physical world and creature comforts. He prefers love to be shown in ways that can be seen and felt, and concretely known. He prefers sensual surroundings because of this, he likes more intimate settings because those tangibly show love and touch on his more sensory aspects. He projects himself as solid and comfortable. In fact, something about his manner promises he will be a satisfying lover and partner. He needs a certain measure of predictability and dependability in his relationships.

Slow and Steady wins the race and loyalty sets your pace Venus in Taurus people can be possessive in love, and they are threatened by fast-paced, high-energy situations in the context of relationships and love. These are sensual partners who require lots of "hands-on" expressions of love. Again, due to their more sensory aspects. His lovers may complain that he can get a little too comfortable and settled. They indeed resist change in their relationships, but even when they seem stuck in a groove, you can always reassure yourself by remembering that they are constant partners. Pleasing Venus in Taurus involves emphasizing your loyalty, and their worth to you. You may need to give in to them in love matters because they won't readily give in to you. Get physical with them; do comfortable things. Avoid pushing them in love, give them plenty of time. You will probably need patience if you are in a relationship with Venus in Taurus. Remember to be simple and natural. Taurus will appreciate it. Promise them a comfortable, cozy time. Love arrives slowly, without passion but with force.

Novelty, adventurous, and unconventional He may look for new sensations in love and might often feel unsatisfied by connections that quickly turn into purely conventional relationships. He likes novelty, adventure, the eccentricity. He is frivolous, unstable, or inconstant. Marriage is not usually for him and, if he does throw himself into this adventure, it may eventually be considered a youthful mistake. There can be numerous love affairs or off-and-on relationships. There is a tendency to react spontaneously and intensely to others, and there is marked emotional impulsiveness. Perhaps his most successful relationships are unconventional ones. He may delight in defying convention. He has considerable romantic charm and humor. There can be sudden relationship status changes and a marked inner craving for emotional excitement. He is intense in love. Feelings are complicated. There can be brooding. However, he is inclined to embrace, accept, and understand the darker side of his nature.

Gemini Mars

Values

Exciting, thick-skinned, good listener His Gemini Mars makes him more scattered and confused. He's easily bored, and he will need a fresh change of pace frequently just to keep him going. Surprisingly, when there's nothing to do it can exhaust him. But if there are plenty of interesting things on his agenda, he most definitely is a powerhouse. More than most people, he can have a physical reaction to boredom. Besides possessing a passion for words, when he gets angry or fired up, he may use words as his "weapon". Angry words, some of the most incisive and sarcastic ones, can fly around with the more energetic Gemini Mars. Others simply talk things through energetically. Whatever the case may be, Mars in Gemini people need to get everything off their chests when they're fired up. In fact, debates are a Mars in Gemini specialty. He can draw on his sharp wit to win arguments. In general, he can be talkative, sometimes bordering on having verbal diarrhea. Those whose charts show more reserve only become chatty when they're worked up about something or the other. Some people in this position are quite fidgety. They have a lot of nervous energy. In general, his nervousness and restlessness are at the root of plenty of physical ups and downs. When he's on edge, he can be nitpicky. Many Mars in Gemini people channel their energy through their hands. Gemini, after all, rules the hands; and these people often express energy through musical instruments and the like, even video games. Many are attracted to puzzles and games as diversions. These people are very adaptable, often thriving on change. They often take up many projects at once, spreading themselves thin at times. Sustained interest is not especially common with this position of Mars. Most will benefit from attempting to focus their energies rather than scattering them. However, their versatility and disdain for routine generally means Mars in Gemini natives are busy people. He'd definitely need someone who can keep him excited and on his toes, and give him things to do. He'd also need someone more thick-skinned who can keep up with his temper and argumentative nature, as well as listen when he wants to talk things out.

Less relevant placements

Cancer Jupiter He attracts the most good fortune when he is sympathetic and charitable, uses his powers to save and accumulate, and comforts others. He values tradition and works towards security. Relies most on gut instincts when it comes to pursuing goals and business success. He'd definitely need someone who drives him towards doing charity and things of that nature, as well as someone who is a good mix of traditional and unconventional, someone who brings the security he craves. He'd definitely need someone who has their own good instincts, but will also trust his.

Gemini Saturn He may be somewhat self-conscious, avoiding small talk. He may find making lighthearted acquaintances superficial. He can possess a serious mind, sometimes wishing to be more free and breezy. He definitely would want someone free, to balance out his seriousness, but also not so carefree they're annoying to him. He wants someone who can boost his confidence and someone who can form a deep connection with him. He is not always open to others' ideas, especially if they are disorganized or free-thinking. You should watch for rigid thinking and egoism.

Aquarius Uranus & Neptune, Sagittarius Pluto May get over-excited at the start of a task that interests him. At times, his debonair personality can give others a banal impression. He's generous, especially enjoying resolving problems to satisfy everyone. Sexuality and love are idealized with him.

Pisces Black Lilith He may have felt ashamed or off for being needy, compassionate, or wishy-washy, or for his spiritual side, and he can feel uncomfortable or annoyed with people who resist labels, who are not very assertive or ready to take the lead. Denying these very human traits in himself can lead to extreme behaviors. Self-acceptance and integration of these traits in moderation can be empowering.

Gemini North Node He has brilliant ideas and is the first to discover new things. However, he has a tendency to ignore the details and may avoid some responsibilities for fear of becoming too bogged down. Taking on too many activities can keep him from focusing on one or two paths, and this can be to his detriment in the long run. Another thing is he doesn't understand the impact of his words. Speaking his truth should be done mindfully or else it may undermine his growth at times. He'd definitely need someone who can withstand his harsher statements while knowing he truly means no harm, and also reel him back in and voice how they may affect them. A balance should be sought. He can be an excellent teacher and hold far more meaningful and intelligent exchanges with others in so doing. By learning to slow down and take care of business and to live in the present, he is likely to achieve far more happiness and a wonderful sense of inner balance. Qualities to help him develop: clarification, listening skills, and attention to detail.

OVERVIEW

With a Taurus Sun, Jay possesses a grounded and sensual nature. He is someone who seeks stability, loyalty, and reliability in a partner. A person who exudes elegance, grace, and a touch of sensuality would captivate his heart. Their presence is soothing, calming, and brings a sense of security to his life.

The Leo Moon within Jay's chart adds a dash of drama and charisma to his emotional realm. He craves a partner who is confident, radiant, and stands out from the crowd. They possess a magnetic personality that draws people towards yhem effortlessly. Their warm-hearted nature and passion for life ignite sparks of excitement within Jay's soul.

Jay's Taurus Venus reveals his deep appreciation for beauty and sensual pleasures. He yearns for a partner who embodies grace, femininity, and has a strong connection with the physical world. Their touch is gentle, their voice is melodious, and their presence brings comfort and pleasure. They are someone who cherishes the simple joys in life and treasures the bonds of love and intimacy.

With Taurus Mercury, Jay's ideal match possesses excellent communication skills. They express themself with clarity, patience, and a touch of practicality. Jay values a partner who can engage in stimulating conversations, share their thoughts and ideas openly, and provide a calming influence during times of stress.

Jay's Gemini Mars fuels his desire for intellectual stimulation and adventure. His ideal partner is someone who can keep up with his active mind and thirst for knowledge. They are witty, versatile, and embraces change with open arms. Together, they embark on exciting journeys, engaging in spirited debates, and exploring new horizons.

Cancer Jupiter in Jay's chart signifies his deep emotional connection to family and home. He seeks a partner who shares his nurturing instincts, who creates a warm and loving environment. They are compassionate, understanding, and values the importance of emotional bonds. Together, they build a strong foundation of love, support, and shared dreams.

Gemini Saturn indicates Jay's desire for a partner who is intellectually stimulating and possesses a strong sense of responsibility. They are reliable, disciplined, and brings structure to their lives. Their presence encourages Jay to embrace his own responsibilities and achieve his goals.

The combination of Aquarius Uranus and Aquarius Neptune in Jay's chart suggests a yearning for a partner who is unique, independent, and forward-thinking. They are a visionary, unafraid to challenge societal norms, and embraces unconventional ideas. Together, they create a harmonious balance of individuality and shared ideals.

Sagittarius Pluto symbolizes Jay's transformative nature and his search for deep meaning in life. His ideal partner is someone who shares his thirst for knowledge, spiritual growth, and exploration. They are open-minded, philosophical, and provides him with a sense of purpose and direction.

The presence of Pisces Black Lillith signifies Jay's fascination with the mystical and the unknown. His ideal partner has a deep understanding of the spiritual realm and is in touch with her intuitive side. The possess a mysterious allure that draws Jay towards them, igniting a deep soul connection.

Lastly, the Gemini North Node indicates Jay's karmic path towards embracing curiosity, adaptability, and effective communication. His ideal partner supports his personal growth, encourages him to explore new perspectives, and helps him develop his natural gifts.

Jay's ideal type is a person who embodies elegance, confidence, and sensuality. They possess excellent communication skills, nurtures a loving and supportive environment, embraces intellectual stimulation, and shares his thirst for knowledge and spiritual growth. Together, they embark on a transformative journey, exploring the depths of love, passion, and personal evolution.

Jay, with his Taurus Sun, is drawn to earthly beauty in all its forms. His ideal partner possesses a timeless allure that reflects the grace and elegance of a classic masterpiece. They have striking features that are both refined and sensual, leaving an indelible impression on all who lay eyes upon them.

Their eyes, like pools of liquid gold, sparkle with warmth and intelligence. They hold a depth that hints at the mysteries of the universe, drawing Jay closer to unravel their secrets. Whether they are a captivating shade of hazel, a mesmerizing hue of blue, or a captivating dark brown, their eyes are windows to their soul, conveying their emotions with an irresistible charm.

TheirHer luscious locks cascade like silk, framing their face with a touch of ethereal beauty. Whether their hair is flowing in gentle waves, cascading in curls, or styled in a sleek and sophisticated manner, it carries an enchanting allure that Jay finds utterly captivating. Its color, be it a rich chestnut brown, a radiant golden blonde, or an alluring ebony black, enhances their natural radiance, adding to their magnetism.

Jay's ideal partner possesses an alluring smile that lights up the room, reflecting their inner joy and warmth. Their lips, soft and inviting, hold a subtle curve that exudes a sense of playfulness and charm. When they smiles, their eyes twinkle, and their laughter resonates like a melodic symphony, drawing Jay into a world of pure delight.

Their physique is a testament to the harmony between strength and femininity. With a gentle grace, they moves through life, their gestures and postures reflecting a natural confidence and poise. Jay is captivated by the way they carries themself, for her every movement is a graceful dance that leaves him in awe.

Their skin, kissed by the sun, is smooth, radiant, and exudes a natural glow. Whether fair and delicate, with a hint of rosy blush, or possessing a sun-kissed complexion that emanates warmth and vitality, it is a canvas that showcases their inner beauty.

In Jay's eyes, his ideal partner possesses an aura of natural beauty that transcends societal norms. They embrace their uniqueness and is comfortable in their own skin. Their style is an expression of their individuality, a perfect blend of elegance, sophistication, and a touch of whimsy.

While physical beauty is but a fraction of what truly matters, Jay is irresistibly drawn to a partner whose external appearance reflects the captivating depths of their inner being. It is the combination of their alluring eyes, radiant smile, enchanting hair, graceful movements, and the unique harmony of their physical features that ignites a deep and lasting attraction within Jay's soul.

#jay enhypen #jay #astrology #astrology observations #ideal type #enhypen #Jay ideal type #Jay boyfriend #enhypen astrology #enhypen as your boyfriend #enhypen ideal type

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adarkandmagicalforest · 8 months ago

Text

an irritation part 8

ship: otto hightower/original female character (aella targaryen)

chapter warnings: rough oral sex (male receiving), religious idolatry, prayer

Next: Part Nine, Epilogue

Oldtown was like one large sept.

Seven-pointed stars and statues of the seven seemed to be everywhere she looked. When Lord Hobert Hightower, Otto's elder brother (who looked so similar to a weasel that it had actually made her lover look astoundingly handsome in comparison) had escorted them within the high tower itself, Aella couldn't help the wry look she shot to the Lord Hand as they passed the many carved idols to the Seven that decorated its walls. The entire place was alight with thousands of candles too, similar to the Sept in Kings Landing, their thousands of flames flickering from the floors and window ledges, the wax dripping onto the stone floor and over the rivers of existing wax that none had bothered to clean up.

The candles, she actually rather liked. The way the fires glowed against the diamond patterned windows and cast high shadows on the ceilings was mesmerizing, and the heat that came from them within these cool walls felt soothing as Aella danced her fingertips across them.

"Supper will be at dusk," Lord Hobert then said informatively, after his long-winded talk that he'd begun after their grand entrance at the bottom of the Tower. She of course, hadn't really been listening. Nor had the rest of her family, it seemed. The Lord of the High Tower appeared to have realized this, though his mouth was much thinner now. "Your chambers are prepared, and our servants have already brought your things up for you - unless," he paused, making quick eye contact with Otto, so obvious though she could tell he hadn't meant to be. "We are to be expecting another?"

In this, Viserys spoke, somewhat beleaguered. "I have sent men out to summon my brother from wherever he may be within your city, Lord Hightower. Not to worry. He knows not to cause such mischief outside of the streets of Kings Landing."

Lies. But they were lies Lord Hobert ate without protest before they were all escorted to chambers.

Daemon was going to cause some drama, as he always did.

What worried her now was what kind of drama.

Aella had never worried about what chaos Daemon would cause - so often, she was in the middle of it as well, his mirror and shadow, assisting in some, spearheading others. It was what had gained the two of them the notoriety and disdain of Otto Hightower for so very long.

It was unsettling now to not know - to not understand what he had planned.

A bath was waiting for her in the chambers when she finally stepped inside them - the maids, dressed all like some sort of Septa, each bowed to her as they finished their work.

"The Lord Hand said you would wish to wash before supper, Princess." The oldest one explained with a short nod of her head as the last of the hot pails of water filled the large copper tub. It was steaming with fragrance, like spiced ginger, cinnamon, jasmines and wild vanilla, while of the steaming water was floating with dried rose buds.

Aella dipped her fingertips in the water. Almost scalding. It made her fingertips go pink just from touching it for a few seconds.

"Would you be needing assistance with your hair, my lady?"

"No." She said shortly, reaching for the ties of her riding clothes without delay. "You may go."

The maids finished their work and left without dally, leaving her free to rid herself of her clothing and sink into the hot bath without delay.

The water was so hot that it relaxed her like a cup of mulled wine as soon as she sank inside of it. And it was there, leaning her head against the rim of her bathtub, drawing light designs on the top of her thigh with a warm contentment, that Aella thought it didn't matter what Daemon had planned for that evening. Let Daemon do as he wishes, she thought as she rose her wrist slowly out of the water, keeping a rosebud floating on the back of her hand, the feeling of it like the most gallant of kisses. As long as I am able to continue as I am. And if he irritates me horribly, then I will be chaining myself to Otto's bed.

/~/

Supper in the High Tower's great Hall was a return to childhood.

It had been many years since his House had housed a visiting King, and his brother Hobert had seemed to pull out every piece of elegant finery they had access to within the Tower.

Gold candlesticks from Queen Alysanne's time, finely embroidered tablecloths with silk threads from Yi Ti, and one of the greatest bounties of fresh spring fruits and vegetables from all over the Reach. Strings of blown glass balls with lit oils within them glowed over their table, while ropes of ivory wisteria on dark green vines drooped down to kiss at the cornucopia of grapes and spring cherries. Musicians and singers had been stationed in the corner to fill their dinner with noise, their harps and lyres sending their notes dancing through the hall.

Though, Otto thought as his gaze became far more trained on the entrance of his princess, each display of finery his brother had brought to impress had all paled in comparison to Aella Targaryen as she entered into the dining hall - ten minutes late, as she usually was.

Her hair was worn in loose waves, intimate and smelling of jasmine and ginger. Her lilac eyes were subdued and calm, and her presence was as it should be - confident, pleased and mischievous. The ivory silks she wore danced around her ankles as she stepped to Viserys where he sat at the head of the table, taking a moment to kiss him on his freshly shaved cheek before taking her seat.

Otto had re-arranged the seating before his brother could complain. He'd switched his princess' seat with his brother's wife, Lynesse's, so that Aella would instead be seated directly across from him. None had appeared to notice that this was changed - none, that is, except for Queen Aemma, who'd looked at him from the corner of her eye when the princess had lowered herself into the walnut chair.

"As you've all arrived at a later hour, we've prepared a days long feast for you all tomorrow, after morning prayers. That is when dear Gwayne will be arriving from the Citadel." Lynesse explained as the lights were lowered and she clasped her hands together over her empty plate, signalling the desire to bless the meal.

Aella looked at him over the glowing candles. Her lilac eyes were half lowered and mocking, the corner of her lips were curled in a smirk and her ivory skin kissed by the flickering candlelight made any image of the maiden pale in comparison. How could any worship a piece of stone as a goddess when the one in front of him, crafted from fire and a rider of an ancient beast tied to her by blood, was sat in front of him? And... with her foot traveling up to rub against his calf, no less? There was no prince, prophet nor priest as blessed as he was, to be the object of her desire.

Even if it was at such a damnably horrid time of her to choose.

Otto clasped his hands in front of him and pointedly shut his eyes for prayer, attempting to ignore the small, wandering stocking covered foot that was currently exploring the inside of his thigh.

Devilish thing. Even now, during the lengthy prayer to each of the Seven, seated with their families within his ancestral home, Aella could not help herself - he didn't know why her lack of respect surprised him. Perhaps it was simply because she was always so keen on surprising him regardless.

" - and blessed be the Stranger, who upon our final sleep, should carry us peacefully from our beds, and bring our new beginnings." Lynesse finished, finally breaking the trance and beginning the dinner properly.

To his relief (and disappointment) his lovers foot retreated just as supper was placed on the table, though Otto knew better than to believe her mischief was done with.

Supper was served. Through the soup course, a thin, green soup full of herbs, Aella hummed.

She was not a very musical girl and currently her humming was of a higher tone than her usual register.

Otto mistrusted it immediately.

When the salad course was laid out, with frilly lettuce, cuts of white cherries and crumbled with goat cheese, the princess sighed with satisfaction, in a way he'd heard most frequently when he was deep inside of her. He was convinced every person at that table could hear it as keenly as he could, until he'd darted his eyes at the other dinner guests.

But none of them were paying any attention - only he was as focused on Aella enough that every little noise she made drew his gaze.

The wine, she savored.

The piecrust, she sucked the crumbs off her fingers.

It was to his relief that Aella was finally drawn into conversation with the King, so that he could finally begin tasting the food he'd been silently eating. He'd relaxed, marginally, to sip from his wine goblet. He'd barely managed to taste the hint of raspberry in the Highgarden blush before the sensation of a foot pressed between his thighs, sending the wine splashing into his mashed potatoes.

And the look she gave him. Openly instigating, openly daring and deadly. What man could survive her? What man could resist her? From the long curls of her lowered lashes over such otherworldly pale purple eyes, and the risen smirk on her coy lips. It was a look that said so clearly, 'Too much heat, my Lord?' All the while her foot ran up and down his leg.

If he were a weaker man, he would've stood from that very table, grabbed her by her loose hair and thrown her over the table and mounted her for the whole table to see.

"Am I to understand that I'll be calling you niece sometime soon, Princess?" Hobert's voice broke through his increasingly more dangerous thoughts, drawing attention to himself as he addressed Aella. The question made Otto itch, and he wiped his hands clean of the wine that he'd spilled to distract himself.

The princess looked unperturbed at the question, despite it all. Her narrow shoulders shrugged, and with an elegant hand, she reached up and pushed back her silky white blonde hair as she responded coolly, "I'm sorry to inform you that you're rather off-base my Lord. I've made no such acceptance to any man's proposal for me now. Nor will I."

"What do you mean, aunt?" Rhaenyra questioned from across the table, a look of intrigue in her eyes.

This was Otto's own instruction - to deny any proposal from his son. But to any man? This was new, this was not discussed. But Viserys was not scolding her, not instructing her otherwise. The Hand looked between King and Princess, and was shocked to find calm acceptance in the Lord of all Seven Kingdoms.

Viserys had agreed to allow her to be unmarried? No - an unmarried woman, a Targaryen, a dragonrider, was a person so valuable that letting her live unmarried would've been a waste. And yet somehow, it was the truth that her brother agreed to.

"Hatchling, have you not heard yet?" Aella asked, glancing back to Viserys, who did not look surprised but also did not seem like he wished her to speak on it. To his own surprise however, she obeyed the silent command of her brother. "The next Targaryen wedding shall be yours, my love. You'll just need to pick from the noble houses, then we'll have them duel, and then - "

The little princess took a roll of bread from her plate and threw it across the table at Aella, which missed her, instead knocking over a pitcher of water.

"No throwing food, girls!" Viserys said, though it was hardly a proper order, as he was still grinning as he scolded them.

They each didn't seem all that bothered by the scolding either - even Alicent, urged on by both Targaryen princesses, giggled into her hands at their silliness, which pleased his princess as she immediately began encouraging his daughter to join in ruining supper.

Otto hadn't seen Alicent smile so much since Alerie's passing.

She would make a fine mother.

When dinner was finished, tail-ended by a fine blood orange cake with a thick layer of icing sugar, his lover spoke up again, as innocent and soft as a maiden.

"Lady Hightower," Aella began. "Might you tell me how to enter the Sept from here? I'd like to make a few prayers before I rest for the night."

Lynesse had beamed with smug satisfaction, as if it was from her blessing over dinner that had turned the dragon princesses' foreign and strange ways, and immediately done so, explaining the exact directions on how to find the Sept below them. From the gilded window of the Warrior, turn left. At the right of the basin of blessed oils, enter the double doors.

They were fine directions - and Otto followed them some twenty minutes after they all disbanded, a future for himself, lovelier than any he had ever once hoped for, on his mind.

/~/

Aella never prayed, but the act of getting on her knees before the pillars of the Seven was arousing enough to keep her in place, lighting the little fires of the many candles.

The Sept here was different than Kings Landing's. There, a large circle of stone stood in the center of the room, where all of the statues looked on. Here, there was a large marble slab in front of the chosen facet, with it's own prayer candles. She chose the Father, a man with a neater beard and who held in his hands not a sword as the Warrior did, but a set of measuring scales. The inscription on his pillar read, 'The Father, he who divines justice and beholds his protection over all of his children.'

She knelt before it, placing her knees down on the marble below - only to pause. Aella reached her hand beneath her skirts, rubbing her fingers against the stone floor, feeling it. It was like someone had scattered rice there, embedded in the rock. Made purposely rough so that whoever sat to kneel did not do so without punishment. Hightowers.

It took a lot to not to allow her hand to wander up to her aching core between her legs at the rough sensation below her knees. She'd wait, she though with heady impatience, instead reaching forward and plucking a long piece of yew from the altar. She lit the end with one of the candles, and set a new wick aflame. It's hiss was the only sound in the whole of the Sept.

Until the sound of boots stepped over the marble.

Aella clasped her hands tighter in front of her, shutting her eyes as she listened to the steps come closer. Step, step, step. Closer every time.

Still, she 'prayed.'

Until the steps ceased, inches from her kneeling body.

"Why the Father?" Otto asked her, low.

"I like his beard." Aella said simply.

She could feel then the sensation of his leather boots against her silken skirts. He'd stepped over her kneeling form, his legs on either side of hers. The Hand's neat fingers then touched the back of her neck, drawing along the slope of her throat and then down to her narrow shoulders.

"Do you even know your prayers, princess?" His words were heady.

"Not even one."

At her rather pleased proclamation, Otto pinched the back of her neck hard, as if she was a kitten rather than a dragon. The pain was sharp and exciting, forcing a gasp from her lips as the Lord held nothing back as he punished her for her cheek.

"I know a better prayer than to the Seven, Otto," Aella said then, resisting the urge to put her hand beneath her skirts. Her cunt was hot and weeping, pushing her to touch herself - but she couldn't yet, she wanted this first.

The Hand's hand grasped at the front of her neck, his thumb stroking her softly. His hand was warm and just tight enough that if she swallowed, he could feel the muscles in her throat move. If he tightened his grip, he could steal her breath away.

"And what prayer is this?" He asked darkly.

The princess twisted away from the statue of one Father to another, casting her lilac eyes up at him slowly, hungrily, devouring all she saw.

The Lord Hand was somehow more delicious looking after this trip through the countryside and to the castle where he was sired. He was tall, so much taller than she was, towering over her even when she stood on her highest of tiptoes. His legs were long and sturdy, his waist narrow and his shoulders were broad and stronger than someone could expect of a politicking Hightower. And, she thought as she leaned herself forward to rest her chin on the top of his thigh, after a whole evening spent being forced to look his chinless brother in the face, he was looking all the more good-looking to her.

His beard was now neat and now far more nicely tidied by his barber. His hair was longer and formed loose curls that he'd swept back out of his face. Once, Otto had looked so plain to her. With a boring nose, boring eyes, boring face, which only served to become interesting when she successfully pushed him into outrage. Now, his dark oak-colored eyes were intense and sweltering, his features even and distinguished.

Aella lowered her eyes, soft as a sweet kitten, and reached for the laces on his breeches, pulling the ties loose in a purposely sloppy manner.

The Hand's breath hitched as he watched her pet his cock through the fabric, his dark eyes becoming touched with desire and something softer. The same look he'd given her when she'd woken in his arms in Cider Hall. The same he'd given her when she'd woven poppies in his little daughter's hair.

The dragon princess pulled his cock from the breeches, it's long, familiar heat welcoming in her palm.

"This is no prayer." Otto breathed to her, yet not stopping her. His hands ghosted over her hair, only the tips of his fingers moving along her loose white-blonde waves, as if by touching her it would break some spell between them. Some magicks, from her blood or his fire, existed in their air, between the connection of lilac and oak brown. Magicks that would dissipate the moment another looked upon them, as delicate as spun glass.

"Not to you," Aella countered, stroking him until the dark pink tip of his cock was weeping. "I have a more intimate relationship with prayer than you do." It was tempting like this, long and thick and as smooth as the silks she was draped in. She didn't typically enjoy a cock in her mouth - it was usually too much work and she was far too impatient to have to focus on not choking while sucking and bobbing her head all the while receiving no pleasure of her own.

But here, in a Sept, with his seven carved marble gods watching them?

She couldn't help herself.

"Fuck..." Otto groaned when she finally drew the tip of his cock into her mouth. The pale bead there was salty and unpleasant, but she liked the sound of him, so she rocked herself up further onto her knees, gripping his leg as leverage so she could take more of him in her throat. This served to cause an deep moan to emit from the Hand, who already looked overwhelmed and oh so hungry.

How could she not keep going when he was looking like this?

Aella swallowed back when her lips wrapped around the base of his cock, the heaviness of his cock in her throat making her want to wince. She began bobbing her head, her hair falling in the way of her face as she began rocking herself up and down on her knees, the coarse sensation of the pebbled marble beneath her causing a whimper to escape from her.

Finally, Otto touched her at the sound - his neat hands darted to her loose hair, gathering up her ivory curls until it was all in his fists, out of the way of her face, clearly misunderstanding the noise.

She gripped at his legs tighter, grunting as she began moving faster. Her legs were starting to tire from the way she was moving and tears were beginning to bead up in her eyes.

It was no use though, he didn't taste like he was close to coming. But Aella couldn't wait that long, she was too wet and aching to wait. She delved her hand from his leg to her cunt, shoving her silks out of the way so she could swipe desperately at her soaking folds. Pleasure twisted at her, need demanding more and more, but her hand wouldn't be enough at this rate.

And then suddenly the hands in her hair became as punishing as steel - before she began getting fucked.

All bobbing of her head and sucking of his cock was ceased immediately as her lover took her every action from her. His grip was tight on her hair, and his other hand reached for the side of her face, so she couldn't back away while he began thrusting himself hard and fast down her throat. Otto took no care for her comfort, her squirming. He just fucked her, letting her go limp, just weakly hold herself to his long legs as he drove himself harder and harder into her face. Past him, she could see the stained glass of the Sept, glowing from the thousand low-burning candles at each of the seven altars in the room. Over Otto's shoulder was the Mother, big with child and with a welcome, forgiving expression carved into her lovely features.

And a daze entered her mind, airy and dreamy and wanting.

Aella smashed her hand against the back of Otto's thigh, just when she knew he was getting so close to finishing down her throat, his hips stuttering. He stopped and cursed at the strike, but he had no time to protest or punish her before she'd pushed him down onto the floor of the Sept, desperately moving over him.

"Finish inside me!" She demanded hurriedly, scrambling onto his lap with an urgency that transcended out into the room. If the moths or ants that lived in the Sept were watching, they were surely as transfixed as Otto's Andal gods were around them. "Finish inside me, Otto, if you don't - "

The Hand grabbed onto her waist and thrust hard inside of her, his face strained as he attempted to fuck her properly. But he couldn't last long, not when he'd been so thoroughly debauching her throat the way he had been. He filled her quickly, his fingers digging into her hips as he drove up into her, his own cum dripping out of her and back onto his pelvis as he tried to make her peak with him, but to no avail.

"Let me," he said hoarsely, pulling at her skirts and twisting her until she was on her back. The stone was warm beneath her body. Welcoming. Like the stone of a sacrificial altar, where she was the one awaiting judgement.

On her back, she was now able to see the stone face of the Father over Otto, while the Mother looked down upon them from behind herself.

Fingers probed her full cunt, beginning to fuck her back to the precipice she'd been toying and dancing with for the entirety of her womanhood.

She kissed him as she peaked, soaking over his neat hands, ruining her skirts and soaking into the sacrificial slab of marble that sat underneath their entangled bodies. His seed had soaked it with her. The ivory silk, as light and fine as a maidens cloak, was sullied forever. Filthy.

And Aella Targaryen wouldn't have allowed it any other way.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #house of the dragon #hotd #aella Targaryen #Otto hightower #Otto hightower x oc #Otto hightower fanfic #an irritation #chapter 8

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crab-rangoon-slut · 2 months ago

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THE BLOOD WE SHED

Work rating: Explicit Chapter rating: yall all good

<<<<Synopsis: Telemarket and Lyra/you are childhood best friends navigating life with the suitors.

Both of you discover your sick fantasies of killing the suitors and uhhh *reveling in it* while covered in blood are shared.

However, you hardly have time to process this fact before a unfathomable storm reaches the coast of Ithaca... wait is that man on fucking raft fighting the god of the sea? Hello??

Anyway they fuck on Antinous' corpse.

!!THERE WILL BE ODY X PENELOPE REUNION SMUT!!

Originally on my ao3. I update on there faster>>>>

CHAPTER 2: REALIZATION

Inside my small home, jars of herbs and spices are illuminated but the light outside. The setting sun casts a golden glow through the windows. I admire the warmth of it for a moment before laying down on my bed.

“You tired?” Telemachus asks from where he’s sitting next to me.

I turn my head so I can look up at him, “Yeah, long day in the vineyard, nothing too bad…”

I hesitate, my face contorted with annoyance,

“…though I do get the feeling someone may have snuck in and taken some heaping baskets of the grapes.” I grit my teeth. “Hell I wouldn’t be surprised if it was one of antinous’ little friends. Those weasels have been branching out lately.”

His brows furrow, “Somehow that wouldn’t surprise me.” He runs his hand into his hair holding it there.

“Gods, they’re getting worse every day, it’s not even just the palace they’re ransacking. They’re beginning to run this side of the kingdom as if they’ve already claimed my father’s crown, the entitled fucks…”

He grows more and more pissed off with every word. He pauses for a moment recall all the shit they’ve been giving him.

“You what Antinous told me today? He held my face in the mud— but not for long though you should’ve seen the move I pulled to get up and strike him—“ his eyes glint with passion and pride, before he falters back to what he was saying,

“…yeah... But anyways— He had the audacity to tell me the second ‘he becomes king’ he’ll see to it that I’m killed,” he scoffs, “As if that’ll ever happen.” He says teetering on seething now.

I think about my response for a moment, trying to find the right words to keep him from (in true Telemachus fashion) working himself up too much. I settle for a joke—well, a half joke.

“Why don’t we just killed them??”

“Gods How I’d love to!” he chuckles, laying down beside me.

“No but realy imagine it for a second. How cathartic it’d be to just…paint the palace red and stand over all the dead suitors' bodies?”

There’s a moment of silence where I worry I may have suggested maybe just a little too imagery for sweet boy, gods bless him. Then he turns to lay on his side to look at me,

“Zeus Lyra that’s one way to start a conversation!” he laughs.

I chuckle a bit relieved.

“No but— is it so wrong to think about…? With the way they talk about your mother? And the female servants of the castle? And the threats they’ve made; the things they’ve already done to YOU? To me justified is an understatement.”

I think about all the fantasies I’ve had, some a bit more uh… *provocative* than others…

“…I’ve definitely thought about it more than once…” Telemachus admits, with a hint of guilt and…. something else hidden in his voice.

“Good. Because I definitely have.” I say matter of factly.

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“you think I haven’t?” I smile widely, “you underestimate me, Little Wolf”

He’s fully invested now.

“Well don’t leave me hanging! What exactly happens in these fantasies of yours?”

Hmmmm.. a very interesting question… I know my thoughts may be gruesome and detailed but gods know those sick fucks deserve it. I’ve patched far too many wounds and heard too many sinister whispers to not wonder how amazing it’d feel to put an end to it all.

“Well, the main feature is you and I standing in the great hall, strewn with bodies, leaving Antinous for last, and giving him the worse fate of the lot.”

His ears perk up, excitement in his voice,

“Yeah? Like how?”

“Hehe first you gotta tell me yours~”

“That’s not fucking fair, you started a thought you should finish it!”

“And I will! Once you tell me yours!”

He rolls his eyes playfully and looks up at the ceiling, letting the hypotheticals play out.

“I imagine pretty much the same thing, but the daydreams change sometimes for which one of us deals the final blow on that bastard.”

“Yeah?” I say with eyebrows shooting up

“How do we do it?”

A smile tugs at his lips for a moment as he indulges himself in the idea, “Well, sometimes it’s as simple as you holding him down while I drive a sword through his chest… other times it’s you bringing down an axe to his neck while he’s been knocked down”

My eyes widen slightly at the thought. I definitely don’t hate it….

“Hold shit I’d exude aura!” I burst out laughing.

He chuckles, returning my amusement,

“You covered in the blood of our enemies while you stand over that bastard would be fucking AMAZING.”

“You think so?” I say laying back on the bed and smiling at the ceiling.

“You’d look incredible, like a goddamn bloodied goddess of war” he chuckles almost to himself.

I note the undertone of the comment but push it aside—there’s a brief silence before he breaks it,

“Okay now yours, spill.”

I laugh softly,

“I fear we’ve managed to just about match each other on this one…. You want details?”

“Lyra. DUH.”

“Shut the fuck up nerd!” I punch his arm, he feigns looking like a hurt puppy.

“Well… one by one we take them out, baiting them to different parts of the castle, in groups or individually until we dwindle their numbers in the great hall. Then we lock the doors and strike with some kind of impossible strength and divine protection… carving a path until Antinous is the last one standing. And of course like you said, it switches up who takes the final blow; gods is it a sight for sore eyes… At the end of it we’d stand over the bodies, heavy breathing and covered in blood and just…”

…I bite my tongue and cut the fantasy short.

“—Revel in it.” I finish.

“Heh. I can almost see it… I’d feel like a god and you’d look fucking amazing covered in blood.”

I look at him from the side. That’s two strikes now. I wonder if he’s trying to allude to something…

“Yeah?” I ask with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yeah…—”

Just then, my mothers soft steps enter the house, Interrupting my train of thought.

“Mom!” I say sitting up, followed by Telemachus.

“Where've you been? It’s dark out—”

My mother gives me a playful look, “I visited the market if you must concern yourself~ Hello, Telemachus” she greets him patting his arm and letting down a basket of food.

“Mother!” He greets my mom, beaming. With how long he’s known us and with the amount of time he’s spent in our home over the years, she’s basically a second mother to him. And she cares for him as if he’s the son she never had.

“Shall I make a place for you at the table?”

He grins widely. My mother puts such care into anything she makes. It’s a million times better than what the cooks back at the palace make, and he’d take home cooked over anything else. Any day.

“If you don’t mind— I’ve definitely missed dinner back at home…” he says knowing he’d lost track of time, but he knows Penelope will know where he’s run off to.

“You know you’re always welcome at our table~” She return his smile, “I’m going to tend to the garden, I’ll be back shortly.” My mother leaves us alone to go gather herbs and care for the plants outside. The many shades of greens leaves and colored flowers await her.

“What were we saying?” He asks crossing his legs so he faces me where he sits on the bed.

“I don’t remember…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHORS NOTE: what the fuck is up with this clunky ass funky ass editing on here 💀 I can’t select shit and if I press enter half the time it deletes everything wtf diva

NEXT CHAPTER HAS SMUT✨✨✨ it’ll be less thorough and carved out + also way less long as compared to the real smutty shit I’ll get into. BUT it’s still good shit~ All those chapters will have warnings at the beginning!

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ghostfish-cookie · 2 months ago

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Welp guess who's back again. Simultaneously took longer, and shorter than intended, but I've got something in the works, but have something to show for it now at least!

It's an AU that is.. yet to have a name, but the basis is that all cookies have animal features! :]

With that in mind, here's the two designs I've got so far!

(Putting them under a cut so the post isn't too long, lol)

Pure Vanilla, a sheep with warm wool, and an equally warm smile. The king of the Vanilla kingdom, he's a gentle and calm healer, and though he has incredible expertise in magic of all kinds, retains healing and protection as his specialties. He really likes his space and his privacy, despite how friendly he is.

I'm not sure about the staff I gave him, but we'll see... It still has the same functionality as his usual orchid staff, just.. a couple more flowers that are much, much smaller. His usual outfit is the one on the right, which is basically his canon outfit, but with the addition of lotsa fluff, hehe! The left is an alternative outfit inspired somewhat by the Pastel Blue costume, because I love it a lot hehehe!

Shadow Milk Blueberry Milk, an eccentric and theatrical rabbit who lives in Pure Vanilla's dreams, quite literally. His situation is somewhat of a mystery to Pure Vanilla, but he knows the rabbit is rather lonely without him. Blueberry Milk is full of jokes, excitement and energy, making every night entertaining through a handmade stageplay, or an intriguing conversation. He's incredibly intelligent despite his chipper and lax attitude, which shows clearest in deeper conversations.

His design is very inspired by the statue seen in Episode 7, though also with definite use of Shadow Milk's current design, and referencing his sprites a little, especially for colors. He might get some design changes over time, mostly adding some details perhaps? His outfit feels a little too plain for him methinks... haveta think about it I suppose :3

In Pure Vanilla's dreams, he'd made a friend unlike any other, and they ended up becoming closer and closer to each other after years and years of talking each and every night. After all, Blueberry already knew Vanilla's deepest secret, so for once, there was nothing for him to hide... which I'll get into later. ;]

I will note, some other characters and their animals have been figured out but not too many. I have most of the other ancients, and some of the other beasts though!

(EDIT: SOME DETAILS LISTED BELOW HAVE BEEN RETCONNED ALREADY... SORRY ABOUT THAT.(When I have a masterpost, I'll be so powerful...))

Dark Cacao: Moose Golden Cheese: Bird(Wow, shocker.. still haven't figured out what kind yet though, because it will be more specific than 'bird') White Lily: Mantis(Possibly Orchid Mantis) Hollyberry: I'm trying to decide between Draconic or a Bear.. hmm...

Mystic Flour: Spider Burning Spice: Lion Honestly don't know enough about the other two beasts to decide for them quite yet methinks..

Here's some more loose ideas I have for other characters:

Werewolf is going to be a wolf, obviously. Cream Ferret, Fig, Kumiho and Cream Unicorn are along the same lines for obvious reasons. Crunchy Chip will also be a wolf most likely(unless I get a better idea(unlikely)) I think Rye should be either a cow or horse I would like the faeries to be bugs, specifically along the lines of butterflies and moths The mer cookies like Crimson Coral, Sorbet Shark, Frilled Jellyfish, Squid Ink, etc. probably will mostly remain how they are, and same with the dragons. Chili Pepper might be a raccoon, or a weasel because I think it'd be funny Strawberry I think is gonna be some kind of cat. Not sure about Wizard and Gingerbrave right now though

Anyway, I'll be back later, Fish out ✌️

#ghostly art #cookie run kingdom #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #vanilla milkshake #shadowvanilla #marigold au #I'll make a masterpost at some point... this au is a major WIP though for now #Believe me when I say I have thoughts for it though ;]#Considering calling the au Marigold because it's the name of a song that inspired me to make it but idk if it fits as a name..

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cosmicroadkill · 2 months ago

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So I'm making a shapeshifter AU for Cookie Run and rn I'm trying to figure out what animals some of the cookies should turn into and I wanted some of y'all's thoughts What I have so far for the Ancients and Beasts is: Pure Vanilla-Bighorn Sheep Hollyberry-Marsican Bear Dark Cacao-Korean Hare Golden Cheese-Eleonora's Falcon White Lily-Mountain Goat Shadow Milk-European Mink Burning Spice-Liger Mystic Flour-Goliath Bird Eater Tarantula I'm not sure what I want Eternal Sugar and Silent Salt to be but I might wait until they come out to pick but I'm also on the fence about Mystic Flour and Shadow Milk I like Mink for Shadow Milk because long fuzzy noodles (I was gonna make him a cobra since he's represented by a snake but I felt like a mink or some other weasel would also work?) but I'm also considering wolf since that's another animal he's associated with and would put him in natural opposition to sheep Vanilla. If I do that, though, I might make Mystic Flour a fox instead to put her in opposition to Cacao being a hare. What do you guys think?

#cookie run kingdom #crk au #crk #dark cacao cookie #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #mystic flour cookie #hollyberry cookie #golden cheese cookie #white lily cookie #burning spice cookie #shapeshifter au

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mewtwoandme · 6 months ago

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Are we sure Jeo has better control over his Pumpkin Spice addiction, lol jk

He can be a sneaky weasel from time to time. Where do you think Amber gets it from XD

#answered ask #elxdee

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theheartofone · 1 year ago

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Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Twenty-Eight

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Sugar and Spice and Everything… Sooty

Raya races all the way up the ladder, her breath staggering in her lungs like a hellhound set on a bedevilled chase. She leans against the door, lips parting for the sharp and successive breaths to leave her system, her arms firmly curling over the heavy crate of alcohol she’s managed to swipe from the kitchen.

A heavy quake stammers across the surface of the crate, vibrations pulsing through the glass bottles like a fissure ready to spill. Almost unwillingly, she cranes her neck downwards to the mysterious assault, and when she realises the source of the ruckus, her lips fold into a heavy grimace.

Across the surface of the box lies the shattered remnants of Kikoku, humming and shuddering in such a startlingly low pitch, that its voice could raise devil spawn to grace human land.

Fuck, she hisses to herself. What has she gotten herself into?

Through the brown strands of her windswept hair, her eyes pierce down at Roronoa who reluctantly grabs the ladder by his firm hands as he heaves himself forward.

This is all his fault, she thinks to herself - a thought she finds herself repeating more and more often as a source of respite.

“I don’t get what you want me to do,” he grumbles out, a tied bottle of sake dangling from in between his teeth. His feet smoothly trace along the next ledge of the ladder. “I don’t know how to make swords. I don’t know how to -”

“Don’t try to weasel your way out of this, Roronoa. You’re guarding me,” Raya instantly replies, leaning over the high ledge of the crow’s nest. Her eyes briefly scan through the crowd of pirates, impatient fingers fumbling over the bannister like a worried mother.

“Guard?” Zoro immediately bursts into a scoff. He climbs the last ledge with one effortless leap, his boots creaking against the wooden panels of the floor. “You’re actually being serious?”

Raya doesn’t look at him - instead, she squints her eyes even harder, trying to filter through the mass of drunken moving bodies. “Look – he’s there.”

You subtly nudge your head downwards to a certain narrow-eyed pirate’s direction. Thankfully, after begging for Nami’s help to keep him distracted, it seems like he’s actually starting to loosen up. You notice there’s a beer curled within his inked fingers, and every so often he lifts that same bottle up to his lips, liquid pouring into his mouth with a sharp swig.

Into a smiling mouth, to be precise.

Raya gapes at him a little, and despite the hellish circumstance she’s in, a little grin appears on her lips as she takes in his countenance.

He’s actually been smiling for more than two seconds so far – isn’t that some sort of new record for Law or what? Raya thinks to herself.

"Look, he's all tipsy right now," she explains, turning back to face Zoro with a frown reserved only for the likes of him. "But we both know he'll snap out of it soon enough. And when he does, he's going to climb all the way up here and beat both our asses up. You're here to make sure he doesn't catch us off guard."

Zoro stares at her, clearly unimpressed with his designated role. "So, I'm the one who has to deal with his whining while you get to…?"

Raya stares back at him, clearly unimpressed with his reaction. “Roronoa, I’m fixing the goddamn sword you fell on. You guarding me sounds like a walk in the park compared to what I have to do.”

And for a moment, they’re locked in a silent staring contest.

Raya's eyes are narrowed in determination, her gaze like twin laser beams boring into Zoro's skull. She looks like a furious wet cat ready to swipe her paws at the source of her irritation - or maybe more like a stubborn toddler refusing to back down from a standoff with a particularly dead statue.

Zoro, on the other hand, looks like he’s trying to channel his inner rock, his expression stony and unyielding. But there’s a twitch in his eyebrow, a hint of something dancing in his eyes, as if he’s secretly enjoying this absurd standoff with her.

But just when it seems like the silence might go on forever, a small, involuntary twitch at the corner of Zoro's mouth gives him away. Raya catches it immediately and can’t help but smirk triumphantly, knowing she’s won this round.

"Glad you agree," she replies, her voice laced with sarcasm. She throws him a bottle of beer, flipping her hair in his face.

With an irritated grunt and a shuffle away, Zoro instinctively catches the bottle and takes a long swig, his gaze fixed on Law as he monitors his movements. For a while, the two of them stand in silence, the only sounds being the distant ruckus of music and voices and the gentle creaking of the ship blending beneath them.

“Whatever. Let’s go inside before he sees us fucking around up here,” he murmurs. And with a swift spin and snatch, the crates of clinking alcohol disappear from Raya’s arms and into the swordsman’s. While he casually strides into the crow’s nest. Raya remains standing there blinking stupidly, completely taken off guard by his quick-handed thievery.

With that, the realisation rises, a growl set on her face as she stomps after Zoro, hot on his heels.

“Don’t forget we’re sharing those!” she hisses.

In response, the swordsman rolls his eyes but doesn't protest, knowing that arguing with Raya will only prolong their time on deck where they risk being spotted by Law. He sets the crates down with a thud, and they both settle into a comfortable silence as they crack open the bottles and down their drinks.

Zoro’s expression is unreadable as he surveys the mess before him. "So, what's the plan?" he asks, his voice gruff but curious.

Raya sighs, running a hand through her thick hair as she tries to gather her thoughts. "First, I need to assess the damage," she says, leaning her elbows over the table above the broken sword. "Then… I guess I’ll get cooking…"

Zoro nods, leaning on the table beside her as he examines the poor mess of Kikoku. The once formidable blade lies in pieces before them, the jagged edges reflecting the dim light of the lanterns overhead.

"Well, it's definitely broken," Zoro says straight-faced.

"Thanks for that insightful observation," Raya snaps, reaching for one of the broken pieces of the sword. “Really, what would I do without your thought-provoking commentary, Roronoa?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” He retorts, laying lazily against one of her stools. “I’m trapped in here, doing fuck-all.”

Raya looks at him indifferently and shrugs. “Sleep?”

“I’m not tired, I’m bored.”

Raya smirks, a sudden mischievous glint appearing in her eyes. Whatever idea she’s cooked up is getting her excited, with the way her teeth are gleaming in their full glory.

"Weeeell, lucky for you, I've got just the thing to cure your boredom," she says, reaching under the table and pulling out a tattered colouring book and a handful of crayons. She sets them on the table in front of Zoro with a playful grin. "Try this. I'm sure Chopper won't mind if you borrow it for a bit."

Zoro eyes the colouring supplies sceptically, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me," he mutters, picking up one of the crayons and turning it over in his hand. Raya offers him a shit-eating grin when he raises an eyebrow at her.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" she urges, nudging the colouring book closer to him, repeatedly pushing it into his elbow like prodding a wad of lettuce on a stick to an unimpressed tiger. "And who knows, maybe you'll discover a hidden passion for art."

Zoro hesitates for a moment, then sighs dejectedly and takes the crayon, flipping open the colouring book to a random page.

"You’re gonna be the end of me," he mutters, leaning back in his chair and starting to colour in a picture of a pirate ship.

Raya watches with amusement as Zoro tentatively starts colouring - his movements, cautious at first before he gradually gains confidence, his strokes becoming bolder and more deliberate. She can't help but snicker at the sight, finding it oddly endearing to see the idiot swordsman engaging in such a seemingly childish activity.

For a while, they work in companionable silence, the only sounds being the scratching of crayons against paper, the clinking of metal and the occasional chug of beer as they take breaks to de-sober themselves. Raya finds herself relaxing as she focuses on the task at hand, the tension of the earlier confrontation with Law fading into the background.

But as they work, she can't shake the feeling of Kikoku's presence beside her, the broken pieces of the sword humming with a furious energy that seems to seep into the air around them. Raya glances at the shattered remains of the once formidable blade, a frown tugging at her lips as she tries to make sense of the strange sensation.

Kikoku seems to be muttering to her, the fragments of the sword vibrating with an intensity that sends a shiver down Raya's spine. She strains to make out the words, but they're muffled and indistinct like whispers carried on the wind.

"Kikoku, what are you saying?" Raya murmurs, reaching out to touch one of the broken pieces of the sword.

In immediate response, Kikoku screeches from underneath her fingertips, making Raya flinch her hand away in shock.

‘What do you fucking think, you incompetent excuse of a human being?’ It screams in Raya’s head, rattling her very bones in her body.

Raya clenches her teeth, anxiously running a hand through her hair. "I’m sorry, Kikoku. I really am. I don’t know how it all… If you let me, I promise I’ll be able to fix you."

Kikoku hums angrily in response, the vibrations of her broken body resonating against the desk. It swirls around on the wooden surface, almost trying to will itself to spiral around into a flurry of blades.

‘Not enough. I seek for revenge. Not enough. Not enough.’

"Kikoku, please," Raya pleads softly, her voice laced with desperation. "I understand that you're angry, but I can fix you. Let me help you.”

Again, the sword vibrates with an almost manic energy, its broken edges glinting ominously in the dim light of the lanterns.

"I’ll find a way to make things even, I promise," Raya continues, her voice tinged with determination. "But for now, I have to focus on fixing you. Once you're whole again, we can figure out what to do next."

‘What are you planning, human?’ she spits, her voice sharp and demanding. ‘Let me listen to your pathetic attempt at salvaging my trust.’

The swordsmith takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what comes next. "First, I need to assess the extent of your damage," she says, reaching for another piece of the broken sword. "Then, I'll figure out a way to repair you. And if that's not enough... well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Kikoku's response was a begrudging silence, the vibrations of her broken pieces slowly starting to calm. Raya took it as a small victory, a glimmer of hope in the midst of uncertainty.

Raya offers a tentative smile to the sword. “I won’t let you down.”

Hours pass in a blur as Raya meticulously fits the broken pieces of Kikoku back together, her hands steady despite the weight of the task. It's slow progress, but with each piece she adds, she can feel Kikoku's energy shifting, becoming less volatile and more... resigned.

"I'm sorry," Zoro blurts out suddenly, the words tumbling from his lips before he can stop them, his voice slightly slurred from the amount of alcohol in his system.

Raya’s head snaps up, surprise flickering in her eyes as she meets Zoro’s gaze. Her fingers pause in the momentum of her work, work now being the last thing on her mind.

"I… For what?" She mutters out.

Zoro leans over the table, his fingers gently spinning the bottle around in his hands.

"For...for breaking the sword," Zoro admits, his voice tinged with regret. "I didn't mean to...I mean, I know that doesn't excuse what happened, but I just...I'm sorry."

Raya pauses, taken aback by the unexpected apology. She stares at Zoro, seeing the sincerity in his eyes despite the haze of alcohol clouding his judgment.

His lone grey eye remains steadfast on her, and although he tries his best to mask himself into indifference, a flicker of something breaks through when Raya really looks at him with her soft brown eyes.

Something breaks within him – or more so, something loosens up within him, and his control over himself - albeit hanging on by fragile and intoxicated threads - has finally been torn apart.

Raya doesn’t know why, but her breath catches in her throat when he does this. When he really looks at her. With that grey eye, intense and relentless with feeling.

In a panic, she immediately disengages from the stare and looks down to her lap, one hand fumbling with a hammer, the other shrouded in a red-hot flame for blade-tempering.

For a moment, silence envelops them, broken only by the faint sound of their breathing and the occasional crackle of flames from Raya's hand. She's not used to hearing such sincerity from him, especially not when it comes to admitting fault. It catches her off guard, leaving her at a loss for how to respond… and now, she doesn’t know what to do.

Instead, she focuses on the task at hand, the broken pieces of Kikoku spread out before her like a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be solved. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her hands as she reaches for another piece of the sword.

"It's... I know, Roronoa," Raya finally manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper. She can feel the warmth of Zoro's gaze on her, his silent offer of forgiveness hanging in the air.

Raya can’t control it any longer. She has to look up at him again, and when she does, her warm brown eyes latch onto his enraptured gaze with such ease, with such naturalness.

And then, Zoro’s stare softens.

Raya doesn’t even recognise this… look on the swordsman, this out-of-place soft glint that consumes his face, like he’s finally uncoiled his hands from the tight reins of his self-restraint.

Zoro doesn’t know what else there is to say. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel at this moment, either. But in his drunken courage, his hand acts out of its own will, lifting up and away from his bottle as his eyes flicker down to her mouth.

Raya’s breath halts as she remains still. Her own senses have vanished away, along with her train of thoughts, and all she wants to do is to lean into his hand.

And they do. Zoro’s fingers press against her jaw, deftly lifting her chin up. He makes her stare straight at him with no room to escape. And Raya is completely breathless. She gives in to the pressure of his fingers, blinking at him curiously, observing the all-consuming focus on his face. His eye flickers down from her gaze to her mouth, his thumb laying idly only a few millimetres away from her skin.

And with no thought in those eyes, his thumb reaches and presses to the corner of her lips, swiping in one circular movement. For a moment, Raya’s lost in the intensity of Zoro's gaze, the heat of his touch lingering on her skin like a brand.

A subtle breath releases from his lips when he touches the corner of her mouth.

He moves his thumb again, unsatisfied with the singular touch, now placing it ever-so softly over Raya’s lips. He looks at her in the eyes, his gaze darkening and unwavering, as he brushes his thumb over her mouth, parting them ever so slightly, so softly, so slowly.

But then, as quickly as it came, the moment passes. Zoro pulls away, his expression once again hardened into a mask of indifference. He picks up his bottle, taking a long swig of sake as if to wash away the lingering traces of emotion.

He shows his thumb to you, a layer of dark black powder coating his skin.

“You had soot on your face,” he mutters out roughly.

Raya blinks in surprise, her heart pounding in her chest as she processes what just happened. She can still feel the lingering warmth of Zoro's touch on her lips, the ghost of his thumb brushing against her skin, the heat of his breath hitting her skin.

And for a moment, she's at a loss for words, her mind reeling from the unexpected intimacy of the gesture. She looks up at Zoro, her gaze searching his face for any sign of what he might be feeling, but Zoro's expression remains impassive. His eye remains unreadable as he wipes the soot from his thumb with a nonchalant air - it's as if the moment never happened, as if he's already moved on from whatever fleeting emotion prompted his actions.

She swallows hard, trying to push down the heat that surges within her. She knows that she should say something, to retort back with a typical Raya joke or simply say something really sarcastic, but all of the tricks in her conversational mind die right at the tip of her tongue, right at the entrance of where his fingers were laying against only a few moments ago.

But before she can do anything – to recover any tiny piece of dignity that still remains within her, a sudden crash from outside the crow's nest shatters the moment, sending them both scrambling to the porthole with hushed breaths.

As they silently peer into the window, they’re met with the sight of Law stumbling towards the door, his movements erratic and unsteady, a wild look in his eyes.

"Shit," Raya curses under her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "He’s early."

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lanafofana · 29 days ago

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

thank you for the tag @vespaer77!! no pressure low stakes tags: @xxnashiraxx @roguishcat @spooky-lil-bee @sorceresssundries

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

Eleven! So many!

2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 46,400

3) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Instinct (Halsin/Tav NSFW) My first entry into HalsinTavWeek 2024! Aww can't believe it's nearly been a year! Scent Mark (Halsin/Tav NSFW) To be honest, they are all for the 2024 Halsin Tav Week lmao Afforded A Chance (Halsin/Tav NSFW) Something sweet. And smutty. Colossus (Halsin/Tav NSFW) Size kink + getting high. Need I say more? The Faithwarden and the Archdruid (Halsin/Tav NSFW) Misunderstanding that ends in yummy yummy smut.

4) What fandoms do you write for?

Ohhh boy let me see. Baldurs Gate 3, Palia, Dragon Age (Inquisition and Veilguard but I hope to write some for DAO and DA2), MCU, Lord of the Rings/Hobbit/Silmarillion, The Tawny Man Trilogy, I even wrote a couple for The Labyrinth lol.

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! That said I sometimes make a mental note to respond and then three months later I'm like...oops? And then it's been so long and I agonize over responding or not. Sometimes I do, sometimes I just send my mental appreciation and carry on. I do deeply appreciate each comment tho and often revisit them when my brain weasels are playing field hockey with my self esteem as a writer.

6) What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I haven't published any of them actually! I have quite a few in my drafts though. There's a version of an ending for Dream in Red (my Durge/Tav long fic) that's probably the saddest.

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics end with a happy ending (😏) That said, The Faithwarden and the Archdruid, Cuckoo for Cuckhold, and Pumpkin Spiced Larceny all had endings that I really liked.

8) Do you get hate on fics?

No [aggressively knocks on wood] everyone who comments has been very sweet. Love the BG3 fandom.

9) Do you write smut?

10) Do you write crossovers?

Technically no but there has been a BG3/DA crossover concept of Shadowheart landing in Thedas that's been rotating in my brain rotisserie style for a while and still hasn't limped off in defeat so maybe this year! Who knows! Certainly not me!

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I doubt it. If I have I don't know about it.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so but that would be extremely cool.

13) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes many times! (Not recently though)

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Solavellan. Hands down.

15) What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Gods, can't I say all of them? It feels like all of them these days. The brain just doesn't want to brain. Published WIP-wise it has to be Gold Rush. Now that I'm back to playing Palia maybe inspiration will strike and I can get going on that again.

16) What are your writing strengths?

I've been complimented on my writing style, variations on "phrases you use/beautiful way of saying things" so I suppose that? I really don't know. Idk what I'm doing.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

Getting distracted before I finish something and never going back to it? Impatience with editing and, thus, publishing before I probably should. Hasty. Hasty to write, hasty to publish. lol

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

As a reader I love it. I think it's neat and helps immerse me in the world. As a writer I worry constantly if I'm doing it "right" (fiction language like elvhen) or grammatically correct (for real world languages I'm not fluent in).

19) First fandom you wrote for?

Lord of the Rings. Yeah buddy.

20) Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

As yet unfinished and unpublished favorites are: Dream in Red my Durge/Tav long fic or [Untitled Document] my Solavellan long fic. Favorite Published/Completed works would be: This funny little Tavphael Christmas fic Pumpkin Spiced Larceny (Gen, tadfoolery) Temptation (Tavphael NSFW) Midnight Snack (Gale x Tav NSFW)

So long and thanks for all the fish!

#tag game #fanfic writing #fanfic rec

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legrandepapillon · 10 months ago

Note

Hi! I saw you are taking prompts for Wyllsrarion fluff!

Such a shame there is a lack of content compared to other Astarion pairings (i.e. with Gale or Durge).

Prompt fluff ideas, first kiss where Astarion realizes the depth of his feelings for Wyll. Or Astarion confessions to Wyll. His realization.

Wyll playing with Astarion's hair.

Wyll letting Astarion see himself through Wyll's eyes via tadpole and feeling how much Wyll loves him.

Astarion being fiercely protective of Wyll which may or may not surprise him (depends how early it is in relationship)

Since your say you are fine with NSFW then by all means go for it, I won't say know to Wyllsrarion spice. But it's also not entirely necessary because their fluff is just *chef kiss*

Asking anonymously because I am bashful...

Rating: T

hi anon, thanks for all the prompts you gave me!! i chose to use this one to respond to your ask, but i still put the others in my requests so keep your eyes peeled for those. one of them might be the spice you were looking for 👀

i think there’s something super intimate in hair care/trusting someone else with your hair care and i wanted to explore that here. i’m thinking maybe a part 2 to this where astarion tries to figure out wyll’s hair care & it goes disastrously bc i can't reconcile a universe where astarion is good at doing wyll's hair lol

Wyll had noticed that vulnerability did not come easy to the pale vampire in their party. He could hardly blame him for the matter either; after two-hundred years spent being ground into nothing by another man’s heel, he might begin to recoil at the idea of showing any weakness himself. Hells, it’d only taken seven with Mizora’s claws in his soul for him to begin to tremble at the thought of anyone seeing him at his most vulnerable in the same humiliating ways she had.

It was probably easier for their pale companion to lean into the more bloodthirsty, power hungry nature expected of a vampire spawn. To cast aside fickle things like sensitivity or emotion or fragility. He kept every single of his defenses up, the tripwires and traps in conversations with him deterring most of the others from prying down to the white meat of who he is. If it could be even remotely related to the feeling of helplessness, he would never want it associated with himself. Better to put on the armor of his more vicious traits, leave some of the softer stuff tucked in a well-armed chest at the back of his mind.

And yet.

Yet he obviously had never bargained to meet anyone just as dexterous and twice as charming. In all his efforts of keeping others out with his sharp tongue and sharp blades and well-placed traps, he’d never accounted for the possibility that there might be someone out there able to parry each strike and disarm every obstruction. Wyll could tell he had Astarion on the back foot more often than not. And at first the man had scratched and kicked and hissed at the idea of being seen and surreptitiously cared for. Of someone seeing all of his breaks and tears and taking the time to mend them rather than grinding salt into the wounds. It was truly a sight, watching as he braced himself for impact and then immediately melted against tender touch. He marvels at it.

A quarter way through their journey, surrounded by the glowing unfamiliar flora of the Underdark, and Wyll has already weaseled his way past so many of those traps and alarms. He hasn’t quite gotten Astarion to trust him, but it’s a very near thing now.

It shows in the way he slips into his tent every night, back from his hunts for more duergar and drow blood. He would half-stumble past the flaps of Wyll’s tent, illuminated in the shadows only by the odd glow of the vegetation surrounding their camp. Prop himself up awkwardly across the tent until the warlock arranged himself in a way that’s satisfactory to him. Wyll would always be ready for him—taking Astarion’s head on his lap, and placing one of the trashy adventuring novels they shared in his hands. The elf would read aloud from their novel, sniping at the dialogue and rolling his eyes at the prose wherever he desired whilst Wyll tended to the night routine for those rakish silvery curls of his.

All of it done with hardly a word these days, a tradition started after Astarion had gotten too drunk on a bear and kept for the sake of companionship. For the sake of having someone that understands intrinsically the fears of being vulnerable, the breath of a monster on your neck at each waking move, the exhaustion of being strong and the desire to be weak for a while.

It wasn’t trust, but it was as close to it as he could get.

Wyll begins rummaging through the small pouch of items Astarion keeps for his personal hygiene whilst the vampire flips through to the page they’d left off on. He daren’t bother with the intricate routine of the man’s morning care, the scrunching and twisting and styling a bit beyond his own proficiency. But he knows this act well enough, separating rows of hair gently with a comb and moisturizing both scalp and curls in a pattern. He does it himself, every two ten days—sometimes four, if he was too caught up with adventuring to tend to it sooner. His own hair is wild at the roots now, the fresh new growth peeking out from formerly tidy canerows. Since Mizora had given him his horns and claws, he’d been too afraid of attempting to navigate re-braiding with the foreign appendages. The thought of undoing the style, only to be stuck fighting with his hair in his face because he couldn’t redo it kept him off the task. Perhaps he’d be vulnerable enough to ask Karlach, when they got her touch fixed. Or maybe teach Astarion, so that their nightly routine could be reciprocated every now and then.

Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone treat him as tenderly as he does them?

Surfacing with Astarion’s cream and comb, Wyll readjusts the older man’s head in his lap before starting on his work. Parting the row of hair closest to his ear, before dabbing some of the moisturizer onto his scalp and then combing it through his curls. He’d once offered up his oils, the first time Astarion had run out of conditioner and the next merchant was another four-days trek back. But he remembers the way the vampire had recoiled—first at the genuine gesture of kindness, and then at the reality of it. He’d batted off the offer by insisting Wyll’s oils would only make his hair greasy and unattractive, but had managed to thank him anyways.

That had been before their little routine. Had he known then what he knows now, he might not have been so put out by the clear dismissal of help.

Another row, more of the conditioner. When he combs through the curls, he marvels at how they immediately shrink back into their perfect shape. It was the first thing he’d noticed about him, back at the grove. The sunlight that filtered through the halo of his silvery locks, the way they seemed to fall into place no matter which way the elf shook his head. Well-coifed and obviously tenderly cared for, he’d been utterly transfixed. Perhaps obviously so, with the way Shadowheart had snorted at his mention of it and Gale had given him one of those ‘I’m-going-to-find-out-what-you’re-up-to’ stares. There’d been no ulterior motive, of course.

Except for maybe this.

“Wyll, I can’t believe you read this drivel, darling,” Astarion complains, gently tugging him from his thoughts. Wyll doesn’t take his eyes off of his task, but he does make a noise to inform the other man he’s listening. “The young maiden hurried to cover her perfectly hairless body, squeezing her arms across her ample bosom. It did naught to help maintain her chastity though, as her full breasts spilled over her clutched arms. I mean, really. Talk about an author’s thinly veiled fetishes.”

“Ah, The Lusty Luskan Lordess,” he responds, comb delicately parting one section of Astarion’s hair so that his finger can swipe a bit more conditioner along his scalp. “I didn’t pick that one, remember? You stole it from that Zhents pack back at their hideout.”

“I did?” Astarion flips the cover to reveal the front art. It’s a rather lewd painting of a young woman, half-dressed in finery and throwing herself at a tall, broad and beastly mercenary come to steal from her tower. The vampire makes a snort of acknowledgement after a moment. “So I did. I thought the mercenary looked disturbingly like Halsin, you know.”

Wyll’s hand stills briefly in Astarion’s head, confusion written expressly over his youthful features. He scrunches his nose. “You wanted to read smut about Halsin?”

“No. I wanted us to read smut about Halsin. I thought it would be terribly funny,” Astarion lowers the book to get a good look at the other man—though upside down—and furrows his brow. “Don’t stop. That felt nice.”

“Your wish is my command, Lordess,” Wyll chuckles, before returning back to the small puddle of curls splayed in his lap. “Skip the smut if it bothers you so much, I want to know what her father will do now that he knows someone’s found her tower.”

“Skip the smut? And disgrace the artistic integrity of whatever pervert wrote this garbage? Absolutely not! We’ll read every bit of the smut, and I’ll add footnotes to correct it into something more realistic.”

“As if you’re the expert on sex,” snorts Wyll, walking face first into one of those many aforementioned conversational traps that Astarion had laid. The vampire stiffens in his hold a bit, and out of courtesy he withdraws his hands from his hair. It’s times like this, moments of levity followed by the crushing reminders about reality, that Wyll wishes they could’ve met in one of their fairytale books. With no Vampire Lord or Cambion Mistress to answer to, he wonders how their story might’ve gone. Would he have been able to sweep Astarion delicately off of his feet and off into the sunset? Would Astarion have allowed him to?

He laments how he’ll never know, and then puts those thoughts aside himself. Astarion is not the only one with a tightly guarded chest of fears and dreams and desires that he kept away from the rest of the world, hidden to where nobody—not even the devil that lives in his eye—could ever see it.

“After two hundred years, dear, I quite think I am,” Astarion hisses. Fair enough; Wyll had perhaps earned that one. The punishment for his misstep is not so bad, though. There’s a marked tension in the words of the man as he reads through the next line, and he lays stock still in Wyll’s lap. Curls half-moisturized by now, the damp bits chilling a spot on Wyll’s camp clothes. But he doesn’t get up and storm out, like he might’ve done in the early weeks of their odd arrangement. Nor does he curse the man to the planes of Avernus and back. Small mercies and little victories, the younger man takes what he can get and returns to his task.

Astarion does wind up skipping the smut scenes, grumbling that even he couldn’t wade through all that hogshit on a full stomach. Wyll isn’t perturbed either way, parting and moisturizing in methodical turns. They manage to finish two more chapters before his fingers half-abandon their task to merely run through the soft, silvery curls. Whether to placate Astarion or soothe himself is unknown, but it certainly does make him feel a bit calmer. He leans back against his tent, careful not to put too much weight on the precarious fabric. But with the gentle droning of Astarion’s voice and the steady, repeated motions of carding through his hair, Wyll feels like he could just doze off right there. His misstep in conversation goes all but forgotten as his eyelids get heavy, his ministrations against the vampire’s scalp slowed to a syrupy pace.

It isn’t until he feels Astarion move that he jerks back to alertness, adding a hurried, “I wasn’t asleep!” to make sure Astarion didn’t think his presence was at all boring or exhausting. The last thing he’d want is for these nightly rendezvous to come to an abrupt conclusion because he was rude enough to doze off in the middle of them.

“Ah-hm, that’s very convincing, sweetling,” Astarion mocks, before sitting up to run his fingers through his own hair. They come back slightly shiny with the conditioner, but even if Wyll fell asleep with a quarter left to do, the vampire seems satisfied enough with his work. “Come now. Before you wind up with a crick on your neck.”

He tries to protest, even as Astarion is already helping to arrange him into his bedroll. “I wasn’t done with your—”

“It’s fine, Wyll. More than fine. You did wonderfully; cut my morning routine in half, practically,” Astarion placates, though they both know he’s lying through his teeth. No matter whether he and Wyll finished their little night tradition, Astarion always took the same amount of time in his tent every morning. Gale had a running bet with the others on whether he was actually that self-conscious about his appearance or if he did it just because he knew Lae’zel preferred to get moving as quickly as possible.

Whether he’s being fed platitudes or not, Wyll gives him a warm half-smile. Astarion arranges the thin blanket of his bedroll around him in turn in order to give him a more comfortable rest. Their routine wraps up here the same every night. With Astarion’s hair seen to, and Wyll’s adventure romance novels read, company kept so that the others vulnerabilities would remain safe from the rest another day… the end of the evening would creep upon them.

Wyll never fully remembers the moments between consciousness—Astarion’s head in his lap and lily lilt of his tone reading the novel droning on—and unconscious—waking up drenched a cold sweat to an empty tent, the leftover laughter of Mizora chilling him down to the bone. How he gets from one point to the other. Sometimes he’ll doze off still in his padded armor and awake in his camp clothes. Once even fell asleep across the tent, and woke up tucked sweetly into his bedroll. Only faint memories of silver curls illuminated into a glowing halo by moonlight, and crimson eyes that track forlornly over his form.

And every night, Wyll would sleepily shoot out one hand to clutch at his companions’. Delicately wrap his warm digits around that frail death-cold wrist and give one half-hearted tug. His voice, laden with both exhaustion and deep yearning, he asks, “Astarion? Stay with me?”

And every night, Astarion would purse his lips into a line. As if he’s almost considering it for a moment. As if perhaps rummaging for a key to one of his chests that he’d long tossed aside, some sort of magic word that could make Wyll understand why he dances so hesitantly in and out of their… this… whatever it was.

“Perhaps when we finish the book,” he says, like he does always, patting Wyll’s hand gently. “Go to sleep—you need more of it than I do.”

“Goodnight, Astarion,” Wyll responds, already half there, letting his head loll to the side and eyes flutter closed.

The next evening, when he approaches his tent at camp, a fresh book awaits him… and a new tin of the conditioning cream. They hadn’t quite finished the Lusty Lordess, with a handful more chapters before she and her mercenary were able to achieve their happy ending. But there’s a new book for them to start all the same, the last one probably long-discarded between the days’ events.

It isn’t a ‘no’. Just a ‘not yet’. Wyll sighs and settles down on his bedroll to wait for Astarion to come to him. It’ll hardly be while there are still others awake, able to see him slip in and out of the other man’s temporary lodgings. But he knows that’ll it come, and neither of them will mention the fresh start to a book when one still went unfinished between them.

It seems there’s a few more traps he’d have to disarm before he could reach the man behind them. No matter to it; Wyll is a patient, tenacious sort of fellow.

#boy do i have queues for you #astarion ancunin #wyll ravengard #wyllstarion: the horns do look dashing on him; almost anything does…#baldur's gate 3 #drabble #bloodpact: so much shadow around us #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 fanfiction #the blade of frontiers!: wyll ravengard #time to kill: astarion ancunín #well done soldier!: prompt fill #bg3 #wyll x astarion #astarion x wyll #wyllstarion #bloodpact

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say-hwaet · 27 days ago

Text

That's the Way it Is

Chapter 27: Should We Ever Be Apart Next Chapter: Coming soon! Summary: Now that a plan is in motion, albeit an undesired one, Kit and Arthur must come to terms with the risks and rewards should this all work out. And she still wants to help others see the writing on the wall. Warnings: Language, Mature themes, Micah, Some Spice Word Count: ~7,500

You wake up with your nose buried in the crook of Arthur’s neck, but as your senses awaken, you begin to hear a dull banging on Arthur’s bedroom door.

As you recall last night, you cannot remember if he had remembered to lock the bedroom door and your eyes open wide.

“Arthur!” It's John. And feeling Arthur stir, you lean back to meet his surprised gaze. He, too, sees the problem with this situation.

While it could be a worse scenario, you don’t want anyone to know where you are. That you are here with Arthur.

You hear the doorknob turn and in a quick, hazy movement, you roll backward and fall off the cot and to the floor with a soft thud just as John swings the door open.

“Hell, Arthur, do you sleep with cotton in your ears? I’ve been knockin’ on your door for a good five minutes!”

As you remain hidden on the floor between the wall and the cot, you hear the groan in Arthur’s voice after he takes a deep breath. “Can a man sleep in peace without bein’ disturbed?”

“Well, you ain’t gonna wanna sleep when you hear what I have to say.”

There is a brief pause before Arthur speaks. “What?”

“I can’t find Kit. She ain’t in her tent and Hosea is lookin’ for her.”

Arthur lets out a snort. “Did it ever occur to you she went for a walk or somethin’?”

“But her horse is here.”

“I said walk, not ride, Marston.”

There is another beat and you hear John click his tongue. “Ain’t you the least bit worried? After what Micah said?”

“John,” Arthur begins. “I know Kit is fine. Micah wouldn’t dare try nothin’ stupid. If I see her, I’ll tell her Hosea’s lookin’ for her.”

The floorboards creak under John’s feet as he transfers his weight from one boot to the other. He’s deciding now. “Fine. Just thought you’d be more concerned.”

“I always worry about her, you know that.”

“With what we’re about to do, you should be more than you ever have.”

Arthur goes quiet for a moment before answering. “I am.”

And with that, John steps back out of the room, closing the door behind him. After a second or two, Arthur pulls the blanket back and leaps out of bed, hurrying to the door to lock it. Once you hear the click, you take that as your cue to crawl out of the space you’ve weaseled into.

As your head comes up, you meet Arthur’s gaze. “That was too close,” he says softly then smirks. “Hosea’s lookin’ for you.”

You stop as your torso meets the cot and you rest your elbows on it, tilting your head to the side and letting out a huff. “Maybe you should have locked the door?”

Arthur leans against the door and runs a hand over his face. “It was late last night. I weren’t thinkin’ about the door.”

You nod your head. “I was pretty hysterical, wasn’t I?”

He’s quick to shake his head. “You weren’t hysterical, Kit. You had a nightmare.”

“It was more than that.”

He meets your eyes again, finally stepping away from the bedroom door. “I know, darlin’. Just don’t know what else to call it.”

You finish climbing out of the gap and crawl on top of the cot. “It felt so real. They always do. More than a dream but it is still in my mind.” You place your hands on the sides of your head. “Am I going mad?”

Arthur quickens his steps to sit on the cot, its frame slightly creaking under the weight. He takes your hands away from your head, looking to meet your eyes. “You ain’t crazy, Kitka.” And you lift your chin to look at him. “I am a fool, but I’m not foolish enough to think you’ve lost your mind, just because you can’t remember things.” He lets your hands go to tuck some hair behind your ear. “Or if you go unconscious for a few minutes.”

You blink slowly, searching his face for any deceit, but there is none. “What’s it like for you?” you ask. “To see me like that?”

He glances downward, his lips forming a flat line. “It’s…worried me sometimes. You go completely still…It–it’s almost like you stop breathin’.”

Your eyes widen. “Do I…die?”

His head barely shakes, as though he isn’t sure of an answer. “I always have to check, but you’re alive. Barely breathin’.”

That explains why you gasp when you wake up each time. You never thought it was because you weren’t breathing hardly. And it seems that your memories are getting longer, heavier. Things you know are important but are wrought with horrible things. You hold yourself tightly. “When will they stop?” you exhale.

Arthur leans closer to you. “What, darlin’?”

“If these spells don’t stop, they just might kill me.”

Arthur’s hand finds yours, his grip firm yet gentle as he tries to offer you some strength. “We’ll figure this out, Kit,” he says quietly, determination set deep in his furrowed brow. “I ain't gonna let nothin’ happen to you.”

You look into his marine blue eyes, finding a little bit of reassurance in them. “I’m sorry for worrying so much.”

He lets out a snort. “You? Darlin’ if this is worryin’, I think you’re doin’ it mightily graceful-like.” His attempt at lightening the mood does make your lips twitch, hinting at a smile.

“You’re still a sweet-talker.”

“And you’re still a tease.”

And just like that, a small exchange of words is enough to lighten your spirits. You feel yourself relaxing, knowing that whatever comes, Arthur is going to take care of you. You reach out and take his hand. “I love you.”

He brings yours to his lips and kisses the back of your hand. “And I love you.”

“I probably should find a way to sneak out of here and find Hosea.”

He nods, chuckling softly, knowing that your time to play pretend has returned once again. “Probably not a bad idea.”

***

“Hey! Where do you think yer goin’?” Bill barks at you as you load your horse’s saddlebag with provisions. You know that since Molly’s abandonment, everyone has been on edge, but the constant questioning is beginning to annoy you to no end.

You scowl but don’t turn around to face Bill. “Going into the city with Hosea. He’s going to go over the plans with me.” You hear Bull grumble something under his breath and that’s when you quickly whip around. “What?”

“It seems awful suspicious to me.”

You roll your eyes. “Tell me you’re just jealous that you aren’t coming and I’ll forget your accusation.”

He grumbles again. “It—it it ain’t fair! I’ve been the one workin’ the dynamite on the bigger jobs. It was just that one time. One time! And now Dutch won’t let me touch it.”

You toss the saddlebag over your shoulder. “Dutch doesn’t seem to trust anyone right now, I don’t think it has anything to do with you.”

Bill takes a step toward you, lowering his voice and pointing a finger at you. “You watch how you talk about Dutch! He’s weighted down with all our problems!”

You quickly swat at his hand. “I am not talking about anything. And the fact that you reacted so quickly only tells me that you see it, too.”

Bill’s face reddens, the veins in his neck bulging as he grinds his teeth in frustration. “Just mind your own, Kitka,” he spits with a sneer, turning on his heel and storming off toward the gazebo, where Dutch is discussing something with Micah. Watching him go, you feel a sudden sadness. You know that you and Bill weren’t always close, but you know him well enough to feel the rift growing between you. You were hoping that you could convince him to leave, but you are afraid that it might already be too late.

There is a divide in the gang, and you know now is the time for everyone to choose their side.

And, you have a feeling, that this robbery will be the earthquake that splits the ground beneath your feet for good. The thought frightens you, because as much as you are emboldened by the idea of escape, leaving everything and everyone behind tinges your resolve with melancholy.

You sigh, feeling the weight of your memories — memories that have only recently begun to stitch themselves back together like a patchwork quilt— come further down on your shoulders.

You see Hosea step out of the mansion, and meet your eyes. You calmly walk up to meet him.

“Ready to get a tour of the plan?” he asks as casually as possible. There he goes, his knack for acting already at work.

You shrug your shoulders. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He nods towards the horses. “Bring your shire along, I think she could use the exercise.”

You nod, picking up on the idea that he has a plan for her. You walk together, side by side as you make your way to the area where the horses graze.

You whistle for Odliv and she perks up her head, a beacon amongst the other equines as their heads remain low to the ground. You can’t help but smile, grateful to have another living being that still likes you.

As you make your way over to your saddle that hangs on the hitching post, Hosea parts from you to reach Silver Dollar, his own equine companion. Carrying your saddle over to Odliv, you spot Večer and make the note to halter her before you go.

Odliv meets you halfway, rotating her body to make it easier to toss the saddle over her back. You aren’t sure if you trained that in her or not, but it is definitely convenient. You swing the saddle and blanket over and let it fall on her back, untucking the straps so you can secure it around her barrel. Her tail swishes excitedly and she tosses her head, giving a good snort.

“I’m hurrying, girl!” you chuckle. “You know, patience is a virtue!”

As though she understands you, she bobs her head up and down, but you know she’s only conveying further excitement. You pat her lovingly on the neck before walking away. On the way to Večer, you grab a halter and ready your hands.

“Jdeme za dobrodružstvím, děvče,” you say and at the sound of your voice, Večer looks up at you. “Vím, že jsme se sem dostali, ale myslím—”

“What language is that?”

Stopping in your tracks, you turn your eyes to see Lenny as he brings over a bale of hay.

You don’t recall how long Lenny has been with the gang, or how close you two are. It’s clear that you’ve done a few robberies with him, but he mainly sticks with the men.

You wish you could remember Jenny. Maybe she shared things with you, like you shared secrets with the other girls. You wish there was a way to reconnect with Lenny. Maybe see whose side he is on.

You smile at Lenny and watch him as he sets the haybale down. “Czech. Have you ever heard me speak it before?”

He shrugs. “Whenever you were teachin’ Mary Beth. Or when you’d speak to Arthur.”

You tilt your head. “Is Arthur holding out on me? I didn’t know we spoke Czech.”

Lenny shakes his head. “Just a couple words. I can’t even imagine Arthur speakin’ another language.”

You look down and smile. You can imagine what those couple of words were. “I see.”

After a pause, you look back up and see Lenny gesture toward the halter in your hand. “Goin’ somewhere?”

You nod. “Hosea and I are going to Saint Denis.” You finish the work of securing Večer in the halter. “He wants to show me where the dynamite is hidden.”

Lenny’s expression changes, his eyes intense with excitement. “This robbery is goin’ to go down in history.”

You let out an internal sarcastic thought without thinking. “Ano, just like the Blackwater Massacre?”

And there is a sudden silence that falls between you. The buzzing insects and swishing of horse tails are the only sounds that can be heard.

Lenny licks his lips, resting his hands on his gun belt. “You think Dutch’s plan ain’t gonna work or somethin’?”

It is then that you quickly look around. You see Hosea mounted on Silver Dollar. Calmly watching you.

You don’t care if he hears you. It’s the others you’re worried about.

But you need to go.

Turning back to Lenny, you let out a sharp exhale. “I just think…I just think that the timing isn’t right.” You study the young man’s face, hoping that he isn’t going to run back and tell Dutch what you’ve said. Even if that’s all you say, it might be enough for Dutch to accuse you of being a traitor. And you don’t need that right now. Not when you’re so close to leaving. “I think the Pinkertons are sniffing around. I just worry, I guess.” You try to make it vague, irrelevant. A conversation so passe that Lenny will forget it eventually.

“You sound like Hosea,” he says with a light chuckle. “He keeps tellin’ me to think about time, as in the time we have left.”

You need to act ignorant. You straighten and soften your eyes. “Do you think there’s something to what he’s saying?”

Lenny shrugs. “I get that he’s just lookin’ out for me, but this life is better than livin’ within the confines of the law. I’m treated more fairly with you all than I would be if I were on my own.” He looks out towards the camp, nodding pensively. “Everyone’s equal beneath the barrel of a gun.”

You feel your heart sink. Surely, good-natured Lenny can see the crock of bull that this all is. You need to find a rebuttal, some sort of evidence that will make Lenny question his argument.

“And Micah?” you ask. “You think he believes in equality?”

Lenny scoffs. “Micah don’t scare me. He’s a fool and his words mean nothin’.”

You grip the lead tightly. “I think it won’t be long before he stops using just his words.”

Lenny looks at you, studying your face. “What do you mean, Kitka?”

And suddenly, a rush of words fill your mind.

Kit, I need to tell you something. I have to tell someone…

What is it, Jenny? What’s wrong?

Micah…he…he tried to get me alone. He keeps pushin’ me to…I…I’m afraid of him.

Have you told Lenny?

Lenny? He ain’t my man.

But you want him to be?

It don’t matter, Kit. Just…be careful around Micah. He ain’t to be trusted…

Your free hand goes to the back of your neck to rub the tenderness that has formed there. You grimace, clenching your teeth as you wrestle with this sudden flutter of information. Dark, heavy, painful.

But conveniently given.

“Kit?” Lenny asks you, taking a step forward. “You alright?”

“Jenny,” is all you can say.

And he freezes. “What?”

Your eyes lift to meet his, you try to soften your expression as the pain continues. “Jenny. She tried to warn me about Micah.”

There is a pain behind his eyes, that fondness for her rearing itself after who knows how long he’s tried to suppress it. “She…”

You nod. “She wouldn’t have told me if she didn’t have a reason, Lenny. I’d imagine if she was still here, she’d feel the same about Micah as she did then.” You begin to back away, leading Večer with you. “Just…be careful, Lenny. Things aren’t what they seem, and I know you can read between the lines.”

He doesn’t say anything, and feeling pressed for time, you turn around and walk to Odliv. Mounting Odliv with practiced ease, you glance over your shoulder to see Lenny standing motionless, his face a mix of confusion and concern. The sunlight casts long shadows on the ground, elongating the space between you and him, making it seem as though it’s not just physical distance that separates you now, but something deeper, something irrevocably changed by the shadows of the past that loom over both your futures. Securing Večer’s lead to the saddle horn, you urge Odliv into a trot, feeling the steady rhythm beneath you as your mind races with the implications of your conversation.

Hosea readies himself by pivoting Silver Dollar to face the path that leads out of Shady Belle. “Ready?” he asks.

You simply nod, and he takes the lead. You follow close behind as the shade of the trees darkens your surroundings and the rhythm of the horse hooves on the soft ground match the beating of your heart.

It isn’t until you are a good distance away from camp that Hosea speaks. “I see you were trying to convince Lenny to leave.”

“Is that what you think I was doing?”

“I know you well enough, Kitka, and I can read lips.”

You feel a rush of worry flood your stomach. Could that mean others can, too? “Oh.”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles. “your secret’s safe with me. But I’m curious, what made you decide now was the right time to talk to Lenny?”

You take a deep breath, feeling the air cool in your lungs as the shadows grow longer with the setting sun. “I didn’t. I was talking to him and a memory came to me.”

“Oh?”

“Ano, about Jenny…” You look down for a moment, taking your eyes away from the road. “Were she and I close?”

Hosea looks up for a moment, as though trying to gather his thoughts. “She hadn’t been with us for very long, but I think you had a nice friendship.”

“She wasn’t a habitual liar, was she? As in con-work?”

Hosea shakes his head. “No. She just preferred to work away from the spotlight. She was a pickpocket.”

You’re relieved. Not that you’d think she would lie about something that dealt with Micah, but you aren’t sure how much she’d embellish to keep herself safe. “She told me something before...before everything happened. About Micah.”

Hosea’s eyebrows knit together in a frown as you continue to ride, his old eyes troubled under the brim of his hat. “I can take a good guess as to what it entailed.”

You nod your head. “I told Lenny not to trust him. It seemed to shake him, or rather, remind him of who to trust.”

The trail dips and winds, leading you toward some railroad tracks that mark the beginning of civilization. You aren’t too far from Saint Denis.

You can’t help but glance back to make sure no one followed you from camp. Silver Dollar keeps a steady pace beside you, his sleek, grey coat shimmering in the sun.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I had you bring your shire,” Hosea says suddenly, changing the subject.

You nod softly, while accurate, it wasn’t at the forefront of your thoughts. “I figured you had a plan with her.”

“That I do,” Hosea grins. “I found a small wagon. Perfect size for her to pull.”

“Wagon?”

“Yes. You’re going to need one to carry your things and to help you start out. Every family needs a wagon.”

You feel yourself tense at those words. You hate how he speaks about all this as though he shares no part in your family. He’s the closest to a father since your own father died, and you can’t imagine not doing everything in your ability to include him in all these plans. You know what John said last night, but you don’t care. You want Hosea to change his mind.

You swallow thickly. “Hosea?”

He looks away from the road towards you as you cross the bridge into Saint Denis. “Yes, Kit?”

“Arthur and I want you to come with us.”

You see a shift in his face. A bittersweetness.

He lets out a long breath, his gaze drifting off toward the landscape of smoke, bustle, and concrete. "Kitka, I..." Hosea's voice trails off, and he merely shakes his head. “I appreciate the thought, but—”

"You don't have to worry about the gang," you interject quickly. “They aren’t your responsibility. No doubt you’ve tried. If anyone has tried the hardest to help everyone it is you.”

But Hosea continues to shake his head. “I’m old, Kitka. This plan wasn’t meant for an old man to keep up with it.”

It is then that it never occurred to you that Hosea may have had plans of his all along. There were signs, but you hadn’t really considered them until now. “You don’t plan to survive this, do you?”

His smile is thin, more melancholy than joyful. "Survival... that's a relative term in our line of work, isn't it? I've been at this far longer than most. And I've seen enough endings to know how these stories typically close." His eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of regret and resignation. "I want more for you and Arthur, Kitka. More than this life can ever offer." He pauses. “And that’s good enough for me.”

Your heart clenches at his words, the weight of reality settling like a shroud over your shoulders. You've seen it too, the way things end for people like yourselves, but hearing it from Hosea only makes it worse. “I won’t let our escape be the cause of your fate, Hosea. This plan will work.” You feel your voice begin to quiver. You’ve never cried this much in your life. “It has to.”

Hosea rolls his shoulders. “We can do our part, and that is all, Kitka. What matters is for those who want to be free will the take the chance and run.”

“Don’t you want to be free?”

Hosea doesn’t meet your eyes, looking ahead as you both ride towards the train station. You remember when you and Arthur saw Mary off and how you felt then. You felt confident, assured, but also sad. You felt sad for Mary, that she was a widow and that her future was uncertain.

You hope in these last couple of weeks, that she is doing well.

“I was free, once,” he says with melancholy. “I didn’t know it at the time…” Then he looks down. “That was a hard lesson to learn.”

“But that can still happen for you,” you insist. “If you’d let it.”

He shakes his head. “You can’t persuade me, Kitka. Not like you can everyone else.”

Your lips form a flat line, the urge to keep pushing him still as strong as ever.

But John was right. You need to respect his decision. You can’t make him leave just as much as you can’t make him do anything he won’t let you persuade him to do.

His smile returns, though it does feel forced. “Come on, let me show you where our distraction will be, then we will set up your getaway wagon.”

Not willing to argue, you nod, and let Hosea lead the way.

***

Hosea showed you the old warehouse, which is several blocks away from the National Lemoyne Bank. It is the perfect distance to create such a distraction while also being close enough for you to reach the parked wagon. You will leave Večer at the stables, retrieving her just before you and Hosea will go to the warehouse. You will ignite the dynamite, escaping just in time for it all to detonate, and you will take Odliv and Večer to the wagon. You will hitch Večer to it and there Arthur will meet you and you both will escape to Copperhead Landing, where Abigail and Jack will already be waiting. Hopefully John will beat you there, but either way, you won’t leave without anyone.

Hosea didn’t want to spend too much time in Saint Denis, given the press for time and not wanting to give into suspicion. There is no doubt of the poison in camp, so there’s no sense in making things worse.

When you and Hosea returned to camp, he encouraged you to resume things as normal. Don’t pack until night, and only bring what you could fit in a saddle bag. Thankfully, you don’t have much, and that is a task that you can manage.

So, being the afternoon, it is camp chores with you.

Susan, being more grouchy than usual, has you on mending duty. You don’t mind, as it gives you the chance to reclaim your embroidering skills, which seem to slowly be coming back.

You’re mending one of Sadie’s pairs of pants, a large tear at the knee. You can’t remember seeing her do anything that would create such a tear, but then again, Sadie has a daring air about her. You focus on your stitches, each one a small victory in precision and creativity, much like the deftness needed for handling explosives or keeping balance in the middle of a tightrope walk.

Your fingers seem to remember more than your mind does sometimes, but you aren’t the expert on how that all works.

“Sorry you have to do that.”

You look up and meet Sadie’s brown eyes, a shadow cast over them from the brim of her hat. “Why are you sorry?” you shrug.

She points to the pants. “Those are mine, ain’t they?”

You look back down at your work, the gaping hole halfway stitched. “Yes, but you don’t hold the monopoly on damaged clothing, Sadie.”

She snorts, bringing a fresh, unlit cigarette to her lips, and pulls out a match. “You have a point there, Ms. Petrova.”

Miss. You aren’t a miss anymore, but you aren’t about to correct her. You look back down to continue your mending as you hear the flick of a match and the soft puffing from her mouth as she inhales. “You ready for this robbery?”

“They ain’t lettin’ me go.”

You look back up at her. This is surprising. “Why not?”

She almost looks agitated, as though the mere thought of it is enough to get her to start shooting something. “Dutch says I’m better suited protectin’ those who are stayin’ at camp.”

Well, considering those who are staying, you have to agree with Dutch on this one. While there is a need to have as many able-bodied persons for the robbery, that leaves a huge vulnerability for those who are at camp. There’s always someone on guard duty, and that need doesn’t change just because a robbery is to take place.

You nod your head. “You do hold your own, that much is clear.”

But your words don’t appear to help soothe her, as there is a sharpness to her breath as she blows the smoke away from you. “If Charles were back, they’d let him go.”

“What’s that got to do with you?”

She shrugs. “He can hold his own guardin’ camp, too.”

You study her for a minute. She had lived a normal life before all this. You wonder what she was like before tragedy befell her. Undoubtedly she was just as strong and wiry, but she had a pure spirit then. Now it is tainted by something else, a hardness that you’ve seen grow larger and larger.

But you know, deep down, she has a heart of gold.

“Sadie…?” you ask, clearing your throat. “Maybe you don’t want to guard camp, but perhaps you wouldn’t mind doing a favor for me?”

She looks down at you, her head remaining still. “What’s that?”

“I want you to turn a blind eye…” you look around before speaking. “In case things go wrong and others…” you don’t know if you can say it. You have to say just enough for her to understand. “If others want to find safety somewhere else.”

Her eyes narrow at you, and you feel instant regret. “Somewhere else?”

You nod. “Yes.”

Sadie takes a long, thoughtful drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling around her in the dim light. Her gaze pierces through you, searching for the truth in your words. "You talkin' about runnin'?" she asks, her voice low and even.

The question hangs heavy between you both. You can’t speak of it. Not in camp. “I’m only saying that if things go wrong, most likely we will all have to leave here.” Then you roll your shoulders, tilting your head as you say, “And…some might get willingly lost when that happens.”

Sadie's lips press into a thin line, her eyes still narrowed as she assesses you. There's a sharpness there, one honed by years of hard work, but beneath it, there’s a glimmer of understanding—perhaps even agreement. She exhales slowly, the smoke mingling with the humid air, veiling her expression for a moment.

“I ain't one to turn my back on those in need, Kit,” she finally says, her voice softer now, touched by the sincerity of her conviction. “And if it comes to that, I suppose…I can look the other way. For you.” She taps the ash from the cigarette on the end of her finger, letting the ashes fall to the ground. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“When we meet up again…” she starts, her voice growing melancholy for a moment. “You help me kill some of them O’Driscolls.”

Remembering what they’d done to Annabelle, you feel a heat in your belly, more than you had ever felt before. “You can count on it.”

And that is all that needs to be said.

***

You haven’t seen Arthur all afternoon. While you have a little bit of concern, you’re glad to avoid suspicion. To be caught whispering or sneaking off right now would be dangerous especially with Dutch's paranoia spiraling out of control. He's been watching everyone like a hawk, his distrust growing thicker with each passing day.

The sun starts to dip, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple as you make your way quietly past the tents, heading towards the fire where some are gathered around eating their stew. You still don’t see Arthur and you let out a puff of air at the frustration.

This gets Uncle’s attention and he looks over his shoulder to see you approach. “It’s warm by the fire, missy.”

You chortle. “I don’t know if I want it any warmer, Uncle, given how humid it is.”

He emits a belly laugh. “It ain’t as hot as Africa, so you best thank your lucky stars!”

You roll your eyes. While you aren’t sure if he’s really traveled to all the places he says he has, you don’t have the heart to argue with him about it. To be honest, you are going to miss his stories and his complaints about lumbago. While it has always annoyed Arthur to no end, you find it endearing, in a way. Humor is a good medicine and you don’t mind to hear his banjo picking every once and a while.

You step over the log and find a seat next to him. “You’ve ever been to Tahiti?”

Uncle snorts, spooning another mouthful of stew in his mouth. “If it’s paradise, I’d imagine it wouldn’t be so hot as to cook you alive.”

“Dutch says mangoes grow there.”

“He’s been there?” Uncle asks with a hit of an edge. “King Dutch seems to know everythin’, don’t he?”

You bite your tongue and turn away.

You regard the others that are sitting around the fire. Javier, Lenny, Karen, Strauss, and Tilly. Each one of them lost in their own thoughts, nursing their bowls with a kind of silent reverence. The flicker of the flames cast ghostly shadows across their faces, making it nearly impossible not to think about the haunting path that lay ahead for all of you.

They all can sense it. The robbery is tomorrow, and regardless of what is going to happen, each and every life here will never be the same.

You feel a sudden warmth on your back, just below your neck. Looking up and behind you, you see Arthur and his smile causes a heat to flush your cheeks. You feel as though you haven’t seen him in years, and his presence is a light against this doom and gloom that has settled like a heavy fog over the camp. He bends to bring his face close to you, his fingers going to the back of your neck discreetly under the shadow of the evening.

“ Manžel ,” you say and you can see his smile grow larger. “You’ve been getting ready for tomorrow?”

He nods. “Dutch was sharin’ the particulars with me and John.”

“All day?” you ask, your voice initially in the tone of jest but as you look at him, you see this is no time for jokes.

He nods. “Shoah felt like it.” He brings his hand away from your neck and squeezes your shoulder. “I’m ready for tomorrow. I’m gonna turn in.” He backs away. “See ya in the mornin’.”

You watch him go, feeling a mix of reassurance and dread. His confidence calms you, yet the stakes of tomorrow gnaw at your peace. The fire crackles, an ominous orchestra to these quiet moments.

Glancing around, you notice that the others are slowly dispersing, their movements sluggish, heavy with the weight of impending change.

You stay on the log for a while, watching the flames reduce to embers, the embers dying off into dark coals that smoke when the breeze kicks up just enough. You are hesitant to move, lest you be forced to sleep and wake up to the final day. The day of no return.

You exhale slowly. You better make sure you are packed. Hosea said now is the time, so that is what you are going to do.

You rise to your feet, quietly and carefully making your way over to your tent.

Inside, the canvas smells of earth and smoke, a familiar scent that often brings you comfort but tonight only deepens your unease. You start gathering your things – a few clothes, a book, and your small stash of saved money tucked away in an old sock. Each item feels heavier than usual, laden with the gravity of all that they represent – your past, your dreams, and now, possibly, your escape.

You pause for a moment, holding the dog-eared book of herbal studies. The cover is worn, the pages softened from being thumbed through over countless nights. Mr. Strauss gave it to you, saying he managed to grab it when the gang fled Blackwater. He said it was your book and he had hoped that it would help him to maintain the business of making cures. But, seeing as how that is all null, with the bank robbery promising hundreds of thousands, he felt it necessary to give it back to you.

You tuck the book into the saddle bag and now that you are all packed, you set it down by your rolled-up bed roll.

You don’t want to sleep here.

Crawling out of your tent, you peek out to see if anyone is awake. The camp is still, only the sounds of crickets and odd shouting in the distance can be heard.

You emerge from the tent. Watching your step, you walk through the camp, making your way toward the mansion.

You won’t go through the front door. You can’t risk being seen.

You go to the other side of the building. You can climb up the trellis to reach Arthur’s balcony.

Your fingers find secure holds on the weathered wood and creeping vines, the slight give under your weight a testament to the many times you've scaled similar routes before. Silence blankets the night, punctuated only by the distant sounds of an owl and the whistle of wind through leaves. Pulling yourself over the balcony railing, you crouch low, your breath steady despite the climb. The humid night air heats against your skin, carrying the scent of earth and the impending dawn.

But you aren’t finished yet. You’re on John and Abigail’s balcony. You keep crouched, easing your steps around the side of the mansion, pausing at any creak or small noise your steps make.

You turn the corner and continue walking, using your hands to feel your way until you feel the glass of Arthur’s window.

Taking a moment to ensure the coast is clear, you silently push up the window from the outside and slip inside Arthur's room.

“I was wondering how you’d find your way back in here.”

His dark voice fills the room, and though you can’t see shadow nor light, you turn your head in the direction of the sound, your memory placing him near his cot.

You smile and your eyes adjust to the grey left by the moon. “I always find a way.”

***

“I keep goin’ back there…” he swallows, his finger tracing a light circle in your shoulder. “Back to when I saw the two crosses. To when I tried to leave the first time.” You feel the reeling of his mind in that finger, each circle drawing out his doubt more and more. “Each time I’ve tried, I’ve failed. It’s like I were never meant to leave.”

You scoot away from Arthur and rise to sit up. You look at him as he lays there, body and emotion bare, patches of his skin glistening from the heat of the night. You both have shelled your clothes and now lay side by side in his cot. It is more humid than usual this time of night, making Shady Belle seem more like hell than any remaining bit of safety you’ve felt while being here. “This will be different,” you say softly, and as the words leave your mouth, your voice quivers. “It will.”

“I want it to. You know I want to.”

“Then do it. We’re leaving. We’re taking John, Abigail, and Jack with us. I tried to speak words to others, but I didn’t think Molly would be the one to go.”

“How did it work for her and not for us?”

You admit, you are jealous. Jealous that she got away and that Dutch isn’t going after her. “Dutch didn’t care enough to notice.” You reach for him and place a hand on his chest, letting your fingers twist softly some of the hair there. “Believe it or not, but everyone will notice that you’re gone.”

His eyes follow your hand, up your arm, and to your eyes. “And not you?”

You shrug. “Some might. Mary Beth and the other girls.” You blink slowly, exhaling the air you had been holding. “Dutch would be glad.”

He lifts his hand and brings it to your wrist, grazing your skin with his fingers as he moves them up and down your arm. “I wouldn’t.”

Oh, you know he wouldn’t. That’s the trouble. You’ve seen the ache and pain he exudes, even when he so desperately tries to conceal it. You don’t want him to go through all that again and while you will do everything in your power to prevent it, you are more than aware of the fickleness of control. You can’t move the sun, even if you want to.

While it has occurred to you what could go wrong during this robbery, you are more worried about him. Your husband. You don’t want him to die while still breathing.

You lick your lips after clearing your throat. You cast your eyes away from his gaze to make the words come easier. “Manžel,” you begin. “This robbery is going to be dangerous.”

“I know,” he says quietly, his hand squeezing your arm. “But I will do whatever it takes to make it work.” He brings both of his hands up your body, over your breasts to your neck, his thumbs cradling your chin. “I’ll fight for you, I’d kill for you.” He swallows. “I’d die for you.”

And those are the words that make you cry, the hot tears welling up now streaming down your cheeks. “Then live for me.”

He blinks at this and looks into your eyes with a pinched brow. “What?”

“Arthur, things could go wrong. That’s how it usually goes with us—”

“No, Kitten,” he speaks deeply. “It can’t. I won’t let it.”

Your hand pushes into his chest, searching for his heartbeat underneath, and it grounds you. You blink away at the tears. You need to remain unemotional; you need to be focused. “Arthur, listen to me. We have to think about this. Hosea and I will be blowing up an old building, but—”

“Then don’t do it. We can have Bill go.”

You shake your head. “No, Arthur. I’m doing this. This is my choice! Me being there with Hosea is part of the plan, you know that.” You lift your hand to caress his cheek, the stubble prickling your fingers. “You have to trust me.”

He searches your face as though you were the only thing he could dream of looking at. “I do, but you can’t expect me to just…just…go on without’chu.”

“You can. I can’t bear to have you go through all of that again. Mary, Eliza, Isaac. I’m not going to be added to the list of people that made you bitter and broken. I’m not.”

“That ain’t fair, Kitka.”

“What isn’t fair is living your life as though you were a ghost, Arthur. Whether we make it through this or not, you will be free.” And you feel the tears streaming down again as you blink slowly. “And so will I.”

“I don’t like what’chu mean by that…” he says, his voice quaking at the end of his sentence.

You bend down long enough to find his lips and kiss him tenderly before coming back up again. “You know it’s true, Arthur. Remember, we made it eternal. Either in life, or death, we will be free. Together.”

Arthur's eyes, those deep pools of marine blue, are stormy now, swirling with an emotion that he tries to mask with a hard-set jaw. "Free," he repeats, the word heavy between the two of you. "Ain't never really felt that before."

You remember what Hosea told you. How he had it once, and in that moment, it hadn’t really occurred to you as to what he meant.

He meant Bessie. Is that what freedom really is? You don’t want to question it now, given the time you have left, but even if it were so, you can’t stay here. It isn’t safe anymore.

However, you can entertain the thought that even if you don’t make it to Oregon, and end up living your days in a shack in the middle of the desert instead, you won’t care.

You look into Arthur’s eyes, sinking into the ocean depths. "Neither have I," you admit, your voice a tremble in the aching emotion that surges throughout your body. Your hands on his skin, you maneuver to straddle yourself on top of him, and his hands hover over you, letting you move where you please. After settling comfortably, you begin to rock your hips back and forth, letting the contact of your skin create friction between you. “But I can only imagine how it’s going to be…”

You hear him swallow. “Kit…don’t if you’re still…”

“Shhh…” you say softly, your body easing into a steady motion as you increase the heat against him. “I w-want to know…what freedom looks like…” Your voice hitches as pleasure reawakens within you, your body’s natural response already making you willing for what’s to come. “I think we can…get pretty c-close… ”

The room around you darkens, clouds covering the moon for a moment. The world outside could be falling to pieces, but right now, in this small space, it's just the two of you holding onto a thin strand of hope amidst a sea of turmoil. As you continue to move, his body reacts to your coaxing, the temperature rising in his skin.

Arthur’s hands finally grab you at your waist, his breath growing ragged, his grip begging you to end his agony. So, with a gentle lift and settle, you let your bodies sync together. “You c-can’t…see it,” he breathes, hardly forming words as he sinks into you.

You let your head fall back, closing your eyes. “Then how does it feel, Manžel?” you ask, your thighs contracting as you change direction from front and back to up and down. “Tell me.”

His response is a groan, low and guttural, as if the sensation itself had pulled the sound from his depths. Arthur's fingers tighten around your waist, anchoring you when you return to him, his eyes momentarily closing as he tries to gather his scattered thoughts amidst the overwhelming tide of sensations coursing through him. “Like you…” he finally murmurs.

Your heart thumps against your chest, matching the rhythm of your movements. The intensity between you builds and you find yourself unable to speak anymore, your staggered breaths mingling with his the only sign of life in the room. For a little while longer, you feel only your connection, as close to tangible freedom as either of you has ever been.

And as any last-minute cognition dissipates, your final thought is that you hope this won’t be just a memory.

Thanks for reading!

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