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dilf-docs · 16 days ago

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Le Pedí Al Mar Y Al Sol Que Te Trajera

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: vacations are supposed to be fun! and with a hot older famous boyfriend? now we're really talking.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (yum), pwp, p. in v., fingering, pussy spanking (ooc i'm sorry i just want a man to do this to me), creampie, virgin!reader (sorry if this is kinda unrealistic for a first as i two i'm a virgin; in the curb we all fam), aftercare, spanglish ofc!!!

word count: 2,865 words

side note: so, i modified the request a bit bc idk pedro's friends like that (i just know omar apollo can tower over me wait what). check the og request here. reqs still open as we enter 2025! happy new year, dilf town citizens: pushed this drabble last minute as a lil' gift for you before the year ends! :) thank u sm for being part of it, my journey on tumblr is just getting started!!!!!!!!!!

Hace tiempo que quería yo sentir esto que siento.

They say dating a star and having to share him with everybody else is the hardest part, but to you, it's having both of your vacations occur simultaneously.

Finally, after months of shooting so many projects for the next year, your boyfriend is free.

Vacations are fun! They're supposed to be relaxing, especially after leading such a busy life as yours: juggling between work, studies and a relationship with world-renowned actor, Pedro Pascal. Yet, you can't help but feel nervous, fiddling with the loose strands of your skirt.

Pedro wants you to go alone, which means just the both of you: a little escape before Christmas Eve, as he and his friends have already planned their holiday together.

Doesn't matter how many times you tried to excuse yourself, he was determined to make you go with him. Besides, let's get real: it's not like you can say no to him. So now here he is, both of your passports in hand as you both are ready to board your plane to Mexico, where the rest of his friends will meet you a week later. Yes, more nerves to add on the schedule.

"If you don't quit that shaking of yours, I'll extend our vacation two more weeks" Pedro threatens once you're seated, but it's devoid of any malice. He's a bit far from you (he also insisted on the VIP flying part; you're just fine flying tourist, but can understand why he isn't), so you can't count on his touch to comfort you. "Didn't know you were afraid of planes"

You sigh, "I'm not"

"Ay, cariño. Are you afraid of me then?"

"No" you laugh nervously. You are, but not for the reasons he thinks.

It's the very first time the two of you will be fully alone. For obvious reasons, a whole week at the beach is much more intimate than just the dates you've been in. But here you are, already seeing the sand and water beneath you.

"Like what you see?" he jokes.

"Yeah" you look back at him, sincerity washing over the expression on your face. "I do"

If there is one thing you're sure of, is your love for Pedro. You'll just have to wait and see how this goes.

As of now, everything has gone well: sun, water, diving and lots of new photos and videos on your camera roll. You've gone swimming and danced on the bar of the hotel you're staying, some extra drinks on your system. You've also sunbathed under the same sun you've watched go down, in the most beautiful sunsets you've ever seen in your life.

But here comes the hardest part: the night. Sharing a bed isn't hard: it's something that's happened before, one time even staying in his house for two days, all because he insisted.

This time is different: the way his gaze lingers over your bare legs, the same way he's looked at them when the droplets of water slide down them. The way he licks his lips, like he's starving and the most deliciously tempting meal stands before him. Mantaining eye contact like it's some kind of dare, just as he's done since you've landed, using it to disarm you little by little.

You don't think you can't take it anymore.

You lay down on the bed, and he leaves the book he's reading on the night table next to him, all his attention directed towards you. Yeah, you're afraid, he can sense, but apparently not that afraid to wear a dainty nightwear that gives a delicious peek of your breasts.

"Something you want to say?" you ask, almost daringly so.

"Say no" voice low, barely a whisper that could come across a breeze of wind entering through the open window as it stirs the courtains. "Want, yes"

You gulp. "What do you want, then?"

Shouldn't taken the bait.

"You" comes quick, like it's the easiest answer there ever is.

The rest of his answer comes in the form of hungry lips capturing yours, devouring them in a clash of desire against your own, even struggling to breath due to the animalistic borderline savage way Pedro's eating you out, his tongue battling inside your mouth while trying to explore every corner just to taste all of you on his palate.

"Pedro" you moan his name out when he bites your lip with a bit too much force, metallic filling your taste buds. It's all so hot, and you're too turned on to think.

His roaming hands itch to touch every available spot of soft skin your body offers, tracing first through your collarbones, and then leaving the task for his lips to complete. There goes a trail of kisses that go down your neck, teeth nibbling the sensitive skin until it turns red. You whine against his hold, big hands keeping you under him, back pushed against the soft mattress and silk sheets.

You gasp for air, lost in the fire, when suddenly his forgotten hands touch you down there.

"Wait!" you shout, mentally slapping yourself.

"¿Qué pasó?" he exclaims, scared. "Did I hurt you?"

"N-no" you're quick to deny, voice wavering as you seat up on the bed. Your cheeks soon flush, as there's regret when you say. "I'm sorry"

"Sorry for what?" he tenderly cups your cheek. "Just tell me what happened"

"What happened is, I fucked up the vibe. I'm sorry, P. Didn't mean to stop you like that"

"¿No te estaba gustando, cariño?" he's questioning again.

"No" your answer is more firmly this time. His face morphs into a bit of hurt, and then you think your answer a bit more. "Ah, no. I mean, yes! I was liking it. I meant no as in no, it's not that why I stopped you"

"Then, why is it?" he grows a little impatient, but shows no such thing, rather focused on helping you out. "You know you can trust me, right?"

"I know" you smile sadly, insecurities washing over you like cold water.

"Then, tell me" he scoots closer, his perfume getting in your nostrils. Had he wore it again for this? God, what an evil little horny creature.

"I'm scared" you confess finally, the warmth of his receptiveness giving you a sense of security. His brown eyes soften, and you feel tears brim in the corner of your eyes.

"I know" he repeats your words, kissing you softheartedly, nothing compared to as before.

"No" you look directly at him, ready to take in every reaction his face will have. "I don't think you do"

"Amor, por favor-"

"I'm a virgin" you cut him off, panic rushing your answer.

"You are?" almost immediatly, giving no opportunity for silence to settle in.

You nod, slowly.

He sighs, sounding relieved. "And here I thought you didn't love me. Que te daba asco acostarte con un viejo como yo"

"No!" you deny hastily, then laugh. "Of course I love you, P. On the contrary, I was the one scared. Don't want to fuck it up on my first"

The energy changes again, as a flame sparks within your orbs. He looks surprised.

"Just because I said-" he cuts himself off. "Look, y/n, mi vida. I don't want to force you, yeah? I didn't know you hadn't- Listen, if you aren't ready, I'll understand"

"I am ready" clear and convinced, without a doubt.

His eyes circle between lust and love, "You want me to be your first, mmh baby?"

You nod, and he's back at the kissing and nibbling on your neck and collarbones.

"Please say it"

"I want you, Pedro. Quiero que seas mi primera vez"

Those sweet words of yours, an invitation not even the strongest man could deny.

"Let's start slow, yeah?" his fingers travel down to your panties under the nightwear, removing them and tossing them out of the bed, even with your pout. He kisses it off, wasting no time after to see your clit exposed. "Looking so sweet, angel. And needy" he gets closer, taking a better look at the wet mess that coats in between your thighs. He takes a whiff, intoxicated with the smell of your arousal dripping in waiting need. "Tell me if this is okay, yeah? I'll stop if it hurts"

Your breath hitches the moment his middle finger touches your puffy clit. Pedro runs his finger up and down, not adding much pressure to let you get used to it (kissing and eating each other out was all you had ever done). You whimper at the feeling as he repeats his action a few more times.

"Please, keep going" you plead, barely managing to not squirm at the overwhelming new sensations that shoot right through your cunt.

He begins to rub slow circles, making sure to add the right pressure onto your clit, then circling it, all while keeping eye contact, adoring the new expressions and sounds he's getting from you. You realize and shy away, embarrassed all of the sudden at the way he looks at you.

"Don't" he holds you by your chin with his free hand, "I want to know how you look when I please you"

You whimper, letting him do his own thing. He starts leaving sweet little kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your hole clenching at nothing.

"Think you can take more?" he asks, "want more?"

Two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices.

"Good girl" he praises when you only yelp, savouring the new feel of his digits inside of you. Then, he drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking them clean. "Taste so sweet too"

"N-need more" you whine, desperate beneath him.

"Yeah?" This your first and you're already this greedy? I think I can get used to it" he laughs in adoration. "Let's try something better, yeah?"

Your body suddenly jolts, his big palm flat against your pussy. Pedro circles his whole palm across your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto it. You moan, back arching at the overstimulation.

He feels a little pervy, enjoying the way your tiny young body squirms beneath his caging body for of him. Nonetheless, he continues to rub you while you release more dirty sounds cascading out fo your filthy greedy lips. Your arousal keeps dripping like a broken pipeline, now smeared all over Pedro's palm, filling the room with slippery sounds.

"Mhm" you can't even speak, the exquisite combination of pain and pleasure reducing you to a moaning mess.

Pedro slaps your pussy twice, wet smacks bouncing off the walls.

"That's my girl" he then gently blows on your swollen bud, pressing a light kiss on it after. "Ready for it?"

It meaning his hard tent hidden under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it. He sees the hesitation in your eyes, but you're quick to dissmiss it.

"Are you sure you are ready?"

"Just do it" you demand, without knowing the consequences of your words, or the effect you have on him. Overall.

With needy fingers, you're fast to strip him out of it, admiring the size as much as you admire his now sculpted body. Jesus, you could build a cult out of it.

"Now" he cups your cheeks, fingers digging onto the skin, "I want you to look at me when I fuck you, yes? Don't dare to look away"

Pedro positions himself between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. Then, he thrust inside you, filling you completely. You cry, trying to adjust to his size while your nails dig on his broad back, as he claims you, makes you his. Only his. Pedro'hi's hips snap forward with precision: every thrust is deliberate, each movement calculated to make your first as pleasurable as he can, despite the pain that's shown in your tears or the little drops of blood that fall onto the sheets.

"Shit" he pants, "tendremos que pagar por eso"

He grips your thighs, holding you steady as he pounds into you.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he moans, your tight untouched walls now stretching to adapt to his girth, "like you were made for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he firmly holds you. Your vision goes foggy, mind numb at the burning and pleasing sensations. Despite that and lack of experience, you meet his every thrust, your bodies moving as one.

Your core contracts around him with every motion. "You fuck me so good" you mewl, music to his ears.

"I know, baby" he chuckles, "sólo lo mejor para mi princesa"

Fingers dig into your skin as he guides you with precision, right as he wants you to be. You feel the intensity of his deep inside of you with every movement, his hot laboured breath against your ear.

"Doing it so good" his voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine. "Just for me"

"Just for you" you mindlessly pant out, the sensation of having all of him inside you, nothing separating the skin from skin, igniting a fire that spreads through your core. Your breasts bounce with each motion, Pedro's eyes never leaving yours, dark orbs locked onto your gaze as you urge him to go faster, drawing in a sharp breath as your body adjusts to the new rhythm he's providing, rapidly obeying.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your bodies clashing onto one another, flesh against flesh echoing softly.

"Your body is perfect, so wet, so tight for me" His words send a wave of pleasure crashing over you, making you moan loudly, your head falling back, "me tienes loco"

Pedro's weight grounds you as he begins to thrust deeply, each movement deliberate and unrelenting.

"Tell me you want this, us" the words catch you off guard. "Will you take all of me?"

"Yes" without a thought or doubt, answering as you whine and clutch at his shoulders with his more urgent thrusts. "All of you, always"

You notice his hips snapping forward, more energy as he pounts into you. "Good girl" praising you again, voice thick in arousal and rough, "so good for me"

Despite being your first, you can feel what would be your orgasm building, closer and closer until there is no holding it back.

"Pedro!" you scream his name, body collapsing around him as you come, stars reaching your closed eyelids.

His movements become more intense and sloppier, breathing ragged as he chases his own release.

"Espérame. Stay there for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping tighter as he continues to pound into you. "Ya casi" his thrusts become erratic as he nears his climax, "almost there, baby"

You feel his body tensing as he comes inside you with a deep groan, seed spilling into you without wasting a drop.

"That's right" whispers against your sweet neck roughly, voice breaking as he collapses over you, trying to level his breathing. "Eres mía, only mine"

You're whimpering, body exhausted from the whole session you had.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired" you sigh, "but I don't think I can walk"

"We'll get you a wheelchair someway" he jokes.

"You think is funny? Ruining my holidays?"

He leans down to press a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up" you mumble out a tired no, but Pedro's picking you up with his strong arms, taking your body to the bathroom. You wrap your legs instinctively around his waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

"You know what? Your fans were right: you do have a slutty little waist" you mock.

"Right" he blushes, embarrased as he takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet. "Open up, baby" he grabs some tissues, trying to clean up the mess you've made between your legs. "Así, justo así, bebé" he parts your hair to the side lovingly, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Done, my pretty baby, look at you"

You hum, eyes threatening to close.

"I see you're not an after-sex talker. Come on, I'll take you back to bed" he picks you up again, your head leaning against Pedro's V line as he caresses your head. "Hope you don't mind the smell"

"I love how you smell" you mumble out in a drunk like state.

"Okay then" he chuckles, "let's go back to bed" taking you out of the room, gently placing you the mattress. He then pulls a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, dressing you in them. He coos at the sight of you, sleeping peacefully despite what you did before.

He finally lays next to you, lovingly lifting up your arm to put it around his waist. He pulls the sheets over your bodies to keep you both warm, in the chilly room thanks to the beach's air.

He feels you move, snuggling closer to his chest to seek warmth.

"I love you" whispered, not expecting you to answer or hear it.

When you snuggle closer, he's sure you do.

#dilfistquickwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fluff #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedropascal #pedro fluff #pedro smut #pwp #pedro pascal pwp #pedro pascal fandom

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tarotsoul · 19 hours ago

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ghost in the wind — part one

summary: all your life, your presence had been nothing more than a faint kiss of a breeze—nothing impactful, nothing worth noticing. so why did it hurt so much when that remained the case after moving to prythian?

warnings: a bit of angst, feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness, brief mentions of sexual assault

word count: 3.8k

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“No.”

There was no room for argument in Nesta’s tone, no room for anything other than agreement or else she’d reign the Hells on all of them. Her mate be damned, she would not leave the mortal lands without you. Not again.

“If we take her,” Cassian gritted his teeth, “I am inviting her husband to wage war on our kind if he so chooses.”

Nesta bared her teeth. “Rafe is nothing but a coward and a sorry excuse of a man. What kind of war could he wage? If she stays, then so do I.”

Cassian blanched at his mate, his teeth grinding. They were only supposed to have stopped through for no more than a week, to ensure things in the mortal lands were restoring to somewhat of the normalcy they once had before the war.

He blinked at Nesta, noting the way she bore her feet into the solid ground, as if planting herself there like a tree weaving its roots into the soil. He knew the love she had for her cousin, her only friend, as she’d once told him. The guilt she’d felt when she first left the village, left you, hadn’t eased in the slightest.

Perhaps this was the reason she insisted on joining Cassian on this third-grade mission. He cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the small stone house you were occupying, and closed his eyes to ground his breathing.

“We can’t just bring her back without consulting Rhys first.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Screw Rhys. I’ll deal with him myself if I have to. She is my family, Cassian. My friend. Every night, he beats her and abuses her and takes from her what she will not willingly give. She is coming back with us.”

Cassian took another grounding breath, the iron will in Nesta’s eyes granting not even a fraction of negotiation. There was too much going on right now, too much to sift through to rebuild their city and legions.

But Nesta was right, and despite not knowing you, he couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving a vulnerable soul with a monster who took and abused like Rafe did. Especially not when he saw the pain on his mate's eyes for her cousin.

“Ten minutes. Tell her to pack necessities only. We will need to leave within the hour if we wish to be gone before her husband returns.”

Nesta didn’t cast him a second glance as she turned and sprinted into your home. You scrambled back from the window, heat painting your cheeks that you’d been caught watching them, straining your ears for a sliver of their conversation, to no avail.

She said nothing of your snooping, only grabbed your hand and dragged you to your sleeping chambers. “Pack only what you need. You’re coming back with us.”

You blinked, lungs seizing the air you tried to breathe. Leaving? For the Fae lands?

“Ness,” you tried, but she held up a slender hand to cut you off.

“Don’t. I made the mistake of leaving you behind before. I won’t do it again.” She couldn’t look at you. Not at the bruises marring your skin, or the split lip you’d earned yourself two nights ago for leaving an unwashed pot in the sink.

So you didn’t think twice about the consequences of being caught fleeing. You didn’t think twice at all as you stuffed minimal clothing into a satchel along with a photo of your beloved mother and the worn journal you kept hidden beneath the mattress.

Nesta allowed you a moment to compose yourself as she returned to her mate just outside your home. Home. As if you could ever have truly referred to it as that. This was not a home. You hadn’t had a home since your mother passed ten years ago. Since you married Rafe and your whole world fell apart.

You had prayed. Prayed to whatever out there that would listen. Hoped and hoped that one day your salvation would arrive, that you’d be finally spared from the misery you’d been subjected to for so long. From the pain and terror and loneliness.

You hadn’t realised you were absentmindedly twisting the iron band on your ring finger until the small stone in the centre scratched at your skin. That Gods damned ring that bound you to the monster you called your husband. That iron cage that kept you as his possession instead of his love.

Yet the fear… the fear at the idea of removing it sat far too heavy in your chest. The fear of him finding you, punishing you. But he wouldn’t find you, you knew that. Rafe would never dream of crossing that veil into the Fae lands. And even if he did, you were sure he’d be eaten alive within the first breath he took in that world.

When you met Nesta and Cassian outside, they both had a satchel of their own on their shoulders; stuffed to the brim of bread and cheese and skins of water they’d raided from the kitchen.

The General nodded at you once as you approached. You wondered if you’d done anything to offend him, or perhaps he found this—you—to be an unnecessary burden to him and his day.

“Thank you,” you managed to utter, and both he and Nesta felt the pure relief and gratitude in your voice.

Cassian’s resolve softened, a sympathetic gleam in his eye and he hated himself for a moment for even considering leaving you here alone.

“It’ll take us half a day to reach the wall,” Nesta began, unmoving from Cassian’s side. “When we pass, Azriel will meet us at the border in Spring. Cassian cannot fly the both of us.”

You couldn’t help the apology that slithered up your throat. “I don’t mean to be a burden—“

But it was Cassian who growled in response, “You are not. You are family, and we don’t leave family behind.”

You walked for hours, legs sore and tired and throbbing from the stamina you lacked. But you didn’t want to stop, to ask for a break. They were kind enough to have brought you, you needn’t add any more time onto their already long journey.

So you kept your mouth shut and willed your legs to move, one in front of the other. Hours passed and you could feel that familiar panic rise in your stomach. Nightfall was approaching, which meant Rafe would surely be home by now…

You didn’t want to allow yourself to think of that. Of what he was doing after finding the home empty with nothing but your wedding band on the dresser, the only proof you ever even existed in that house.

It was Cassian who made the call to stop for a break, as though only now remembering how weak a mortal body was compared to a Fae’s—or in his case, an Illyrian.

Nesta had told you many things about her family in Prythian; the members of the Inner Circle, the beautiful city of Velaris and all the wonders it had to offer. Despite the relief you felt for leaving, the anxiety of entering the Fae lands was unmatched to anything you’d felt before.

You rested for only thirty minutes, the three of you eating your way through an entire satchel of food and two skins of water. Perhaps Nesta and Cassian were as tired as you were, though you figured not.

And by the time you reached the wall, night had surrounded you in complete darkness, nothing but a ripple in the air to suggest you had met the end of your homelands.

It was opaque for the most part, but the air seemed to glimmer and fold, as if you were looking magic dead in its face. You allowed your fingers to reach shakily for it, a fearful thought stopping you from making contact.

You turned to your cousin. “Will it hurt?”

She took your hand. “No, though when we pass through you’ll need to stay as close to Cassian and I as possible. Your scent—it’ll be a beacon to all sorts of creatures that roam freely within the Spring.”

Nesta shrugged off her jacket and handed it to you. “It’ll somewhat mask your scent. Just long enough until we meet with Azriel.”

You shoved your arms in the jacket as you put it on over your own and took Nesta’s hand again. Her eyes met yours, something akin to relief and sorrow flickering in her gaze. You didn’t want her pity. And it cleaved your heart into two knowing that you could never do anything to repay her for this, to express just how far your gratitude stretched.

Cassian and Nesta took three steps forward and as you followed, the air rippled around you…you breathed in the new life and second chance you’d been given.

But nothing could have prepared you for what awaited on the other side of the veil.

The first and only thing you saw were a set of sharp, gleaming white teeth before you were shoved to the ground with a hard thud, your head hitting against soft grass with a thump.

Snarls and grunts and shrieks surrounded you, and in the time it took to regain your bearings, Cassian and Nesta were sheathing their daggers once more as the…thing that had attacked lay dead on a field of daisies.

With eerie calmness, you assessed the creature. It was huge, twice the size of Cassian and about four times the size of you. Dark black fur covered its body and ruby red eyes that lifelessly stared into your very soul.

For some strange, obscene reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Not as you breathed in the fresh soil beneath your feet. It felt as though your world had been turned on his axis, as if only now could you see clearly.

Then you heard it, a distant swooshing in the wind. You angled your neck toward the noise, eyes not needing to squint in the darkness as the stars illuminated the sky so beautifully.

Your brows furrowed, but you did not look away. “Something is coming.”

Both Nesta and Cassian followed your gaze then, stepping closer to your still body. The figure came closer, your initial thoughts of it being a large bird being dismissed as a pair of wings much like Cassian’s, only larger, flipped through the midnight air.

You smelt him before catching his face. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint. There was a hint of mint and something sweet like cinnamon as the glorious Illyrian landed swiftly onto the grass.

Azriel.

You remembered him, the Shadowsinger. Silver streaks of the moon casted across his brown skin as he approached swiftly, those dark and languid shadows moving across his form and snaking the earth until they halted at your feet—assessing.

“So glad you finally joined the party.” Cassian said in greeting, though Azriel paid no mind to the tone his brother offered.

Those shadows wrapped around your ankles softly, slinking your skin as they felt you out. You felt something then, a tug in the air that seemed to pull the shadows back to Azriel’s towering form.

That was when you looked at him, breath stolen from your lungs. He was beautiful. A warrior, that you could tell. Solid muscle covered every inch of him, dark black hair that sat messily on his head and swept down his forehead and brows. Hazel eyes met yours, his lips parting—no doubt at the state of your bruised face.

He was beautiful when you’d seen him previously on his brief visit to speak with Lucien… but now, it was as though you were seeing him truly–with so much clarity in your gaze it almost blinded you. Everything about this land did.

“There are more coming, so unless you want a fight, I suggest we leave.”

His tone held no room for argument, yet he spoke in an unrushed drawl, as if these creatures were the least of his concern. He was as large as Cassian, daggers strapped to his leathers, so you supposed they likely posed little to no threat to him and his skills.

“Can you winnow?” Nesta asked.

It wasn’t lost on you how overlooked you were, despite being the reason for his presence. But like most of your life, it came as no surprise to be somewhat invisible. Cast aside. Unnoticed.

Azriel shook his head. “We’ll need to fly to the border between Autumn and Winter, from there I can winnow us back to Velaris.”

Cassian nodded, reaching for Nesta. “We’ll go first, make sure the area is safe. Follow us in five minutes.”

Nesta looked at you, a silent conversation between you both.

You’ll be okay?

I’ll be fine. If you trust Azriel then so do I.

No other words were exchanged when Cassian hauled Nesta into his arms, spread his magnificent wings and shot to the skies. You watched until they were a mere dot beside the stars before returning your attention to the Shadowsinger who was already offering you his.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” He said politely.

You wondered if he’d remembered your name from your first and last encounter almost a year ago, or if when Cassian sent word for aid he’d reminded him of it.

Either way, you offered a timid smile. “You too, Azriel. I apologise for troubling you with this. All of you.”

He shook your apology off. “It’s no bother. Are you hurt anywhere?”

You knew he wasn’t referring to bruises and cuts you already adorned. It seemed as though stepping through that veil gave you more clarity, more understanding of silent thoughts and everything else around you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Good.” He nodded, and those shadows threatened to reach for your ankles again.

Azriel didn’t pull them back this time, only took a tentative step closer. “I apologise, they’re no threat. Not to you.”

You nodded, gaze upon them as they slinked further up your body and wrapped softly around your arms. Azriel almost bristled at the way you remained so calm. He wondered how much about him and his family you knew. He supposed Nesta had told you much through letters and such.

You didn’t reply, couldn’t bring yourself. You knew how deadly the Inner Circle could be to their enemies. And yet these shadows touched you with more softness than your husband ever did. You didn’t let that thought show on your face.

“Everything feels different on this side of the wall,” you admitted, a little breathless.

Azriel remained looking at you. “Everything feels…clearer.”

You waved the shadows off your body gently, silently shooing them back to their master.

“I’ll need to fly you like Cassian did to Nesta,” he began. “Are you afraid of heights?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. But the thought of being held by him the same way Nesta was by Cassian… that thought scared you. And not because it was Azriel, but because of the sheer closeness and intimacy that was needed for it.

You swallowed it down. “No… I don’t think so.”

He nodded, taking another step closer with an outstretched hand. “You can close your eyes if you wish, and I’ll fly slowly, I swear.”

You heard it then, the pattering of paws on the grass, of claws digging into the soil and snarls of breath into the night. You looked to Azriel, eyes a little wilder than before. He nodded, as if he already knew what you were about to say.

He held out his hand further for you to take, and you took a hold of his marred skin, calloused under your softer palm but you didn’t balk, didn’t pull away as you got a clearer view of the scars that adorned him.

Azriel hoisted you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. “The take off will be harsh, make sure you hold on tight to me.”

And he wasn’t lying. Azriel bent his knees and shoved his full weight into the earth before you both shot into the starlit skies. You didn’t close your eyes, you wanted to see everything this world had to offer. A world that was always at your fingertips but never accessible until now.

The wind seemed to whisper to you, gently caressing your bruised skin and promising a better life. A new life. As though the elements welcomed you home.

It was only moments of uphill force until Azriel evened out and began a steady speed through the clouds. His scent enveloped you, almost overbearing as it encompassed all of your senses.

You worried for a moment then. If his scent surrounded you this way, you wondered how badly yours did to him with such heightened senses. You tried to hold your breath for longer than usual, tried to steady your heartbeat, afraid he’d hear it.

“Are you okay?” He murmured against the shell of your ear. Because even though you tried to mask it, he could sense your every feeling, your every tremor and sigh and sob.

Tears streamed down your face as he flew you both north toward the border between Autumn and Winter.

“Thank you, Azriel.” And you thanked him and thanked him and thanked him. Until your voice grew hoarse from the sobs and you let yourself realise that you were finally free.

Finally safe.

In the transitioning week of being escorted to the Night Court, you had hardly spoken to a soul. For the first two days, you appreciated the silence, the safety–basked in it, even. Nesta had shown you to your room in the House of Wind, an incredible home built into the walls of a large mountain that overlooked the city of Velaris.

“Should you need anything,” Nesta had said softly, “ask the House, it listens.”

And she had been right. The first night, you thought of a hot bubble bath and a gentle breeze had sifted through your sheer curtains, guiding you to your personal bathing chambers where a hot bath had been drawn, scents of calming lavender and jasmine coating you.

You only saw Nesta twice after that, once when she brought you some of her favourite romance books and again, two days later when she told you Feyre and Elain sent their love and well wishes.

She’d had the family's healer, Majda, check you over for any untreated injuries, and when she came up short she offered you a few tonics for the discomfort and encouraged you to rest before sending you back on your way.

You shouldn’t have expected more, shouldn’t have longed for more. You supposed Nesta had done her part enough–saving you from Rafe and bringing you here. And yet, despite the House tending to your needs and the souls of the romance novels…you felt just as alone as you had in the mortal lands.

You hadn’t seen Azriel since either, nor Cassian. You didn’t have much right to ask after them, to thank them again. They had their own lives and roles to fill, you knew your rescue had been nothing more than another third-grade mission to them.

By the fifth day, the realisation had begun to sink in. That you’d been moved from one lonely home into another. Perhaps that was the course your life was fated to take–alone, unnoticed, nothing more than a ghost in the wind, nothing worth acknowledging.

You wrote your thoughts into your leather-bound journal, the only form of release you had for these dark emotions. Yet every time the pen lifted from the parchment, you felt heavier than you had before.

You were yet to leave your bedroom, often sitting at the window seat that overlooked the lights of the city, wondering what life awaited down there. Wondered if you’d ever get the opportunity to explore it. Nesta had mentioned that the House was warded from winnowing, the only way out was to fly or descend the ten thousand stairs.

But you couldn’t fly, and you wouldn’t make the steps down either. You weren’t a prisoner, you knew that. But Nesta had done her part, saving you, bringing you to her and Cassian’s home. You were not her responsibility, not anyones.

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel trapped, restricted. Moved from one stone building and into another. Perhaps that was what finally made you venture out of your room, barefeet padding across the cool floors.

You followed the winding staircase to a lower level, noting the ornate furniture that decorated the large space. A crackling hearth caught your attention, so inviting and warm in front of a plush couch. The House seemed to beckon you to it, a gentle breeze against the backs of your bare legs and it made your short nightgown sway.

Following it, you sat on the couch and a thick blanket materialised and draped itself over your legs at the same time a steaming mug of tea and a new romance novel appeared on the table beside you.

You smiled softly, warmth spreading in your chest as you thanked the House.

An hour or so had passed, not that you were for certain, but the House remained silent. Nothing but sips of your tea and flipping of pages could be heard along with the crackling of the hearth.

For a moment, you felt at peace in your own company. Completely content for this time to sit and read and know you wouldn’t receive a beating or worse for it. You stretched out your back, stifling a yawn as a pair of soft footsteps greeted your ears.

Your eyes widened, an unnecessary apology already on the tip of your tongue, though for what you weren’t sure. That had become the norm for you, apologising for your every breath.

But it was not Rafe that stepped out of the shadows, of course not. It was Azriel, in all his glory, wings tucked neatly behind his back and you counted the seven blue siphons that adorned his leathers.

“Azriel,” you breathed, a sheepish smile on your face.

Finally, some company. Someone to acknowledge your presence and to perhaps converse with. You shuffled on the couch, making to put your book down but all Azriel did was give you a terse nod in greeting and a thin smile before walking down the hall and out of your sight.

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. You should be used to this by now. You were used to it. But you couldn’t control that tiny thread of hope in your chest that things could be different. That you could be accepted and wanted and noticed.

For the eighth night in a row, you were left in the dark with nothing but the crippling loneliness and aching of your soul to keep you company.

a/n: thank you for reading!! this is the first instalment of this mini-series that i literally got the idea for two days ago lol. it'll be around 5/6 parts, smut will come and a few twists you won't expect!! unfortunately i'm unable to get my old page back (rhysazriel), which means most of my previous writings have been lost but i'll likely repost the ones i have saved in my google docs in the late future (plug!az being one of them)

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated!! <3

#gitw #azriel #azriel imagine #azriel oneshot #azriel fluff #azriel angst #azriel smut #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar oneshot #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar fluff #acotar angst #acotar smut

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entitled-fangirl · 6 months ago

Text

I'll find you.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: the high Septon visits Winterfell, and Cregan would rather do anything else with his time than spend it with the priest.

Warnings: religious trauma, bad theology, blood, fighting, vulgar words and name-calling

Masterlist

.......................................................

"I don't want him near her."

"My lord, please. You and the Lady must greet him most welcomingly. He's an important ally."

Cregan gritted his teeth. "He's a fucking fiend. I'll not have him anywhere near her. I'll greet him myself."

The maester sighed, "You cannot keep her away from him the entire time. It raises suspicion."

"I find myself hardly caring."

"Speak to her on it, my lord. Perhaps you'll come to an arrangement."

…

"You're worried about a septon?" She asked in a confused manner.

"You've ever had your gut wrench at the thought of someone?" He asked.

She leaned against the back of her chair with her head tilted in thought, "I suppose so."

"Septon Garren has no regard for life itself. I'd make a better priest than him."

She rolled her eyes, "We're his hosts. We still make the rules here, Cregan."

He sighed and sipped his ale. "I know that. Still, I'll not have him disrespect you."

"I'll stay at your side. How does that sound?"

He let out a long breath, "You won't wander?"

"I won't."

"Fine. Fine."

…

Septon Garren exited his carriage with a scowl that looked like it was permanently marred to his face.

He looked around at Winterfell with a look that screamed he was unimpressed.

Cregan stepped forward, keeping Y/n behind him, "Septon. How wonderful to have you join us."

He grimaced, "Yes. Yes. Very well."

Cregan had to hold back a sigh, "I've not seen you since I was young. Might I…" He paused, forcing himself to continue, "Might I introduce my Lady Stark?"

Garren's eyebrows shot up at that.

Cregan reluctantly pulled her in front of him, his hands never leaving the woman's body.

She smiled and held out her hand, "A pleasure, Septon Garren."

Garren stared at her hand with an unimpressed stare.

She awkwardly lowered her hand and leaned back into Cregan.

Garren finally spoke, "'Tis colder than I imagined."

Cregan gritted his teeth in frustration, "Yes, well. You did decide to visit at the beginning of winter. So, I imagine it's much colder than King's Landing."

Y/n felt the tension, "Might we go inside? You must be weary from your travel."

Garren's eyes wandered over her slowly, as if seeing something that she didn't. "Yes. That would be fine."

Cregan sighed and pulled Y/n along with him, leading them into Winterfell.

…

"He doesn't seem that terrible, Cregan."

"You've no idea, my love. He's like a spider."

She scoffed lightly, "C'mon. He's unpleasant, yes. But you make him seem like a demon."

"He's the closest you'll find."

She sighed in frustration. "I am going to fetch my book from the library. When I return, I expect you to have pieced yourself back together."

…

She picked up the book she had abandoned in the library, turning around and jumping in surprise.

Septon Garren stood in the doorway.

Just staring.

She held the book to her chest, feeling exposed for some reason. "Septon. Forgive me. I didn't hear you."

He grunted, continuing his stare.

She was unsure of what to do but stare back. He was in the door way. What else was she to do?

She made herself walk the various shelves, pretending to scan for a book.

He continued his stare.

She finally sighed, "My husband told me you've been the high septon for three kings now."

Garren grunted, studying her.

She looked around, very uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. I should return to Cregan."

He moved one step to the side and grumbled under his breath, "Flee from me, Eve."

Her brow furrowed, "Hmm? I'm sorry?"

He stared with a glare now.

She quickly made it back to Cregan.

…

Cregan had decided to give the man a single chance due to his wife's words.

So he sat over his dinner, trying his hardest to converse with the man.

"My friends in the south tell me the weather has been fairing nicely this season."

Garren grumbled, "Aye. A fair amount of rain."

Cregan nodded and sipped his wine, "I see. We're all snow. I understand the feeling of rain."

Y/n leaned forward with an intent to speak, "Tell me exactly what it is you do?"

Garren's brows furrow, "I'm the high septon."

She bit her lip, "Yes. But… what exactly does a septon do?"

He frowned, "Girl does not know the jobs of a septon?"

Cregan's chest puffed out on instinct.

"No, I'm afraid I don't. Please tell me." She tried to reason.

"I… I communicate with the Seven, and relay the message to the people. I perform exorcisms and offer sacrifices to our gods, old and new, to please them."

She hummed, "Oh… is that all?"

Cregan held back a chuckle.

Garren frowned but said nothing.

…

Late that night, she sat up from the bed, unable to sleep.

Cregan snoozed loudly as he always did.

It seemed to be the only time he was in a state of pure relaxation, so she never dared to interrupt it.

She pushed herself from the bed and ran a hand through her messy hair in an attempt to calm it.

After throwing a robe on over her small clothes, she left the room to spend her time in the library until morning. It was a common routine for her to do so, and none of the servants ever batted an eye when she did.

But when she walked into the library, she froze to see Septon Garren there. She let out a soft gasp that caught his attention.

He turned, a new look in his eye, "Come. Sit."

She held her arms over herself, "No, I couldn't. I'm hardly appropriately dressed. I… I did not expect anyone else up at this hour."

He titled his head, "It does not bother me, my child. Sit."

She forced herself to talk slow steps to him, sitting down on the sofa next to him.

He watched her closely, letting his eyes wander over her.

"Couldn't sleep, I suppose?" She asked awkwardly.

He stared at her, debating something.

He leaned towards her, grabbing her wrists and pulling her arms away from her body, making her expose herself more to him.

She watched him in freight as he took her in more.

He finally spoke, "'Tis a shame."

"W…What is?"

"The curse of women."

She let out a breath, "I… I'm sorry."

"You believed you could seduce a high septon? You're certainly a bold one."

She lightly scoffed as her hands began to shake, "W.. What?"

He grinned a sick smile, "You've succumb to your nature, girl. Don't play the fool when your septon discovers so."

She tried to pull her hands out of his, to no avail, "Stop."

He bit his smile back from growing wider. "I bet you've fooled the Stark lord." He leaned in, "No man but a holy one can outwit the dealings of an evil cunt."

"Let me go."

He stands, pulling her up with him, "On the contrary, girl. I believe I know just what to do with you- something Cregan Stark doesn't have the guts to do."

Her eyes welled up with tears, "I haven't done anything… I haven't… I haven't done anything."

One of his hands moved up to her hair, gripping the strands at the back of her neck harshly. "Let's go, Eve."

She could only comply as he began to drag her by her hair with no remorse.

He pulled her from the library and began to pull her down the corridor.

She began to cry, "Stop… please… pl… stop."

He laughed, "Now Eve uses her tears to plead for forgiveness. It's typical."

She tried her hardest to pry his fingers from her.

"You see, every woman is a reincarnate of Eve, sent by Satan to test us all. It's a man's job to keep her evil at bay." He leaned into her ear, "And yours has done a poor job of it, it seems."

She misstepped, tripping herself and falling to her feet.

He reaffirmed his grip on her hair and tugged her up harshly.

She let out a loud shriek in pain.

He pulled her the rest of the way up, letting her go and slapping her across the face so hard, she fell again.

She cried at the pain that throbbed in her face and head. "I didn't… I… Creg… please."

Garren grabbed her by the hair again, "Don't worry. I'll beat it out of you, girl."

She hiccuped, desperate for breath through her panic and tears as he continued to drag her down the corridor.

"Please stop… I… I'll do anything… let.. let me go."

He gripped her chin tightly to pull her face to him, "You'll feel better after a proper beating, I assure you."

She felt the smallest but of determination, and she spit in his face.

He let out a grunt and took a step back. His anger grew tenfold suddenly, and he let out a full swing on her.

She screamed at the pain as she fell to the floor another time.

Blood seeped from her nose profusely.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" Cregan's voice boomed from down the hall.

He stood in his usual cloak, no doubt thrown over his small clothes.

She hiccuped but made no effort to move from the ground in worry of having him see the blood.

"My lord," Garren began, "Your wretch attempted to seduce me in the dead of the night! You've not done your duty!"

Cregan's eyes widened in pure anger. A fire was lit behind the pupils. "My what?"

"Your wretch."

Cregan immediately began swinging, throwing a series of punches at the man.

She sat herself up, looking down at her shift and robe that now were stained with her blood. She let a small whine at the uncomfortable feeling of the liquid running from her nose.

She let out a grunt and pushed herself up on shaky legs, immediately leaving as quickly as she could.

…

"Let me in."

She turned to look at the door, pausing the patting of the wet cloth to her nose.

She couldn't let him in like this.

"Leave this for the morrow, Cregan. Please."

She heard his feet shuffle.

"I'm not leaving this door until I'm done with the conversation."

"Well, I do not wish to converse."

"Let me in, or I'll break it down now."

She quickly got up, moving to it and unlocking it. But just as quickly as she had gotten up, she moved back to the vanity.

Cregan stepped in, assessing the room before his gaze settled on her, "My gods."

She turned her head to him, immediately beginning a sudden sob at the look in his eyes.

He took a step towards her, but she shook her head, "Stop… d… don't please."

He paused, "You've got to let me see."

She shook her head more, "Don't come near me."

Cregan felt offended, "Love, why not?"

"I… I'm… nothing. I don't… I can't take more today… please."

His eyes softened, "What?'

She sniffled, "I can't take another beating, please, my lord."

He felt his stomach drop. "I… I'm not gonna hurt you, my girl."

Hot tears continued down her face, "I didn't mean to. I didn't know he was there…"

He nodded, "I never doubted you. I never did." He took a slow step forward, "Can I look at you?"

She studied him in deep thought before nodding.

He let out a breath of relief and knelt in front of her, taking her face in his hands gently.

"Nasty hit, huh?"

She scoffed, "That's all you've to say?"

He grimaced, "I have much to say, trust me, pretty."

When her snivels multiplied with the promise of more tears, he quickly corrected himself, "I'm not angered with you."

She looked at him through a blur of tears, "You're not?"

His brows came together, "How could you think that? Of course not. A man beat my wife, and you think I'm mad at you?"

"If you believe him.."

"About what?" He asked incredulously. "You know the horrid things I'll do to that man for what he said?"

She sniffled, "I'm sorry."

He shook his head, "Stop that."

She nodded, "Yes, my lord."

He let out a frustrated sigh, "No. Don't say that."

"What do you wish for me to say?"

"Doesn't matter. You're to call me whatever you wish. You know that." He paused, "Has he brain washed you so easily?"

Another tear fell down her cheek, "I'm just lost."

He nodded and wiped the tear, "I'll find you then. How's that?"

She let out a shaky breath. "Please."

He took the cloth from her hand and tilted her head up as he began to dabble the cloth across her nose.

She spoke after a while, "You can't kill him. He's the high septon."

"He touched you. I'll do whatever I wish with him."

"You'll make an enemy of King's Landing."

"Don't care."

She sniffled, "No?"

"Do you think I'm a formidable opponent because of my worry of making enemies? No." He rubbed a tender spot and apologized, "I'm a formidable enemy because I don't stop until I get what I want."

"And what do you want?"

"His head on a spike and you in my arms."

She smiled, "You have one of those things already."

He chuckled and threw the cloth onto the vanity, "Indeed, I do."

She gasped when he picked her up and took her to the bed.

"In the morning, I'll have them both. Until then, I'll enjoy what I have."

...................................................

Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn

#cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #creagan stark #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x female reader #cregan stark x y/n #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #drew drools over cregan stark

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tachvintlogic · 2 years ago

Text

The Pitstop

It was a normal day at the Justice League Watchtower Satellite. Heroes were milling about, Batman was monitoring Earth from the deck, there was an astronaut tapping on the glass, Flash was joking with Martian Manhunter...

What, what was that 3rd thing?

Batman looked up and saw in front of his view of Earth was an astronaut, wearing NASA's latest suit design. He stood up which alerted Flash and Martian Manhunter to the strange sight.

He tensed as the astronaut began to phase through the walls and entered the deck. Batman was able to activate the intruder alarm when the astronaut removed their helmet.

The astronaut was a caucasian male approximately in his early forties. There were bags under his blue eyes like many of his own cohorts, and he had black hair as well.

"We need to dock."

"Excuse me?"

"Who are you?" asked Martian Manhunter.

The astronaut's face brightened immediately upon noticing Martian Manhunter. "Oh! I'm part of the manned Mars mission! We just launched and were on our way, but something is making a weird noise, and we don't know what it is. Since we're so close, can we just dock one of your garages so we can figure out what it is and fix it?"

Batman recalled that NASA had launched less than a few hours ago.

"How did you get through the glass?" asked Flash.

"I'm the token metahuman crewmember. So can we dock or not?"

"Of course," said Martian Manhunter, looking at Batman. And what was Batman supposed to say? No?

In the parking garage, Martian Manhunter was talking the other crewmembers while the Watchtower's engineers and the metahuman astronaut, who they learned was named Danny Fenton, inspected the space shuttle and tried to figure out what was making the strange noise.

Batman watched from the sidelines as the others bustled about. They had been at it for an hour, and Batman wondered if he should ask Tim to come by and help. He had informed Tim of the development while the astronauts were docking. After all, he had been involved in some of the designs of this particular spacecraft that were done by Wayne Aerospace.

He was doubtful that Tim could help that much. After all, in all likelihood it wasn't something he designed that was the problem.

Then, one of the engineers fiddled with something and Batman suddenly heard loud rattling.

A crewmember who was listening to Martian Manhunter startled and their eyes widened. "That's it! That's the sound!"

"What it that?" asked Batman.

The engineer pulled out a piece of equipment that had the Wayne Enterprise logo on it. "This module is broken," she said, "it could be repaired but honestly," she inhaled sharply, "this thing is a hot mess."

Mr. Fenton jumped and landed on the ship like the artificial gravity didn't affect him. When he saw the logo on the broken equipment, he shook his fist at the sky.

"Of course it's something by Wayne Industries! We give them half our budget hoping they're share some cool alien inspired technology like whatever they did to build this satellite and instead we get half-assed garbage!"

Batman made a point to not share the latest gadgets with the US government (he didn't trust them), but he wouldn't call their products that weren't built using alien tech garbage. That seemed a little harsh.

"Seriously, was the person who designed this sleep-deprived when they made this?" Suddenly Batman found the walls and floor to be incredibly interesting and looked away.

"Oh that's par for the course when it comes to the stuff they give us."

"I am so sorry."

As they discussed how to improvise a replacement for the equipment quickly enough to avoid drastically altering the astronaut's flight path, Batman got a text from Tim.

So I'm free now. Did the astronauts figure out what was wrong or do they need me? - RR

He texted back.

They figured it out. The engineers have it handled. - B

#dpxdc #astronaut danny #tach's ficlets #tach's fics #I'm so mean to the dc characters

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seravphs · 1 year ago

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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — ASTRONAUT! GOJO x MISSION CONTROL! FEM READER

Your job description entails taking care of one (1) astronaut on his way to Mars. It doesn’t say anything about falling in love with him.

wc — 1.6k

tags — the beauty of space (and Gojo Satoru), rom com, fluff

When you’re assigned to Gojo Satoru, the first thing you hear is ‘good luck’. It’s Nanami who says it. You suppose he would have strong feelings, being one of the few men who were going up there with him.

They’re in the news constantly now. Of course they would be - brave pioneers of the new frontier. The first men to attempt a Mars landing.

Even for you, who sees them every day, it’s hard not to get caught up in the mythos of it. Glory burns bright and beautiful around them, a halo born of the knowledge that they’ll someday be in history books. Maybe you’ll be there too, a footnote riding on the coattails of their fame.

They take care of humanity’s future, and you take care of them. Mission Control doesn’t have the esteem the astronauts do, but your jobs are just as important. You’re proud of the work you do.

Though sometimes, your work is just silly. He is, anyway.

“Helloooooo? Mission Control, come in.”

“You’re not supposed to use the main line for personal matters, Satoru,” you remind him, a smile twitching at your lips. Director Utahime thinks you’re too soft on him, but you can’t help it. It must be terrible to be stuck up there for months, even if he says he loves it.

You’ve seen his interviews. Gojo Satoru, golden boy of the astrophysics department at one of the most prestigious universities in the world. A prodigy, the youngest ever Nobel laureate for his work in quantum particles and space time.

When he first declared that he would be going on the Mars mission, the world erupted in an uproar. He had transformed an esoteric field of dusty archives and chalk formulas into something real people cared about and tuned into his radio show to hear, even if it originally started because people loved his charming face.

It was too risky. No one wanted to lose such a young talent to the vast and uncaring cruelty of space.

Gojo heard these concerns, shut down his radio show, and appeared outside headquarters the next day without an appointment.

Some say he’s pushy. Some say he’s determined. Whatever they think, one thing is true. Gojo Satoru gets results, which is why administration always lets things slide when it comes to him. Even when he clutters up the main communication line trying to talk to you.

“If you wanted to get me alone, you could just say so,” he jokes, before he switches over to your private comm.

“Mhm,” you hum. You’re distracted, doing your daily check on his vitals.

“Looking at my heart again?”

“Yep! All good, though I’m going to ask you to take a double dose of vitamin c tomorrow.”

“Come on,” he moans. “They’re terrible. You’d think with all the scientists we have they’d manage to make it taste a little more like actual oranges.”

“You know how hard it is to make things that last in space,” you tell him.

The thing about Gojo’s genius is that it’s hard for him to understand others. He can do anything if he puts his mind to it, so hearing ‘no’ and ‘it’s impossible’ simply doesn’t compute to him. It’s why he started his radio show, or so he told you. He dreams of teaching people to see the world through his eyes.

His beautiful eyes.

Your cheeks heat. That’s not something you should be thinking about, but lately, it’s been getting harder and harder. You spent almost all your time with him, after all.

As much as you try to be professional, you’re not immune to his stunning beauty. You know the voice on the other end of the line belongs to an man whose features are nothing short of otherworldly. He could be a model if he wasn’t an astronaut. He could be anything, actually, but you know why he chose this.

The first time you heard Gojo speak on space, you fell in love a little bit. With him and with the cosmos.

He’s the one who teaches you that the stars we see are already dead and gone. That light and time are intertwined in ways you didn’t understand before, that the little pinpricks of gold in the distance have fizzled out years ago and are reaching you now only as a eulogy.

You tuned into his radio show on a whim, wanting to get to know the man you’ll be working with better. You stayed because his love for the universe is magnetic.

Gojo’s favorite thing about space is infinity. He was a proud supporter of the alien theory. There had to be some life out there, in that great vastness. Anything is possible in space, he says. There might even be a planet where he can float or unleash devastating destruction with just a flick of his fingers.

Before long, you were listening to his voice explain worm holes and cosmic inflation any spare moment you got. He was with you on the commute to work and in the shower while you scrubbed your hair. It was Gojo’s voice that lulled you to sleep every night, slow and relaxing in his special bedtime series.

So you’d known him long before you met him. In your first real interaction, where he was so quintessentially Gojo in a way that completely put Utahime off, you laughed. His eyes widened, surprised by your reaction, then his lips split in a toothy smile.

“At least one of you has a sense of humor,” he quipped, making a lifelong enemy of Utahime and a lifelong friend of you.

You’re the only one who can put up with him, so when Gojo had been chosen for Project Ares, you landed an adjacent job as his handler in Mission Control. You’d known you’d work on Project Ares for a while now, but not that you’d be working so closely with him, or that it would feel so right.

Of course you would be his handler. It was as natural as Gojo becoming an astronaut, which you’d always known he’d manage. It’s Gojo, after all. He would go change the future of humanity, and you’d keep him tethered to Earth.

It had been a relatively easy few years, for a space mission anyway. Anything short of death was considered optimal in those conditions. You hadn’t realized you’d miss him like this, however. All this time, and so much of it was only his voice. In a way, it was reminiscent of the days before you’d met, hearing a beautiful mind work through the radio.

“Oh, Houston?” Gojo calls through the line, singsong. “We have a problem.”

His lighthearted tone doesn’t deceive you. You’re up in a second.

“Satoru? Satoru? Come on, talk to me. What is it? You okay up there?”

“I’m experiencing heart pains,” he says, letting out a low grunt of pain. “Palpitations.”

Your blood runs cold.

Space is Gojo’s passion. You’re happy he gets to pursue it. But in these moments, you wish he’d never heard of astrophysics because in space, you can’t reach him. If he gets hurt, all you can do is talk to him.

He’s said he appreciates it.

“It’s nice, you know? Gives me something to listen to other than the voices already in my head.”

“Should I schedule a virtual visit to the psychiatrist, Satoru?”

You joke around, but you know that’s all you can be for him. A voice in his helmet.

Your hands are creeping towards the switch that’ll open your communication line to Nanami. At least if something happens, Nanami can actually get to him.

“Fuck,” Gojo whispers. You freeze. You’ve never heard him talk like this, his voice low and raspy with pain. “It hurts.”

“Tell me where it hurts, honey,” you murmur back, your voice instinctively lowering into something syrupy and sweet. Comfort comes naturally to you. You’ve always been a doting personality. It’s part of why they chose you for this assignment, other than, as you learn later, Gojo’s insistence that you be his line to Earth. “It’s going to be okay.”

“It aches, sort of?” Gojo says. “Happens when I hear- ugh.”

“Hear? Hear what? If you can’t tell me, I can’t help you, sweetheart.” You have no idea where these pet names are coming from, but they just burst out of your mouth, as if tenderness for him is uncontrollable. Is it because you’re scared it’ll end like this? The chance of whatever you feel for him dying unspoken terrifies you. You wish you’d told him sooner.

“Happens when I hear your voice,” he says. Is that nervousness you detect in his voice?

Suddenly you have a very clear idea of what he’s playing at.

“Satoru,” you say very calmly. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to call Nanami and you can explain it to him.”

A flurry of panicked noises on the other end. “No, wait, no, don’t do that! I can explain. Just. Give me a second.”

Ragged breathing.

“Okay,” he admits. “I didn’t think this through.”

“Satoru.”

“I’m sorry! You know how I am!”

You do. Which is why you’re not immediately calling Utahime over to reprimand him.

“I was going to wait,” he says. “This isn’t very romantic.”

“I would say that’s more because I thought you were going to die from a heart attack in space than anything else, but go on.”

“Sorry,” he says. “I love you.”

You were half-expecting it. After all, he’s right - you do know him. Somehow his straightforwardness still catches you off guard so badly your knee jerks and slams right into your desk. It’ll leave a nasty bruise when you check in the shower later. Most things are too soft to be picked up by your mic, but that was definitely loud enough.

“…You okay?” Gojo asks, hesitantly.

“When you come back to Earth,” you explain to him in clipped tones, “I am going to gut you. Then we are going to go on a date.”

#sera writes #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojou satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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corvidaes-crow · 6 months ago

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ChoiCale Northern Duke AU

Northern duke Cale Henituse with his long hair frosted over and tangling in the winter wind, fur cape thick and warm and pitch black, weighing down his shoulders. Northern duke Cale Henituse who stays shut in his castle unless drowning his lonely sorrows (apparently) and does not care for the people he protects (apparently), but stumbles back through the gates at unholy hours of the night or morning reeking of alcohol, clothes stained through with red in the dim candle light.

Choi Han stumbles onto the lands of the remote duchy after fighting through a thicket of winter demons and a pack of timber wolves that took him as easy prey, and the village welcomes him warmly. They celebrate his presence, because they think he is the one who has guarded their village. It's not strictly wrong, but Choi Han has not been in the Henituse duchy for long enough for his fights to warp into local legend.

He has not flung himself off cliffs to lure demons to their deaths. He would not call the way he wields his sword fae-like. Only thrice has he saved fellow travelers from the snow-borne perils. But... they call him a hero and give him food and rest at their eternal bonfire, and that is good enough for Choi Han not to question it too much.

The rumours spread far enough that the duke himself descends from his mansion at the peak of the wintering mountains. When the village leader hollers the name 'Cale Henituse' through the snowy roads, the merriment goes silent. Choi Han is slower to fear and trepidation than the youngsters he is talking to, so he turns and meets the duke's rusted gaze head on.

"So you're the hero," comes Duke Henituse's first greeting, and his voice makes him seem younger than the ageless ice of his expression. Not that it is ageless ice anymore - Duke Henituse's bloody lips twist and splinter his face with a scathing smirk. "I suppose you're looking for a reward, then? Well, what have you?"

The children shrink away from the duke's imposing stare, and Choi Han feels his own agitation rear its head in response. "The fire, your Grace. I come on behalf of another village who has suffered decades of chill now. Can you share some of it with us?"

Duke Henituse's gaze narrows as his sneer widens. "Which village?"

"Does it matter? The cold is impartial, your Grace, it will freeze any that has no hearth like this one." Choi Han tips his head at the merrily blazing flame that burns bright enough to heat the entire village and light the roads in the eternal night. "The fire can be transported without weakening the hearth. I can do it myself!"

"You can try," Duke Henituse snorts. "The Eternal Winter does not take kindly to flame in its midst."

"Harris is-"

The logs in the bonfire crackle and spit, collapsing in a blast of flame. Around them, the villagers flinch away with hands raised against the light. Cale Henituse draws his spine straight and bares his teeth on a fogged breath, embers refracting in his fathomless gaze as his hair and cloak billow in the surge of heated air - a dark burgundy stain mars the right breast of his thick blouse. "Harris Village? Let them be consumed by the full force of the Winter! Let them shatter! Let them die!"

Choi Han raises his drawn sword at a defenseless man, and knows that no villager will stop him. "I will take some fire back to them."

"Ha!" the duke laughs, head thrown back derisively, "Then take some wood with you too! Harris will have precious little dry kindling. Give them our fire."

What a challenge that is. "I will," Choi Han snarls. The fire burns, and even at this distance he is starting to sweat. He takes a lamp from one of the children who offer, and a handful of large candles from another. When he glances over his shoulder, the Winter Lord is gone. Back to his lofty manor in the snow with him, then.

Choi Han thanks the children and bids the rest of the villagers adieu. The older of them shake their heads and chuckle like it is some inside joke. "No need to say goodbye, lad. Best of luck to you."

The fire snuffs out the moment he steps past the tree line.

He walks the twenty minutes back to the village in near-darkness. It is not hard; the warm glow is the brightest beacon they could have. The elders smile when he sheepishly greets them again, amused yet disappointed for his flame. Choi Han leaves and returns four more times before he slumps on the village's pub bench with his head in his hands. The bartender claps him on the shoulder in commiseration and shouts him a jug of mead. "The flame cannot leave the village's bounds. Not without his Grace's permission."

Choi Han sips on the spiced liquor and frowns. "Then that's what I'll do."

The trek up to the manor is treacherous; there are crevasses and cliffs obscured by blinding white, and Choi Han cannot imagine the frosty duke shimmying up the narrow ledge of this particular cliff to get home. But Choi Han has faced far worse getting to the village of the eternal hearth in the first place. He makes it up mostly unharmed, though his fingertips are raw and bleeding.

The manor gates are wrought iron. The windows are dark. When Choi Han raises his hand to the metal, it parts for him as if the hinges were oiled only minutes ago. Soundless and weightless. A single room lights up. Choi Han looks over on instinct. The sharp, willowy silhouette of Cale Henituse stares back.

#i Cannot start another long fic before i finish at least one of my ongoing ones istg #fusion of a bunch of source medias with winter/arctic settings that i half-remember #cale henituse #choi han #choicale #lcf fic #lcf #northern duke chch #part 1?

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qiutls · 2 years ago

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TNGDH 004

Evening came, and at the study of the Grade Duke of Blake, Cashew Nut was having a theme park party. If we tone it down a little, you could call in a hamster feast.

Okay! All right! Is there anyone else who wants to get on the Ferris wheel? We'll bring you up to the top in a blink of an eye. Get on now and get a view of the Northern Grand Duke's office!

This kind of opportunity will not come twice. At the top we can also play disco music... Oh wait a bit, isn't this wheel a lot more like disco pang pang rather than a Ferris wheel? Anyway, hurry and come quickly, to Cashew Nut Land, the land of fantasy.

I shook my head in silence and turned the wheel by hand.

Rattle. Rattle.

The wheel which was too heavy to spin at first began to roll quickly once it was accelerated. It seems you can turn it with just your hands. No, these hands can also be called as feet. My front feet.

[ㄟ(˘ o ˘)ノ] shrug emoji

...If I spin it by hand... Isn't it also called rolling the wheel? basically the term used for the quest was the same as rolling the wheel, the quest means to run as a hamster to make the wheel turn, but Soohyun is trying to roll the wheel with just his hands

No, look at this small and fragile limbs. You unscrupulous system. I'm telling you, if I run with my feet, I'll die.

Hey, excuse me. Mr. System.

Are you listening, you punk?

[ 0003/1000 ]

I really can't complete the mission like this?

[ It's a system without conscience!ꉂꉂ(ᵔᗜᵔ*) ]

Ah...

I began to spin the wheel quickly in order to break it. Yet my heart didn't feel any better even when I heard a rattling sound of something breaking.

This damn Ferris wheel. No, this hamster wheel. How long would I have to run on this. Can't you just pretend to not know and be a little bit more tolerant.

No, it's Kyle's fault. Who puts a wheel like this without even considering the size of his pet hamster? You can't even find a guinea pig that would enjoy this size of a wheel!

This shitty life! Damn it!

I was busy venting my anger when all of a sudden, the door opened without a knock. Of course, it was Kyle, the owner of the estate.

No, what kind of estate is this? Is it possible to oversee all of it with just a quick turn. It didn't even take him a day...

I got caught... Come to think of it, wasn't I supposed to be taking a nap.

Kyle Jane Minehardt walked toward the hamster house with great force. He walked confidently enough to be called the leader of the North.

What about his outfit? Thick capes to keep out the icy wind, armor made out of both iron and leather and boots that come up to below the knees to help you tread the snow.

A handsome man who seems like he can't be stopped by anything, his whole being is marred by winter.

"Cashew Nut?" He called me in a puzzled voice.

I would be confused as well, if the first thing I see when I come back is the hamster wheel spinning all alone and the hamster went missing. Of course, I didn't actually vanish, I just went to the back to take a breather.

"I can see your butt."

No wonder the house seemed a little small. I came out of my hiding place with an awkward expression.

"I want to spend time with you right away, but... Unfortunately, there are many documents to check today so it's a little difficult."

― Eek [ No thanks! ]

"That's right, I'm sad too."

― Eeek [ No! I'm not sad. ]

Feeling sad my ass! I hope through this personal time, you are able to reform your inner self. Let's stop kissing and singing silly praises, okay?

Kyle looked as if he wanted to take me to his hand and kiss me. However, it seemed as if what he said about being busy was not a lie. He just looked at me with a longing gaze, and soon sighed and sat down in front of his desk.

That's right, I doubt you were given the title of a Great Duke just because you were good at using your sword.

If it were that way, the throne would've been handed through a duel and not as a hereditary succession. Whether you like it or not, you have to endure the boring paperwork for the betterment of the estate. It's the same whether it's here or it's back in my world, it's hard to make ends meet in both places.

Still, you're pretty cool... So professional

I sat between the sawdust and watched Kyle.

He was diligently writing something on a roll of parchment paper. I didn't know how his exact handwriting looked like because I couldn't see it from here, but I think it would be very neat.

He went to work in serious manner as if he was completely oblivious to my existence.

Even a guy with just a month left to live works so hard.

Well, I guess, you never really know when your life's about to end. I shook my knee and stood up. Somehow, I felt like I had to do something.

...Of course, I'm not doing this just because I finished napping and there was nothing else to do.

That's right, if you have to run a thousand rounds anyways, just finish it earlier. What kind of humans are we? Koreans! Hurry up! the last line is a Korean slogan, back then foreigners thought Koreans were always in a hurry and Koreans used that as their slogan

I was determined to carry out a "fast-paced operation." How am I supposed to complete it fast? As a developer, the answer to completing things quickly is... Do it overnight.

A developer is a creature that's used to working overnight. Let's burn our bodies like we're in Pangyo's lighthouse. Pangyo's lighthouse is a term used in KR, it symbolizes how offices never turn off their lights because of overtime shifts

[ I think that's a good idea! (*´╰╯`๓) ]

Don't laugh. I don't like it.

[ (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ ]

I got on the wheel with a deep sigh. Then using all my physical strength, I ran on the huge Ferris wheel with my four feet.

I've already become a dog after drinking so much, and now for the first time I've become a hamster spinning a wheel... It's a relief that both have four legs. the first line is a KR saying, that if you drink too much, you become unruly like a dog

Clatter.

After a few laps, I finally got a sense on how to efficiently run.

I got the feeling while running around earlier, it was more convenient to just leave your body to the flow and run at moderate speed than to speed up at the beginning and fail to keep up. But the wheel was heavier than I thought, so it was really hard to keep roll it with your feet.

Rattle. Clack. Clatter. Splat... Oh... I fell down. I fell flat on my face. I took a quick glance at Kyle.

You didn't see it right?

Yeah, I don't think he saw it. Kyle was still reading the report with a serious look on his face. I don't know if he's that good at concentrating or if he was just indifferent towards me.

"...I think I'm done."

A few hours passed just like that. Kyle massaged his stiff neck and stretched it side to side. At the same time, I also smelled an unusual scent from my mouth. It was time to rest, I didn't want to die of overwork. search keto diet bad breath if you wanna know more about it

[ 0213/1000 ]

That's right, after resting a bit, that guy will go back to his bedroom, and I'll be alone till morning.

Rattle.

The ceiling of the hamster house was opened.

Whatever, do as you please. You'll put me down anyways and go to bed after saying some silly comments. Then I'll do my best and run for a thousand laps, turn into a human, set aside my life as a hamster and receive the next quest.

It was the perfect plan, assuming I can ride 800 more laps just like earlier.

"Well, let's take this out."

...Huh, w-wait a minute!

Hey! Don't take my wheel.

I grabbed the wheel reflexively and hung on it. What kind of wheel is this? Why are you taking it with you?! Why are you taking it all of a sudden, you didn't even care when I fell from it earlier!

I put some more strength on my small paws hanging from the wheel. Even though Kyle changed directions while pulling up the wheel, I snuggly hung on it. However, my rebellion didn't last for long, he carefully grabbed me with his other hand and separated me from the wheel.

― Squeak! Squeak! [ Hey! You bad guy! ] "I know you liked it, but no more, Cashew Nut. I'm worried that your knee joints would get damaged."

― Squeak! [ Is this your first time seeing a hamster spin a wheel?! ]

"Yes, yes. You must be sad, but it's all for your health. Don't be too unhappy."

Kyle left the wheel far away and gave me a kiss on the belly. I turned and slapped him with my feet on the face and rushed to the system.

Hey! Honestly, shouldn't this quest be invalid, how am I going to complete it without a wheel!

[ Let's become an active hamster! (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ]

I clenched my fist again, feeling my insides boil. If only I could see the system in front of me, I would have hit its head.

What? An active hamster? The kind of hamster that gets caught by the Northern Grand Duke and gets nonstop kisses?

If you want that kind of hamster, then you transmigrate! To be honest, even if I had transmigrated to Serena's body instead of here, my fate would be better than now. Even though she goes through many ups and downs, it isn't as frustrating as being a beast who cannot even speak.

My human rights. Give me back my human rights, this damn world!

"Anyways, you must be hungry. You've rolled the wheel so much, you must be famished."

Now he thinks I'm grumpy because of mere hunger. Once I stepped on the sawdust, I huffed and forced myself as close to the corner as possible.

Kyle picked something up from the drawer on this table and soon he hang the macadamia above me.

"You can eat it."

He spoke so gently, if people overheard, they would have thought he was speaking to a lover.

I grabbed Kyle's fingers with my small hands and bit it, that's right i bit his finger and not the macadamia.

Then a system window popped up in front of me.

[ More than anything, I'm not a hamster, but a human. I don't do barbaric things like biting. ]

That's what I said to the system.

Yeah, there was a time like that. But Bae Soohyun died yesterday. I am Bae Soohyun who was born anew. Now this Bae Soohyun bites people. Meat is better than macadamia.

And isn't this just what people call karma? If you don't want to be bitten, don't do something that would get you bitten!

"Is your tooth itchy?"

Contrary to the pain I expected, Kyle was very calm. He even lifted me from the butt and began to look at me with worried eyes.

Hey! What are you looking at?

Don't look! Don't look at my butt as well!

Give me back my wheel!

"Behave and play well."

After that he put me back into the house and went back to his bedroom. Clack. The lights in the study went out, and it became silent in an instant.

I sat down on the sawdust and fell back to the ground.

My wheel...

Really, what a lucky day...

novel ⠀✿⠀ next

#TNGDH

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chippedshake · 11 days ago

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She could’ve broken up with him in the car. Told him she didn’t like to be forced to do anything, that the drinking was out of hand, that he didn’t get her, that they were better off as friends.

She didn’t.

She could’ve broken up with him when he dropped her off. Bob and Cherry were still in the car, Bob trying to coax a few words out of Cherry, who was sitting in the back seat with her arms crossed, pretending like she couldn’t hear him.

“Look, Marcia…”

“Don’t,” she said, voice softer than she would’ve liked. “Look…” He looked at her, waiting. She didn’t even know what to say. “Please don’t do anything tonight. It really wasn’t those boys’ faults, and they didn’t try anything.”

Randy looked up at her. His breath reeked of alcohol. “You know how Bob gets when he’s drunk, Mar. What could I do?”

“Randy.” His eyes were wide, and she could almost remember why she fell in love with him when she was fifteen and felt unlovable. “Please.”

Her voice came out pleading, the way she only let it when she was desperate. She didn’t like to plead, didn’t like to seem weak, because it was the sixties, goddammit, not the twenties, and a woman shouldn’t be submissive to a man. But sometimes it was the only way.

“I know.” He sighed and kissed her forehead because, even with one hand on her shoulder and the other gripping a flask, he knew she hated the taste of alcohol. “I’ll try, darling, that’s the best I can do. I’ll get him to sleep over at my place, that good?”

She nodded and he turned around and got back in the car with Bob and Cherry.

And the moment felt sweet, even if she knew it wasn’t, so she put it off for another day, telling herself she’d break it off tomorrow.

She didn’t.

She could’ve broken up with him when he showed up the next morning, eyes red and tear tracks down his cheeks. Could’ve turned him away at the door and said they were done for good.

He stepped inside when she invited him in, and Tom ran off to his room like he always did whenever Marcia brought Randy over.

“I didn’t sleep tonight,” Randy said, sitting down at the dining room table. She sat across from him, and he looked at her strangely for a moment. She always used to sit next to him.

“Why not?”

“Bob’s dead.” Marcia’s head cracked up. He wasn’t laughing. Not cracking a grin, not on the verge of saying “gotcha!”. He was serious. Bob was dead. “I’m sorry. I wanted to make it land softer but then I— I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I—”

He put his head in his hands and laughed bitterly.

“I…” Marcia trailed off. What was she supposed to say? Sorry? It hadn’t even fully sunk in yet. She should be sad. She should be sad, but she wasn’t.

Why couldn’t she feel anything?

“How?”

“One of— uh, one of those greaser kids you were talking to yesterday.”

Marcia’s blood ran cold. Could he…? He had a switch, he’d shown her than much, but could he really…?

“Which one?” She asked, and even to herself, her voice sounded tense.

Randy looked at her in confusion before answering, “The one in the jeans jacket. Had a blade we didn’t know about.”

“Oh.”

The faintest wave of relief was overtaken by anger. She told him not to go after them. She told him to control Bob, and he didn’t. Somehow, it didn’t surprise her.

“I don’t know what to do,” Randy said, and usually Marcia would’ve responded by asking why he thought she would have any clue. But something about his voice stopped her. Bob and Randy had been best friends since… as long as Marcia could remember. And he watched him die. He watched the life drain out of his best friend’s eyes.

Maybe that had broken him.

“Why’d you go after them last night?”

“Huh?”

“I asked you not to go after them,” — I begged you not to go after them, I pleaded and made myself weak so you would listen to me, and yet still you didn’t — “but you did. Why would you— Why would you do that?”

Stupid girl. Such a stupid girl, on the verge of tears because her boyfriend did something she knew he would do. And she knew she would, but she still let herself believe otherwise because she needed something to build her delusions on.

“You asked me not to go after them?”

Marcia could’ve broken up with him right then and there. Could’ve kicked him out, slammed the door in his face with a “we’re done!” and gone up to her room to call Cherry. She could’ve let the tears fall and told him she couldn’t do it anymore, that his drinking was too much. She could’ve told him to go home and called him later that day to tell him they were over.

She ended up curled up on the couch next to him, watching whatever stupid TV program was on at eight in the morning.

Marcia could’ve broken up with Randy when he left that afternoon. He told her his parents would be expecting him back before five, so they stood up and she walked him to the door.

“What are we gonna do?” she asked him at the door as he put his shoes back on. He shook his head.

“I don’t know. Try and get those dirty greasers arrested. Honour his memory.”

He shook his head again and pulled her in for a hug.

This can’t go on.

You’re not a good person.

I can’t be with someone who won’t stop drinking.

We’re not good together.

Yesterday I clicked with one of Bob’s murderers more than I ever did with you.

“Bye,” he said as he pulled away. “Love you.”

She nodded. “I do too.”

The door closed behind him and the phone rang. For a second, Marcia wished for it to be Two-Bit on the other end.

“Hi, is this Tom’s house? I need to talk to him for a minute.”

“Yeah, it is. This is his sister. Just give me a second to go get him.”

She could’ve broken up with him any of the times she saw him during the next week. Boasting about who he’d jumped. Having a drink to forget about it.

She could’ve broken up with him when he showed up at her house the day those two boys were in the fire, lost and scared.

“It’s useless, Marcia, it’s completely useless. They— they killed Bob and what happened? Nothing! Now we just gotta find out how to go on without him. And we— we hurt them and jumped them so many times and what was even the point? It won’t get us anywhere. He’s— he’s dead. He won’t get to do anything — won’t graduate and won’t marry Cherry — he had a ring and everything—” A sob wracked his body and Randy slid down against the wall, curling up on himself.

Marcia just watched him. She didn’t know what to do.

“He didn’t deserve to die. No one does. What are— What are we doing? What do we wanna get? We ain’t getting anywhere. Nowhere. It’s pointless, it’s so pointless and no one wants to stop, they just wanna keep on pushing and pushing the snowball and I can’t tell them to stop!”

That was the day Randy Adderson cried in Marcia’s kitchen and she could do nothing but put her hand on his knee and tell him it’d get better.

Maybe she wasn’t supposed to break up with him right then, but she could’ve.

She didn’t.

She could’ve broken up with him — or, rather, she should’ve broken up with him — that night, when he woke her up with pebbles on her window. He always liked to do that, said it made him feel like he was in a movie.

“I’m leaving,” he whispered once she had gone down to let him in. “And I want you to come with me.”

“What?” she asked, still half asleep. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. But I’m leaving. Skipping town.” A grin stretched across his face. He was giddy, high on recklessness.

“Randy, you’re seventeen.”

“Eighteen in a couple weeks.”

Marcia sighed and rubbed at her eyes. “Why?”

The grin fell off his face. “I couldn’t keep going. Fighting, it— it’s useless. It don’t do any good. They’re at the rumble right now. Or going back, I don’t know how long it lasted. But come on. We can leave, leave this whole place behind, no one’d ever know where we’d gone.”

“What about Cherry? We just leave her alone?”

“She won’t be alone, she’ll have—”

“I ain’t uprootin’ my life for you, Randy. Much less as a split-second decision at midnight.”

He didn’t answer for a couple seconds. His eyes roamed over her, searching for any hint of uncertainty.

When he did speak again, it was calm. Sober. Serious. “Okay.”

He kissed her forehead, nose, and lips, lingering for a moment after, resting his forehead against hers. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And despite everything, maybe she meant it.

He left a minute later.

Marcia’s mother found her leaning against the kitchen counter, listening to the last echoes of his engine.

“What are you doing up so late?”

She looked up from where she’d been staring at the floor blankly and smiled emptily. “Just getting a glass of water, Ma, don’t worry.”

“Oh, alright then.” Her mother held her close and kissed the top of her head. “Sleep well.”

She smiled back tightly and climbed back up the stairs.

Marcia could’ve broken up with Randy any number of times, but she never did. Never mustered up the courage to say the two — or three or ten or two hundred — words she needed. And she loved him, she really did, despite it all, but sometimes that isn’t enough.

#marcia the outsiders #randy adderson #the outsiders #the outsiders book #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders movie #chippedshake #fanfics

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gamekids-firewolf · 3 months ago

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also since I forgot -- it's been a few months since book 3 got published, so. here's the whole first chapter!

Play: Origin_02_Inferno.mry

Error: File corruption. Rerouting.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Vektor was no stranger to loss. His parents defended their Kingdom from the Mainframe with their lives. His whole Kingdom was taken from him by that Thief. Certain memories were kept from him behind restricted access.

He used to believe those were simply his own doing. Painful truths he wished not to face; he witnessed the moment his parents were destroyed, after all.

Now, however.

There was no running from it anymore.

The Rabbit Hole was much kinder to him than it was his parents. They were deleted when struck down, yet he was spared. He belonged to two realms now, not just simply the Rabbit Hole alone. He forged bonds outside his home and became more familiar here than he ever was inside his Kingdom. He had more reason to protect this realm than he had for his home.

Change. This influence Inferno brought was simple, yet it infected all of them down to their core arguments.

Fitting for the overwhelming power he held inside him.

If Vektor was certain of one thing, it was that these restricted memories held some sort of key. Some information that they desperately needed in the wake of what happened to Inferno.

Their realms were separate. They had to be, lest they warp one another to obscurity. Yet Inferno landed himself in the Seventh Circle through his own means. Inferno defied all of Vektor's knowledge and tore through both realms as if the barriers between were mere suggestions.

Inferno was bound by shadow. It dripped from his fingers when he wasn't paying enough attention and marred his face when he grew hostile against himself. He was absolutely coated in it when they retrieved him from the Rabbit Hole and Vektor could scarcely believe what the code there told him.

There was no other way to look at it. Inferno was one of them.

Inferno was the same as Vektor.

"That should make sense, though." Jonathan said in reply to Vektor's fearful ramblings. Jonathan was the only one he could trust with such vulnerable information. Jonathan wouldn't bite his head off like Wolf or completely brush him off for thinking so hard on this, as everyone was prone to doing when it concerned Inferno. "You said he's got something like your. You called it Create, yeah? You said he's got something more powerful in him than everyone else combined, so it makes sense that he's got a hold in this system, same as you."

It did make sense, but there was still a piece that didn't quite fit. Vektor frowned at the incomplete picture it left before him. "Everything makes sense when I look at it as though Inferno helped build the Rabbit Hole. But that can't be the case." He said, pacing restlessly along the linoleum floors.

Jonathan's favourite place was this lab where his desires for experimentation were free to go wild. A free study he was allowed due to his classes and his studiousness. He and Vektor weren't usually this bold, hanging out together before the cover of night, but Vektor needed the company and Jonathan didn't mind giving it. Jonathan never minded giving it, much as he put on airs otherwise.

"Inferno said he isn't one of the Creators, that his hands don't reach that far into the system's origins. If he's not the one behind everything, then why is he so inextricably tied to it as he is?"

"It is quite the head scratcher, huh?" Jonathan said with a hum.

He pressed a hand to his chin as he thought. His dark eyes (black, like Vektoria's Void, but fading to grey around their edges) darted to his notebook, where he kept all his notes on his chemical concoctions and the like. Each formula was elegant, if a bit unrefined. Just like the man himself. Vektor slowed in his pacing just to watch him a moment, noting the way his posture and even his forefront code read as Jonathan and Jonathan alone.

When Hyde had kissed Vektor, he never expected he would grow so fond of the man. He never expected to find himself so undeniably full of adoration for another that it broke past every threshold for these values tying him to all of his friends. His friends were his friends, but Jonathan — Jonathan was his everything. Jonathan could ask for his heart and Vektor would dutifully remove it from his own chest to hand right over.

That sort of bond should have been cause for alarm. Should have made Vektor recoil from it entirely.

And yet, against logic itself, Vektor could only think of basking in it as long as he was allowed.

"Would you prefer I call you my boyfriend or my datemate?" He asked.

Jonathan startled, face going a bit darker with his embarrassment. "Uh. That came out of nowhere."

Vektor strode over, closing that distance between them to look directly into his eyes. Darkness, the antithesis to Vektor's Gold. He was creation, was light, yet this darkness drew him in. It drew him in so powerfully. "It's a rather important question to ask." He said. "Our relationship is very important to me, as is your comfort."

Jonathan ducked away, closing off that connection momentarily. "I-I don't know. Ask me later." He said in a huff. "We were talking about Dante and the game, don't distract me."

Distraction.

It was deeply interwoven through Inferno's code.

Vektor reached out to cup Jonathan's face and though the man made a show of resistance, Hyde resurfaced to lean into it. Hyde always desired touch, overriding Jonathan's own fluster when they wished to give more tactile shows of this affection glowing in their chests. "He was programmed to deflect." Vektor mumbled. "Programmed to keep attention away, to keep us guessing on less important matters."

Jonathan eyed him in confusion. "You mean. You talking about his code or whatever?"

Vektor was so close to something. He scanned through that mess of Inferno's code, knew all it held, and yet it was still such a mystery. Why program him in such a manner? Why grant him that boundless Create, that overpowering Change, yet interpret both as a curse? Vektor pulled away and said, "Perhaps. It might be cruel, but we should consider everything Inferno has ever told us to be a lie."

Jonathan shoved Hyde back down as he watched him carefully. Still confused, but growing annoyed. "That means you were filled with lies, too." He said.

A cruel truth. One Vektor wished to reject immediately, but pushed past that instinct and really assessed it. Inferno agreed with him, after all, on the myth of his Kingdom's creation. Inferno agreed with him when he gave explanation after explanation and none of it was satisfactory enough to settle any matter. "Both of us were given the same lies." He mused darkly, looking down at his open palm.

The gold he produced was not dissimilar to Inferno's flames, but vastly inferior. There was something missing, something more than just the way their powers never added up, the way they butted heads and still couldn't deny fondness for one another.

Inferno advocated for his personhood. Vektor did his best to similarly encourage him to do the same. Allowing all his code to tie him down as he did, it made Inferno more volatile. More likely to pop.

To pop?

Such an odd phrase. As if Inferno's only purpose was to burn down his surroundings, to prove some point of the capabilities of the Rabbit Hole.

But that was ludicrous. Why would the Creators give a child like Inferno such an awful end?

Why would they write such cruelty for their—

Vektor winced and recoiled from the thought. Access denied. There it was again. It was becoming much more infuriating now than it was previously. Jonathan hopped up from his seat and rounded the desk in concern, but Vektor held up his hand to stop him.

"You forget we're somewhere completely public and in broad daylight." He reminded his (boy?) (date?) friend.

Jonathan shied away a few steps, chastised. "Right. Thanks." He mumbled in his embarrassment.

Vektor closed his eyes and allowed that pain to ebb away. He couldn't get too close to such truths. He couldn't even grasp how that thought was supposed to end. He had to distance himself from this line of thinking, had to restart from the first point in their gathered data and follow it to a more plausible explanation.

His head snapped up as a foreign scent came to him. From the way Jonathan's expression twisted from concern to disgust, he noticed it, too. "Do you. Smell smoke?" He asked.

Smoke.

Where there was smoke, there was fire.

Where there was fire, there could only be—

Vektor gasped. "Inferno."

Jonathan's expressions switched straight into a wide-eyed horror. Wordlessly, the two of them sprinted out of the room (Jonathan being much faster, of course) and into the halls. There was, indeed, a billowing fire fighting its way out of a classroom just a few doors down. It was viscous and could only read Inferno, rooting Vektor to the spot as its waves of heat lashed over him. Jonathan winced and shied away, but Vektor was frozen by the sight, by that half-formed thought of earlier.

Inferno was meant to pop.

They were all such imbeciles. Such fools.

There was no other purpose to the Rabbit Hole.

"What are you two doing?" Puppet screeched at them.

Vektor flinched, as did Jonathan, breaking the both of them from that stupor. The flames clawed their way out of the room, desperate and hungry, but couldn't find hold in the floor or the walls despite their attempts to burn everything. They were kept at the centre, kept from blasting outward, no doubt by Inferno himself in his unwillingness to show his danger for what it truly was.

Puppet was just as wide-eyed, just as breathless in her panic as they were. Her less comforting black eyes were much more similar to Vektoria's (pretending to be lifelike, an endless pit filled with their fury and hatred), but she still grabbed both of their arms and dragged them away from the stomach-turning sight. "There's a goddamn fire, we need to evacuate. Call the fire department, the police, a teacher for all I care. Get someone here so they can stop that idiot from burning this place to the ground."

Her words reached Jonathan and he fumbled his phone a moment, saying distractedly, "Right, right, we need to call someone."

Vektor was too overwhelmed by this fact presented before him. Too overwhelmed by knowledge he never desired.

Inferno was at this centre.

Inferno was trapped in his own fires.

Inferno was the only reason the Rabbit Hole existed as it did.

He pulled against Puppet's hold as those values screamed at him to take action. "We have to get him out." He said through his stressed teeth, his better judgements. "We can't just leave him. We have to get him out of there."

"Are you crazy? You'll die if you run straight into that." Puppet spat at him.

Her reason did nothing to dissuade this terrible instinct. She dragged him struggling and kicking away from his friend, those fires, and the hallway stretched before him in some trick of perception. Though they made it outside soon enough, this school was tiny in comparison to his kingdom, the length of paces separating him from his friend seemed nightmarishly exaggerated. Was it a bug in his perception? Knowledge of his own lacking Speed? Either way, she continued dragging him further and further away along the less flammable stones lining the path of this realm. He was forced to watch the building grow farther, the smoke climb higher into the dark blue of the afternoon sky.

Almost evening, but not quite. Almost supper, but without the proper rosy golds which came with sunset.

Jonathan made some call and none of it was comforting. Inferno had popped, had finally shown his hand, yet they ran away from it. Why did they always have to run from Inferno's truths?

Inferno was distraction. He was designed to keep others away from the reality they all found themselves in.

This end was always meant for him.

It was written even before Vektor knew just how much Inferno would end up meaning to him.

He let out a guttural scream, the only outlet for all this anguish available to him. Even as others gathered and steps were taken to extinguish that blaze, Vektor couldn't shake away this encompassing truth.

It was never about him and his Kingdom. It was never about getting back before the worst could occur.

It was always about Inferno.

Well played, Creators.

#game kids need their own tag #Corruption and Heart #Corruption and Heart: Game Kids Book 3 #Vektor Ketziah #Jonathan Wallace #Dante Vicario

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barbwillbrb · 7 months ago

Note

prompt for clarice: that moment she looks out a window and feels deeply hopeful/excited for the future

for rackal: the moment he decides its time to put down his sword and settle down

Been really wanted to get into Clairice's head. I can't say she is hopeful here, but is motivated towards something more than she's ever been. Angst if you squint?

Will work on Rackal but this honestly was a little longer than I expected.

There was a sickness that clung in the air about her— deep and choking, a toxic yet ever familiar hug— but if she was honest, it settled within her bones long before they had crossed the threshold into the Shadow-Cursed Lands, where the light snuffed itself out and forevermore marred the life within it. Echoes of the past few hours— the dead tieflings littered across the pass nary two miles away, left to rot on account of the curse; Mol’s eyes glittering with both steel nerve and sheer desperation, sitting across the lanceboard from Raphael, reassuring Clairice that she was smarter than that (“What do you take me for– a chump?”), only to be ripped from the Inn, her screams most certainly forming the barest of affirmations for the devil to hear and sealing her fate in turn; Jaheria, even after the defense of the Inn, eying their group with justified but still damned painful suspicion, like they could turn on a moment’s notice and be none the wiser– hells, perhaps even grateful to be shackled to the Absolute, not unlike the other puppets they met so far.

This fucking sucked.

Clairice gave a deep, heavy sigh, pulling her knees to her chest. The evening was eerily cool for the season, sending goosebumps prickling over her arms, but she reasoned that was likely due to the blasted curse as well. She took a draw off her bottle— some swill she yanked from the Zhent encampment, back what felt like years ago by now— and stared out over the lake. The liquid burned down her throat, sinking into her stomach, doing not a damned thing to quell the twisted knot inside her. Through the fog, she could barely make out the silhouette of a massive structure, tall and ominous, glowing faintly against the distant coast. Moonrise Towers.

The supposed answer to all of their problems, where they can end all of this shit. Yeah right, she scoffed bitterly, closing her eyes.

Her mind drifted, bringing her back to the eve of the party, where they made merry in camp alongside the refugees, the air alive with hope. She’d caught her brother off by himself, nursing the same mug she’d given him hours earlier. “You really need not check on me,” he remarked when she moved beside him.

“It literally took me three hours and Karlach to convince Wyll to join the fray; I was hoping for once you weren’t going to be your sullen self.” At that, Rackal smirked, but the mirth didn’t reach his eyes. She followed his gaze, where it had settled on their companions, some of whom had joined in a drinking game led by Bex.

“Look, I’m trying, I just—”

“Can’t take a moment to relax? We saved the day, man; let’s take the small victories.”

There was more he wanted to say– she could practically feel his mind buzzing– but this time it was his name that was called from across camp, and he left his thoughts unsaid but nevertheless understood in his wake: this is nowhere near the end.

Everything now felt impossibly big. The goblin camp was different— it was just some drow and goblins, and aren’t they always getting up to something totally fucked? I mean it’s not like they started eating dwarf after the Absolute came to power; they’ve always been disgusting, twisted little creatures. And as for drow— there was a damn reason her father fled his people, and it wasn’t for adventure. It was easy just to compartmentalize everything as, well— weird drow/goblin shit, not “a new god has arisen and looks like it can actually doom us all!” type shit.

“How are we supposed to do this,” she muttered to herself, thumbing the lip of the bottle.

She didn’t want to be a hero. Never wanted to. Heroes sacrifice every lick and scrap of themselves and for what— some shiny epitaph, up in the high city halls for the nobles to “hmm” and “haw” at, where their actual loved ones can’t even pay their respects without getting looked down upon or pitied? Save the world at cost of everything dear to you, at cost to only you. Sounds like a real shit deal.

And yet, here she was– facing down a future she’s done everything to run away from. The actual irony of it would make her laugh if it didn’t want to make her puke.

She stared back over the water. So still, so quiet against her mind.

“FINE– go and get out. One of these Gods-damned days you are going to be backed into a corner and you are going to need to actually look deep, down inside of yourself, ask yourself what it actually fucking is you stand for, and make a fucking choice. And for your sake, I hope you like the person who chooses, because I sure as the Hells don’t like the person you’ve become.”

She could still hear Mol’s screaming in her ears. Her grip tightened around the bottleneck.

Well, it’s not like I have much other choice. Tossing back the last dregs of her swill, Clairice stood, rolled her shoulder, then cocked an arm back and flew the bottle out towards the water. A beat, then a distant splash in the dock. Time to play hero, I suppose, she mused, heading into the Inn to find the others.

#tav: clairice #bg3 tavs #drabble #character development #my writing #my ocs

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usafphantom2 · 1 year ago

Text

At Beale Air Force Base , in California, you would think that the SR-71 Blackbird program would be the biggest blackest deepest secret. You would be wrong.

The biggest secret was Senior Bowl.

M-21 and D-21.

According to Air Force Test Center History Office documents, all manned flights over the Soviet Union were discontinued by President Dwight Eisenhower after Francis Gary Powers’ U-2 spy plane was shot down May 1, 1960. However even if the US government was planning on using satellites for reconnaissance, the technology was still a few years away and the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) determined unmanned drones could fill the gap until satellites became viable.

For this reason in the 1960s the famed Lockheed “Skunk Works” developed the D-21 a highly-advanced, remotely piloted aircraft (RPA) designed to carry out high-speed, high-altitude strategic reconnaissance missions over hostile territory.

The D-21 required a mothership to launch given its ramjet engine, which needed to be air-launched at a certain speed to activate. Initially, Lockheed testers used an M-21 (essentially a modified SR-71 Blackbird) to air launch the D-21 drone. The D-21 would be launched from the back of the M-21. Ideally, after conducting its reconnaissance mission it would eject a hatch with photo equipment to be recovered either mid-air or after the hatch landed.

However, on the fourth flight test, the D-21 experienced an “asymmetric unstart” as it passed through the bow wake of the M-21 causing the mothership to pitch up and collide with the D-21 at Mach 3.25. Crewmembers Bill Park and Ray Torick ejected from the M-21, but Torick’s flight suit became ripped and filled with water when he plunged into the ocean where he drowned.

B-52 and D-21.

After the accident and after the death of Ray Torick, a test flight engineer, the M-21 launch program was cancelled but testers still believed the D-21 would make a valuable reconnaissance vehicle and decided to launch the drone from B-52Hs under a top secret test program named Tagboard. The new code name for the D-21 project became Senior Bowl.

It was Kelly Johnson, President of Skunk Works, who suggested to use the B-52. As a result of Johnson’s advice two B-52’s were modified: 61#0021 and 60#0036. Both B-52’s are still in the US Air Force (USAF) inventory. The ultra secret 4200 test squadron was formed at Beale.

Only a few of the men that flew the SR-71 had been read into the program: out of necessity one of the few included my father Richard “Butch” Sheffield, SR-71 RSO who had already been read into Oxcart in 1965. In his unpublished book he writes that on the flightline he was with Bob Spencer, SR-71 pilot. They were taxing out when they saw the B-52 with a drone underneath it. Spencer asked ‘What is that under that B-52?’ My Dad responded ‘I have no idea.’ He couldn’t tell Bob Spencer the truth.

These two B-52‘s were kept away at the end of the runway apart from any other operations.

D-21 drone.

The D-21s were used on four flights over communist China but none of these missions fully succeeded.

Two flights were successful, however the imagery could not be recovered from the D-21’s hatch. The other two operational flights ended with one being lost in a heavily defended area and the other D-21 simply disappeared after launch.

The main mission of the D-21 was to fly over China and take pictures of its nuclear weapons test facility in the remote west central of the country near Lop Nor.

The pictures were supposed to be dropped in the ocean and recovered by the Navy. During the Cold War this information was necessary for the defense of the US.

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. B-52H Stratofortress 2nd BW, 20th BS, LA/60-0008 “Lucky Lady IV”.

The fourth and final mission of the D-21 drone took place on Mar. 20, 1971 and was undertaken by D-21 #527. Experts at the 4200th Support Squadron and at Skunk Works concluded that #527 must have malfunctioned. It was thought to have gone down near Lop Nor. This drone is on display in China at their national aviation museum. So we know that it got close.

Senior Bowl lasted from January 1968 until Jul. 15, 1971. Interestingly, after the fall of the Soviet Union, Ben Rich (then retired president of Lockheed’s Skunk Works) finally had an opportunity to tour Russia himself. While in Moscow, the KGB presented Rich with a gift of what they thought were the remains of a stealth fighter that had crashed in their territory. As it turned out, the wreckage was actually pieces and parts of the lost D-21 Drone!

Be sure to check out Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer) Facebook Page Habubrats for awesome Blackbird’s photos and stories.

Photo credit: U.S. Air Force

This model is available from AirModels – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS.

Linda Sheffield Miller

Grew up at Beale Air Force Base, California. I am a Habubrat. Graduated from North Dakota State University. Former Public School Substitute Teacher, (all subjects all grades). Member of the DAR (Daughters of the Revolutionary War). I am interested in History, especially the history of SR-71. Married, Mother of three wonderful daughters and four extremely handsome grandsons. I live near Washington, DC.

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