#this deal of ours: cohabitation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dailynnt · 11 days ago

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FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

Summary: What happens when two best friends try to get along under the same roof? You've been living with Jungkook for three months now, but your cohabitation is still a challenge for you. He continues to live like a real bachelor without following the rules you agreed upon from the beginning of your decision to live together. Should you find a compromise or should you find a new place to live?

Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hosuk.

🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

📕 Number of part: 15/?

🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words. Tags will be added as the story is written.

👩🏼‍💻 From the author: Almost the Christmas part. There's a lot going on here, and you'll also see Jungkook in action in the mafia stuff. What do you think about it? Did I do a good job with his character? 🥺 An amazing trip to Japan becomes a turning point. Thank you very much to everyone who reads 💜

🫂Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You know that I appreciate you very much and love you🥰💜

⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

📋Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 12: Christmas trip to Niseko.

𓏧 POV Jungkook 𓏧

Jungkook was sitting in a spacious office with panoramic windows that overlooked Seoul at night. The office of some kind of food company. A pretty good-looking one, judging by the look of the place.

Thick cigarette smoke was gathering under the ceiling, and in front of him, at a massive desk, sat a client of their services.

The man in the expensive suit was constantly adjusting his tie, trying not to make eye contact with Jungkook. Jungkook didn't want to be here, and he had no desire to extort money from this miserable man. But that was his job. He was sitting in the man's office and acting like he owner the place.

"We had a deal!" - Jungkook said, slowly shifting a heavy black metal fist in his hands, a symbol that no refusal would be accepted. His voice sounded indifferent, but with a hint of threat. "You put your money on our fighter, we make sure he wins, and you pay the agreed upon share."

"I... I understand..." - The man began, wiping sweat from his forehead. "But my business is going through a tough time. I just need a little more time..."

Jungkook leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and his voice became even quieter, but no less menacing.

"Your 'hard times' are not our concern. Namjoon has entrusted me with this matter, and I will not leave this office until I get what is due."

The man tried to look calm, but his fingers were trembling. He hesitated for a few more seconds and then walked over to the safe in his office. It was hidden behind a painting on the wall and he took out the wads of bills.

"Everything should be here. I didn't want to delay you... It just happened that..." - The man brought the money to the table and put it down carefully.

Jungkook took the money, counting it carefully before tossing the envelope on the table next to the couch where Jimin was sitting. He silently collected it and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Jimin then took out the letter of commitment and tore it up in front of the man, who was pale with fear.

"Honesty is what keeps Namjoon's business afloat." - Jungkook said as he stood up. "Remember that the next time you want to delay a payment."

Jungkook and Jimin got into a black Mercedes Gelentwagen and pulled out of the parking lot. Their car was followed by a similar black Mercedes Viano. Jungkook drove the car, while Jimin checked his phone.

"How annoying are these assholes." - Jimin broke the silence. Jungkook listened attentively, but he was thinking about his own. "It was only 100 million won, and it took so much time." - Jimin complained.

"Yoongi asked us to do it, otherwise Namjoon would have been angry. You know he likes when to pay on time. Besides, I told you I could go by myself." - Jungkook explained why it was necessary.

"Whatever. I just wanted to walk my ass. It's been a long time since I've done this kind of work." - Jimin said and smiled.

"Then why are you complaining?" - Jungkook asked.

"I'm annoyed by these worthless bastards who still think they can bargain with us." - Jungkook nodded his head in agreement.

"What about the devices? Did you find out what happened to them? Why were they all corrupted?" - Jungkook asked, ending the previous conversation.

"Yes, I found out." - Jimin says slowly while texting someone. Jungkook waits patiently for a reply as he glances over at Jimin. He finishes and locks his phone. He gets comfortable in the seat and speaks. "Doohoon switched the devices when the shipment left Japan. He also forged the documents, so their logistics company was listed. It was stupid, to be honest. He should have just done it through a left-wing small company. But we would have known it was him anyway. With the help of the subsidiary, I figured it out in two minutes."

"I see. Do you know where the working devices are?" - Jungkook asked after listening to Jimin.

"I know. Niseko is on the island of Hokkaido." - He replied. Jungkook was a quick think. He could organize a trip there under the guise of some business with his Japanese partners. Pick up the devices and try to sell them again. And he'd deal with Doohoon as soon as he was done with this case.

"Listen, Jimin." - Jungkook wanted to share his thoughts. "What if I fly to Japan and return these devices and try to sell them? By myself." - Jimin smiles at Jungkook's idea.

"Are you ready to organize all this shit and fly to Japan?" - Jimin asks.

"You got any better ideas? If Namjoon finds out that Doohoon did this, everyone will get hurt. And me the most. I don't want to add another 50 million dollars to my debt." - Jungkook argues. Jimin agreed with Jungkook's statement.

"You're in luck, my dear friend." - Jimin suddenly says. Jungkook tries to understand what his words mean. "Yoongi came to visit yesterday. He told me that Doohoon's father is negotiating with our partners in Japan. He wants them to directly cover the transportation without us. In return, he's offering them a special deal - to transport their goods all over Asia for next to nothing." - Jungkook raises his eyebrows. Like father and like son. Why are they such a pain in the ass?

"Does Namjoon know?" - Jungkook asks.

"Yes. That's why Yoongi is asking me and Taehyung to go to Japan to check this information and meet with Kazuhiro Yamada. I can take you with me so you can do some work with the devices. You can also help us with the negotiations. The more you work on company business, the more you'll be in the boss’s good graces. Besides, it's Christmas next week, so we'll celebrate it by going skiing." - Jimin suggested.

Jungkook is really lucky. This business with the Japanese mafia member has come at the perfect time. He needs to use it to avoid the disaster that awaits him.

He's going to fly to Japan and he's worried that it might take a long time. Maybe 5 days or even a whole week. He can't leave you without him for that long.

He might try to put a guard around you, but you might react aggressively to that. Probably, he should be sent you to your parents for Christmas, but he's not sure if it will be safe either. There, Doohoon will be able to pursue you even more brazenly than here. He will try to gain your parents' trust by referring to school friendships. In addition, he can present himself to your parents as a cool heir to a large company, and then they will definitely lose their vigilance. Under no circumstances should you be left alone.

"Jimin-hyun." - Jungkook calls out. "You do realize that I can't leave Y/N alone in Seoul, given Doohoon’s sick antics. I have to take her with me." - Jimin thought seriously about Jungkook's words.

"Jungkook, it's risky. We won't be alone, and the cause we're traveling for is serious. I don't think Y/N will be safe there with us. Should we put a guard around her? I can order my brother to follow her." - Jungkook presses his lips together. He nervously plays with his lip piercing. No, that's not an option. He'll worry too much. If Doohoon finds out that Jungkook isn't around, he'll act. Jungkook doesn't like him being quiet and deceptively calm as it is.

"No. I’m taking she with. We'll pretend it's a Christmas trip to a ski resort. I'll be calm if she's in front of my eyes." - Jungkook stood his ground. Jimin quickly gave up. He knows Jungkook, if he's worried about something, he'll do it his way.

"Good. Then Y/N will come with us. She'll be happy, I think." - Jimin thought. "Want to sleep in the same room with her to make sure Doohoon isn't stalking her?" - He joked. Jimin looked up from the road and noticed Jungkook's sly smile.

"Good idea, Hyung. I couldn't think of a way to sleep in the same bed with her." - Jungkook replied sarcastically. Jimin laughed.

"Dude, this is a good opportunity to fuck her with romance and not just at home on the couch." - Jimin suggested. His voice is too cheerful.

"I'll think about it." - Jungkook only says.

"Go ahead and admit it to your best friend and favorite, Hyung. You're fucking her." - Jimin tries to find out the truth for the umpteenth time. He doesn't believe in Jungkook's excuses. The way he protects and cares for you speaks for itself.

"Why are you so interested in this? I don't care who you're fucking." - Jungkook replies.

"You live together and look like a couple. You should get together. She's a good girlfriend for you." - Jimin assures.

"A good girlfriend for me..." - Jungkook repeats his friend's words quietly. "But I'm a bad boyfriend for her." - He says with bitterness in his voice.

"She wouldn't turn her back on you if she knew who you really are. That's why I say you're perfect for each other. I've known her for a short time, though. I have a talent for reading people." - Jimin reassures Jungkook. He doesn't answer and continues to drive, heading to “Mono Corp”.

𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧𓏧

You are blinded by the daylight, which is enhanced by the abundance of snow around you. The frosty air of Niseko greeted you with a sharp gust of wind that made you wrap yourself even tighter in your down jacket. Even the warm scarf wrapped around your head couldn't protect you from the small snowflakes flying into your face.

The snow-covered mountain slopes sparkled around him, and the Art Nouveau buildings blended harmoniously into the winter landscape.

Jungkook confidently stepped to the black minivan, shaking the snow off his heavy boots. His gaze slid across the parking lot in nearly airport, where expensive cars were parked. The other guys followed him out: Jimin was adjusting his hat with a slight smile, Taehyung was holding his camera, taking pictures of the beauty around him, and Hoseok and Jin were having a fun argument about whether they would go skiing or save it for tomorrow.

You remember Jungkook coming home earlier than usual two days ago. He asked you about your plans for Christmas. You suggested that he go to Suwon. But he made you a better offer. Jimin wanted to go to a ski resort in Japan. So he suggested it to Jungkook and a few friends. Jungkook said he would go, but only if you went with them.

You'll be a little confused. Celebrating Christmas in Japan is very cool. But why is Jungkook so insistent that you go? That's suspicious. Maybe he's nervous about Doohoon again? Anyway, Jungkook carefully left you with no choice. So this year, instead of Suwon, you'll be celebrating Christmas in Niseko.

You've never seen anything like it before. Niseko looked like a postcard: a small town with narrow, snow-covered streets that resembled a fairy-tale maze.

The air was piercingly clean and fresh, making every breath seem cold and new. Here and there, neat houses with roofs that bent under the weight of the snow stood on the roadsides, and wooden signs in Japanese added charm to the local flavor.

The city center had a special atmosphere: the noise of coffee shops, the smell of hot chocolate and ginger, and the laughter of tourists and skiers returning from the slopes with red cheeks and shining eyes. Small shops with oriental souvenirs, red lanterns swaying in the wind, and soft light from the lamps created a warm, cozy aura in the middle of a snowstorm.

When you all arrived at the hotel, you felt heart sink. A tall wooden building stylized in traditional Japanese design, but with elements of modern design. The sleek dark glass facade that reflected the surrounding mountains and neon accents created the impression of an ultra-modern building that stood aloof in the snowy landscape. Large panoramic windows offered a view of the snow-capped mountains, which seemed so close that you could touch them with your hand.

Expensive SUVs were parked at the entrance, under a wide canopy, and hotel staff in matching black coats were helping guests with their luggage.

"Not bad." - You muttered, gazing at the luxury that seemed a little cold, but alluring.

The guys left the minivan and you set off to checking into the rooms. It had been a long journey and you were tired.

Inside, the atmosphere was completely different. The hotel greeted you with warm light and high-tech style, combining metal structures, mirrored ceilings and soft furniture in muted colors.

In the center of the lobby was a huge installation in the form of a waterfall - water flowed smoothly over the glass, creating a quiet, soothing noise. The walls were covered with large LED panels with animated landscapes - either starry skies or snow-capped peaks that looked almost real.

You turned your head in different directions, looking around and admiring every detail. This hotel is so luxurious, you didn't expect to live there during holidays. A night here must cost a fortune.

But you were even more embarrassed when you were escorted to the floor where it turned out that only the six of you would be staying.

You were taken up to the VIP floor, where there were three presidential suites. It seemed to be a completely closed floor only for very important guests. You were wildly uncomfortable with this luxury.

You were put in the apartment with Jungkook. Taehyung wanted to suggest that you stay with him, but when he saw Jungkook and Jimin's angry looks, he agreed that you would be more comfortable with your best friend.

The lux apartment was big. It was twice as big as Jungkook's apartment. The interior was minimalist but expensive: gray walls, black furniture with metal elements. There were two separate bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large living room, a sort of dining room that smoothly transitioned into a living room, an office, and a dressing room. On the wall, like in the lobby, there was a screen with landscapes that changed depending on the settings.

You walked around these rooms and didn't understand why everyone decided to live here.

Jungkook met you in the living room in a confused state. He brought in your luggage and came closer. He put his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. Finally, you were alone with no prying eyes.

Your mind was a little foggy. Jungkook's lips and tongue distracted you from the pressing questions that were swarming in your head like bees in a hive.

When you had enjoyed the kiss enough, you decided to ask.

"Kook... this place so expensive. We could have checked into a regular hotel." - You said.

"Why, you don't like it here?" - Jungkook was surprised.

"No. I really like it here. It just seems too expensive. It feels like we're accompanying the president." - You joked.

"It's not the most expensive hotel here. But it's Jimin and Hoseok's favorite place to stay. They vacation here every year." - Jungkook was almost lying. They don't vacation here every year, but they come every time they meet with their Japanese partners. "Don't worry about the money. Just relax." - Jungkook reassures you. You smile and relax. You have to ask Jimin where he gets the money for such a vacation every year.

Jungkook let you go and went to the things that were already in the room. You decided to go to the window. The view was so breathtaking that you could hardly contain your excitement when you saw the snow-covered slopes and the illuminated streets of Niseko shining in the evening light. The huge panoramic window offered a view of the main mountain of the town, whose peak was hidden in the clouds.

But there was something that made you absolutely delighted. It was the jacuzzi on your floor. It was not just a jacuzzi, but a real mini-pool with warm steaming water surrounded by black tiles. It took up almost half of the terrace, and it offered a fantastic view of the mountains, snow-covered forests, and distant ski slopes illuminated by night lights. When you were looking at it with Jungkook, Jimin and Jin, you realized that you couldn’t swim in it. You didn't know there would be a Jacuzzi, so you didn't bring a bathing suit.

"Kook..." - You grabbed Jungkook when he was a little in front of you. Jimin and Jin were looking around the bar behind you.

"What's wrong baby?" - Jungkook turned his head.

"You didn't tell me there was going to be a jacuzzi and I didn't know. I didn't bring my bathing suit." - You said disappointedly looking at the water.

"I'm going to go to the centre city now. Jimin asked me to go with him on business. I'll buy you one, it's no problem." - Jungkook reassured you. You were instantly happy.

"Really? Why didn't I think of that?" - You complained. "Maybe I'll go with you and choose for myself..." - You suggested, but Jungkook interrupted you.

"No. I'm sorry, baby, but we're going to be gone for a long time. We'll be back in the evening..." - You trailed off. "You better get some rest from the road, and we'll all go to a restaurant in the evening. Just tell me what color the swimsuit should be, or better yet, send me a picture." - Jungkook says and leaves without waiting for an answer. You look at him. Did he come here to work or to rest? Is he hiding something again?

"How long will you be gone?" - You ask, throwing it at his back.

"Until the evening, probably. Are you hungry?" - Jungkook suddenly stops and turns to you.

"No." - You reply shortly.

"If you want, order room service. Don't be sad, we'll be back soon." - Jungkook throws in a final word and the three of them leave the terrace, leaving you alone.

***

You spent most of the day in your room. You tried to sleep from the road, but it didn't work. You called your parents and you talked about the road and you told them that Jungkook had brought you to a nice hotel.

After you talked to your parents, Taehyung and Hoseok came to visit you. You together talked a little about the resort. Hoseok told you that the food here is great and there are many interesting things to do. You were interested in talking to Hoseok. He was nice and smiling all the time.

You were introduced to Hoseok and Jin at the airport when you arrived with Jungkook. Hoseok and Jin are older than Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. All three of them were polite and respectful talks to their oldest.

Although if you looked at Jin, who was the oldest in your group, you had the feeling that he was the youngest. He was constantly making strange but very funny jokes, and Hosok was bursting out laughing every time. You could see that all the guys were very warm with each other and you could even feel they’re like a family.

You were introduced as Jungkook's best friend. Taehyung wanted to make a joke about you and your relationship, that it was on the verge of being serious, but he got a punch in the ribs from Jimin and fell silent.

It was interesting for you to meet new people, especially Jungkook's friends, who turned out to be a lot. And it seems they are not just friends. They were his close friends. Were they all connected by work, or did Jungkook know some of them much earlier? You wanted to know absolutely everything.

When the sun began to set outside, you realized that the room was very boring. Taehyung and Hoseok left, and you spent the rest of the evening watching TV. But it was still very boring. You decided that you would take a walk around the hotel, maybe find something interesting to do until Jungkook and Jimin came back.

Just as you were about to leave the room and headed for the front door, Jungkook walked into the apartment. He was looking at you in surprise, realizing that you were going somewhere. He was holding a black bag with a Mitsukoshi emblem on it, and another black bag which he threw it over his shoulder.

"Going somewhere?" - Jungkook asked as he approached you.

"I wanted to go for a walk." - You said. Jungkook stopped one step away. "You're back sooner than I expected." - You smiled. You were glad that he had already arrived.

"I bought a swimsuit for you." - Jungkook says and hands you a black bag. You mentioned that you didn't send him a photo, which means he bought it to his taste. I wonder what it looks like. Your smile grows even wider and you eagerly take the package in your hands. You walk over to the couch and sit down. You pull out the swimsuit and look at it.

It is a black two-piece swimsuit with an asymmetrical design. The top has one wide strap on one shoulder. There is also an additional horizontal stripe below the chest line. The lower part of the swimsuit is a high-waisted thong that emphasizes the waist.

This swimsuit looks very sexy. You look over at Jungkook, who smiles smugly.

"When you picked out this swimsuit for me, you must have forgotten that we're not alone. Will you be okay with me showing my ass to all the guys?" - You asked ironically.

"Who says they'll all be there when you're in a bathing suit?" - Jungkook asked you. You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"You're not going to ban them from the terrace. What if they want to take a Jacuzzi at the same time as me?" - You argued.

"Then let them look at you. I don't mind. You don't have to wear a burka just because of me." - Jungkook replied. You smiled. Well, if Jungkook doesn't mind, that's fine. But you know one hundred percent that he will be jealous of you.

He could have bought you a less revealing swimsuit, but if you already have this one, you don't have to worry. You didn't really want to swim with everyone else, but if it happens, it looks like you'll be in the water until everyone else leaves.

"And you won't be jealous of me?" - You ask, hugging Jungkook's neck. He wraps his arms around your waist and smiles a centimeter from your face.

"I think I'm going to die of jealousy." - Jungkook confesses. You laugh.

"You chose this, so it's your fault." - You say. Jungkook can't stand so close to you without kissing you. So in a moment, your smile disappears under your friend's lips. You feel his tongue, his sweet lips, and moan softly at the sensations.

"Let's go to the jacuzzi. I want to see that swimsuit on you." - Jungkook suggests, pulling away from your lips.

"But the guys are here. We can't go alone." - You warn.

"They're not here. They're gone on business." - Jungkook reassures you.

"Business? Did you come here to work or to rest?" - You said with a bit of dissatisfaction.

"They went to buy equipment for tomorrow's descent from the mountains. I met Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jin in the parking lot when I arrived." - Jungkook explained.

"And Jimin? Did you come without him?" - You ask. Jungkook smiles. You are so inquisitive.

"He met his friend at the mall and went for coffee. I didn't want to sit with them, so I came to you." - Jungkook answered your question. You were happy to have all the answers.

"So can we sit in the jacuzzi together?" - You asked.

"Yes. We have time until they all come back. Go get dressed, I'll change too and I'll wait for you there." - Jungkook says and lets you go.

You go to the terrace, which contains a huge jacuzzi, more like a swimming pool. The light is low, and the sun is setting outside. It paints the tops of mountains and houses red and it's a magical sight.

Jungkook is sitting in the water. His hair is wet and drops of water are running down his face. It looks like he's been taking a dip. Steam is coming out of the tub, and the terrace itself is stuffy. You can feel the steam enveloping your body as soon as you get inside.

Jungkook watches you as you approach. You take off your robe and find yourself wearing only a swimsuit. It fits you perfectly, emphasizing your lush and appetizing forms.

Jungkook looks at you greedily, biting his lip. He bites his piercing to quench the desire he has for you in your swimsuit.

You enter the water, feeling how hot it is. It instantly gives you goosebumps.

When you are completely in the water, you close your eyes. The hot water relaxes your body and you feel that all the tiredness that you had somewhere disappears. You open your eyes and meet Jungkook's attentive gaze. This lasts for a while and then he swims towards you. The sun is hiding behind him and you are impressed by this picture.

Jungkook swims up and captures you in his arms.

"Jungkook!" - You protest. "What if someone comes in..." - You warn, but you don't finish your sentence because Jungkook is already kissing you. You feel his strong body pressed against you in the water. You wrap your legs around his waist and kiss him back. You have an uneasy feeling. Anyone can come to the terrace and see you kissing. Jungkook grabs your tongue and sucks on it. You press closer to his body and feel his hands on your buttocks. He squeezes them, but the pressure is not great because of the water.

You pull away first, because the fear of being caught red-handed is stronger than your desire.

"I want to fuck you." - Jungkook says. You smile. Of course you want to, but not here.

"I want you too. But we're not going to have sex here." - You say.

"Then let's go to the bathhouse." - He suggests. This option is more attractive. You look at his handsome face and you are already burning to do it.

"Let's wait until the evening and do it in bed." - You suggest. But Jungkook doesn't hear you. He grabs your hand and leads you away from the water. You run after them, protesting.

Your body is steaming, red from the hot water. Jungkook's body is as hot as yours. He is wearing a pair of swimming trunks. He drags you into the bathhouse, which is quite large, and immediately closes the door and pounces on you with kisses. You respond with no less passion.

Jungkook's hand squeezes your buttocks hard. You feel yourself getting wet. Jungkook is pressing down on you with his whole body. His cock is pressing against your pussy and you want him to fuck you.

Jungkook breaks the kiss to go down on your neck. He kisses you carefully so as not to leave any marks. His hand simultaneously hooks the strap of your swimsuit top and lowers it around your waist. Your breasts are exposed, and Jungkook hurries to pay them proper attention.

You don't stand idle either. While he's busy kissing your nipples, you slide your hand into his trunks and find his length. You feel his glans and caress it with your finger. You feel the lubricant leaking from the end on your fingers and his cock twitches. You pull his swim trunks off, leaving them just above his knees, and pump your hand up his aroused length.

Jungkook feels your hand and stops kissing your breasts. He leans his head against your shoulder with a guttural moan and steals his hand somewhere near your head to enjoy your handiwork.

You pump his cock with quick strokes and feel its length harden with each movement. In the moment, you let go of his cock and touch his balls with your fingers, stroking them lightly. He hisses somewhere near your ear. You smile and turn your head to him and whisper in his ear.

"Let me suck your cock." - Your voice is seductive, gentle. Jungkook looks up at you with a blurred gaze and smiles defiantly. It means he's agree.

You sit down on a bench in the bathhouse. It's not high, and it's just perfect for Jungkook to stand comfortably in front of your face. You salivate at the sight of his swollen, erect cock. It's right in front of your mouth as Jungkook takes off his boxers and spreads his legs to make it comfortable for him to stand.

You lick your lips to get them wet and take Jungkook's length in your hands. He stops you for a second and leans in to kiss you one last time before you start blowjob. He kisses only your lips and then runs his tongue along your lower lip. Then he lets go and you get to work.

First, you lick the salty pre-cum that drips from the end of his cock. You take only the head into your mouth and pump your head a few times. Jungkook moans somewhere above your head. He is enjoying your warm, friendly mouth. He holds the back of your head with his hand and looks down at your lips, which perfectly envelop his cock.

Then you plunge his length deeper into your mouth and move your head back and forth. Saliva collects in your mouth and runs down your chin and out the corner of your mouth. You breathe deeply through your nose and try to take Jungkook's cock further into your mouth. He moans from above and the low bass makes you leak onto your trunks.

Jungkook grabs your hair and, like the first time, tilts your head to slide down his cock better. He's getting hard, and you can feel it with your tongue. But your jaw already hurts. Jungkook's cock is so big that you have to open your mouth wide, and your jaw gets tired and starts to hurt.

You think you can hold out until Jungkook comes, but he has other plans for you. He takes you off his cock, holding you by your hair. You look at him with innocent eyes, trying to understand what he wants.

"You suck my cock so well, baby. But I want to have your little pussy." - He says. You wipe away the saliva that has stained your face. Jungkook sits down next to you and takes your hand.

He makes you stand up and picks you up and puts you between his legs. He takes off your swim trunks and touches your labia with his hands. He swears at your excessive wetness. He puts his fingers in your entrance with one hand. With the other, he caresses your swollen clit.

You grab Jungkook's shoulders and try to stand on your feet. You moan with pleasure and Jungkook's skillful movements.

"Come on, baby, sit on my cock." - Jungkook invites you in a friendly manner. You don't have a condom and it might be risky. Jungkook must be reading your mind and is quick to reassure you. "I'll get you off in time." - Your friend assures you.

You agree and spread your legs to sit on top of him.

Jungkook holds his cock in his hands and guides it toward your entrance.

"Remember to be careful. Take your time and go slowly." - Jungkook says, tilting his head back to look at your face. His care was sweet.

You hold onto his shoulders as you lower yourself onto his cock. You bite your lip to hold back the slight pain and the feeling of his length inside you. You'll never get tired of this feeling.

When you've swallowed Jungkook's cock completely, you sit for a while to get used to it. Chonguk kisses your lips to fill the pause.

Just when you want to start moving, you hear someone's voice.

"Is someone here?" - You hear Jimin's voice. You are terrified. You squeeze Jungkook's shoulders. Your eyes are like 10 wons.

"Be quiet." - Jungkook whispers to you. He sees your scared eyes and tries to calm you down. He holds your buttocks in his hands and squeezes them to keep you still. It's a good thing Jungkook closed the door to the bathhouse.

You look at Jungkook with big eyes, and you hear your own heartbeat. Maybe a minute passes, maybe more, and you hear only silence. It looks like Jimin has left.

"Should we go? Let's finish this later tonight?" - You suggest in a whisper. But Jungkook is against it. He raises his eyebrows and whispers in displeasure.

"How am I going to leave with a hard-on?" - You look at his expression for a second and laugh softly. Jungkook doesn't share your mirth. He's not leaving this bathhouse until your pussy makes him come.

"Don't be mad, sweetie. I wasn't thinking. Let's finish the adventure ride quickly." - Jungkook laughs at your joke, and without warning, he shoves you hard. You scream in surprise and dig your nails into his soft body.

You get used to the sensations and start jumping on his lap too. His cock plunges deep with every movement. You feel dizzy with pleasant pleasure. You moan softly.

"My good girl." - Jungkook whispers into your neck. "Are you feeling good?"

"Yes." - You exhale.

"Come on my girl, cum on my cock." - Jungkook urges you. You speed up your movements and do as he asks. You feel yourself cumming with fierce pleasure. Jungkook continues to fuck you so that he can come too.

When he feels close, he grabs your hips and lifts you up sharply. You lift off his lap to a small height. You fall a little further onto his lap and Jungkook cums on his stomach. You watch breathlessly as he stops ejaculating. His semen runs down his stomach and he breathes rapidly. You lock eyes and both of you smile.

"It's fucking amazing!" - Jungkook says, louder than he should be. You hiss at him.

"Keep your voice down." - You complain. He smiles and takes your neck, pulling you into a kiss. You soften when his lips are against yours.

"You go first, I'll get cleaned up." - Jungkook says as he lets you go and you stand up from his lap.

Like that cat without a sound, you find yourself in the room almost instantly without meeting anyone on your way. Feeling like you've just had an orgasm, you hurry to the bathroom and take a quick shower. You're happy because you just had the most incredible sex with Jungkook. It's a beautiful place with a cozy atmosphere. Your mood is just perfect and nothing seems to be able to spoil it.

You put on a warm mint-green knit sweater with a deep V-neck and voluminous braids, and pull dark gray straight jeans with a high rise over your hips. You decide that you're going to wait for Jungkook in the room.

You're just clicking on your phone when you hear something fall in the next room. This is the room where Jungkook is supposed to be sleeping. You put the phone down and go to the room.

You walk in and run your eyes around. Everything seems to be in place and nothing has fallen. But suddenly, a slightly open closet door catches your attention. Something black looks out of it.

You approach the closet and notice that it is a bag. It is large and seems heavy. Somewhere on the side it is propped up by another bag, similar to the one you saw in Jungkook's hands. Most likely, this bag has moved the big one with its weight.

You grab the fallen bag by the handles, but it is too heavy. The sound of metal reaches your ears. You unzips, want to what could be so heavy in that bag.

You are frozen. The contents of this bag scare you to say the least. Hell, it scares the hell out of you.

Weapons. This bag is filled to the brim with weapons of all kinds. From small pistols to assault rifles. You open the bag wider and see ammunition, too. A lot of ammunition. Knives and what looks like stun guns. You pick up one of the pistols with trembling hands and look at it with eyes full of horror. It is heavy and cold.

You feel panic filling every cell in your body. Why does Jungkook have so many guns? Is he selling them? Is he going to kill someone with these weapons? Isn't a trip to Japan just about celebrating Christmas?

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#jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x f!reader #jungkook smut #jungkook friends with benefits #bts mafia au

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pastshadows · 5 months ago

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Shadows of the Past

Chapter 19: I Will Find You

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 4.8K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

The constant drip, drip, drip of water raining from the stalactites is unnerving, and your fingers tremble as you set up the tent. Astarion wraps his hand around yours, giving it a small squeeze. He takes the metal stake from your quaking grip and hammers it into the stony earth.

“We should not have brought them.” You catch just a flit of Astarion’s crimson eyes as they flash to the side to leer at you accusingly. “Their hearts beating is like ringing a dinner bell.”

“They promised to stay in camp while you and I do the scouting,” you conclude in a clipped response.

The initial idea was for Astarion and you to go alone into the Underdark and search for the siblings whose scars did not match the parchment that was discovered in the derelict manor. You would have been able to convince Gale to stay behind with Hecat, but Shadowheart was as obstinate as ever, declaring that you would have need of a Cleric should things go south. It’s not common for you to lose arguments, but after hours of back and forth, you eventually conceded.

Gale, Hecat, and Shadowheart are all erecting their tents in a tense silence. A makeshift fire pit has already been situated in the middle of camp, crackling and popping with whatever wood you could scavenge.

“Lovely,” Astarion chirps with feigned cheeriness. “A stationary meal then, like a hobbled goat left out for wolves.”

“I tried,” you say under your breath, trying to keep the agitation out of your voice while unrolling bedrolls and placing furs. “They are not sheep I can shepherd. If you could have done a better job convincing them to stay behind, you were more than welcome to try your hand at it.”

He scoffs. “As if those imbeciles ever listened to me.”

“They just want to help.” You try to assuage his irritation.

“I know,” Astarion sighs, brushing his hands together to clean off the dirt. “I just wanted you all to myself again. I miss home — our home. Gale’s is lavish, but it’s becoming rather crowded as of late.”

You crawl into the tent, and Astarion joins you, holding his arm up for you to curl up next to him.

“I miss home, too,” you acknowledge. It may have started out a little rocky, but those days spent lounging in bed, talking, and making love from sunup to sundown fill your heart with longing to return. It had been nice to leave behind all of this and just be. It makes you rethink your decision not to pursue the deal offered by Aldous. “It was nice, just you and me.”

“Indeed,” he agrees with a heavy exhalation. He buries his nose in your hair. “I cannot wait for this to be over, and we can return. We could buy a new residence if the other is too… painful.”

“Maybe,” you muse on the notion. “Where would you want to live?”

He shrugs. “It matters very little to me. Anywhere is home with you.”

“Even this tent?” You twist, crawling further into his lap, and he cradles you in his arms with a grin.

“Yes,” he coos softly. “Even this godsdamned tent.”

You brush your fingers through his hair and narrow your eyes mischievously. “You’re a terrible liar, Astarion.”

The crimson of his eyes burns, and he scoffs with a rumbling, deep laugh. “I said it’s home as long as you’re here. I did not say it was an acceptable accommodation for someone of my import.” He glances around. “There is very little room in here to do all the terribly depraved things I wish to do to you.”

“That never stopped you before,” you taunt back with a giggle.

“And it will not stop me now,” he purrs, dipping his head to mould his lips to yours. "I am a master of improvisation, after all."

Your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer, and he tightens his grip on you, slipping a hand into your hair to hold you to his insistent mouth. Astarion sucks on your lower lip gently and takes advantage when you gasp, slipping his tongue in to tangle with yours.

“If you two are quite done canoodling in there,” Gale’s says from somewhere outside the tent. “The meal has been served.”

Astarion breaks the kiss abruptly to stare at the tent door with a vexed, furrowed brow. He leans close, keeping his voice low. “Canoodling? Truly? How old is he?”

You giggle at his ire. “What’s the problem? Don’t you want to canoodle with me?”

Astarion groans, rolling his eyes. “Decidedly not. I want to make love to you; commit the carnal sins of depravity, fuck. I do not canoodle.”

Kissing the tip of his nose, you taunt. “I see so much canoodling in the centuries to come, my love.”

“You’re terrible,” he grunts, pushing you away playfully. “Come. We need to get you fed lest your stomach growl and keep me up all night.”

“How bad does it smell?” You whisper.

“Bad,” he smirks. “Atrocious, if I am being totally honest. It’s times like these that I am thankful I do not have to sup on food.”

He was definitely not lying. The food is rather bland, and you would prefer not to eat it, but it’s either this or listening to Astarion complain about your growling stomach all night, so you shove spoonfuls into your mouth and try to focus on the conversation and not the taste.

Gale, Shadowheart, and Hecat share stories, though it’s mostly Shadowheart and Gale reminiscing while Hecat is enraptured and dazzled by every tale of daring they spew. It unsettles you to let her know this much of your past, but you cannot quite see the harm in it. They know well what to keep to themselves and mostly just tell her perfunctory random things.

“Did you really do that, dragon girl?” Hecat inquires, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Do what?”

“Allow a servant of Loviatar to beat you bloody?” Hecat grins widely. “And taunt him the entire time.”

You narrow your eyes at the pair, who are snickering like fools. Astarion chimes in before you can confirm or deny this. “Oh-yes. That was a splendid day,” he says dreamily. “So much blood, although a dreadful waste for it to end up on the filthy floors.”

“I seem to remember you enjoying yourself a little too much, Astarion.” Shadowheart quips blithely.

“Nonsense. There is no such thing as too much when it comes to watching others be beaten and bloodied by an imbecile in a costume,” he taunts deviously.

Gale shakes his head in disbelief. “I must say, I am glad I missed that particular spectacle. It sounds positively hedonistic.”

“Gods. You are truly as vanilla as they come, Gale.” Astarion laments with a smug undertone.

Gale’s brows furrow. “What’s wrong with vanilla?”

Shadowheart bursts out laughing, Hecat snickers, and Astarion cannot hide the jubilant chuckling even though he tries.

“Do you remember that time you got drunk on blood, Astarion? You came out of the forest, stumbling and slurring your words, looking for our fearless leader,” Shadowheart says, bringing her hand to her mouth to hide her laughter. “I do not believe I ever saw you in such a spectacular mood again.”

“My friend!” You mock him, and giggle when he shoots you a pointed look.

“Do you people even realize how much blood there is in a bear?” Astarion grunts, crossing his arms to feign irritation and jutting his chin out pompously. “It would be comparable to you drinking a barrel of spirits to yourselves.”

“You can get drunk on blood?” Hecat asks, obviously astounded by this new information.

Her eyes sparkle with the firelight when she looks at him, and she swoons. It makes you bristle like an angry cat, but you manage to conceal it before you can scoff.

Astarion nods. “If there is enough of it, but it’s not exactly drunk, it’s more of a euphoria.”

“It’s drunk,” you retort quickly, shoving another spoonful into your mouth. “He couldn’t even stand without tripping over his own feet. I would never have believed he possessed the capability to be so positively ungraceful. Embarrassing, really.”

Astarion bumps you with his shoulder, making you almost spill your soup or stew. Honestly, you’re not quite sure what to call this connection.

“Ungraceful? Let’s not go throwing stones, sorceress. Glass houses, and all that.” His eyes narrow, and he tries to frown at you, but his eyes are glinting with amusement. He gets up and bows shallowly. “As delightful as his conversation has been, if you’ll excuse me, I will retire for the night before we can do any more of,” he waggles his fingers at the group. “This," he cringes.

“Me too,” you add in, taking his offered hand. “We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow.”

Gale smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Yes. I’m positive you’ll be going straight into your trances. Rest well, you two.”

“Would you mind keeping it down tonight?” Shadowheart gibs with a snooty upturn of her nose. “It was a long night of travelling, and I would like to get some sleep.”

Hecat eyes rake over Astarion, and you flush, but not with embarrassment. You take what you hope looks like a normal step in front of him to shield him from her sultry gaze. In all truth, it’s less for him and more for you, but both things can be true.

“Hmm…” Astarion muses, tapping his chin with his finger. “Unlikely. We will canoodle as nosily as we please,” he chirps boisterously.

Shadowheart groans out loud , letting her head hang, and mumbles, “I’m going to cast Silence over your tent.”

Astarion smirks. “You must concentrate to keep that up, don’t you, flower? I wish you the best of luck. I am positive I can draw it out far longer than you can manage to stay awake.”

Gale nearly chokes on his food, going as red as Karlach. Shadowheart pats him hard on the back with a sly grin. “Hells below. Goodnight,” she finally says, chuckling and making her way to her tent.

When you crawl into your tent, Astarion digs through the pack and tosses you one of his shirts, which you quickly hurry into and slip under the furs.

He joins you quickly, his nimble fingers doing up the laces at the front of the shirt you’re wearing. “We cannot have you catching a chill.”

“I do not get grumpy!” You snort.

He smiles widely, the tips of his fangs peeking out from his perfect lips. “You get downright petulant,” he jeers. “Would you like to read or rest?”

“Read,” you confirm.

Astarion grabs the book, lays back, wraps an arm around you, and pulls you close. “Lights, my dear.”

Tiny, pinpoint spheres float from your palm into the air, like tiny golden stars. You read the pages with your head resting on his chest, and he turns them when you tap him with your finger. Before long, your eyes begin to flutter shut despite your attempts to keep them open.

He presses a kiss on your forehead, pulls the furs up, and tucks you in tenderly. You murmur, moving to push your face into the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply. The orbs of light ebb, blinking out one by one, and Astarion hums low and lyrical until you slip into your trance.

The Arcane Tower dominates the horizon with its spectral glow from the lit lamps. It’s simultaneously an unsettling and welcome sight. Though the devastation of the spawn on the environment can be seen on account of the skeletal remains of creatures large and small, none have crossed your path. It’s hard to know whether to be glad or alarmed by it. The last time you were overtaken without much warning.

“I would hear them long before they could descend on us,” Astarion assures, sensing the neurotic turbulence that’s making you grip your quarterstaff so hard that your knuckles are white and straining. “If I give the order, run and do not look back.”

Your brows pinch, and you exhale noisily through pursed lips. “You can give the order, but I will not run,” you retort, shaking your head. “If you think I will leave you, you’re out of your godsdamned mind.”

“They are less likely to attack me.” Astarion grunts with a pronounced sigh and a rigid scowl. “I will not smell like food to them, but you smell delectable.”

He doesn’t understand - can’t understand — how wild and raging they are because you’ve run from this conversation despite his repeated attempts to have it.

“Tell that to Sebastian,” you murmur dryly. You don’t pay any mind to what you said until you realize Astarion has stopped dead in his tracks and is staring at you wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“Sebastian?” Astarion looks askance. “You saw him?”

The fondness in his voice is unmistakeable, and even though it is beyond silly, your jealousy spikes your blood with flames, and your heart rate soars on the wings of the envious monster you’ve become.

“He saved me last time I was here when I was attacked,” you reply tunelessly in an effort to keep the resentment out of your voice. This is not the time or place to have yet another conversation where Astarion reassures you, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. “He was the only one of the spawn that didn’t seem completely savage.”

Astarion’s head cants slightly, picking up on the revving engine that is your heart. He knows, you think, and you wait for him to react in one of two possible ways. He will either chastise or soothe, depending on his mood.

“That soft heart is what got the idiot killed in the first place,” Astarion remarks frivolously in that devil-may-care breeze he so easily encompasses.

It’s hard not to laugh at his flippant comment. Perhaps many would find it cavalier and uncaring, but to you, it’s wholeheartedly something Astarion would say.

“Humans are incredibly slow learners,” you quip back offhandedly with a rascally smirk while continuing down the path toward the village.

Astarion grins deviously. “That, coupled with their supremely short life spans, it’s a wonder they have not gone extinct.”

“There’s still time,” you concur.

“I think we should kill them,” Astarion blurts suddenly with furrowed brows, looking at his feet in contemplation.

“The humans?” You arch a brow at him, not quite following the switch.

“What? Hells. No. I have a casual relationship with murder, not genocide. Gods. What do you think of me?” He chuckles, smirking smugly, when you scoff at him. “The spawn. If we find them and they are beyond any hope of redemption, I think we should put them out of their misery. I likely should have done it when I had the chance. I had hoped they would be able to learn control, but if that’s not possible..." He pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts. “It’s what I would want should I ever find myself robbed of speech and reason again.”

You put your hand on his chest. His hands come to your waist, and his fingers firmly squeeze. “Whatever you want to do, Astarion, I support you. I will follow your lead.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, which are scarlet mirrors reflecting a canvas of sorrow and regret. “Thank you.”

Your footsteps on the rickety boards that make up the scaffolding in the abandoned village thump, echoing out into the cavernous crepuscule ceiling blanketing the lake. The boats that once carried you towards the old temple of Shar and the forge have scuttled themselves, lying on their sides with their masts reaching out like the arms of drowning men begging to be saved.

The village is as silent as the dead, except for the soft whooshing of waves brushing the banks of the shore. Astarion offers his hand and pulls you up the small cliff, and you both crane your necks to look at the tower dwarfing you.

“Do you hear anything?” You ask as your heart leaps into your chest with memories of watching his siblings deliberate your fate.

And subsequently begging them to let you die, which they obviously decided was not in their best interest.

“Nothing.” Astarion says with a frown. “They could be sleeping.”

The idea of walking through the floors of this place fills you with nothing but dread, and you swallow thickly, your muscles buzzing with something between adrenaline and terror. Astarion’s hand snakes into yours, and he holds your shaking fingers tightly.

“You do not have to go in there,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low in a timbre meant to soothe. “I am capable of searching the place by myself.”

Have you really become so timid that Astarion now offers to leave you behind and retrieve you when he’s finished? There was a time when he never doubted your ability to handle a situation, but it seems those times are long gone. Is it that he cannot trust you to react in time in the face of danger? Does he think you will fold like wet parchment?

The woman you were might be a memory, but you are sick of being afraid — of being the weak link. Most of all, you’re appalled by the pity you see reflected in his eyes as he looks at you like an abused pup.

Maybe you might not be who you were, but you have the chance to become whatever or whoever you want. For better or worse, a new you awaits, lurking just outside of the box you’ve built around yourself, addicted to this lonely kind of love that has done nothing but hurt.

She might be dead.

But you live.

You live.

You squeeze his hand, tugging him a little more harshly than you meant to toward you, grabbing his armour, and pulling his face down to your height. “Where you go, I go. Remember? Stop treating me like a child. You requested I stop being so gentle with you; I’d like the same curtsy.”

Astarion’s surprised expression morphs into a sly grin, and he closes the distance between you, catching your lips. You melt into him, pressing your body into his. He grips your hips, pressing them firmly into his, and grinds against you. It seems like an odd place for this sort of act, but you’re not complaining. It’s been some time since he’s taken you into the dirt.

Unfortunately, he breaks the kiss just as the throb between your legs makes you squeeze your thighs together for relief. “It’s been some time since you bossed me around like that with such delicious authority,” he grins. “I quite like it, you know,” he purrs.

Astarion turns quickly and gives you a gentle shove and a playful swat on the ass. “Come on, bossy thing. After you.”

You roll your eyes at him with a huff, but you cannot hide the yearning smile quirking your lips up and dazzling in your eyes.

You only make it a couple of steps before you hear his taunting voice. “And Kamena? If you want me to make love to you in the dirt, you have but to ask. I would be more than pleased to throw you down, let my hands explore every inch of you, map your goosebumps with my tongue, taste you.”

How would the old you have reacted to such lewd comments? No. How would the new me react? Who do I want to be?

You pivot quickly on your feet and walk backwards while he stalks toward you like a predator. His scarlet gaze is filled with a hungry desire that makes your flesh ache.

It’s time to start reacting without thinking. You were never innocent or soft-hearted, but you were sweet once upon a time. It no longer feels right. There is a new bitterness to you — a fiery bite.

You would rather be whisky neat than sweet tea.

“It makes me wet when you look at me like that, Astarion. If you’re not careful, I might request that you take me right here.” You purr low and seductively, and you relish the way his eyes light up.

Hedonism suits you.

Astarion chuckles, smirking mischievously. He taps his nose. “My love, I know you’re soaked. I hope the others have rested while we are doing all the hard work. I doubt they will be getting much sleep tonight.”

“I’ll hold you to that, darling,” you taunt, turning and hurrying toward the tower. “Gale and Shadowheart will be more than used to our… late-night trysts.”

“You’re a tease, Kamena.” He grumbles, adjusting his trousers. “This is not comfortable.”

“I’m happy to assist you out of that armour at your request,” you quip, and giggle when he groans.

“Good Gods. You’re cruel, sweetheart.” Astarion growls low and silvery, walking up to you and ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear. “Now, get going so we can get back to camp. I’m feeling rather peckish.”

Astarion drags his fangs down your neck — not enough to break skin, but it sends a pleasurable shiver cavorting down your spine with the promise of later. You don’t smother the breathy sigh that shakes out of your throat, and your core clenches involuntarily.

You groan and push forward, determined to scour this damned place as fast as you can so you can retreat to your tent. The massive front doors to the tower are already ajar when you approach, and the first floor holds nothing more than barrels, crates, shelves, and boxes. There are some signs of life with random articles of clothing strewn around, but they are covered in a thick layer of dust and sediment.

The third floor is likewise unoccupied, but there are random packs here. Astarion and you rifle through them but find very little to indicate who they belonged to. They could have been travellers, adventurers, or his siblings.

Or aventurers his siblings ate...

Astarion stands with his arms crossed by a bed when you glance toward him. Walking over, you follow his anchored gaze and see a doublet that he seems particularly interested in.

“Petras’s,” he mumbles.

“Was he always such an asshole?” You ask, remembering the way he wanted to eat you to get back at Astarion.

Astarion snorts out a small laugh. “He was always a snivelling idiot. We did not get along particularly well. Why?”

“I didn’t like the way he spoke to you,” you shrug. It’s not exactly a lie. The way he talked to Astarion when you found him in the flophouse had made your blood boil, and you actually rather enjoyed watching Astarion burn him, but you refrain from telling him the whole truth.

He regards you with a highly arched brow, reading you the way he does, so you quickly move off toward the elevator to get out of his scrutiny. There is little point in telling Astarion the specifics. It would only create more animosity, and his siblings are the only family he has. You will not be responsible for the further deterioration of whatever relationship he has left.

In the event you die, from old age or otherwise, they might be the only thing he has left.

“Come on. We should keep moving.”

“In a rush, are we?” He saunters over.

“I have a date with my very charming, handsome lover that I wish to get to.” You wink at him, your foot hitting the button to go up to the fourth floor. “Post haste.”

The elevator ascends to the topmost floor. From what you recall, it’s mostly destroyed, and you doubt there would be any reason for his siblings to be there unless they were trying to watch for attacks. If that were the case, though, you imagine they would have made themselves known by now.

When the elevator clicks into place, your heart stops in your chest when you see the pale, snake-like grin of Aldous staring back at you with several other spawn poised just behind him.

“Sorceress,” he pouts sarcastically. “I’m disappointed in you. I thought you would have been smart enough to recognize a good deal when it was offered.”

You scoff, turning your nose up, and your teeth grate together. Astarion growls, sliding in front of you with his daggers already held, poised and ready to kill. You cast Stoneskin on Astarion out of a reflexive habit.

“I’ve been waiting to meet you,” Aldous chimes, his voice braided with choler. “It seems the odds between us have evened out, and I cannot wait to make you watch me drain her dry just as you did to me.”

Astarion laughs cruelly, snarling. “I enjoyed your death the first time, but I will enjoy it all the more the second.”

This is not a good place for a battle. The floor has fallen prey to the ravages of time in too many places, with large blocks and rubble littering the pieces that remain, restricting space and movement in equal measure.

You try to find the button to descend, but Aldous notices your movement and barrels toward you. Astarion leaps into battle, and the clash of blades rings out in the air. The two are almost a moving blur of glinting steel as they grapple. Astarion’s footwork is superior, and he gains ground until the other spawn join in the fight.

Adrenaline anoints your muscles and nerves, and your heart throttles in your chest. You cannot lose him here. You will not allow it. Flames writhe over your body, your skin heating to unfathomable temperatures, driven by a hatred so intense it seems to consume all fear. You Misty Step between Astarion and Aldous to intercept the charging spawn.

Thunderwave throws them back. Your fingers dance in their perfected rhythm, and you lace the Weave into spells with quick and masterful precision. You catch a spawn by the neck to your left, and flames erupt from your palms until their screams subside. With your other hand, you summon Chain Lightning, killing some but causing the remaining ones to seize up with paralysis.

You skate through them with your quarterstaff in hand. With limited space and Astarion and Aldous moving around the battlefield with the speed of a shooting star, there are a limited number of spells you can use for range. You’re forced into close-quarters combat, which hinders your abilities.

Clawed fingers rend your skin, sending a sharp agony radiating through you, making you suck in a sharp breath. The spawn hisses at you through their teeth, fangs bared. Before you can retaliate, Astarion is at your side, his shoulder slamming into the spawn and throwing them to the side. There is no time to catch your breath before Aldous attacks while Astarion is preoccupied protecting you.

“Astarion, down!” You shout.

He remembers the command and leans down, flattening his back so you can roll over him. Scorching Ray blasts from your palms, buffeting Aldous and forcing him to counter and change his path on a whim. It gives Astarion enough time to get into a better position and continue pushing Aldous back while you deal with the other spawn.

You cannot use Sunbeam in such a small area, not with the way Aldous and Astarion are moving, but you’re not merely the embodiment of fire; you’re a wildfire that cannot be thwarted. You pellet the spawn with fire that burns as white-hot as your hatred and rage. A ball of fire to the chest of one sizzles straight through them. Shatter to throw the ones to your right off the edge of the building.

You sink into the battle and luxuriate in the ghostly-coloured death that writhes over your skin and explodes from your fingers.

“Solicallor, switch!” Astarion snarls.

He only ever asks to switch in battle when he’s been injured and needs a moment to recover. You look back in horror at the blade buried in his shoulder and Aldous’ maniacal laughter permeating the air.

You cast Telekinesis, throwing the spawn in your path to him off the building, and try to sprint to his side, but you’re not fast enough before Aldous instructs the spawn remaining to create a barrier.

Every spell in your arsenal jumps off your fingers and rolls off your tongue, but you cannot get to Astarion before Aldous has pushed him near the edge of the tower.

In a fraction of a second, the spawn all sprint toward Astarion, throwing themselves off the edge of the tower to their deaths. The last thing you see are his scared red eyes and him shifting as fast as he can to grab Aldous by his armour. Aldous thrashes, trying to pull free from Astarion’s grip, and another blade sinks into Astarion’s stomach.

“I love you, Kamena,” he smiles as his feet lose their footing. “I would have liked to marry you in this life, but I will find you in the next, thiramin.”

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I love reading your comments ❤️

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes: - Chapters might be a little smaller for the foreseeable future. Sorry! - Astarion 🥺 - I smash my keyboard angrily whenever I have to write Aldous' name.

#astarion x tav #astarion x you #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion romance #astarion #astarion x mc #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #baldurs gate astarion #shadows of the past #astarion bg3 #astarion x female tav #astarion x oc

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green-enby · 1 year ago

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Heyo! Have you watched Koisenu Futari (恋せぬふたり, Two people who can't fall in love) yet? It's a great series, just 8 episodes long! I binged it in one day :) [smiley]

It focuses on two aromantic asexual people living together. This is a little appreciation post, containing some thoughts that it evoked in me as an aroace.

If you don't want spoilers, please don't read!

It's so relatable how Sakuko keeps blaming herself all throughout the show… Insecurity stemming from societal expectations that dictate romance is for everyone, and that people who don't date are somehow "failing" in life; I think this affects allos as well.

When I broke off my romantic relationship, I too felt like it had been my fault, for not having been a good enough partner, for not being able to love them in the same way they loved me.

To finally learn that you are not "defective", that there's other people like you…! I love how the two MCs don't grieve their lack of attraction; Sakuko is perfectly happy discovering she's aroace. She and Takahashi are living their "best life" together.

Sure, many aroaces do wish they were allo, and that needs to be represented too, but this series to me really shined a light over why they want that: it's because amatonormativity is rampant in the world, not because lacking attraction is inherently sad. The main conflicts in the series stem from the clash between allo society and the aroace experience, after all. I think that's neat! It gave me a good dose of aroace joy—while still showing the hurts that come with it, realistically—and I really needed it.

I didn't expect her to come out to her family so soon, but whoa, that was intense. Her mother's negative reaction is what all people who exclude a-spec people from the LGBTQIA+ community should see, to understand that we face the same issues they do.

I haven't come out to my parents as aroace yet, and watching this made me realize how awful it actually feels to be in the closet. I somehow hadn't realized I am. I've always felt safe coming out to them as other things, as bisexual back in the day, and as trans non-binary.

It might be because my confidence disappeared when they reacted badly both times, but this coming out feels almost impossible.

Comparing it to coming out as bi, it's really not that different: if you're bi, you're promiscuous and date too many people; if you're aroace, you're a prude and cold-hearted. If you break away from the status quo, you're wrong either way.

But at least, most people do eventually understand the bi experience, if they understand same-gender attraction, and fuse it with straightness, even though it's a flawed method.

With aros and aces, instead, it's such an alien concept for an allo, which makes it way harder to come out and have to explain to them how to deconstruct allo-amatonormativity. It's exhausting. Thankfully, there's people like Kazu who are actually willing to learn about us. That gives me hope.

I feel like it's super eye-opening to find out the concept of romance didn't even exist in the past. Pretty sure that in Europe, it originated during the Middle Ages from the ideal of chivalry. So it's really just a social construct, and opting out of it shouldn't be so controversial!

It's just a set of pointless, annoying rules like having to kiss eachother, having to say "I love you", and doing it all a set amount of times, otherwise it's not good enough. What if we don't want to? What if it doesn't come natural to us? If it's just a social construct, fuck it, I'm not adhering to that! We do whatever makes us happy!

Even in the series itself, Sakuko too goes through a heartbreak, even if it's not the romantic kind: she valued her friendship and future cohabitation with Chizuru above all else, but Chizuru abandoned her, because of romantic love. It's not true that aroaces have it easy.

Like our MC, we have to deal with fear that we'll come off flirty when we're just being friendly, confusion over concepts that we feel we should understand, shame over the fact that we're different, fear of loneliness, frustration and pain that we'll always come second to our friends' romantic partners, or even trauma from a relationship or sexual encounter that we didn't really want. I could go on and on.

These last scenes really got to me. Especially the second one… I admit that I cried, when she had to turn her down, and it seemed like her aromanticism had ruined their relationship. It hurts that the way I am could seriously harm someone I care about. It hurts that most people work differently and that they can't help it, and that we can't help it either. I don't like being put in that position, to cause someone a heartbreak. I have with my ex, and had to watch them spiral down… It was horrible.

Still, I wouldn't change my orientation for the world. I'm confident in my identity, I love being aroace.

In the end, we can all reach our full potential, reach a point where we feel fulfilled and that we're living our best life, find ourselves a family if it's what we want, have our dream job and house. Being aroace doesn't condemn us to a life of unhappiness. That's what this series left me with by the end; it gave me so much hope for my future.

(I'm aware I'm coming off as a bit toxically positive here haha, sorry if I'm striking a bad chord; I'm just in a really good period right now, and riding this wave for as long as I can! Hopefully I can rub it off someone else as well.)

That said, I really loved this j-drama, it was funny and relatable and emotional, I wished it had lasted longer! It seems like the author isn't even aroace herself, so I'm amazed at how good the representation was! So much thought and research has gone into it, and it shows; the result is amazing.

Thanks for reading my scattered thoughts about this! 🧡💛🤍🩵💙

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nonotnolan · 1 year ago

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The Great Gym Shift

Day 15 of life after the body swapping incident that affected downtown Washington DC, and life was still weird as shit. Some people were calling it the Great Shift-- a government cover-up for a science experiment gone wrong. I don’t think a two mile radius really deserves a “Great” moniker but I had to admit it was catchy. Others were calling it a terrorist bioweapon meant to cause havoc across the nation’s government. That did seem possible, but the terrorists had terrible aim if that was the case.

A few people even said it was a plan to put key politicians into younger, healthier bodies, but... I know for a fact that one isn’t true. I was there at ground zero when the swap occurred, working as a personal trainer at the gym. All those desirable bodies, mine included, went to some of the most pathetic white collar workers you could imagine. Whatever happened, it was definitely an accident.

It’s been a month, and I still haven’t gotten used to my reflection. I hope I never do, to be honest. The government is working on getting this whole mess resolved, and I can only hope it will be sooner rather than later. I’ve never had hair this long, and I am in desperate need a of a haircut. Since it’s not my body, I’d have to fill out a requisition form, and I keep hoping it won’t come to that.

One of the first things the Government did was send in the National Guard to put everyone affected into a quarantined hotel area, and then they started drowning us in regulations and paperwork. I’m still working as a personal trainer... only now most of my clients are lazy office drones. Those desirable bodies I mentioned? I’m in charge of making sure their new owners keep them in shape. I’m slowly losing my sanity.

“Mitch! What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” I said, walking out into our shared kitchen. Uncle Sam was putting us up in some very nice accommodations, I had to admit, but my clients-turned-roommates left a lot to be desired.

“C’mon Grady, it’s Saturday,” he said, as if that was supposed to be an answer. I kept starting at him until he continued. “Saturday is my self-care day, and today that means Netflix and cookies. I don’t see what the big deal is...”

“Absolutely not,” I said, holding out my hand. “Give me those, that is way too many calories for one serving. We’re sharing those with the whole floor.” He rolled his eyes and sighed at me, but at least he obeyed me. I can’t help but feel self-conscious bossing all of these men around, especially when they’re large enough to beat me to a pulp if they knew how to leverage their strength. The real Mitch was a lanky college intern who had no idea how to build or maintain muscle mass. Russ would’ve had a heart attack if he was here to see even half the things Mitch wanted to do in that body.

As I walked the plate of cookies out to the common area, I couldn’t help but notice that Larry was still sitting at his room’s computer desk, shirtless and surrounded by a few wadded tissues. Gross, but... I’ve seen Larry’s old body. I can’t entirely blame the old pervert. “Please tell me you didn’t stay up all night watching porn again.”

He just smiled at me, his bloodshot eyes telling me everything that I needed to know. “So what if I did, Grady, it’s Saturday. The fitness schedule you made for me says I don’t have to work out today, and a sleep schedule isn’t a part of the body cohabitation contract we all signed. As long as I still eat three healthy meals today, you can’t make me do anything. So how about giving me some privacy?” He was right, of course. Larry was one of my most frustrating clients, because he knew exactly how to do the bare minimum and nothing more. Tana was one of the gym’s biggest over-achievers, so seeing his body do a complete 180 had been quite the adjustment.

I knew better than to engage with him right now-- better to save my strength for fights that I would be able to win. I set the cookies down in our shared kitchen, waved at a few of the other guys, and retreated back to the bedroom I shared with one other man.

Simon smiled at me, and I could feel my frustrations starting to lift away. “Good morning, Grady. Rough start?” he asked, looking up from his book. Simon was a licensed psychologist who happened to be at a nearby Industry Convention when the Great Shift happened, and I was so glad to have his assistance dealing with all of the heated emotions that boiled over during the aftermath. Furthermore, Simon had ended up in my body. It was a relief to know that my body was being controlled by someone responsible, even if seeing myself each day came with its own set of weird situations.

"You have no idea,” I said, shaking my head. “Or rather, you have an exact idea, because you’ve also had to deal with those guys. I don’t suppose you would be up for some... stress release?” I asked, peeling off my tank top and tossing it onto the floor.

He laughed, quickly setting aside his book and his glasses. “In this body? Always!” Was it weird that I was having sex with my own body? Maybe, but honestly, our daily hookups felt like one of the least weird things about this whole mess. I always knew I was an attractive man, and I’ve always been attracted to anyone who keeps themselves healthy, regardless of gender. Presumably that’s how Simon now felt-- I know that ever since I’ve been in this new Twink body, I have only felt attraction for hairy men. Sexual attraction seemed to follow the body, not the inhabitant.

“Do you ever worry that we’re complicating things?” Simon asked. “For whenever the government is able to switch everyone back into the right bodies, I mean. They’ve told our loved ones that we’re in quarantine, but... how can we go back to normal life when this is all over?” I understood where he was coming from-- his real body was at least twenty years older, and while he didn’t like sharing too much about his life, I’d gotten the impression he had a wife and maybe a few grandkids waiting for him back home.

Simon clearly had a tendency to overthink everything, and I was now used to offering friendly advice while his warm load was still inside of me. “Honestly, I think we’re dealing with a stressful situation, and we’re all just coping however we can. There’s nothing wrong with two consenting adults having sex. And I don’t know about you, but... if I didn’t try to get a wide range of experiences inside of this temporary body, I think I’d regret the missed opportunity forever.”

He smiled at me. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, as he sipped on cheap hotel coffee. “’In sickness or in health’ wasn’t really meant to cover something so impossible. And I’d rather seek forgiveness than forever ponder what might have been.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said, smiling back at him. I think we both knew it was a bit selfish, but how else could we be expected to process these strange new desires? Yeah, I guess I felt a bit guilty having sex with someone other than my girlfriend back home, but... when else would I ever get an opportunity to have sex with myself? I don’t think there is a person alive who could blame me.

#male body swap #gay body swap #after the swap #muscle jock #great shift

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notmorbid · 10 months ago

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still born.

dialogue prompts from still born by guadalupe nettel. this book deals directly with infant loss / illness.

nothing will happen to you while i'm here.

in friendships like ours, there's no room for hypocrisy.

they say that violence begets violence.

the more we love a person, the more fragile and insecure we feel because of them.

if you disappeared, a part of me would go with you.

i can't take any more of you.

can i bum one off you?

what was it like to live with ____?

i didn't come here to argue with you.

i've got you to love. i don't need anyone else.

can you talk? i need to tell you something.

it's a long story. you'll need to pay attention. do you have time now?

did you just get back from school?

i just went for a walk around the block.

why don't we go to the park this afternoon?

i talk to myself, too.

did anyone tell you what happened?

what did i do wrong?

there's nothing like looking at a lake to calm one's thoughts.

do you mind if i smoke?

i promise you i won't leave until it's better.

the city is full of dangerous people.

i can't imagine what it would feel like to be in your place.

there's no word for a parent who loses a child.

did you used to play in the street when you were little?

it's not healthy to wallow in pain.

what should i have done differently?

i can't keep explaining it over and over again.

talking about it made me feel better.

anger is nothing but a screen for avoiding pain.

you're totally unreadable.

you're smoking again?

being a mother means being worried about someone else all the time.

love and common sense are not always compatible.

some music fuses with our selves, we've listened to it so much.

cohabitation is one of the hardest experiences to survive.

i wouldn't mind a vodka tonic.

some people are more awake at night.

what did you used to like doing before you shut yourself in?

i don't want kids, even adopted ones.

you forgot how to be happy.

there's nothing for you here. go away.

it's easier to blame others for what we can't tolerate in ourselves.

you look like you've gone back in time.

you can spend the day with me.

it's not right, but sometimes it's worth doing.

what i want is for you to stop meddling in my life.

i need to know so i can help you.

it's as if ____ needs to suck my life force to grow.

all i feel is worn out.

normal mothers don't think those kinds of things, do they?

i'm not sure 'normal mothers' exist.

you'll judge me. you always do.

there are people who consider misfortune an infectious disease.

we tend to see our mother's mistakes as the source of all our problems.

you're always questioning the past.

if you don't leave home, you suffocate. if you go too far, you lose oxygen.

from hereon in, anything that happens is a bonus.

i'm here to help you, not to fight you.

i like to say things straight.

there's always a way to renegotiate debt.

i can't believe you hid this from me. it's like staying quiet when there's a fire in the house.

you're not on your own. we're a family now.

i ask myself why you stay sometimes, too.

are we going to stay like this for the rest of our lives?

blood ties don't guarantee anything.

the biological family is something that's been imposed on us. there's no reason we should settle for that if it doesn't work for us.

i can't stand being in my head.

is it your voice in your head, or someone else's?

what do you do when your thoughts bother you?

you've got space inside you where you can go and hide.

we have the children that we have, not the ones we imagined we'd have.

what could someone so young know about despair?

don't leave my side for a minute.

i feel like an absolute worm.

do you think you'll be able to fall in love again?

don't be nervous. whatever has to happen will happen. no one gets out of that.

#rp meme #ask memes #inbox memes #rp memes #ask meme #rp prompts #inbox meme #sentence starters #families

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decepti-thots · 1 year ago

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☕ MTOs & specifically what do you think they were going for with that?

MTOs are an interesting narrative thing to me in the sense that they really are so localised to only one part of the canon; they're very clearly Roberts' idea and only really matter, inasmuch as they do matter, in MTMTE. It's pretty clear to me that's the case for one specific reason: they'd actually fit SUPER well into the narrative arc of exRiD, especially early-to-mid RiD, but they basically never come up! You'd think 'neutrals and soldiers stuggling to cohabit socially and politically' would be prime fodder (lmao) for taking advantage of a narrative about mechs born of and into war coming back to a civilian life on a planet they really don't know. And yet.

What they're doing in that comic, in MTMTE, is a little headscratching to me at times. It feels, to be honest, somewhat like worldbuilding put in to make the texture of the backstory of the war feel grander than IDW had really managed up to that point in actual on-panel stuff, without a lot of thought when doing so in the moment as to the knock on implications going forward. MTMTE does this a few times, tries to use vague gestures at important sounding stuff to bring a greater sense of history and depth to the war in the face of the actual stuff we saw in phase one being. Mmmm. Basically just twenty dudes we already know shooting at each other across parking lots. LMAO.

(Sidenote: I know for a fact Roberts watched original flavour nuWho, and this is PEAK Russell T Davies doing worldbuilding when he was on Doctor Who, and I fully believe he was cribbing from that playbook. Every damn episode RTD would make them just sort of say stuff about the Time War that made it sound incredibly vast and textured and complex but which, crucially, never made any actual fucking sense. Good examples of stuff like this would be the Crucible, the Simanzi massacre, etc. This is, to be clear, a neutral observation, not praise or criticism per se.)

I say this because MTOs should probably be a bigger deal in terms of the impact on our cast, and their outlook on life and reasons for joining the quest, than they wind up being. An MTO is a character with no experience of living in peacetime at all, likely no experience of Cybertron, no sense of kinship or home necessarily to the planet they came "back" to. All of this provides a really clear motivation, given the implication most surviving non-neutral Cybertronians are now MTOs due to huge numbers of deaths, to join a quest like the Lost Light's! But it tends not to come up much, and I think it's because it wasn't really part of the plan. Later on, there's room to slot in some details here and there- Riptide talking about his experiences with being infodumped at by the 'training' comes to mind- but it takes a while for the comic to come back round to that.

The two big exceptions, of course, are Getaway and Brainstorm. The idea is definitely interacting with their characters more, though again, it... tends to come up later. Especially for Getaway, who I'm not convinced was originally conceived as an MTO, but had it slotted in a bit later as 'well that works' stuff tbh. (And it does, so that's fine!) Which leaves Brainstorm, who lies about being forged to throw off suspicion, who it's implied never got the time of day from Quark in a way I wouldn't be surprised we're supposed to assume is some kind of remaining bias, perhaps. Who didn't see a future for himself 'back on Cybertron' and so concocted a very weird plan to avoid having to. Who never got a choice about his 'side' in the war, and wound up with no real loyalty for anyone.

I think if there's any avenue I'd have liked to see more about MTOs via, it's Brainstorm. I wish there'd been more room to focus on that instead of (I'm so sorry shippers) his thing with Perceptor as the way to talk about his sense of inadequacy, tbh. What did it feel like, lying to Chromedome about remembering a pre-war life he never got a chance to experience? Being made to shoot people and be shot and escaping the fate of having that be the only thing he ever knew by the skin of his teeth? Not being able to imagine an end to the war, so all he wants to do is save one guy and run off with him as a pipe dream? That seems like the character where a lot of this stuff should naturally lie, to me. And I think it's a shame I've seen very little talk in fandom about it!

#ask meme

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taterswithranch · 5 months ago

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smol but still deadly

#this deal of ours: cohabitation #my art #fnf #fnf tabi #entity #entity agoti #entity nikusa

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enigmaticexplorer · 5 months ago

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Chapter XXV

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 7.2K

19 Elona

Over the months, Kazi had grown complacent.

With the Empire’s arrival, Magistrate Aro was distracted. The busyness of Imperial consolidation and organization required his focus elsewhere. As such, Kazi hadn’t seen or heard from him in months.

Until this morning.

Picking another piece of white fur from her uniform, Kazi took a steadying breath. And then she knocked.

The door slid open.

With a professional smile, she strolled into the magistrate’s office. Her smile twitched at the sight of a bronze-skinned man with shoulder-length hair. Bash.

Kazi masked her surprise and bewilderment, stopping beside Bash as she faced the magistrate’s desk. Bash stood alert. His hands were clasped behind his back. An easy smile warmed his face.

The combination of this random meeting and Bash’s appearance furthered her disquiet.

Magistrate Aro sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled. Eyes formerly sharpened by political cunning glinted with increased paranoia. A possible side effect of the growing Imperial presence? A connection to the continued evasion of rebels and the lackluster attempts to stall clone desertion? Kazi wasn’t sure.

The magistrate looked between her and Bash, and then, silently, he gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. They both took their seats.

“I have called you here this morning to discuss a problem,” Magistrate Aro said. Though his demeanor was effortless, Kazi noted the fury hardening his jaw. “A banking retraction alerted me and other officials to the loss of twenty thousand credits.”

In the grand view of the government’s reserve, twenty thousand credits amounted to little. Simply a blip in the records. But its loss signified potential security issues.

“Pirates?” Bash offered.

An uncanny smile darkened the magistrate’s countenance. “A quick search through the government’s account has revealed more covert losses. Five hundred credits one week. Three hundred another. Small enough amounts to be overlooked. They can be traced back to Helona.”

An alarm of understanding flashed in the back of her mind, and Kazi grew rigid.

Bash first approached her for access to government funds back in Helona. She thought it was a one-time operation. Apparently, the network had kept busy the last few months.

Stupid, she hissed to herself. The rebel network was fucking stupid.

Stealing a couple hundred credits every few weeks was smart. It allowed them to avoid security scans and database searches because the government reserve, due to its vast amount, couldn’t bother itself with minute details like a couple hundred credits.

But twenty thousand credits?

What compelled them to stupidly—arrogantly—steal that much money was outside her clearance. But it was so fucking stupid. So fucking risky. And now they were all going to pay for it.

“You believe, Magistrate,” Bash said slowly, his astonishment practiced and seemingly genuine, “that someone is stealing money from the reserves.”

Kazi maintained a frown of confusion, of unbridled shock, even as unease wound through her blood.

“I do.” Magistrate Aro leaned back in his seat. “It is evidential that rebel activity has found a permanency on this planet. Amongst our very own government employees. This is cause for concern.”

The magistrate keyed into his datapad and a holographic image cast the desk in a blue haze. Kazi blinked at a familiar building. A building caved in and burning. The building Wolffe had studied the last few weeks at breakfast.

“I received reports early this morning of an attack on an Imperial lab,” Magistrate Aro said. “A lab dedicated to medical advancements.”

Ignoring the fear bunching in her muscles, Kazi assessed the magistrate. Was he aware that the lab dedicated to “medical advancements” was, in fact, a lab conditioning clones into mindless assassins?

“Reports from my contacts confirm the assailants were rogue clones,” the magistrate finished.

Grainy security footage revealed blurred images of armored clones engaged in a shootout. Apprehension tautened her spine. She forced herself to remain still. Unaffected.

The men had left for their mission three days ago. Three days without contact from Wolffe. Three days not knowing if he was alive. And all she had was this grainy footage demonstrating just how dangerous this mission was.

The footage burst in a flare of sparks. Kazi swallowed.

“Were the assailants apprehended?” Bash asked.

Keying off the hologram, Magistrate Aro sighed. “By the time reinforcements arrived, the building was destroyed and the assailants escaped. However, a military stealth ship overseeing the lab confirmed the ship’s escape vector. It placed the assailant’s ship in the heart of Veridian Sector.”

Kazi curled her fingers into her thigh. Curled them hard against her flesh.

“I have spoken with Moff Harpy and she agrees with me.” The magistrate steepled his fingers once more. “Eluca and nearby planets will be shutting down transportation spaceports and closing space lanes for the foreseeable future.”

The decision would surely anger locals and travelers. And it would negatively impact trade in the Sector. Based on the fury simmering beneath the magistrate’s self-effacing countenance, he didn’t care. Then again, he had never cared about Eluca’s locals.

Forcing herself to relax into her chair, Kazi crossed one leg over the other, feigning confused intrigue. “Do you believe these assailants have connections to Eluca?”

“That is why I have called you here.” Magistrate Aro tapped a finger to his desk. “I want you to investigate both the money-laundering and the attack on the medical lab. Determine if there is a relation between the two.”

That…was surprising. There was no connection between the two. The project would be easy, then—

“I also want you to determine who has been stealing our money. Treasurer Aurelius”—Magistrate Aro beckoned to Bash—“will grant you access to the accounts, all necessary data, and information on who can access what.”

From the corner of her eye, Bash nodded solemnly. Kazi dipped her head in acceptance of the new task, even as sweat clammed her palms.

The magistrate pinned her and Bash with a hard look. “I want these rebels found.”

A few minutes later and Kazi found herself alone with the magistrate. She tried to ignore the fear creeping at the corners of her mind. The fear biting into her bones.

But Wolffe was far away, and if something happened to her, she would be alone. Neyti and Daria would be alone. Defenseless. Vulnerable.

“I was unaware you have a daughter, Ms. Lucien.”

Her heart dropped.

“It was in a report I read this morning.” A bemused frown wrinkled the magistrate’s forehead. “I was also unaware that you are married.”

The statement, while casual, was a façade for something colder. Threatening. And a guileless smile made his teeth shine brighter—the snap of a lurking shark in the darkened pits of the ocean.

“I’m not,” she said, keeping her features masked. Her mounting panic contained.

His smile sharpened; his eyes flicked across her face.

“Your daughter attends Hollow’s Schooling One.”

Dread lumped in her stomach, and, stiltedly, she said, “Yes.”

Magistrate Aro tsked and set aside his datapad. He studied her. “There are far better schooling options here, in Canopis. You should consider relocation. It would be…ideal to have you closer.”

“I’ll consider it,” Kazi said, discreetly drying her hands on her uniform. “Once the school year finishes, it will be my priority.”

“Excellent.”

The magistrate reached behind him, to the wine rack, and grabbed a bottle. The snap of the cork echoed in the silence. A phantom pain grasped her neck; she ignored it.

Pouring himself a glass, Magistrate Aro swirled the blood-red wine, sighing. “I must confess to you: I am quite disappointed in our lacking advancement in capturing these rogue clones.”

Kazi nodded, silently expectant.

“I thought I had made a breakthrough,” he continued, his voice quiet enough it could have been a mumble. He stared into his wine glass. “My assassin was…checking your work. He had a lead, and he was supposed to provide me the intelligence I needed. But he never returned.”

As she would when she encountered a curious yet possibly aggressive shark on her dives, Kazi held still. Her eyes remained on the magistrate. She watched for minute changes in his face, his posture, prepared for a swift change in demeanor.

“Your personal analyses have revealed a former Republic outpost connected to these deserted clones,” Magistrate Aro said. “I had it investigated. It was abandoned.” His gaze returned to hers; his pupils were constricted to tiny pinpricks of black. “Yet your analyses claim the outpost has received twelve long-range transmissions in the last four months. Peculiar, isn’t it?”

“It’s more than likely the clones live nearby the outpost,” Kazi said, her tone calm, musing. “They are engineered soldiers, after all. They would be clever enough to avoid constant association with the outpost, yes?”

“Hmm.” The magistrate regarded her for a long moment. “I suppose that is one theory to consider.”

Kazi inclined her head in acknowledgement.

A sip from his wineglass and then Magistrate Aro faced the windows. He gestured in her direction. “Continue with your work. It will lead us to an answer, I know it.”

Outside the office, Bash was leaning against a wall. Kazi glared at him. He motioned for her to follow him, and once they were secluded in an empty hall, she rounded on him.

“Did you steal the money?” she demanded.

“Careful,” Bash warned. He scanned the hall, gaze drifting to the single cam. They stood in its blind spot. “That is above your clearance.”

“That was lazy and risky,” she spat. “There will be no surviving this.”

“Which is why you’re on it.” Bash patted her cheek and she jerked back. He levelled an unimpressed look on her. “Your orders are to make certain the data leads elsewhere.”

A sardonic scoff seared her throat, and Kazi fisted her hands behind her back, gritting her teeth. She was tired of the network using her as its scapegoat. She was tired of their negligence threatening her fucking life.

“The clones who attacked the lab”— Bash straightened his black robe, the lapels golden and polished—“were they yours?”

“No.” She sniffed disdainfully. “Their sole focus is rescue-and-relocation.”

Bash appraised her for a long moment. Skepticism narrowed his eyes but he shrugged, turning away. “I hope your clones aren’t on a mission,” he said. “Who knows how long the borders will be closed.”

As soon as his footsteps faded, Kazi crumbled against the wall, massaging her temple.

The magistrate had confirmed her suspicions—he had hired Court. To “check” her work. At least she now knew he was watching her, spying on her. And she also knew her data manipulation remained solid under investigation.

Small victories, though disappointment clung to her hunched shoulders at the knowledge that Wolffe wouldn’t return anytime soon.

There was nothing to be done about the closed borders, though. She could only hope Wolffe and his brothers could find a safe holdout in the interim.

22 Elona

The closed borders dampened Eluca’s winter holiday festivities.

A somber hush haunted the Marketplace and the Square. Even the weather, unrelenting rains and dense fog, cast the holiday week in darkness. The planet’s morosity affected Neyti the most.

All primary schools were closed for the week, and Neyti had made plans. Plans to stargaze with Nova. Plans to paint with Cody. Plans to hike with Fox and Fluffy. Plans to garden with Wolffe.

Instead, the little girl had spent the last few days hunkered in the sunroom, watching raindrops arc down the window panes. It didn’t matter that Cody had commed—a brief message confirming they were alive and waiting for the borders to open. Neyti was upset by their absence.

To lighten the mood, Kazi and Daria had spent earlier today with Neyti decorating the house.

They strung lights. They baked berry pies. They watched a holiday holofilm. The sight of Fluffy trying to bat a string of lights from a curtain rod made Neyti giggle. Kazi had considered it a success.

Tying off her robe, Kazi stepped from the ‘fresher and into her bedroom. The chrono revealed the lateness of the hour—she and Daria had spent two hours after Neyti went to bed redecorating, and after sleeping so poorly the last few nights, she needed to sleep.

With a yawn, she watered the bouquet of purple flowers she had bought for Wolffe two weeks ago. (He’d started keeping his bouquets in her bedroom, a splash of color to her wall’s shelves.)

A soft knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. Daria must have needed—

Her door swung open. Wolffe, freshly showered, stepped into her room.

Stunned, Kazi could only stare at him. “How are you back?”

“Didn’t get the government update?” he asked. His smirk was amused as he shut her door, dropping his duffel bag to her floor. “Check your ‘pad.”

Sure enough, a news report dated four hours ago revealed an update. The headline was simple: Imperial Pressure Forces Immediate Space Travel Reopening for Five Affected Planets.

Kazi glanced at Wolffe. “When did you get back?”

“Ten minutes ago.” He approached her, his eyes flitting across her face. “Needed to shower first.”

She didn’t have time to respond before his hands were on her jaw and he was kissing her. He was kissing her, and she was melting into his body, and she couldn’t help but laugh her relief. Because he was alive, and he was here in time for Eluca’s holiday, and she had missed him.

He kissed her harder, stroked her tongue in a desperate, slow caress.

An arm around his shoulders, a palm to his chest. His heart roared beneath her hand—a steady beat that said I’m here. I’m right here.

Wolffe flattened a hand to her lower back; he pressed his body against hers. Her fingers slid to his stomach—a need to feel his skin, to touch him fully—and her palm skimmed his lower stomach. He flinched, hissing between his teeth.

Startled, Kazi pulled away, searching his face. A wince tightened his features. When his gaze met hers, he rolled his eyes and he straightened.

“It’s nothing—”

“Wolffe—”

Warm lips were on hers. A hand was sliding down her spine and the other grazing her jaw to entwine itself into her hair.

The back of her legs hit her bed, and Wolffe was pressing her to the mattress, and he was untying her robe. Longing softened his expression at the same time desire darkened his eyes.

Swiftly, Kazi shoved Wolffe to her bed. He hissed, again, and she took advantage of his momentary shock to straddle his hips.

A yank on her robe’s belt. A quick loop around his wrists. And then he was tied to her headboard.

Wolffe blinked, glancing from his bound wrists to her face. He cocked his head to the side. “Impressive, Ennari.”

“Wolffe,” she scolded, unclasping the first button of his white shirt.

“Yes, Kazi?”

With an exasperated shake of her head, she made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. The two pieces fell apart, revealing his chest and his stomach. Her lips parted.

He sighed; defensiveness lined his tone as he muttered, “It’s not so bad.”

“This is…” Gently, she grazed the poorly stitched scar cutting from his hip to the middle of his ribcage. The skin around the cut was swollen. She blinked at him. “What happened?”

“We were discovered,” Wolffe said flatly. “There was a shootout. A trooper knocked my blaster away. We got into it, and he stabbed me. Got his vibroblade right between my armor plates.” He shrugged. “Nova did what he could.”

Kazi leaned back on his thighs. “Were you going to tell me?”

“I’m fine.” Wolffe tugged on her robe’s belt, scowling at his failed attempt to free himself. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I deserve to know these things.”

“It’s an injury.” He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t die.”

“You were injured, Wolffe.”

“A minor injury—”

“A vibroblade to the ribs isn’t minor.”

The thump of her heart was loud in her ears, and her chest seemed to be collapsing on itself, tight and restricted. The stitches were a jagged range across his ribs, and she couldn’t look away.

A vibroblade to the ribs. Mangling skin and muscle.

Heavy machinery crushing a chest. Mutilating bone.

An injury from a fight.

An injury from an accident.

Survived.

Dead.

Kazi pushed herself away from Wolffe, yanking her belt’s knot and releasing him. Slowly, distortedly, she sat on the edge of her bed, her hands trembling as she re-tied her robe.

The white wall wavered before her. Like the white walls in the med center. The white curtain surrounding her father’s bed.

“Kazi.”

“You weren’t going to tell me,” she whispered.

“Because I’m fine.” The bed dipped behind her but Wolffe kept his distance. “I didn’t die.”

“What if things had worsened?” Looking over her shoulder, she scowled. “What if you thought Nova had healed you but you got an infection? What if the stitches weren’t enough? What if something had happened and you didn’t tell me?”

“Is that what you’re mad about?” Wolffe glared at her. “That I didn’t comm you?”

“I deserved to know.”

“Communication goes both ways,” he said curtly. “You could’ve commed me. If you were that concerned.”

Sharp fingernails pierced the skin of her knees. “And what happens when I comm you and you don’t answer?”

Bemusement furrowed his brows as Wolffe eyed her, and she dropped her gaze.

Not once had she ever considered comming him when he was on a mission.

It was easier to count down the days before his return. It was easier to delude herself into believing all was well, rather than acknowledge the true dangers of his missions. The true consequences of his missions.

It was easier to ignore the fact that her father hadn’t answered her comm call that day long ago. That he hadn’t answered either of her comms.

The bed dipped, again, and Wolffe settled himself beside her. Tentatively, he reached for her hand, his fingers playing with hers.

“I’m sorry,” Kazi whispered.

“If I had known…” Wolffe traced the curve between her first finger and thumb. His touch was careful, tender.

“The magistrate has tasked me to look into the attack on the lab.” Wolffe stiffened; a muscle flexed in his jaw. His hasty glance at her neck was subtle but Kazi still noticed it. She fiddled with the hem of her robe. “He thinks there’s a connection between your attack and the money missing from the government reserves.”

His hand tightened around hers. “What missing money?”

“The network.” She lifted her gaze to his. “They’ve been stealing money. Small chunks here and there. But last week they stole twenty thousand credits. It alerted security.”

Calculation hardened the planes of his face, and he grew quiet, assessing. The look of a military strategist planning a battle.

“Sabotage the network,” Wolffe demanded. “Sell them out. Pin this on them.”

“Wolffe—”

“No, Kazi.” His fingers trembled around hers; his grip was tight enough it hurt. “They dug their own grave. Let them pay the price.”

“I can’t do that,” she said. His nostrils flared, and he opened his mouth to argue but she cut him off. “They’ll retaliate. And who will they go after? You and your brothers.”

“They don’t know where we’re located.”

“But they know you’re here.”

“We can handle them.”

“They will turn you into the Empire.” A plea hollowed her voice. It was her turn to tighten her hold on his hand, to make him understand. “And when the Empire puts a target on your back, you won’t be able to escape it.”

He scoffed. “I have for the past two years.”

“There’s nothing to be done,” she said firmly. “If I pin this on the network, it’s possible they could trace something to me.”

A slow blink revealed his fleeting unease, and then Wolffe squared his shoulders. Resolution set his jaw.

“Don’t.” Kazi peered into his face, reaching for his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eye. To see her despair. Her fear. “Don’t interfere.”

His silence confirmed her suspicions, and she started to shake.

“Your life matters to me,” she said hoarsely. “Please, Wolffe, please don’t risk it.”

“Kazi.” Frantic desperation softened his tone, and Wolffe placed his hands atop hers. Gripped her wrists. “Everything I do—” He swallowed. “I will get on my fucking knees and beg you. Betray the network.”

“It’ll endanger you—”

“Kazi. Please.” Wolffe dropped his forehead to hers. “Let me and my brothers handle whatever retaliation comes. We will deal with it. Trust me.”

At the break in his voice, she sighed. Exhaustion weighed on her, a woolen blanket wet, and she could only close her eyes, her hand falling from his cheek.

“If my analysis leads to the network,” she murmured, “then I won’t protect them.”

A hand cupped the nape of her neck, and Wolffe lowered his head to her shoulder, his exhale shaky. His breath warmed her neck. He brushed a soft kiss to her throat.

“I’m sorry.” His voice pitched low. “It wasn’t my intent to scare you.”

“I’m scared every time you leave,” she said, winding one of his curls around her finger. “And I know it’s not fair to you. But I meant it: Your life matters to me.”

23 Elona

Baubles of blue and silver twinkled. Faint morning sunshine trickled through the vaulted ceiling and lit the main level.

The distinct scent of melted berries and the delicate aroma of baking seaweed warmed the air. Kazi flipped the sea-cakes; Daria stirred the stellaburst sauce.

Mellifluous music resonated from the radio.

Finished washing the dishes, Nova tried to steal a sea-cake—the only man who enjoyed their taste—and Daria smacked his hand.

Debating the Imperial military’s recent yet secretive move to Geonosis, Wolffe and Cody grabbed the necessary dishes for the meal. As always, Wolffe prepared Neyti’s lemon juice.

Leaning against the kitchen bar, Fox stayed out of the way, stealing chocolates from the sweet bowl, Fluffy a white mass in his arms. Occasionally, he allowed the anooba to nuzzle his jaw.

Soon, padded footsteps, quieted by bunny slippers, eclipsed the holiday music. Daria threw Kazi an eager smile. Kazi returned it with one of her own.

Tucked into her pajamas and rubbing her eyes, Neyti reached the last stair step.

“Happy life day!”

Surprise widened her eyes as Neyti looked from the adults to the sea-cakes. Her cheeks darkened, and a shy smile warmed her face. Fluffy leapt from Fox’s arms and bounded toward Neyti, bumping his head against her leg. The anooba had grown in the last month, too heavy for Neyti to carry, so she scratched his ears.

“Are you hungry?” Kazi asked, plating a handful of sea-cakes, drowning them in the sauce, and topping the stack with nutow powder. “We can wait—”

“I’m hungry,” Neyti said, her grin bashful.

Wolffe and Cody passed out the plates and silverware. The men, except for Nova, filled their plates with their own rendition of sea-cakes. They moved into the sunroom where Neyti gasped at the decorations beautifying the interior.

Vines of bioluminescent gray flowers tumbled from the curtain rods. Strings of pale yellow and dark blue flowers cascaded in loops along the walls.

However, it was the bouquet of pink flowers—muted pink, bright pink, reddish-pink, grayish-pink—that drew Neyti’s attention.

The bouquet was Wolffe’s idea. An idea he spent the early morning hours perfecting. Only the slight lift of his mouth revealed his pride in his work as Neyti brushed her fingers through the various petals, sniffing the bouquet.

While the others seated themselves on the couch and the chairs, Kazi knelt beside Neyti at the game table. A haphazard stack of presents festooned the surface.

“Not everyone gets to share their life day with a nationally recognized holiday,” Kazi said, placing a silver candle in Neyti’s stack of sea-cakes. She lit it. “That makes you special.”

Neyti stared at the flickering flame. A pensive expression, borderline wistful, subdued her initial surprise, and she closed her eyes. Whispering under her breath, she blew out the candle. A blink of her eyes and Neyti stared at the empty candle.

“Thank you,” the little girl murmured.

Kazi frowned. “You okay?”

A small nod was her only reply before Neyti took a bite. The corners of her mouth lifted, and Kazi decided not to push her.

Later, as she chewed on her own stack of sea-cakes, she couldn’t help but ponder Neyti’s stoic demeanor.

The morning passed in plates of food, warm laughter, and gift-giving.

A detailed painting of Coruscant at night—a personal request from Neyti that Cody obliged.

A book of the galaxy’s most popular fairy tales from Fox.

A star-charting holograph from Nova.

A ruffled pink dress from Daria.

A dragon nightlight from Kazi.

And an empty scrapbook from Wolffe. His knowing grin made Kazi suspicious but she didn’t question it.

In a quiet moment, while Nova showed Neyti how to use a star chart, Kazi perched herself atop Wolffe’s armrest. Daria was admiring the wooden carving of a whale—her favorite animal—Fox gifted her. Cody was listening to their conversation while he flipped through a cookbook Daria had made for him. A cookbook of the Ceaian meals he enjoyed.

A strong arm tugged Kazi closer and she settled herself on Wolffe’s thigh, lounging in the heat of his chest. His mouth skimmed her ear. Lowly, he asked, “Was the candle tradition?”

“More like old folklore,” she said, smiling. “We believe dragons are guardians, and we also believe they protect wishes.” Wolffe blinked his bemusement, and her smile widened. “On your life day, you make a wish. When you blow out the candle, you’re sending your wish into the universe. But wishes can get lost, so we believe each candle’s flame is bestowed by a dragon. When the flame is extinguished, it’s now the responsibility of the dragon to protect the wish.”

Wolffe hummed his intrigue. “Why make a wish?”

“Because sometimes life is hard and you need something to look forward to.” He stilled beneath her; her smile softened. “It’s a comfort to believe that something out there will protect our hopes.”

A hand warmed her thigh, skimming the bare skin beneath the hem of her dress. “What do you think Neyti wished for?”

Across the room, Neyti stuck a green bow onto Fluffy’s tail. The anooba stared at the bow, perplexed.

Kazi shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“What would you wish for?”

“A life far away from the Empire and the network.” Brushing a curl from his forehead, she scanned his face. “What would you wish for?”

He stroked a slow rhythm against her thigh, and then he pressed a kiss to her temple, murmuring, “Your seeds are doing well.”

His refusal to answer wasn’t lost on her but she switched focus, too, observing her pot. The two sprouts had matured, each the length of her arm. According to Wolffe, they had reached their adolescent height.

Orange as a summer sunset, each stem was thicker than her hand. Thin branches blossomed from the stems, and wide leaves, pale orange veined yellow, lazed from the branches.

Wolffe ran his thumb down the length of a leaf. “They should start bearing fruit any day now.”

Rubbing a leaf between her fingers, the fuzzed surface tickling, Kazi asked, “Where did you find citrus-star seeds?”

“The Marketplace.” At her unimpressed scoff, Wolffe smirked. The hand on her thigh tightened, his thumb stroking her inner thigh. “I asked the right people.”

Amused, she rolled her eyes and then kissed his cheek.

More merriment ensued. More presents unwrapped. More food—roasted vegetables, loaves of buttered bread, bowls of soup—warmed their bellies.

Bioluminescent flowers glowed serenely; sketches Neyti had drawn for each adult decorated couch and chair cushions.

Kazi found herself beside the windows, enjoying a bowl of creamy potato soup, watching Neyti, Daria, and Wolffe play a round on a board game. Beside the backdoor, Cody and Nova nursed glasses of the expensive whiskey Fox had bought, chuckling over a story.

A glass in hand, the whiskey a deep amber, Fox joined Kazi at the windows. They stood together for some time.

“There are mornings when I wake up and wonder if this was all a dream,” Fox said, sipping from his whiskey, the ice clinking against the glass. Sunshine swirled in his eyes. Earthy brown. He chuffed a self-deprecating chuckle. “I wonder if I’ll wake up and return to reality.”

Setting aside her finished soup, Kazi frowned. “What would that reality be?”

“War.” His gaze slid in her direction. “Seeing my vode as they were nearly a year ago.”

“A lot has changed,” she remarked.

“It has.”

“For the better?”

He considered her. “You tell me.”

Kazi studied his features—the wearied wrinkles weren’t as pronounced, the dark smudges beneath his eyes dimmed. “That look in your eyes…it’s gone. Mostly.”

He inclined his head, almost mocking, and she rolled her eyes, offering him a leather-bound book.

“You’re running out of space in the current one, so I thought this would be useful,” she said. Fox accepted the book with a grateful nod, and she tugged on a strand of hair, observing his reaction. “Wolffe has told me stories. About your childhood. The first quarter of the book is filled with those stories.”

Surprise widened his eyes and Fox flipped open to the first page. The dark ink of her script reflected back at her.

“Your story also deserves to be told,” Kazi said quietly.

With a resigned smile, Fox closed the book, tucked it beneath his arm, and then reached into his pocket. A small, wooden figurine perched in his palm. It was unlike his other carvings: the wood gray, streaked with black. As if its donor tree had burned and a thin layer of ash had settled into the bark.

“Do you have wolves on Ceaia?” Fox asked.

Kazi slid a finger down the wolf’s back. “No.”

He nodded, as if he’d expected her answer.

“Wolves represent loyalty and strength; independence and courage,” Fox said softly. “They also represent instinct and intuition.” He placed the carving in her palm. “In the heat of a battle, you’re forced to make quick decisions. Decisions that will have long-lasting consequences. To survive, you trust your instinct—trust your gut—and then act.”

The wolf was carved in the midst of a gallop, front and hind legs expanded, tail weaving through the air. Its ears rested atop its head and its eyes slanted against imaginary wind. Kazi ran her finger down the smooth planes of its flank. The wood was coarse beneath her finger.

“Here’s my holiday gift: advice,” Fox said. Kazi returned her attention to his face. To the seriousness tightening his expression. “You’ve given Wolffe a taste of what he’s wanted for a long time. And now you need to make a decision. Doesn’t matter what it is, but you need to make one.”

With that, Fox clapped a hand to her shoulder and made his way toward Cody and Nova.

Emptiness stretched in her chest as Kazi stared at the wolf figurine. Emptiness and guilt.

But it was a holiday, and she already had much on her mind because of the network and the magistrate, and she didn’t want to acknowledge the rabid emotions far, far below. So, she slipped the wolf into the bag with Neyti’s sketch and refocused her attention elsewhere.

Namely on the few presents remaining.

The board game concluded with Daria winning and the men ribbing a perplexed Wolffe.

Slices of pie were shared. Fluffy stole Wolffe’s. The anooba was tossed outside while Wolffe grumbled his annoyance.

The sun was setting.

Neyti reached for the final presents.

“These are an old family tradition,” Kazi said.

Perched on Wolffe’s armrest, again, she clasped her hands in her lap, ignoring the apprehension heating her cheeks. They were just presents. Nothing serious. Just presents.

The attempt at reasoning did little to quell her rising anxiety.

Slowly, Neyti tore apart the wrapping paper of her gift. A pause, eyebrows bunching, and—

Neyti gasped, lifting the navy blue sweater from its wrapping. Knitted into the center of the sweater was the Aurebesh letter “N.” Vines of tiny pink flowers poked and wound around the letter.

Leaping to her feet, Neyti gave her a quick hug and then hurried upstairs. Her door slammed shut. Kazi shared a humored chuckle with Wolffe.

Around the sunroom, the others assessed the sweaters she had spent the last few months knitting.

Fox measured his maroon sweater to his body: a silver “F” with a small fox running along the top line of the letter. Ironically, the little creature was his favorite animal. Due to its natural slyness and cunning ability to outsmart its predators.

Beside Fox, Cody inspected the pale yellow of his sweater. A painted sun surrounded the three vertical lines of his letter “C.” He’d told her once that painting sunrises were his favorite: symbolic of resilience. Hope. His eyes met hers and he gave her a small nod. Nova was tugging his black sweater over his head. His favorite constellation—the first one he’d seen on Kamino—speckled his letter “N.”

Kazi watched her sister. Because it was Daria whose reaction she valued the most.

The violet sweater, its package half-open, sat in her sister’s lap. Daria traced a finger along the gray “D.” A dragon—Daria’s dragon—sat on top of the letter.

Reverently, Daria pressed the sweater to her cheek, sighing. And Kazi knew. She knew Daria was remembering their childhood. The sweaters their mother used to knit every year.

A flicker of silver caught her sister’s attention, and Kazi leaned forward. With trembling hands—either from her sickness or sentimentality, Kazi wasn’t sure—Daria lifted the necklace. She flipped open the locket. A tear slid down her cheek.

For inside the locket was a photo of their family. A photo from the adventure album that an artificer at Marketplace crafted into the locket. It was to be a reminder for Daria, whenever she couldn’t remember their parents’ faces.

Smiling to herself, Kazi turned to Wolffe. He was studying his gray sweater. On it: a small, line-drawn wolf sitting on its haunches, surrounded by the box of his letter “W.”

“To match your tattoo,” she said.

His mute nod followed, and then he was picking up his second present. A frown creased his features.

“It’s a bioluminescent stencil,” Kazi explained. Wolffe turned the stencil over, its lissome body blue-silver and pointed tip glittering black. Her voice lowered as she said, “It’s for your notebook—to trace the names. The bioluminescence allows them to glow, so, when you wake up in the middle of the night, you don’t have to waste time fumbling for a light. You’ll always be able to read the names.”

Wolffe pressed a fist to his mouth. His shoulders shook slightly. Clearing his throat, he tucked the stencil back into the box, snuggled among its wrapping paper.

“Thank you,” he said roughly. His eyes sought hers; they shimmered in the waning sunlight, glossy with an unshed tear. “I appreciate it, Ennari.”

Kazi smiled softly at him, and when he tipped his chin down, she moved to his thigh. A hand rested on her knee; the other reached for her hair. Tentatively, Wolffe touched a cream pearl. One of half a dozen sweeping back her loose hair.

Daria had placed them that morning: a Ceaian tradition. The pearls represented prosperity and the dragons’ blessing. For only a dragon could dive to the pits of the ocean and retrieve the once rare treasure, bestowing it upon those who had proven themselves honorable and trustworthy.

With a half-smile and a lingering touch, Wolffe settled back into his chair. He offered her the remnants of his whiskey and she accepted a sip.

The burn was incomparable to the mounting warmth inside of her. The warmth swirling in her stomach and lazing through her veins. The burn nestled in her heart, an ember aglow.

Soon Neyti returned, her grin sheepish. The dark blue sweater hung mid-thigh and she twirled in it, as if she were wearing a dress. Kazi laughed, and it was the dimpled smile she received in return that had her own cheeks hurting. A good hurt, though. The type of hurt you photograph and store in an album, to remember always.

For some time, Kazi was content to sit silently. Wolffe nursed another glass of whiskey, courtesy of Fox, while she partook in a plate of spiced vegetables and thickly-buttered bread.

Neyti let Fluffy back in, ignoring Wolffe’s reproving grunt. The anooba wisely avoided the man, sprawling himself across Daria and Cody’s laps.

Reaching behind the chair, Wolffe retrieved a neatly wrapped box. He set it in her lap. A black ribbon, straight lines and curled ends, decorated the simple, white wrapping paper.

“It’s from me,” Wolffe said.

His voice was unnaturally tight, his eyes darting across her face as she beheld the box. Frowning at his odd behavior, Kazi untied the bow and slipped open the paper. The lid popped off. Her lips parted.

“I thought you’d like to add to your adventure book,” Wolffe said. Tapping two fingers against her thigh, he scrutinized her. “It’ll be useful for Neyti’s play.”

Kazi lifted the handheld holo-recorder from the box. She blinked at Wolffe. “And for the photo album you got Neyti.”

He shrugged, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Do you…like it?” he asked cautiously.

“This is perfect.” Wolffe breathed a quiet exhale, and she buried her face into his neck, kissing his throat. “Thank you so much.”

The tension in his body loosened, and the ghost of his smile brushed her temple. Kazi placed her hand over his heart. Sure enough, it was beating harder. Faster.

“Kazi,” Daria called out. Her sister glanced from the recorder to her face. “Do you want to take photos?”

They started with a group photo.

Daria took over. She positioned Fox near Cody. The former took a long look at his brother’s sweater.

“‘C?’ Does that stand for cun—” Wolffe shoved him in the shoulder and Fox chuckled.

Neyti stood in the middle, Daria to her left and Kazi to her right. The four men stood behind, their arms locked across one another’s shoulders. Kazi and Daria looped their arms around Neyti. Wolffe rested a hand on Kazi’s shoulder.

A few photos passed with the group and then Neyti wanted one with each person.

Photos of the two sisters followed.

Their next bunch beheld Kazi and Daria kneeling with Neyti, the girl’s arms around their shoulders. Kazi snapped a handful of Daria and Cody. The brothers gathered for their own shots.

Eventually Neyti pattered around the room, capturing photos of whatever she wanted. At one point, a flash interrupted Kazi and Wolffe talking. Neyti asked for another photo and Kazi obliged. To her surprise, Neyti motioned for Wolffe to join them.

A train of bioluminescent flowers served as their background. Kazi rested a hand on Neyti’s shoulder. Wolffe mimicked her. His other hand wrapped around her shoulders, so she let hers sneak around his waist.

The three of them stood close. Heat emanated from Wolffe. It flowed through her blood, languid and unhurried, a golden heat warming her cheeks. Warming her very soul.

Blue and silver lights winked.

The aroma of well-cooked food filled the space.

Smiles and laughter embraced them.

Kazi grinned as the flash popped.

A kiss beneath her chin and Kazi breathed a soft sigh; she felt Wolffe smile against her neck in response. Her fingers continued to play with his hair, her nails gently scraping his scalp. With a low hum, Wolffe ground himself between her legs.

“You sure?” he asked. A callused hand skimmed her bare thigh. “We can try again—”

“No.” Wolffe studied her through narrowed eyes and she shrugged. A difficult endeavor considering his heavy weight flattening her to the mattress. “I’m too tired, and I don’t think anything will come of it.”

They had spent the last hour trying: his mouth on her clit, his fingers inside of her. Eventually she convinced him to skip her orgasm and fuck her. He took her from behind, his pace steady, his grip on her hips demanding, his raspy praises promising.

But Wolffe came quickly, with a surprised, choked moan that made her quietly laugh. His orgasm left him trembling and slightly abashed.

Challenge hardened his expression as he flipped her onto her back. Sharpened his assessing gaze as he spread her legs. But Kazi waved him off, uninterested in more. Wolffe started to argue; her exasperated look convinced him otherwise. Instead, he settled himself atop her, his sweaty skin pressed against hers, his kisses languid, his hands wandering.

“We can use the vibrator,” Wolffe offered.

“Not tonight,” Kazi said. A long, slow lick across her nipple had her chuckling, and playfully she tugged on a curl. He gave her a lazy grin. “It’s been a long week.”

Wolffe traced his thumb across her jaw; his caress was tender, understanding. He lowered his face to the crook of her neck, rubbing his nose against a sensitive spot.

A contented hush enveloped the bedroom.

The somnolent heat of Wolffe’s body—the kisses he mouthed against her collarbone, her breasts, her neck—lulled Kazi to sleep. Idly, she skimmed her palms along his shoulders, massaged the knots across his upper back, brushed her fingers through his hair. Her touches grew slower, heavier.

So close to sleep, she didn’t notice his contemplative silence.

“Kazi.” Her eyelashes fluttered open. Wolffe was watching her; he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, tickling her earlobe. “Where do you want to go with this?”

Sleepily, she nuzzled her cheek against his palm. “What?”

“Our relationship. Where do you see this going?”

She frowned. “I…don’t know. But I like what we have.” She pressed a kiss to his palm. “I like you.”

I don’t want to lose you, she kept to herself.

Thick lashes lowered as Wolffe considered her. Something flickered across his face—something she recognized but was too scared to voice. Before she could question it, though, he was cupping her jaw and kissing her. His tongue was teasing; his hold was gentle.

She gave herself to his kiss.

The comm message blinked at Kazi.

Malaise knotted in her stomach as she stared at the familiar number. The persistent warmth from Wolffe’s affection dissipated, and she glanced at her bedroom door. Wolffe was downstairs, grabbing water for them.

Should she wait for him? Should she…include him?

No. This was her responsibility, and hers alone.

Swallowing, she played the message.

“Ms. Lucien, this is Licae Thurmin with Eluca’s Adoption Center for Young Girls and Boys. I have exciting news: We have a couple matched with Neyti!”

Masterlist | A Muse | Chapter 26

A/N: Artwork of Fox, Wolffe, Cody, and Nova (left to right) by the incredible @sleepingsun501!

Some more Kazi and Wolffe in bed (nsfw, 18+).

Information about Wolffe's Tattoo - Research and Commentary by @/sleepingsun501

"In all, I wanted this tattoo to represent different aspects of Wolffe's life and what makes him who he is.

"Within the outer arms of the mangopare, when seen facing downward from either Wolffe's perspective or someone else's, there are larger pakati that represent fallen brothers. Within the inner arms of the mangopare, there is a koiri that contains more pakati and ahu ahu mataroa, representing Wolffe's duty and ability to protect younger brothers or those serving under him. Both designs existing in the mangopare represent that Wolffe's brothers are what keep him going.

"The raperape in the center represents the balance between life and death, and how quickly brothers can be lost, but remain alive in the memories of those still living.

"The bulk of the designs sprouting from the maui fishhooks are another symbol of Wolffe's responsibility to lead and provide for his men.

"The ngutu kaka represent Wolffe being a commander and having to give orders. He has a responsibility to lead and to give orders that keep his brothers safe, and it's also a stern reminder that his orders may have lead to others' deaths in the past because the gutu kaka encompass the entire design, so he always needs to be mindful. But it is also apt that he is the one laughing the loudest in the picture."

#I Yearn and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari

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picturesofthegoneworlds · 8 months ago

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For one word prompts, I'm finally seeing some green in my garden again, so: Sage?

Oh, of course you know how to appeal to me. I hope this brings the vibes <3 ~

There was a variety of sage (still is, most likely) - sanctified – a herb that they would dry hanged from the rafters and tie into bundles like broomstick bristles, its own fibrous stem knotted in noose around the neck and ankles of the bale, burnt at the stakes and raised pitchforks to sweep away the wicked.

The smoke was what woke her, herbaceous floral distress signal, thrown through the open (paneless) window, accompanied by salt and circle.

They hoped to lure her out the front ‘door’ - she concluded with groggy post-dream clarity - strategized to trap her between saline force field and stone and mortar.

She stumbled over herself, gathered her few possessions. In time shorter the flames carpeted the threshing covering the floor, climbed into her bed to alight the straw stuffing the mattress, exorcised from there to cross exposed rafters to the mossy thatching comprising the roof-

She left through the vacant fireplace.

From a distance fled she observed the thick grapevine coiling of smoke as it billowed out above the forest canopy from a chimney that had crumbled decades ago.

Fire-licked masonry, tattered and scorched fabrics. Perhaps their malice left the cabin more befitting, well-suited, paralleled - outfitted in ash grey skin and soot ichor stains. The hunting party retreated but she could not return. She wondered who would take up residence in the hollow shell - as such a body must be an invite, must be a vessel (at least that was a lesson she was soon to learn) - but who would cohabitate with the spiders, birds, and other small mammals?

The thick smoke filtered through the pines

All of her grievances aside (packed away once again with her bedroll and cauldron), it smelt rather wonderful-

There was another sage (surely must be, still) - common - cultivated in window boxes and allotments, the leaves torn to marinade meats, to infuse healing balms, unbiased towards the dead or the living, transmuting itself for both in order to permeate soft tissue.

Laudna would grab handfuls of the silver-furred leaves; amass them in pocket-lint-lined-bundles of potpourri. Crushed the sage between her fingers, rubbed it on her pulse points, tied it with red twine dried in parcels of cheesecloth that she decorated around her person. Loose in her coin pouch, trinkets, her spell component satchel too, sewn into Pâté’s stuffing, flattened behind her belts and tucked into the front of her bodice and trampled in the soles of her shoes-

Never sure if it was necessity or in her head, not like when she wore flushing and sweating flesh, saturated, awkward teenager dealing with the stubborn stench of puberty or drenched in the fragrance of a farm-girl-butcher’s-daughter composting straw manure and coagulated pigs’ blood –

-not the perfume of The Ladies, certainly, refined with their age, aged mahogany liquor barrel vintage sophisticated palate, finery of silks satin lace velvet layers stored in lacquered marquetry hardwood armoires and mausoleum-sized wardrobes, aired in gilded vase and bouquet’ed marble surroundings, chandeliers ornately framed paintings in alabaster hallways-

She would feel rather self-conscious of it; of her differences - but continued her play with the worms in the forest regardless.

Then, for a short time, she slept with them.

Or rather, she woke to fall onto a heap moving with them, dancing drunken room-spin carpet shag pile of maggots and flies and mosquitoes and pillows of other larvae unidentified, turning familiar faces into fertiliser.

She was not sure if it was the memory, or the actual (un)working order of things

Permanently rotting

Hard to smell past the end of a decomposing nose

Perhaps it wasn’t so hard to tell for others?

Every time she passed the plant she filled her pockets and hands - ironically unaware of how time had stilled, that she was embalming herself - hoping it would fight the trauma-ever-present smell, that she could throw off the(ir) scent.

There is a sage that blooms violet throughout the summer - wild - like early humid evenings with head thrown back in laughter and perspiration jeweling tanned neck, clouds underlit and voluminous as purple-sunset tousled hair.

Imogen points it out with inquisition; at the gatherings of spears of blossoms lanced into soil growing not far from the bank of a river in the sun-bleached and crunching-under-foot tall grasses of an open field.

Seeds from dried out flower heads are carried along the docile breeze, ashes falling in hazing-heat ground fog, smithing dandelion diamond rings to decorate the fingers of the willows that lazily wave, bid farewell to the jewellery that doesn’t fit, allowing it to marry elsewhere between clumps over the grass and charms accumulated at the banks of the gently moving river.

“D’ya know what this is? Smells good.”

She kneels down with her palm held open to the purple blooming sage, presentory, skin offering the tan lines above her knees exposed from the displacement of the tops of her tall leather boots, a dandelion seed catching in the mass of her mane like a feather, her hand not designated to indicating specimen shading above one of her eyes squinted shut and the corner of her mouth raised baring teeth as she looks to Laudna with the midday sun over her shoulder.

It’s a bit overwhelming, the life and the bliss it elicits.

Laudna walks the few paces over to her, gives a quick inspection with the cast of her shadow.

Smiles in familiarity, nods to the plant in greeting

“Would you like to try it?”

Imogen starts the fire, uses the abundance of dried grasses as kindling. It smells just like the burning cottage had, does so every time. Laudna prunes the wild sage, gathering toothed leaves and small violet petals into her wicker basket, rolls the fragranced stems between the pads of her fingers and inhales, implores the herbal scent to momentarily mask the memory of deterioration as it once had. Imogen sets up the frame for hanging the cauldron, drives the iron spikes into the dry ground, fills it from the river, has to submerge her hand into the gathered water, fingers tweezers removing errant dandelion parachutes that she wipes onto her gauzy dress skirt, skin glistening with the cascading droplets that intuitively follow the scarring of her lightning marks and drip onto the floor, where a lizard with skin like stones flees under the weave of the trodden grass once her footfall returns, retreats for safer ground. Laudna questions whether it will turn to watch the fire or let instinct tell it to keep running-

“You’re quiet…”

Imogen states, offers a softened and upturned corner of her mouth.

Another feather of an airborne seed lands in her hair. A warning arrow shot through the window and puncturing her pillow, innards flying-

“I seem to be having a reflective day, sorry.”

“Anythin’ you wanna share?”

Imogen wears her empathetic apology in her brow, strained, and Laudna isn’t sure of how legible abstract memories are to her, if the furrow is from an attempt at unknotting the tangles, mostly it feels a weight too unquantifiable to know what to share with intention.

“Not now. I think this is good, something new.”

Present is good, a gift, shared (willingly, in part).

“I don’t dislike it…”

Imogen declares, staring into her cup as she swirls its contents under inquisitive-eyed assessment.

“It sounds like you are warming up for a caveat there.”

She pauses, holds the pottery between her hands on her lap.

“I’m not, s’just new. Tea back home was mostly black and made with lemons and alotta honey or sugar; was cold if the occasion were special-” she tucks her hair behind her ear as her eyes read the pattern of the blanket they had laid over the floor. Laudna wonders if there were birthday parties on picnic blankets out in the paddocks, waited by her father, Imogen and her childhood friends drinking sweet tea and running around in daisy crowns “-I guess we had other teas, but they were more for if y’all were sick?”

She doesn’t like to think of that.

The birds and the crickets carry on their background accompaniment, Imogen's hand returning to the other cradling the cup. Laudna feels as though she can see the slow turn of the skin on her exposed thighs from bronzed tan to sun-kissed red, convinced she is observing the freckles multiplying.

“This one is supposed to be good for anxiety.”

Imogen scoffs, it causes a nearby bird in the brush to scatter

“Yeah? Well I’ll report back on that - maybe we should take more with us just in case.”

Laudna laughs agreeably, enthusiastic. She knows how to make plenty of room for sage.

To follow the tea she also makes them a salad with the plant’s greens; a field-foraged thing prepared with borage and dandelion leaves, fleshed out with wild strawberries, a little olive oil and a little cider vinegar, served in a wooden bowl.

finishes the assemblage with an intentionally random flecking of the wild sage's violet petals, as though the bowl is a miniature diorama of the meadow in which they sit, olive oil babbling brook and cast iron fork fallen-tree bridge ready to present on a plinth, garden plans proposed by the landscaper in the study to a snooty gent stroking his chin and um-ing and ah-ing -

the hidden door that was disguised behind ornate wooden panelling, adjoining the ransacked and emptied floor to ceiling shelves of the study via dark stone corridors to the equipped and practical, cell-like laboratory-

She thinks that was the layout, at least - worries who she will rouse if she thinks too hard on it. There is comfort in the answer being left immaterial.

“All’a those times I was sittin’ in fields of flowers, I never really thought I could be eatin’ them.”

It is so nice to have someone she adores break up her ruminations.

“You had a lot of quality produce, there wasn’t really the need.”

"I guess not. Honestly, I think I prefer the salad to the tea."

Imogen licks her teeth, reveals a violet petal plastered over incisor that she shortly removes with a blade-of dry-grass toothpick, re-places the petal on the flat of her tongue, rolling it around her mouth and swallowing it.

Laudna stares.

"You like the flowers?" she finds herself leaning towards Imogen. Wants to tell her that for years this one was her perfume - pomanders adorned and concealed in tattered layers.

“They’re purple, ‘course I do.” she giggles, resting sat cross-legged with her weight behind her on her palms. Her head rolls towards Laudna, leaves their foreheads almost resting against one another, Laudna able to count each individual eyelash.

Purple, like the deep undertones of her hair. That much Laudna was very aware of.

“I should have guessed that that would be what caught your attention.” She brings her hand up and wraps her bony index finger in a ringlet of Imogen's hair.

“More like your magic, I was thinkin’…” She drawls, tenor lowered and breathy.

“And the taste?”

Imogen visibly swallows, cheeks flushing a further tint than what the sun has already given - it makes Laudna feel overly aware of the networking of her own heart and veins.

Imogen clears her throat

"’s’good - kinda familiar."

Laudna feels overwhelmed by the compelling need to kiss her - so she does. Her hand with finger still tied in ringlets of hair sprawling over Imogen's chest as she responds with a squeaked moan that reverberates underneath it. Her lungs halt in their expansion as her mouth is sealed with her own, the increasing pulse at the base of her neck decipherable carved runes under the tip of her fingers, her heart thudding against her palm.

Familiar. Laudna can muse on that in the future, certainly.

She sits back from Imogen - already breathless and chest heaving, lips kiss-swollen - and appreciates the sight she helped curate; the picture of her looking a little dazed on their tartan blanket with the surrounding flora densely reaching above her shoulders, crowned in multi-coloured paint strokes.

“Familiar? And here I thought that was your first time eating a flower.”

Causes her to blush furiously

“Don’t you use ma’words against me.” She pushes Laudna playfully at her shoulder, pretends to look away in dissatisfaction, bottom lip pouting.

“I apologise, that is your advantage to keep. My words are but humble ammunition for your armoury.” Laudna exaggeratedly plays acting pious at Imogen’s half-turned back, Imogen turning back to her with one eyebrow raised and a laugh she is clearly trying to keep within her stomach murmuring at the corners of her lips.

"That so? Well alright, how would y’all describe it?"

She puffs out air towards her head, hairs previously put behind her ear falling back out of (or into, depending on which of them you ask) place, sits forward again, arms folded. Adorable. Laudna is aware of how susceptible Imogen is to her teasing, always so charming and charismatic, and so often a bumbling mess - and it is intoxicating - to exercise any sort of outcome on such a gifted sorceresses’ disposition, is doing her best to learn what the differences and distinctions are between that and her own longer ongoing situation…

Focus.

Despite the more imposing associations, she can still remember

Can still remember her father butchering the pig, her mother in the kitchen slicing its fatty flesh into patchwork diamonds, stuffing the incised indents with sage and garlic and other seasonings, the slab of flesh tied with butcher’s twine around a whole peeled onion and roasted, skin crackling, the three of them sat around the oak table, talking about the small things, Laudna's mother showing off the basket Laudna had weaved that day, presented like a cornucopia on the kitchen table top, holding that weeks offering of vegetables.

She would describe it as herbaceous, sweet, and floral. Peppery, perhaps like a minty aniseed. Earthy. Mulchy. Rich as the soil it grew from. Could also admit to it being 'like the first home I'd made burning down, like the incense I'd crush between my palms and rub behind my ears so as to not offend any people who would be so kind as to get close enough to notice the death’

what she does say is

"nostalgic."

not a lie - though she hopes in futures she won’t be drowned marinating in it, the complex layering of all of the ingredients and flavours, hopes one can remain dominant, bountiful and nourishing.

Imogen there, seen over the end of a nose that did not rot and fall off. She’s sure that it can change.

#Imodna #Imogen Temult #Laudna #Critical Role #Bells Hells #Emma writes #Prompt fill

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